#not that most doctors are any good at treating it either

[mogai-headcanons]

May i ask, why do you support endo-systems? (Coming from someone with did themself)

i've talked about this before (can't remember which blog it was on) but can't find it so i'll just run down my reasons again:

above all else, i do not have the right to tell anyone what is actually going on in their own brain. the only time that might be acceptable would be if i was a doctor treating them for a psychological issue, and even then, it's not often a good idea to outright tell someone that their brain is Wrong. this applies both to fakeclaiming endogenic systems and to telling them that they're actually traumagenic but have repressed their trauma; neither is good form.

secondly above all else, we NEED to have solidarity among plural folks. this is coming from a psychology major and a system — there is a large number of psychology practitioners and researchers who straight up do not believe plurality exists in any form. there is also a large number of them who believe systems are far rarer than current diagnoses show, and therefore most diagnosed and suspected systems are not real. i have had to write an essay on why did is fake for a grade before. there are extremely prominent psychologists (ex: allen frances, the literal chair of the team who developed the dsm-iv) who believe did is a fad (allen frances has stated that he wanted to outright remove it from the dsm-iv). if we are fakeclaiming each other in our community, this only makes us more susceptible to the people who want plurality to be seen as entirely fabricated.

on that point, we also need to have solidarity against non-psychologist singlets who fakeclaim systems. things like the r/fakedisordercringe subreddit can be legitimately damaging to the people who are posted, scrutinized, and ridiculed, and we should be protecting each other from that, not shoving endogenic systems into the line of fire.

there is scientific evidence of non-traumagenic and non-disordered plurality (there are some interesting studies linked on this page), especially in spiritual communities.

though not all endogenic systems are disordered, they Can be; having experienced trauma is not a diagnostic criteria for did or osdd-1 in the dsm-5 tr or the icd-11. though it's obviously highly common for did/osdd systems to have experienced trauma, a non-insignificant portion of diagnosed disordered systems (something like 4% iirc) are not traumatized.

to go with the above point, many endogenic systems don't claim to have a dissociative disorder or that their system is disordered. if you're worried about people 'appropriating' or 'faking' your disorder, they largely are not, since plurality can and does exist outside of disorders.

as a traumagenic system, i feel unwelcome and threatened by anti-endogenic folks. i've been fakeclaimed by anti-endos before, either because they mistook me for an endogenic system since i support them or because they decided the behaviors i perform on the internet are evidence i'm faking. i'm not the only traumagenic system this has happened to.

i think that's the main points, i may have more idk

#long post #discourse #syscourse ment #*comes out of hiatus for this* lmao

[naamahdarling]

.

#this ibs flare is atrocious #i am not QUITE at the point of being set off by drinking water but i am in the neighborhood #and it sucks that doctors can do p much fuckall to stop them #and my type doesn't respond well to medication #not that most doctors are any good at treating it either #it's just fad diets and eat more fiber which yeah no if you don't even know how bad insoluble fiber is for us i think you need to pipe down #and lay off the fodmap thing it is discredited and even the guy who devised it said it doesn't work #and it's effective for some folks for reasons that overlap with but are not exclusively fodmap related #i've tried everything i have access to including bovine IgG and it has only made it bearable not better #i lost like 30 pounds when it started because I was literally eating only broth and bread and peeled potatoes #anyway no advice please #this just feels awful

[janitorhutcherson]

olderbf!mike who is 5 years older than you shows you how to do taxes. he breaks down everything, why they’re important, the due dates. he’s not exactly sure on how to himself but he’s figured out the best services to use, how to do any write offs and what paperwork you may need.

olderbf!mike who lets you move in with him. when the time comes, the two of you as well as abby set out on a trek to find a somewhat larger and nicer home. once you do, he teaches you about rent, how to manage money (the best that he can), and things about cars, financing, etc.

olderbf!mike (ft. stoner!mike) who smokes you out at night, grabbing the back of your head and leaning it back as he blows smoke into your mouth. sometimes he’ll hit a joint off of your chest or he will hold it in between his fingers for you to hit.

olderbf!mike who laughs at how naive you are, teasing you when you don’t know things that can only come from life experience. in response to this, you remind him that he’s your elder and he quickly shuts up, rolling his eyes and grumbling, throwing a miniature hissy fit.

olderbf!mike who calls you good girl, pretty girl, babydoll, and babygirl because that’s how he sees fit. if you prefer, he will just call you babydoll, whatever makes you most comfortable. he loves having his hands all over you, even in public to show that you’re his.

olderbf!mike that covers you in purple marks all across your skin, ensuring at first glance it’s obvious you are very much taken. it doesn’t take much for people to realize who, as all they have to do is follow your arm down to your hands that are tightly gripped into much larger calloused ones. a short but gruff man is always attached at the hip with you, either leading you so that your mind can go blank or following your every command.

olderbf!mike who fixes all of your mommy/daddy issues, taking care of you the best that he can. he helps to set up your doctors appointments, gets you little treats even when they’re somewhat childish, takes you out to dinner, watches movies with you and eats junk food. you take care of him and he only sees it fair to take care of you. he’s head over heels for you, and he’ll do everything to show you that.

#josh hutcherson x reader #mike schmidt fluff #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt imagine #josh hutcherson fluff #josh hutcherson imagine #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson fanfic #mike schmidt smut

[i-cant-sing]

Just thinking about Yandere Todoroki clan and reader's random moments.

Reader coming home after a particularly bad day, but poor girl cant even cry or complain without everyone immediately overreacting and pulling you out of school/college or even keeping you from going out at all. So now, reader has to either cry in self pity before she enters her home, wipe her tears and fix herself just enough to show that she hadnt just bawled her eyes out moments ago. That, or do the more risky thing and go home, go to your room and cry under the covers, but then theres always the chance of Rei or the others walking in on you any moment.

Also thinking about baby/toddler reader being sick, just a common cold or flu, nothing major. But with reader whining and being so young, the family's infantalisation goes through the roof and theyd treat you as if you were immunocompromised. I wont lie, but I think Rei is almost kinda... glad when you get sick? She enjoys you being dependant on her for the most things, even when you grow up and are able to handle a cold, she still deludes herself into thinking that you need mommy to come and help you.

I think the one person who is most affected by reader getting sick, no matter what age, is Enji. The man just cant help but view you as a fragile, starving Victorian child the moment you fall ill. In his eyes, even a harsh blow of air is too much for a fragile thing like you, let alone something as bad as the flu. He just- he's holding toddler reader in his arms, who snuggles into his warm body, your tiny nose pink and he cant get the image of you crying and vomiting and being oh so feverish- thats just way too much for your small body. Oh how he almost cried when he took you to the doctor for a shot and you clung to him, trying to bury yourself into him as you begged him to make you feel better, cried to him that you didnt want to get the "big scary needle!" He just had to hold you there in his firm grip as you writhed, had to look away when you looked at him and he saw the feeling of betrayal in your eyes, had to keep himself from not strangling the fucking doctor for not being careful, had to walk out of the clinic and hand you to Rei because he couldnt hear you cry anymore, had to have Rei console both you and Enji (assuring him that "no, Enji. Y/n doesnt resent you for making her get a shot.") and he couldnt even sleep a wink that night because he was standing by your bed, holding your tiny hand with his pinky as a tear finally slipped out of his eye.

ALSO thinking about adult reader going out of the house to meet up with friends, except shes meeting up with them at a club instead of at their house like she told Enji and Rei, and now shes standing outside, abandoned by said friends, and shes now running because a group of pervy men are chasing her and she doesnt know who to call, so she just speed dials Shotou, except someone just changed all your speed dials to one number, and you think youre doomed when Shotou doesnt say a word to you and just hangs up when within minutes, someone comes in front of you-

"Dabi?" He tells you to cover your ears and look away, and you know well by know what that means, so you obey, feeling a bit regretful as those men begin to scream in agony. You dont know how long its been until Dabi pulls your hands away and examines your wounds. He lets you crash into his chest as you sob, and this time, Dabi simply decides to take you home quietly without a lecture.

Hmmm, also thinking about Natsuo who is usually cool as a cucumber, the most normal being in the family, except for his very rare episodes of unbridled rage where he suddenly becomes the Hulk. Good thing for you is that this anger is never directed towards you, rather towards people who actively threaten your life (except Rei cause she gets to play "Im your mom who became mentally unstable because of your abusive dad") The only time NAtsuo is stern with you is when it comes to your health. He's just looking at you with those strict eyes when you refuse to take your multivitamins, or dont want to get a flu shot, or try to make up an excuse so that he cant check your vitals. And when he just grabs your wrist and pulls you to sit down so that he can do his checkup, its in those moments that you realise just how strong your brother is... and how easy it may be for him to overpower you and sedate you if he ever followed through Rei's threats.

#yandere bnha #bnha headcanons #yandere mha #bnha imagines #yandere dabi #yandere todoroki clan #yandere endeavor #yandere natsuo todoroki #yandere enji todoroki #yandere rei todoroki

[lovelybrooke]

Demon Slayers with a Foreign Reader

This was requested by @ruiroku, sorry it took so long, hope you enjoy.

Check out my other works here: Masterlist.

I have two ideas for a foreign reader. From what I was able to find, Demon Slayers take place during the Taisho period (1912-1926). This was around the time Japan opened back up to Western influence after previously cutting themselves off from the rest of the world. Because of this, I could image the reader coming to Japan for many different reasons.

The best idea I had was reader being a doctor/nurse who is studying Japanese medical practices or teaching western medical practices (keep in mind that when I say "western" I don't necessary mean American/European. I just mean literally anything to the West, which is a lot of places, as to keep the readers original home vague).

Either way, throughout your time in Japan, you got to learn a lot about Japanese culture and practices, and overall enjoyed your stay there. Over time, however, you began to notice strange happenings and disappearances, especially the weaker patients you would take care of.

You made the assumption that your patients were simply succumbing to their illnesses, but whenever you checked up on their families, they claimed that they had just disappeared. This lead you on a wild goose chaise to find your missing patients, since you knew how venerable they were.

All this led you to be cornered by a hungry demon, who was enraged at your attempts of finding your patients. He was right about to kill you before you were saved by a very...eccentric looking man, to say the least. In one fell swoop, he chopped the demons head off, saving you from a very painful death.

The man, who you figured out was named Rengoku, was very loud, and talked very fast. So, it was hard for you to translate what he was saying. He assumed you were in shock, so lowered himself down to your level, and explained slowly he would be taking you with him to get your wounds treated. It didn't take long before you passed out.

This was how you became acquainted with the Demon Slayers. After your wounds were treated, you came to the realization that your former patients were killed, and it hurt very much. You felt like you weren't doing your job as a doctor and failed their loved ones. It took a toll on your mental health, Shinobu recommending that you stay until you feel better both mentally and physically.

The Demon Slayers Headquarters is surprisingly cozy, even with the many intense figures there. Shinobu is the one who you spend most of your time with, since she takes it upon herself to treat your wounds personally. She takes very good care of you, and you're intensely grateful, but sometimes you can feel a little overwhelmed with how strangely focused she is on you and your wellbeing. Though, she does offer to teach you a thing or two about medicines that can treat demon related injuries.

Once you are able to move on your own, you spend a lot of your time with the other Hashira's. Rengoku is very interested in learning about your home country and could listen to you talk about your home all day. He's very childlike in his curiosity for you, often ranting happily about his own interests and dreams as a Hashira. While he is very lighthearted, he does often remind you that you own him for saving you.

Others like Giyu pretend not to care about you and want you to leave as soon as possible. However, when it comes to your safety, they take it very seriously. Being a foreigner, Giyu views you as target for many dangerous people. He often reminds you that you are weak and easy to manipulate, though you don't really hear any malice behind his works, almost like his he genuinely worried about you.

Uzui is pretty intimidating when you first meet him, but you eventually learn not to fear him. You get to know him more and more when you start to patch him up after missions. You don't realize as you begin to open up to him about how you miss your home and family. Uzui doesn't seem to mind though, as he listens to you carefully and even offers advice on how to acclimate better to your new home. He even suggests that you meet his wives some time.

Once the Tanjiro and the gang arrive, the quicky warm up to you. Tanjiro thinks you are the sweetest person ever, and always feels bad when you're forced to take care of him after missions. You honestly remind him of the warmth of a parent that he very much misses. He also loves that Nezuko loves you. Zenitsu also likes you, especially since you are much easier on him, and Inosuke doesn't have that much of an opinion on you, but he doesn't hate you. In fact, he's probably the most interested in your home country since he's lived a pretty secluded life until becoming a demon slayer.

The kids being, well, kids, are very interested in your native culture. Tanjiro is sympathetic and understands that you might miss your home often, so he offers for you to teach him things regarding your culture. He might even learn how to cook native dishes that can remind you of your home. Unlike the others, who want you to forget about your native country, Tanjiro feels bad whenever you talk about missing your family or friends, even though it fills him with jealously.

They are also obsessed with the way you sound speaking your native language since they think it sounds so cool. Some of them like Rengoku might even want to learn, while others are simply content with hearing you talk. They think you're so smart, being able to speak to languages. Even if you're not fluent in Japanese, they're all willing to help you with anything you're struggling with. Though, there are times where they'll bend the truth on what they are saying whenever you're confused, most notably when they're talking about something not so savory.

In conclusion, even once you get better, you're staying with them. The Hashira's are very good at making you feel like you owe them something, and so they abuse that to get you to stay. You don't even notice that you're slowly and slowly forgetting about leaving, as you start to work as a nurse with Shinobu. Even once you get better and can technically leave on your own, you're constantly reminded of how dangerous the world is without your demon slayer friends.

---

A/n: I might write a part 2 with the demons, so tell me if you would want that.

#yandere x reader #soft yandere #platonic yandere #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer #yandere demon slayer x reader #yandere demon slayer #kny x reader

[moonstruckme]

Hey luv!! Saw your requests open and was curious if could do modern au w poly!marauders and nonbinary!reader who wants and gets top surgery. If not thats okay, just ignore!! 💋

Hi! As always with these, I have limited knowledge so please lmk if there's any inaccuracies or insensitivities! I'd be happy to fix them :) And thank you for requesting sweetheart <33

cw: reader is recovering from major surgery, vaguely suggestive (but barely)

poly!marauders x nb!reader ♡ 864 words

James hops over the back of the couch as soon as you and Remus get in the door, instantly assailing you with tenderness. 

“How’d the appointment go?” he asks, providing a hand you don’t really need to go sit down on the couch. 

“Good,” you say honestly. You can hear Sirius coming down the stairs a second before he appears, giving you a quick up-down to assess your state before grinning at you. 

“Feeling good?” 

You laugh. “Yeah,” you reiterate, “it went well.” 

Remus chuckles, passing a sympathetic hand over your head as he rounds the couch to sag into the armchair. Your boyfriends are infinitely sweet in their attentions, but they’ve been treating your first post-op appointment like it’s Christmas. 

“So, is it off?” Sirius asks eagerly. 

You smile, nodding. “The vest is off, but I’ve still got the bandages until probably next week.” 

James’ knee immediately sets to bouncing as he takes a seat beside you. “Can we see?” 

“I’ve already seen,” Remus says smugly. 

James’ excitement fizzes in the air around you, and Sirius stalks toward you with purpose. A familiar tingle of apprehension skips over your skin as he leaps upon you, planting a knee on either side of your hips to keep from actually putting any of his weight on your lap. The couch springs groan in protest. Remus echoes them. 

“If you break our furniture, you’re buying the new stuff,” he warns. 

Sirius ignores him, fingering the button at the collar of your shirt. “May I?”

“Only if you quit flirting with me,” you say. 

“Christ,” James’ head lolls back on the couch cushion, “with those terms, we’ll never get to see.” 

But Sirius is already undoing your top, slender figures making quick work of the buttons before he’s opening it up. You let the sleeves fall down your shoulders, unable to tamp down your own smile at the sight of your torso. 

“Fuck, baby,” Sirius breathes, running his thumb along the skin just underneath the bandages. Even though he’d seen your chest back at the doctor’s office, Remus leans forward in his chair to peek around James. “You look so good.” 

“I said no flirting,” you try to joke, but his eyes are earnest when they meet yours. 

“I mean it,” he says. 

Your face heats, a pleasant warmth blooming behind the bandages. 

“You really do,” James agrees. He’s looking from your chest to your face like he’s matching them up in his head. “You’re so perfect like this, angel.” 

You smile at him. “You’ve always said that, Jamie.” 

“I have,” he admits. “I mean, you’ve always been perfect, but you’re so you now, it’s like…” His smile unfurls, beatific, and your face scrunches up in apprehension a second before his smacking kiss lands on your cheek. “You’re perfecter than perfect.” 

“Cheesy,” you diagnose, the warmth of your skin increasing. “But thank you, sweetheart.” 

“Mm, you don’t look like you think it’s cheesy,” Sirius says, cupping the back of your neck and grinning at the heat he finds there. “You look quite pleased, actually.” 

“I can be both,” you counter. 

“I like seeing you this pleased.” James presses another, gentler, kiss to your temple. “You’ve seemed so happy since the surgery. I feel like I didn’t realize what we were missing out on before.” 

You tilt your head back against the cushions, looking at him. “Have I really?” You’ve certainly felt happier, but most of the time since your surgery has been spent in bed, alternately asking your boyfriends for help and complaining about how much help you need. 

James looks surprised you’d even ask, and Remus says, “Of course, dove. You carry yourself so differently, you thought we wouldn’t notice?” 

You feel your lips quirk, imagining yourself hobbling around during the walks James had forced you to go on because the doctor recommended it. “You mean like an elderly person?” 

“He means like a sure person,” Sirius says, and his gaze could melt you to the bone as it rakes from your chest up to your face. “You seem more at home in yourself.” He grins crookedly. “It’s hot.” 

“Easy.” James gives Sirius’ shoulder a little nudge. “They’re still not cleared for any of your depravities.” 

“Don’t know what you mean,” Sirius murmurs, bending to smear a kiss over the corner of your mouth. “Also, they haven’t said that yet. What did they say during your appointment, baby?” 

“I doubt that would fall under the list of sanctioned activities.” You’re unable to keep the tinge of giddiness from your voice, and your dastardly boyfriend grins at hearing it. “I’m still not allowed to do much. I thought I’d be able to shower this week, but no.” 

Sirius lights up at the last bit, and you narrow your eyes. Remus groans. 

“What?” you ask. 

“Now you’ve done it,” Remus says, managing to sound completely exasperated despite the humor in his eyes. 

“What?” you repeat, alarm increasing as Sirius’ grin spreads. 

James pats your shoulder consolingly, seeming to have also caught onto whatever’s made your boyfriend so happy. 

“I’ve found the perfect solution to our problem, sweetpea,” Sirius says, tone already wheedling. “I’ll just give you sponge baths.”

#poly!marauders #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders x nb!reader #nb!reader #poly!marauders x you #poly!marauders x y/n #poly!marauders x self insert #poly!marauders fanfiction #poly!marauders fanfic #poly!marauders fic #poly!marauders fluff #poly!marauders imagine #poly!marauders scenario #poly!marauders drabble #poly!marauders blurb #poly!marauders one shot #poly!marauders oneshot #james potter #james potter x reader #sirius black #sirius black x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #marauders #marauders fanfiction #the marauders #marauders fandom #hp marauders #marauders x reader #tw top surgery

[leikeliscomet]

“But We Love Martha Jones!” - The Doctor Who Fandom’s Selective Memory of Racism

Be aware that this article contains explicit examples of anti-black racism and misogynoir.

Chapter 2 - Utopia-ish

The constant nitpicking of Martha Jones for reasons white female companions could get away with was blatant anti-black racism. Let’s get that bit clear first and foremost. As a Black person in fandom, watching Black characters get torn apart while never being given the grace of their non-Black castmates is an experience that’s too common. Microaggressions are more subtle so the easiest way to shut down any mentions of racism is to accuse Black fans of making things up or telling us “Well it’s not like REAL racism”. Luckily Doctor Who Tumblr birthed the Martha Jones affirmative action and Aunt Jemima “memes” so I can cross both covert and overt racism off the list. As mentioned in extensive detail in the previous chapter, plus the various Martha Jones articles written before me, the treatment Martha experienced was racist. I don’t care if you personally didn’t like her. I don’t care that you missed Rose. I don’t care that Ten is your smol bean. Martha’s treatment was racist. Freema Agyeman’s treatment was racist. It might not have been everyone. It might not have been you personally. But it was there. The fandom can never be a safe space for POC, specifically Black people if this elephant in the room can’t be addressed over a decade after it arrived.

On paper, you’d assume Martha’s rep was good because “at least she wasn’t a Black stereotype”. Some fans praised her for having a present father, not speaking MLE and not being from the ends. This goes into respectability politics but the fandom’s weirdness about Black Brits and class is not the point of this article. The point is the revisionist history of how Martha was really treated and to do that it helps to know what Black tropes are. The Mammy trope is a Black woman whose main purpose is to serve her white counterparts and during slavery, she mainly cared for the slave owners' children. She is usually fat, dark skin and asexual, not as a representation of those things but as a statement of how if she isn’t used for sexual exploitation like the Jezebel (the promiscuous, reckless, sexualised Black woman), she has no sexual value at all. Her value is serving the needs of others only. Martha doesn’t fit this trope in theory but in practice, she fulfils the sub-categories of this trope both in show and fandom: the disposable Black (girl)friend trope. She is used as Ten’s emotional punching bag before he’s ready for Donna and then Rose again. She had to endure edgy moody S3 Ten so no one else had to. She’s the excuse people use to deflect any critical analysis of how race was handled in RTD1. She’s the fandom’s excuse to deflect from their own racial biases. Racism? No way! Everybody loves Martha Jones! What do you mean?

Some parts of the fandom have tried to mend things by suggesting Martha be paired with other doctors or romantically shipping her with other characters a bit better than Mickey Smith. But does this hold up? As much as I’m a big fan NineMartha as a concept and as someone who honestly saw one-off characters like Riley Vashtee from 42 or Tallulah from Daleks in Manhattan having way more romantic chemistry with Martha than Mickey ever did, simply re-shipping Martha isn’t enough. Doctor Who’s racism isn't exclusive to one doctor, one series or one era and new Martha pairings suggest the issue was “right person, wrong doctor” instead of what the issue actually was: racism. Moffat and Chibnall’s eras weren’t full of golden Black representation either so I doubt the Martha issue would’ve magically disappeared under those two. From Nine’s hostility to Mickey, to Twelve’s hostility to Danny Pink to Thirteen handing a South Asian Spymaster to the Nazis and Eleven only travelling with POC in comics most fans haven’t heard of and being besties with Churchill, simply putting Martha with another Doctor isn’t the serve fans think it is. Even RoseMartha seems like putting a bandaid on a bullet hole. If it's not enough for Martha to be compared to Rose, put down in favour of Rose, told she isn’t Rose and told she's worse than Rose in fandom and in show over and over and over, she has to be shipped with Rose too. Martha’s a great character… as long as you can tie her to Rose… again. Even in my own article I have to talk about Rose because Rose is centred in what was supposed to be Martha’s story. A doctor-to-be Black girl from London with a hectic family meets a Time Lord and gets abducted by space rhino police at work in one day. Her main conflict isn’t balancing work and time traveller life, or fighting to get her family back together, or seeing what’s out there in the universe - it's that she isn’t “Rose” enough. The Mammy and her sons’ main thing in common is simple; how well they serve and centre the white characters. In attempts to mend Martha’s treatment she is still only valued in relation to white characters. She should’ve been with Eleven because he would’ve fucked a Black woman. Or maybe Dilfy Twelve. Or a sapphic romance with another female companion who she saw twice or doesn’t actually know. Or maybe Ten in an alternate universe where he supports #nubianqueens. None of this is done to explore sexuality or romance with Black women and is definitely not to centre Black lesbianism and bisexuality. It’s Mammy with a dash of Jezebel. It's adding romantic and sexual value on top of physical and emotional value like a crappy meal deal.

I’m tired of Black women being treated as extensions of white women both in media and in real life. I’m tired of our value being determined by how well we serve white people emotionally, physically, platonically and sexually. And I'm even more tired of white feminism especially in this fandom. It would be so easy to label this article as anti-Rose, anti-Ten or anti-Tenrose to invalidate my whole racial analysis because it's the easy way out. I’ll admit I like both characters individually but not the ship but this isn’t something I decided on since birth - it's my conclusion as a Black fan in a predominantly white fandom, watching a predominantly white show, watching the first companion of my race be told she isn’t good enough compared to the white characters, and that the hatred of her is justified for the greater good of its popular white ship. Black fans can never have this conversation without being told we’re “pitting women against each other” and that Martha and Rose hugged once in S4 so everything's hunky dory. Martha’s happy that Ten found Rose again so what’s the problem? It sends a clear message that Black women’s pain will never matter a much as white women’s feelings. “Rose is amazing! Martha’s amazing! Stop pitting women against women!” but who was pit against who in the first place? These faux girl power posts fail to acknowledge the overlap of race and gender which separates the treatment of Black and white women. It fails to acknowledge Martha’s hate was rooted in anti-black racism. It fails to acknowledge the anti-Rose pushback was in response to how the show and fandom convinced us Rose was the untouchable bar this Black woman failed to meet. It fails to acknowledge Freema Agyeman the actress was targeted not just her character. It fails because the female empowerment rhetoric that leaves the Black ones at the bottom of the pile only “empowers” women of a certain demographic.

The harassment Martha experienced was swept under the rug of “stan wars” but it was so much deeper than that. I’m not saying Martha stans are angels but there was no “Great Stan War” because the sides were never even. At the end of the day no amount of “Martha’s better than Rose” tweets will ever compare to the fact that Martha hate was rooted in misogynoir. Rose was and still is considered the greatest companion of nuwho, whilst Martha is constantly erased and undervalued. Rose’s video views and hashtags have always been bigger than Martha’s. Amy and Clara came after Martha but still surpassed her in popularity and got plenty of fan edits of “The Girl Who Waited” and “The Impossible Girl” whilst Martha was conveniently skipped in the companion lineup. The fandom’s bias still shines clearly in favour of Rose over Martha. Rose’s jealousy towards other women is justifiable and just the ups and downs of a 19-year-old whilst Martha’s is entitled bitterness. Rose’s flaws are compelling character moments and depth, Martha’s are “holding her back from being a good companion”. Hell, even Donna calling out Ten’s BS was entertaining accountability whilst Martha was just the angry Black woman. Fans will weaponise Rose’s working-class roots to imply a pro-Martha bias, failing to acknowledge the working-class to poor background of the average Black Brit, the anti-blackness middle-class Black people are not spared from, the many working-class Black characters of the show like Mickey, Bill, Rigsy and Ryan or how most fans don’t consider Martha middle class because she doesn’t fit the white British cultural stereotypes. You can't be the most loved and hated at the same time. The hard truth is Billie Piper wasn’t racially abused by Martha stans but Freema was absolutely racially abused by Rose’s and the effects of this are still around. Go into Martha Jones tags today and you’ll see snarky posts of how Ten could never love another companion like Rose. Even when Freema bravely shared her experiences of literal racism, fans were quick to yell “But I wanted Ten and Rose though” as a justification for years of misogynoir. Again, we need to address the elephant in the room instead of covering our eyes and ears to act like it’s not there. A Black character and actress was collateral damage in order for a popular white ship to rise and whilst I’m not an anti, I as a Black Doctor Who fan, I’ll never be a supporter. At the end of the day, only one of these actresses is still carrying the burden of misogynoir over 10 years since RTD1 ended. A lonely walk across the Earth yet again.

<- Chapter 1 Chapter 3 ->

#martha jones #freema agyeman #doctor who fandom #doctor who #dw fandom #fandom racism #antiblackness #fandom antiblackness #fandom analysis #rose tyler #tenrose #tenmartha #rosemartha #ninemartha #eleven x martha #twelve x martha #marthadonna #thirteenmartha #rtd era #rtd critical #moffat critical #chibnall critical #black representation #new who #dr who fandom #doctor who analysis #rtd #rtd1 #fandom history

[birdwonder]

Any Eyeless Jack x Reader hcs please? 👀 Anything is good.

EYELESS JACK DATING HCs .

WARNINGS . . . Very vaguely spicy thanks to biting. I headcanon that EJ can see but it's super blurry and can only make out details if they're right in front of him, otherwise he relies on his nose, ears, ect to get by. EYELESS JACK . . . - Literally can not stand the sight of other people touching you. He knows better than to be mindlessly jealous but whether it be his own vice or a consequence of being resurrected by a demon, he hates seeing someone lay their hands on you. Which is ironic because his eye sight is fucking piss poor.

- Which also means he hates smelling other people on you. If the scent of another proxy was stuck to any of your clothes he wants to rip it apart. But still, he has restraint. Most times. - Jack is in no way above leaving reminders on your body to let people know you belong to him. Give him permission and he's sinking his teeth into you to leave a nice, visible bit on your shoulder or where your shoulder met your neck. It's either that or a horrendous amount of hickeys. - He isn't into PDA and won't hug or kiss you in front of people. Closed doors and open doors. But he won't complain too much if you really want to give him some affection, just don't overdo it. - Loves it when you sit on his lap. Doesn't matter your size, the man is massive and can hold you with no problem. Nestle down on his thighs and let him wrap his arms around your waist, your bodies pressed together. - It takes him a long time to get comfortable with not wearing his mask around you but he'll fall in love all over again if you don't make a big deal out of his face. There's no need to pepper him with praise either, just treat him like he's normal. - He does like to praise you, however. Jack will bury his face into your neck and mutter about how beautiful you are and how sweet you smell. He might let his wants take over his mouth and start mumbling about how you're his and his only. Might even mention how he'd kill and die for you. Maybe. - Jack is definitely a medic for other proxies so you make any excuse to come see him in the infirmary. Oh you got a little paper cut ? Guess you need to see the good doctor. He'll find it amusing and humours it since it means more time with you, even if he doesn't make that obvious. - "This is your third time this week coming here," he huffs. - "Not my fault I need medical attention !" You retort. - "Just sit on the bed."

#eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #requests #xreader #LOVE me some ej

[russellsppttemplates]

Soon enough (Lance Stroll)

There are many different ways to start a family, and Lance and Y/N are hopefully starting their own

Note: english is not my first language. This piece is written from experiences I know (my mother's, specifically), so it is probable that there are some mistakes as I'm not a doctor. Either way, I've tried to treat this as respectfully as possible as this is very close to my heart. Am I really giddy for the follow up parts? Yes, I am!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions endometriosis, fertility issues and treatments and associated topics like blood, medicine, hospitals, needles, etc., male masturbation, pregnancy

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"It's just going to be negative, Lance", you mumbled, placing the stick on top of the counter and turning to the tap to ways your hands. "Then we'll know what to look for, sweetheart", he attempted, knowing how much the subject weighed on your chest.

When you decided it was time to start thinking about building your family, you and Lance went back to Dr. Marlin like she had asked you. Given your endometriosis, she wanted to accompany you in your fertility journey, checking out all of the possibilities before you moved on to bigger situations.

Lance had been the most supportive partner, always there to cheer you on and to hold you whenever things didn't work out, "Dr. Marlin said that if this didn't work, we are moving on to the big treatments", you looked at him, "and that's what we will do if you want, whenever you feel comfortable", he kissed the side of your head after pulling you close to him, "we're in this together, Y/N".

Grabbing the test when your phone beeped, you didn't even flinch, "negative, like I said", you mumbled, your top lip trembling as you hid your face in your husband's neck. As much as you expected it, it still hurt. Like any other couple wanting to start parenthood, you wanted to remember this period of your life fondly, but you also knew you weren't any other couple. You weren't alone, and since you became more invested in learning about your condition, you found out about all the other couples who had been through the same and their happy families, remembering someone with a very similar history to yours.

"I love you, Y/N, so much. I love you and we're going to have our own family, my love", Lance whispered in your ear, "we're in this together until the end, whatever it takes", he soothed, kissing your skin and hugging you tight against him.

"Do you have any meetings today?", you asked as you pulled away a few moments later, wiping your tears on your sleeve, "I have one at the end of the day, and I'm free for the rest of the week", Lance informed, "I have to get to work for the afternoon only, my morning is free too", you sniffed.

"Then I can call Dr. Marlin to book an appointment and you can go and get ready because we are going on a walk. It's a very quiet one, I doubt we'll run into anyone, okay?", he suggested, smiling when he saw your lips curve upwards slightly, "you're the best. I love you, Lance", you kissed his lips, walking out the bathroom and into the bedroom while he made the phone call.

.

"Do you need a blood sample?", you asked the assistant on the counter, "no, today it's just an ultrasound, and after that you might have to come in for other samples, just depends on how the appointment goes today", she smiled, "Dr. Marlin will call you shortly".

Sitting next to Lance as you waited, you grabbed his hand and started playing with in fingers on top of his thigh, "are you ready to hear that my uterus is a sad sad place for a baby to grow and that not even your guys want to stay in there? We've known eacother for a good while, so I thought we'd befriended, but apparently they're either too snobby or my uterus is a very hostile place", you joked, hoping that it would shake your nerves off, "too much?", you cringed.

"That's not the weirdest thing you've said to me", your husband chuckled, "and I'll listen to anything you say as long as it makes you smile", he cupped your cheek, "besides, who knows? Maybe my guys are also picky, or slow".

Dr. Marlin welcomed you in her office not long after, greeting you and confirming the informations she had, "like we discussed before, it seems that our best approach would be treatments like IVF. For that, of you still want to go for that route, we'll need some samples so we can also rule out any questions from Lance and see where your levels are", she said, getting up, "for today, we'll do the ultrasound as this will also given us more information".

Getting up and laying down on the bed, Lance followed you, standing on your side as you lifted your shirt enough for her to squeeze the gel and move the wand around, "see here? This is your fallopian tube, and it seems the most blocked, while your uterus is actually shedding well enough", she explained, pointing to the different spots on the screen.

"And is that good or bad? I mean, given the circumstances", you questioned, "I can't tell you with absolute certainty, as everyone is different, but this is usually a good sign. It means that it's your eggs that are not travelling to the uterus, and not like you have a low count or that they don't have a good place to settle once fertilised", she smiled, "I'm prescribing you the bloodwork and the samples we need, but after that, if everything checks out, we'll wait for your period and then we'll start couting from there".

.

"It's time for the shot, sweetheart", Lance called, grabbing the supplies he needed as you sat on the sofa. Even though you were fine doing it by yourself, having Lance doing the injections when he was home helped him feel involved in the process. "You can leave that there, then I can just pick it up after you take the needle out", you noted, placing the gauze in your thigh.

Lance tapped the syringe twice to make sure it was at the right level, kneeling down in front of you, "I'm just going to pinch your tummy, is this side, right?", he confirmed, seeing you nod, "are you ready, love?", he checked over before injecting the medicine on your skin, holding the syringe steady for a little bit before pulling it out, discarding it in the medical waste bin Dr. Marlin had given you while you dealt with the burn.

"This one is burning a lot more than I expected", you moaned, squeezing your eyes shut as the stung softened, feeling Lance's lips on your tummy and right by your hand that was pressing the gauze down, "you're very brave, Y/N, I love you".

"I love you too, handsome", you cradled his face, rubbing his stubbly cheek before helping him store the supplies for the next injection time, "we only have four days left", you smiled, looking at the medicine vials.

"Soon enough, Y/N, soon enough", he kissed your forehead, hugging carefully to not press on your tender lower belly, "you're so amazing all I keep doing is just that, but you're taking it all in, it's your body going through the changes", he kissed your softly.

"You're the one dealing with these hormonal changes, I still can't believe I cried when your sister showed up at the table with the pie a little bit more golden that it usually is. It wasn't burnt and it tasted amazing as usual, but the sight of it not done like usual sent me in a fit of cries", you blushed. Chloe was understanding like you expected her to be, but you still couldn't shake her panicked few seconds when she saw your tears, calling her brother immediately so he could hug you and soothe you.

"It's part of the process, love, and I want to be here for as much as I'm able", he said, interrupted by the sound of your phone going off, "it's Dr. Marlin, let me put in on speaker".

The phone call couldn't have gone better, "Y/N, I've reviewed the scans and it looks really good, keep up with the rest of the treatment and next week we'll look into the retrievals", she announced.

.

"This wasn't the way we were supposed to make a baby", you mumbled, "I should be getting naked and we'd be in our bed, and we'd whisper how much we love eachother and then we'd cuddle in said bed, not with me in a procedure room and you in another, in these cold and sterile sheets", you looked up at Lance.

You were back in the clinic so the doctors could collect both samples, and while you've had the years to prepare for this, and with therapy it was something you had worked over, sometimes you were still plagued by these thoughts.

Fortunately, your husband knew just what to say, "it's not the usual way, yes, but it's filled with love nonetheless. You're putting yourself through procedures after your body had been medicated with injections, and that is love. For out little one who we will hopefully hold in our arms when the time comes, love for our family and love for me. You're going to make me a father because of this amount of love you're showing me and that we share, okay?", he smiled soothingly, kissing your forehead, "no more of those worries, okay? Besides, we'll have loads of time for you to touch me and for me to touch you", he winked, helping you turn around so he could help you with the gown's tie.

Kissing your forehead goodbye once the nurses came to take you, Lance was then pulled to a room for himself, "all of the supplies you need are there", she pointed to the sterile table, leaving him alone in the room. Masturbating in a hospital room was not something he ever thought about doing. It wasn't that you weren't there with him, because he certainly had done it many times whenever he travelled for races and you weren't there, so he figured it was the white walls, plain in a room that only had the purpose he was in there for too. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he found the photo album of pictures of you he kept for these occasions. The collection was built along the years you've dated, usually ending up on his phone whenever you both felt particularly daring and in need of the other and you weren't physically able to satisfy it. The picture he used, however, was one he had taken himself. The picture was probably three months old as he had taken in on your anniversary, your naked side profile as you looked sweetly at the camera. You hadn't done anything big to celebrate it, opting instead for staying in and spending your time between the sheets working on your shared dream of a family. And that's exactly what he was doing right now, stroking himself as he recalled the sweet noises you make that he adores so much, the way you feel around him and how your body feels in his hands, soon collecting his finish in the sterile cup.

Making sure it was sealed tight and then washing his hands, Lance fixed himself and walked out of the room, heading up to the desk and handing his sample to the nurse, "there you go", he began, seeing her store it in a cooler like box, "I'm sorry to bother, but do you have any news on my wife?", he wondered, "Y/N's procedure seems to be concluded", the nurse looked at the monitor in front of her, "they're probably just finishing up and she'll be up in her room any minute. Do you want me to walk you there?".

"I think I still remember the way, thank you though", Lance smiled, walking along the corridors until he found the room you had been in. He sat in the comfortable chair, smiling when he saw your colourful fuzzy socks waiting on your bag, remembering reading reports from other women saying that their feet were cold after the retrieval, and since you weren't a big fan of the cold, Lance made sure to pack them for you.

The noise in the corridor caught his attention as the nurse that had wheeled you to the procedure room came back, wheeling you back inside, "she's still a bit sleepy, but the procedure went well. Dr. Marlin said that, at first glance, everything is right on track", she smiled as she noticed Lance's worry fade, "we will be both here in a bit so we can discharge her, but if something happens meanwhile, there's a bell there", she pointed, excusing herself and closing the door behind her.

Turning to face you, Lance kissed your cheek as you fluttered your lashes, "hey, sleepy girl", he cooed, prompting you to fully open your eyes, "I heard you did really well in there", he admitted proudly.

"Yes, they said something about a good number of eggs, I think I might've compared myself to a chicken, so you know, good things", you giggled, looking for his hand to hold, "thank you, for all this", you kissed his knuckles, "no need to thank me, we're in this together, sweetheart".

After explaining you the signs you should look out for, the medical team discharged you and off home you went with Lance.

.

Since you got the call to book the embryo transfer day, you and Lance had been cautiously hopeful with the results, "Lance, Y/N, I'm happy to say that we have 10 embryos to work with. They have developed healthily and without any complications", Dr. Marlin cheered.

"Let's go get a baby put inside of me, hm?", you stepped out of the car, holding Lance's hand as you walked to the door. Checking in was quick and you were almost immediately welcomed into the procedure room, sitting in the bed and covering yourself as requested.

"I imagine I'm looking very sexy", you joked in a way to deal with the nerves, "you always look the sexiest to me", your husband kissed the side of your head, resting his forehead in yours, "we're finally here, my love, you've got this, we've got this", he whispered, almost terrified that of he spoke any louder he would disturb the mood.

You heard a knock on the door, Dr. Marlin and her colleague walking in wheeling a small cart, "we have your embryos here", she pointed to the environment where they had been developing. As they rearranged the room, they pushed a highchair by your side, telling Lance he could sit in there while they worked, "so, Y/N, you shouldn't feel too much pain, rather some pressure as we make the transfer", she said as she maneuvered the small catheter, her colleagues guiding the ultrasound as you looked at Lance, finding the usual calm in his brown eyes.

"That was very well placed, actually the perfect spot", Dr. Marlin said, smiling behind her mask as he removed the devices and covered you up. "It's done", she empathised, rubbing your shoulder and hugging you, "now you're just going to stay here for 10, 15 minutes or so, to make sure everything settles", she excused herself, leaving you and Lance in the room.

"We made a baby and they're inside of you", Lance choked out. Throughout this process, he had always been the strong one, the one to hold you whenever you didn't want to do the injection because it hurt too much, whenever you felt like crap from the meds and whenever you lost hope, but today he cried for the first time, bringing tears to your own, "I'm so happy, I promise these are happy tears", he chuckled, "I always say that I'm the luckiest guy because you love me, at my best and t my worst, and today you proved it to me once again. I really am the luckiest", he kissed your lips, salty tears in the mix while you waited.

"We'll see you in two weeks for the test, okay?", your OB waved goodbye after giving you two big hugs, "thank you, once more", you spoke, forever grateful for the way she led you through this whole journey.

Driving home was quiet and comfortable, your seat adjusted so you didn't have as much pressure on your abdominal area, "They really should get this holes sorted, they've been here for a while now and they're only getting worse", Lance mumbled, "I'm sorry, sweetheart", he apoligised as he slowed down the car as much as it was safe to, "it's fine, it doesn't hurt or anything", you justified, not seeing the need to be so careful.

Blushing, your husband passed all the holes, the concrete now smooth as he drove faster again, "can't give any more shakes to the little bun, you know? Making sure they stay glued to the wall and all", he said sweetly, hopefully bringing lightness to the situation as you pouted at his cuteness.

"I love you, Lance. There's no one else I'd want to do this with", you stretched your hand, landing on his thigh as his own hand travelled to your tummy, rubbing it softly and hoping that your family was growing inside of you.

#lance stroll imagine #lance stroll fanfic #lance stroll fluff #lance stroll x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

About representation of child abuse in ML

I’m sorry if this isn’t the proper way to send it I chose it because I can actually divide paragraphs here. I am also assuming none of the abuse submissions are reblogged because of the subject.  I was neglected as a child(parents often forgot to feed me, didn’t care about my hygiene and I couldn’t go to the doctor when I should have) and emotionally abused after coming out as trans as a young teen(constantly being pressured to stop being trans, treating me as stupid and melodramatic for being trans at all, showing open disgust if I did something “too manly” etc.). I was a bully for two years in middle school before realizing the weight of what I was doing. I had to put in a lot of effort to improve, especially since guilt was feeding into already-existing self-hatred. When I first saw Miraculous Ladybug on TV I didn’t expect child abuse to come up at all since it’s a hard topic even for adults and Miraculous didn’t seem like the show to tackle a complicated topic. Looking back they shouldn’t have tried because they end up giving incredibly bad messages. As you point out Chloe is treated as irredeemable and sent off with her abusive parent as punishment while Andre is never treated as the neglectful parent he is. While children can be abusive to their parents Andre is the mayor of Paris while Chloe is a kid, he holds a lot of power here that he refuses to use at all. He also doesn’t try to get Chloe psychological help which would be the correct course of action seeing her mother despite the fact it wouldn’t even make a dent in his pocket. It would be better to either have Chloe’s redemption fail while highlighting how her parents affect her behaviour but don’t justify it or have a straightforward redemption arc, maybe one where she doesn’t get forgiven but still improves to show kids there’s a way out. “I will always be like this because of abuse” is an easy thought to fall into and ML accidentally ends up teaching it to kids, Jesus. The other thing that really bugs me is the treatment Gabriel gets, it seems to me that the show tries to use his love for his wife and son as a redeeming quality but I am not sure on how good an idea that is. It’s better than if he were to hate Adrien but loving Adrien doesn’t excuse any of the things he does. In my experience most abusive parents do love their children, they really think they are doing the best for their kids. The kicker comes in when they end up harming their children in some way but refuse to acknowledge it. If your parents always end up doing more harm than good and refuse to stop, then love alone can’t save it. I don’t think that point was there as Gabriel’s love was portrayed as a good thing because this show doesn’t do nuance. Also the plot Gabriel abusing Adrien should mainly be about how Adrien feels. Of course it will affect other characters but Adrien is the one getting abused by Gabriel. Gabriel is also an incredibly controlling parent who takes away Adrien’s agency and the show never really addresses that. Adrien is a bystander in a story-arc about him getting abused. He never learns that Gabriel is Hawk Moth(writers seem to think we forgot Chat Blanc and even then that episode was more about “Ooo hero gets akumatized”), we never learn his thoughts about the whole situation and Gabriel completely gets his way in the end, leading to a happy ending. Adrien’s contribution to the finale is giving up the agency he had left. This really left a sour taste in my mouth. If you’re not going to deal with how abuse affects Adrien, why write it in at all?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

First of all, I’d like to thank you for being able to step forward and talk about your history with your parents. I’m very sorry that you had to go through that.

Second of all, you make a good point with how much the show empasizes Gabriel’s love for his family supposedly justifying his terrible actions, with or without the mask. It doesn’t help that, like you said, he doesn’t even get to confront Gabriel about their relationship himself, and ends the season believing all the delusions Gabriel had about him being a good father. 

Hell, even the movie does a better job at pointing out how much Gabriel has hurt his son over the show itself, and I’m pretty sure that’s why so many people prefer that version of Gabriel over this one. 

#thing delivered to my ask box because tumblr won't let me say the s-word #immaturity of thomas astruc #iota #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug salt #child abuse in miraculous ladybug

[tellmealovestory]

Trick-or-treat

Summary: Your little family goes trick-or-treating for the first time.

Warnings: A few lines of suggestive dialogue, but mostly fluff and also dad!Eddie

Spooktober Masterlist

“Ladies, let’s go!” Eddie says, fist pounding on the door of the bathroom in impatience. “All the good candy is gonna be gone soon!” 

“Chill, Eddie, we’re almost done!” you shout back.

Your daughter dances impatiently in the bathroom and not one to be outdone she turns her tiny face towards the bathroom door to shout, “yeah, dada chill!”

His laughter rings out on the other side of the door following his retreating footsteps. Finishing the last touches on your daughter’s costume you tie the bandana around her forehead and tell her, “okay, baby, go show daddy your costume before he has another meltdown.” Booping her on the nose you open the door for her and watch as she waddles out to Eddie. 

She acts so much like him it makes your heart sing every time you look at her or see them together. She was a surprise that caught both of you off guard and made you question if either of you were ready to be parents and though it’s hardly been smooth sailing raising a child in a too small apartment on too small checks your little family makes do. 

There’s also the added bonus that having her has given Eddie a second chance at a happy childhood that he missed out on when he was growing up. 

Swiping on a layer of lipstick you adjust your top and step out of the bathroom door watching Eddie and his daughter. He’s got her in his arms, peppering sloppy kisses to the top of her head and forehead, each one making her giggle and coo as she flails her arms about. 

Such a daddy’s girl. 

“See? Now wasn’t that worth the wait?” you tease, stepping towards him to press a kiss to his cheek before grabbing the neon green pumpkin pail she’ll be using for trick or treating. 

“It’s always worth the wait for my little rockstar.” 

You smile softly as he grabs the keys to his outdated van while still holding onto his daughter. 

“Not just any rockstar,” you start, shutting the lights off behind you and locking the door, “She wanted to dress just like her daddy.” 

The words and realization make Eddie pause on the steps outside the apartment door and he takes a longer look at his daughter's little rockstar costume. Dressed in a black tee shirt she’s drowning in and black leggings and boots she’s got a bandana tied around her forehead just like Eddie always wears on stage.

Eddie’s heart picks up speed as it all clicks into place. You’re right. She is dressed like him and it makes him smile so wide his face hurts. 

“Who’s idea was that? Yours or hers?” 

“Hers. I gave her a hundred different options and all she said was she wanted to dress like you. But not the mechanic you. Apparently that’s not as cool as her dad being a part time rockstar.” 

Reaching the van it’s a well oiled machine as you both work to buckle her into her carseat before sliding into the drivers and passenger side respectively.

The town of Hawkins is decorated like the set from a movie scene. Orange and purple lights are strung up on porch railings. Carved pumpkins stuffed with candles flicker on porches. Kids dressed as everything from princesses and doctors to ninja mutant turtles run through the streets as doorbells and fists knocking on doors fill the night air. 

While Eddie grabs your daughter from her seat you grab the red wagon with a squeaky wheel that he promised he’d fix before tonight as you begin to walk through the streets. You take turns taking her up to each house. Her manners impeccable, her smile huge, her giggles louder than the other kids as she proudly tells everyone who asks that she dressed like her daddy the rockstar.

Most of the parents don’t care. Hell, most of the kids don’t care either, but Eddie can’t stop hearing it enough. 

As the night wears on and your daughter starts to get tired you place her in the wagon piled high with fluffy blankets and pillows as you swing her overstuffed pail of candy and popcorn balls back and forth. 

“So,” Eddie starts, gaze sliding over to you to take in your appearance of a ripped Corroded Coffin tee shirt, black skirt, fishnet stockings and thigh high boots. “I know what she’s dressed as, but what are you supposed to be?” 

You jut your hip out as he pauses in front of another house to let a group of teenagers pass. You peek at your daughter seeing her not paying attention to either of you as she begins to clamber out of the wagon by herself accomplishing it after a few tries. You both watch her hurry up to the house before finally answering his question.

“Isn’t it obvious?” you purr, hand resting on his chest. “I’m dressed as your number one groupie.” 

If the smile on his face was large hearing his daughter was dressed as him the smile on his face hearing what you just said is pure filth.

His hands fall to your waist and he closes the tiny bit of distance between your bodies as his lips hover mere inches from yours. “Might be the best costume I’ve seen all night.” 

“Mm. Maybe if you’re real good tonight I’ll give you a treat instead of a trick that I’m sure you’ll enjoy.” 

“Better not be teasing me,” he growls seconds before his lips are on yours, but the kiss is short lived as your daughter comes stumbling towards you both, wrapping her tiny arms around Eddie’s legs she peers up at him like he hung the moon and the stars just for her. 

“Dada,” she starts, “Let’s go!” 

You laugh with Eddie as it’s so reminiscent of the way that he demanded you both to hurry up before leaving. 

“Yes, ma’am. So demanding,” he teases, picking her up as he begins to jog down to the next street. “You know she gets that attitude from you.” 

“Excuse me?” you laugh, pulling the wagon behind you as you trail after them. “That is all you, Eddie!”

His laughter joins yours and as you finish up the night trick-or-treating you’re filled with love and happiness. 

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson #my writing

[intersexbookclub]

Discussion summary: Left Hand of Darkness

Published in 1969, The Left Hand of Darkness is a classic in science fiction that explores issues of sex/gender in an alien-yet-human society where the aliens are just like us except in how they reproduce. These aliens, the Gethenians, can reproduce as either male or female. They spend most of their lives sexually undifferentiated. Once a month, they go into heat (“kemmer”) and their sexual organs activate as either male or female (it’s essentially random).

Here's a summary of the discussions we had on 2023-08-25 and 2023-09-01 about the book:

HIGH LEVEL REACTONS

Michelle (@scifimagpie): even though it was written by a cis straight perisex woman there is a queerness to the writing that feels true and that she nailed. There is a queerness to the soul of this book that still holds up, that's true and good, and I cannot but love and respect that.

Elizabeth (@ipso-faculty): this book is such a commentary on 1960s misogyny. Genly is a raging misogynist. It takes a whole prison break and crossing the arctic for Genly to realize a woman or androgyne can be competent 👀

Dimitri: [Having read just the first half of the book] I wonder if it keeps happening, if Genly keeps going "woaaaah" [to the Gethenians’ androgyny] or if he ever acclimates. It's been half the novel my guy

vic: yeah a book where a guy is destroyed by seeing a breast makes me want queer theory

vic: [it also] makes me feel good to see how much has changed [since the 1960s]

THE INTERSEX STUFF

A thing we appreciated about the book was how being intersex is contextual. The main character of the book, Genly Ai, is a human from a planet like Earth, who visits Gethen to open trade and diplomatic relations.

On his home planet, and to Earth sensibilities, Genly is perisex - he is able to reproduce at any time of the month and is consistently male.

But on Gethen, Genly becomes intersex. On Gethen, the norm is that you only manifest (and can reproduce as) a given sex during the monthly kemmer (heat/oestrus) period. 

The Gethenians understand Genly as living in “permanent kemmer”, which is described as a common (intersex) condition, and these people are hyper-sexualized and referred to as Perverts.

At this point it’s worth noting that depiction is not the same as endorsement. Michelle pointed out the book is very empathetic to those in permanent kemmer. LeGuin does not appear to be endorsing the social stigma faced by these people, merely depicting it, and putting a mirror to how our own society treats intersex people.

Throughout the book, Genly is treated as an oddity by the Gethenians. He is hyper sexualized. He undergoes a genital inspection to prove he is who he says he is. 

When Genly is sent to a prison camp and forcibly given HRT, he does not respond “normally” to the hormones, the effects are way worse for him, and the prison camp staff don’t care, and keep administering them even if it’ll kill him. 

Two of us have had the experience of having hyperandrogenism and being forced onto birth control as teenager, and relating to the sluggishness of the drugs that Genly experienced, as well as the sense that gender/sex conformity was more important to authority figures (parents, doctors) than actual health and well-being.

Another scene we discussed the one where Genly is in a prison van en route to the gulag, and a Gethenian enters kemmer and wants to mate with him and he declines. He is given multiple opportunities over the course of the book to try having sex with a Gethenian, and declines every time, and we wondered if he avoided it out of trauma of being hyper-sexualized & hyper-medicalized & having had his genitals inspected.

We discussed the way he described his genital inspection through a trauma lens, and how it interacts with toxic masculinity - in vic’s terms, Genly being "I am a manly man and I have don't trauma"

Those of us who read the short story, Coming of Age in Karhide, noted that once the world was narrated from a Gethenian POV, the people in permanent kemmer were treated far more neutrally, which gave us the impression that Genly as an unreliable narrator was injecting some intersexism along with his misogyny

WHY IT MATTERS TO READ THIS BOOK THROUGH AN INTERSEX LENS

Elizabeth: I’ve encountered critiques of this book from perisex trans folks because to them the book is committing biological essentialism, and dismissing the book as a result. I think they’re missing that this book is as much about (inter)sex as it is about gender. I think they’re too quick to dismiss the book as being outdated or having backwards ideas because they’re not appreciating the intersex themes. 

Elizabeth: The intersex themes aren’t exactly subtle, so it kind of stings that I haven’t seen any intersex analyses of this book, but there are dozens (hundreds?) of perisex trans analyses that all miss the huge intersex elephants in the room.

Also Elizabeth: I’ve seen this book show up in lists of intersex books/characters made by perisex people, and I’ve seen Estraven listed as intersex character, and it gets me upset because Estraven isn’t intersex! Estraven is perisex in the society in which he lives. Genly is the intersex character in this story and people who misunderstand intersex as being able to reproduce as male & female (or having quirky genitals smh) are completely missing that being intersex is socially constructed and based on what is considered typical for a given species.

WHAT THE BOOK DOESN’T HANDLE WELL

The body descriptions. As Dmitri put it: “ Like "his butt jiggled and it reminded  me of women" ew. It was intentional but I had to put the book down. It reminded me of transvestigators and how they take pictures of people in public.” 🤮

Not pushing Genly to reflect on how weird he is about other people’s bodies. We all had issues with how Genly is constantly scrutinizing the bodies of other humans to assess their gender(s) and it’s pretty gross.

vic asked: “how much of this is her reproducing violence without her knowing it? A thing I didn't like was how he always judging and analyzing people's bodies and realizing others treat him that way. And I wish there was more of his discomfort about this, that it made him feel icky.”

Dimitri added: “I really wanted him to have a moment of this too, for him to realize how much it sucks to be treated this way. As a trans person it's so uncomfortable. What are you doing going around doing this to people?”

Using male pronouns as default/ungendered pronouns. Élaina asked why Genly thinks a male pronoun is more appropriate for a transcendent God and pointed out there’s a lot to unpack there.

OTHER POSITIVES ABOUT THE BOOK

Genly’s journey towards respecting women, that he still had a ways to go by the end of the book. vic pointed out how “LeGuin was straight, and she loves men, and is kinda giving them the side-eye [in this book]. Her writing about how Genly is childish makes me really happy. It’s kind of hilarious to watch him bang his head against the wall because he’s so rigid.” 

To which Dmitri added: “I agree with the bit on forgiving men for stuff. I don't know how she [LeGuin] does it but she really lays it all out. She gives you a platter of how men are bad at things, how they make mistakes that are pretty specific to them. She has prepared a buffet of it.”

Autistic Estraven! As Michelle put it: “autistic queer feels about Estraven speaking literally and plainly and Genly not getting it”

The truck chapter. Hits like a pile of bricks. We talked about it as a metaphor for the current pandemic.

The Genly x Estraven slowburn queerplatonic relationship

The conlang! Less is more in how it gets used

MIXED REACTIONS

The Foretelling. For some it felt unnecessary and a bit fetishy. For others it was fun paranormal times.

Pacing. Some liked how the book really forces you to really contemplate as you go. Others struggled with a pace that feels very slow to 2023 readers.

WORKS WE COMPARED THE BOOK TO

Star Trek (the original series) - we wondered if LHOD and Genly Ai were progressive by 1960s standards, and TOS came up as a comparison point. We were all of the impression that TOS was progressive for its time but all of us find it pretty misogynist by our standards. The interest in extra-sensory perception (ESP) is something that was a staple of TOS that feels very strange to contemporary viewers and also cropped up in LHOD

Ancillary Justice - for being a book where characters’ genders are all ambiguous but the POV character is actually normal about how they describe other characters’ bodies.

The Deep - for being another book in a situation where being able to reproduce as male and female is the norm. The Deep was written by an actually intersex author, and doesn’t have the cisperisex gaze of scrutinizing every body for sex. But oddly LHOD actually winds up feeling more like a book about intersex people, because it features a character who is the odd one out in a gonosynic society. In contrast, nobody is intersex in the Deep - everybody matches the norms for their species, which makes the intersex themes in the work much more subtle.

Overall, as vic put it, “there's something to be said about an honest depiction that's not great, especially when there's no alternatives”. For a long time there weren’t many other games in town when it came to this sort of book, and even though some things now feel dated, it’s still a valuable read. We’d love to see more intersex reviews & analyses of the book!

#intersex book club #book summaries #book reviews #left hand of darkness #the left hand of darkness #ursula k. le guin #intersex books #intersex literature #queer books #queer literature #queer fiction #queer scifi #intersex

[808airsoftbros]

Hospital Love (Karina)

Author: Another classic oneshot from my old oneshot book. Hope you all like it! Also, be sure to check out my Masterlist for more fics :)

Y/N's POV

Hey, so you probably are wondering who the hell I am… my name is Kim Y/N and I am a patient here at Korean Mental Institution and I've been here for quite a while. For what? You are probably asking. I was subjected to parental abuse and basically suffered for my entire life leading me to become insane and because of that the authorities sent me here.

So far the the doctors here are completely useless as f*ck, they treat me terribly and force me to do impossible activities and I usually get in alot of trouble because I was so uncooperative. That's what bring me to the point where I don't trust anybody. Until she came…

Flashback

Just great, another doctor has quitted on me, tsk. How typical. How the hell did they even become doctors in the first place if there so incompetent and ruthless?

Knocking

I hear the door knocking and I see a women who is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my miserable life. She sits down on the rolling chair and rolls toward me.

"What do you want?" I asked coldly to the doctor.

"Why, I'm here to help you, Mr. Kim." She answered in a friendly tone and I just scoff.

"That's what they all say and what happens is that they just abandon me." I responded.

"Well I am not doing that. That's for certain. My name is Doctor Min or you can call me Karina if you like." She introduces herself and she raises her hand.

I didn't move or do anything because I didn't trust her one bit. But she gives me the brightest smile and I don't know why but I just returned the handshake but I did it hesitantly.

"Now look, I don't like the doctors here either. There mean and irresponsible for their patients and I figured since they can't do their job, I could help you." Karina said in a serious tone which I find surprising. Nobody has ever said to me.

"How do I know you'll keep your promise?" I asked her.

"No matter how it hard it may seem, I'll always stick with you until you are cured." Karina responded with sincere in her voice.

"You promise?" I asked nervously and she nods.

End of Flashback

Yep, that's how I met my new doctor Karina who surprisingly happened to be one of the most nicest and kindest person I have ever met in my life.

Knocking

I hear the door open revealing to be Karina and I smiled and she smiled back.

"I see your in a happy mood today, Y/N." Karina comments and I blush and she giggles in response.

"How are you feeling today?" She asked me and I responded that I was fine thanks to her.

"Oh, that's good to hear!" Karina responds and she writes it down in her notes.

After she was done I do her therapy treatment she told me that my health is looking better based on her notes which I am very happy to hear. But the question is…

"What do I do when I get out of here?"

"Where do I go?"

I pretty much have nothing besides her so I am lost. I sigh confused on what happens to me after I get out of this hellhole.

"Is something wrong, Y/N?" Karina asks me in a soft voice and I snapped back into reality.

"Karina, what do I do when I get out of here?" I asked her curiously which leaves her to think about it before responding.

"Do you have any place you can stay?" Karina asks me and I shake my head.

"How about you live with me?" Karina suggests leaving me dumbfounded and not believing a single word she just said.

"W-Wait, what?!" I asked her in response and she giggled.

"Well to be honest, your kinda cute." She responded and pinched my cheek leaving me blushing hard and I can't even respond right now!

"So what do you think~?" Karina asks me and I sigh since I don't really have a choice.

"Okay, I'll live with you." I responded and Karina smiled brightly.

TIMESKIP

After going through final examinations on my health I was finally discharged from that joke of a hospital and Karina helped pack my things after were done we arrive to her car and put all my luggage in the trunk.

"Ready?" Karina asks me and I nod.

I enter the passenger seat and we drive off .

10 Minutes of Driving Later…

Finally we arrive to her house and it was just a single story house, nothing too fancy but it was nice. I unpack my things from the trunk and we entered her house. The living room was cleaned and the house was neat and tidy.

"You like it?" She asks me and I nod.

"Come, follow me." She instructed me and she takes me arm so I follow her to what appears to be the masters bedroom. "What are we doing here?" I asked her curiously and she smirked at me.

"Why this can be our room, IF you be my boyfriend." Karina responded to me and my eyes widen.

"What do you mean?" I asked her nervously.

"Y/N, you've been through enough and I want you to live a normal life with me." She explained to me and I look down thinking about it. She is beautiful and I consider her my angel since she is always there for me when no one was.

"I guess I have no other choice." I thought to myself.

I smile and responded "Okay, I'll be your boyfriend." and she squealed and hugged me tightly.

TIMESKIP

It was nighttime and me and her were cuddling in bed watching Netflix and after a few episodes of K-Drama shows we turned it off and went to bed.

"Hey, babe~." She called me in a seductive tone.

"Yes?" I responded.

"I'm not tired yet~." Karina said to me in a seductive tone which sends shivers down my spine.

"W-What do you want me to do about it?" I asked nervously while looking at her smirking at me.

She didn't say anything to me instead she just pin me to the bed and get on top of me and I shivered in fear.

"You'll see…" She responds to me.

#kpop #kpop idol #kpop gg #bxg #aespa #aespa yoo jimin #aespa karina #karina x reader #x male reader #hospital #doctors #romance #kpop oneshots

[hanibalistic]

WHO YOU ARE, WHO I AM | LEE MINHO.

genre | fluff, angst, (semi) slow burn / arranged marriage au / strangers to lovers / 4th wall break

synopsis | when you wake up to a good-looking man who claims to be your husband, there isn’t much to do aside from assuming you got stuck in a drama.

word count | 12.0k+

warning | car crash / not edited since the first time i posted this story

note | bye-bye baby, i love you baby. more than that body pillow drabble at least.​

parts | one, two, three

After the doctor bandaged your hands and did some checkup on you to make sure you had sustained no more damage from the fall, you were glad to hear that they would take up the responsibility to call Minho’s parents instead.

You could not find the energy to talk to anyone about anything—perhaps you would give Yuna an earful about what happened, but she was gone by the time you got picked up by others around the scene. Tears kept falling down your face when you were getting treated, and the doctor in charge stopped asking you if she was hurting you anymore. It was obvious that your concern lay on someone else.

How did this happen? You always thought you would be so agile and smart during emergencies. The cold water of truth once again splashed down on you, reminding you that just because you think you’d be cool doesn’t mean you would be when your thoughts turn into reality. This isn’t the law of attraction, you can’t manifest the car away and you sure as well can’t manifest peace.

You sighed, your lashes wet and your under-eye pained from all the rubbing. It had to happen this way, didn’t it? The car crash was, unfortunately, essential in your drama. If it wasn’t the kidnapping, it if wasn’t the psychotic mother, if it wasn’t even the love triangle, then it would be the goddamn car crash. And as usual, it was infuriating and you wished it hadn’t happened.

It wasn’t that you minded the car crash (you would like to not see it as a plot device so often, though). You just hoped it hadn’t been Minho who got hit because he cared enough to save you from it. And now you were left here, sitting in the hospital lobby and being haunted by all the gut-wrenching components of a drama car crash.

Broken hands, broken legs, brain dead, blindness, mute, deaf, paralyzed, coma, a sudden discovery of cancer, a sudden discovery of related bloodlines, a sudden discovery of a terminal illness. You squealed under your breath as you went down the list, approaching the most common trait of them all—amnesia.

Sure, dramas usually have this rule where all you needed to endure was one to two months of hardships where Minho would revert to hating your guts, and then he would either fall in love with you again or you would give him the magical kiss of memory revival and he would suddenly remember your past together.

But those are often so unpredictable! You have watched hundreds of dramas that spin down several different lanes, and all of them have left you heartbroken one way or another. And by now you have learned how much different it would be for you to have to experience such events by yourself! If you could cry so hard because of what those pixelated people are going through, how would you begin to cope with experiencing it yourself?

A sob forced itself up to your throat, your chest sustained the pain of holding it in for too long it felt like you swallowed too many things at once, it felt like you were suffocating. You were afraid. So far, you have skated through every event with a very humorous coping mechanism, one that never does any long-term help. But this was different, this could last forever.

No, this wasn’t supposed to be the forever you experience. You two have just begun, you two were just starting to love each other loudly and happily. You haven’t had enough yet, you wanted more time! The gate to Heaven shouldn’t be allowed to close itself at people’s faces!

“Hello? Excuse me?”

You looked up at the doctor standing in front of you and immediately stood up, wiping your eyes on cue even though you had passed the point of crying and ceasing the chaos in your head. “Yes! How–how is Minho?”

“Good. He only got a few fractured ribs, a bad concussion, and a badly scraped forehead. He didn’t suffer any damage to his internal organs and there are no signs of internal bleeding,” the doctor explained. “He just needs to rest for now, but I estimate that he will wake up sooner than expected. You can wait in his room if you want to.”

You heard everything she said crystal clear. You even went so far as to repeat it in your head. Fractured ribs and concussion, ouchie but at least there wasn’t any internal damage that always sounded so life-threatening. This should be great news, but why did it sound so suspicious to you?

“Really? You are sure, doctor?” you asked, “He didn’t like…lost his eyesight or paralyzed or… I don’t know, cancer? Amnesia?”

“This is a car crash, I don’t think it will cause him cancer,” she replied calmly. If she was annoyed at your stupid questions, she was trained well not to show it on her face. “And no, we did all the scans. There is nothing else, I assure you.”

“But I swear I saw blood back then, what does that mean?”

“He scraped his forehead when he fell. We did sutures on the wound, which is going to leave him a scar but we can try to minimize it as best as we can,” she said.

Huh, bummer. Maybe I should order another car crash.

Yeah, now wasn’t the time. My apologies.

You thanked the doctor quickly then, wanting to do nothing more than to see him. But before you could leave, she held you back and shifted through her pocket for something she intended to give you.

"The paramedic stopped me and told me to give this back to Mr.Lee when you guys went in, but I assume it is yours?” she said as she pulled out a dark blue velvet box and handed it to you.

It was a ring box, with your ring stored securely in it. You felt a rush of tears piling at your eyes again but you held them down and nodded. “Yeah, well, let’s hope it’s still for me.”

“Pretty sure it will. He wouldn’t buy you a ring if he didn’t care enough to jump in front of a car for you.” She shrugged. “His room is right around the corner, you can ask the nurses around.”

You bid her goodbye then, watching her rush away as her pager beeped. Then you returned your attention to the ring. You took it out of the box and slipped it on, admiring the way it still fits perfectly around your finger. You became his and you would always be from now on; wearing the ring is an act of taking a physical vow. Clasping the box shut, you put it in your pocket carefully before heading to where the doctor pointed you.

This was painstakingly familiar, Minho thought as he opened his eyes once again to welcome the flood of nausea and ugly ceiling lights. He hasn’t been in the hospital for a long time but he could tell he was in one from the saturated smell of alcohol and the overall sickly atmosphere. Shutting his eyes immediately after waking up, he groaned hoarsely as he recalled what events led up to this moment and realized he would have to be bedridden once more.

What a shame, you would have to take care of him again—hey, hold on a second! Where were you?

Minho snapped his eyes open, panic overwhelming the revolting weight laid atop of his body and brain. He did push you out of the way, right? He remembered he did, but he couldn’t be sure if you both were lucky enough to not have a second careless driver grace the crossroad. Or what if you bumped your head too hard on the ground and got a bad concussion? Or what if he didn’t push you far away enough for the car not to hit you?

He turned his head over to the door, wanting to call for a nurse and ask them millions of unprepared questions, but he stopped in his tracks abruptly when his gaze shivered downwards and he found you sleeping with your head on the edge of the bed. He hadn’t even registered the feeling of his hand being held by yours, the pulse oximeter and the IV on his left arm had taken away most of his sense of touch.

Calming down, Minho relaxed against the pillows and exhaled in relief. He would much rather have you here and sleeping in an uncomfortable position than laying on a bed with a heart monitor beeping next to your bed. Lowering his head so he could look at you, he softened at the way your cheek was squeezed against your forearm and the fading redness visible under your once tearful eyes. Oh, how he longed to reach out and touch you right now, the desire was immeasurable.

His mellow eyes trailed over to your hand, the one laying on the side of his legs, and he frowned slightly at the heavy white gauze wrapped around your lower palm. Getting a scrape when he pushed you away like that is likely inevitable; it got the job done, thankfully, he hoped it didn’t hurt you too much. He was promoted to move his hand when he saw yours, the one you had your own pinned down on the bed softly, and it was then when he felt the roughness of the gauze rubbing against his skin as well.

With a grimace, he looked over to where your hands were stacked on top of each other, and he held his breath when he finally noticed the shining diamond sitting prettily on your finger.

You put the ring back on.

The box must have flown out of his pocket when he got hit. He had been taking it with him everywhere recently just in case the perfect timing to give it back to you turns out to be a place where he couldn’t have access to it immediately. Besides, holding the box in his hand had always reminded him of you, and he liked being reminded of you from time to time throughout the day.

It made him feel less jittery, less annoyed at the general things, and it got him excited to return home at the end of the day.

Minho couldn’t think about anything else at the moment; all that flooded his mind was how much more fulfilling it was to see the ring on your finger rather than in the box, how things should have been this way all along, and what it all meant now that you’ve worn it back.

Forgiveness for his aloofness in the past, a firm acceptance of this marriage, and that he has become someone who can be loved by you.

His shaky eyes were filled with droplets, creating a glassy sight in his already glittery eyes. Feeling you stir on your spot, he slowly moved his head up so he could watch you wake from your slumber. Your grogginess went away as soon as you met eyes with him, and instead of an excited squeal or a surprised gasp, the only thing that glossed over you was an immense relief.

Looking at you, Minho breathed out a quiet laugh, one that even you couldn’t hear. He felt your hand around him still, but your grip more secure now. In an attempt to chase the tears away from your eyes, he joked, “Stop frowning. Your face is gonna get stuck.”

“I’m glad you still remember that,” you laughed, lightly shoving his leg as your voice echoed the room. He gave you a knowing hum as if telling you it would be impossible for him to ever forget the unfunny jokes you liked to tell around the house so much, they were practically engraved in his mind.

Sitting up straighter now, your entire demeanor became gentler. Your senses less alert, your mouth quirked into a permanent smirk, and your fluffy gaze paying a constant focus on Minho. 

“You haven’t forgotten me, have you?” you asked slowly, propping yourself up on your intertwined hands and smiling brightly up at him.

“No,” he replied.

“Who am I?”

“You are [Name]. You have bad humor, you forced pizza down my throat once, and you made me like soap opera,” he said, finding his voice back as more words gradually left his lips. And then he paused for a moment, a dramatic moment where he eyed you lovingly, watching as your brows raised in anticipation. “And I think I might be your husband.”

A joyous sob came in the form of giggle and Minho whined at the strands of tears that danced down your cheeks. He reached out to you, wanting to wipe your tears away for you, but you stopped him and told him not to move. Instead, you got up from the chair and scooted closer to the edge of the bed so you two could be closer at face level.

You slipped your arm under this head and the other reached to cup his jaw. You kissed his forehead, once and twice, then you pulled away just enough for you to look at him fully. Ah, you were so filled to the brim with affection for him; it was so new to you but so real the same time that you were not afraid of diving headfirst into it.

“I think you are my husband,” you whispered with a small nod.

He smiled. “Thank you for having me again.”

You gave him a smile before leaning down to kiss him again. This time you didn’t stop at his forehead. Your soft lips trailed down his eyes, his nose, his cupid’s bow, and before you could kiss him on the lips as you had always wished, you pulled away with a puff of nervous breath. You stared into his eyes, feeling the same longing in the way his hand found your wrist and he held onto you.

What are you waiting for? For permission? For him to get better? Go on, kiss him.

You two will be fine, you won’t hurt each other.

Pressing your lips against his tentatively, you felt a rush of adrenaline racing around your lungs. It made you feel hypersensitive, like a supernatural who could hear and see and feel beyond the human spectrum—the forced nudge of your noses, the beating in your ears, the softness of his lips, your quickened breathes, his soft locks flowing between your fingers, his grip on your wrists tightening to keep you with him.

It was all so overwhelming, the intimacy and the desperation. The emotions came in tiny waves, similar to the way the ocean feels when you stepped your feet on the shore. It drowns you out, it lets you breathe, it drowns you out again. You kiss, you breathe, and you kiss him again. No matter how many times the cycle continues, no matter how many times the seawater brushes past your skin, you get surprised by it and you keep yearning for more.

Your heart was hanging by a thread, any minute now it would leave your chest and land itself straight into Minho’s palms.

Hesitantly pulling away, you kept your mouths close enough for him to still feel you against his lips. He leaned in a little, breathing out a whine that made you realize your heart was already in his hands long ago. Swallowing down a breath, you whispered, “Do you remember, that I love you?”

He nodded, his lashes fluttering as he glanced down at your lips again and back up at your eyes, “I will now.”

Minho’s heart was yours too, long ago, and you’ve learned that.

You jolted awake in the middle of the night. Heavy breaths left your lips as you sat up against the arm of the couch. Your heart was beating quickly like you had just run a mile around the track field.

It was nothing like the way you used to be yanked out of sleep. It wasn’t like your head hitting against your desk in a boring lecture, or when you brutally died in a bad dream. This one was different. You were not falling asleep and you weren’t dreaming. It was different in a way that all you saw during your ‘consciousness’ was blackness, paired with a familiar voice you never thought you would hear again.

“Mom?” you whispered as you quickly scanned your surroundings, looking for the sight of your mother.

But you were still in the hospital room. You were sitting on the couch located at the corner of the room, with your phone and leftover takeaway food resting on top of the small table before you. The moon has gone up and the sky has turned darker than night, you glanced over and found Minho sleeping on the bed as he should.

You were back in where you were supposed to be, but your mother’s voice felt genuinely real during your supposed dream. Sitting up straighter and putting your feet down on the ground, you ran your hands through your hair to force yourself into concentration. Why did you jolt awake at your mother’s voice? There should be no reason for you to find her a threat unless you felt like you were being pulled out of this world.

Like you were falling, like you were falling out of this place, like you were leaving this world and back to reality.

“Oh god,” you gasped as you snapped your head up, your eyes wide.

Great, you were finally piecing the puzzle together, [Name]. I’m glad. 

You have exhausted your one near-death experience when you almost got hit by a car yesterday. If Minho hadn’t pushed you to the side and you got hit then things would have been different; you’d be hit by the car, got sent to a hospital to get fixed, and nothing would have happened. Alas, Minho did push you out of the way, and now you have reached the limit, which was only one. If you remember clearly, the way you arrived to this world was by waking, so when you return home, you would find yourself waking up as well. 

Except this time, you would be alone, and Minho never existed.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you repeated under your breath, biting your nails in an attempt to ease out the spiraling anxiety permanent in your head. It was all hitting you too quickly—the near-death theory, the memories you have of your real life, or the lack thereof, feeling like you were being pulled out of your own body, going back to reality, leaving Minho here.

I reckon this would be better for you, actually. The anxiety keeps you awake, and the pacing around keeps you active and forces your eyes open. It would be sooner or later, though, when you find yourself dozing off due to the inability to stay awake any longer. That’s when things get bad for you because as soon as you fall asleep, you will wake up in a whole different place. A familiar place, but different, nonetheless. 

Oh, but how could this be? You have just worn the ring, you two have just kissed for the first time. You couldn’t fathom the idea of being separated from Minho and you didn’t want to leave him yet! You never want to leave him ever! There was still so much for you two to do! You needed more time. You both needed more time!

“[Name]?”

“Huh–oh, hey, Minho.” You moved over to him with a smile. “Did I wake you?”

He could see the panic in your eyes and he frowned. “Are you okay? You look tired. Maybe you should get some sleep–”

“Oh, I–” Your bottom lips quivered.

How long would you be able to hide it before he finds out? How long could you stay awake and act normal for? How would you be able to explain why you always look so exhausted? Minho should know the truth, he deserved to know that you have been hiding something important from him the whole time. Besides, it would be such a shame if you leave him unprepared for your departure. He’s the one who has to remember, after all. 

“I’m not leaving!”

Oh, yell at me, why don’t you?

“Hey,” Minho grabbed a hold of your hand, his brows furrowed up at you, “what is going on?”

You stayed still to pull yourself together for a few seconds, breathing slowly, and then you looked back at him. “I have something to tell you.”

He could sense the solemnity in your voice and it terrified him. You had shown him a large range of your emotions before, from playful to angry to loving, but he has never seen you look so helpless. Tugging at your hand, he kissed your knuckles softly and nodded. “What is it?”

And you told him everything, struggling to make your story coherent despite only having the absolute truth escaping your lips. You told him from the very moment when you found yourself waking up next to him, and then when you were still figuring out what to do with ‘your’ past broken relationship, to adapting quickly and blending into this world. Everything up until this point, when you were so close to forgetting where you came from only to have reality force itself back into your head again.

It was taking Minho a long time to comprehend all the information thrown at him. When it seemed like he was finally done, he moved his eyes over to you and he tilted his head with a sigh. “That is a very deliberate joke.”

Right, you should have anticipated a reaction like that. It would be too easy if he brought it immediately. You pulled a face. “It’s not a joke, Minho.”

“Oh, so you are trying to tell me you aren’t from this universe and you aren’t even who you are before you came here?” he said, confusion evident on his tired face and his voice rising as he went on. “You are basically suggesting parallel universes exist?”

“No–I mean, yeah? It could be true?” You shrugged, and then you shook your head. “The point is–I can feel myself leaving this place and I am pretty sure as soon as I fall asleep, my time will be up. I just felt like I should tell you because you deserve to know.”

Despite how serious you sounded throughout your entire explanation, he just couldn’t bring himself to take you seriously. It was too absurd, the whole concept of waking up in another place. Sure, you did suddenly change overnight and you did feel much different than you did before, and there had been certain very subtle hints that could back your point up, but it was not enough for Minho to believe in what you just told him.

“You should go to sleep, [Name]. You’ve been really tired,” he said again, trying to persuade you into going back to bed.

Disappointment flashed before your eyes. Your shoulders slumped in defeat as you looked away, unsure what else you could do to convince him. The only thing you were sure about was that you absolutely could not fall asleep, no matter how tired you were. You planned to hang on for as long as you could, and hopefully, Minho would come around and believe you by then.

“I am just gonna go take a walk and come back,” you said, smiling faintly. “You should go back to sleep though.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “You can sleep with me on the bed if you want. I wouldn’t mind.”

“You know I can’t,“ you said. Leaning down to kiss his forehead, you moved away from the bed slowly. “Go to bed. I’ll wake you up with breakfast tomorrow morning.”

You closed the door, leaving him alone in the darkroom. Minho pouted, he was thinking too much to be able to just fall asleep now. The fact that he couldn’t just sleep sort of gave him a sense that he was leaning towards believing it and he was just in the stage of denial. If he really thought it was a joke then he should have no problem brushing it off, right?

He leaned back against the pillow, his fingers grasping at the air and his head filled.

Would you really leave? Just like that? More importantly, would he be able to tell if you left?

"Did you sleep?”

“They did not,” Changbin replied casually as he slammed a plastic bag on top of the table. Leaning down and proceeding to take out the takeaway food, he handed you a small box of food and looked up at Minho again. “They were up the whole night.”

“Did you seriously stay up the whole night?” Minho asked, brows furrowed at the unexpected visit by Changbin. He wanted to ask why he decided to tag along with you, but he figured it was much more important to know what happened with you last night.

“I did,” you sighed, shoving the chicken into your mouth and moaning at its delicious taste.

After realizing it would be almost impossible for you to stay awake on your own, which was such bullshit because you swore you used to have the ability to pull all-nighters like it was nothing, you ended up calling your last resort—Seo Changbin. Feeling bad that you had to wake him up in the middle of the night, you gave him the same explanation you gave Minho, and like your husband, he was extremely reluctant to accept it.

But you weren’t sleeping at all. And while Changbin had the suspicion that you were just taking this 'joke’ a little too far, he decided to humor you for the night and stayed up with you. And you spent the night over at his home, doing anything and everything to keep yourselves from falling asleep.

“Didn’t they tell you about the story?” Changbin asked, popping open a can of soda and looking at Minho as he drank. “I still don’t believe it but they were so hell-bent on not sleeping, I might just let them have it.”

“What–Changbin, I thought you believed me!” you whined, punching his behind and shoving him to the side.

“If I come over and tell you I’m not actually me and I came from another dimension, would you have believed me?” Changbin retorted, rubbing the spilled drink off his chin.

“I don’t have to because first of all, I met you for the first time at the shopping mall and I know nothing about you,” you pointed out. “Second of all, I am going through it right now. I am telling you, if I fall asleep, you will never see me again.”

“You don’t have proof that you aren’t you, [Name],” Minho chimed in, sighing in defeat as he slumped back against the bed.

Changbin pointed at you with wide eyes then, nodding in agreement. Sitting up from the couch, you turned your head to find Minho grimacing at you, and you heave a sigh. Proof. Where the hell would you find the proof to explain that you are who you are? Identity isn’t a tangible thing, no amount of paperwork can shape it for you.

“Look, I am telling the truth, alright? Or at least I am saying what I know,” you said as you grabbed a box and headed over to the bed. You handed the food to Minho, who refrained from throwing a mini tantrum the way he did before due to Changbin’s presence. Sitting down on the chair you had also pulled over, you sighed. “Who knows? Maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t want to take the risk and sleep.”

You looked at Minho, your brows raising slowly to display a vulnerably honest expression. No malice was hidden behind your eyes, your gaze only directed at him. “I don’t want to leave you, Minho.”

His munching halted. He could feel a hint of unease at the bottom of his stomach, possibly due to what you said and the soft way you said it. As if you were afraid, cautious. Lowering his hand, he inhaled, kind of wishing his inner voice would kick him in the head and give him a little nudge to the right path.

But really, what more was there left to say, Minho? [Name] has said all they could.

“You are not going leave me,” he muttered.

You shook your head. “Not consciously, no.”

Minho pursed his lips. Think carefully; for him to convince himself of what you said, he has to nitpick the past and the present, like separating different colored peas with chopsticks.

Starting from the day you met him, you said you have no idea what his name is and you woke up in his bed even though he had this terrible rule of not sleeping together. That was one. Then you forgot about the marriage; you were surprised by the ring on your hand so much that you even asked him for the price. That was two. You went into his closet, even when you were banned from touching certain things that were his. That was three. These were all rules to be broken, but the old you never had the guts to do that. It didn’t make sense for the courage to suddenly appear.

Asking for a divorce and acting like you didn’t know it was arranged, forgetting that your parents were dead, completely unbothered by Yuna’s presence, suddenly knowing how to cook up a whole meal, eating lots of greasy food, profoundly cursing, being playful enough to give him nicknames and make bad jokes.

Aside from that, he could physically tell, now that he thought about it with a clearer head. You were less timid and much louder. Sure, you have your moments of tenderness, but overall you felt much more energized and much happier than before. It was a difference in your presence—you didn’t use to light up the room when you walk into one, but now all Minho could see was you whenever you come into his line of sight. And that was before he fell so in love with you.

The pieces were adding up to an unbelievable story. 

Minho looked up at Changbin, his gaze hardened. “Can you leave us alone for a moment?”

You widened your eyes at his troubled look, then you turned around and urged your best friend away as well, promising to find him later when your private talk ends. Changbin rolled his eyes and unwillingly left, and then it was finally just you and him.

Minho started without waiting. “Let me recap everything. You came here not knowing who I am or what this place is?”

“Yes,” you nodded, “does this mean you believe me now?”

“Wait–why didn’t you tell me before then?” he asked.

“I thought I would leave soon and return to where I came from. I didn’t expect to stay so long,” you said. “Also, drama taught me it is better to keep my identity hidden.”

Minho rolled his eyes. “So, you suspect that the way for you to go back is through a near-death experience?”

“And falling asleep later,” you hummed. “This one I learned out of instinct, but I’m sure it’s happened before on some show.”

Minho scoffed, “You can’t trust dramas all the time. They’re made up.”

“Yeah, but this feels too much like one for me to ignore it! I mean, look at this!” You pointed at him, smiling bitterly. “Look at you! I would have never been able to snatch a guy like you if I was back in my world. I was a huge loner. All I did was work and have fleeting crushes.”

He watched as you lowered your arm, your smile dimming significantly. “Honestly, I don’t even know if you love me or who used to be me.” You shrugged, not looking at him. “I am a new person to you now, right?”

Minho licked his lower lip. That problem has never crossed his mind before since it was so obvious that he loved you. His affection was never there, it wasn’t affection for you before. But then he started developing feelings of his own for you, steaming from a threatening turn where he might lose the care and obedience he was used to receiving. He just used to like being loved by 'you’, now he liked loving you; he liked the mutual feelings you two shared.

If all were true, then there was a whole world behind you he’s never known. You previous life, your friends, your fleeting crushes.

“Come here,” he said, patting the spot next to him.

You stood up from the chair and carefully climbed onto the spot next to him. You back hit against the side rail, preventing you from falling off, while Minho pushed his hand against your waist to keep you close to him. You leaned your head against his shoulder, a sigh leaving your lips quietly.

“You know, I thought you were funny, back when you first came here,” he said. “A little infuriating, yes, but amusing nonetheless.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” you commented, giggling when he cleared his throat and nudged the top of your head with his jaw.

“You could have totally snatched me up even if we are not in this setting,” he said. “You aren’t like other people. You treat me differently.”

Ah, and the iconic line finally decided to make its appearance. I was hoping it’d at least happen once for you to hear it because you would only be able to hear it from Minho’s mouth.

“What do you mean different? I treat you the same way everyone treats you!” you said, suppressing a chuckle. You weren’t sure if that line had boosted your ego but it sure did make you feel quite special, as cliché as it was, but honestly? As a society, we should all establish that clichés don’t matter.

“No, you were so casual and honest. I think you are the only person who has given me nicknames aside from my old friends back in high school.” He nodded with a shaky laugh. He patted your waist in a beckoning motion, seeming excited. “And you’re even more different than others now because you are the only person I love, in that special kind of way.”

“What are you, five? Special kind of way–that’s lame!” you exclaimed, laughter escaping in between. When you quieted down, you pressed yourself closer to him and looked up.

He only glanced down when he felt your lips at the side of his jaw. And he kissed you then, leaning his head down eagerly to capture your lips. You were careful with moving around, your hand going up to stop at the nape of his neck, rubbing comfortingly as your mouths danced with each other sensually.

This could never be enough. Minho wanted more than this, he thought as he tugged you closer to him, feeling your chest against his side. This could never be enough. He wanted to do more than kissing you in a hospital bed. He wanted to kiss you under the moon, to kiss you at home, to kiss you during a spontaneous snack run at midnight. He wanted to eat junk food and get emotional about fictional characters with you; he wanted to see you read books while he worked on the side.

Minho wants you with him, always.

You pulled away, gasping a little at how teary his eyes had suddenly become. You didn’t need to ask why. You could already tell. “Do you believe me now?”

“I can’t. I don’t want to.” Minho let out a shaky breath. “If I do then I will have to accept the fact that you might leave me soon.”

A sobbing noise spiked from the back of your throat as you reached up to peck his lips. “I will try my best to stay awake for as long as I can, Minho.”

He nodded, even though the fact alone broke him, the fact that you two have to settle for 'as long as you can.’

You jolted awake again, this time in Minho’s workroom with a new book held loose in your hands.

You kept the lights on for the sake of having an awake atmosphere even though you knew very well that would do nothing to help your exhaustion. Looking up from the couch, you found it hard to just squint at the clock hanging above your head, but you saw that it was long past midnight already.

You groaned, throwing your head back against the couch as you kicked your legs in frustration. You were officially three days in, all three days you went without a lick of sleep. And you put in lots and lots of effort to accomplish that, such as eating, doing yoga, shopping, scrolling the internet, and indulging yourself in many new shows filled with more than seven seasons of emotions.

It was painful. Your body felt heavy and your eye bags were probably getting bigger as you went on. Your mind was slow, you zone out too much and you kept dozing off. The only thing keeping you from falling into slumber was the sickening feeling of you astral projecting out of this place.

You didn’t want to cry though. Not only would it make you feel even more exhausted, but it would also make you feel weak, and you didn’t want to feel pathetic that way if you were doing this so you could stay with the love of your life.

Huffing out a groan, you got off the couch and left the room. You were much more familiar with the house by now, you could practically walk anywhere with your eyes closed as long as you knew where you started. You walked down the hallway and stopped abruptly before a pair of doors.

Minho’s closet was as you remembered it was. Black and white, very minimalistic, with clothing racks lining up against the wall. One thing has changed, though, he has opened up a space for clothes you got him from time to time. The ones you thought he would look good in and he occasionally wears around in the house when he didn’t need to be in formal attire.

You flipped through the clothes, remembering where each one of them came from with a smile. It was quite funny as well, to see how the clothes gradually grew to be more accurate in his size with the more you brought.

Pulling a sweater off the rack, you admired the soft material by kneading it between your fingers, then you hugged it close to your chest. You brought the fabric close to your face, inhaling the warm scent you’ve gotten used to smelling on your own clothes as well.

You never tried to look into what detergent the housekeeper used to wash your clothes, but you always thought it had an artificial smell of some type of flower you have never smelt the actual scent of before. It stopped mattering now that you have gotten so accustomed to the smell. It just has the scent of a home, and home is Minho for you.

You inhaled deeply and exhaled out to control your quickened breathing. A sob threatened to break out but you muffled it with his sweater, clinging onto it like it was your life-line.

It has been so difficult for you. Staying awake beyond your limit and trying to smile with everyone else; you couldn’t even tell Minho how you felt when he asked if you were okay because a part of you dreaded that he’d let you go. You felt alone, worrying and fearing for the day you would leave this place.

Standing in his closet and having his scent so close to you pushed you past the breaking point. All you knew was that you wanted to stay with Minho, and knowing how sleep would be inevitable made you cry.

The past three days have only been about that. You couldn’t afford to think about anything else.

You stood there alone and sobbed for as long as your body allowed. When you were done, you dropped the sweater on the rack and took off your own just so you would wear it.

It felt warm, big and warm, just like Minho.

You felt another sob bubbling up.

Minho could tell you have been crying when you arrived to visit him for the night.

It has become increasingly difficult for him not to notice how worn out you were, not to mention having to neglect it and pretend as if nothing was happening. Although you were the one who was so determined to keep yourself in this place, and of course, he too wanted you to stay here, he couldn’t help the gruesome guilt that rips through his veins whenever he sees that defeated state of yours.

You were dozing off on the couch again. He could somehow feel it whenever you’ve got your eyes closed, it was like a tingly sense that shoots down his spine. Even then, he always looks over to check if you are, and you were this time, your chin squished against the base of your palm with your elbow propped up against the armrest of the couch. You were dozing and waking, an indefinite cycle that would only stop until you reach the point of insanity, he supposed.

When this first happened, when he first saw you with your eyes closed and unresponsive, he used to have this knot in his stomach that would tighten harshly in a way that makes him hallucinate pain. The fear used to make him want to throw up, it used to make his face go red and his fist curl until the nails dig deep into his skin. It feigns an anxiety attack for him, and God knows how to properly handle those.

“[Name]!” he repeatedly called for you, feeling the knot inside of him release its chokehold slowly the longer he has to call for you. But you woke up eventually, your body falling to the side and the sudden impact yanking you out to sleepiness.

You looked around and heaved a sigh, whether it was a relieved one was uncertain to everyone, including you. Turning over to look at Minho, you tilted your head and asked, “Hey, what’s up?”

Your posture was terrible, like usual but much worse now that your shoulders were hunched all over and your neck cranked in longing to take a decent break. Your body was fidgety, a habit you picked up to keep yourself active in movement so you wouldn’t fall asleep. The dark circles under your eyes were starting to get more visible than the smile Minho had always paid more attention, and there was no light in your eyes, just a pit of shadowy doom.

Maybe you were trying your best, but you couldn’t look at him like you love him anymore; your eyes physically could not manifest the affection you felt.

This was his fault. Maybe it wasn’t, you certainly would never blame him for this, but Minho still felt like he was the one putting you through all of this. And he hated seeing you so out of place because you haven’t slept in days, and for what? To get a few more days with him? Honest to God, your mind was barely with him these days anyway.

Minho pursed his lips into a thin line, watching as you struggled to keep your eyes open. And he shook his head. “You should go to sleep. This is killing you.”

You were quick to turn down his suggestion. “No.”

“Go to sleep.”

“I don’t want to,” you said. “I don’t want to go.”

“Well, you are going to have to go either way so why not make that earlier?” he asked, raising his voice, causing your defenses to build up quickly.

You stood up from your seat, your eyes wide in a glare for the first time in days. “What is your problem, Minho? Do you want me to leave so bad?”

“I don’t–“ he breathed out a sigh, closing his eyes to keep his temper low now that yours have been shorter than usual. “I don’t want you to leave. If I get to choose, I will always choose to have you stay here with me, but look at yourself!”

You raised a brow. “What?”

“You’re tired, you are so tired. You have been crying, you eat slow, your temper is short, you barely react to anything anybody says. Even the nurse who came in to check up on me this afternoon asked if you are okay because you don’t look okay!” he exclaimed. Then, sucking in a breath as if gargling his words, he exhaled through a soft huff before he whispered, “I love you, [Name], so much. But not like this. Not when you are so miserable because of me.”

If his existence is causing you pain then he’d rather not have it. As selfish as he wanted to be, he would choose to let you go.

Your arms dropped to your side and you rolled your eyes up. You have told him the same thing before. God, you felt like one of those female leads who cry every single episode, it was so enraging. Everything you have sought to not become, you’ve become it.

Minho moved to the side on his bed, leaving you a spot, and he called out, “Come here.”

You looked back down at him, your sight blurred at the thought of what he meant to do. You were going to walk over, he would wrap you in his arms, and you would fall asleep to his warmth. He would still be here but you would be somewhere else. It would be quick, it would happen before you even know it.

“Come here, please?” he asked again, softly. “Let me hold you.”

You rubbed your eyes and moved over slowly. He helped you as you climbed onto the bed, snuggling up next to his side with your head laid on his shoulder and his arms securely around your torso. He squeezed your arm and breathed out a joking giggle, mentioning something about you getting chubbier and earning a hit on the chest in return.

His fingers shifted through your hair when you looked up at him, and he smiled down at you like nothing was going wrong. Eyeing his lips once, you didn’t hesitate to reach up for a long, loving kiss, one where your tears were mixed with the taste of his mouth.

When you pulled away, you said, “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be,” he said, shaking his head. “This is actually pretty funny. I am the one who got injured but here we are, crying over you leaving instead.”

You laughed silently, bringing him closer to you. Minho has steady breathing but his heart beat quickly. It rattled against your ears, reminding you that he was as nervous as you were about losing each other. Your senses were shutting down slowly, ready to go into rest when you finally gain the sleep your body has been screaming at you to get.

“I’m sleepy, Minho,” you muttered, adjusting your head.

“I know. You can sleep, it’s okay,” Minho hummed. “You can go. I’m gonna be fine.”

You licked your lower lip, the dryness giving you a sticky sensation. “Love them as much as you love me, alright?”

He couldn’t do that. But he wouldn’t tell you, he wanted you to go without any troubles lingering in your head. He wanted you to leave happily, or as happy as you could be.

Kissing your forehead, he felt your breathing ease up. His hand rubbed your back soothingly as he asked, “Will you remember that I love you?”

You didn’t answer.

Minho stirred uncomfortably in the single hospital bed. As his sense slowly returned to him, he tightened his grip on you, keeping you from falling off. It was nighttime outside, and he supposed a nurse dropped by and turned the lights off when he saw you both sleeping. He could barely remember what happened before he was knocked out.

You shifted slightly by him, head nuzzling against his chest before looking up to find the owner of the body you were cuddling.

“[Name]?” Minho called.

The person jolted from their place. Feet landing coldly on the floor, they fixed their hair and took a wide step away from the bed. “Minho! I’m sorry!” 

His heart dropped. There was his answer: he could tell.

Same face. Same body. Same voice. 

Not you.

Your eyes snapped open and you groaned at the pain oozing at your side. What the hell happened? You could see that you were back in your room, which was weird because the last time you checked, you were on your way to work. You remembered waking up late and rushing out of your apartment, and then everything simply went blank from there.

“Oh, you’re awake! I thought you died or something!”

You sat up on your bed and furrowed your brows at your brown-haired friend. Rubbing your eyes, you yawned and scanned your room, taking in its unfamiliarity with intense suspicion before you turned back to your smiley friend and asked, “Did you move my shit?”

“I just got here like five minutes ago after your mom called me,” he deadpanned. “I was cooking you chicken porridge! She said you blacked out and slept for three days straight, you sleepyhead!”

“Three days–Chan what?” You got off your bed and headed over to your desk where your phone was. You weren’t sure why you needed to check the time, it held no significance to how you were in deep trouble with your boss for ditching work for three days. “Why did no one wake me?”

He handed you a glass of water first, seeing how frantic you appeared right after waking up in the middle of the day. You received it—snatched it—and quickly gulped down the liquid, feeling a sense of relief rush through you when the water hit your throat.

“We tried but you were knocked out cold.” He shrugged. “If you are worried about work, don’t. I talked to our manager for you already. I even exaggerated the part where you almost got in a car crash and died so you needed time to recover from it.”

The water spilled from the glass when you choked in shock. Your brows furrowed harshly as you pulled the glass away, causing more water to flow out of the cup, and you yelled at Chan, “What? I almost got in a car crash?”

He gave you a slow laugh, more concerned than annoyed that you’ve made a mess and yelled at him in the past five seconds. “You almost got hit by a car the other day when you left for work. You were looking at your phone and not paying attention. I had to pull you away from the road! Did you forget all of that?”

You placed the glass of water down on your desk, rubbing your mouth with your forearm harshly. As you brought your hand closer to your mouth, a painful scratch eliciting a yelp from you. Moving your hand away from your face, your eyes trailed up your arm and they widened when you saw the diamond ring located on your fourth finger. You cursed out loud, gaining Chan’s attention, and when his eyes moved towards what you were looking, he too mirrored your confused look.

“What is this!” you asked, looking at him.

“What is what–woah! Did you drunk buy this?” he asked, moving closer to examine the ring on your hand. “You need to return it. You’re crazy. You can’t afford this!”

“I know I can’t afford this,” you exclaimed, glaring at him in defeat. “But I swear I don’t remember ever buying this! Did you see me wearing this when I almost got hit by a car?”

Chan paused for a moment to think. He hadn’t really noticed back then, he was too busy trying to keep your phone-obsessed ass from dying. But if you didn’t have it back then, there should be no way for you to have it now. You have been bedridden, you could not have possibly gotten drunk within the last couple of days, and you would never buy a ring like that when you were sober.

“Did you steal it from someone?” he suggested, feeling the wrath of your impatience as he stepped away from you in precaution. “Oh but you couldn’t–“ 

“No! I don’t know where this ring came from, Chan,” you exclaimed, showing him your hands and grimacing at how perfectly it fit around your finger. “Also, can’t you humor the idea that maybe someone proposed to me?”

“Someone with the money to buy that ring? Uh, no,” he said honestly, putting his hands on his hips in a comical way.

Brushing him off, you slumped back onto your bed with your arm covering your eye. “Whatever. I’ll find out where I got it from somehow.”

“Or you can sell it,” Chan suggested.

You chuckled at the thought. Imagine the amount of money you could get from selling that ring. You did not know about diamonds but you could tell when one looks expensive. Bringing your hand up above your face, you shifted your hand to observe the ring more carefully. A weird sense of comfort rushed through you, making you relax further into your mattress. Coming after the comfort was a very bad sense of nostalgia, one that makes your heart ache for something you couldn’t remember.

“Actually, maybe I’ll keep it,” you muttered, eyes hazy the more you stared at the ring. “I think I want to keep it.”

“Okay.” Chan shrugged at the side. Moving over to your desk, he grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “Are you gonna be okay? I need to go back to work. Lunch is over for me already.”

“Thank you,” you hummed from the bed, nodding. “I’ll come back to work as soon as I can.” 

“Before you get fired, at least.” He eyed you carefully. You laid motionless on your bed, completely out of it. He nudged your feet with his own to catch your attention. “Are you sure you’re fine?”

“I am fine, Chan.” You rolled your eyes. “Stop nagging.”

He scoffed, but ultimately his voice was soft when he spoke, “I just want to make sure you are okay, alright?”

The nostalgia hit like a rush this time and you held down a flinch. For some reason, Chan didn’t sound so much like him when he said that, but you couldn’t tell whose voice that was. When you turned your head to look at him, your gaze shifted in rapid sequences, like frames changing on a television screen. Chan’s silhouette shifted in blurry motion into a man of slightly smaller but more visibly muscular stature. You felt your body jolt in recognition. 

Recognition? Pause. This wasn’t supposed to happen. 

Let me rewind it. 

Chan scoffed, but ultimately his voice was soft when he spoke, “I just want to make sure you are okay.”

You sniffed away a potential sneeze, hearing Chan’s giggle from your ridiculous expression. Throwing your head back against your bed, you waved your hand at him. “Just go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” he said. “Call me if you need anything.”

You hummed loudly in response, not bothering to look up at him. When you heard the front door lock, you groaned out a frustrated sigh and turned to your side. It has been a weird couple of minutes; you almost got in a car crash but you forgot, you slept for three days and you had no idea, you got a diamond ring on your hand which you have no recollection of ever getting. 

You brought your hand up and frowned. The ring was heavy on your hand and it would most likely disrupt your sleep. But there was something else—the nostalgia that was lapping at your chest one wave after another. A feeling beyond your imagination, resting against your heart carefully yet it rattles you like nothing ever has.

“Where did you come from?” you whispered to the diamond ring sitting perfectly on your finger. 

You decided not to take it off.

Never in a million years did Minho think he’d end up relying on Changbin, but he has no other option due to knowing a shared secret. 

“How are you feeling?” Changbin asked after he plopped down on the study room couch. 

Scatters of paperwork piled on the table were deliberately placed messily to distract Minho from his worries. If his eyes were occupied, his mind may be too. Turning the chair, he eyed Changbin nonchalantly by the desk. “My spouse left me.”

“Not good. Noted!” Changbin exclaimed with a single clap of his hands. He ended up awkwardly rubbing them as they laid themselves on his thighs. 

Silence emerged, much like every other time they’ve hung out together. If he could call it anything different, Changbin would consider these moments more mandatory emotional check-ups than hanging out with good friends. Not only was Minho not a good friend, not even with such a golden opportunity, but Minho was never in the mood for anything anymore. In some ways, he has reverted to his grumpy personality, only this time he knew how to be nice about it. He learned it from you. 

“Do you think they’ll ever come back?” 

Changbin looked up from his fiddling thumbs. Minho’s thousand-yard stare burnt holes through the ceiling, but Changbin wasn’t sure if he was thinking about the particular question he voiced. He’s done his fair share of deep-diving about parallel universes and whatnot. Understanding the theories was one thing; accepting that it has been carried out was another. It still felt impossible. Changbin was holding onto the fact that you have never jumped anywhere, and it was a figment of your imagination that you somehow could portray excellently. 

A character change only takes a good performer or someone fully convinced they’re somebody else. 

The light glimmered as if to add glamour to the rigid atmosphere. Changbin let his neck rest on the back of the couch, and he shrugged. “If they do, you’ll be the first person they look for.”

Light returned to Minho’s eyes. He dreamt about that day. He wondered how it would go. Perhaps seamlessly as the day you first arrived. There won’t be chances of him missing your presence; not only would you make yourself seen, but he was more than sure he would know. A radar within himself would begin blaring sirens—he would just know if you were around again. And it would be a typical day. You would be at home, and he would return home. You would have dinner, you would go to bed together. 

It would finally be a normal day when you come back. 

For now, the glimmer in his eyes fades.

Weeks have passed with the same weight on your shoulders. You have come around to learn how to ignore it. You have learned to distract yourself from it. You work, hang out with people, and entertain yourself with the media. But even then, the grave mistake you made to not take that promise ring off your finger kept reminding you of the shaking sentiment that often shines at the end of the day.

You have looked through different online shops to find out where you could have gotten the ring from. It was a long stretch. You knew it would take ages to find the actual shop, but the promise of long-term confusion somehow assured you that you would have an excuse to keep it with you longer.

It has been weeks, though, and your hope was thinning. You could not find any matches, even after you personally headed over to the shops and asked the staff to take a closer look. You even went so far as to search for the lesser-known brands that would still make rings with diamonds as sparkly and extravagant as the one you got. Nothing, it was like the ring was custom-made, and that made you feel worse about having it.

It must have been really important to the owner, you reckon. It should not be in your hands.

“I feel bad for keeping it,” you spoke to the phone, where Chan sighed on the other side, most likely from irritation. The ring was all you talked about these weeks, aside from occasional work problems and drunken confessions you weren’t afraid to make to him.

“Then sell it.”

“But I don’t want to sell it.”

“Then what do you want to do? I keep giving you suggestions, and you keep shooting me down,” he complained with a helpless whine.

“I want you to tell me what to do!” you exclaimed.

“I say sell it,” he said.

“I don’t want to sell it.”

“I’m hanging up. I can’t take this abuse anymore,” Chan threatened with a yell of frustration. You could imagine him leaning against his chair and pushing it away from his desk, his eyes squinted into moon-shaped smiles, and his nose scrunched up in defeat.

“It’s just… this stupid ring is giving me weird vibes!” You stopped before the road and glanced down at the ring. “I feel sad but also happy when I look at it! Like some sort of deja vu!”

“It’s deja vu. Everyone feels like once in a while,” he said. “Maybe it’s not as serious as you think it is.”

You frowned. Chan was no help at all. From your peripheral vision, you could see that people had started to cross the street, so you followed suit quickly, intending to not block the road and be yelled at by some caffeine-deprived stranger who hadn’t gotten a lick of sleep yet.

“Woah! Hey! Watch the road!”

You snapped your head up. Your eyes first caught the red traffic light, and you gasped. You swore you saw someone move next to you; you should have looked before crossing the road. Turning around and planning to head back to the pedestrian street as it was a shorter distance than moving across the road thoroughly, you could only take one step before honks blared at your ears.

A stranger reached their hand out to grab a fistful of your shirt so they could yank you back to safety. The pull was strong and panicky, like back when you were younger, how your mother would smack you after you did something wrong, but much harder than that. Your gaze wobbled when your head hit a slight whiplash at the force, the sky welcoming your view. Tears unnaturally welled in your eyes as your hands waited for the impact of the ground. 

“No,” you whispered, the blur of a car crash disappearing from your memories. “Minho–“

Minho? Again? Hold on. Let me rewind again. 

“Woah! Hey! Watch the road!”

You snapped your head up. Your eyes first caught the red traffic light, and you gasped. You swore you saw someone move next to you; you should have looked before crossing the road. Turning around and planning to head back to the pedestrian street, as it was a shorter distance than moving across the road thoroughly, you could only take one step before the sight of incoming cars made you freeze. 

A stranger reached their hand out to—

No, [Name]! Wrong! Nothing happens to you! How did you manage to get yourself stuck in a near-death situation twice in a row? What is this, some kind of manifestation theory? Don’t joke around. Let me rewind!

“Woah! Hey! Watch the road!”

You jumped out of the way with a scream, missing the car by a few inches. It scraped past you, causing your body to fall back. Instead of catching yourself in the slow fall, you let your body flail about in the air as more cars slowly closed the distance between themselves and you. Pedestrians standing on the road couldn’t do anything out of sheer intimidation, born from the cars speeding toward you. You looked toward where the honking came from.

I can’t keep doing this. It’s your muscle memory, isn’t it? Damn biology. I really–let me rewind. 

“It’s deja vu. Everyone feels like once in a while. Maybe it’s not as serious as you think it is,” Chan said. “Look, you’ve been thinking about this too much. How about we go get a drink tonight? 

“I don’t know, Chan,” you muttered with a sigh. “I’ve been feeling really depressed lately.”

“I’m surprised you don’t think I can tell,” he said. “How about this–I’ll buy some drinks, and we’ll hang out at yours. Beats heading outside, right?”

You closed your eyes. That could work. One of the biggest reasons the outside was so unappealing was that you had to step foot into it. Even now, with the sun shining down on your head, you’re quickening your pace so you can go home. If Chan was willing to go through the trouble of paying for drinks and hauling them to your apartment, you’ve got no complaints. It might be an excellent way to forget about this whole deja vu situation, too.

“Deal,” you confirmed with a soft smile. “I’ll see you tonight, then?”

Chan giggled from the other side, but he didn’t say anything. 

Wait, why didn’t he say anything?

“Woah! Hey! Watch the road!”

What? What happened? Why is this sequence repeating itself? I scratched that off the document!

You snapped your head up from looking at the ground. Your eyes first caught the red traffic light, and you gasped. You swore you saw someone move next to you—stop! Pause! Pause!—Should have looked before crossing the road. Turning around and planning to head back to the pedestrian street as it was a shorter distance than moving across the road entirely, you could only take one step before honks blared at your ears—why are you trying to kill yourself? Can’t you just let me continue with this, [Name]? 

You could see the cars coming, but your feet wouldn’t move. Your eyes stared through the danger into a beacon laid far away, the illusion of a man’s face you should have forgotten. His name echoed silently through your mind, but his warmth remained on your body, in the shape of your arms and the weight on your finger. 

I cannot… I do not have the power to erase what your body—your heart—chooses to remember, only that of your mind. If your first instinct is to go home and return to Lee Minho, I’m afraid I have no power to stop you besides rewinding time and hoping for a change. 

Let me… let me rewind. 

May you two have a joyous reunion… and… thank you for this lesson. 

“Woah! Hey! Watch the road!”

You snapped your head up. Your eyes first caught the red traffic light, and you gasped. You swore you saw someone move next to you; you should have looked before crossing the road. Turning around and planning to head back to the pedestrian street, as it was a shorter distance than moving across the road, you could only take one step before honks blared at your ears. Scared, your knees gave away, and you fell backward.

The screams of others and the urgent car honks were blocked out from your ears. You turned your head to the side and saw a truck running down the road towards you. This one would kill you, you would close your eyes, and you would leave this place. Your lips quirked uncontrollably. 

You would go back to him.

The mesh curtains stayed the same, useless against the sun but pretty with it. The bedsheet was as you felt it the first time, soft and silky yet thick and warm, the ones that make you sleep like you were in a goddamn coma. And Minho was the same as you last remembered seeing him—fluttery lashes, soft brown locks, and naturally pouty lips.

You remembered. 

You pursed your lips into a tight smile to keep a laughing sob from bubbling up your throat. Staring at him, you realize he made you feel the same as you last remembered, and immeasurable affection pulled at your fingertips, longing for a touch of his gentle skin and to feel him close to you. And you did, unapologetically, caressed his face with the back of your fingers.

Perhaps it was a deliberate plan to wake him up, but you wouldn’t admit that to yourself.

Minho stirred in his sleep at the touch. His brows furrowed before he opened his eyes, and when he saw you, his frown only deepened. You (or, well, ‘you’) have never tried to attempt this before, nor has he ever asked for love from them. His mind was occupied by somebody else, someone he thought would never come back to him ever again. Feeling this, having his cheek tenderly stroked in the morning, was surprising and weird.

“Hey, Minho,” you whispered, pinching his cheek slightly.

A shiver so strong it felt like a lightning zap ran down his body. His eyes widened slowly in recognition. He would know. He would just know. Through looking at you, through the feeling of your skin, through the way you space out your words, through the way you control your tone, through the way his ears react to your voice, through everything. He would know. He would be the first to know. 

His eyes moved across your features. You looked the same as he had always seen you, before and after you left. But there was one defining difference he could make: the ring on your hand wasn’t there before. You had taken it with you after you left this place, and now it’s back. 

“[Name],” he croaked out, his hand reaching out to touch your shoulder, gripping it gently.

“I’m home.” You nodded with a smile. “Sorry, I forgot to tell you I’ll be late.”

The tears flow freely down his cheeks. It has been extremely difficult for him to revert to his usual lifestyle and pretend to be in love again. He had tried to bring himself to like ‘you,’ but it was useless. They simply felt different despite looking the same as you. 

He had missed your stupid jokes, the way you could come back home with bags of clothes he rarely has the chance to wear, and the food you cook. The little recurring moments he loved with you, he replayed them every night in the room and didn’t dare to allow himself to forget you.

You took the initiative and moved closer to him. Your palm was flat against his cheek now, and after you lovingly nudged the tip of your noses together, you leaned in to give him a long-awaited kiss. He melted against you, against your lips and your hand, with desperation in each curve of his mouth. He felt like he couldn’t let go. He knew he couldn’t let you go this time, never again.

Reluctantly pulling away, your dazed eyes stared right back into his. You touched his face again, smiling. Minho cupped your hand in his, pressing his forehead against yours with a light whisper, “Do you remember who I am?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

“Who am I?”

The sun shone from outside, casting a ray of warmth at an empty ring box located at the corner of the desk.

“You are Lee Minho,” you said, giving his lips a peck. “You are my husband.”

And you remembered that he told you he loves you, just as you love him.  

#stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #stray kids x oc #skz x y/n #skz x oc #skz x you #skz x reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader #lee know x you #minho imagines #lee know imagines #minho x reader #minho x you #lee know x y/n #lee know x reader #minho scenarios #lee know scenarios #minho x y/n

[strangestcase]

For the people that are going to do Dracula Daily this year:

One of the subplots that Dracula covers, and arguably the most important subplot, is one centered around a psychiatric patient confined to an asylum- it touches upon the way he sees the world, his relationship with his doctor, and how he relates to and perceives the villain VS the heroes, since for most of the plot he believes the villain to be good and strives to serve him.

Both the patient and the doctor characters (who are part of the main cast and very important to moving the plot foward in their own ways!) are portrayed as sympathetic victims to the main villain and mostly on the side of good, but in different ways, and, of course, the way they are written is informed by the beliefs of the time.

I won't spoil anything too important about it, just warn you that this subplot depicts Victorian Era ableism, which is... pretty extreme, and forms of medical abuse (specifically, psychiatric abuse) that still exist today!

This plotline involves:

-depictions of hallucinations, delusions, and irrational thinking

-medical malpractice: delusions being encouraged, patients being dehumanized, prolonged use of dangerous restraints

-unsanitary behavior (eating live animals)

-ableist attitudes from most of the hero characters

(other Dracula fans pls tell me if I've missed something)

What do I make of this? you ask. Well...

Do not excuse medical abuse, even if it's fictional. The doctor character is, for all his medical malpractice, depicted as a complex person that has some likeable traits and he undergoes a pretty sad arc relating to loss and trauma, like most of the heroes of this novel. This doesn't make him any less of an abuser, nor makes his patient any less of a victim!

Refrain from using ableist language or rethoric. The patient character, being written for a very old horror book, is often depicted as "unsettling" and his strange behavior is sometimes played for horror. This 1) doesn't make his situation any less deplorable 2) doesn't make him any less sympethetic and most importantly 3) doesnt give you a free pass to treat him as a scary horror monster. He's a victim of both the real monster of this story and the system he lives in.

Listen to psychotic fans. Research the history of Victorian asylums. Understand the historical context. Look at this subplot from a holistic perspective instead of treating it as a horror story within a horror story (although, it is a horror story, but not for the reasons some think it is!). Just don't be a dick to disabled people.

If any part of this subplot triggers or squicks you, you are not obligated to read it, just be aware that it exists and that it is important to avoid perpetuating ableist stereotypes, be they present in the original text or not. (Hell, you are not obligated to read any part of the book if you don't want to do so. Dracula Daily is supposed to be fun. Analyzing literature is supposed to be fun. Enjoying literature is supposed to be fun!)

For the love of God, don't get angry if some fans dislike the doctor character for what he's done and take the patients' side. This was an issue during the last Dracula Daily run. He's literally the victim in this relationship. I'm not saying you can't like or dislike either character but I have to reiterate: do not erase either character's contribution to the plot, do not demonize the patient character for being mentally ill in an "ugly" way and beliveing the villain is good, and don't woobiefy the doctor character because he said a funny thing once. Both are complex adult human beings so don't expect them to be caricatures.

Do not be afraid to call out ableist behavior from other fans, but also be careful to not overstep or talk over disabled fans, especially psychotic fans.

During the Dracula Daily run, some blogs will warn about the entries in which this subplot takes place, and what triggers apply for each one of them. If you need those warnings, don't be afraid to reach out for them!

Happy reading!

#dracula daily #dracula #dracula daily 2023

[chaestats]

Insecurity drabble w Hyunjin from SKZ!

Request by: anon

Warnings: mentions of ed!!!!!

Ask: "can you make like a drabble for hyunjin with a fem!s/o that has an ed pls? i got diagnosed a month ago, and lord there's literally no one in my life to help me 😨 so it'd be nice if you could do that"

A/n: before we get into it I'd like to say that I don't typically do this kind of content, but I am trying to expand my writings! thank you so much for requesting, love! I don't usually put a/n's but I really hope things get better. hope this helps!!!

Hyunjin, your boyfriend of six months, has been absent for a couple of weeks now. He's been incredibly busy with his new comeback and he appreciated so much how understanding you are. That's one of the reasons he loved you. For you.

You checked the clock, 23:48pm. You let a sigh of frustration as you sat at your shared apartment. Normally, at this time you'd be at bed, asleep. However this past month has been taking a toll on you, really. You never really had really good eating habits, per say but last month you were diagnosed with Ed. Of course, you never told your boyfriend. I mean, why would you want to stress him even more... he's already got so much to think about.

All you could bring yourself to eat today was an apple. And you felt so disgusted...just the thought of eating by itself scared you in a way? You didn't know exactly either, but if you could go for the rest of eternity without eating...you would.

You couldn't stop thinking about it. Just why, why, why did you have to eat this apple...? Why can't you stop thinking about it? Why can't you bring yourself to eat even if you're hungry? Why?

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a key at your front door. You quickly grabbed a tissue from the table and sat down on the couch attempting to brush away the tears that spilled just seconds ago.

"Love? You're still awake?" On any other day, the sound of your boyfriend's honey-like voice would have made butterflies run around in your stomach. But not today, not now. He couldn't see you like this.

"Y-yeah, I was just going to bed actually." You rushed out of the room, and in confusion Hyunjin put his jacket away and went into your shared bedroom just to find you laying down on the bed, with your back turned at him.

"Y/n? Can we...um talk for a minute?"

"Not now Hyun... I'm really tired"

"No Y/n. Now." At that he sat next to you on the bed just to see your puffy eyes, still visible in the dark.

"Baby don't tell me you've been crying??" He quickly touched your face looking at you filled with concern.

"No, I'm just tired, baby. And I'm sure you're too. Let's just talk tomorrow, please?"

"Y/n no. Look, you've been incredibly distant and uhm...I really don't know how to bring this up...but it has been on my mind since this morning... can you explain what this is?" He opened your drawer and took out doctor's note, that had written down a few drugs for...appetite stimulation? Is that what he thinks it is?

You looked at him in shock and snatched the paper away.

"Did you go through my stuff?"

"Baby it's not the time for this now. This is serious. I've seen how thin you've been getting. Just...tell me the truth Y/n."

You looked at him, tears spilling once again. Oh, how were you supposed to explain?

"What, no don't cry!Baby calm down... I'm here, yeah? Everything is alright. It's all alright, nothing that you say is impossible to overcome. Nothing."

"I-I got diagnosed with Ed. I know I should have told you and everything bu-"

You got cut off by Hyunjin taking your hands in his, making you stand up.

"Listen here. You're the most amazing thing to ever happen to me. And I-....I really don't want to lose you...not like this...." Tears threatened to spill as he continued "I can't ever let you treat yourself like this...you deserve better."

"Hyun... everything is just fine... I'm dealing with everything perfectly"

It was almost as if you didn't even believe yourself.

"No the fuck you're not! Please, baby. Promise me we'll do this together. That you won't do this all alone..."

"B-but your comeback and your fans and-"

"Y/n nothing will ever be as important as you are. Let me help you. Let me be there. I can't stand seeing you like this...baby please..."

"O-okay..."

You really didn't know what to say. How could you get so lucky? If he couldn't have gotten more perfect then sure he did just now.

He kissed you passionately as you felt his hands cradle up your waist. It was a small gesture, really. But you loved it so much. It showed how caring, how pure his love is.

"I'm here now. You won't ever have to go through this alone."

#skz fluff #skz imagines #skz reactions #skz smut #skz x reader #skz #straykids #stray kids #straykids angst #straykids imagines #straykids fluff #hyunjin #hyunjin imagines #straykids reactions #straykids hyunjin #skz au #skz angst #skz incorrect quotes #skz fic #skz requests #hyunjin reactions #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin angst #hwang hyunjin