#seriously hoping their victims heal from their fucking actions

[salirophiliac]

tw///// fuck vince mcmahon. seriously praying on his fucking downfall, and while we're at it fuck ric flair and chris jericho too

#fuck all of them #seriously hoping their victims heal from their fucking actions

[lenny-zaim-sucks]

Meanwhile he gets to heal and move on while I deal with the consequences of his actions forever. I’m tired of being told to leave it in the past, I can’t forget for a reason, it’s scarred me. He can treat it as no big deal because it was him doing all the lying and most of the cheating too. I cheated once in 2019 after finding out about his side chick. The cheater doesn’t like to be cheated on of course, he lapped that up to play victim.

I don’t know why I stayed after that, I know if I do that the relationship is over. I told him about it but he wanted to stay and I thought fine I’ll torture him but I ended up torturing myself because I still loved him and he just continued to lie and cheat for years, the whole time we were together. He never changed or listened. Even now he still lies. It’s a cruel and selfish thing to do. If it happened to him in the same way he wouldn’t be able to handle it. Though he says he could, that he’d rather a compulsive liar than someone who had sex during the talking stage lol fucking weirdo.

I really tried to cross my personal boundaries into friendship but there’s too much resentment. It’s the fact he wants to be friends after everything like it was nothing. He minimises it, there’s no compassion for the lasting effect it’s had, like I should just get over it because it’s that easy. How can I with him still in my presence? He says you only think of the bad things, not the good, well sorry your betrayal muddied all those happy memories. How can I forgive after that? How can things be normal?

Him snatching that lemonade from me and spilling it on me just gave me flashbacks of our toxic relationship and made me feel sick. To him the triggers are a joke, he’ll laugh and show me a character on his game that has vitiligo just like his sidechick as if it’s not a punch in the gut. When we were together I used to have nightmares of him cheating and wake up crying. Tell me that’s not a sign of ptsd? Even certain music is triggering.

I know why it’s not a big deal to him because marriage and wife are throwaway words to him that he’s mentioned to other women before. While I seriously considered marriage and introduced him to my mum as the first ever guy for that, he’s done this multiple times. It’s meaningless to him. He doesn’t understand how deep that betrayal went. I still choke up thinking about it. Any hopes of a wedding and a marriage with a man are sufficiently ruined. He destroyed me, my optimism and traumatised me. This shit broke the person I used to be. The trust issues I have now are deeply embedded, I think I’m bordering on misandry. It really fucks with the human psyche, it’s absolutely brutal. It was an assault on my wellbeing.

He’ll deny he’s an abuser but it was emotional abuse and completely obliterated me. His excuse is he had his own issues and was a coward. Those who go into relationships with low self worth do things like this. He had suffered from depression and he took me along for a depressing ride.

[piracytheorist]

sorry for the slight rant every now and again I think about the sheer madness of somepeople thinking that Ethan whilst activly being hunted by people wanting to kill him to pull out his therapist license (and 30+ years of experience because being a recent graduate just ain't going to cut it) and chair and convince his potential murderers to talk to him about their 100+ years of trauma like seriously being understanding only goes so far and I doubt anyone thought like this about fucking Lisa Trevor

I feel more sympathy and empathy about Lisa Trevor than I do all the Lords combined and any sympathy/ liking I had for the lords has been well and truly squashed by the extreme fans who want Ethan to be a therapist to people trying to kill him and the woobification of them all (at the demonisation of ethan and mia when I think about). Lisa like the lords was actively trying to hurt Chris and Jill they didn't stop to think about how they could help her because they couldn't she was so far gone at that point etc (seriously there is a achievement for killing Lisa which is simply "put the poor girl out of her misery"

Rant away! And you know what the problem is with the extreme stans? It's not that they confuse "The Lords were Miranda's victims and their behaviour stems from the abuse they underwent because of her" with "They deserved being understood and rescued by Ethan, a random dude who was just trying to save his daughter and they were attacking him for it" because it's their right to think what they want to think about the Lords. It's not even when they vent out on Ethan (and Mia, for some weird reason) cause again, to each their own, if they've connected to the Lords and they want to vent out on a fictional character (even when that character doesn't necessarily deserve it) through fic or whatever, he's still a fictional character and no harm no foul. It's when they act like it's canon!!!11! that Ethan is the worst person ever, or a villain, or even an idiot, for not going like "I understand you mean to kill me; however, I also understand what happened to you is the result of experimentation upon you and decades of abuse by Miranda, so I will not fight you while you actively try to kill me."

Like, I don't know what those people expected Ethan to do. He's Just a Guy, singed and sealed. Even if he was some kind of a therapist or a pacifist or something, idk, it would still be a stretch to imagine him stopping defending himself when they were attacking him, just in hopes of healing their decades-old trauma. Homeboy fought back against his own wife when she initiated attacks on him (without even knowing she had no control over her actions). The wife whom he stayed in the Baker house to save. If he wouldn't pull any punches when Mia, whom again he loved to death, tried to kill him, why the fuck would he ever pull punches from people who knowingly not only kept his daughter away from him, but also wanted to torture him?

Like are we all forgetting how Ethan first met the Lords? Heisenberg stabbed him, chained him and dragged him across the stone floor, then he and Dimitrescu were actually arguing over who gets to torture him, while Donna/Angie and Moreau were watching with excitement. Heisenberg even thanked Miranda (albeit with a deep sarcasm that we only understand after we know the whole story) for letting him drag Ethan into his torture show. Why the fuck would Ethan stop and think "Those people must have some deep-seated trauma that I specifically must resolve, even risk my life to do so!" especially since the one person he was actually responsible for, was in danger?

Like... Ethan was responsible for one (1) person. Rose. Whom the Lords knowingly kept away from him. Prioritizing other people, no matter how in need of saving they might be, over your kid, when said kid also needs saving... sorry to break it to you, but that's child abuse. Prioritizing the people who keep your child in need of help over your child who is in need of help... that toxic beyond all fuck, dude. Get some therapy, I know it's expensive, but it's needed.

And again, it's okay if people just wanna have fun with fiction. But going out into the wild (aka main tags) and seeing people actually demonizing Ethan for not being a toxic, abusive father and not simping for the Lords the way those people do... yikes. Were people mad, after first playing re7, that Ethan killed Eveline? Like, you wanna talk about victims? Look at Eveline, who was born as an experiment herself, and only acted out because the people who experimented on her refused to fulfill her one basic need; love. You could argue that if Ethan had simply showed her care, she might have gone quietly and not fought him the way she did. But again, it's not his fucking responsibility, as tragic as Eveline's case is. (Though in a way I'm glad there aren't as many people demonizing Ethan for that cause that would make me think there are people simping for Eveline and. Uhm.)

Or like you say, Lisa Trevor. As little as I know about the Resident Evil series, I know that in it sometimes infected people are just too far gone and the only kindness you can show them is to put them out of their misery. And again Lisa was, from the beginning to the end, a victim. The wiki itself doesn't even have any figures of her not being a disfigured, not even resembling a human anymore, bioweapon who is also chained down. That alone is creepy and disturbing as all fuck. But fuck her, I guess. She's not hot like Tall Vampire Lady or Daddy Magneto.

Like, this is why in that other post I made, I say "We stan Ethan for prioritizing his daughter and telling Heisenberg to fuck off". Saying yes to Heisenberg (I vehemently refuse to call what Heisenberg did a "deal" or an "offer"; it was outright blackmail) would mean he trusted a stranger, who had all but abused and used him, with his daughter's safety. And again sorry to break it to you, that's not father of the century material, it's not even father of the hour material.

TL; DR, the Lords are actually super interesting characters and they've got so many things to explore and discuss and write fic about. None of those things is that they were victimized by Ethan Winters. Accept you're a simp and understand your perception of Ethan is different than what the game intended us to have (vaild to hate him, invalid to think you're a genius for doing so).

#Ethan Winters #Resident Evil #Resident Evil 8 #re meta #anonymous #ask and ye shall receive #honestly thanks for this I like ranting myself :P

[stormyweaver]

Borrowed Time || Chp. 1

So my latest hyperfixation has been this show on Netflix called ‘Swee/t Home’. It’s a live-action South Korean adaption of a webtoon comic, and seriously if you’ve never heard of it before, at least watch the first episode. If you aren’t hooked, gosh, I don’t know what could make a person want more! But you don’t have to have seen the show to enjoy this I think, but again I’d highly reccommend checking the series out. I adore every single character and I’ll probably be writing more about them all, but for now I’m focusing on Pyeon San/g-wook because h-he’s my fave... He’s basically a mysterious drifter who dolls out justice in his own badass way, and he’s amazing and a super complex character. 

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR EPISODE FIVE, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED:

This is after Sang-wook kills the pedophile he was hired to find, and then drags his body outside while bringing two other victims who had died to a monster inside the apartment building. It was pouring raining and my brain instantly went: how can you have a out-in-the-rain scene without sickness? BLASPHEMY! Anyway hope y’all enjoy!

The timing might have been slightly comical if he didn't have a splitting headache. Or, was it a concussion? That... nurse had mentioned something similar, but he truly hadn't paid her any mind. Why would he give someone so prying the time of day in the first place? He hated being touched without his permission, no matter the reason; maybe she had simply been trying to help, but there was absolutely no way in hell he was going to let her continue treating him as if he was some weakling.

No, he only... felt weak, due to all of the stress. He would bounce back eventually - he inevitably did. Though he could never fully comprehend why, his body had an uncanny ability to heal faster than most, and bestowed him with a strength that most people only ever imagined themselves possessing. It had served him well over the years, made him capable of surviving on his own for as long as he'd needed to, aided him in carrying out the tasks others simply didn't have the stomach for. It had of course, had it's downsides - there were injuries and ailments he simply couldn't knock in a matter of hours, and those instances where he'd been forced to finally allow his body to rest were intensely irritating.

A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead as he staggered through the dirtied hallway and, sensing that he was finally alone, allowed himself to lean bodily against a flyer-littered wall. His breath was coming in short, harsh pants, almost bordering on wheezing, though his teeth instantly grit at the idea. He wasn't weak-- damn it, if Jae-heon had just left him out there to die, he wouldn't be feeling like utter, completely useless shit right now. The zealot likely loathed him just like the rest, if not fear then at the very least an intense dislike. Only his 'vows' or whatever meaningless word of God had made him keep the gate open. He swallowed- or rather, made an attempt to, and was unsurprised to find that the action was mildly painful. Pair that was the throbbing near his sinuses, the malaise, and the general feeling of being lethargic, it wouldn't take a medical professional to inform him that he was unwell. What was that old saying? Something about only fools catching a chill from standing out in the rain? Nonsense. But... well, he wasn't about to start pondering old proverbs with a pounding headache. At least he wasn't getting a nose bleed. Just a stuffy one. It took Sang-wook longer than he would have preferred to stand up straight again and continue limping down the walkway, but eventually he did, coming to a stop on the corner of a vacant room. He could practically hear his limbs creak as he perched himself on the edge of a step, and one hand automatically slipped into his jacket pocket. Some habits were harder to break than others. And if ever there a time he truly needed a smoke... With the lit cigarette between his lips, he began to ponder what his next move would be. He had technically finished his business there; no other reason to remain other than the fact that fucking monsters were roaming the city. Of all the positively inconvenient bullshit - monsters. Not that he had any real plans after taking care of matters. He never did. Being a drifter meant not making attachments, not allowing himself to get roped into anything unless it was related to his main task. And yet there he was, with an apartment full of people who either saw him as a thug or a threat or, for some irritatingly insane reason, a person to be pardoned. A laughable concept at best. He didn't even want to be pardoned - he didn't regret the things he had done, to begin with. And wasn't that one of the key steps to getting into heaven? Being repentant for your sins? Well, that was already one big strike against him. Just how did that damned nosey priest expect him to continue on, then? Why had he been so adamant about "saving" him? Why? A trail of smoke filtered past his nostrils, nose absently wrinkling as the thoughts only served to frustrate him all the more. What the hell was he going to do... He brought the stick to his lips again, but his breath caught pre-inhale, mouth forming a deeper frown than normal. A small pin-prick had been stinging the back of his nose ever since he'd woken up, but so far he'd been able to ignore it. Until now. He sniffed harshly, once, twice and, thinking that was that, but the moment he closed his lips around the cigarette, he inhaled harshly through his nose. "hH'KGSHHh!" The sneeze jerked his head down sharply, though he managed to keep it relatively quiet. The last thing he needed was some passerby hearing and having the guts to try and approach him. Though containing it hadn't done his headache any favors, and his teeth had nearly snapped the cigarette in half. Hell, he couldn't even smoke in peace. What was the point of still being alive, again? "You shouldn't be smoking," Ah, there it was. Sang-wook didn't need to glance up in order to place the voice - he could smell the self-righteousness from a mile away. Or, he would have, had he been able to smell anything at the moment.

Resisting the urge to sniffle, he made no attempt at offering even a semblance of acknowledgement towards the other. Not that it would stop him from poking his nose where it didn't belong, so it came as no surprise when Jae-heon stood directly in front of him, gradually lowering himself until he was seated similarly to the other with a soft grunt. Sighing, Sang-wook plucked the useless cigarette from his lips and tossed it to the floor, swiftly crunching it beneath his boot. "I'm not,"

Jae-heon hummed in acknowledgement. "I don't say it to judge," Sang-wook wasn't sure why he felt the need to clarify, but his gaze did flit over to the other's general direction for a moment. He could see the glint his blade gave off out of the corner of his eye. Curious. Although he didn't doubt the other's skill, he just didn't see a point in taking it with him everywhere. But that was ultimately his choice, and he didn't have the mental capacity to bother pondering why he did so. "How are you feeling?" The scarred man barely lifted his eyes to Jae-heon, who gestured with his chin towards the direction Sang-wook had originally walked from. "Yu-ri took a look at your head injury, right? Is it serious?"

The only response he gave was a meager shrug. Sang-wook wouldn't willingly give information about how he was feeling when it didn't matter in the long run. Whether he was fine or slowly bleeding out, what difference would it make? You shouldn't be alive in the first place; why does he care? God, thinking made his head throb. Couldn't he just be alone in this god forsaken complex for more than a solid minute?

He heard Jae-heon sigh, noted him shift slightly, but still kept his gaze glued to the floor. "What you did... I can't agree with your actions," Sang-wook almost scoffed aloud. Was he really expected to listen to a lecture about right and wrong? His attention was already split, anyway. The itch sparked in his sinuses still burned, not having been satisfied with the weak excuse for a sneeze, and every facial muscle was tensed as he worked to smother the sensation into submission. At least he always happened to look stoic, so he doubted the other would notice. Still, hearing Jae-heon gear up for a sermon of sorts didn't bode well for his waning resolve. "But I do understand why you did what you did. The others might not - they might still see you as something that you're not-" "What would you know about what I am?" Sang-wook interjected sharply, a scowl evident on his features. Admittedly, it hurt to talk, and he internally cringed at the trace of hoarseness in his voice. But he didn't like anyone thinking of him as some misunderstood wretch worthy of some kind of redemption. He wasn't a hero, he wasn't a villain, not good or evil - he simply was, and he never needed to be more or less than that, didn't need to satisfy anyone's opinion of him. Jae-heon glanced down momentarily, looking as if he were trying to gather his thoughts. Speaking could come as easily as breathing at certain times, and yet there were moments were every point of diction managed to fail him. "I'm not here to pity you. And I wouldn't claim to understand you. Every person has their reasons for what they do - and every person has to stand with those reasons before the almighty. I'm not here to judge," The scarred skin beneath Sang-wook's eye jumped slightly. "Then what are you here to do? Whatever it is, you're wasting your..." He had to pause, throat constricting momentarily before he sighed unevenly through his nose, "... breath. You should be more concerned about yourself," Jae-heon couldn't help but quirk a miniscule smile at that. "That isn't God's way. Besides, I wouldn't still be alive if I had decided to be selfish," His thoughts shifted to Hyun-su, Mr. Han, Ms. Im and Ji-su - he had all of them to thank for his life, for making it this far. People who, while they may not have shared the same faith as himself, had believed that sticking together and looking after each other was the way to survive - was the right path. No matter their differences, they chose to be selfless, and that was what had led them to finding the other survivors. Sang-wook didn't reply, mainly due to the fact that he wasn't sure he could safely do so without breaking his concentration. Though it didn't matter - Jae-heon continued anyway. "You didn't have to bring back Min-Ju and Su-ung. I won't ask you why, because to me, what matters is that you did. That means something," When Sang-wook didn't respond again, Jae-heon opened his mouth to continue, only to be silenced when the other opposite him took in a sharp inhale and twisted off to the side. "hH'GKxnt! h'HCHGnt!" Jae-heon blinked for a moment, not really startled by the sneezes but seeming to examine Sang-wook with a little more scrutiny, to which the the other flashed him a glare. Unfazed, he continued to gaze at the other. "You look pale. You should be resting," Sang-wook simply scoffed, cringing at the phlegm lining his throat. He desperately needed to sniff back the moisture threatening to breach his nostrils, but his pride held the action back as Jae-heon continued to press the issue. "You're up and about after having passed out - and you were in the rain for a good while. You might be getting sick," And if he was? What the hell did it matter? Sang-wook wanted to press both heels of his palms against his eyes and grind until the pressure behind them lessened at least a little. He was exhausted, and fatigue suddenly swept over him like the storm clouds still raging outside. Everything felt heavy and sluggish which, for someone with normally such sharp senses, was more than off-putting. It felt wrong. He felt wrong. Why was the good Christian wasting time worrying about whether or not he was ill when there were literal monsters still roaming the apartment? As if sensing his turmoil, Jae-heon finally moved to stand back up, katana blade resting by his side. "You should go see Yu-ri - at the very least she can give you something for your head," He began to turn away, paused, then uttered something that made the skin on the back of Song-wook's neck prickle uncomfortably.

"Take care of yourself," Jae-heon’s retreating footsteps seemed to echo unusually loud, and it wasn't until he could no longer hear them any longer that Sang-wook finally indulged in a thick, pitiful sniffle and allowed his head to drop into his waiting hands.

#greywrites; #shweet home; #still working on part two but i make no promises lol #unless... heh #borrowed time || part 1

[irrealisms]

hmmmmmm might do another 5am post…. what do we think. yeah okay fuck it let’s go. 5am is the best time for controversial opinions because nobody’s awake and they only get two notes so I can say whatever. gonna censor the names of characters that are unique so this doesn’t get caught in search results but prooooobably “dream” is a common enough word that this won’t get seen by everyone in the tag lmao

anyway i actually think a Dream redemption arc would kinda fuck if done well and i think given where the story is going rn it would be. dream’s going to get broken out; that’s not really in question at this point. dream deserves a healing arc after months of solitary confinement, starvation, and physical torture; i don’t think it’s the only satisfying option, narratively—i’m a wilbur stan, i’m a fan of breakdowns that just get worse until they explode and hurt everyone—but i do think it’s an option.

but also… if the syndicate helps with the prison break, that means ranb00’s there. and ccs wilbur and tommy have both teased exile being relevant again. which means dream might have to face the consequences of his actions—actually, for real, not “he’s getting tortured for quacklty’s bet”. people on the server might learn the extent of what he did. he might have to reckon with that and actually face justice.

It’s true that a redemption arc starting at the present day would be out of nowhere. Being tortured doesn’t actually make you a better person, and he hasn’t shown any signs of regret that actually understand what he did wrong and why it was wrong. If they expect me to accept that he can just recover from the torture and be a better person, I will be upset by that. That’s not a narratively supported choice, it’s one that pushes pro-torture concepts even as it claims to be against torture, and it would erase the actual abuse Dream did. But given the direction I hope the narrative is going, allowing him to heal from torture while bringing the trauma of the people he hurt to the forefront?

I think, after that, I would be ready for a redemption arc, if that’s where the story takes us. That doesn’t mean I think Tommy or any of the other people he hurt should forgive him or ever be near him ever again. It means I believe everyone can become better. I don’t know if Dream will. Some people don’t. There are ways of executing either option that I would find satisfying and cathartic, and ways I would find unsatisfying and frustrating. The dividing line isn’t whether Dream gets redeemed, or whether he deserves it (whatever “redeemed” or “deserve” even mean in this context). It’s about what the narrative sets up and how it pays off. Right now, I will feel unsatisfied and frustrated if Dream continues to be abused, and I will also feel unsatisfied and frustrated if the trauma of his victims isn’t seriously addressed by the narrative. Past that, they haven’t set things up yet, but I think there are satisfying and cathartic stories to be told whether or not Dream becomes a better person at some point in the future.

#therapists dni #any british ants in the chat? #anyway. follow me for 5am discourse. sometimes it is loyalism to a certain country and sometimes it is this. #my takes are vast and contain multitudes.

[ephemeral-afterlight]

Day 10: Unconscious

(We’ll lie, we’ll die.)

Whumptober 2019 Day 10: Unconscious

Word Count: 2065

Relationships: none

Warnings: Not unsympathetic Virgil but he is kinda an asshole in this, misunderstandings, physical violence, injury (head wound), cursing, implied neurodivergent/autistic Deceit (and mislabeling stimming as anxiety)

A/N: virgil having repercussions for his actions? i love this song! 

anyway, i’m sorry i’m late every day. i’m trying my best, but i’m having to write these in about an hour or so’s time, and it’s really difficult when the prompts are longer than 1k.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Virgil’s voice obviously comes as a shock to Deceit, of whom spins around from where he’s standing at the kitchen counter and hides his hands behind himself. Even as Deceit looks surprised, and a bit weary, there’s a gleam of childish excitement, and Virgil doesn’t like the look of it a single bit. The snake-like side shifts his weight between both of his feet nervously, rocks back and forth as he shyly glances up at him with bright eyes, and Virgil has a bad feeling about this.

“O-Oh, I was, uh-- I--” Deceit stammers, refusing to make eye contact, and Virgil narrows his eyes suspiciously. What the hell is he planning this time? Back when he still lived with them, Remus and Deceit played pranks all the time, and Virgil can still distinctly remember the feeling of putting his foot in his sock and it immediately being submerged in tomato sauce. Disgusting, and juvenile, and Remus hasn’t stopped calling him Spaghetti Sock since. Isn’t he creativity? Couldn’t he be a little more… you know… creative?

“Wait, are those cupcakes? What the hell do you think you’re doing messing with Patton’s stuff?” Virgil snaps when Deceit moves a bit too far to the right, exposing the tray of cakes decorated with patterns and colours to match each of the four light sides, including himself. There are light blue ones, undoubtedly Patton’s, which he decorated with hearts and outlines of cat heads. There are red ones, for Roman, which have music notes and stars. There are ones that are obviously Logan’s in dark blue, with stripes and mathematical symbols. And then there are Virgil’s, purple swirls and bats and spiders that must have terrified Patton to draw. 

Deceit looks like a deer caught in headlights, and his hand flutters at his side, quickly patting the side of his thigh over and over again. He’s obviously anxious, which is a dead giveaway that he’s up to no good. Virgil doesn’t know what the hell he’s trying to do. Is he messing up the designs? Eating them himself? Throwing them away? Virgil doesn’t think Deceit is that evil or malicious, but… what if he’s trying to poison them? What if he’s using Patton’s hard work to get back at them?

“Patton’s… stuff?” Deceit questions slowly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and the purple cupcake he’s holding in his hand is lowered. He glances down at it, turns to look at the tray for a moment, then meets Virgil’s glare with an odd gaze of his own. “But that’s not--”

“What’s going on down here? I’m trying to get my beauty sleep, hello!” Roman’s voice booms as he walks into the kitchen to stand in front of the dining table and rub at his eyes groggily. Logan follows behind, wearing plain pajama pants and a t-shirt as a contrasting juxtaposition to Roman’s boldly patterned matching set. He doesn’t say anything, just leans against the counter and crosses his arms, and his sleepy eyes are dark and neutral where they bore into Deceit.

“Deceit’s messing with Patton’s cupcakes. He won’t tell me what he’s doing,” Virgil growls in response, twisting his jacket sleeves in either hand restlessly. Deceit just looks down at his shoes, and taps on his leg faster, and Virgil wishes he’d just stop.

“What?! You fiend! How could you deface these sweet treats?” Roman asks as he pulls out his sword from seemingly nowhere, too offended to notice Deceit shrink back in what appears to be fear. What, he can pick a fight, but he runs away as soon as he’s confronted? Coward.

“That’s not--”

“Oh, quit lying, Deceit. Just own up so I can go to bed,” Virgil blusters, raises a lip in distaste when Deceit has the nerve to look upset. He’s the one who came into their home, messed with their stuff, and of course he’s gonna make himself the victim somehow. Fucking typical.

“Virgil,” Logan snaps from beside him, and Virgil whips his head to him in surprise. Is he seriously getting in trouble for this? For Deceit trying to hurt them? He’s just trying to protect them from a lying, evil snake, and Logan’s mad at him? “You are being unnecessarily harsh. Did you even see him do anything to the cupcakes? How do you know his intentions? Did you ask him, and did you allow him to speak? No matter if you like Deceit or not, you cannot accuse him of tampering and then refuse to even allow him the chance to explain himself or clear up any potential misunderstandings. He has the right to a fair trial.”

And despite Logan of course making it into literal due process, Virgil still listens. Maybe… maybe Logan’s right. He’s been stressed out all day, and he’s exhausted from the panic attack he had a few hours ago, so… maybe he’s bringing that negativity with him. He’s… what did Dr. Picani call it? Projecting. He’s projecting his frustration onto Deceit. He just needs to calm down and try to see a different perspective. Right.

“They’re Patton’s cupcakes. I didn’t make them. I was making them look worse. They taste like shit now. I hope you hate them,” Deceit rushes out, and his eyebrows furrow immediately. He looks frustrated, and confused, and a little bit panicked, and Virgil doesn’t see any of it. Instead, he sees Patton’s dejected face when he realizes that Deceit ruined the cupcakes he made for them, the way he’ll be so sad that Deceit can’t be good, that he’s nothing more than a snake. He’s angry. So angry. And Roman lets out an insulted “Hah?!”, shows the same emotion Virgil is feeling.

“What the fuck? Who the hell do you think you are?” Virgil snarls as Deceit sets the themed cupcake that was in his hand back into its place in the pan. His head buzzes like a swarm of wasps filled with ire, and he’s itching to do something he can’t pinpoint.

“Wait, no, he’s--” Logan starts, but a single indecipherable look from the snake-like side cuts his words off. The exchange is odd, and feels too familiar to be between the two, and Virgil doesn’t even care.

“I’m not gonna-- I’m gonna leave now,” Deceit chokes out, expression distressed and mouth wobbling, and Virgil’s so fucking mad. How dare he try to throw himself a pity party? Fake-crying, seriously? Who the hell believes that? And then Deceit is clutching at his cape with white knuckles, hunched over as he tries to sweep out of the kitchen, and-- no. He’s not just going to come in here, mess up their shit, and get away with it.

In a single motion, Virgil shoves Deceit forward, watches his panic and shock when he stumbles. He watches the fear flash through his eyes, the betrayal, the resignation, and Virgil falters too late.

Deceit’s head ricochets off the edge of the counter, smacking into the granite countertop with a loud thump. The others cringe in sympathy, wince when his iconic bowler hat is sent flying to the ground where it skids to a stop beside a chair. His body comes down with him, descends when his knees give out from the pain, and his limp arms fall to rest in front of him. He slowly pulls in on himself, and then relaxes completely with his body curled around the edge of the cabinet.

“Virgil! I may have had my own outbursts before, but I cannot condone unprompted violence!” Logan hisses, reprimands digging deep to unearth the tiny loose thread of guilt from the fray ripping into Virgil’s psyche. That… that was too much, even for him. What the hell? He’s-- he’s not supposed to be the bad guy! He’s been trying to be better, and at the first sign of provocation, he immediately becomes worse than the one he’s angry at? He stooped that low in a matter of moments?

“Come on, we all know we can’t get injured. Quit being dramatic,” Roman sighs as he puts his sword away. Even he glances at Virgil with the slightest hint of surprise, crosses his arms and shifts his attention to Deceit. He looks exasperated but empathetic, something that is far from mirrored on Virgil’s own face. “Deceit. Seriously. I know that wasn’t cool of Virgil, but there’s no point in dragging this out.”

And Deceit… doesn’t answer. He may be a liar, and a slippery snake, but he has nothing to gain from faking being hurt, so what is he doing? Is he trying to guilt-trip Virgil? Not that he… not that he doesn’t kinda deserve it, but it’s an… annoying way to go about making him apologize. Which he might not even do, if Deceit’s still being an asshole when he gets up. But then Logan is kneeling down beside Deceit, shaking his shoulder with an uncommon worry in his eyes, and suddenly this whole thing doesn’t feel as nonchalant as before. “Deceit. Deceit. Wake up. Deceit!”

He doesn’t wake up.

Then Logan rolls Deceit over, displays the blood coming from the cut on the snake-like side’s forehead, shows how his head rolls to the side without any resistance, and Virgil feels his heart leap into his throat. What the fuck. What the fuck. He didn’t-- He may have been mad, but he wasn’t trying to seriously hurt him! Why isn’t he getting up? They’re sides, for Christ’s sake, they can’t get injuries like that! They heal almost instantaneously!

“He’s-- he’s not waking up. I think-- maybe he can’t wave the wound away because he was knocked unconscious? But he still should have woken up by now. I don’t understand,” Logan mutters, talks in circles around himself with a rapid-fire pace. His thoughts are clearly hard at work, assessing all available information and possible outcomes, and Virgil’s hands are shaking. Why isn’t he waking up?

“Kiddos? Why is everyone awake so late? W-- What happened in here?!” Patton shrieks as soon as he sees the blood, and his hand shoots up to cover his mouth. He has to turn and lean on the kitchen door frame for support, uses the other hand to cradle his queasy stomach, and Virgil is simultaneously relieved and terrified.

“Deceit came in here and messed with the cupcakes you made, and then Virgil got mad and pushed him,” Roman informs plainly, hands clenched at his sides with the stress of not being able to do anything to help. Virgil is in the same boat himself. His fingers twist around each other, fidgety as he incredulously watches Logan attempt to wave away the wound and subsequently fail.

“But I didn’t make cupcakes,” Patton says worriedly, eyes perturbed as he seems to try to mentally extract information from the two still standing. Of course, he can’t read their minds, so he can only speculate himself, and that allows his brain to finally process Roman’s words. “Wait, Virgil pushed him? Virgil, that’s not okay!”

“But-- you didn’t make them? Then wh--” Virgil starts, but then his voice gets locked in his throat when he comes to the obvious realization. Fuck. Fuck! He… those were… why?! Why did he just stand there? Why didn’t he just say s--

Oh.

“This is what happens when you jump to conclusions, Virgil. I thought you’d moved past this type of childish behaviour, but clearly my expectations were too high. Deceit obviously made cupcakes for us, went to the trouble of decorating them with our preferred colours and themes, and you knocked him unconscious for it,” Logan says angrily. His words are charged, and they’re completely true. Virgil can’t-- he’s so stupid. He was so caught up in himself he didn’t even bother to look at the full picture. He knows what it’s like to be the outcast, knows what it’s like to try to fit in and appeal to people the only way he knows how, and yet he still… He demonized Deceit without even bothering to put himself in his shoes. He shouldn’t even need to, because he’s been there, and he still ruined what was obviously meant to be a thoughtful gift to make peace with them. He’s such an asshole.

“I hope you’re happy with your choice, Virgil,” Logan mumbles, and Patton is conflicted, and Roman can’t even look at him, and Virgil knows he’s seriously fucked up.

#whumptober2019 #no.10 #unconscious #ts sides #sanders sides #ts deceit #deceit sanders #deceit angst #neurodivergent deceit #autistic deceit #(implied) #ts virgil #virgil sanders #asshole virgil #ts logan #ts roman #ts patton #sympathetic patton #misunderstandings #tw injury #tw blood #physical violence #cursing #tw cursing #jasper's writing

[kaiqarker]

lost and found | part 1

pairing: xavier plympton x reader

warnings: swearing, angst

summary: in which a savior of heaven is sent down to camp redwood to put an end to the bloodbath and help the lost souls that reside there.

tag list: @vixi3303

part one: the awakening

THE GIRL DIDN’T DARE let any of her doubts bleed to the surface while she took one step after another, entering the premises of the unholy ground that was camp redwood. she had done her research of course, learning the truth and the lies and how every drop of blood was spilt in between in all. the place itself was an undoubtable tragedy, and if her facts were right, so were the souls stuck here.

satan had been behind some of the most cruelest acts placed upon humanity, but she was was sure this was one of the worst. he had cursed the area; so whoever died (gruesomely in almost all cases) here, were trapped. this was a purgatory for them, a hell without the infamous flames and bloodstained sky. unfortunately, that kind of thing results in these ghosts giving up any sort of humanity they had left.

so not only did the living leave its twisted mark, the dead did too. some were plainly lost, forgotten that they had even perished. some were aware, but have been here for so long they were merely zombies, their hope and motivation to do much of anything gone. and then finally, there were the ones who decided that they would make the most of this opportunity, abandoning all sense of right and wrong and spreading their curse.

those were the people heaven were most concerned about. they were turning this campground into even more of a bloodbath than it already was. held back with no morals of any kind, they proved to be devious and heartless, willing to end of the life of any tourist that happened to wander into the area.

so heaven, the land of light and peace, had sent her. having been human once, they had thought she’d be able to get through to a few of them. and with her flawless ability to follow the rules and show compassion, she had seemed like the perfect choice to her superiors. she only hoped to live up to their high expectations, especially elijah’s.

branches snapped beneath her sneaker-covered feet as she followed a trail through the surrounding woods. her eyes shifted around, looking for any sign of another’s presence, and ultimately coming up empty. her eyebrows knitted together, not knowing what to think of the quiet hum of the forest and the blue jays that had just fluttered by. she had expected utter chaos and to be overwhelmed with the unresolved problems the camp harbored immediately. and yet, she dared to think that this place was almost... calming.

the pain that erupted from her shoulder blade pulled her out of her enchantment, a small cry of surprise escaping her while she stumbled forward, almost falling onto the ground where the autumn leaves would have barely cushioned her fall. she instinctively turned around, finding the sight of a smirking blonde standing merely a foot away from her, the bloody knife in her hand gaining y/n’s attention for a moment.

“sorry to be rude and not introduce myself, but i’m not in an introductory mood. quite frankly, i’m sick of talking in general. it can ruin the moment, you know?” the blonde said to her, twisting her wrist and making sure the blade was pointed directly at her.

the newcomer took a step back, standing up on her own and removing the hand she had placed on a tree trunk for balance. the irritation from her stab wound had almost completely gone away; she knew her ability to heal fast would probably come in handy down here.

“you call killing an innocent person a moment, montana?” y/n questioned, recognizing the doe-eyed woman instantly. she watched as montana’s red-stained lips turned into a flat line, her playful demeanor dropping.

“how do you know my name?”

“because i’m supposed to. it’s my job to.”

“that isn’t clearing anything up.” montana growled, gripping her knife tighter. she debated on whether she should let her explain or just kill her like she had originally planned.

“put the knife down and we’ll talk.” y/n replied with raised hands, indicating she wanted to do the ghost no harm.

“yeah, no thanks.”

montana lunged at her, the blade of her knife slicing the air and not her skin as y/n easily dodged the attack, more prepared than before. the soon-to-be angel studied the way she only grew more frustrated, huffing in displeasure before she went after her target again.

this time y/n didn’t just avoid the blonde, she grabbed ahold of her wrist, stopping the knife from being thrusted into her chest. montana tried with all of her strength to push against her grasp and allow the blade to burrow deep within the stranger, but y/n’s grasp didn’t falter. in fact, she twisted montana’s wrist just enough so that she would drop the weapon, and then pushed her away from her.

montana stumbled back, shocked and embarrassed at how easily she was overpowered. especially since she had been a feared predator ever since she had died and been stuck in this place. she loved the power she possessed and every plea of mercy she had gotten from her victims. and now, the blonde felt how she felt when she was alive, helpless.

“what the hell are you?”

“technically,” she began, picking up the knife that still had her blood coated on the blade, “i’m an angel. well, almost one. point is — i’m from heaven.”

montana was about to laugh at the outrageousness before her eyes happen to catch sight of y/n’s back, seeing only dry blood instead of a leaking flesh wound. she had stabbed her, she was sure of it. she had saw the blade puncture her skin and cut through her.

“no fucking way.”

“way.” y/n said with humor in her voice, letting herself be amused despite the fact she had someone who wanted to kill her right in front of her.

“what’s going on here?” a voice gained both of the girls’ attention, belonging to the one and only xavier plympton, who was clad in a pair of white shorts and a purple muscle tank.

his blue eyes find montana first but then they drift to the new girl, examining her pretty face, framed by stray strands of hair that escaped her pony tail. they lower down to where her white tank top clings to her chest and eventually past her matching shorts where her long legs were offered up to his view. he decided she definitely wasn’t hard to look at.

“who are you and why hasn’t montana killed you yet?” he asks, automatically becoming curious and taking a few steps towards both of them.

“i’m y/n. and believe me, she’s tried.” y/n gestured to the knife in her raised hand, wagging it back and forth for clarification.

“if you keep talking about me like i’m not here then i will kill both of you!” montana kicked off the tree she was leaning against, sending them both a glare that certainly didn’t intimidate either of them in the slightest. she took her place beside xavier, grabbing ahold of his shirt and yanking him down so his lips crashed messily against hers. her eyes closed in the satisfaction that she was still in control when it comes to things like this, wordlessly claiming he was hers to have and play with as she pleased.

xavier’s eyes stayed open for once, staring directly at the stranger and how uncomfortable she looked with the spontaneous action. he noticed her parted lips, averted gaze, and the blush that began to rise to the surface of her cheeks. she was innocent — and that sparked something within him.

finally montana pulled away with a pleased sigh, returning her focus back to the girl who had many surprises to offer. her eyes narrowed when she spotted her knife still in her hand, knowing she would get it back even if she had to break each and every one of her fingers.

“guess what, xav? she’s a fucking angel.”

“almost angel.” y/n corrected immediately.

“seriously? like an angel with wings and halos and shit?” xavier asked, tilting his head and believing it easier than montana did.

“they don’t actually have those. but... yes, i’m from heaven.”

“fine. what are you doing here then? because it can’t just be to ruin my day.” montana scoffed, crossing her arms.

“i’m here to help you.” y/n spoke with sincerity, eyes unwavering as they locked on both xavier and montana.

xavier felt the impact of her words, hearing the promise in her soft-spoken voice, and was unexpectedly affected. that itself confused him. he hadn’t allowed himself to care about anything since he died and got stuck here. there was no point. no rewards or consequences to any action. he had accepted years ago that this was his afterlife for the rest of eternity, and now he what? was supposed to believe this girl and have the hope she so clearly had? he didn’t. but a little part of him wanted to, and that’s what left him speechless for the moment.

“bullshit. get me back my knife and maybe i won’t cut your eyeballs out of your sockets.” montana rolled her eyes and held out her hand, already over this whole situation.

“really? after all of this that’s what you’re most concerned about?”

montana nods her head, lips pulled into a frown, and y/n shrugs nonchalantly as an idea pops into her head. “alright. fine. if you want it, go get it.”

before the blonde can say another word, y/n flings the knife with quite a force in a random direction, and montana can only watch as the weapon flies through the air and disappears into the trees. that was it. it was personal now.

“you little bitch!” montana hissed, ready to pounce on her again and give her murder another go, but she’s stopped by xavier’s grip on her arm.

“babe, stop. it’s just a knife. there’s other weapons in the sea.” xavier jokes, smirking at her enraged form, and he pretends that he wasn’t stopping her just to mock her.

“i don’t care. i just want her dead. let go of me before i kick you in the balls. dead or not i know it still hurts!”

“you can’t kill me.” y/n interjects, seeing montana cease her struggle in xavier’s hold. “i already died. that’s how i got to heaven in the first place. you can try, but i’d just come back.”

“fine. i can’t kill you. but i can hurt you. so i would leave while you still can, because i will make it my mission to torture you the entire time you’re here.”

“i’m not going anywhere.”

“then, i would start looking over your shoulder. you’ve seen what happens when you don’t,” montana grins wickedly as she nods her head to the dry blood still sticking to her skin, and without another word, she turns around and starts in the direction where her knife was thrown.

“she truly is lovely. i get what you see in her. so dedicated.” y/n mutters sarcastically, placing her hands on her waist while she wonders to herself how she will ever turn someone like montana around.

“montana sure is something,” she hears xavier respond from beside her, hearing the leaves crunch with each step he aimlessly takes towards her. she doesn’t notice until his hot breath fans her ear that he had gotten that close to her. “but she’s no angel.”

her neck pivots when she turns her head to face him, their noses almost bumping from their proximity from each other. his oceanic eyes held mischief and playfulness, staring directly into her guarded pair. it was clear he didn’t give much thought into having boundaries.

“i’m surprised you’re not trying to kill me too.” y/n states, managing to keep her voice steady and her face neutral even though the lack of space between them was unnerving to say the least. it was the most intimate situation she had been in since she was alive.

“little ol’ me? now what would make you think that?” he smiles charmingly but the dark humor in his tone is evident, his breaths from his words tickling her lips.

“i’ve read your file, xavier.” she breaks their little staring contest, taking a step back away from him. “you’re just as murderous and manipulative as montana.”

“and yet you’re not running for the hills.”

“because whether any of you see it or not, you’re redeemable.”

xavier can’t help but laugh, finding her words nothing short of unbelievable. “listen, angel. it’s cute and all that you think you’re gonna flap your nonexistent wings and fix our poor little broken souls, but most of us don’t even want saving. like me. i’m perfectly happy here. i have never been more free.”

“and your life alive was so horrible?”

“compared to this, yeah. i tried to save people, to do the right thing, and i just ended up dying — painfully by the way. morals blind you. they hold you back. it’s much more freeing to just let go. you should try it.” he explained, watching her let his response sink in. her face morphed into a frown, and he could have been imagining it, but her eyes seem to glaze with sadness.

“you’re... so wrong and you don’t even know it.”

“i’m not, angel. that’s just how it is.”

“then, bertie protecting you, saving you, that meant nothing?” y/n asked, watching his face harden for the briefest of seconds before he returned to smirking and raising his eyebrows at her.

“that was just pointless. i died anyway.” he shrugged, burying his hands in his pockets.

“still,” she argued, gravitating back towards him, “it was worth something before that. you were grateful and relieved and... sad when you saw the condition she was in.”

“maybe. but none of that matters now.” xavier dismisses, feeling something build up inside of him with the point she was making. his throat was tight and he clenched his jaw in an attempt to contain whatever it was.

“things could matter again, xavier.” she whispered, letting her eyes properly roam his face and all of its flawless alignments. he was beautiful, there was no denying that.

he allows himself to gaze shamelessly right back at her, studying the upturn of her adorable nose, soft, pink lips, and finally returning to her eyes that possessed so much depth it just about consumed him. it was no wonder she was an angel, every part of her was angelic and undeniably mesmerizing. his heart swelled with admiration, catching him off guard more than anything that had happened during their encounter. her influence on him terrified him.

“i don’t think so,” he declares coldly, newfound anger at her rising to the surface, masking any other emotion he was feeling.

“xavier.” she murmurs, surprised at his sudden change of mood. it seemed as if they were getting somewhere, and he did a total 180 on her.

“just do us all a favor and leave. because montana’s right, if you stay, we won’t take it easy on you.” he scoffs, glancing at her perplexed face one more time before he leaves her there on the trail, alone and questioning just about everything.

#xavier plympton #xavier plympton x you #xavier plympton smut #xavier plympton x reader #cody fern #ahs 1984 #ahs #au #lqveify

[tatticstudio55]

I’ve wept over the epi yday and given it some thought and I realized that this is the ending GRRM probably gave Dany, but D&D have butchered it. The main problem I had is that even with the past shocking deaths, they all died IN character. I can see GRRM bringing in Mad queen Dany (fuck him for it though) but in a way that is organic and not a complete 180. I can see Dany ignoring the surrender, and flying right to the Red Keep for Cersei, because she wanted revenge, and in the process 1/2

2/2 setting of caches of wildfire by mistake. And I can see Dany looking at the carnage she’s brought, the one thing she didn’t want to do - leave the world a worse place than she’d found it. So, yes, I can believe GRRMs twisted mind would bring that about, and Dany coming to that realization would be tragic. But this?! Her dying having become her father? This is just nihilistic. I had no illusions that Dany would end up on the throne, but this is pathetic, even Cersei/Jaime got a better ending

Hi anon,

Look, between you and me, the only way you can make sense of Dany’s actions last night, and yes, that includes if it happens in the books as well, is that it. wasn’t. in. character. 

She snapped. You can’t take Dany’s character as a whole, even with its progression in the latest seasons (and especially not where we’re at in the books), and use it as evidence for what she has done. Some people are claiming they saw it coming. I didn’t. I honest to god didn’t. She snapped. That’s the only explanation I can come up with. 

If the author/show runners wanted to give us a tragedy, congrats, it worked. Seriously. I don’t view this as a cautionary tale. I view this as a tragedy, and instead of being horrified or angry at Dany’s character for burning KL, I just feel distraught for her. I’m crushed for her. Do I also feel for the victims of KL? Absolutely. They were innocent victims. They were butchered for no reasons. They were butchered for something that could’ve 100% been avoided. But I just can’t find it in myself to hate Dany for it! I just can’t! I’ve never felt so sad for a fictional character. And I feel horrible for Jon as well. Both of them deserved so, so, so much better. Now, a tiny, tiny, tiny part of me still hope that Dany is pregnant and that they’ll both fuck off North at the end. A sad, pitiful part of me still hope that Jon will, maybe not forgive her, but keep loving her anyway, because the Dany I know is so much more than what she was last night, and these other, kinder, better parts of her still make her deserving to be loved. Maybe she doesn’t deserve to be queen, but she still deserves to be a mother, and Jon deserves more than to live the rest of his life as a recluse in the North. He still has to pass Longclaw to his children. I want them to grieve and heal together. I want Dany to atone for what she’s done, not to be murdered for it. I want to hear Ramin”s “Truth” one last time, because we hardly heard it this season. I know it probably won’t happen and that I’m probably just delusional from crying too much and lack of sleep, but here we are anon.  

#Jonerys #jon snow #daenerys targaryen

[sindrafalcone]

Okay, here's the deal. I feel like saying a few of my thoughts on the Seungri issue. It will most likely make some people angry & I may lose followers over it. But I'm to the point that I'm very “whatever” about this whole mess and the division it's brought to the VIP fandom.

Let me start by saying that I am neither OT5 nor OT4. I am VIP and I will support Bigbang in whatever form it exists. Which, in my opinion, right now is 4. Seungri withdrew himself from the group, from YG, and from the entertainment industry as a whole. You might not like that or agree with it, but it was his choice to make.

Now for the bigger issues at hand...

I don't really mind the prostitution. As long as they were legally of age and were willing participants, then I believe that a woman's right to her body is her own. If she chooses to sell sex for money, that's none of my business. So, no... I don't care if Seungri bought sexual services, either for himself or for others. Of course, it is still illegal and he should be punished for breaking the law, but it isn't a big enough of a deal for me to hate him for it.

I also don't mind the embezzlement or tax evasion issues. Again, he still did it & should be held accountable for that. But, I'm sure that almost all the large businesses do it & it's not enough for me to call for his head on a pike.

Admission of minors into Burning Sun/Arena/Monkey Museum? Eh, it happens everywhere. Not enough for me to warrant the electric chair.

Police/Government Official bribery? Yeah, it's a big deal. Yeah, he should pay up if guilty. Nope... not enough for me to wish capital punishment upon him.

It does upset me that he knew what kind of things his friends in the group chat were up to & seemingly did not speak up against it. It's not his place to police his associates, but I still would have expected something beyond, “Stop it, you'll get in trouble.” or telling them to delete chats & switch phones. I would go so far as to say that he's an accessory after the fact. And, while I'm disappointed that he did not report his friends to authorities, I can also see why he didn't. After all, he was a member of that chat & if he was also up to his neck in shady business dealings and hookers, then he wouldn't want to report anything to the police... no matter how fucked up it was. So, yes... disappointing, but understandable. Still not enough for me to “cancel” him.

Only two things about this really, really bother me.

The drug dealing in Burning Sun.

The supposed things that went on with some VVIP members of the club.

Now, if you are not up to date on those topics, I will not be getting into the details of it here.  Suffice it to say that it's extremely fucked up. And if Seungri knew, in depth, about either of those things... then yes, I would get behind the crowd that wants him to pay dearly. (Especially the VVIP stuff. My god, I had nightmares about that shit after reading what supposedly went on.)

Like, I'm sure that he knew drugs and sex were going down.  It is a club, after all. But if he knew the depth of the depravity... damn.

The bad thing is, that we will most likely never know for sure.

I mean... you can say, “Well of course he knew what was going on! It was his club. He was a manager!” OR you can say, “He was a major celebrity! There's no way that he was involved in the day to day operations. He wouldn't have had time for that!” I can see both sides of the argument as being a possibility. And, lord knows, that he's not going to be forthcoming with information about it any time soon.

On a personal level, I am done with the man. He hurt his brothers with his selfishness. He hurt my daughter with his actions. He hurt my fandom with his carelessness.

That being said... I don't agree with trying to erase him from Bigbangs history. That's just silly, in my opinion. He was there & was an integral part of the group. Trying to act as if he never existed is futile and childish. As for me, I have come to separate the art from the artist. I will not let him diminish my love for their music & personalities.

I also see a lot of people trying to read things into past statements from members of Bigbang. And, while I do agree with the majority of you, that there was some major shade being thrown Seungri's way, some of y'all are delusional with the “interpretations” you are trying to push. It's like full blown fucking conspiracy level bullshit. Seriously, we will not know how the others feel until such time as they choose to make a statement about it. Stop peddling your little theories around! It's just making things worse.

Also, people really need to educate themselves about this issue and Korean judicial process before they blindly speak out about things or attack other people. (I'm talking beyond AKP,  Soompi & Kpop Twitter.) If I see one more post about Seungri's arrest warrant being rejected & the police announcing that they won't seek another so that proves that he's innocent... I'm gonna scream. Pre-trial detainment warrant. Look it up. (For the record, I actually agree with the judges decision on that one.)

What angers me is a lot of the media coverage. There are way more important things going on here than anything that Seungri did. High ranking government official cover-ups (tied to both the former and current Presidents), rampant police corruption, Chaebols getting away with some pretty scary shit. Non-celebrities tied in with the group chat that were disturbingly depraved. (I'm looking at you Mr.  Kim) Group chats of reporters spreading the videos from the “molka” group chat and making fun of the victims. And other Kpop idols that were engaged in activities that, at least at first glance, seem to be way worse than anything that Seungri was involved in.

And yet, all the media wants to talk about is Seungri. Why? Because it sells.

It's disgusting.

They put his name into headlines where it doesn't even belong just for clickbait. The story isn't remotely about him, and yet, his name is thrown into the mix. That's not journalism. It's sensationalism. There's almost no coverage of the stories that really matter! I don't know why I expected better...

Lastly, I will say that I like to think that almost everyone is redeemable. Everyone is human & everyone makes mistakes. The same is true of Seungri. (Unless of course  it is proven that he knew about the VVIP stuff. In that case, eff him.) But it's my personal belief that the man is a sociopath & he needs help. It is my hope for him that can see what he's done (to himself and others), admit his wrongdoing, and get some professional help so that he can grow as a person and move on into a better life.

I wish peace upon all the victims in this mess, both the physical victims (group chat victims, VVIP/Drug victims) and the emotional ones (Bigbang members and VIPs).

I hope we can all heal & move on from this at our own pace.

[aefintyr]

what's one thing u want people to know or remember about ur muses?

Uhhhhhhhhhhh, this is an unexpected question lmao I literally had to sit here for a few minutes and just like, think about it. Because I’m like, terrible at headcanons. I usually keep that shit in my brain or I vomit it at friends lol

LETA PYRITES

As much as Leta is justified in their actions, it doesn’t excuse what they’ve done and they know it. Yes, their role is mainly as a spy and blackmailing others but they have witnessed many, many deaths, been complicit in the deaths of many Muggles and Muggleborns, and have actively killed when they’ve had to. They’ve never wanted to and don’t enjoy it, but they know it doesn’t matter in the eyes of their victims or their victims’ loved ones. In their eyes, they’re just another Death Eater, another Pureblood, another monster. Their reasons don’t matter. And Leta has learned to live with this.

ÉTIENNETTE WILKES

My sweetest, softest, rose-tinted girl. She isn’t the serpent hiding underneath the flower, she is the flower. But that doesn’t mean she’s innocent. She compromises her morals until they become basically irrelevant because she chooses her friends over morality, over what is right. She surrounds herself with monsters, cares for monsters, and willingly works for the biggest monster of them all. Part of it is being inadvertently conditioned over the years by her friends to disregard her morals, but a lot of it is by choice.

MARY MACDONALD

Her Catholic upbringing had a big effect on how she views the world, regardless of whether or not she still believes in God but especially when she stops. It affected her disillusionment and subsequent distrust of Dumbledore, and it affected her own morality when it had been so absolute. Thou shalt not kill. Her faith and belief in God was one of the foundations of who she was, and that gets absolutely shattered after Mulciber nearly kills her. Through the haze of depression and emptiness that follows, she eventually comes to two startling conclusions: either God isn’t real and could have never saved her or God is real and didn’t bother to. She takes a sharp left turn into morally ambiguous territory, and as they say - the rest is history.

PANDORA LOVEGOOD

The fact that she is a Malfoy is so, so important to her character, y’all, like I’m not even fucking with you. It gives context to how she interacts with others, her relationship with blood purity and Death Eaters, the subsequent rejection of those things because she doesn’t have time for that and just why Pandora treats the world a particular way in reference to how she’s always been treated throughout her life.

ALECTO CARROW

Alecto has numerous ugly scars on her back inflicted upon her through dark magic by her father. Her back is honestly a mess of horrendous scar tissue and have never properly healed due to the nature of cursed wounds, and she has always been self-conscious of it. Her father made sure it was on a place that generally others wouldn’t notice. When she attends pureblood events and parties, she never wears backless dresses and is very particular when she has sex with others. They’re a permanent reminder of what she has to live up to, of her father’s expectations and punishments when she fails to. She hates him for it that she imagines killing him countless times and hopes to run away. She loves him enough that she continues to try and fail to be good enough for him.

GRISHA MCLAGGEN

Will I ever stop saying her relationship with Tom/Voldemort? Probably not. I mean, you can’t blame me when it’s kind of the center point of the fan film. He’s a crux component of her identity and the discovery of her heritage, and how she grew into herself during Hogwarts. Grisha holds herself responsible for not stopping him when she had the chance, when she had many chances to. For not seeing the red flags for what they truly are, for seeing them and turning away because she wanted to see him as the brilliant boy she fell in love with, as her best friend she was going to change the world with, as the hero who saved Hogwarts at the cost of a poor girl’s life and a sweet boy she knew. Grisha bought into the illusion and the person because she wanted to, because she couldn’t face the reality of who this boy she’s known all these years really was. Then she became an Auror as a result but it was already too late to save him from himself. And then she was too late to save her friends from him.

BELLATRIX LESTRANGE

Bella is a monster, plain and simple. She is a horrible, terrible human being and is a villain for a reason. I don’t see how you could ever forget this but don’t think I forgot this, because I definitely haven’t. She’s a powerful, deadly monster; delighting and an expert in killing people. But this doesn’t negate how important her relationship with her sisters is to her character and to me. To her, they are, or were, her soulmates; her flesh and blood, meant to be hers and meant to be by her side forever. She is not who she is without them. Her loyalty to them is fiercer, more absolute than her loyalty to her own parents - or so she thought. Andromeda’s betrayal entirely fractures her identity and how she saw herself and the world around her. She stops letting people in almost entirely, her distrust skyrockets, and she double downs on everything awful about herself while simultaneously becoming obsessive over those she cares about that she has left. 

ALICE LONGBOTTOM

I don’t believe I’ve ever stated this on the blog yet or have it mentioned on Alice’s profile yet, but Alice was a fucking magical genius. She was a poster child prodigy born into the limelight because of her Quidditch superstar dad and Sacred 28 mum, constantly compared to and pitted against her Squib twin sister and she hated it. But she also worked hard to live up to her own expectations, and in some ways the expectations of her parents and the public. She is brilliant and good, applying herself to anything and everything - partially so her sister doesn’t miss out on all the sorts of magic Hogwarts has to offer. I believe Dumbledore would’ve recruited her regardless of whether or not she was an Auror, that was only a bonus. Basically, out of all my muses, she’s the only one who would actually be a threat to Bellatrix and the Lestrange brothers.

MAFALDA PREWETT

Okay, I often joke about how awful Mafalda is; how she likes to show off, is an attention seeker and is hungry for validation, sarcastic and bitchy and rude, and has a tendency to be nosy and eavesdrop and gossip about others. But like, she’s a match for Hermione in terms of intellectual and academic prowess. And she isn’t afraid to work hard for it, to make up for the years where she was left in the dark by her parents in order to catch up to her peers and be better than them. Like she genuinely enjoys learning and is very, very gifted and studious. She’s a tad bit too arrogant, sure, but there’s a genuine reason for her arrogance.

CHARITY BURBAGE

Charity is still very materialistic. It’s not a surprise, honestly, for a girl raised by purebloods and swathed in wealth. She enjoys and savours expensive clothing, fine wine and food, lavish trips to beautiful cities. There’s a certain image she projects after rejecting her real name and using ‘Burbage’ instead, with long sweaters, and cups of tea, and dog-eared pages in worn copies of Hamlet. But yeah, she still keeps a small fortune of galleons around before she self-exiled herself, and the apartment she bought is in a far more expensive area of Muggle London. But at the same time, she was willing to give up her comforts and material wealth and luxuries for the sake of her independence and bettering herself away from the influence of her family. 

LILY EVANS

My Lily is, purposefully, not like Fanon!Lily, or at least I’m trying to consciously not make her like that; whether or not I achieve it is another story altogether. There’s a lot of pent up resentment, and she was very willing to break the rules that she often made others uphold. She wasn’t friends with the Marauders at all during most of Hogwarts, only starting to befriend them when she began dating James in her seventh year and absolutely abhorred the boy until she ended her friendship with Snape. She had her own group of girls she was very close with, including Mary Macdonald, her best friend, and had dated a few people before James, with one very serious relationship with a girl ending by Sixth year. She was very willing to seriously hurt Mulciber (and even kill him) when she heard what he did to Mary, and after Dumbledore said that Mulciber wouldn’t be expelled for his actions. 

KATIE BELL

She REALLY likes girls, that’s all. Okay, but seriously her friendship with the girls around her - Angelina, Alicia, Leanne, Hermione - is so important to her, and important to me too. It’s as intrinsic to her character as Quidditch is, as the terrifying moment when she got cursed by the opal necklace. Although they are a part of her realisation that she’s attracted to girls, she really loves them a lot and would do anything for them. 

DORCAS MEADOWES

She never wanted this life. Dorcas has been running away from this for so long, trying so hard to untangle herself from all of it, because this isn’t who she is, who she wants to be. She rejected magic, she rejected the Wizarding World, she rejected her place in the war. Being special, being different from everyone around her, fucking frightened her. She was content with the life she already had - being normal, as normal as a Jewish-Indian girl can be living in Wales with two dads. Her moral compass is the choke chain that holds her in place, that drove her to join the Order after much convincing from Alastor Moody, that had her agreeing to become a double agent within the Death Eaters’ ranks. There’s a lot of self-loathing and reluctance when it comes to her character and her involvement as a Double Agent.

#anonymous #god this has been sitting in my inbox since forever #( *✧ —— headcanons ┊ leta pyrites. ) #( *✧ —— headcanons ┊ étiennette wilkes. ) #( *✧ —— headcanon ┊ mary macdonald. ) #( *✧ —— headcanons ┊ pandora lovegood. ) #( *✧ —— headcanons ┊ alecto carrow. ) #( *✧ —— headcanons ┊ grisha mclaggen. ) #( *✧ —— headcanons ┊ bellatrix lestrange. ) #( *✧ —— headcanons ┊ alice longbottom. ) #( *✧ —— headcanons ┊ mafalda prewett. ) #( *✧ —— headcanons ┊ charity burbage. ) #( *✧ —— headcanons ┊ lily evans. ) #( *✧ —— headcanons ┊ katie bell. ) #( *✧ —— headcanons ┊ dorcas meadowes. )

[eorzean-capitalist]

The more flowery a person’s speech … the more suspect the feelings, or lack of feelings, it concealed. --  Gustave Flaubert, Madame Bovary

There’s a lot to unpack from the fauxpology that appeared recently on a new blog from Oz.  I’ve seen this before... from multiple abusive people.  

So let’s dive in, shall we?

There are some things I need to address, some of which I need to apologise for. I want to be clear this is not me entering into a debate, this is not my version of events, this is an apology for where I have made mistakes and where I have at times hurt many people who ultimately did not deserve it, many of whom are my friends and loved ones. 

Some of which you need to apologize for? Some?

I have no intention of any kind to publicly address this any further. I do not think it would be of any benefit to anyone, particularly the people I have hurt, to escalate this more than it already has by arguing about any specific claim’s full context. If you wish to speak with me privately, I encourage you to reach out to me personally

Private, where you can continue to try to control the narrative.  Private, where you can attempt to keep gaslighting your victims.  Private, where no one else can see what you’re saying and go ‘Um, no, that’s not correct’.  

And whose benefit here are you really concerned about?  Because I can tell you right now, your victims would /love/ for you to publicly acknowledge the hurt you caused them.  It just wouldn’t be very fun for you to be open to the kind of scrutiny you’ve called to attention on other people for daring to go against your dictates and mandates.

Unfortunately, I have to be clear about what, exactly, I’m apologising for. In the noise and fury surrounding the last week or so, accusations have been made that are not simply bad interactions taken out of context or even objectionable but otherwise fairly mundane failures of decency, but utterly detestable and even illegal.

Jesus christ, put down the fucking thesaurus.  We get it.  You know big words.  Would you stop tap dancing around the point and actually get to it?  

Actually, I’ve read this run-on sentence several times and I really can’t make heads or tails of it.  What are you trying to say here, Oz?  Are you accusing your victims of making shit up?  Despite all the evidence that’s been posted?  Are you suggesting that somehow talking about the shit you’ve done is illegal?  Like really?

I do not say this to excuse anything I have actually done or anywhere I have actually been wrong, but so that I can apologise for where I have indeed done wrong without admitting to baseless claims of acts that are not just morally reprehensible but in some cases illegal.

“So I want to cherry pick what to apologize for.  The stuff that’s just kinda assholish I’ll admit to but everything else is illegal because I say so.”

I have never doxxed, stalked, sexually harassed, or threatened the the life of anyone

Um.  Sure, Jan.

Additionally, I have never sent anonymous hate messages through Tumblr or any other medium. I have never condoned any of those behaviours, encouraged them in others, nor have I ever made false claims of any of the prior acts.

Uh huh.  Have you forgotten we’ve all SEEN you do this shit?  You may not do anon tumblr hatred, but you do threaten people.  I’ve seen you go on complete tirades over and over again.  People have actually posted testimonials and screenshots of logs where you are threatening them.  Seriously, stop denying you do this shit. 

I have made many mistakes and, yes, I have made some very bad choices. While I am absolutely guilty of being unnecessarily aggressive, disdainful, and combative, I have not done any of those things. I am not going to speculate about the motivations of the people making these claims, but suffice it to say they are entirely false and the people making them have no reason to believe otherwise. There are things I have to own and apologise for, but these are not among them.

They just made some very bad choices, folks.  We should totes give them a break. 

I regret I must start an apology with a qualification like that, but given the nature of the more extreme and spurious claims some have made, I have no choice. It would be disingenuine and even irresponsible of me to extend a blanket apology and include deeply reprehensible acts I have never committed nor would I ever commit.

I think what they’re trying to say here is ‘I would do anything for love... but I won’t do that.’

Also, if you need four flowery paragraphs of highfalutin language to start off your ‘apology’, you’re doing it wrong.

What I will apologise for are the places where I have failed and while they are not as many as claimed, they are dire

Now we begin the minimizing stage.  They admit to doing some things, but not everything, and even those some things are very small really.  Just a few things.  Yes, dire things but JUST A FEW THINGS.

I allowed myself to listen to voices that lauded me for drawing hard and sometimes arbitrary lines with people, showing swift cruelty, and forgetting there is a very real difference between flawed people who have made mistakes or even just poor choices and people who set out to knowingly do harm for its own sake

“Guys, I made some bad choices.  I was lead astray by other nebulous people.  Clearly they were the ones to guide me into these dire, terrible actions.  I apologize for them dragging me kicking and screaming down this awful path.”

What’s worse is that these are lessons I learned long ago, but I allowed myself to be comfortable and even lazy. I did not hold myself to my own standards and through my unwillingness to examine my own behaviours, I hurt others.

I hope you pause to meditate on the fact that this is why people say your behavior has never changed.  

There are times I have shown anger or drawn a line around spaces under my control and done so justly There is a time and place for anger. Like any emotion in a healthy volume and the right context, it has a role to serve.

The problem is, you are addicted to your righteous anger.  You go from 0 to 60 in 0.005 seconds, and when you blast people, you refuse to listen to them when they try to reason with you.  I’ve read the logs.  I’ve seen you run in, scream at people and when they try to placate you, continue to berate them.  

Your first reaction to anyone challenging you or ‘threatening your territory’ is to go nuclear.  Full blast nuclear.  And you do. not. stop.  You will continue to post about them for months.  Vagueposts sniping at them.  And you don’t just do it yourself, you command  your people like they’re your little army to avoid the people you’ve decided are on your Naughty List on pain of becoming your next victim.

That’s on you.  It is all on you.  No one else is to blame for this, no matter how you may try to blame your ‘choices’ on mysterious others in your life.

In many cases, what I did was apply that anger too broadly and too eagerly. I was too willing to see the hurt in response to my actions as a proof of guilt from the people I refused to see the simple human dignity of. I allowed people who I felt wronged me or people dear to me to become less than people in my eyes, something reserved only for the most awful of people, not individuals who simply commit some passing faux pas in a bad circumstance or, indeed, do nothing beyond some relatively minor violation of the social contract.

On this, we can agree.  Would that you had said this rather than all the shit above.

After a period of suffering genuine manipulation, abuse, and gaslighting by a truly vile person, I allowed my feelings of abandonment and outrage at an injustice to stew and mutate into a broad and directionless anger. No matter what happened, my failure to properly gauge my emotions and find healthy, positive outlets for those feelings was not just unacceptable, but my fault. What’s worse is that I sought and found help. I knew what I had to do, and it took me too long to begin the process of healing, a process entirely within my control. While I refused to heal, I indulged in pain and the social rewards that come from it. Not just my own pain but the pain of others.

More blame shifting.  Remember, folks, while they did hurt people, they were the REAL victim here.  

The worst part of all of this is that among the choices I made, they were not choices I made out some misguided belief or, in most cases, not even out of misinformation. They are things I did in spite of my own beliefs. If you asked me on a good day, I would tell you I believe it is absolutely critical to reach out to people you feel have wronged you and while it’s important to protect the things and people vital to you, you should never allow yourself to succumb to a hateful, tribalistic, ingroup/outgroup attitude without fully appreciating the harm that does not just to other people, but to yourself.

On a good day, if you asked me, I would tell it is absolutely crucial to be no one’s attack dog and to avoid people who celebrate the harm you do to others. I would tell you it is easy to build the support of people who see you as a vector for the harm they want to see done to others. I would tell you it is not just easy, but a passive process to become a threat to other people and that is the very last thing you should want to be. When I say I was overly comfortable and lazy, that is exactly what I mean. 

You know what they’re doing here?  Trying to be subtle about it, but definite blame shifting going on here.  They are blaming other people for jumping on the bandwagon THEY created.  They got off on manipulating public opinion about people, and are now blaming the very people they manipulated into feeling that way.  

Nice try, but i c wat u did thar.

I failed to be the better version of myself I have been. I can say I never set out to harm people specifically because I wanted to or I because I enjoyed the idea of punishing others, which I didn’t, but the effects of my actions are the same as if I had. I invited and engaged in unnecessary conflict to no gain, I meted out judgement where harmful, and I did all of this with the reassurance I would be rewarded in ways I never should have sought.

“See, folks, I just wanted the approval of other people.  So I hurt you because I sought out that kind of approval and it’s their fault for making me want their approval.”

In every instance of wrongdoing, I was a hypocrite. In allowing myself to see people as their failings, something I absolutely know is wrong, I justified a level of hostility that is not just inappropriate, but destructive to myself, to those around me, and of course to those on the bad end of that hostility. For that, I apologise from the bottom of my heart.

Furthermore, I need to apologise for the influence I’ve had. Beyond my actions themselves, I have helped create a culture of cyclical anger, division, and anguish that has done real harm to our community. Not only have my actions reflected poorly on my friends, who I can assure you are not supporters of those actions, they have fed into a subculture on Balmung of a deeply hostile and hateful moral rectitude. I contributed to an environment where people looking to do harm can and can do so largely without consequence.

You know, if you had just said this, I might actually believe you were sorry.  Unfortunately, this is buried in so much bullshit it’s hard to take seriously.

I can complain about there being absolutely false and completely groundless claims made about me, but it is my fault there is an environment for those claims to come from. Obviously, there are other bad actors in our community, but I am the only person I have control over and I have to accept my share of the blame for the culture I helped create and I am sorry. In different moments, I have tried to contribute constructively to the space we share and in others I have actively torn it down.

Like other things, it’s something I know better than to do. As has been said both to criticise me and to defend me, I have an old and long-buried history of being a malignant presence in another community. I am proof that people can grow beyond their immaturity, but that one still has to be vigilant about not falling into their old habits. It is a lesson I know and chose to ignore for temporary comforts.

I am sorry for allowing a kind of zeal to take hold in me that let me ignore the difference between a sexual predator or their defenders and people who simply briefly upset someone in some minor way. At my best, I hold myself to a high standard of proof and responsibility, aware that taking action against someone is harming them. It’s doing something they may have to carry with them for a long time and if we take that action wrongly, then we’re hurting someone without reason. At my worst, something I have shown far too much of, I allowed myself to stoop to the lowest standard of a bully, the exact kind of person I so comfortably and openly resent.

The problem with this line of thinking is... you’ve only managed to do it AGAIN. How is that proof of growing or changing?  You can’t even bring yourself to apologize properly, how is anyone to believe that you’ve changed at all?

I am also deeply and truly sorry to the people around me. My friends, both in my free company and not, have shown me a patience and grace that I certainly failed to show others. I am not just glad but lucky to have people around me willing to tell me when I have done wrong and all I can ask is that you not judge them by my worst actions. They and the community we have built together are surely better than I am and I can think of no better testament to that fact than the guidance and tolerance they have shown me.

I can agree with this up to a point.  Obviously most people in your FC are not to blame for your actions.  Though you should probably consider the kind of atmosphere you’ve fostered in your own FC.  Considering the testimony of many ex-,members, you made it pretty awful for them while they were in there.  Be better.  

There’s not a deep, meaningful takeaway I have to offer from any of this. I’m not saying any of this from some place of wisdom other than that of someone recently reminded I am not beyond succumbing to the worst inclinations common to all people, inclinations many people manage to avoid succumbing to themselves.

All I have left to say is that I am sorry. I have before, can now, and will later do better. In turn, all I can ask is that you give me the grace do so.

“I’m only human, folks.  Please leave me alone so I don’t have to really, truly, face up to my actions.” 

#abusive people #thelegendofkungjew #balmung

[ocean-skies]

open journal entry

I have definitely been struggling to write this all down... between my distractions and my pride, i have too much and not enough to write down. At first, I was going to completely dig up everything... I was gonna touch more on the toxic relationship I just removed myself from, and kind of vent about the existential i guess realizations i haven't really explained all of to anyone. i've been nervous about someone seeing my innermost thoughts(why not keep it to myself? kept in secret in my own journal) but maybe it can help someone to share some of it. maybe it will help me. or maybe i should do it just because it takes me out of my comfort zone. anyways, im just gonna jump into it and get hella personal before i overthink it more so if i know you personally, this isn’t exactly something I feel is healthy to dwell and talk on anymore after this. even though the story of the end of my relationship with my ex last month goes a long while before this, what started to turn my life upside down recently was when i started short term therapy, which i'm hoping to increase. i thought it would help to go to get some advice on coping with my anxiety, and secretly, to get some objective advice on what i was only beginning to suspect was a toxic relationship. my counselor pointed out to me the emotional manipulation i was being subjected to, and why i was letting it happen... she pointed me in a direction that would start to change my entire perspective on my life. when i told her about the way my mother is and was to me growing up, she pointed out to me how spot on the way i turned out ended up being when you're the daughter of a mother with narcissistic personality disorder. why i have so much anxiety and why i'm such a pushover and especially susceptible to not just attracting toxic relationships in my life, but desiring them. the familiar is most comfortable, whether it's what is healthy for us or not, and recognition of that has only been the first step. I began after this to really analyze everyone in my life, especially my gf at the time. I knew I was being taken for granted, and that i was not taking a lot of red flags as seriously as i should have. But I didn't even know where to begin to address it. The battles i faced daily for 18 years of my life shaped me into someone who avoids confrontation as a means of survival. i have gotten better, and i thought i was past the point of not being able to speak up and say no to things that make me uncomfortable, but it's still a struggle. as experiences where im taken advantage of make me ever more uncomfortable, i get a little closer each time to handling it the right way. Sometimes, it takes an especially frustrating experience to really push me, such as one i had with a new friend at a kickback who took advantage of my inability to be firm especially while intoxicated so she could continue unwanted physical sexual contact. i felt uncomfortably taken advantage of, as small of a transgression as it was, and it was because i recognized how weak i was through my submission to someone I was supposed to be comfortable with because of my fear of offense, of saying no. that same get together, i grew close with a girl i met there, and i started to repeat the toxic cycle I find myself in. right in front of me i saw myself growing towards someone absolutely unavailable, which i realized was one of my problems- i was seeking the (especially emotionally) unavailable. all of this happened throughout the end of may into june, while I was in an open relationship with my ex who barely talked to me, but that wasn't even the beginning of my journey with addressing what was in front of me with them and finding the strength to let go. It broke my heart to let go, and i still feel guilty to have been the one to ask for my ex back last january and then be the one to give up this last june, but i know what is going to be healthiest for me. I was fighting for someone emotionally unavailable who led me on that they could be open, and that they could change. I ignored all the early red flags, like the blatant and serious lying, feeling myself turn into someone I didn’t want to be, their serious inability to commit and lack of respect held for me as well as being taken for granted. Their inability to communicate, even when we needed it most and more lies and excuses for inexcusable behavior. I fell victim to the sweet promise of change, of going back to the way things were before true colors were shown. I ignored for so long what it meant when they could make time for their friends but never for me, not even when we had not seen or hardly spoken to eachother in weeks, with our interactions slowly diminished into them being glued to their phone when we would finally get to hang out, mostly ignoring my repeated attempts at conversation for a couple hours until they wanted me to fuck them. i feel sad that i put so much energy towards someone who wanted me to fight for them, who expected me to run after them, yet still refused to even look back or fight for me when i was the one leaving. refused to even react, just sit in their room and be fine. Its only been an affirmation of toxicity. giving up is hard for me, and giving up the love i feel for someone is the hardest decision i have ever made, but the sickness in my relationship made it easy, once i started to recognize it and see that I deserve an equally reciprocated love. i was stuck on all this for a while, but now the wounds are healing and i can assess the damage and try to grow. i have always had a big soft heart, a softness someone would be lucky to have despite the pain I have endured. But my heart is finally too tired of trying to be loved- it's grown cold in a way that that i'm reluctant to recover from. Ive come to terms that my mother will never love me unconditionally, and the same with my father, and with it is my drive to believe in and seek out a love like that elsewhere, a love that could match the kind I want so badly to give. I finally know what its like to have walls up in my heart that have a solid foundation, walls that even I, who alone knows every weakness in it, can see it as almost to impenetrable for comfort. I have no desire anymore for those who can't show me that i'm wanted just as equally in their life, a desire that has me leaving many behind. I've begun the recognition stage with everyone in my life now, and i'm learning the value of watching for the people who genuinely want me in their lives enough to make real effort and letting go of those who don't have my best interests in mind and can't participate in a healthy and equal giving/reciprocating relationship. but managing my relationships is only a small sliver of my journey, and counseling has taught me that. the solution to all of my problems lies within myself already. when i hit rock bottom i realized just how much weight i put into my relationships, and especially the wrong ones, and that has been a major building block for my journey. learning to love myself, by myself, is just as important to my healing process as identifying the issues that come from my upbringing. learning to peacefully live with myself, which includes my anxieties and shortcomings, is the only way to start a path away from choosing the wrong people in my life, and letting them affect me so greatly. i can't focus on someone else in the way they deserve without first coming from a healthy mindset ready to take on that challenge. i've been improving and working on that, and progress has definitely been good 👌🏼i'm no longer self harming and having ideations because of anyone else's actions, and i've finally got a crucial lesson through my head: nobody except for myself is going to make me better. no amount of anyone else's advice or support will make me secure enough in myself to overcome my anxiety, and i can't wait for someone to come along and help me, i have to do it myself and move on. because nobody will be there, that sign will never come and i only have myself for sure in my life, and only I can go that extra mile for myself. i have to work on the very way i think, and i can't blame myself for the steps i have to take to get there. it's hard not comparing my journey to someone else's but i have to remember that my journey towards happiness is mine alone, and learning to be happy alone is the first step. it's been hard for those who know me to understand when i work on being alone, and i do feel sorry for how not responding to them can make them feel but i know what i need to do in my daily life to work on overall happiness and to maintain my emotional individuality, as it's something i'm often too quick to give up. so that's it's for now, this was a long one lol and i don't think i'll edit it since i'm tired of writing so i'll start smaller stuff later 

#personal

[btsjeonjazz]

Favourite color: Black II pt. 1

Yoongi x reader

genre: Mafia!Yoongi, angst, violence

contents of violence, heavy words and so on

Thanks to the anon who requested a Mafia/Underground!Yoongi story, I hope you enjoy even though I changed the plot

word count: 11.4k

Does Min Yoongi stand for death or safety?

Right now it definitely was the first word to describe the rather cruel man and his actions who threatened you with your mother’s life if you wouldn’t obey his orders as he wanted you to. His plans for your further cooperation sounding strange. At first.

He crawled under your skin.

His pale, flawless skin, the silky hair which was so utterly soft under your hands as you touched it for the first time and those dark, unfathomable, but smart eyes, secrets and things you better not knew about hidden behind love filled pupils whenever he laid those brown orbs on you. His face was mostly cast in shadows, liking the way it turned all attention on him the moment he entered every room, human beings shaking to the core at his sight. People had more than respect for him, fear letting their faked smiles crumble if he spoke to them; unlike you. You never were afraid of him only his cruel actions at the beginning, found him fascinating and beautiful, especially the prominent scar which reached from his jaw down to his chest. The first time you had sex you were shocked, tracing your fingers over it slowly while tears strained your face. The night turned around and with the few words of his dark, raspy voice you stopped crying and felt nothing more than pure hunger for his body. He made it his goal to pleasure you and so did you and in no time you were head over heals for this man, his secrets slowly loosening around him. But let us start elsewhere; at the very beginning.

It was nearly a year you knew Yoongi by now and this period was exciting, full of sex and expensive presents you had never asked him to give you. The most precious one his undoubtedly strong bond to you, called love. You met differently than other couples do.

The club you partied your latest birthday at was full of good-looking people, men and women alike. You decided to give this evening a chance after a ruined day at work, your co-workers one hell of an annoying, smartass bunch of people. Your best friends gathered you let the party get started, drinking like crazy, making out with several guys and unluckily your best friend, to be more precise best female friend, too. Oh yes, when you partied then without regrets, that was your motto. You hadn't noticed Yoongi at first as he sat quietly waiting for someone at the bar, a scotch in his jewellery covered hand and a tall, pretty chick in his arm. Therefore you danced like crazy until early in the morning, drowning one shot after the other.

Your friends were long gone as you and the only remaining familiar face of your best friend lazily staggered out of the club at four in the morning, drunk as fuck and wobbling on your legs, the high heels you wore clearly a hindrance topping the alcohol in your bloodstream.

“I think..I have to puke”, your voice was weak in your ears and you weren't even sure you said these words as you helped your friend sit on some stairs while you wavered towards an alley one house further from the club to vomit all the liquor you gulped down tonight. The loud music was only a rustle in your ears, the alcohol numbing your senses as you turned the corner to step inside the alleyway. But ere you had the chance to hurl out your alcohol, your senses came rushing back a rapid speed, sobering up partly to swallow a scream at what you witnessed while standing in front of the lane.

Two men lay on the ground, blood straining their light shirts, eyes turned white as their pupils rolled to the back of their heads. Talking about their heads.. Well, one thing was sure, you weren't able to recognize them anymore. What made you turn white – despite the bloody bodies on the ground – was the man who stood in front of them, a knife in his pale hand, face turned towards the dead men, his face a mixture of deep satisfaction and disgust as he smiled down onto his doing. Behind him stood two other men, broad shouldered and expressions contoured in nothingness, coldness as if it was daily routine for them. His own face and clothes were sprinkled a dark red, drops of his victims' bloods turning his white shirt as well as his pale skin bizarre crimson. You were seriously drunk, even though this scene made you sober up a little, but completely, utterly drunk enough for your next thought. He is beautiful. You were no psychopath who liked such sort of things, but something in you was awake as you looked at him. Yes, your fear and the thought of running for your fucking life, so take those shoes off, collect your damned thoughts and run like the devil, your last bit of rightful thinking reprimanded you, but it was too late.

With that you crouched down, the cocktails and shots which were delicious a few hours ago, landing partly on your new shoes and partly on the ground beneath you. Wavering you fell on your hands, the remaining alcohol spreading around you. If you weren't that hazy, you would have ran instead of getting down and vomiting. But here you were, on your knees, witnessing a murderer and his deformed victims inside an alley while hurling out everything you had in you. By the time you finished, six pairs of furious eyes looked down on you. When did they come so close?

“She has seen too much for her to let her live”, a man's voice reached you, an octave too high for his tall body.

You were flinching, well as far as you thought so, trying to get back on your feet, thinking you had a chance to escape if you started to run. Funny, what a drunken mind could make up. As if you even could stand right now. It was only a blur from then on. Muffled voices discussed some issues around you as you started to hurl again. Why you? Why on your fucking birthday? And why the bugfuck were you so damn stupid to go alone? Not that you and your friend had a chance, but it would've made it a lot easier to die together, so you told you your own lie.

“Lift her up”, a dark, raspy voice made its way through your drunken mind, your head looking up only to see through a blurry vision, the alcohol letting you see the man in different shades, double or thrice in front of you. “She is too drunk to think straight anyway. So hurry the fuck up or do you want me to repeat my words, you fucktards? It's not an invitation, but an order”, his voice spit fire, making you flinch at the harshness of his words. Fear flooded your body, your bones and muscles wouldn't let you give them a command as you sat there, eyes wide with terrible anxiety of the upcoming event – even though you couldn't really see anything through the milky vision that blurred your view.

“D-don't kill me”, you whispered, voice stuck in your throat while you tried to slide your body further away, failing at the attempt because your body didn't move one bit. “I..I..”

“Shut up, will you?”, the same cold voice filled the air again. “You witnessed something nobody should have seen. What is a pretty girl like you even doing outside at this hour, behaving like a slut?”

Your muscles twitched, the need to run was too heavy, but still not a limb in your body moved. Trembling like hell you narrowed your eyes, hot, salty tears starting to roll down your cheeks. So that was it. Your life was at the end, although you hadn't started to live like you wanted to. Early twentieth, young, full of energy with an awesome family, but no more time than a few minutes.

“Make her forget, got it?”, the man shot you a grin, crouching down next to you. Up close you stared at his face, the last one you would see before his men would kill you, right? Why had he to be so beautiful? He had pale skin, almond eyes with a lot of darkness – and amusement? - inside them, his lips shaped in the form of a heart, pink, wet lips dyed in crimson colored drops just like the rest of his face. His hair was neatly combed, only a few parts standing high from the violent, disgusting murder he had done. It wasn't fair and despite your fear you collected every courage you had in your cell, shoving the alcohol to the side. You would die, okay, but not without leaving an expression this bloody idiot would ever forget. Adrenalin crawled into your veins, blood starting to boil with anger, pushing the fear aside.

“Listen, you bastard”, you started, voice not shaking, but a little slow, the liqiour from before making it difficult to form the sentences as sharp and fast as you wanted to. The man's eyebrows were cocked up, a spark of interest tracing his view as he tilted his head. “I don't care whose big boss you are or what your revolting goals might be, but it's sick, okay? You're fucking sick! And I don't have anything to do with you, got it? I'm not even sure if I.. I remember all of this by tomorrow”, up until now everything seemed to run smooth from your lips even though the man's expressions changed from confused to even more confused. You didn't care, in your head everything made perfect sense, although you bet that not the half of what you thought left your lips in the right order. “So, how about you let me go? I won't call the cops, I don't even carry a phone with me. And these dudes”, you made a sloppy movement with your hand towards the other two men behind him, “can go an' fuck themselves. If you dare to touch me, I will scream, bite or whatever, but leave me alone, you retards..”

“Big words from someone who stands of the verge of death”, the man snickered, a dark sound without any amusement at all. “Better shut your little mouth before I do.”

“As if I would, you fucker”, you mumbled, words getting difficult to form on your tongue, the adrenalin slowly vanishing and exchanging to fear again. “Get it on with then or you got no balls to kill me? Nice birthday, y/n, really nice birthday. After these dumb co-workers at work and a shitty day you come and ruin my super good night. Good fucking job, you trolls!”, you were angry, why had it to end right now? You definitely weren't ready although you told them right now they had no balls to end your life. How stubborn and stupid were you? Instead of trying to lull them in, you decided to make a riot to leave an expression. Your emotions mixing together, changing throughout the passing minutes.

The men straightened again and hovered dangerously over your weak body. He said something to his men what you couldn't define, the numbness slowly drifting to your senses again.

“See you, little girl”, the boss of them said, patting your head ere he stepped out of the alley, his black figure disappearing from your sight, screeching of breaks, a car door being shut and you were alone with them.

You shut your eyes, cursing yourself for not vomiting right there by your friend's side on the street and witnessing a murder, now facing the end of your life.

“Unbelievable”, Yoongi chuckled, his hands holding onto a wet tissue to wipe off the fucking blood of the two idiots who now lay dead inside the alley he left a few seconds ago. “How can such a tiny women be so aggressive? She couldn't even move, but her mouth was so loose, you won't believe me”, he said to the guy who was his best buddy and had picked him up as planned.

“She dead?”, he asked, wiggling his brown brows at Yoongi who just shrugged.

“I told them to beat her up so she would not remember anything she saw. No clue why, but her courage was so impressive, I couldn't let her be killed”, Yoongi said, the tissue turning crimson by now. “She wouldn't make any problems anyway, and if she tries she's deader than dead. The girl forgot she wore a handbag and you can bet I have her purse, name and address. Maybe I make her my new bitch or something.”

Both men chuckled at that thought, but Yoongi wasn't sure if it was just a joke or if he should visit you some time to see if you remembered him. And maybe you would cooperate and be his new toy for a while, who knew? Threats always helped reaching his goals.

Everything went dark the moment a rock hard fist landed on your temple. You had to concentrate yourself as your eyes fluttered open, light illuminating you. Am I dead? Is this the afterlife? But what is this awful noise next to your head? Pain. You definitely weren't dead as you tried to turn your head in the direction of the high pitched sound echoing through the room you lay in, your headache splitting your head as you opened your eyes fully. It was a hospital room, white walls, white sheets, cables and equipment of medicine lining the shelf in front of you, the smell of sanitizer and blood filling your nostrils.

Hallelujah you weren't dead!

You looked around, nobody in sight, only muffled steps and voices reaching through the closed door of your room. Your head fell back on the uncomfortable pillow beneath your head, the simple move letting your brain explode again. What happened to you? Sparks of a party night flooded your mind, droning music, shots without end and a dark path lining to an alley. Blackout. Again. You had birthday yesterday, the day was shitty, but the night awesome, friends making up for your lost hours in the bureau that afternoon. You knew, you had unbelievably much fun that night and went home with Alice, or didn't you?

“She's awake now!”, a woman's voice reached your ears, loud, high and full of relief. The door you hadn't heard opening closed behind three people storming inside the hospital room. “Baby, how are you? Are you hurt? What happened to you? Who did this to you? Please, tell us what for god's sake happened?” It was your mom, only she was able to ask as many questions at the same time without breathing.

“H-hey”, your voice was hoarse, your throat dry as the desert as you tried to speak up.

“Oh god”, it was your friend, Alice whose voice was loud now. “Y/n! Thank god, you're okay!”

Both women tried to hug you carefully, the catheter in your vein hindering them to fully embrace you. “I'm..fine.” You sounded awful, as if you had screamed, cried or whatever, voice cracking up after such simple words.

“Miss y/l/n, how are you feeling?”, another, strange voice was heard behind your mom and friend, manly, loud. It was the doctor.

You contemplated, how were you feeling? Despite those merciless pains in head and throat, you felt good. “If I can get painkillers for..my h-headache and a glass of water, it's okay.”

“Right away”, the doctor smiled at you, his dark hair strained with some grey wisps. “I will send a nurse with your needs and will be back for a check-up after your visit leaves for a bit.”

You nodded, a fatal mistake. Your brain felt as if it was leaking out your ears, the pressure inside unbearable. Hopefully the nurse was flying over ere you died of a migraine.

“You have to tell us what happened!”, your mom pressed further, her voice octaves too high and loud for you right now.

“If I would know, I would tell you, mom. But please, be quiet, my head..”

“I'm so sorry, baby”, she responded in a whisper, sitting down next to you on the small chair a typical hospital room always was furnished with. “We were just so worried about you. Some nice man found you yesterday night a few houses away from the club you two partied in”, her hand moved in Alice's direction, who looked deep in concentration, her eyebrows knitted over her round eyes. “You were bleeding on your temple, vomit all around you”, the first sniff. “Luckily he found you and called an ambulance the instant he saw you, who knows what folk would have done if they had found you like this!” And she was crying. You understood her worries, if it were her or Alice or some other friend of yours you would have found unconsciousness in the hospital you would be as agitated and shaken, too.

“It's okay, mom. I had a bunch of drinks and might have been knocked out by accident”, you tried to sooth her ruthless mind, hand holding hers. Not even you believed the shit you just told her. As if something could knock you out by accident.

Her sniffling got harder until she sobbed for a few minutes, the nurse interrupting her waterfall as she was asked to stay outside as long as my headache didn't go down. She brought you medicine and after good twenty minutes everything slowly mitigated and your mother and Alice were allowed to come in again. By the time did your mother stop crying, your friend holding her in her arms as long as you couldn't sit straight. You told them what you remembered, but that wasn't much, so your mom decided to get some tea for you while Alice took a seat, face gone pale as she looked at you.

“Y/n, don't you remember anything?”, she asked, her hand laying on yours, eyes concerned as she rubbed over your skin.

“Only what I told you, but don't you know anything? We went home right? Why were we separated in the first place?”

Alice was quiet ere her eyes opened wide. “You and I went down a few metres outside the club, and you had to puke, y/n! We sat down and you went straight to, I don't know where to, to vomit out the alcohol.”

Pictures formed in your head, blurry, vaguely drawing a person with dark eyes. A cold shiver ran down your spine as you remembered someone's oculars, cold, scheming with a spark of amused interest. Then you saw yourself on the ground, vomit all around you, even on your new shoes, glistering in the street lamp..crimson on pale skin. You shook your head. Which memories were planted in your head? Definitely not yours!

“Yeah, and then something hit my temple”, you said, rubbing over your face. It was useless to reconstruct the scenes from yesterday, maybe later, but you were so exhausted right now that every time a piece of important memory slipped just through as you tried to grab it.

“You seriously have to thank the man who found you. He saved your life. Okay, maybe it wasn't that heavy, but your mom's right. Who knows what other people would have done if they would've found you there? A scantily dressed girl, drunken and past out in some alley..”, she shuddered at the thought and so did you.

“Is he here in the hospital?”, you asked her, curious about the 'hero', who decided to safe you from some folk ere it was too late.

“Yeah, he's down in the cafeteria waiting for you to wake up while calming down you mother. Unlucky that your dad is abroad for work right now”, the girl with the light her smiled weakly at you, trying to calm you as well, but you were perfectly calm. Lost memories getting on your nerves. Why couldn't you complete the puzzle inside your head? Drunk and hit wasn't the best friend of consciousness, that's for sure.

A soft knock on your door your mother entered the room again, a smile on her face, her eyes swollen. “Y/n, I brought a visitor you should be thankful for”, she said holding the door for a man, a few years older than you, pale white skin glancing underneath a black shirt, black suit pants and black shoes, his thatch a color opposing to his flawless skin. You saw a scar going down from under his cheeks to the hem of his shirt, disappearing underneath it, his eyes narrowed to the ground while a faint smile pulled the edges of his pink lips up. His oculars slowly darted towards you, dark eyes, smart, calculating with a spark of uncountable secrets focused on you. Grim reaper, a small voice inside your head screamed with all its might, blasting, roaring, howling with everything it got: RUN! You had to hold your head as one picture pushed trough everything that flooded your mind. Crimson on his face, drops of blood running down his handsome features as he said something to you, his voice darker than the night – Grim reaper – making you shudder in your bed, cold sweat forming in the palms of both your hands. The voice in your head wouldn't shut up, a mantra repeating, Grim reaper, run, Grim reaper, beautiful. Over and over and over again until he opened his mouth, a voice dark, raspy filling the room. “I'm glad you're awake by now.”

You stood in the alley, the only light illuminating it from the street lamps behind you. Two deformed bodies laying on the ground in front of three men; one holding a knife, the other two big guys, seeming like bodyguards while the other looked at you as you hurled your insides out in front of you. His voice echoed through you, fear building inside your whole body which trapped you, pray for the lions. A command followed, a gentle pat on your head as a door closed and a car drove away with full speed. Then one of the big guys reaches down, grinning crazily as he knocked you out. Blackout. Hospital room.

It was silent, the bastard who stood in front of you cocking his brows up, contemplating how much you knew after what happened to you. Everything, you asshole, you spit with your eyes, not saying a word, too afraid he might pull out the knife from yesterday and kill your mom or Alice if you opened your mouth. It was a battle you fought with him, staring in each others eyes, and you wouldn't be the one avoiding your gaze first.

“Sit down, Mr. Chen”, your mom invited him to sit right next to you on the chair she sat on before. “Don't hesitate, y/n is a little shook right now.”

You observed his every step, his gaze politely on your mother. At least the silent battle you had won. He was too close as he sat down, your voice stuck in your throat, limbs tensed and cramped under the blanket. What now? Did he come to kill you now? Wasn't it enough for you to feel this fear yesterday? Why? Just why had he to come here again, disguised as the superhero who oh so rescued you, not the one who got you in this situation in the first place.

“Do you mind letting us alone for a while?”, you spoke faster than you thought, the knot in your throat repressing your usual voice as to why it sounded forced even to you.

In no time Alice and your mother exited the room, leaving you alone with the guy who let his big guys take care of you, who murdered two men in an alley and who is definitely about to take your life as well. The same feeling that numbed your limbs yesterday was taking its toll on your now again.

“How are you feeling today?”, he broke the silence – Mr. Chen?

Flinching at his voice your nostrils blew a little, fear and strong, heavy fury running through your veins. “Fuck off, you dirty fucker.”

“Harsh words to your one and only saviour”, faked disappointment and sarcasm lacing his dark voice. “Manners, my cute little girl, mean that you should be thanking me and not insulting the one who rescued you from a dirty lane, laying on the ground, bleeding in your own vomit.” He pulled his brows back up, a mocking smile exchanging the faint one he shot towards your mother a moment ago.

You felt furious, veins pulsating with hatred more than you felt anxiety. Bloody hell, you would face this man as the grim reaper he is, not flinching if he pulled out a razor sharp knife, but instead of threatening you for your own life, he started to chuckle. The sound ringing in your ears making you shudder.

“I didn't come here to murder you”, he spit fire. “I want to offer you something you aren't allowed to decline, little girl.”

“That is not an offer, you bastard. This would be a threat. Learn your own conditions ere you come here and try to pull something”, your voice was reserved, drawing attention to the obviousness of your words with a pulled eyebrow. Big confidence y/n. Better shut up.

The man grinned, seemingly liking your bold attitude towards him. “Sure”, his deep voice echoed quietly through the room. “Listen, I'm here in person and that should be honour enough, you showed backbone, resisted me and mocked my men and myself. You think you get through with that without suffering a loss? I answer it for you. No, you are not.” He folded his hands on your bed, chin laying on them as he observed you, eyes filled with interest and the mocking amusement he showed you even yesterday. “What do you think about being my company for official occasions in my kind of territory? It's not easy being a bad ass boss if every woman you meet is afraid of you, boring. Unlike you. I don't like beating around the bush, little girl. Do it or you won't hinder me in getting to know your lovely mother a bit more.”

His severe threat hung in the hospital room, its stench overwhelming even the strong smell of the sanitizer. The smirk of his mocking, challenging and superior, knowing your answer before you started to think your possibilities through.

Your breath was stuck in your hurting throat at the thought this cruel man would touch your mother or anybody else who you loved, making you sick. Of course you had to agree, he knew it as he spoke out the worst of words.

“Don't. Touch. Her!”, your voice was cold as ice, eyes showing what you felt; hatred. “If you do, I will chase you in your dreams, Mr!”

The man clapped his hands, snickering at your words. “I chose you exactly because of your loose mouth, keep going”, he grinned, pearly whites showing for your display. “After your stay some of my men will escort you further.”

He stood up, the chair pushed back while smirking down at you. Shudders ran down your spine, you felt like vomiting and as you were finally alone in your room again tears rolled down your face. Sobs filled the small room, violently you tried to muffle them with your hands around your mouth. This short visit crushed your whole life. You knew that everyone close to you would be at danger if you would've protested against him. Up until now you had no idea what this man's business contained, his name or the reason he chose you for his cruel, sick games, but one thing you were confident about: He could try to make your life a living hell, but the first time he would show you his back he was dead meat.

Your tears still flowed down as Alice and your mother entered the room again, chatting ere they saw you. They had a hard time calming you down, your breath hitching as you wiped off your tears. Both women asked you out, but you wouldn't say anything this man did or said, he had seen your closest friend and family. If you didn't behave and obeyed whatever his next command was you knew that he wouldn't hesitate taking whatever you loved from you. You had seen it ins his eyes, shocking cruelness, no fear of consequences.

After your visitors left, you felt ice cold, limbs cramped, but you were determined that nothing this man did would make you and your hatred falter.

Yoongi was late. He visited you an hour ago completely forgetting his next meet up to make business with his typical client and friend. Light-footed he walked to the door of the old building Hoseok would wait in to conclude the contract he had talked Yoongi in. His thoughts were elsewhere, but business first, so he shook his thatch, signature cold mask his expression as he stepped inside the building, two big guys behind him.

“Min Yoongi”, a familiar voice greeted him, the face of the man in front of him as handsome as ever. “Long time no see.”

“Three days”, Yoongi answered, crossing his arms in front of his black shirt. “Have the papers?”

Hoseok sighed, nodding as he pulled a white sheet out of the metallic case in front of him. It was a contract of a bunch of weapons illegally shipped to the two dumb guys who now lay seven feet under the earth. They tried to interfere in his business deals, threatening him to take everything he loved from him. Too bad he loved nothing more than money, and money was so easy to get back to. But he wouldn't let anybody live who even tried to form the words of a threat towards him. Never. Well, at least not as long as they weren't you.

Three days ago Hoseok coaxed him into dealing with these two fuckers, guaranteeing him that he would get fifty percent of the commodity as well as forty percent of the upcoming profit if Hoseok's other business contract was a success. But Yoongi knew that dealing with weapons wasn't the best income the underground scene worked with right now. Organ trade and the newest technical gadgets which could crack important persons' bank accounts were the shit on the black market right now. He knew it as he was the one who started this kind of trade a few years ago, but Hoseok and the other clients of his didn't know how mighty Yoongi really was. They would only start to avoid him or worse, trying to kill him to get access of his belongings. Although he knew the man who stood in front of him better than anyone else,he should never know which field Yoongi usually played on. The league certainly too dangerous for him.

“Fifty percent of the trade and forty of the money I earn with the next one”, Hoseok said, looking at Yoongi who signed the piece of paper with his signature autograph. “It's always a pleasure to make a deal with you, Yoongi.”

Yoongi grinned, his eyes unfathomable as he watched the handsome man in front of him shoving the sheet inside the case again before he reached out his hand. “Sure thing, but don't you think to change from weapons to a new scene? It brings in more money than this kind of market, Hoseok.”

The other man shook his head. “Not going to happen. It's too dangerous.”

He didn't quite get him. Too dangerous? Underground scenes were always on thin ice. You knew how to use men and women, guns and traps? You live. Trying to deal with the big fishes without having backup or an empire behind you? You're dead. There's no in between. Either you side with the mighty or you lose everything that you hold dear. Yoongi had to experience this kind painfully early, with the age of fifteen.

His father was the boss of several scenes on the black market, but after he lost a few of important partners and teamed up with a weak, old man who claimed to be the big boss of one company abroad he had lost it all. First his mother, his father's second wife, shot in the head as she drove with Yoongi to his piano lessons with age thirteen. Then Yoongi's older brother who was a loser, a weak nerd who decided to study abroad, medicine his only passion. He was found dead, shredded to a mess, inside a warehouse of the man his father thought was the boss of a firm. He had given him everything and as Yoongi turned fifteen he had the choice himself. Working with that cruel bastard who murdered his brother and killed his mother as he was present or getting shot by one of his own gun. His father coaxed him into choosing death as he was forced to give his whole money, buildings and family to this fucker, losing everything he owned and loved to someone who claimed to be fragile but turned out to be the western underground boss.

As you can see, he didn't chose death like his father. No, Yoongi first shot the man who gave him life and then reached out for his own head, the western boss laughing like hell at him. Yoongi just grinned, almost pulling the trigger as this retard was so dumb to turn around, clapping like a seal and insulting the young boy's family honour with phrases such as: “His mother was the perfect whore! Fucked here the evening before I let her head explode. Now look at this child, brave enough to shoot his father and a coward to chose death! Hilarious!” It was his own wife he talked to as it was a dinner only the both of them were invited to. This man wasn't afraid of him. Until another loud shot filled the expensive furnished house of him.

“Oh, I'm sorry, but it seems that your wife's head just exploded like my mother's did”, Yoongi chuckled, the gun firing a salve of bullets in the man's direction, hitting his shoulder several times. One bullet left, Yoongi lazily slandered forward, reaching the body of the man's wife, kicking her bleeding head ere he smiled coldly. “Guess it is time to say good-bye.”

“What the fuck you son of a bitch! You're dead meat if I call-”

The last bullet fired into the throat of the talking man who held his shoulder as he kneeled beside his dead wife.

“Who do you want to call now? Too late old man”, Yoongi said, patting the man's head as blood streamed out his throat. Maybe five or ten minutes and not a sound would be heard out of his body.

Just then Yoongi let the gun fall to the ground, feeling the stinging pain behind his eyes he felt as he heard from his brother's death or stood next to his mother's coffin. But he swore as he searched for a box of matches that he would never shed a tear for something he loved a second time. If it's gone, then so it should be, but nobody and he swore that by his own name, nobody would take anything from him, ever again.

After he burned the house down he was determined to build his own empire, be the boss of every damn human being and start his own business. And that was the beginning, a lost family and a promise to himself made him the man he was today. Some might say he was cruel, had no heart and was ice cold, a beast who thirsted for money, but it wasn't like he had a chance to be someone else. Therefore he helped out at whatever charity he laid eyes on, gave his employees enough money to have a huge family and had a dog at home. It gave two sides of him, but he would never admit the one to anyone who had a beating heart. Whatever could be done with money was done by him.

“Are you even listening?”, Hoseok's voice woke him up, shaking him out of his grumpy thoughts about his past.  

“Of course I am”, Yoongi scoffed at his friend and partner who pulled his eyebrows up.

“Great then it's set. I introduce her to you, but be nice, yes?”

Blinking he nodded, too proud to tell Hoseok that he wasn't listening actually, caged in his past as he was talking about someone he addressed with 'her'. He didn't care, shrugging his shoulders while he said his farewell to Hoseok.

“See you next week at the audition then”, he said, leaving the handsome man behind to get into the expensive car that parked in front of the old building's entrance.

Next week.. Audition.. He sighed, massaging his temples whereas he thought about the possibilities and dangers about next weeks event. Yoongi held this audition, deals with the highest valued trades concluded with powerful people, women and men alike. As the host everyone expected the most beautiful or sexiest accompany and he was lucky that he found you. Not just that, but exclusive food, costly champagne and the best entertainment program the city had to offer from him as he was the biggest fish right now. The threat and the murder you witnessed should be enough to let you stay put at least this night. He'd never concede the fact that he needed you, his honour stood on the edge if the others saw him alone wherefore it gave you. Obviously he would be able to be escorted by models, singers or actresses, but he found a liking at your loose mouth and the way you didn't fear his appearance, yet, although you had seen him at his worst – or best what he could do. Of course he had the most influence in this scene and the ground they walked on belonged to him, but one small rumour and the underground scene would go wild around him.

Yoongi had witnessed this several times, people with power falling down because of one small mistake, a wrong word or a fatal trade. His family the best example. Therefore he would visit you at your home in a few days.

The car parked in front of his house, the huge, electronic fence with electroshocking effect open for him. At home he called his men to escort you not to his mansion, but to your own home. He wanted you on 'friendly' terms and not dead after your next meet up, his patience utterly thin as he received a message he didn't expect.

Two beefy, grumpy men explained that they had the command to bring you home that night, visitors time long over as you tried to close your eyes to get some rest. In vain. They barged in as if they owned this place and your heart sank to the bottom of the ocean. You struggled to keep up with their pace, legs wobbling while your head still felt as if it would split in the middle. The anxiety in your bones paralysing your movements as you stumbled forward.

“Move, bitch”, one of the retards turned your way, his eyes cold and you bet he was pissed that he had the task to escort a young woman, a nuisance for his big, important plans. You scoffed at him. “If the boss doesn't kill you, I will the time he releases you out of his grip.”

“Try”, you mumbled while the three of you reached a costly, black van in which you were pushed in.

The time you set food inside your apartment you fell down, the floor hard and cold under your face. Exhaustion, pain and fear made your body tremble. You weren't afraid of the man who did all this to you, of the two bad boys down the stairs in front of your home or for your own life. Hours you spent thinking about a way to just escape, but it was useless. He knew your name, address, your parents address and also Alice's. How could you just go and leave them in his hands? Right, you couldn't. And this was the only fear that cramped your limbs. Losing your whole heart to a cruel man's sick plans.

With tears falling down your cheeks onto the ground, you felt darkness surrounding you, sleep slowly creeping its way inside your head. Relieved you exhaled, until nightmares made your sleep another terrible place you thought you could hide in for a while.

To your positive surprise was the rest of the week completely silent. No sick freak in sight, no annoying co-workers as you had the rest off, no damn person getting on your nerves while you curled up under a blanket on your couch, your favourite TV-series playing on the screen, but you did everything but watch it.

Your thoughts roamed to the night your life started to turn. It was five days ago, your bruises vanishing and mind still hazy whenever the bell rang, your phone vibrated or a loud noise woke you up at night. Several friends had asked if they should keep you company after what happened, but you immediately denied every request, too afraid that the bastard would take them a hostage of your obedience as well.

By time you had developed a deep feeling of fear of every sound on the street, the thought of him seeing you inside your apartment huge as you turned the TV's volume up, the loud speakers deafening the noises of cars, steps and the ringing bell. You shrieked as you heard it. Neither your mom nor anybody else had called you for a visit wherefore you didn't move an inch. And there it was again and again until you heard a key turn in the lock of your door, your stomach turning upside down as you jumped up.

Nobody owned a copy of your key, not even your parents! Adrenalin shot through your veins, the pyjama's shorts so tiny that the autumn air in your apartment made your hair stand up. Luckily you had the bright idea to shop at the nearest hardware store, an axe, a baseball bat and several boxes of nails which you laid out at night under the carpets lining from the front door to the living room. In the blur of the five seconds you had time you snatched the baseball bat, the axe which was far more efficient, hidden underneath your bed, but you had no time to get it right now.

“Whoever there is, I dare you to push the door open”, you shouted through the dark corridor, your position slightly crouching, bat held up high, ready to hit the person invading your private rooms. But there was only one man on this planet you had in mind. “I count to three and if you leave I refrain from calling the police!” Useless threat, you knew it yourself. Whoever wanted to do something to you could just do that. You were a woman, young and without the strength to fight against a man.

A deep chuckle rang through the door, his voice as dark as you heard it the last time inside the hospital room. Shudders and cold sweat ran down your back, your eyes wide with shock although you knew it already. Who else would be so polite to break in with a key?

“Go away!”, you cried out, rushing to the still closed door to throw your body against it. “Talk through the fucking door or leave!”

Silence. You waited there, body clinging on the door-handle for whole five minutes before you slowly separated yourself to look through the small peep-hole. It was dark, your brows furrowed, but ere you could react the door was pushed open with a strong heave, your face colliding with the wooden material letting you stumble back, falling down with the baseball bat in your hand.

“You're too stubborn, little girl”, his voice was heard inside your home while you rubbed your nose and opened your eyes. There he stood, the darkness around him letting his pale skin glow as it reflected the soft light of your living room's lamps. His arms were crossed in front of him, eyebrows pulled up, the typical smug smirk plastered on his damn handsome face. “I even rang the fucking bell for you to open the door, but what did you do? Ignore me!”, he chuckled, an inside joke? “Luckily I made a copy of your key. So, ready to talk things through?”

You didn't move, jaw dropping as he just walked passed your body, kicking the bat out of your hand – he hurt your skin with his bugfucking black boots – ere he sat down on your couch as if it was his own. Without moving your body your head turned towards the man who casually crossed his legs, arms spread out on the rest while tilting his head in your direction. You contemplated of running, but a picture flashed inside your head: Alice and your mom laying on the ground of an alley, faces deformed while he stood in front of them with the corpus delicti.

“Come here or do you think I will shout it all?”

Flinching at his loud words you gritted your teeth, the rude comment swallowing down while you stood up, the bat too far from you to grab it without notice.

“What do you want?”, you spit at him as you leaned against the frame of the door never letting him out of your hatred filled eyes.

“Oh girl”, he said as if it was a lazy thursday evening and he ordered food to talk about the newest episode of your shared favourite TV show, not about his sick actions and threats towards you. “I came to introduce myself and my world to you.”

“I don't even care who you are. Leave my family alone, you sick freak”, you trembled while you heartbeat increased with every phrase of his. It made you uncomfortable to listen to his melodious calm voice, because it was strangely dark, beautiful in your ears.

The man laughed again, his pearly whites showing and you had the feeling that he looked a thousand times younger, rather cute with an actual smile on his face. “First of all, keep that attitude, like it. But most importantly here, I'm Min Yoongi, not Mr. Chen, it's just an anonymous name. The underground scene is my territory and workplace. You could say, I'm the biggest catch on the black market right now, not even the Western Mafia is able to take my business down as I burned theirs to ashes a while ago”, he sounded so full of himself while you started to crunch your face, his words made no sense for you. The police busted the crime scene of all drug lords, the black market and arrested the bosses of all underground activities two years ago. So it was nonsense he tried to tell you wherefore you chuckled the more you thought about it.

It was one thing to be the hostage of a cruel man, but he was a freak. Lunatic, caged inside his own fantasies of being an underground king. He was dangerous, unpredictable as he turned out to be more psychotic than you imagined.

“I'm sorry Min Yoongi, but you are extremely sick in your brain, right? Better tell me a lie I can believe and don't try to fog my mind with your cute story about being a big fish. I don't believe that shit”, you laughed, holding your stomach, the previous adrenalin clouding your rightful judgement as you looked at him. You were the insane one to seemingly laugh at him about his fake name and identity and maybe it was time to shut up y/n.

“Are you laughing at me right now?”, his voice was dangerously quiet, all senses of amusement gone. His eyes were narrowed, darkness filling them as he silently stood up, his steps large, bringing his body closer to your own.

You nodded, wiping off a tear as you calmed down from your adrenalin lead outburst about his dumb story. But before you could fathom what happened next, you were pressed violently against the frame you leaned on, a big, veiny hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing as to why you had hard time breathing, every noise stuck in your pressed throat. Wide eyes locked with Yoongi's furious ones, making you stop every movement in one go. This distance allowed you to see the light scar you had already witnessed in the hospital room, the dark light around you swallowing its sight from you until now.

“Nobody is laughing at me, got it? Not you, nobody who has a fucking beating heart”, his voice was soft, far too calm for your liking. “Believe it or not, if you try anything again, might it be not opening your fucking door or mocking me, your pretty face wouldn't be as pretty anymore. Better write it on your list, little girl, before I lose my temper the next time”, after he emphasised the word 'fucking' his voice got an octave lighter, loud words ringing in your ears as it was impossible to breathe, his hand heavily strong enclosed around your throat. “Answer me.”

It was everything but a nod, even though he understood and let your aching body go. With a thud you landed in front of his shoes, holding your throat while you inhaled more oxygen than necessary. Slight coughs filled the room whereas Yoongi didn't move away from his position, feet touching your bare knees on the floor.

“I'll never apologise to you, y/n”, he whispered your name the first time which let you look up, his face cast in shadows again, eyes hidden by the darkness around him. “Now stand up and listen carefully.”

Wobbling your stood up, the first time seriously afraid of him. The story of his seemed to be true, but you didn't want to believe it with all your senses.

“Don't look at me with those eyes”, another whisper, honesty and pain in it which made you confident that he had a split personality.

“Talk”, you said weakly, taking a seat in the armchair across from the couch he sat on. You watched him intensely, his movements, his eyes, his lips at his next words, attentive to little details. He had pale skin, flushed by the action, clothes as dark as before, but the metallic case he had with him new.

“As I already told you. My name is Min Yoongi, don't ever call me 'Mr. Min' if you're alone with me. To be honest, I don't know why, but I see potential in your loose mouth. You're not afraid of myself, my actions another category. I like that and need an accomplice for some expensive trades with a client abroad”, he started his explanation, the doubts about the truth of his words slowly disappearing which let you glance at him wonderingly. “I don't want you to interfere in my business, just hold your eyes open whenever I tell you to. This weekend, saturday night to be precise, is an important audition and I get the feeling a spy is following me wherefore I need you.”

He was kidding, right? Why you? And why not one of his god damn employees? You were pretty sure he had plenty of women lining the alley to his door. But ere you could speak up he motioned you to stay put and listen further.

“You're unknown, not the least suspicious unlike other women who are content with that kind of business. If you're a nice little girl and follow my rules I let you free if the rat is caught and as dead as the other two whose bodies you witnessed. They played on my ground, killed the family of one of my men, kids and women alike.”

You swallowed the knot in your throat. The last fact rushing passed you as the only thing in your mind were his first words. I let you free if the rat is caught.. Your family and friends would be save again as long as you played by his rules. Free after his enemy was caught. The part with killing him shoved to the furthest corner inside your head you nodded slowly.

“What if you don't find him?”, your question hang between your head a few seconds before Yoongi leaned forwards, elbows laying down onto his legs. The smug grin was back as he never left your face with his dark, now light illuminated eyes. You saw it, challenge, confidence and something your couldn't define burning behind his oculars.

“You really think I won't be able to find him?”, he asked quietly, voice amused again, the outburst of both of you forgotten. “Make sure to do as I say and watch out for a special person when I tell you to on saturday and if you do a good job you're ready to leave that night already. Deal?”

You heard yourself enthusiastically shouting a word before you could realize it was your voice you heard. “Deal.”

“A few conditions have to be talked about and then I let you alone with your thoughts”, his voice mocked you, grin spread over his teeth. But he was right, you would think about everything if he left, especially about being save after saturday – if you were lucky enough.

“Go on already, I don't have the whole damn night”, you tried to masquerade the bit relief that crawled on your face, looking pissed was way better, keeping up the face of a strong woman without emotions.

Yoongi leaned back again, his arms wrapped around the rest a second time this night while he inhaled, looking at you with unfathomable dark eyes without saying a word. Nervously you fidgeted in your seat, his intense gaze let your hands sweat, heart racing.

“Don't mock me, little girl. It's fatal”, Yoongi started his excursion about how to behave and what to do if he was present. “Don't talk to anybody if not necessary at the audition. I'll tell you if you can, and by god, don't disagree with my story about you. One wrong word.. Further you should stay at my mansion as long as he isn't caught, after saturday, if we did not find him. It's far more dangerous for you and your family if they know where you live, let alone knowing your face.”

Encouraging, Min Yoongi, you thought, crossing your arms in front of your chest as you listened to his conditions. Up until now you couldn't disagree with him, except for the point of agreeing with every insult he might throw at you if you're surrounded by his people. Okay, maybe there was a second aspect.

“I won't move in with you. Not for a second. Mhm”, you stated your opinion with a fanning movement of your hand. “I can understand your points that it's dangerous, but I gladly accept that.”

“Don't be stupid. You wouldn't even get a glance on me, just stay there and be ready to be my personal detector”, he responded, the tone of his voice not allowing any disobedience.

“You really think I believe every word that comes out your mouth?”

“Do it or not, if you're ready at seven on saturday that's enough for the beginning”, Yoongi shrugged his shoulders, seemingly not caring about your objections. “Now shut up and listen again. You will be escorted by the two guys you already had the pleasure meeting. They sit inside a car near your house to protect you for two days. Ignore them and the most important condition is: Open eyes and obeying my orders. I contact you if something changes till saturday.”

Your lips formed a thin line while you nodded. You could start a discussion with him, the rage in your veins pooling at the edges, the bit restraint you had pushed back with force. The fact that he held you on a leash drove you crazy, but what should you do? It wasn't your life you were afraid about, but your families and friend's. Therefore you nodded stiffly, neck restraining to form this simple action.

“Perfect. I have your number and call you tomorrow. If you want something ask Ron or Mike downstairs”, with that he stood up, eyes darting around your room for the first time that night. “Meek apartment, y/n. And here I thought you could have at least a bit of fashion sense.”

“Oh, I dare you to mock me right now. You piss me off, your conditions stupid, so leave finally”, you had enough. The short visits shattered your nerves. His chuckles the icing, but as you reached out to push him forward you stopped dead in mid-air. What were you doing? Touching the enemy?

He didn't say another word as you followed his dark figure through the even darker corridor to the front door ere he stopped, his hand on the doorknob. “Just a tip. Don't use a baseball bat against burglars, you're too weak and would hurt yourself. See?”, his head pointed towards the scratch he had caused on your skin as you sat on the floor with the bat in your hand.

“It was your boot, you retard and now go”, you shoved him out, touching the leather jacket of his, feeling the heat radiating through the fabric as to why you flinched back. The spot your palms made contact with his clothes slightly tingling. Disgusted you wiped them off on your shorts while the door fell in its lock. After a few minutes of silence you exhaled.

The endings of your nerves still twitched after he was long gone, his manly cologne intoxicating your apartment even through the closed door that lead to your bedroom. You couldn't bring yourself to close your eyes to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep rather shoved yourself of your bed to slander to the bathroom across the floor. Your reflection blinked a few times, strange, happy tears grazing your cheeks at the thought of an end to your nightmare.

Five fucking days felt like five years as you wiped your tears with the back of your hand. Min Yoongi..his name rang in your ears, a silent mantra inside your clouded mind like a warning signal, bright lights blinking as if it was a neon sign signalling customers to enter an open bar. Min. Yoongi. Yoongi. Something gnawed on you, a thought you couldn't really touch while you splashed cold water in your face. Drops of wetness flowed down your flushed face, the previous encounter let you feel too much. Too many different emotions. Unbearable fear as he squeezed down your throat, relief at his words of your freedom, disgust at his conditions to stay with him after saturday was over. Not even compressed they fit inside your brain!

“Play along, y/n, then you're free. If he holds his words though”, you talked to yourself, calming your electrified nerves while you reminded yourself that it could be over if you just made a good job as his 'companion' for the night. Hopefully you could recognize the described person, busting its damned plans and happily walked away.

Plan all set you smiled encouraging at your reflection, the shot grimace not even a resemblance of a smile wherefore you flinched back. You gave up the tries of being a positive person as you lazily set one foot after the other towards your bedroom. This night was a haze of peaceful sleep, his – you claimed it to be one – promise lulling you in, your mind at ease as you thought about his words..let you free.. After nights with maximum two hours of sleep it felt like heaven as you woke up to the sunshine illuminating your room, determined to call your parents and invite Alice over before you may start as Min Yoongi's, an underground lord's, accompany for his business event, a detector of his enemy.

“No way, y/n! You can't live alone anymore. And by the way would I feel so relieved to know you at my place”, Alice was angry, her beautiful face red from anger. She tried to coax you in living with her a few blocks down the street. Again. Alice was on the opinion that you weren't safe anymore after the incident on your birthday, the icing that you hadn't made contact to her after you got home, ignoring her messages and calls intentionally, but that was a secret.

“God, Alice, please calm down. I'm perfectly fine”, you rolled your eyes back to your head, hand holding onto hers as she looked at you with the most worried expression.

“No way”, she repeated, her face contoured in determination to make you come with her. “Tell me one thing why you shouldn't move in with me. I mean, shared rent, your best friend always around you, not eating one more dinner alone”, she smiled, her eyebrows cocked up high.

“I-I like my apartment?”, your argument sounded weak and it was an obvious lie. Alice knew how much you hated living here, the house cold in the winter, hot in the summer, small and loud, but it was cheap. And of course you had contemplated to ask her if you could live in cohabitation, but not now. If everything was over, then you would be happy to agree with her suggestion.

“Yeah, right, y/n and I-”

You door bell rang, interrupting your friend mid-sentence. Stiff you walked to your door, expecting the worst as you looked through the peephole, this time seeing a postman standing on your porch instead of a black hole.

“For y/l/n”, he said, handing you a package before leaving with fast steps. Confused you closed the door, eyes glued to the neatly wrapped box in your hands. It had a dark red color, a black ribbon enclosed around it and a card attached to it. With shaking hands you read it, your jaw dropping to the ground at its words.

Wear it and look like the women who are usually seen with me. And make sure the microphone works. I pick you up at seven.

Your heartbeat increased as you read the small card, his handwriting neat and pretty, so not like his appearance. On one hand you were excited what might be inside the box for you to wear, but on the other you wanted to open the trash can to drop it were it belonged.

“What's this?”, Alice made wide eyes as you hid the card inside your pocket, shrugging your shoulders as if you didn't care whose present you just got.

“Just an order of mine”, you said, dropping the package next to the baseball bat on your shelf in the corridor. “How about we go and eat lunch?”, you tried to distract your nosy friend who watched the box intensely before she inhaled.

“Y/n, since when are you having so fucking much money? Damn girl, have a sugar daddy or what?”

Pulling up your eyebrows you glanced at the box again. You had not realized what brand was printed on it. It shook you as you kicked the box, furious that he had to send you such a bugfucking expensive 'gift'. “Stop it, y/n. Better open it instead of destroying its content!”

“Forget it”, you said chuckling, but then you remembered that she didn't know of that sick deal with Min Yoongi and reprimanded to act as usual. “Maybe later, okay? First let's go eat, I'm starving here.”

Suspicion laced Alice's eyes as you avoided her gaze. “Not a chance.”

You turned around in front of the big mirror which reflected your body from top to toe. Black elegant silk lined your body, the soft fabric like sand in your hands whose slowly slid down the material from your breasts down to your hips, ending at the long slit that showed your leg. It was shoulder free, black diamonds casing the gentle belt around your waist.

“You look so beautiful”, Alice looked at you in awe, sitting cross legged on your bed while you slipped into the dress, which lay inside the box, on your body. Carefully, not to rip the expensive dress in two pieces. “Too bad you have to sent it back.”

Gulping you also glanced at your back sight, the words which filled the room ignoring. You never looked that pretty in your whole life, the fact that it was caused by an underground lord made you quite angry, but the sight alone let you forget from whom you got it. Just then your phone started to play your favourite song, Alice picking it up cheerfully.

“Y/n super best friend Alice here, what can I do for you?” Her expression changed from confusion to embarrassment as she handed you your phone in silence.

“Hello?”

“Got the dress and mic I sent you?”, Yoongi's voice was calm, but you heard the menacing undertone that not you picked up his call, but your friend. Eyes darting towards Alice who just blushed in her seat you turned around again.

“Yes.”

“Does it fit?”

“Yes.”

“And the damn mic? I don't have plenty time to talk to you”, he pressed you further, but you couldn't look away from the young woman who watched you out of the mirror, the black dress fitting perfectly on her body. On you.

“Yes. What do you want anyway?”, your voice spit fire ere you locked eyes with Alice who tilted her head.

“Seven o'clock, be ready”, Yoongi bluffed before he hung up on you, seemingly pissed at your tone of voice. But you didn't care what he really wanted as you slid the dress down your figure. It fell down with a silent rustle while you turned towards your best friend.

“Just my secret ex, nothing more”, you smiled innocently, but the girl whose head was still tilted just shook her head.

“And here I thought we both had no secrets, y/n. This man made clear that he fucks you, not a trace of being your 'ex-boyfriend'”, Alice expression showed her amusement whereas she crossed her arms, not believing the shitty lie you told her and definitely not noticing who was talking to her recently. “I sense your lies like my own baby.”

You nervously laughed, your face suddenly pale as you processed her said words. Fucking him? Never ever, not in a million years, but you better played along.

“Ah sorry that I didn't tell you, Alice”, you scratched your neck, sweat from his sudden call wetting your hair.

“It's okay, but make sure we go on a double date some time”, she grinned at you while she stood up, lifting the dress from the floor you stood on. “Should I take it with me to the post office?”

You shook your head, taking the costly black silk out of her hands.

“No need to”, you smiled stiffly at her as you stuffed the dress back inside the box. The thought about tomorrow evening started to sink through your bones, the black color reminding you of the man who would be your strange boss for a day.

Would it turn out alright? Were you ready to play along with his charade or would you lose yourself when you stood next to him? Was it fear you felt or just the adrenalin paralysing your limbs? You didn't know what to expect, but one thing was for sure: You would never lose yourself in him and his cruel methods.

#bts #bts yoongi #min yoongi #bts suga #mafia!yoongi #underground yoongi #bts au #mafia au #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #bts reactions #bts scenarios #yoongi smut #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi au #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #suga smut #dom!yoongi #yoongi fanfic #mafia!bts #bts mafia au #bts fic #bias wrecker #favourite color black #yoonseok #sope

[driftingglass]

inb4 everyone loses their mind about how great BakuDeku is, I'm just trying to make a point. It's a debate, not an argument. That's just my rebuttal. (8/6 wow this got long)

Ah, man, I’m going to have to show all of your messages together because your response was awesome. The thing is, you do have many valid points, and I completely see where you’re coming from and why your point of view on this definitely needs to be heard. 

I hope you don’t mind. I want to respond to you with you knowing that I read every piece of your response and I want to give you the time you’re giving me.

Same anon. Comparing a ship where Deku is told to kill himself and he suffers from depression from everything Baku put him through to “it’s like getting mad at someone for picking green as their favorite color” is a pretty bad comparison honestly. If you romanticize the behavior it leads to people thinking that it’s okay when it clearly isn’t. (1/6)

I agree, that this is a comparably weak analogy. However, I do not intend to romanticize anything when it comes to this ship. These ideas that I’m talking about may sound romanticized, but in execution it would be far harder and more difficult than it seems. 

Also, I would never, EVER, expect the rules of a ship that I like and find interesting in an anime to reflect a real-life relationship or what I would want from a real-life relationship. Maybe this a little confusing, but when it comes to characters and their relationships, I usually never associate them with what I would want in real life. 

Hence, this is why I enjoy writing about it so much, because of how relatively ridiculous and unrealistic it is (and I know that I mentioned the “realism” point on my post and your counter to that, which I’ll expand on). 

Anyway. I agree that romanticizing this behavior is awful, and it shouldn’t be glorified. I don’t think Bakugou should be romanticized as a character at all. I’ve mentioned several times that he’s an asshole and should be held accountable, and in no way would I ever expect this ship to work in canon.

Basically, despite what I love about the ship, I’m completely aware of how horrible the idea of the bully/victim dynamic is reflected in real life, and how circumstances aren’t meant to be built and executed in this way outside of the realm of literature and other artistic mediums.

I understand that you base the attraction of the ship off of healing, forgiveness, growth, etcetera. However, that’s implying that Deku (and others like him who have been in the same situation) would even do any of that. Like he would actually have some kind of mutual love with the same guy who made him fucking hate himself. It literally makes no sense whatsoever considering if you’ve actually talked to anyone who has been bullied, they don’t typically go from “this guy is an asshole”… (2/6)

Hm, you have a point here. I agree with your first statement, but I also want to touch on the “actually have some kind of mutual love with the same guy,” tidbit. I want to clarify that I do think, even with these elements in mind, that Izuku and Katsuki, IF this was based canonically, would have to rebuild some semblance of friendship over years of reconciliation. 

Also… I’m not sure, if Katsuki is actually the main cause of Izuku “hating” himself? I can’t defend anything for Izuku’s complete lack of confidence in the very beginning and the obvious effects that Katsuki’s bullying has had on him. And I don’t plan to, because I think you have a very good point here.

Also, Anon… I have been bullied.

I was bullied verbally and physically through elementary, middle and high school. My family dynamic has led to me being bullied and cornered in my own home. My only two romantic relationships stemmed from mental and sexual manipulation and abuse from people I once considered my best friends, and even though I forgave both of these people, I would never turn back and accept them in my heart again. 

I’ve faced repercussions from every experience, and still do. 

I understand how dreadful and deplorable bullying is, and how it affects victims and the people around them and dear to them. In no way do I want to ever come off as a person who romanticizes bullying or even promotes something similar to that.

But again, this ship is not based off of an idea that I would ever want in my life or want anyone I care about to experience. It’s an idea that I enjoy reading and thinking about in a work of total fiction, with aspects of it that I enjoy and relate to, while also understanding that my life and the works I enjoy are separate. 

You can take that as you will. 

This may seem backwards, but it’s how I feel. 

(Also, Anon, I don’t see parts 3 or 5…? If you want this included on here, send them to me or let me know. I could be missing some of your response…)

Has anyone else who has been bullied relentlessly who is reading this felt that way /ever/? I seriously doubt it. Not only does it not make sense, but it insults the trope as a whole. You continue to make general contrasts and parallels to Katsuki and Izuku which is nice and all. That’s great. In fact, that’s fantastic for a platonic respect that would somehow grow from whatever bitterness they had before. (4/6)

Ah, this is kind of going off my last response. 

I agree that it works mostly in a platonic respect, because mostly of what I love about these two characters and their parallels is their entire dynamic as a whole, both in a romantic and non-romantic context. 

I was focusing on the romantic since that was the subject of the anonymous message you sent me, but there is no doubt in my mind that in the canon universe and even in general, these two work marvelously in the platonic respect.

That’s part of why I love the challenging (and seemingly impossible) idea of carving a romantic image out of it. Is it necessary to enjoy the dynamic? No. Absolutely not. I think your points on this make a ton of sense. 

And no, as someone who’s been bullied for the vast majority of my life, I’ve never felt this way. Ever. I agree with you on that. 

Again, that’s part of the challenge in writing about it, not exercising the practice in real life. I do think the ship is toxic and has a ton of issues, and I’ve mentioned that before–in fact, a lot of the reasons why I mention those to begin with, is based on making readers understand that what happens in this ship shouldn’t be celebrated as an embodiment of perfection or a work of fiction.

But, I see the problematic viewpoints in my arguments, as well. Some of these will lead to us having to agree to disagree, but I really love this rebuttal.

You can forgive someone but that doesn’t mean things are better. That doesn’t mean Deku is fine, it just means he’s let those actions go and he won’t let them haunt him anymore. But forgiveness isn’t an open door for romance. If someone has broken your best friend’s heart and you forgave them for that, it doesn’t erase the memories of you watching them cry or trying to console them because of what their ex did. (6/6 but I still have more to type and this inbox sucks

Everything you’ve said here, is completely, 100%, TRUE.

I absolutely agree on all of the points you’ve made in this specific section. Especially on the nature of forgiveness and how you’ve expanded on this from a previous section you wrote. 

I also agree that forgiveness is not an open door for romance… but it can be.

Now, I’m not speaking from personal experience, and I’m not speaking for the experience of anyone else, but that sentence alone is not universally true. It’s a rather bold statement to make, and it would be impossible to assume that every person who forgives someone would shut the door for romance. 

The circumstances are different with everyone, but it IS TOXIC for a person to immediately forgive, forget, and leap into a romantic situation with no rebuilding or actual time taking place. It’s a complicated subject that you’ve introduced well, and again, I think you’re correct.

Is it true for BakuDeku, though? Yeah, I think in terms of canon, you’re correct. 

But this, again, is why I think it’s challenging. Also, while mentioning this, I do not think that people should feel obligated to open their options for romance upon the nature of forgiveness. Ever.

Again, what I find intriguing in a ship between fictional characters does not reflect what I would want to see from real people, especially those near and dear to me.

Your examples are very relatable too, and help bolster your argument well. 

To clear one thing up, I’m one of few people who ship BakuDeku who completely understands why people hate the ship… for literally almost everything you’ve said so far. I know that this exists, and that your logical viewing behind it is completely valid and makes absolute sense. 

The ship is ludicrous, and the elements that I find fascinating between the characters is why I want to write about them. 

Also, yeah, the inbox system sucks on here. I’m sorry about that, but I appreciate you breaking up your responses! 

If your father used to tell you to kill yourself and treat you the same way Baku did to Deku, you can forgive him but that doesn’t erase whatever Deku has gone through. Forgiveness isn’t a plot device to spur your ship. It’s far more complicated than that. And last but not least, you can challenge yourself with writing without having them fall in love after all the horrible shit Baku has done to Deku. BakuDeku is in no way realism. (7/6)

Again, I agree with you, especially on the first sentence. 

I do find it… kind of unbecoming, to claim that I’m using forgiveness as a plot device to spur the ship. I suppose that it can be considered that, but I don’t take the subject of forgiveness lightly at all–I know that it’s one of the hardest, if not the hardest thing, you can do individually for both yourself and the person involved. 

I’ve had to forgive quite a lot of people to give myself peace, and that has taken years at a time for some, and months for others. I’m fully aware how complex and emotionally rendering forgiveness is, and what it takes to follow through with it. 

I also completely agree with writing about them challengingly and not having them fall in love. I think that’s what’s going to happen with the canon material, honestly. At least, I’m hoping for it, that they can overcome these hurdles and at least mutually respect each other as people. 

Now, the romantic context? That’s purely for out of canon and not at all based on strict material or realistic representation within the manga or from personal experiences. 

“BakuDeku is in no way realism.” 

Hm. You may have a point here. I can see how my statement earlier on BakuDeku being a reflection of realism is flawed, and with the examples you presented I’ll respect that. I’m aware that it’s in a context of fictional characters with overly dramatic and exaggerated circumstances and personalities, and I do think there are realistic elements that can be taken with a ship based in an anime. 

But I agree that outright claiming it to be based on a foundation of realism on top of everything else is a stretch, considering the argument you’ve presented.

inb4 everyone loses their mind about how great BakuDeku is, I’m just trying to make a point. It’s a debate, not an argument. That’s just my rebuttal. (8/6 wow this got long)

Anon, I think it’s actually really incredible that you bothered to present a well-thought-out, well-presented, and very cordially presented rebuttal to my response to your original message. 

I’m grateful that you contributed to this as a discussion, and I love the points you made. I also don’t want you to think that I do support some of these elements that is mentioned above, and that my intention is in no way to romanticize the ship for what it is. 

I also know you’re not trying to start an argument. I love what you’ve had to say, and I really appreciate it. I appreciate the respect and clear attention you’ve put into the post I made and your response, and I hope that my response isn’t angering you or upsetting you.

And if you didn’t want me to do this, please message me and I’ll gladly take it down

Thank you for this response. 

#Response #Anonymous #This is Awesome Actually #Discussion #Personal #Thank You Anon #Response to Your Rebuttal #Asks #KatsuDeku #BakuDeku #Discussing Ships and Other Things #This Escalated But Man #You're Clearly Well-Read and Intelligent #You Have Great Points #I Respect What You Have to Say and I Appreciate it Exponentially #Debate #Long Post #Ramble #Conversation #DriftingGlass Answers #Probably One of My Favorite Responses and Received Series of Messages

[rosefeatherr]

Hoo boy do I have some stuff to say on the new south park (and like, Heidi’s arc overall)

Soooo first things first. If you don’t know me (like you found this in the tags or whatever), there’s a few things you gotta know. Like, so you as a reader can have some context for my viewpoint.

I am a domestic abuse survivor. It wad bad enough that I have C-PTSD and probably will for the rest of my life. 

He was a pedophile (when we got together, I was 15 and he was 20. I’m 20 now, and I see 15 year olds as kids. Not necessarily children, but people who still have some growing up to do and obviously don’t have the same power I, as an adult, do)

Also he once coerced me into sexually roleplaying as a 7 year old. One of my worst memories.

We were together for 2 and half years. I broke up with him the day after I turned 18.

We were engaged. 

It was long distance. He lived in Texas, and I lived in New Hampshire. He never once hit me, but he never had to. That’s how deep it ran. 

 I pledged myself to a college in his city before I decided to leave him, and I went through with that. Although I ended up making some good memories down in Texas, he did try to stalk and harm me. Wasn’t a fun time. 

So, now you understand why Heidi’s arc got intensely personal to me. Especially with the fact we only saw Eric be physical with her once? Maybe twice? And yet it was still obviously abuse. He was still manipulating her. He was still hurting her. It wasn’t entirely physical, because abuse rarely is entirely physical. In fact, it’s more often nonphysical. 

One of Cartman’s favorite tactics was acting like he was miserable in the relationship, but when Heidi tried to end it he would cry and threaten to kill himself. This hit home for me. Nikki (abusive ex-fiance) pulled this shit ALL THE FUCKING TIME. 

He would act SO miserable to be with me, like he felt trapped. But if I wanted to end it, he would threaten to kill himself. So I stayed. And we together convinced me that it was for the best. That I was happy. 

And they did a good job of portraying the fact that abusive relationships never start out that way. It’s like a boiling frog. When you’re dropped suddenly into it (or you’re on the outside looking it), it’s obvious that it’s harmful and going to seriously damage you. But if it builds up slowly, little by little, you won’t notice. Others might begin to, especially newer friends, but you won’t notice until it’s too late. 

It took me two years to notice. And when I did? I didn’t know what to do. So I didn’t do anything. I let everything stay the same. 

I know I said in the past that the fact they portrayed the idea of the victim turning into their abuser is problematic, and don’t get me wrong it really is, but it’s not necessarily wrong. 

Abuse is a trauma. And people who are traumatized, regardless of whether or not they have C/PTSD, are often angry. In cases of ongoing abuse, they get angry at everyone but their abuser. Consciously or subconsciously, they are scared to be angry at their abuser during the abuse, because they are scared of their abuser’s anger. 

To this day, I am scared of Nikki. 

Something no one really talks about (that I see, anyways) is that victims of ongoing abuse often develop toxic behaviors to survive. Be it parents or partners, it’s really common. We sort of saw that in Heidi. In my case, because Nikki used his attention as sort of a bargaining chip, I developed a thing for really seriously needing attention and doing anything to get it. I’d intentionally make people worry about me to get their attention. It was toxic, shitty, and manipulative. I’ve worked hard to move past that and be a better person. Not to say I don’t still crave attention, but since I have understanding friends I can just ask for it. 

In Heidi, we saw her turn into Cartman. Cartman manipulated her and filled her head with racism, and she believed him. She turned into him. She became angry and racist and fucking shitty. To a point it bothered even him. He didn’t see the irony, only saw more of a reason to paint himself as the victim in his own mind. 

Kyle tried his best to help Heidi, but with everyone else going “I told you so”, his voice was drowned in negativity. That’s right! That’s what that is! 

When you tell an abuse victim “I told you so” It’s fucking negative. It’s shitty. It’s a shitty fucking thing to say. Whether or not you told them so, whether or not they recognize the abuse, whether or not they’re usually okay with jabs at them. 

When you say “I told you so”, do you know what you’re actually saying?

“I don’t care that you’re hurting, I care that I was right.”

Shitty, shitty thing to say. And the show addressed that! That’s so rare! In a lot of portrayals of abuse, the issue of what others say isn’t addressed. At most we get the ~controversial whispers~ scene. But we never see people who are supposed to be the victim’s friends say “I told you so” or “It’s about time”. 

To this day, I don’t interact with anyone who said the words “I told you so” when I first broke up with Nikki. A majority of them turned out to be shitty people themselves. Looking back, it wasn’t surprising. 

Of course I had a bit of an issue with them portraying the victim turning into the abuser as the only thing that can happen, but I think most people are smart enough to know that’s not the case. With staggering abuse statics, everyone know someone who’s been abused. Whether you know that you know someone or not, everyone knows someone. 

This final episode hit me the hardest. 

There was actually a point where I really recognized that I was being abused. That Nikki was intentionally hurting me. I had known he was hurting me for some time, but I always figured it wasn’t intentional. I had always let it slide. 

And I asked myself “What the fuck happened? How did this happen? How did I end so miserable and scared of my partner? The man who is going to be my husband?”

I’d finally noticed that the water was boiling. But I hadn’t quite figured out that I had to jump out.

Heidi noticed her water was boiling when Kyle called her out. When Kyle told her “I’d never have the hots for who you are now.” Because he blatantly pointed out that she was different, that she had changed. Someone who had really, really liked her (something she was well aware of), said that she had changed. And that he disliked her. 

For me, the moment I realized I had to jump out was when I began crushing on someone else. I didn’t feel it was fair to be with Nikki while I felt like that so I said we were temporarily breaking up.

Nikki immediately threatened to kill himself. He then lied to me about trying and THEN lied to me about being in the hospital. That’s when I took a step back. That’s when I hit block on everything I could. That’s when I finally jumped out of the water. 

For Heidi? It was a few things. 

The fact that Cartman didn’t give a single fucking fuck about any of her moments or landmarks of their relationship. 

The fact that Cartman tried to blame her for him being mean to her, and the fact she realized she IS mean to him and she realized she wasn’t always that way.

The talk of playing the victim, of understanding that you can’t entirely blame your actions on your abuser. 

The fact she realized she was threatening to kill him, when she used to be kind. 

“Heidi, you are not breaking up with me.” [immediately threatens to kill himself]. 

She realized that while he did control and manipulate her, and while she is a victim, that doesn’t absolve her over her own actions. Being abused NEVER justifies abusing someone. NOTHING justifies abusing someone.

Not to say Heidi abused anyone, but she was hurtful to her friends. And she knows that. And she’s going to make up for it. She jumped out of the water. Now she has to tend to her burns and learn to live in a normal environment. 

Now she has to heal. She has to take some time and reexamine everything in her environment. Figure out what is and isn’t harmful. And let’s all hope her friends have the sense to say “How can we help you?” instead of “we told you so.” 

Cartman is an abusive scumbag. Heidi is a survivor. 

The message of the arc is a lesson I learned the hard way: When someone abuses you, you are a victim but that cannot define you. That’s why a lot of people use the term “survivor” instead of “victim”. It is something to be survived. It is harmful and scarring and can affect your whole world. 

Heidi Turner deserves the opportunity to heal, and to learn how to move past it. She may end up with something like C-PTSD, where she finds that she may always be scared of him and may always be in pain. And if she does, I believe she’ll learn to cope. 

tldr: Heidi Turner deserves the chance to heal and learn to be okay. Cartman did abuse her, but she now understands that that doesn’t have to define her. 

She went from victim to survivor.

#south park #heidi turner #eric cartman #heiman #okay to reblog #abuse // #im serious this post is a lot of in depth talk of abuse #if you cant handle it please dont read it and go look at some cats #Fiery Wisdom

[okimargarvez]

NIGHTMARE

Original title: Nightmare.

Prompt: nightmares, dark thoughts, military life, fear.

Warning: none.

Genre: angst, romantic.

Characters: Penelope Garcia, Luke Alvez.

Pairing: Garvez.

Note: oneshot 2 in Garvez collection.

Legend: 💑😘😈.

Song mentioned: 10 piegamenti, Tiziano Ferro.

MY OTHER GARVEZ STORIES

NIGHTMARE

 Lack. He’s gone. No, that’s not true, it’s not possible. The heart. The heart is dying. It does not pump more blood. And the lungs, no, they no longer work. I can’t see.

I’m scared. I can’t feel anything.

That perfume, that one I feel it. Chrysanthemums. They’re everywhere, above my chest, between my hands… in my hair? Please, no, remove them from me!

I don’t want to die. But I don’t want to live without you.

He’s dead. Dead. Dead.

No, it’s not possible.

He had promised he would be careful. It wasn’t enough.

I see. The eyelids are sealed, but I see. What is this instrument? Why it is approaching my body? It wants to open me in two parts.

-Nooooo!- the woman screams at the quiet of the night. His first instinct while still lies in a state of neglect, is to grab the gun, hidden in the bedside table and face the enemy. A few seconds later he understands the real situation. The hand crawls on the wall, his fingers find the switch on the button. The light temporarily blinds them. He turns to his girlfriend. She’s breathing again, she is sweaty and has a pure expression of terror on her face. It’s so much I’m not alone in this room, in fact I’ve been back with the analysis of conscience, I’ve matured debts with my introspection, I lost the vice to always ask “please”…

-Lovely?- he asks with a voice still mingled with sleep. -What happened?- she turns slowly in his direction. She lowers her eyes with a sorry silent.

-I didn’t want to wake you up…- she says in a sad, very sad tone. He shakes his head.

-Don’t even say it.- he replies, approaching her and taking at the same time her hand, excessively cold. -Did you have that dream again?- he immediately guess, not only because of his profiler ability. - Where I’m dead and then you die and eventually wake you up, so to speak, during the autopsy?- it doesn’t need that she nods. He pulls on sitting, leaning against the back of their bed and forcing her to lean on his shoulder. -Love, all right, I’m here, alive, alongside you.- with the other hand he caresses her cheek. There’re no tears to dry. -What do I have to do to convince you?- his tone isn’t too high and he isn’t mad.

-I know you’re here, that we’re alive… but I can’t get rid of this nightmare.- she looks resigned and disillusioned. -I’m afraid of falling asleep, now, because I know that I’ll dream of those things.- she looks away from him. -That’s all in my head, but when I’m there, it seems real. I can hear the earth, its smell and dust in the coffin, the disinfectant in the morgue and the iron taste of blood, mine and yours… I feel the cold in the bones and it doesn’t even abandon me neither when I emerge…- she squeezes in her arms on the chest. The man drags her back under the blankets.

-Do you still feel cold?- he asks as his hands disappear in the sheets. Penelope nods. In a moment he’s over her and shortly afterwards, he is inside her. He slips into the female body with such naturalness to frighten any one. At the same time, he lays his lips on hers and never take it off. He cuddles her in every possible way. He doesn’t treat her like an object, but the subject that justifies ever his action. Then he stays hugged at her, his hands in her blond hair.

She feels the sweat of their bodies, the panting of the breathless man, his voice whispering sweet words. -Luke…- she runs away without being able to control herself. -How do you manage to handle me?- if she didn’t say it, he would have guessed that was what she was thinking.

-I’m here and I’ll be even in a few hours, by morning. I’ll always be with you, whatever happens. We were together even before we knew it rationally and we would even be if…- but he doesn’t finish the sentence. -Do you know we could never meet us? I’ve been risking to spend my entire life without knowing the purity of your smile.- she practically doesn’t breathe anymore. -You’re the first thought I have when I get on the jet. Before any potentially dangerous case, I try to remember what’s at stake. - he leaves another kiss on the woman’s forehead. -What I risk losing for a reckless move. It wasn’t like this when I was alone. Have you ever read my file? - this is a sort of rhetorical question, but she decides to answer anyway.

-Yes. But I don’t need to get you a profile. You’re, you were a lone guy, not used to teamwork after… what happened to Phil.- she knows it’s still a sore note for him. -Always in the most dangerous areas, if there was a chance to get you killed by a bomb, gunned down or kidnapped … you were on the front line.- it’s not really a reproach, but it looks like it. -When you came back from Iraq you entered the task force and even here you didn’t miss the action.- she bites her lips, thoughtful.

-And what conclusion did you come up with?- she feared a similar question. She takes a big breath and then throws herself out, as when sending an important mail: you just give the time to write it, read it twice (maximum) to verify the correctness from the grammatical and lexical point of view… then press it without thinking about it anymore.

-You wanted to get yourself killed.- it’s not the first time they touch this topic. But ever since she began to have such nightmares, he could not help but wonder if had any blame even his past as bounty hunter. -I’m wrong?- she whispered, slowly, like a child who is afraid of saying an incorrect word.

-No.- he answers, clenching his eyelids and letting his worries go away with his breath. -It’s so, I wanted to die.- it seems like a century has passed when he opens his mouth again. -In that period, I crossed busy streets without looking. I forgot the gas of the open oven; I’ve never done it before, it was just as if I had forgotten what was the prudence. I didn’t have a thousand problems anymore, I haven’t wake up suddenly thinking “Have I’ll close the door well?“. The guilty sense was too great, it had embedded everything.- a light continues to blink on the bedside table. It’s 1:00 a.m. They should rest, not talk of so serious arguments. She says nothing to not interrupt his flow of consciousness. -Only after taking Cullen, I mean the second time, when I was with BAU, I realized that what I really wanted was to be his victim. Not Phil who had a girlfriend and a brilliant future ahead of him. I… before that nasty story, I was… messed up. I could not relate to others in a normal, friendly way, except in the military context. My dad was it, as you know and… I don’t think I’ll felt good enough for him.- another pause. -With the women…- he begins, then he’s blocking himself, fearing he can hurt her, but then he comes to the conclusion that she must know. -… more problems. After high school I practically forbidden myself to fall in love. I knew that I would have follow the military carrier and that I would have done worried my mother and sister… they were more than enough as female representatives. My grandmother had died when I was twelve. Thanks to several analysis now I know that it’s here that I must to look for the origin of my behavior, the cancellation of feelings in the hope of no longer having to suffer for the sudden lack of someone. It didn’t seem to me to be worth it.- he grabs her hand in his, demonstrating his awareness of the woman’s presence, whose began to doubt it. -Two creatures helped me heal, in the deepest sense of the term. The first one is snoring at the bottom of our feet.- he laughs, she makes the same. He has told her many times that her laughter is gold, sweet, fresh and healing like water on top of the ascent. Almost the same as her smiles. But even that of him is special, what he does in private, not at work, not every time she calls him “newbie”; he has the ability to force her to laugh with him and sometimes they can go on for quite a few minutes. It makes them feel alive. -Roxy was an angel, seriously. I had neglected so much this impulse that I didn’t need during missions, that I couldn’t see even the animals them as living creatures, rather as useful tools for my purpose, born with that only function.- she bites her tongue because she has heard too many times similar phrases, even in the mouth of important and / or intelligent people. -I don’t know what’s so special about her, but she has managed to dig a tunnel between ice and rock until she gets to my heart. Only she, though. From there I felt better, but I had no intention or interest to let anyone else come in. I took the compromise I was able to joking or confiding with semi-known people, only about superficial arguments.- this time, the break seems to last longer.

She’s therefore forced to speak. -And the second creature?- he looks at her in a stranger way.

-Did not you really understood that?- is that provocative and terribly sexy grimace. -It’s you.- he exclaims naturally, using a tone of obviousness. -I was impressed right away I met you, but this was pretty obvious. Nobody can ignore Penelope Garcia.- he teases her, then adds -Unfortunately.- she raises her eyes to heaven. -I don’t know if I was intrigued by the generously loose blouses or your way of doing so abrupt, detached. At first I thought you were a snob, one that was a tease… after all, you was- he corrects instantly by anticipating her gaze -you are the best computer technician available for the government. If you were an egghead it wouldn’t have been so strange. But then I saw you interact with the others and you were totally another person. And when you smiled at me for the first time, though for a joke, you’ve changed completely. I think it was the first of a long series of occasions when I said in my head, “Fuck, how beautiful she is”- she lets that figure penetrate directly into her skin, cross her completely. -You continued to be by yourself and there was a strange atmosphere among us. Tense, but exciting. I imagined everything in that elevator. But I was also tired, frustrated to not understand… so I asked around and I got the answer. I’ve done a lot of research on you, I tried to know you better in the only way I was granted. I found you were really orphaned, that someone shot you, you’re a vegetarian, a former hacker, the godfather of JJ’s sons with Spencer, that you’ve had a long story with another technical analyst, Lynch.- is significant he chooses not to call him by name. She no longer knows what to think and thanked to any demon has made her have so much nightmares to wake Luke and finally push him to open with her. After almost a year of relationship.

-And then? How did you use this information for your benefit?- she asks, turning to his side to look better him.

I need to change, always standing the same, I’m often afraid to be afraid, but when you are feeling so love, I really mean, everything else is little, everything else is zero…

-Well, I was a size hunter paid by the government, in essence. I did what I could do best: hunting the prey.-  a mischievous glance makes her shine. -I didn’t know why or I was not ready to accept it, is the same. Anyway, I just needed to know one thing: that I wanted you, I should have you. It was years, what I say, I don’t know if I’ve ever tried such a burning desire to kiss a woman. I made a thousand hypotheses on what flavor could have your lips, but they were useless speculation. I thought it was just a matter of sex, that my goal was to get you to bed and then I would be rid of obsession about you. Well, I was out of the way. After a few months without making any progress, without taking account that I have touched your hand and your shoulder at Bradenton, I stopped having those impulses. And I have I started to think every minute at you, I faced every case with the awareness that I had taken the bad early, I would have saw you soon.- he sighs, he needs to regain breath, perhaps even drinking, but he can’t interrupt himself too much long. -Do you know when I realized “I’m in love with Garcia”? Not that time I saw you crying and I gave you the kitten. No, that was the case on the unnamed waist, when you arrived with that expression so… bitter, sad, I do not know and I’d give anything to have you smile.- she understands that he’s almost finished.

-I realized I was in love with you the time you stole my remote control. When our fingers came close I felt the earth vibrate under my feet, I thought there was the earthquake. I had never felt anything like this with Morgan, ever. It was our first time that our bodies came in contact, because when we met, I did not want to shake your hand, with the excuse to be busy with folders.- she smiles at that thought, that fragment of past that leaves behind a sense of tenderness. She gets yawned and she feels her eyelids become heavier.

-What I wanted to say, the sense of all this talk, is that you helped me really before you started to show love to me. The mere fact of being myself, in love with you, has healed me, comforted, cared for. Open to a world that hurt, but it also knows how to give happiness. And the game has always been worth the risk with you.- a sweet smile purses his lips. -Always.- he repeat in lower tone, because Penelope has finally let herself be wrapped from sleep. Her expression serene. Her fingers braided with his.

Tags: @martinab26 @janiedreams88 @talesoffairies @kiki-krakatoa@yessenia993 @arses21434 @teyamarra  @c00lhandsluke @gcchic   @orangesickle @entireoranges @jamirn@kathy5654 @lovesgoodluna @thisonekid@thenibblets@ambrosiaswhispers @perfectly-penelope @courtneyxoxo1 @jahreau @gracieeelizabeth27  @silviajajaja @ichooseno  megs2219 @ smalliemichelle99 @skisun @chewwy123 @maziikeen92 @ gracieeelizabeth27  @ thinitta   @franklintrixie @jenf42 Tell me if you want to be removed ^_^

#garvez #luke alvez #penelope garcia #nightmare