#“i just want to live a normal life” I WILL FUCKING KILL MYSELF

[vindicated-truth]

“Why are you smiling at your phone?”

Dongsik pries his gaze away from the screen to look at the older and infinitely more handsome version tilting his head curiously.

Joowon looks over Dongsik’s shoulder, and his eyebrows fly to his hairline. “Why do you have that photo?”

Dongsik grins at him. “Your brother sent it to me.”

“I don’t have a brother,” is the automatic knee-jerk response, which just makes Dongsik grin wider. Joowon sighs. “When did hyung send that to you?”

Dongsik watches as Joowon gracefully returns to the Western-style pasta he’s been cooking in his kitchen—an acceptable compromise between Joowon’s preferred cuisine and Dongsik’s love for noodles. Dongsik has yet to completely endear Joowon to noodles with broth, and he’s just thankful Joowon is gamely willing to try anything Dongsik offers him, so this is just him returning the favour—even though Dongsik has never understood the appeal of pesto.

“Prosecutor Kwon sent it to me just now. He was clearing away some of the stuff at your house and chanced upon this photo album.” Dongsik waves the phone screen. “Said this was his favorite.”

Joowon looks up from the sauce he’s been mixing in the pot. “Why did he send that to you, then?”

When did the two of you become close is the true, unasked question, and Dongsik smirks. “Because Prosecutor Kwon wanted to gush about how cute you were as a baby without you killing him for it.”

Dongsik laughs out loud when Joowon just glares at him. “Clearly I was not a baby in that photo,” Joowon huffs. “I was seven years old when that was taken.”

“Oh?” Dongsik’s interest is piqued now. “So you remember exactly when this was taken?”

“Yes.” Joowon lifts the tasting spoon to his lips and seems to find the sauce satisfactory. “My mother took that photo when the school called to ask about my piano recital, which I never got to participate in because my father sent me to England right before the concert.”

Dongsik stills.

Joowon turns off the heat from the stove and looks up when the silence stretches for far too long. “Dongsik-ssi?”

A million questions come to Dongsik’s lips and he doesn’t know what to address first. He wants to ask about Joowon’s mother and how much of a presence she had been in Joowon’s life. He wants to ask about the bastard of a father who sent an innocent child thousands of miles away to live alone without even a support system.

But he doesn’t want to dredge up any more painful memories that Joowon might not be ready—or even want—to face again, so instead he asks about the most fascinating discovery of all:

“You play the piano?”

Joowon seems startled by the question, as if it’s one that he hasn’t expected Dongsik to ask. “Yes,” he answers simply.

Dongsik watches as Joowon moves to set the table, and normally Dongsik would help, except at the moment Dongsik is too captivated by the way Joowon’s features are fighting to stay neutral as he speaks. “I was able to continue the practice in England. When I did not yet know the language, music was the only way I could express myself.”

There’s a significant pause before Joowon deliberately returns to the stovetop to fiddle with the noodles so Dongsik can’t see his expression. “My father didn’t come to any of my performances, even though I called home several times to invite him. After that, I just—stopped trying.”

Dongsik is grateful that Joowon’s back is facing him, so he’s able to quell the white-hot rage that flares within him with alarming swiftness. The hand that is gripping his phone tightly returns it to his pocket as he closes his eyes and takes a deep, calming breath.

Fucking bastard I hope the fires of hell burn you a thousand times over.

He opens his eyes, pastes a smile on his face, and walks up to the kitchen counter. “Let me help you with that, Joowon-ah.”

Joowon blinks as Dongsik lifts the pot from beneath Joowon’s hands, which are left hanging in mid-air, and begins transferring the pasta to two bowls. “I’ll start grating the parmesan then,” Joowon comments with a hint of amusement in his tone.

They lapse into comfortable, companionable silence as they finish preparing dinner side by side—practiced and familiar—just as they have for so many nights that they have spent together in Joowon’s apartment, like this.

“White?” Dongsik peers at the wine bottle Joowon places on the table when they both finally settle down to eat. “You prefer red.”

“White wine goes with this type of pasta better,” Joowon explains as he takes the seat adjacent to Dongsik.

Dongsik’s mouth quirks. “I see,” he muses as he twirls the pasta on his fork. “And here I thought it’s because I prefer white.” He pops the pasta into his mouth—and pauses.

Ever attentive, Joowon immediately asks: “What’s wrong? Do you not like it? I can prepare something else if you—”

Dongsik raises a hand to forestall Joowon’s spiraling concern—and transparent insecurity—as he chews thoughtfully. “Huh,” Dongsik says as soon as he swallows. “You know, I never liked pesto.”

Joowon looks visibly crestfallen and opens his mouth, presumably to once again offer another fare, when Dongsik shakes his head and continues. “I’ve just now figured out that it’s not the sauce itself that I don’t like, but the way it’s cooked.”

He meets Joowon’s eyes and smiles. “And I like the way you cook.”

Joowon blinks, a vision of adorable confusion, before his features settle into something akin to mild chagrin. “There is no need to be polite with me, Dongsik-ssi, I would rather have your honesty. How else would I improve my skills?”

How else can I be better for you is the true, unspoken statement, and something inside of Dongsik’s chest twists.

“Joowon-ah.” Dongsik reaches out and clasps Joowon’s hand. “I like it.”

Dongsik holds Joowon’s gaze just as determinedly, and Dongsik is delighted to see Joowon’s ears redden at the unwavering attention.

“I’m glad,” Joowon returns just as softly, before he clears his throat. “So am I also allowed to eat now?”

Joowon looks pointedly at his dominant hand that Dongsik is tightly holding, and Dongsik sees on those lips the smile that Jowoon is fighting against—and failing.

“Of course,” Dongsik says amiably as he lets go and returns to his own plate. “Can’t have my little prince go hungry.”

“I am not a prince,” Joowon huffs as he digs into his own plate, and Dongsik bites the inside of his cheek to stop the grin threatening to form at how Joowon has not protested Dongsik’s possessive use of ‘my’.

They eat in contented silence for a while—the pasta really is delicious, and white wine does go well with it—and when Dongsik is down to the last few bites, he takes a deep breath.

“Yuyeon-ah plays the piano too.”

Joowon peers at Dongsik over the wine glass, the rim touching his lips as he processes Dongsik’s revelation.

Belatedly, Dongsik realizes he’s made use of the present tense.

Slowly, Joowon sets the wine glass back down on the table. Dongsik watches the way Joowon’s fingers—slim and long the way a pianist’s fingers are, heartrending in the familiarity—fiddle with the stem.

“Does Yuyeon-ssi perform at recitals too?’

Dongsik swallows against the sudden lump that forms in his throat as Joowon makes use of the present tense, too.

“Yes,” Dongsik answers softly. He smiles, eyes crinkling against the sudden blurring of his vision. “And we never miss a single one. Our mother, our father, and myself—we always sit front and center at every single one of her recitals.”

Dongsik lifts his head to look at Joowon, expecting the familiar pity he’d see in people’s eyes whenever he talks about his sister, or—although thankfully less frequent now—the familiar underlying guilt he’d always see shadowing Joowon’s incandescent gaze. 

Instead, Dongsik is met with a gaze as warm as the alcohol coursing through his bloodstream, wrapping him in a sensation that’s distinctly similar to an embrace.

It takes Dongsik’s breath away.

“She must be very good,” Joowon murmurs with a gentle smile, and Dongsik has to fiercely fight against the sudden urge to cry.

“She is,” Dongsik affirms, voice watery and breath shaky, as he unfurls his palm on the table and this time—it is Joowon who interlaces their fingers together.

“She is.”

—

“What are you doing here?” Joowon bursts out.

“Why yes I’m fine, Joowon-ah,” Hyeok answers wryly as he steps up and grips Joowon’s shoulders affably. “Thank you so much for asking, especially since it’s been so long since we last saw each other.”

“We had lunch together at work last week,” Joowon deadpans.

“And a week is an incredibly long time!” Hyeok throws his arms wide. “Come here.”

“Do not—!”

Dongsik grins widely as he meets Joowon’s sullen gaze from across the room as the younger man finds himself hoisted into Hyeok’s bear hug—very much against his will, Dongsik can amusedly see.

“… embrace me.” Joowon glares at Dongsik over Hyeok’s back and silently mouths, ‘Why is he here?’

Why did you invite him is the true, unasked query, and in response, Dongsik instead turns towards the living room where the rest of their visitors are waiting.

From the entryway, Joowon follows Dongsik’s gaze—and his eyes widen.

Hyeok releases him just then, and Joowon stumbles both at the sudden action—and in shock.

“What are you all doing here?”

Jihoon waves enthusiastically from his seat. “Hi Joowon-hyung!”

This time, it’s Hyeok who catches Dongsik’s gaze and silently mouths in disbelief: ‘Hyung?’

Dongsik grins. Hyeok and Joowon are more alike than either of them will ever admit at gunpoint.

“Dongsik-ah had us all have this date blocked in our calendars for a while,” Jihwa explains from her seat beside her brother.

“Said we had no excuse for not coming since we could file for official leaves early on,” Gwangyoung adds at Joowon’s befuddled expression.

“Which was a hell of a thing to explain to the supervisors at work,” Ohsub grumbles from his seat at the head of the table.

“Chief Nam Sangbae won’t mind,” Dosoo pipes up brightly, catching Dongsik’s attention at how he, too, makes use of the present tense. “Especially now that his residence has become our official reunion house.”

Little Huimang burbles happily from her father’s knee, and Seonnyeo rests her head contentedly on her husband’s shoulder as she strokes her daughter’s hair.

“But why?” Joowon exclaims as he looks at each new person with increasing degrees of bewilderment as Hyeok moves to take his seat as well. “What’s the occasion?”

His seeking gaze finally lands on Jaeyi, who bestows upon him a knowing little smile.

“I believe,” she muses, “we were promised a special performance.”

Joowon stares at her. “What are you talking about?”

From his vantage point near the newly-installed upright piano, Dongsik finally pushes himself away from the wall he’s been leaning against while watching everything unfold before Joowon.

He holds out a sheaf of paper, and Joowon looks up at him questioningly.

“I’ve never been that good at reading sheet music,” Dongsik admits ruefully as his fingers lovingly caress the paper. “So I’ve never really managed to interpret Yuyeon-ah’s original compositions.”

Joowon, to his credit, has always been one of the smartest people Dongsik has ever known, and has always been preternaturally fast at picking up clues.

And with the way Joowon’s beautiful eyes have widened in utter shock, Dongsik knows Joowon has pieced together all the clues now, too.

“Joowon-ah,” Dongsik tells him softly. “I would love to hear my sister’s music once again.”

The papers audibly rustle as Joowon takes them with trembling hands. He shakes his head swiftly as he grasps for one final missing piece to the puzzle.

“But why are you all here?” Joowon breathes as he looks up at the sea of expectant gazes staring back at him. “Why would you all file official leaves at work for—this?”

Why would you do this for me is the real, desperate question, and Dongsik moves to take his seat beside Hyeok.

Front and center.

“Because, Lieutenant Han,” Seonnyeo smiles at him, “you always make time for family.”

Dongsik closes his eyes then. He senses movement as the audience settles behind him with bated breath.

He hears a seat being pushed back, a piano being opened, a music sheet being settled into place.

And for the first time in more than twenty years—

Yuyeon has finally returned.

—

모두 함께 노래 부르자 힘찬 노랫소리 슬픔 가려지도록 괜찮을 거야 시계의 바늘처럼 다시 돌고 돌아 제자리로 오겠지

Let's sing together To cover the sadness with the powerful song It's gonna be okay, like the hands on the clock They'll go in circles back to their places

—

Title and lyrics from "Circles" by SEVENTEEN

Happy New Year, my beloved Beyond Evil fandom ❤️

—

Also posted at AO3

[silcobrainrot]

I was typing out a reply to this post and then I realized I lost the plot so bad that I didn't want to derail OP's point so here it is. OP's points that I'm reflecting on:

Zaun is a very fucked place with a very fucked system. He’s doing what he thinks needs to be done in order to at some point be able to rein it in and make it better. He wanted to give Zaun a fighting chance against Piltover. He wanted to make them equal. And in a place where there are no rules. And people talk with violence. You’re going to have to make some very awful choices in order to not only take control, but have enough power to fix it. He may not have been the one to change Zaun, but he’s raised the girl that could.

"but he’s raised the girl that could." SO fucking true and I wish s2 had let her. firing that rocket at the council was a promise to make their lives hell. i didn't need to see her as the leader of a movement but it would have been nice to see her enable and enact change just by being a powerful loose cannon. Act 1 almost gave us this but then she decided that Jinx was dead in ep 4 and then we don't see her do much of anything until she shows up to the battle in the finale. She could have spent the season being unhinged, having agency and making actual choices that have consequences for herself, Zaun, and Piltover (she was responsible for most of the inciting incidents in s1). The good consequences and the bad.

Let her run wild. Show her lose herself to her grief and anger and how much she misses him and how fucked all of this is. Then bring her back. Not in a redemption arc way, I don't think she needs that, but in a way where she finally understands what she wants her life to be. She mourns the loss, she comes out of her grief, she forgives herself for killing him because it's what he would have wanted, and for the first time ever, she gets to choose what her path in life will be. It's time to be her own person. She's not a hero, she'll never lose her enjoyment of violence and chaos, but she is no longer fueled by anger and hatred and vengeance.

Let Sevika use the stuff Jinx does on her own--avenging Silco and taking vengeance against Piltover--to lead a movement. Let Sevika struggle with keeping the people who worked under Silco loyal to the mission. Show us how Sevika got on good terms with Scar [the firelights' leader while Ekko was away] and what an alliance between the movement for change inspired by Jinx, and the firelights, could accomplish for Zaun. Bringing them hope that change is really possible. Getting them out of their homes and their "every man for himself" mentality and get them believing in something. Wanting more for themselves. Organizing. Community services. Shared resources. Fucking unionizing idk. We see so many of Zaun's worst people but there are normal people living in normal poverty just trying to get by down there, too. Show us the Zaun Silco had become so disconnected from due to isolation and obsession.

It started with Silco, despite how flawed his methods were and how they did so much damage to the Undercity. An evil he thought was necessary because he didn't know any other truth in life besides pain and misery. But it started with him, and it gets realized by his daughter and lieutenant. Sevika is probably the closest thing he had to a friend, who stuck by his side despite how much their methods were hurting the people they were trying to liberate. The people who worked closest to him, lived closest to him, and could see the flaws in both his methods and him as a man, finishing what he started.

But instead we get Jinx committing suicide and Sevika joining the council which. Jesus fucking christ I don't even want to get myself started on that bullshit. @wetnoodle thank you for the brain worm

[venivenias]

OH MY GOD STOP EVERYONE STOP

[moghedien]

i swear if you people start uwuifying OCD like you did with ADHD and autism I'm going to start attacking

[seventh-district]

7am, eating cold leftover teriyaki stir-fry for breakfast and crying over blorbos

[kaisollisto]

[selfinflictedgunshotwound]

sorry for only saying this type of shit lately but i kinda wanna drive a car straight into a brick wall at the highest speed possible

[pickledclowns]

I hate fighting so hard all the time to retain some semblance of normalcy within my life. The moment I slip up for even a bit and show symptoms it feels like I destroy everything within my grasp. It's not possible for me to be chill and relaxed to the level that other people need me to be.

[ghostorbz]

I'm so fucking sick of people I'm around having everything I ever could've wanted and then having the nerve to cry about how they have nothing. Your parents love you. You have enough money to spend on toys and games and food. You have tons of friends who care about you and hang out with you. You don't spend every waking moment of your life alone. You have everything I've ever wanted and more.

You fucking know I have none of that. Why do you continue to rub it in my face.

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Had an ADHD assessment a few years ago and the fuckwit that assessed me said, as a direct quote, "You're too smart to have ADHD." Like that's not any type of paraphrasing, that stupid fucking statement is burned in my brain forever and has been since I heard it.

I talked to my psychiatrist about getting a referral to a different psychologist for assessment, and she agreed and sent it in.

Today I got a call that said they don't agree that I need reassessment, and I'm welcome to pursue it elsewhere, but they won't provide reassessment. Which is just.

I don't even know where to start with that one. I just needed to get it out. I'm so tired.

[galacticpanther306]

Similarities between supporters of palestine and supporters of Israel.

1. They love boycotting.

2. They love accusing people who work for those companies of being complicit with either side eventhough the employee just wants to get their shift over with and go home where they can be left alone.

3. They can't take no for an answer heck they can't take being told that the individual isn't interested for an answer.

4. They don't care if the individual in question is having thoughts of committing suicide and think that if they help they're giving the individual a pass for not being interested in this movement.

Anyone on either side that comments on this post with anything nasty will get blocked and I'm getting fucking sick of this behavior.

[rosicheeks]

I get mad about Fb posts too!! I struggle with being jealous of others and it makes me hate myself. I wish I wasn't like this lol

I relate to this so much omg

[snekdood]

random and unnecessary bloodshed towards minorities is good when its my side advocating for it

-tankies

[milo-is-rambling]

I am so high I love you dabs I love you big bong rips I love you huge heavy bong I love you only having 20 dollars to my name and no plans but getting high and ignoring it I love you oh no I’m thinking about it

[mrfoox]

Uh. Like month... 4... Without an big breakdown and im 😳 what.... Wha

[yelloworangesoda]

this got away from me