#because it just refuses to be anything but pure misery

[papermint-airplane]

I'm complaining again.

So on Friday I went to the grocery store as one does and I bought groceries, also as one does.

As I was putting those groceries in the trunk of my car (boot for you heathens out there), I threw my back out. Right there in the Publix parking lot.

Because after 30, your body is like "fuck you in particular" and that's why.

I could barely hobble my cart over to the cart corral and back and people were watching.

Now I can barely stand up straight without pain and this is the THIRD TIME THIS HAS HAPPENED SINCE SEPTEMBER.

Tl;dr all I want for Christmas is

MY FUCKING BACK FIXED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You hear me, Santa, you fat bastard?! 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[gojoath]

ಣ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ ILL GIVE YOU MY HEART, OKKOTSU YŪTA

you think it’s going well with yūta— the new guy you just started dating despite the way you’ve only seen eachother a handful of times. that’s exactly what he wants you to believe though, this is all going according to his plan.

summary. fem reader. yandere yūta. obsession. manipulation. stalking. yandere themes. aged up characters. love confessions (three dates in). promise ring mention. he’s basically love bombing you. first times together. inexperienced yuta -> virginity loss. face sitting. wc, 7.2k.

note. another repost for the series, thank you guys again for all the love you originally gave it :)

he did everything right, everything he had to to make sure you ended up like this. to make sure you fell for him the same way he did you,

yuuta knew exactly the type of guy he had to be. he knew you’d think it was cute, a funny work of fate that he was always there— seeking you out in the mundane and wiggling his way into your everyday routine. what are the chances that you both do your grocery shopping on tuesday nights? what are the chances he’s walking down the same street as you are on a thursday morning, just one over from your apartment? the only answer must be you’re soulmates, you think that too, don’t you? 

it would be rude for you to refuse his invitation to take you out when the universe is trying so hard to put you two together. when he’s trying so hard to get you both together.

he’s been perfect, so polite and loving— good morning texts and constant adoration, showering you in compliments, he’s everything you’ll ever need. yuuta can still remember the way you held his hand on the first date— the way your eyes widened slightly before you sent him a cute look that made his cheeks flush, you looked a little surprised but it only made him want to hold you tighter. to never let you go.

it’s your third date now and he’s more sure now than ever that you’re both made for eachother. he’s able to recite your usual order in your favourite little cafe like it’s second nature as you sit there now, you don’t even pick up the menu before it’s rolling off his tongue and he thinks the shocked look on your face is adorable. hes sure your heart must be racing right now. knowing it was his first time here.

you don’t say anything though, you don’t mention it or tell him how much you liked that or love him, instead suddenly you can’t meet his gaze and yuuta can’t help the way that makes him feel a little disappointed, after he’d taken such time to get to know you.

is it really that surprising that he knows what you like, isn’t that what you want? you may think you’ve just met but he’s known you for months— albeit from afar, from the rooftop opposite your apartment that stares perfectly into your window while you change and sleep, and from the aisles hes followed you through in the supermarket. he’s memorised your usual grocery list and which side of the bed you prefer to sleep on at this point— like a lovershould.

but he does it because love is silly like that, don’t you feel it too?

it’s a little clumsy, with an unsettling sort of urgency that yuuta’s hand reaches across the table to wordlessly ask for yours as his palm opens up. you’re probably just shy, from what hes seen— you’ve probably never felt pure love quite like his before, hes sure true devotion is so new to you you’re not sure how to act.

your gaze lifts to meet his on the opposite side of the table and he notices the chill that seems to run through you under his gaze, it makes him swallow heavily when his vacant, haunting stare holds yours. why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost? his fingers twitch slightly as they remain empty and he’s glad you don’t pay any attention to the way his other hand is digging painfully into his thigh, won’t you put him out of his misery and take his hand?

another few seconds and he sucks his lower lip between his teeth as he continues to stare at you. until finally, your hand us warm when it finally rests in his from across the table. your touch is a stark opposite to the chill in his own fingertips but he’s sure you can see the way the simple touch makes his ears flush pink. his hand closes over yours and his unsettling, neutral expression melts into something softer, gentler with his next movement as he tilts his head at you to smile.

“um.. do you want to come back to my apartment?” or would you want to stay forever? 

three dates in, is when yuuta finally has you.

you’re in front of him as he leans over you to unlock the door to his apartment, deliberately pressing his chest against your back as the lock clicks but he takes the opportunity and close proximity to reward himself with a deep inhale. you smell sweet, something citrine and silky that makes him want to wrap himself in you, in your scent.. in your skin.

it feels like it draws him in, but before yuuta can lean in a little closer, just enough to press his lips against the pulse point in your neck to suck, to mark and bite— the door to his apartment opens and you can’t seem to get in fast enough as you take your first few steps.

his apartment isn’t anything special, if anything it’s a little empty— it would barely looked lived in if it wasn’t for his spare pair of shoes by the door and the katana by his bed. he opted to leave it behind for your date, he was still more than capable of protecting you without it if need be.

but the silence feels uneasy as yuuta watches you eye-up his belongings, he was sure he put everything incriminating away— his little notes about your schedule, the folded up receipts that you’d dropped by accident or the pretty little pictures he’d taken of you, albeit the paper is a little sticky and ruined now. he doesn’t need them anymore though, he has you now.

“sorry, it’s not much hah..” the chuckle he lets out is a little awkward, followed by a loud swallow as his eyes cut through your back but you just.. stand there. but still, he can’t stay away so he approaches you with caution, you’re in his domain now afterall. under his roof, in his heart, why wouldn’t he reach out to touch you when he’s so close? why else would you come to his apartment unless you wanted that.

“it’s very you, i think. kinda how i expected it to look.” the sound of your voice is a low hum but it still makes yuuta’s heart squeeze, it’s funny how much he feels like he missed it— it’d only been a few seconds but he doesn’t think he can live without that sound anymore as it draws him closer, “it’s cute, y’know?”

“really?” your back is still to him but he’s able to get close enough to press his chest against it as his arms wrap around your waist. you’re closer now than you’ve everbeen,

he wishes he could chain you here, right by his side so you never had to leave again.

“mhm.” you smile and yuuta finds himself flushing again as he curls over you slightly, just enough for him to meet your gaze from over your shoulder before you pull him away from him entirely. he feels the brush of cold air from the space your body left as he twitches.

“yuuta?” you ask again, although the sound of his name is different now as he watches you spin on your heels to look at him.

“how did you know my order.. at the cafe i mean.” you’re looking at him so intently it’s making him nervous, you’re nervous he realises. you clasp your hands behind your back as you lean forward and yuuta wonders how long you’ve been thinking this question over in your mind.

did he slip up? did he really ruin his own perfect facade by being too perfect for you. his chest feels a little tighter now and he’s sure the expression on his face isn’t as sweet as he needs it to be, his lower lip is between his teeth and he’s pretty sure if he bites down a little more it’ll draw blood. he needs to think—

“you sent me a picture once,” he smiles gently, kindly as his eyes soften and his voice is such a shy lull as he answers you. he notices the way your shoulders seem to relax and he scratches at the back of his neck before he continues, “at lunch with maki.”

“i just thought it sounded similar to what you had that day, that’s all.” it’s not completely a lie, he did see you taking photos of your food the few times you’ve been to that cafe. but he never got them, he wonders who you sent them too.. there wouldn’t be someone else, right? you wouldn’t do that to him and his heart.

“sorry, is that weird?” yuuta feels hot under your stare but you must feel cold under his, there’s goosebumps along your skin and he finds it a little unnerving the way you draw back as he takes a step forward. maybe you’re just relieved.. is it because you love him that you asked? maybe you wanted his real answer.

“no, no! i must’ve forgot, it’s sweet you remembered.” you think he’s sweet, he smiles at that before he’s taking another careful step towards you and you let him this time. it’s like a relief when his hands are back on you, in their rightful place as he pulls you into him and he keeps you there— underneath his gaze as your face tilts to meet his.

“you’re really pretty.” yuuta whispers softly as he noses against your cheek, letting his cool fingertips tease along the hem of your shirt as they brush along your overheating skin. you shudder, pressing yourself into him and he doesn’t think you’re going to ask anymore questions when you bat your lashes up at him.

“can.. can i touch you?” the question is a drowsy murmur, smeared against the corner of your lips and you choose to answer it wordlessly as you turn to meet him, twisting into a kiss that’s deeper than the ones you’ve shared prior.

he’d kissed you before, but it was more like innocent pecks or kisses along your cheeks, he didn’t want to scare you off— to give you too much of him too soon, he had to make you fall for him first.. to want him. to love him.

but this one is different as yuuta’s nails dig into the bare skin of your waist, it’s sloppier than you’d expect from him as he nips on your lower lip— making you gasp as his tongue tentatively presses its way between them. your lashes kiss against the apples of your cheeks as your eyes close and he picks up on the way your breathing changes when his palm rests against your cheek to hold you there.

you must’ve been waiting for this aslong as he has been, it’s obvious with the way you’re pushing into him. have you been thinking about it as much as he has? he’s dreamed of the moment he’d finally have you here, pressed against him, your mouth on his as you feed into his hunger and he knows for sure now. he won’t ever be able to leave you alone. 

“yuuta~” you murmur, delicate and pretty beneath the chill of yuuta’s fingertips and it makes his palms feel clammy against your skin as he moves you, pressing you back through the halls of his apartment until your back is against his bedroom door. he can barely reach for the handle, he’s too busy brushing his hands over your body now— swiping and smearing his spit messily against your lips until he’s breathless, buzzing beneath his skin before it’s you that reaches back to open it wilfully, eagerly.

“s-sorry,” he feels bad for keeping you waiting but now he’s addicted as he feels you grin against his lips, locking the apology with another sinful swipe of your tongue that has him swaying before you’re pulling away. he’s flushed to his chest, panting— but his grip on your body is still tight when you push him back until he rests on the mattress, starry-eyed and kiss drunk as you follow to climb on top.

“why’re you looking at me like that?” you ask playfully as you pull off your shirt and yuuta knows he’s staring, all adoring despite the way his gaze has always been somewhat empty, dark and void of emotion, but there’s always a dull glow when he looks at you. it’s what lovedoes to a person afterall.

“because.. you’re really pretty.” his words have a trembling undercurrent to them as he exhales, reaching up to cup his cool fingertips around the back of your neck before he’s pulling you back in to kiss him again. his next murmur is barely audible, pressed between your tongue and lips, “i.. i can’t believe you’re finally mine.”

he’s not sure if you hear him, but he feels your movements slow— even if only for a second; like you’re thinking something over in your head, like you’re considering pulling away. but he won’t let you, he cant, not now that he’s finally had a taste— you wouldn’t want to leave him so empty after all this. after you made him fall for you.

but if he makes you uncomfortable, you don’t say anything else as he breathes into you— stripping you both of your layers until you’re just in your underwear and yuuta can’t bare to keep his eyes closed when you’re soul is laid bare infront of him like this.

“would you.. um, want to sit?” he asks but it’s spoken more like an insistent plea as his hips twitch into yours, the heat of your pussy so close to him making him feel so mindless beneath you. “please.”

the question urges you to pull away to sit upright on his lap despite the way yuuta finds himself chasing your mouth, blinking up at you through his lidded gaze as you bite cutely on your lower lip. it’s plump from his teeth and kisses, he already wants it back.

“i mean.. what if i’m heavy?” you say softly, uncertainty in the question but he answers almost too quickly as his hand grabs at your own, his brows furrowing slightly while he looks up at you.

“i don’t care. i want you to, i’ve thought about it a lot.” he’s talking too much, he should stop. but yuuta needs you there, he’s thought about suffocating between your thighs, between your folds so much his chest feels tight at the thought. wont you do this one thing for him after everything he’s done for you? you owe him after how much he’s loved you.

“really? you’ve thought about me. aren’t you lewd?” your reply is playful, perfectly so as your lips smile softly and he wants nothing more than to kiss the expression off of you. even if only to keep it for himself, he doesn’t want anyone else to see you like this ever again. he considers killing anyone who already has. 

“heh—uh, i think about you alot. i just..” the pinpricks of arousal under yuuta’s skin are cracking away at his perfect little facade he’s created for you. but you’re urging him to keep going as your thighs squeeze around his waist from above,

“hm?”

“i wish.. i had all of you. the thought of you with someone else it… makes me,” he lets himself exhale as he looks up at you, something twisted swimming in his gaze that makes you look at him so softly. he hopes you can see the way that makes him feel, the thought of what’s his with somebody else, how cruel it would be on his heart— your smile falters, only slightly but he lets his hand trail down his face.

yuuta expects you to climb off of him, but instead— he feels your fingers push back the dark bangs that fall over his gaze, mused from your hands and the comforter beneath him. it’s such a soft little touch that feels so full of love it makes his heart squeeze.

“lie down, yuuta.” you exhale in reverence and he does so easily when you press your palm into his chest, urging him down as you slide your way up his body. his eyes are on your thighs and his hands follow quickly after as your knees press into the mattress beside his cheeks— kneeling above him as he pants at the puffy, damp press of your pussy in your panties.

he feels too hot for his skin but yuuta’s fingers are still cold when he hooks them beneath the flimsy fabric to pull it to the side— finally allowing him the first real look at your pussy that isn’t through a pane of glass as his cock throbs in his boxers. his fingers return to their place on your skin before he squeezes, urging you down to finally straddle his cheeks as he breathes across your glistening folds.

he starts off tentatively as he parts your folds with his tongue, suckling softly on your clit as he slurps and swallows at whatever you give him. you rock into his mouth with so much want it makes his fingers squeeze, but his eyes are still on you as you ride his mouth, humping into every flick of his tongue as he rolls it along the sensitive petals of your cunt.

“more, yuu~ please,” yuuta knows you’re holding back, thighs trembling as you try not to put too much of your weight on him but your plea makes the last string of his sanity snap before he’s releasing the limit on his strength to pull you completely into him.

you’re scared he can barely breathe but he’s holding you so tight you can barely move, this was what he wanted— what he’s been fantasising about. he wants to breathe your pussy for the rest of his life as he buries himself into you, whimpering as he explores the plains of your intimate skin with his tongue and mouth.

yuuta’s lips close around your clit once more before he nips playfully at the bud, pulling a sound out of you that’s so saccharine sweet that he swears he almost cums in his pants as he stares up at you. your lips are parted, nibbles perked up on your pretty tits as you roll the nub between your fingers and he swears he feels lightheaded at how perfect you look. all his.

“it tastes so good,” you hear him groan from his place below you and you look down to meet his gaze, his face between your thighs as you grind yourself down on his tongue, hips twisting into his mouth as he takes a ragged exhale against your pussy. his cheeks and the lower half of his face are slick with your juices as they drip down onto the sheets below him, his fingers flexing into your flesh every time your thighs tighten around his head.

“i-is it all for me?” you hear yuuta mumble under his breath before he buries himself back into you, the low, desperate tone of his voice sending vibrations straight to your clit as your hips twitch from the sudden jolt of pleasure. your fingers fall into his hair to pull just as he presses his tongue against the twitching entrance to your walls, the warmth eagerly luring him inside as your hole clenches around the muscle. “please, only me, okay?”

it feels so good you don’t even care what he’s mumbling against you because every word is like honey along your nerves, making you twitch and bounce your clit into his eager mouth as he devours you entirely. you’re just nodding, murmuring out his name but you’re feeding into his sick little fantasy like you wouldn’t believe.

“nobody else.” yuuta’s greedy, carnivorous, like he’d eat through to your heart if you’d let him. then you’d trulybelong to him, be with him forever.

“mhm, it feels so good, don’t stop—fuck.” oh he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to, you feel so much better than he could’ve ever imagined when he pulls away momentarily to slide his slender fingers between your folds, spreading you so lewdly before he’s diving back in.

yuuta’s slurping and smacking at your essence as he drinks in the very taste of you that has his cock twitching between his thighs, beads of precum gathering at the tip while he pays no mind to it—only focused on the feeling of you creaming on his tongue. it may be your first time together but you’d never believe it with how well he’s working your body, like he’s studied you— memorised every sweet sound he’s heard you pull from yourself as you flicked your pretty little clit every night. he hopes you were thinking about him.

“so soft,” he feels lightheaded at the arousal pooling in his stomach, at the need as his cock aches for any sort of friction, but he’s just so lost in you instead. “and warm,” he wraps his lips around your clit before sucking it into his mouth, allowing his tongue to roll the sensitive bud so he can feel you jerk in his hold, his large palms rocking you against his mouth as he groans against you once more.

“use me—k-keep going, please.” yuuta almost growls, his words breathless and needy and you feel the coil in your stomach tighten when you look behind you to watch his own hips twitch at the idea of you cumming on his face, paired with the pressure of you grinding down on tongue.

he can tell you’re close by the pace your hips have taken up, twitching and stuttering into his movements as your slick increases in volume, smearing along his cheeks and making such a lewd mess beneath you. his lungs quake with his next inhale, he can’t get enough breath in with how deep he’s pressed into you but he doesn’t care— he’d die for your orgasm, for your pleasure, for your love.

yuuta’s movements are almost desperate and your skin feels on fire when the pleasure races through you. you hear his own quiet moans against your cunt, almost lost between smacks and suckling noises and your thighs tremble either side of him as your hips stutter. “fuck—yuu!” you babble, your clit knocking against his nose with every buck of your hips as you drag yourself along his mouth, every desperate grind of your cunt squelching loudly as he goes between pressing his tongue into your hole and tracing messy circles around your clit.

“give me all of you.” another twisted little plea buried into your folds but the way his lidded gaze cuts up into you makes you shudder in the best way, “everything,”

and so you jolt when you feel yuuta suck your clit between his teeth once more, nibbling on the sensitive bud before your orgasm finally washes over you, causing your thighs to tighten around him in response.

but instead of pulling away he only wraps his arms around your hips, pulling you even closer until you’re pretty sure he can’t breathe at all—lapping as you cream into his mouth, tongue dipping into feel your walls squeezing down around him as he slurps and drinks everything you have to offer him.

you feel your body slacken as you ride out your orgasm, your fingers in yuuta’s hair tightening painfully despite the way it only makes him hotter as it sears through his skin. he continues to bathe your clit in kitten licks, shooting tiny aftershocks through your body—his face sticky with your essence when you finally decide to inch yourself off of him to catch your breath.

“it’s been a while since i’ve came that hard, jeez.” your laugh seems to pull him into you despite the way he’s breathing deep, he still moves with such an ease that is almost inhumane as he reaches out to swipe his thumb against your cheek affectionately.

“you looked beautiful.” yuuta replies, so neutral and honest that it makes you feel shy suddenly, like you didn’t just cream all over his face. you think you’d hide yourself in your palms if he wasn’t tilting you up to meet him, to let him kiss you once more as he sucks languidly on your tongue.

it’s messy, filthy the way he eagerly lets you taste yourself— moaning at the way the mix of spit and cream makes you melt into him before he’s easing himself between your thighs to press you into the mattress with each kiss.

“can i have you now?” he’s been ever so patient but he doesn’t think he can hold back any longer. yuuta’s need for you hurts, like an ache in his chest— he needs to have you so he knows you’re real as he eagerly pushes down the constraining fabric of his boxers, sighing with the first sting of sexual freedom as you spread your legs for him so eagerly. “i want to hurry and feel that you’re really mine, please.”

his lips smear along your cheeks as he pulls away, panting like he’s a dog in heat when you reach between your sweat slick bodies to wrap your fingers around the shaft of his cock. the press of your palm makes him shudder, drooling along the dip of your shoulder and he feels like he can’t get close enough to you as you let the blunt head roll through your sensitive folds.

“you can have me, i need you, yuu.. please.” you’re still so wet, needy despite the orgasm yuuta’s already taken for you and he knows it’s love with the way you’re grabbing at him— scratching at his shoulders just as his cock finally presses into the tight ring of your walls before he sinks into you.

the first squeeze of you around him is warm, so tight it feels like he can barely move as he sinks his teeth into the exposed skin of your shoulder until he draws blood. you shriek but he can feel the way the pain makes your pussy tremble around him, greedily luring more of him in as he pushes past the sweet spots that make your thighs twitch— beg for him. he knew you were perfect, your body feels moulded to his shape.

your back arches, urging your chest to press snug and tight against yuuta’s and he only pulls you closer— lapping at the teeth marks on your skin as he soothes the wound, hoping it leaves a mark so that your body will remember him. remember who it belongs to now.

“i waited for you..” the way he sinks into you is slow, agonisingly so but the sounds he’s pulling from you light a fuse that fizzles into something that feels even better as it bursts along his skin. it makes his toes and fingers curl when he feels your pussy squeeze down on him eagerly, rewarding the stretch of his cock the deeper he goes.

there’s still a chill to yuuta’s slender hands despite the way he’s sweating, groping just a little too hard into your waist, making him stutter out a low whimper as he drags you along his cock. he’s forcing your walls to spread open for him as he feels something ache deep in his stomach, desire heavy in each laboured breath as he takes everything you’ll give him, everything he can get.

he breathes, low and ragged, and you can only find it in yourself to reply with a sound that’s high pitched and needy when you finally feel the weight of his hips press tight against yours as he bottoms out.

“and it’s.. all mine now.” yuuta’s voice sounds needier than he expects and his eyes flutter closed when he finally pulls his hips back after a few moments, drawing his cock out of you as he feels the way your pussy squeezes down around him tight in response.

it’s like you’re trying to lure back in every inch you lose — begging him to stay and to never leave you, to press deeper into you before his fingers dig bruises into your hips and he’s doing just that, beginning a steady pace with another slow withdrawal and a staggered breath.

the first real, deep kiss of yuuta’s cock has your toes curling as he hugs you closer — his face rests just over the crook of your neck so you can hear the way he pants and growls softly between your moans, smearing kisses against your cheek everytime he turns to take in the sight of you beneath him.

you’re so pretty, too pretty that he can barely contain his thoughts— his love when your head turns to meet his gaze and it makes his pace stutter before he can even find his rhythm.“i.. i love you.” the confession slips, it’s hushed but it’s heavy, pressing you into the mattress as your eyes suddenly widen and you stiffen despite the way he remains lost in you with his next thrust, “it’s so good.”

“huh? uh..” your lips part to stop him but it breaks into a whine as the blunt head of his cock presses against the spots inside of you, making you twitch before you’re pushing into his chest to give him a confused look.

thankfully, yuuta picks up on the way your legs aren’t squeezing around him anymore— missing the red marks your nails were trailing against his skin in a way that makes him pull back, maybe slightly panic at the expression he’s met with that isn’t the pure adoration he expects. “are you okay? did i hurt you?” his hands are trying so hard to soothe you as they trail down your skin, but you’re not melting into him like you should. did he do something wrong?

“no it’s just..” you begin, albeit a little awkwardly considering the dude you’ve been on three dates with just told you he loves you while he was balls deep for the firsttime might you add. “um, isn’t it a bit soon for that?”

but still, because you like him— you suffer through the confrontation as you bite on your lower lip. “i’m not even your girlfriend yet.”

yuuta’s never thought about it like that. he never realised that you guys weren’t as serious as you must’ve wanted, all of this time he’d assumed you were his girlfriend but you must’ve wanted him to ask. that’s why you were so reluctant to accept his love, because you were scared it wasn’t there to begin with. but because he really does love you, he’s always going to be there to reassure you.

“i don’t think it’s too soon.. it’s how i feel.” his eyes are on you as he reaches forward, his fingers curling around yours before he pulls your hand to rest on his chest— so you can feel the way his heart is beating at his ribs, like it’s begging you to reach in and pull it out. “can you feel it. it’s my love.”

yuuta’s stare is searing as it burns through you and it makes your fingers curl against his chest slightly, like you’re ready to pull away but he’s strong— he keeps you there despite the way he feels you tense.

“yuuta..” you press your free hand between your brows, still a little confused— maybe a little aroused at what’s happening but you’d rather not sort through those feelings just yet, so you continue. “we’ve been on three dates.”

yuuta feels like he’s being scolded, was it really so bad for him to love you? why aren’t you so eager to accept him when he knows you feel it too, the way you look at him is with love, he knows you’re lying to him. “but.. but you said i could have all of you.” he tries to hush the hiss to his voice but his gaze on you doesn’t falter despite the way you wish you could look away, he holds you there.

“i’m sorry, are you going to leave?” he asks the question like you’ve got the choice but the grip on your fingers tightens like he wouldn’t let you go regardless.

“no, just.. i like you but maybe just slow down a little, okay?” it was an olive branch, a proposal that you feel like would work best for both of you. you watch the way he softens at that, like you’re watching a wild animal accept it’s first pet from a human hand.

“okay,” yuuta’s acceptance is a quiet lull but any disappointment he had is pushed back by his own desire when you lead him back between your legs. your mouth is saying one thing but your heart is calling for him, pussy luring him back in like it’ll die without him and he wonders if maybe you’re just protecting your heart. he wants to tell you there’s no need, he’ll never hurt you.. aslong as you love him that is.

but anything he wants to say is quickly overcome by the twist in his gut when he’s back in your walls, feeling them squeeze and tremble around him like it’s a skin to skin confession on its own.

another clap of yuuta’s hips with yours and your head tilts up to meet him for a kiss as your lips curl around his, tongue tracing the length of his own until you’re whining. if you didn’t love him, why is your hand so accepting to intertwine with his own, why does it feel like you’re making love rather than just fucking. your mouth slots against his perfectly and your pussy begs for every inch it loses. so why won’t you admit it’s love.

“i.. i just get scared i’ll lose you forever if i let you go.” he feels mindless when your hips grind up to meet every thrust, the pace hes set isn’t fast but it’s enough to have you both whining against each others lips as he drives into you. he’s spurred on by the sweet sounds that break from your throat, your voice taking a dreamier lull than hes used to — it’s more needy, more intoxicating. it makes his words even more true as he feels the jealousy simmer along his skin.

“if someone took you from me, i’d kill them.” yuuta doesn’t know if he’s dreaming but he swears he feels your walls squeeze around him at that, your lips breaking away from his to gasp and he still doesn’t know why you won’t accept his love when you’re accepting of this. he’ll kill everyone who’s ever touched you if it’ll prove his heart is true.

you look at him, and he thinks it’s unfair they way you gaze at him so tenderly, it’s so cruel when you won’t just tell him the truth. “you won’t lose me. i’m here.” your words make his hand squeeze around yours as your body claps against his and he kisses over your skin, lips gliding along your heightened nerves so softly it has you twitching. you’re squeezing down around him until his breathing hitches and it’s almost like he feels the tight hug of your cunt in his fucking lungs.

“then stay forever.” yuuta’s words are emphasised by a particularly slow grind, grazing his pelvis against your swollen clit until you’re jolting at the small aftershock that races through you — still sensitive from your orgasm as his cock digs out the next.

he feels your nails grab at his shoulders, no doubt leaving more pretty crimson marks along the muscle there before his pace inevitably speeds up. you’re marking him as yours so eagerly, he can already imagine how pretty they look from behind.

but yuuta’s gripping so tight into your hips he’ll surely leave bruises of his own as you bask in the pleasure only he brings you. you give up all that you can as your hormone-hazed mind has you breathing out a regrettable “okay, forever.”

he buries himself back into the crook of your neck with the next sinful squeeze of your walls around him, dizzy from your words in a way that makes his hips stutter as he buries another ragged whimper into your skin. he repositions his knees to begin a pace that’s a little faster, needier until each smack of his hips is loud and clapping and every quick thrust leaves you breathless, beginning to lose his pace as he presses deep into your body.

“c-can you give him this part of you first? i need to feel it.” your orgasm he means as he gulps, words like his own plea as he lets his fingers on your hips trace between your bodies to roll your puffy clit in sticky circles. yuuta’s pairing it with the back and forth stutter of his hips as he digs your orgasm out of you — breathing hard when he feels your pussy throb around him.

“yes! can give you it, fuck! gonna cum again, yuu..” you cry for him and he fucking moans as his hips press snug and tight against yours with the first milking compression of your walls around his cock. he’s panting against your neck, biting and suckling hungrily at the skin as he coaxes and eases you through another mind-numbing orgasm, the pleasure hitting you so hard and good it almost hurts as you cream around him.

“b-baby, please. can i cum?” wont you let him give you his pleasure and his heart, yuuta asks so needily but he doesn’t stop even when you’re panting and gasping out yesyesyes with each shockwave of bliss he fucks through you. his cock finally throbs inside of your soaked pussy as he gives into the needy coax of your body — rewarding you with the orgasm you’ve earned from him, the one you ownas he presses his load into you, burying it into you like he’s staking a claim.

he pulls away to kiss you as he does, whining long and low against the soft press of your lips as he cums thick and heavy inside of you, shuddering when he feels your tongue push against his and he almost pins you completely underneath him as he continues to fuck into your sensitive pussy.

yuuta offers you a few more shallow thrusts before he falls onto you, rolling into his side despite the way he keeps his hand intertwined with your own as he catches his breath. his gaze is still soft when he pulls away to meet your own drowsy one, squeezing affectionately at your skin when he watches the way your thighs tremble as his softening cock pulls out of you.

“are you okay?” he asks and the soft pull of his voice feels like honey when you’re in your post-orgasm state, letting him trail and massage his fingers down the length of your spine as he gazes over you affectionately. you nod softly, and he leans in to rest his lips against your forehead as your eyes flutter closed.

“do you want to stay here? i have clothes you can wear.” yuuta gives you a few seconds to respond, to think over the question and he’s pretty sure this isn’t what taking it slow meant. but you’re also his girlfriend now, right? that’s what you meant when you said that.

your relaxed expression is something soft as he looks over you, but the sudden furrow of your brows makes his soft smile falter when you open up your eyes again to send him a glare.

“no thanks, i’d rather not wear some random girls panties.” yuuta’s a little taken off guard by your response but you’re pouting; are you jealous? assuming that the clothes he’s talking about must belong to somebody else, maybe a woman before you? he can’t deny the way the thought makes something in his heart bloom, what’s jealousy if not love?

“no. you’re the only one i’ve ever had here.” he tries not to let the giddiness sound in his voice so he keeps his response neutral but honest, earning himself a look that urges him to continue.. to put you at ease as your new boyfriend.

“i bought them.. for you.” that’s half true. yuuta did leave his apartment to go get them but actually, he took them. from your apartment. he was thinking about your comfort afterall, he even picked up a few of your shirts for when you stay over, he’s sure you’ll be thanking him when you find out. although he’d much prefer you in his, that way people will know.

“oh.. you knew i was coming over?” was a question that he hadn’t exactly prepared for though as you tilt your head at him. he doesn’t want you to think he planned this. no, he only longed for it, but that doesn’t mean he had alterier motives.. he’d love you even if you hadn’t came back to his apartment today. but you would have been brought here eventually.

“it.. was maki’s idea. i think she meant it as a joke, hah— maybe i took it too seriously. sorry.” yuuta will need to make sure that alibi isn’t confirmed by you though. although he’s thankful that he’s always been able to rely on maki as a friend, maybe he should thank her for that later on.

“ofcourse it was, just wait until i get a hold of her.” it’s maybe a little too quickly, the way yuuta pulls away from you as you go off in your tangent about your friend. he’s sure if you’re phone wasn’t lying somewhere discarded amongst the clothes on the floor you’d be texting her right now.

it hurts to leave your warmth but he’s eager now, to see the pretty expression on your face when he hands over the panties he’s sure you’ve been missing. maybe you’ll finally admit your feelings for him after this. he gives you a reassuring, soft smile as he crosses his room, reaching into the drawers in the corner before he’s returning to hand you the panties as he rests them in your palm.

“oh! i have these ones already actually.” yuuta thinks it’s adorable the way you take them from him, fingers lingering on his a little longer before you’re fiddling curiously with the lace. but he doesn’t like the look that seems to cross your features a few moments later, albeit quickly before it’s gone again. “i’ve.. not been able to find them.. for a while though.”

he always thought you looked good in those ones, they’d caught his eyes on the nights you opted for only them and a shirt as your pyjamas. he thought you’d be happy to see them again, but you’re not meeting his gaze now and he doesn’t like that.

“really? do you want to try them on.. for me?” yuuta tries, attempts to lure you back to him as his arm outstretches, fingertips softly smoothing along your cheek and he hatesthe way you shiver ever so slightly at the touch this time. don’t you love him? why are you acting this way? like you’re going to leave him. you have the same expression on your face as you did back at the cafe.

do you really believe he’s going to let you out of his sight now that he finally has you?

“maybe.. after i shower.”

© gojoath. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[bella-goths-wife]

how did the Vs pet die? i’ve seen it briefly mentioned in a few posts but i haven’t found a direct answer and i’m really interested!!

i also remember you mentioning that there was “hours of interrogation” from the Vs to get the reader to talk about her death, and i would looove to hear more about that of you wouldnt mind ^^ !

How did pet reader die and end up in hell?

Warning: description of death, drug use, reader hooks up with people, reader does objectively bad things

You were always a party person

You had been since you were young, having snuck into your first party when you were fourteen

You liked how they helped you escape your own mind, they took you away from the things that had to always be in control over and offered you a way to let go of the reigns for a few hours

But your favourite type of party was a rave

Something about the fun outfits and the way the music would thump and vibrate through your whole body just made something in you feel complete

You quickly became obsessed attending raves and you even dated a DJ to get into raves for free for a brief time and he taught you how to use the turn tables

But growing up in those types of environments screwed you up and made you chase a high better then drugs, a freedom that your family just didn’t allow you to have

You craved the nights of out of control drinking and dancing until you were a panting mess

You tried everything to replace the high you got from going to raves, you screwed people when you were bored and you did drugs with your friends but nothing replaced how free you felt when you were partying

So you chased your high and went to any raves going, and consequently dragged your friends with you

They didn’t really feel as addicted to partying as you did, so when you came to them and pleaded with them to come with you to the latest sketchy rave you found

After enough begging they came with under the condition you wouldn’t stay there all night

You partied for hours and hours before a stranger offered you some pills in exchange for cash

You had a weird relationship with drugs, you weren’t addicted but you did find yourself craving the euphoria they brought

So you bought enough for all your friends and begged them to do them with you

Your friends wanted to refuse and claimed that they didn’t wanna get caught by security

You got mad and then desperate as you pleaded with them to just do the pills with you, too scared to go home and face what’s waiting for you and just wanting to keep the party going

You offered to show them underneath the DJ stage so they could all do the pills without getting caught

Your friends hesitantly agreed mostly because they didn’t want you to do anything stupid

So you went under the stage during the rave and took your pills, unaware that the last show of the night was about to play

The constant vibrations from the music had caused the stage to become more unstable as the night went one, and you were all stood directly underneath it as you did your drugs on the muddy ground

Your friends had tried to warn you, but you were too high and too focused on the music to listen

They started screaming when they saw the foundations begin to shake and cracks begin to form in the cheaply made stage

But you didn’t listen, did you?

The metal of the stage hit your friends before they hit you, trapping them to the ground and killing them quickly as the metal poles pierced their chests and faces

You were more unfortunate in that case, as the metal poles only incapacitated you as they they pierced the skin of you arm and pinned you to the ground

The rubble of the stage fell close to your face and scarred the sides of them as you bled heavily but you still were not put out your misery as you screamed from pure agony

The turn table came next as it fell directly on your chest and broke your ribs, you can still hear the crack of the bones late at night when you fool yourself into thinking you could sleep

But still it was not enough to kill you, as you cried out in pain and your friends blood from their dead bodies mixed with the mood beneath your body

It was like god was trying to punish you for your selfish actions, trying to show you what happens to stupid, selfish little girls who disobey the warnings of their mothers and hurt their friends

You saw a large metal sheet hand above your head at the very top of the stage, it’s razor sharp edge glinted in the moonlight tauntingly at you as you spat up your own blood

You could hear the people surrounding the stage scream out at the realisation of the damage that the collapse had caused

You looked at your dead friends as their lifeless eyes started back before looking back at the sheet of metal daringly

You thought about all the mistakes of your life, all the things you could have been and all the things you should have done

You thought about your friends families receiving the news that their children were dead, all because of you

“Do it” you dared the sheet with your mind before your daring turned into begging “do it please, I deserve it”

The sheet fell in a dramatic motion and the razor sharp edge removed your head from your body in seconds

You remember waking up in hell and being afraid, but the memories of your death made you know that you deserved to be here

You deserved all the bad things that would happen to you, that’s how you saw things

You rarely talked about your death out of shame and anger, but the Vs forced the truth out of you quickly

The topic became something they either used to mock you with or stayed away from out of concern that it would cause a breakdown where you would hurt yourself again

Your reasoning for allowing their behaviour became very clear to them after finding out about your gruesome death

You felt like you deserved every harsh word or cruel punishment, you felt like it wasn’t enough payback for your actions

They used this to their advantage as they reinforced the idea that yes, you did deserve it

And you knew you did deep down

But Charlie didn’t think so, and after she was told your story she’s more determined to have you redeemed then ever before

This is probably trash but I’m sick and here we are 🤷‍♀️

Tag list so far:

@lilyalone @repostingmyfavs @buttercupfangirl @fandomaddict505 @hazbinhotelxreader @perkypeony @idontreallyexistyet @sparkleyfishies @the-faceless-bride @corvid007 @ivebeenthearchersstuff

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞♡𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐬 🔞 Heatwave

Who said every omega needs an alpha?

Tags/Warnings: Omega!Jungkook, Omega!Reader, Stereotypes, Friends to lovers, Major Fluff, Romance, angst, Dom!Jungkook, protected sex, smut, multiple rounds, knotting, biting!, messy

Length: 2.5k

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

♥━━━━━━━━━━━♡━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Agony.

Jungkook can feel the growing frustration between you both as your heats collide, apartment already stuffy with the smell of your past pitiful attempts at soothing any of the bubbling hunger. But it's no use- you both can't seem to find any release from one another, and the smell of your combined misery is making it all just so much worse, continuously putting fuel into the fire that's trying to consume you both whole.

He wants to help you. You want to help him- but maybe this is the proof you both had wanted to overlook when it came to your relationship, and the future of it all. Or, rather, the lack of a future.

Do you need an alpha after all?

He finds you sleeping on the bathroom floor now, trying desperately to cool off again as your fever hits and burns you from the inside. He himself doesn't have such severe symptoms since he's learned to just endure, and his body is able to handle the effects a lot better than yours. Male Omegas don't go through the exact same process as females do, and he's reminded of that right now.

And he hates it. He hates that he wants to help you, provide, comfort you- but he's equally as distressed over the entire situation, brought to a breaking point.

He's sitting close to you now, and you instantly cling onto him, laying your head in his lap- seeking him out, despite the pure failure of his attempts at being your perfect partner.

"I can call Yoongi-" he offers, despite his own mind screaming at him not to. He doesn't want anybody near you, not in this state, since he's your mate- but if you need someone else to help you get through this, he will bow down and cave in.

"No!" You instantly complain despite your need for someone to offer you aid, shaking your head because this is another issue Jungkook has been noticing ever since your shared heat began. You absolutely do not want anyone but Jungkook around, refuse to let anyone else inside this apartment. He himself is lost by now- he obviously can't force you to accept Yoongis help, but he also knows by now that he is not enough.

Has he cursed you now with your love for him, a person who cannot give you what you need? He feels guilty.

And neither can you offer him any release- and it's starting to weigh on you heavily, he knows that. It makes his frustration grow, makes his instincts harder to control, makes his body feel heavy.

He can't just give it up like this. He loves you- why can't that be enough?!

An hour later, you're both back in bed, entangled in the sheets already soiled with your slick and tears and sweat, and he's trying, he really is. One last time, giving it his all, summoning all the strength he can find in himself. He can't let you go like this, not until he's forced to admit defeat. He can love you right. He can be your person.

His muscles are aching, trembling beneath his skin as he tries desperately to tip over the edge. But he can't.

It's not enough.

He's so close to giving up. He can't put you through this any longer.

"I love you..!" He pushes out between his clenched teeth, leaning into the crook of your neck, kissing open mouthed, your skin long bruised and bitten, but its no use. Even now, as he pushes his hips as deep as he can, your legs trying to keep him going, he can't do anything about it. "I love you so much.." He breaks down, crying because the defeat consumes him as he realizes his strength is leaving him.

His body is so heavy. He feels like he weighs tons now.

You hook your ankles together over his back before your own hips begin to move desperately, thrusting upwards in a rapid pace, urgency clear in the way you act as your arousal stains your shared skin yet again- body desperate for anything. "Baby..-" he wants to argue, the sight of your frustrated tears top much to handle, but you shake your head, suddenly charging at him to change positions.

You can't let him give up like this. You're enough, and so is he. You have to make this work- because if you don't, what's gonna happen to you both?

You're on top of him now, clinging to him, hips smacking loudly down onto him, cock painfully sensitive at this point.

He wants to tell you to stop, that it's useless, but he's clinging onto hope as well as he lets you try and help. He's offering his own aid to keep you moving, hands having a grip that will surely bruise after this pitiful attempt, but he can't help it any longer.

This is torture.

Suddenly, you cry out, a sound so broken it hurts him deep inside his soul. You're sobbing, and he's crying too, when you suddenly bite him, hard, a sense of desperate aggression with it-

And you hold on, you keep your canines in his skin until it breaks and the taste of iron fills your mouth.

But you can't really comprehend anything past that moment really, because Jungkook has suddenly been possessed by something you're not sure of, a growl leaving him as he manhandles you around, hands and knees unable to keep yourself upright after these past exhausting few days as he's turned you over, but it doesn't matter. His hands under your body, right beneath your stomach, keep you upright as he pushes himself back inside you, arms moving to hold you close, bring you into proper position to bite you back-

-just as much force involved, heavy breaths exhaling out of his nose while he moves his hips at a rapid pace, your release sudden, and erratic, causing you to cry out into the blankets below in absolute euphoria, fingers gripping the sheets as you finally tip over the edge, staining the sheets and his skin in the process.

And so does Jungkook, letting go of your neck now to almost whimper himself as his knot forms, arms pulling you closer, balls tightening as your spasming core brings him to his first release in days.

His brain is empty, nothing there but instincts as he licks over your neck to soothe your wound, your warm skin and soft sighs calming down his breathing, before he's slowly loosing to the exhaustion, both of you falling to your sides on the disheveled bed, his knot keeping you both connected for quite a while as he spurts his cum into you, before he's finally able to slip out of you.

You're gaping, white release of his leaking out in small waves, and his hand instantly moves to lazily push it back in.

Something's happened. This is different. He feels different- do you as well?

You do.

His hand on your core is heavenly to you, fingers rubbing his cum over your sensitive center making you open your legs immediately, and he pulls himself up into a different position, helping his still hard length back inside you from his laid down position behind you.

What's going on?

As if a veil has lifted, numbness resolved, his skin is suddenly tingling. He feels every muscle inside you hugging his length, no urgency no more as he fucks you slowly, cum stained sheets no bother to him as his now free hands hold your chest, before he angles your face enough to kiss you.

A spark, sharp and bright, and now he's no longer blind to it all. Like a bandaid ripped off in one go. Bitter medicine taken with one gulp. First it's bad, but it's just a moment- and after it, comes the better part. The relief. The tranquility.

This orgasm is softer, calming, relaxing, as you milk him for all he's got.

You both finally sleep after this moment, for quite a while, before you wake up once more, your legs sleepily kicking away the soiled sheets. Jungkook watches, mesmerized, how you roll around happily, playfully reaching out to touch him, his skin, smiling with eyes full of love. He's not sure what's happened. His own mind is hazy, and he can't bring himself to form any serious thoughts.

All he knows is that you're happy, and that makes him just as happy in return.

You shiver, and his instincts kick in.

Instantly he begins to nest, forms a secure wall of blankets around your body before he joins you in it all, body shielding you, holding you, another blanket over you both. His kisses are soft, barely felt, but they're there, and they're making you purr softly, a sound he believes to be heaven.

You're happy. He made you happy. He made it.

Who the hell needs an alpha?

You're riding him not even an hour after, no urgency at all, just pure pleasure chased as he leans his head back into the pillows, eyes closed, your hands in his. This feels better than any heat he's experienced before, your hips rolling and jumping just right every time, as he pulls you closer, hugs you against his chest, and angles his heels into the bed below to thrust up into you, your lips kissing the wound you've caused, sensitive skin causing him to erupt in goosebumps before he cums without a knot this time, release still fulfilling, you yourself whining as he watches your thighs shake from the force of your own orgasm that you ride out to its fullest.

And when he lifts you up for his length to slip out, cum and your arousal leaking out, he's hypnotized, hand reaching out to touch you, helping you lay down next to him, as he gives you one more soft moment of pleasure, before you both just enjoy yourselves again.

The heat is no longer there. It's no longer suffocating inside this room, despite the smells and stuffy air. This feels safe. Comfortable. Relaxing.

He's got you. You have him, as well.

What more do you need?

The day after, he's finally a little more clear in his head, helping you change the sheets and put what's soiled in the wash, before he has you on his lap, barely dressed in panties and a shirt, eating a small meal and drinking something to rehydrate yourself. He can't help but stare at your neck, a very distinctive mark amongst all the bruising attempts he'd made, a little red around the edges, puncture points scabbed over.

It looks just like an alpha's mark. Will it stay, too?

He's seen his own mark you've left, and it looks equally as similar. But that can't be true, can it?

"You both alright?" Comes Yoongis voice from the speaker of his phone, set on the table close by as Jungkook helps you turn around on his lap to lean against his chest now, as you're still in clear need of physical comfort. "I was wondering how you're doing." He says, and Jungkook runs his hands over your back as you seek his warmth, head resting against him.

"Something happened." Jungkook says, holding you securely, exhaustion still heavy in his bones. "And I.. I'm unsure what exactly went down." He reveals.

"I hope you're both okay." Yoongi worries, and Jungkook adjusts you a little.

"We are. I think?" He sighs. "I'm not sure."

"What happened?" Yoongi asks, something clattering in the background, before a door opening and closing is heard in the background.

"We had.. issues. For the most part." Jungkook admits. "I was close to giving up, I really was. Because she was.. just suffering so much, and I was scared.." He explains, before he remembers that one breaking point. "…and then she bit me, you know, in the same spot she always does- but.. it was different. Things are different now- it feels.. odd." He admits.

"She claimed you?" Yoongi wonders, before he chuckles. "Didn't think she had it in her." He jokes.

"She's a pure omega though? Just like I am." Jungkook asks, confused.

"Did you finish the bond?" Yoongi wonders on the other end of the line- and Jungkook looks at your mark, before he answers.

"I mean.. I think? I bit her back just as hard, and now her mark looks the same as mine." He explains.

"So you did. Well, congrats." He says, voice noticeably lighter now. "I can look at it once you both are out of heat if you want, but it does sound like a proper bond to me." He hums.

"…I've never had one before, so I can't tell." Jungkook confesses. And it's true- he's never been bonded to anyone before you came, and he's never even wanted to be bonded to anyone before you either. This is new. A little frightening.

"Like I said, I'll take a look once you're both back out the cave." Yoongi laughs. "I hope you're otherwise alright? Do you need anything?"

"She ate something, and I got a bottle of water into her." Jungkook chuckles, feeling a bit better now that he's spoken to someone.

"And you?" The alpha wonders, catching him off guard. Jungkook isn't asked often how he feels or what he needs- its another thing he's still learning, another thing that's new when it comes to you. Because you care for him and about him- you're so nurturing towards him that it feels a little like he shouldn't accept it.

"I.. I ate too, don't worry." Jungkook offers a little unsteady because of that.

"Alright. I'll still have Jiminie drop off some stuff for you later today. Just to make sure." He says, and Jungkook feels a little warm.

"Okay. Thank you." Jungkook says.

"No problem. I consider you both part of the pack, after all." Yoongi laughs easily.

"Pack?" Jungkook wonders, the word making even you open your eyes a bit, eyes on the phone on the table.

"Hmhm. It's an alpha thing, don't worry about it." He simply chuckles, before he offers his goodbyes, and hangs up.

And somehow, after hearing that- Jungkook realizes he's never had to face any of this alone. He's always had support all around him- he just had this agenda drilled into him ever since he was a pup that he had to do things on his own, or otherwise they won't be his achievements. The only way to be something, was to be something all by yourself.

But, with you in his arms, happily leaning into him, he realizes, that that's not true.

He's not alone, not on his own, and he's apparently capable of so much more than what he's been told.

And you're so, so special to him.

So special in fact, that apparently, you've broken yet another stereotype with nothing but your love, raw and untamed.

You're bonded.

[helluvapoison]

Hi!!! For the injury promts, could i ask for prompt 6+dialogue 17 with Lucifer? Im down so bad for this man-

you make it easy

warning: blood, violence, ooc(?), angsty and dramatic

Stars, he should’ve accepted your offer when you asked to join him on this morning’s errands. He was a fool to think his good mood would last.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

Believe it or not, there was a time when Lucifer noticed everything. The sky is brighter than it was yesterday, he would say to no one, he simply noticed. Nowadays it was harder, a struggle to live outside his own mind. There was a passing thought every now and again. Hey, that lamp is new or Charlie’s nails match Maggie’s. But even those came at the worst times and he never pointed them out when he should, be it in the middle of an argument or entirely different conversation. Determined, he kept trying. More than that, he tried to see his world through his daughter’s eyes, to see that there could be good in the strangest places.

It was hard when the looming cloud of misery and evil followed him every time he tried to leave the hotel. The only time it didn’t was when he was accompanied by you. Charlie, as good natured and pure as she somehow was, was biased. Lilith’s doing, of course. His ex-wife made it seem like Lucifer’s decision was a gift and not the curse that it really was. But you… you were magical. You held an umbrella he couldn’t see that kept him safe from the endless troubles he made with his own two hands. While he knew he had every capability to protect himself physically, the inner workings of his mind was an entirely different story. Besides, it was, admittedly, nice to have someone else do it simply because.

You didn’t want anything from him. You just thought he was worth the effort.

If only he could think the same for himself. Not even two blocks into town did the thick clouds gather into a storm above his crown. It whipped and raged in his mind, hissing what he already knew. He wasn’t. God was punishing him for a reason and that reason stared him in the face every waking moment in Hell. Piles of bodies, gallons of blood, drugs, sex, etc. Not an hour could go by without seeing it all. So who could blame him when he lost sight of Charlie’s dream in the fog of guilt and self pity? How was he supposed to notice anything other than the deplorable sinners and their heinous ways?

He rounded the first corner he could, gasping and clutching at his vest. Whistle leaning against the cool bricks, a shadow stretched toward him. He saw. He saw the demon, he saw the jagged knife and he saw the intent in their eyes. Going against the King of Hell was a suicide mission but Lucifer saw exactly what they wanted from him. Retribution.

In all but a moment it was over. Red blood splattered on the alley wall opposite to him, merely adding to the number of stains it had worn over the centuries. Golden blood though? WItnessing that was a treat indeed. Through the tear in Lucifer’s ivory suit he could see it dribbling down his arm. As his eyes traveled over his attire he could see it was also blighted by the demon’s blood. That took precedence over his own injury but at the time he was grateful for the distraction. The news would lap up a scandal with the Morningstar name on it–

He needed to leave.

Lucifer attempted to summon his wings but they refused to budge. The sky was unsafe to them. It felt as if a thousand eyes were judging him from above. Fuck the news— Heaven was judging him.

He needed to hide.

The man slammed the end of his cane against the ground, instantly conjuring a portal that dropped him unceremoniously into your room.

A guttural growl ripped from his throat as he took in his surroundings of your belongings, “No! No, you stupid–!”

“Lucifer?”

You performed magic once again; turning gold into ice and freezing him in place with his back to you. He begged the wall for answers. What should he say? What should he do? Why the fuck did his magic bring him here when he just wanted to–

“Is that– Fuck! You’re bleeding!” You gasped

“Am I? I hadn’t noticed! Funny story, I didn’t mean to intrude– you know me, a gentleman should always knock– so I’ll just get out of your hair.”

As he spoke you’d scrambled over and stole any chance he had of absconding out of there. His voice got smaller and smaller until it was nonexistent. You reached not for his arm but for his coat, pulling it back to reveal a bigger patch of gold seeping through his vest.

“Oh that can’t be good.” He muttered, more annoyed than anything.

“Ok, uh, fuck. Fuck. You stay here and I’ll get—”

The second he felt you withdraw he whipped around and snatched your wrist like a lifeline. Your chest puffed with a smaller, quieter gasp as you drank in his appearance. Covered in more blood than just his own, he looked utterly panicked. Less than few had seen the king this way.

“No! No, I-I-I can’t have anyone see,” Daring to look down at himself, he foolishly thought maybe the gorey reminder wouldn't be there. And like a fool he winced when it was, “this. Please don’t tell anyone— Especially not Charlie.”

There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation in you, just a firm nod that filled him with relief.

“You’ll do everything I say then.” You bartered, though it wasn’t much of an option.

Lucifer’s heart threatened to plummet to his stomach. He tried desperately to blink away the fog of doubt that lingered. You wouldn’t blackmail him… would you?

“I… Yes? W-Well, what do you want?”

“I don’t want anything—! Er. I mean, I guess I want you to listen and be still while I clean you up? I’ll probably have to burn this before Al sniffs it out. And Nifty’s been going through my shit again so it’ll take me a minute to find…”

You began talking to yourself and Lucifer tuned your voice to background noise when he heard all he needed to. Of course you wouldn’t blackmail him, he felt horrible he even doubted that!

The word ridiculous came to mind as he looked up to try and spot that invisible umbrella you always seemed to be holding for him. While Lucifer searched the air, you got to work. He was malleable for your gentle hands, allowing you to strip his upper half and discard the evidence in the fireplace of your room (he didn’t complain, you’ve seen his suit collection) You diligently cleaned both cuts with utmost care, surpassing what he deemed acceptable and ignoring him when he said exactly that. Only when his skin was porcelain again did you bandage them with a nearly depleted first aid kit you kept under your bed.

“Here, it might be big on you but it beats freezing. The sixth floor has a vendetta against working heaters so it gets chilly here. That's why I keep the fireplace on all night.” You rambled as you pulled one of your own shirts over Lucifer’s head. He noted it was one of your favorites as he had seen you wear it often. Sometimes days in a row! He was more than honored; he was on cloud nine! If this is how you felt when you wore it, he’d never take it off.

“Thank you.” Lucifer said softly. For everything, he didn’t add.

“Anytime,” You replied dutifully. Then casually killed him with, “You can have my bed, by the way. I’ll take the sofa.”

“That-That’s much too generous. You’ve already done so much, I—“

“If it were me, would you let me leave?”

His eyebrows nearly shot up and off his head. The very thought of you bruised and bleeding in his room had flames licking the back of his throat. He needed to expel the smoke through a sigh, covering it up with a fist to his mouth, mumbling,

“You know I wouldn’t.”

“My sentiments exactly. So get your royal ass in the bed… Your majesty.” You bowed low and perfectly, keeping eye contact with him all throughout your bit.

A minuscule laugh escaped him and you beamed seeing your efforts were not in vain.

“Fine. Well… we could, ah, both fit in your bed. If you wanted! I-I’m just looking at it a-and that sofa is not an adequate sleeping area for you. Much too small.” He squinted at your couch disapprovingly, pursing his lips as he pretended his heart wasn’t about to leap out of his chest.

You stood to your full height, seemingly considering the offer, “Only if you’re sure I wouldn’t hurt you.”

Already pulling back the covers for both of you, he scoffed and actually tried to shoo your worries away with a wave of his hand.

“Hurt me? No one can hurt— Oh. Hm. You caught me on a bad day, I can’t say what I normally do.” Lucifer tucked his hooves under the blankets as he spoke, waiting for your cue of laughter that never came.

The bed dipped beside him, much closer than he was anticipating. Your forehead melted against the top of his fluffy, blonde hair. He watched your hands twitch, longing to embrace him but too cautious for your own good. If he wasn’t such a coward he would close the distance himself.

“I didn’t know you could get hurt.” You sighed heavily, finally releasing what had troubled you since you saw him.

Lucifer’s brows dipped in concern but he kept his eyes trained on the burning fireplace across the way, “Anyone can get hurt down here.”

“That shouldn’t be possible. You’re the king.”

“You’re going to give me a big head, darling. Being a king doesn’t exempt me from pain. There’s quite a few ex-kings down here that could tell you that,” He attempted to laugh. Subconsciously his hand landed over his bandaged side, rubbing the soft fabric of your well-loved shirt. “I’ll be alright. Besides it wasn’t an angelic weapon so it wasn’t a serious assassination atte—“

“What?” You reeled back with wide eyes, kneeling beside him and gripping his shoulders lightly, silently begging him to focus, “Wha-What do you mean!? People have tried to kill you before!?”

He stared at you like you asked him why the sky was red. He didn’t understand your panic but he knew he didn’t like it.

“Well… yes? Yours truly isn’t only hated by Heaven. There’s plenty of people down here that pray for the royals' downfall, Hellborn and sinners.” Lucifer tilted his head, confusion had his brows furrowing, “But they can’t kill me.”

“But-But you said it probably wasn’t serious? How do you know? Who did this to you; what did they look like? I-I’ll go find them and—“

“Good golly, breathe! Just let it go, it doesn't matter.”

Your eyes flashed red to let him know the fire of your fury you was blazing. But your eyes glassed over as well, pupils shrinking and jumping across his face like you were memorizing every detail. You held him so gently, like he was going to disappear if you let go.

“Yes it does! It matters to me because you matter to me, Lucifer!”

You were scared.

“I-I—“ He was dizzy with euphoric disbelief. You could tell him every day that you cared about him and he would become breathless every damn time. “I killed them.” He managed to choke out.

You didn’t immediately relax like he had hoped you would. Exhaling through your nose you nodded once that hit him with another magical wave of pride, solidifying his choice and making him sit slightly straighter.

“Good.” Your voice dropped dangerously for a moment. He was presented with the terrifying reminder that you are a sinner, you’re down here for a reason. He couldn’t linger on the fact when the red wisped away from your eyes and returned to the lovely shade he remembered and adored. “That’s why you didn’t want Charlie to know.”

“Anyone,” He corrected softly before his voice turned almost bitter, “No one can know. It might give people the wrong impression if their king did the opposite of what his daughter’s hotel represented. Not-Not that I care what they think but… I don’t want to let her down. Again.”

You practically pulled him in your lap, tucking your chin against his shoulder and sighing heavily. Your warm breath tickled his skin and sent every hair he had standing at attention.

“Your secret’s safe with me.” You promised.

“How.. is it so easy for you to say that?”

“I dunno.” You said all too honestly, pulling back slightly to rest your forehead on his, “Some people make it easy.”

Content with that answer, for once his mind quieted and stilled. He melted against you until he was safely tangled in your embrace.

[ktkpopping]

Burn

summary: following a devastating breakup, your best friend Mingi helps you to put yourself back together

Hello again!! This fic was inspired solely by how Mingi says “burn it” in Outlaw. I heard it and immediately had the thought that it would make a cool fic idea. If you like some angst and a lot of hurt/comfort, then this is the fic for you!!

This fic can be read as gender-neutral! There are no identifying traits to mc or their ex-partner.

warnings: depictions of depression and anxiety throughout the story. This is a fic following a nasty breakup and the mc struggles in the aftermath.

pairing: best friend Mingi x reader

genres: heavy angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

word count: 8.8k

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60850432

———

You sat there stunned, unable to comprehend the words displayed before you on the screen.

LOML💕

It’s over, I found someone else

Sorry y/n

Your person, or who you THOUGHT was your person, had found someone else??

As you stood there in your apartment, your phone fell from your hands as you dropped to your knees, sitting there unseeing at the linoleum floor as you tried to process the abrupt end of your relationship.

How were you supposed to move on?

You wondered if you’d ever be able to stop crying, or if your eyes would ever cease to be swollen.

It’s been weeks since your breakup, yet you still felt the pure anguish and heartache, which were slowly fading their way into anger. How could they do this to you?

Two years of time wasted on someone who had the utter AUDACITY to callously end your relationship VIA TEXT MESSAGE because they had “found somebody else.”

What the fuck? The texts were a blow to your self esteem and you weren’t sure you’d be able to recover. You hated what those words made you see in the mirror–someone unworthy of anyone’s time.

How could someone who had claimed to love you exhibit such cowardice? Had you really known them at all? How long had this dalliance been going on? Did they cheat? Was it physical or emotional?

Dark clouds loomed in your mind as you spiraled and felt more tears leak out.

What was the point in anything? You stayed in bed and refused to shower because you were just going to get dirty again. You didn’t have the energy to stand upright for that long anyway. Staying here in bed was your safe haven, and you didn’t want to move.

Burying your face into your pillow you screamed until your voice was hoarse and you felt a little dizzy, hoping that the exhaustion and misery would overtake you.

That’s how your best friend, Mingi, found you. Laying face down and sniffling on a messy bed and a floor covered in tissues, takeout wrappers, and dirty clothes, while attempting to dry your tears on the sleeve of your oversized hoodie. Probably one of Mingi’s old ones, if he had to guess.

Mingi was the only person besides your partner, well, ex-partner, that had a key to your place. He made a mental note to remind you to change the locks, though he doubted the fucker would ever come back here for any reason.

Mingi couldn’t help but feel his heart clench painfully at the sight of his best friend in this state. It looked like you had barely moved in days. You deserved so much better than someone who would throw you to the side so easily.

He cleared his throat in an attempt to get your attention, but you were too far gone in your anguish to hear him. Tentatively, he ventured closer and tried again. This time, you heard his deep cough and turned your heavy head toward the sound.

His eyes found yours and softened even more at the heartbroken expression on your face. He came closer and you felt the bed dip as he sat his large frame close to you.

You abruptly shifted and flung yourself into his arms, hearing him exhale an “oof” at the unexpected contact, but quickly locking his arms around you in a comforting embrace.

You sobbed harder into his chest as he tucked your head under his chin and began rubbing his large hands up and down your back in a comforting motion.

The two of you stayed like this for a while until your heaving sobs quieted into soft sniffles, his grip on you never relenting.

“How could they do this to me, Min? I know it’s been weeks, I just can’t—I can’t fucking believe they ended it this way!! Found someone ‘better’,” you scoffed. “What the fuck does that even mean?!? Did I really mean so little to them?”

The tears welled up as your breaths became uneven again.

You and Mingi had had this conversation before, but it was clear it would take a while to come to terms with the reality of the situation. Mingi’s heart continued to break for you, but he vowed that he’d always be by your side and he’d do his damndest to help you get through it.

You could feel the rumble of his deep voice against you as he spoke. “It’s cliche to say, but they’re not fucking worth it. I know in the back of your mind you know this and you probably don’t want to hear it right now, but it’s true.”

You choked out what sounded like a scoff.

“I know. I KNOW. But like…I just…I loved them. I LOVED them. Did they even love me? They’ve made me feel so fucking worthless and I don’t know why I can’t just let it go!” you wailed into his chest.

He tightened his hold around you. “You don’t have to justify your feelings to me, you’re entitled to feel however you want about that jackass. I’m not the one to dictate how you grieve or process. I’m just here, as your best friend, to hold you and help you through it. I always will be,” he murmured above you.

Your tears spilled out a little faster and you sniffled into his chest. “What would I ever do without you, Min? I can’t believe I have you in my life sometimes.”

You and Mingi had known each other for well over a decade, having attended high school together and remaining close friends through college and the start of your careers.

You honestly don’t know how you would’ve made it this far without him.

———

“Mingi, promise me we’ll stick together no matter what. You’re my best friend in this whole world,” you stated, staring up at the stars with Mingi sitting next to you in the bed of his beat-up pickup.

“Of course y/n, I’ll always be with you. You’re my best friend too.”

And that’s how you always were. A package deal. Two peas in a pod, inseparable, but not in a way that makes the people around you uncomfortable. You and Mingi were the type of friends who could pull anyone in and make them feel like they’ve known you their whole lives.

You were eternally grateful for Mingi and his steadfast friendship, a strong and enduring presence in your life.

Him supporting you at events in high school, you in turn sticking with him in his obsession with e-sports and the quarterly decision to become a gym rat, giving up a mere 3 weeks later.

Him being a protective big brother at frat parties when someone got a little too handsy with you when he could see the distress plainly on your face.

You willing to go to war for him when some girl led him on and bruised his ego for a while one semester.

He was your best friend, your ride or die.

And you hoped it would always stay that way.

———

In the back of your mind you wondered if your friendship with Mingi had played into a hidden insecurity with your partner. Were they threatened? You were together for two years, if they were feeling insecure or threatened, why didn’t they vocalize it?

Little did you know, Mingi wondered the same thing. He hadn’t hated your ex until now, but they had treated you well and had never given any indication that they were a shitty partner or that your friendship with him had been a sore spot. The reasoning for leaving you really confounded him.

Noting your silence and sensing your impending spiral, Mingi squeezed you again to bring you back to the present and forced your focus back onto the feeling of his strong arms around you and his large frame pressed against your side.

You heaved out a sigh. “I still have so much of their shit here in the apartment, not to mention all the fucking photos we’d taken together. What am I supposed to do with it all? I don’t want to see that asshole’s face ever again if I can help it.”

“Burn it,” came Mingi’s casual reply.

You had to wonder if you heard him correctly. “I’m sorry, did you say BURN it?”

“Yeah, I did. Burn it,” you could feel his shrug as he shifted around you.

Turning to look up at him with disbelief in your eyes, you met his intense gaze with an incredulous one of your own.

“I can’t just BURN everything! There’s gotta be some fire code against that or something. Like how the fuck am I supposed to burn a PlayStation??” You remarked, exasperated. “I didn’t know you had a penchant for pyromania!”

Mingi chuckled in his rich, husky tone. “I was referring to the photos, maybe some of their clothes. We can either throw the rest at them or pawn it. Your choice, really, he hummed. “I just think it would be cathartic for you to set fire to some of the physical memories as a way of letting go. Perhaps even a phoenix-esque rebirth for you.”

You mulled over his suggestion.

“You don’t have to decide right now, I think you need to take some time to think about it and really allow yourself time to begin the moving on process,” he spoke into your hairline.

Mingi knew you were depressed, the state of your room and your mental wellbeing a clear indication to him. He knew exactly how it felt to hit rock bottom and feel so helpless, with zero motivation to do as much as even lifting your arms. He really wanted to be there for you as you had always been there for him during his bouts of depression and anxiety.

“In the meantime, you’ve been cooped up here in your room for far too long. I know how hard it is to break out of a despair so heavy, but you should take a shower and maybe brush your teeth to allow yourself to feel refreshed. I can help you with whatever you need, even if it means lifting the toothbrush myself. Hell, I could help you shower if you wanted. I don’t care. If you don’t want that, then I can help you clean up in here a bit. What would you prefer?”

He continued to rub soothing circles into your back and thigh as you considered his offer. “I’ll even carry you to the bathroom myself if that makes the decision easier.”

You sighed heavily and tightened your grip on him which indicated to him that you were going to take him up on this offer, so he kept his hold around your shoulders and scooped you up under your legs to bring you to your ensuite bathroom.

He deposited you on the counter and turned to look for your hair brush, hoping to work some of the knots out of your slightly matted hair before your shower. He found a comb, settling beside you to gently begin the detangling process. He worked in silence, being as thorough as possible without tugging too hard and causing you pain. You allowed him to work as you felt yourself zoning out and staring at the tile.

Eventually, he worked out the tangles and turned to start the shower. “Would you like me to help you shower, or do you think you can handle it yourself? If you want my help, I can bring you a bathing suit if that would make you more comfortable.”

“Mingi, we’ve both seen each other in extremely compromising positions in our years of friendship, I don’t care if you see my ass or any other bits for that matter, but I would love your help. I…just really don’t have the energy to hold myself up at this point.”

Nodding, Mingi moved to help divest you of your clothing, followed by his own. He turned back toward the shower to test the temperature, deeming it acceptable and then once again hoisted you into his arms to step into the shower.

Placing you gently under the spray, he set about looking for your face wash to start. He squirted some into your palm. “I don’t want to get any in your eyes, I know you can do this one,” he cooed softly at you, bringing your hands up to lather your face. As if on autopilot, you washed the buildup of oil and dried tears from your face and allowed the water to cascade over you.

Once you were finished, you turned back toward Mingi and he resumed his search of your products to locate your shampoo. Placing a suitable amount between his large palms, he turned you back around so that you were facing the spray and began to work his large hands through your hair and massaging your scalp.

You let out a contented hum as he massaged, shuddering a little at the feeling of his hands as they circled near your nape. Once he deemed suitable, he turned you back around to place your head under the spray as he let the water run through and wash away the suds. He continued to lightly massage his fingers through your now-clean hair, which left you uttering another contented sigh at the feeling.

Next, he went for the conditioner and turned you back around so that he could work the product through your ends. Once satisfied, he rinsed off his hands and reached for your silicone loofah, globbing body wash onto it and setting out to scrub the grime and dead skin off of you. He remained gentle as he worked his way up and down your body, nudging your legs apart at one point to wash between them. Following that, he detached the shower head and began rinsing you off, washing away however many days of wallowing and with it, some of the tension you had been feeling since you woke up that morning.

You leaned yourself back against Mingi and he wrapped his arms around you, once again locking you in a tight embrace as the water cascaded over the two of you, encasing you in a brief reprieve and moment of serenity.

As the water started to run tepid, Mingi turned off the tap and led you out of the stall to wrap you in a massive fluffy towel to dry you off. He worked diligently on you before grabbing another towel for himself and wrapping it around his waist.

“Wait here, I’m going to go strip your sheets and re-make your bed so that you have something clean to lay on.”

He left the room and you heard him banging around your closest looking for your clean sheets. Once again, you found yourself zoning out. You don’t know how long he was gone, but eventually you saw his blurred frame in front of you, snapping you back into the present and forcing your eyes up to his.

He reached out to caress the side of your face while holding your gaze. “Would you like me to help you brush your teeth, or do you think you can handle it yourself?”

Feeling a little bit less in your own head, you decided that you could handle this task yourself. You turned toward the sink and reached for the toothbrush and toothpaste to slowly rid your teeth of plaque and freshen your breath. You were slowly feeling a little more alive than previously thanks to Mingi.

Once you finished and rinsed your mouth out, you turned back towards Mingi and he offered you a hand, leading you gently out of the bathroom and back toward your room.

You noticed that he had thrown away all the trash and put your dirty clothes in the basket. Feeling your eyes well up a little bit, you turned to Mingi to thank him for his kindness and all his help.

“You don’t need to thank me. I know you would do the same for me if the situation were reversed. I’m happy to do anything you need to help you feel like yourself again,” he replied in a soft tone, hand once again moving to cup your face.

You closed your eyes and leaned into his touch for a moment, relishing in the comfort only Mingi could provide. Parting after a moment, you shifted back onto your bed, suddenly feeling the weight of everything settle on you, feeling utterly spent.

“Rest for a while. I’ll be right here when you wake up, I promise.” Mingi climbed in after you to settle against the headboard and help you into the blankets. You curled onto your side to face him as you got comfortable.

“Really, truly, thank you Mingi. I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” His words echoing in your mind as you finally drifted off to sleep.

———

The next few weeks progressed with Mingi spending as much time as he could with you. You were able to get medical leave from work for another week to allow for a little more time to recover.

You and Mingi would spend evenings on your couch snuggled up and watching dramas and some of your favorite movies, and he would cook a delicious meal almost every night. Tonight, you and Mingi were curled up under a few blankets with bowls of stew.

“Have you given any thought to what you’re going to do with your ex’s things?” asked Mingi between mouthfuls of food.

Swallowing your food, you tried to remember if you had heard from your ex in the previous weeks. Not remembering anything of note, you shook your head.

“They surprisingly haven’t asked for any of their shit back, so I’m not really sure if it needs to be an urgent matter or not. Frankly, I don’t care what they want because they broke my heart and deserve to rot.”

He chuckled. “Damn, brutal.”

You smirked back at him and took another bite of stew, reveling in the comfort of having your best friend here with you.

As you ate, you looked over at Mingi. His eyes were focused on the screen and you just took him in as he sat there. You were so grateful for him, you wouldn’t want anyone else as your best friend.

He must have felt you staring and he shifted his gaze back to yours.

“Do I have something on my face?”

You giggled at him as he smirked.

“Yeah, you do,” you said as you placed your bowl down and grabbed a throw pillow before launching it toward him.

Luckily, his reflexes were quick and he caught the pillow midair before it could smack him.

“Oh you’re gonna pay for that one alright” he chuckled in a dangerous tone.

Eyes wide, you stood up quickly and bolted down the hallway toward your bedroom. Mingi followed after you, catching up in just a few long strides. Damn his long legs, you were no match for his pace.

He grabbed around your waist and threw you over his shoulder as you kicked your legs and slapped at his shoulders.

“Put me down you big dummy!”

“Do you yield?” he asked as you dangled helplessly, flailing in an attempt to be put down, but Mingi’s grip did not relent.

“Fine, fine!! I yield! Please put me down now!”

He gently set you back on your feet as you felt the blood rush back down from your face after being upside down.

You caught your breath and Mingi just continued to smirk at you with small chuckles.

“You’re a bold one, that’s for sure,” he intoned in his deep drawl.

You turned to glare at him, but were unable to maintain the expression as you looked at the goofy grin on your best friend’s face. You ended up doubling over to laugh, leaning forward to catch Mingi in a hug.

“Come on big guy, let’s go back to the couch and finish our show.” You grabbed his arm and pulled him back toward your nest of blankets on the couch, settling back into the comfortable silence.

At some point you must have drifted off, because you wake to a darkened room and a blanket placed over you. You blink a few times and let your eyes adjust to the low light and see a note on the table.

I put away the leftovers and washed the dishes. I would’ve stayed but I have an early meeting tomorrow so I needed to head home. I’ll be around all week if you need something or want to hang out. Let me know if the idiot contacts you, I’ll be there with a lighter.

xx Min

You smiled at his barely legible script. Yeah, you really were lucky to have him as your best friend.

———

Another few weeks pass without contact from your ex. You were becoming comfortable with the idea that they genuinely didn’t care about whatever they left at your apartment, and had almost forgotten they left anything here at all.

You were finally able to go back to work, feeling a little less like the world was going to cave in on you. The despair you had previously felt morphed into righteous anger, then transformed again into a bit of numbness. But it was enough to make you forget about your failed relationship and return to a relative normalcy.

Evenings were still spent with Mingi, either at your place or his as he continued to find ways to help keep you and your mind occupied.

It was one night a week later as you were both sitting on opposite ends of your couch. You were sketching in a notebook and Mingi was reading a graphic novel, glasses perched on his nose and hair a little ruffled as if he had been absently running his fingers through it.

It was an adorable habit of his, messing up his hair as he focused on something. You smiled to yourself as you peered at him, looking back down to continue sketching.

You had lost yourself in the moment until you heard your phone go off. Thinking nothing of it, you flipped it over, blood immediately running cold at the familiar number on the screen.

Mingi looked over at you, dropping his book when he noticed the look on your face. You were frozen in shock, not sure what to do.

Mingi entered your line of sight as the ringing stopped, taking your phone out of your hands and placing it back on the coffee table. Grabbing your hands in his large ones, he squeezed, drawing your attention back to him.

“Hey, look at me. You’re shaking. Look in my eyes. Match your breathing to mine, okay?” Mingi grabbed one of your hands and placed it to his chest, prompting you to regulate your breathing to help you stave off the impending panic attack.

As you continued to breathe, you heard the phone go off again, prompting another small spike of panic.

“Hey, hey. Keep your eyes on me. Do you want me to answer it and talk to them?”

Unable to form words due to the rising panic and bile in your throat, you gave Mingi a barely perceptible nod.

“Okay. I’ll deal with it. What I need you to do for me is to keep your hands on your thighs and keep working on your breathing. In for four, hold for four, out for four. Can you do that for me?”

He holds your gaze as you nod again.

“Alright, I’m going to let go of your hands now. I’ll be in the kitchen, in your direct line of sight. I won’t be long, I promise.”

He gives your hands another squeeze as he turns to grab the phone. A scowl crosses his features and he has to take a deep breath to prevent himself from blowing up at your ex over the phone.

Swiping the screen, he answers.

“What do you want, asshole?” Mingi practically growls.

“Mingi? Where’s y/n?”

“None of your fucking business, that’s where. Why are you calling? It’s been months. What the fuck could you possibly want?” Mingi seethes.

He supposes he could handle this a little more calmly, but he’s fucking LIVID at this idiot for the way they hung you out to dry.

“Hey man, lose the hostility. I’m not trying to start anything, I just want to come get the things I left at y/n’s place. Can I come by and grab it this weekend?”

Mingi sees red.

“Absolutely fucking not. I’m not letting you anywhere near y/n after the shit you pulled. What you’re gonna do is text me a list of the things you need, and I’ll leave them outside for you,” his voice low, dangerous, as he growls into the receiver.

“Jesus Christ Mingi, when did you become their guard dog? I always knew you two had something going on between you,” came the snide reply of your ex.

And there it was. If Mingi weren’t pissed before, he was furious now. That insecurity must’ve been festering long enough for them to seek comfort in someone else instead of being and adult and talking to you about it.

Though Mingi wondered if even that would’ve been enough for the sniveling little insecure worm to have been satisfied.

Drawing in a breath, Mingi closed his eyes and counted to 5 before responding.

“Y/n is my best friend. I’m sorry that your insecure ass couldn’t handle them having me as a friend. If that’s the reason you broke up with them, you’re a bigger idiot than I thought you were. You could’ve, you know, fucking TALKED to them about this instead of seeking comfort in the next person who fucking blinks at you. Pathetic. Send me your list, and don’t contact y/n ever again. We’re done here.” He hangs up before your ex can get another word in.

He continues to seethe. He can’t believe that little worm had the gall to show their face again all these weeks later. Steadying himself and forcing calming breaths, he turns his gaze back to you, eyes closed and head reclined back on the couch as you breathe deeply.

He pads back over to you, clearing his throat to announce his presence to prevent you from startling. You slowly crack your eyes open at his large form in front of you.

He kneels in front of you again, resuming the position with your hands in his.

Your voice is small and a little cracked as you speak.“What did they want?”

“They want their worthless stuff back. Why they couldn’t do this weeks ago is beyond me. Regardless, they want their shit.”

Your eyes widen in panic a bit. They’re going to come here? You don’t know if you can handle seeing them again.

Mingi squeezes your hands again. “Don’t worry, they’re not getting within 100 yards of you, I promise. We’ll gather everything and leave it outside so you don’t have to interact with them at all. I’m making them send me a list of everything.”

At this, your breathing evens out a bit, shoulders sagging in relief. Mingi leans forward to engulf you in his arms. “I’m here for you, y/n. You don’t have to do any of this alone. Ever.”

Once again leaning into his touch, you let Mingi embrace you until you feel your heartbeat and breathing returning to normal.

Finally calmed down, the encounter had left you absolutely wrung-out. “Min, I’m exhausted. Can you bring me to my room?”

“Of course, hold on tight.” He wrapped his arms tighter around you and hoisted you up off the couch. Curling into him, he walked you to your room and placed you down on the bed.

You shifted to get under the covers and he came around to lay next to you. You rolled over and rested your head on his chest, immediately being enveloped in his embrace.

He caressed your hair softly as he spoke. “Remember, I’m here for you and you’re not going to do this alone. We’ll start sorting through their things when you’re ready, and I’ll handle contact with them. We do this on YOUR terms. Not theirs. Alright?”

You nodded in assent and snuggled closer to Mingi as he continued to run his fingers through your hair.

“Thank you, Mingi,” you murmured into his chest.

He leaned down to press a kiss to the top of your head and you allowed your eyes to close and finally relax. You fell asleep that night in Mingi’s comforting embrace.

The week continued without any further contact from your ex, just as Mingi had promised. You were coming to terms with the fact you would have to face them, albeit in the form of their possessions, but face them and confront the memories and hurt you still felt.

After another few days, you felt that you were ready to confront them. You pulled out your phone to dial a familiar number.

“Min? I’m ready.”

Mingi arrived at your apartment about a half hour later with cardboard boxes, tote bags, and trash bags.

”Let’s fucking do this.”

———

You were fairly certain that most of your ex’s things were confined to your bedroom and ensuite bathroom, so that’s where you would concentrate your efforts.

You started with your dresser while Mingi focused on your closet.

Feeling unnerved by the silence, you decided to queue up a noisy playlist to fill some of the room and ease your anxiety over the situation. Mingi’s presence helped, but you figured that ambient noise would calm some of the buzzing in your brain and under your skin.

You heard Mingi chuckle when he realized what playlist you went for and you shot him a shy smile from your side of the room. He knew you well enough to understand you couldn’t handle silence when you were feeling anxious.

You heard his deep voice rumble out the rap of the song that was currently playing. You never failed to be amazed by the way he was able to follow the flow of a rap and add his own flair to whatever song he was going along to. In another life, you were sure he’d have a successful career as a rapper or an idol.

Having combed through your drawers and found all of your ex’s clothes, you shoved them into a trash bag and sealed it. You couldn’t care less if the clothes were wrinkled, the jackass deserved worse.

Steeling yourself, you moved over to Mingi’s side to work on the closet. When you reached him, you noticed him fixated on a box in the corner. You realized that it was the box of photos and other memories from your relationship that you had unceremoniously tossed in the corner like they had unceremoniously ended your partnership.

Your eyes began to well up with unshed tears and your breath hitched. Mingi immediately wrapped his arms around you and brought his focus to you. “You’re not alone. Remember, I’m right here. We don’t need to go through that box today. I still think we should burn it all, but it’s your choice on what to do with it,” he spoke softly into your hair.

You shuddered out a deep breath. “It’s okay. I knew in the back of mind that it was there, seeing it just caught me off guard.”

He held you steady as you re-regulated your breathing to match his, just like he taught you. Feeling calmed down, you opened your eyes and felt a new wave of determination wash over you. Mingi’s comforting words and embrace bolstered the confidence that you could get through this.

Leaving the box in the corner for last, the two of you combed through your clothes and other effects to gather all of your ex’s errant belongings and shove them in the bags and boxes Mingi had brought.

Your ex had left a surprising amount of clothing and a few pairs of shoes, so it was no wonder they finally came around to asking for their items returned. It wasn’t your fault they were thoughtless enough to leave shit at your place while they were warming someone else’s bed.

“I want to leave the box for last. I’m fairly certain it’s mostly photographs and other paper items. Let’s go over to the bathroom and deal with whatever bullshit they left there.”

“I’m sure they left half empty toiletries that we can just trash,” intoned Mingi. “No need to save any of that shit and burden us with excess bags.”

You nodded and moved to stand, but Mingi beat you to it, holding out his hand to help you to your feet.

Moving into the ensuite, you noticed that Mingi was dead-on in his assessment. Most of the things left were half empty tubes and bottles along with a used disposable razor and toothbrush you were absolutely not going to keep. You had half a mind to clean the toilet with it and give it back to your ex, but decided against it and tossed it into the trash.

The only other items of theirs that you had found around your apartment were the PlayStation, a few charging cables, books, and a pair of headphones.

Confident you had rid your apartment of the bad energy left by your ex’s belongings, you packed everything up and brought it into the living room.The only thing that remained was the box in the corner of your closet.

Mingi brought it out into the living room wordlessly and set it on the coffee table.

“What do you want to do?”

You took a steadying deep breath. Proud of yourself for coming this far, you were inclined to push through and get it over with, but you knew that some of the memories would engulf your emotions and you felt it was probably best to take a break first.

“I think I want to take a break and get something to eat. Maybe take a nap before I get into it.”

“Do you want me to drop this shit off? It doesn’t need to stay here while you relax. The sooner we’re rid of it, the better you’ll feel.”

You were so grateful Mingi was willing to do all of this for you. Cutting out direct interaction with your ex and going in your stead so that you wouldn’t have to.

You loved Mingi so much.

“Thank you Min, I honestly can’t thank you enough for being willing to do this for me.”

“I told you, y/n, you aren’t alone, and you never will be.”

You almost started crying right there. He noticed your shift in mood and came to sit beside you on the couch. You rested your head on his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around you.

“I’ll call them and let them know I’m dropping this shit in their front yard. That’s all the warning they need.”

Mingi squeezed you a little tighter before dropping his arm and tilting your chin up to look at him.

“I’ll be back in a few hours with some food. Take a nap and relax for a bit and then we’ll have dinner from one of your favorite takeout places. How does that sound?”

“Sounds like heaven, Min. Thank you so much.”

He smiled at you and his eyes crinkled in the way you loved. “Of course. I’ve always got you.”

You returned his smile easily. “Okay, I’m going to shower and get rid of some of these bad vibes after handling so much of their shit, and then I’m going to nap. Thank you again for all of your help today.”

“No problem, y/n. Now go shower, you reek of bad vibes,” he wrinkled his nose playfully and chuckled.

You giggled back and smacked his arm lightly for the barb.

You both got up and you pulled him in for a hug. Surprised by your show of strength, Mingi let out an “oof” as you slammed into him and squeezed his abdomen.

He wrapped his arms around you and held you tight for a moment before you let go and disappeared into your room.

Unbeknownst to you, he followed your retreating figure with an easy smile and all the fondness in the world for you, and pride for your strength and resilience the past few months.

He made quick work of gathering all the bags and boxes and brought them down to his car. Dialing your ex’s number, he barely waited for the call to connect before he was speaking. “I’ve got all your shit and I’m leaving it in your front yard in the next 30 minutes. After this, you have no connection to y/n. You don’t get the privilege,” Mingi spoke tonelessly.

He heard your ex seethe on the other end of the line. “Fine. You’re an ass, Mingi.”

He chuckled darkly, “I could say way fucking worse about you. Delete y/n’s number. We’re done here.” He ended the call and promptly blocked the number.

Satisfied, Mingi started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot of your apartment.

Arriving exactly thirty minutes later, as promised, Mingi unceremoniously dumped everything in the grass outside the house. Sending a middle finger and sarcastic salute at the house, he got back in the car and drove off.

An hour later, you were woken to the sound of your front door closing and the shuffling sound of plastic takeout bags.

You groggily stretched as you heard Mingi making his way around the kitchen to prepare the food for you both.

You shuffled yourself toward the kitchen table to find Mingi setting out a literal feast before you.

“Jeez Min, did you buy out the whole shop or something? There’s just the two of us!”

He chuckled “I wanted you to have all of your favorites and enough for leftovers. I know how much you like to snack late at night.

You pursed your lips at him as he continued pulling containers out. “I hate that you know me so well sometimes.”

He shot you a smug look as you went over to the kitchen to pull out plates, silverware, and glasses for your meal.

You and Mingi enjoyed a comfortable silence during your meal, feeling immense relief that much of the daunting task of confronting your ex’s belongings was almost complete.

“Did you see them when you dropped everything off? Did they say anything to you?”

Mingi chuckled darkly and shrugged. “Nope, the fucker wasn’t home and I just dropped everything on the front lawn. Not my stuff, not my problem.”

You let out an incredulous laugh. “Well at least it’s out of our hands now. Thank you again for doing that for me.”

���You don’t have to keep thanking me, you know I’d do it for you in a heartbeat, just as you’d do the same for me.”

You smiled at each other and continued eating in peace.

———

You and Mingi were seated on the floor around your coffee table with the box in front of you.

“Are you ready?” Mingi asked gently.

Closing your eyes and taking a few steadying deep breaths, you centered yourself before nodding and removing the lid from the box.

Your plan was to thumb through everything as quickly as possible to make sure you weren’t destroying anything actually valuable.

The box contained years worth of photographs, polaroids, notes, tickets, trinkets, and countless memories. It was almost painful to see the container filled to the brim with paper, knowing what it had cost you in the end.

You knew you were better off without your ex, but you were still dealing with the fallout and had to remind yourself that it was okay to grieve.

Sensing your hesitation, Mingi shifted and pulled you over his lap and between his legs, startling you.

“I’m going to be right behind you to help ground you, okay? I won’t let you go.”

You felt your eyes well up and sniffled, leaning back into his chest as he wrapped an arm around your midsection and placed his chin on your shoulder.

“Thank you, Min, this feels nice.”

Having his warm, steady presence behind you made it easier to breathe, knowing you weren’t doing this alone.

With a newfound sense of calm and determination, you began sifting through the box, separating everything into piles you categorized as “trash,” “pawn,” and “burn.”

Mingi didn’t say anything as you worked, just held you and rubbed your sides and shoulders to comfort you and remind you that he was right there.

It ended up taking you about an hour to sort through everything.

Taking a deep breath and placing your hands on the table, you surveyed the piles.

You felt, rather than heard Mingi chuckle behind you, clearly amused at the size of the “burn” pile.

“Mingi, are you a secret pyromaniac?”

He chuckled again. “No, I just think that for situations like this it can be freeing to let everything go with a little fire.”

“Have you done this before?”

“Yes, I’ve burned things for myself but I also helped some friends in college when they went through a similar situation. It made them feel a little better, so I figured it would be beneficial for you as well.”

You hummed, considering his words as he shifted behind you. “Alright then. I think to start we throw the garbage out and then take some of these nicer items to the pawn shop to see what we can get for them. I doubt they gave you anything truly expensive, but some of these things might fetch a few bucks. Then we use the firepit in my backyard to burn the rest. Does that sound alright to you?”

“I think that sounds perfect. Are you free tomorrow?”

He shifted again and pulled out his phone to pull up his calendar. “Looks like I’m open all day. Let’s go for it.”

You turned and smiled at him over your shoulder as he squeezed you around the waist.

Tomorrow, you would be free of your ex for good.

———

When you woke up the next morning, you felt simultaneous looming anxiety and relief over what you and Mingi were going to do today.

Letting go of a significant part of your life was never easy, but you finally felt like you were ready.

You stretched your stiff joints and ambled to the bathroom to start your morning. In the shower, you close your eyes and let the hot water run over you, soothing some of the morning ache and relaxing you further. Showers always have a profound calming effect on you.

After finishing your morning routine, you texted Mingi to let him know you were ready for the day. He showed up at your door about a half hour later with two coffees and a bag of pastries from your favorite cafe in tow.

You smiled brightly as you greeted him, hugging him tightly as he placed everything on the counter. “Are you ready for this? How are you feeling?” Mingi asked from above you in the embrace. You looked up at him, his concerned but soft gaze searching your face for any obvious signs of distress or discomfort.

You gave him an easy smile back, grateful for his presence. “I think I’m good. I feel...well I don’t know how to describe it. But I definitely am ready to get rid of all this extra shit.” You gazed back at the piles of garbage bags from yesterday’s cleaning spree, a pang of grief making itself present, knowing what you were about to do.

You shook it off after a minute, letting yourself feel, but strengthening your resolve that this was the correct choice. You looked back to Mingi and squeezed him a little tighter. “Yeah, I’m ready,” you replied.

He hummed above you as he replied “Good. Remember, I will be with you every step of the way today.”

Nodding into his chest, you further steeled yourself into action. Finally turning out of his embrace, you made your way over to the garbage bags. You cracked your neck and hands and rolled your shoulders, ready to rid yourself of the phantom of your ex.

Mingi made his way to your side, catching your eye and giving you a nod as he bent to pick up some bags. You nodded back and followed suit, grabbing the remainder and hefting them up off the floor.

Trudging out of your apartment with the bags and Mingi in tow, you made your way down to the parking lot to throw the actual garbage away in the dumpster, saving the burn pile for later.

Mingi hefted his bags into the bin and dusted off his hands. Turning to you, he clocked your emotions again, ready to act if you changed your mind about all this. Seeing nothing but determined steel in your gaze, he grabbed the burn pile and cleared his throat.

“Ready?” He asked.

You closed your eyes and took a centering breath.

“Ready.” You replied with conviction.

Mingi brought the bags to the backseat of his car and opened the passenger door for you to climb in. Settling yourself inside and buckling your seatbelt, you kept your eyes forward, waiting for Mingi to start the engine.

Not wanting to spend time inside your own head, you turned the radio on as Mingi started the car and prepared to head over to his place.

Mingi, noticing your effort to stay present, kept easy conversation at the forefront.

“Do you want to pick up some snacks on the way, or should we scour my pantry?” He asked, eyes focused forward on the road.

“Honestly, I think stopping would be fine. Lord knows what kind of amalgamation of frat boy apartment snacks we’d create out of the bare bones of your pantry,” you joked.

“Hey now, I resent that! I keep my pantry stocked and ready for company!” He retorted.

“Min, bags of mashmallows and the odd can of soup don’t exactly create the most enticing meals,” you chuckled as he pouted.

“Fine, I guess you’ll never know the joys of my culinary prowess,” Mingi sighed.

You laughed, keeping up the conversation as you pulled up to the grocery store for snacks.

“Would it be too gauche to roast marshmallows and hotdogs over the fire?” You pondered.

Mingi let out a loud cackle at the idea. “No, I don’t think so. But if you had a hesitation in doing so, I say we stick with the basic gathering foods. Chips and dip, perhaps charcuterie?”

“Now you sound pretentious. A whole charcuterie spread as we burn photos of my ex. Should we add aperol spritzers to the mix?” You giggled.

“You laugh, but that sounds perfectly lovely for an evening like this,” shrugged Mingi.

“Alright fine, you pick the snacks and I’ll go along with what you decide,” you acquiesce, not particularly caring what you eat, as your appetite had fluctuated throughout the day.

Finally packed back into the car, you and Mingi rode in companionable silence back to his apartment, the radio playing a calming playlist in the background.

As you arrived at Mingi’s, he grabbed all the groceries while you grabbed the bags holding your tainted memories.

Bringing everything around the back to the patio, you settled yourself in one of the Adirondack chairs while Mingi puttered around setting up the snacks.

Once he was confident in his snack spread, he turned to assess your mood.

“How are you feeling?” As asked as he came to kneel in front of you.

“I’m…surprisingly okay I think.” You looked up into his earnest eyes and felt the warmth radiating out of him. You once again felt overwhelmed gratitude at having Mingi in your life.

Reaching out to place your palm on his cheek, you regarded him in a soft voice. “Thank you for doing this with me, it means the world to me to have you in my corner.”

Mingi smiled and leaned into your palm. “Best friends for life, remember? I’ve always got your back just like I know you’ve got mine.”

You smiled and allowed yourself this moment of comfort.

Finally ready, you dropped your hand and nodded up to Mingi. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Mingi nodded in return and set to work starting the fire in the pit.

You watched as he expertly set the kindling in place between the wooden logs, allowing it to catch fire and create a beautiful, warm fire.

Once the fire was going strong, you finally stood up and stared into the embers.

Were you ready for this? Could you bring yourself to place all of these memories into the flames?

Mingi, sensing your hesitation, made his way to your side and placed his large palm on your shoulder, channeling his support into you.

You heard him quietly in your ear. “It’s okay. You can do this. Burn it.”

Feeling the comfort of his warm palm on your skin, you shook off the doubt and hesitation, ready to start this next phase of your life.

You turned to the bags, opening up the first one and grabbing the first photo you saw.

It was a lovely shot of you and your partner standing beneath the beautiful blooms of a cherry blossom tree. An image that once evoked so much happiness and comfort in you now felt hollow.

You allowed yourself to mourn the peace this image once brought you, tracing your hand over the memories of what once was. Then, with a steady hand, you brought the image forward, and slowly lowered it into the flickering flames.

Allowing the picture to catch fire at the ends, the flame slowly licking its way up through the center of the photo, taking with it the image of your ex.

Once the flames reached your visage, you carefully dropped it into the fire, letting it engulf the rest of the photo, erasing it from existence.

You allowed tears to leak from the corner of your eyes, a mixture of sadness and cathartic release taking over your emotions.

Throughout this, Mingi’s hand stayed firmly planted on your shoulder, bolstering you. He knew how hard this was for you, and he was so proud of you for taking this first step.

You leaned back, allowing Mingi’s arms to encircle you as you cried for what once was, for the last time.

After a while, the tears dried up and you and Mingi pulled some chairs closer to the fire so that you could snack while dropping memories into the flames.

You told stories associated with the photos and other mementos, allowing yourself to feel as you dropped each reminder into the fire, watching as each piece of your old relationship turned to ash.

Mingi stayed strong next to you, listening intently and keeping a hold on you in any way that he could, be it holding your hand, touching your arm, or putting an arm around your shoulders, keeping his promise to not leave you alone through this.

Eventually, the snacks ran out and the number of photos in the bags dwindled down to one single image remaining.

It was a candid shot you had taken of your ex, one you had adored and kept close to you at your workstation. You gazed upon the photo, once again allowing yourself to feel and remember, building up the emotion to let it release in a mix of blue and red flames. Ready to let it burn.

Touching the tip of the photo to the fire, you coaxed the flames to consume the last image. Placing it delicately on the wood, you watched as the corners of the photo met in the middle, turning what remained into a pile of embers.

It was done. You were finally free of your ex.

Sitting back, but keeping your eyes on the flames, you felt Mingi embrace you once again.

“I’m really proud of you, you know. You did it. You are free of them, free to live your life on your own terms. I can wait to see you continue to grow from here,” he murmured into the dusk.

You felt an overwhelming surge of gratitude once again. The love you feel for your best friend bursting out of you into a comforting warm glow you always associated with Mingi.

“Thank you Mingi, for everything. Always.”

Resting your head on Mingi’s shoulder, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, reveling in the smell of a bonfire and the warm embrace of your best friend as he pulled you closer. Opening your eyes, you watched the whispers of memories turn into nothing but a pile of ash and fading embers.

You stayed like this for hours, soaking in the comfort of friendship and embracing the strength derived from overcoming grief.

As you gazed in the dying embers of memories of a life once lived, you felt an overwhelming sense of peace finally settle deep in your bones.

Rising from the ashes of despair, from this day forward, you are reborn anew.

[coramatus]

What if Under the City Streets was even more mean to Ingo?

Then you get the Mad Woodsman AU of an AU.

Cw/tw: mentions of self-harm, suicidal tendencies, dissociation, self-loathing

He gets better though.

The Mad Woodsman was an Ingo who descended fully into madness in the Unknown, attacking anything and anyone that dared get too close with a flaming axe drenched in Edelwood oil. But he inflicted the worst violence on himself, trying repeatedly to kill himself and self-harmed, always failing because his pure despair is fuel for the Beast, making him more useful alive and suffering as a battery to be consumed.

Unlike other Woodsmen, he has a full scraggly beard and long, matted hair and is constantly in a filthy state. His mind is lost in a cloud of misery, despair, and delusions, his moments of clarity few and far between. He is constantly haunted by a figure in white who always stands out of reach, only ever smiling enigmatically at him.

So when Time Lord Emmet Railer appears to try and save him, the Mad Woodsman is immediately lost in raging insanity as he tries to kill the figure, begging to be left alone so he can die in peace. There’s nothing to save. He’s less than nothing. Why can’t the figure leave him alone?

But eventually, the despair becomes too much to bear and he collapses, allowing the Edelwood to take him. When Railer finds him and tries to save him, he begs for oblivion, his heart and soul in so much agony, that death is a relief.

But Railer refuses.

Using his supernatural strength, Railer tears the Edelwood off the Mad Woodsman, ripping whole chunks of bark off at a time. Once enough of him is freed, Railer takes him and his lantern into Time Central station.

The Mad Woodsman is given a room to recover in. But he barely moves. He thinks he’s lost his mind completely and exists in a haze of misery. He refuses to change clothes or bathe because he thinks everything is a hallucination. He is beyond terrified of Railer and Beta, refusing to let them anywhere near him, screaming at them to leave him alone.

However, the Time Manager/Railer’s adoptive time sister, Unity, makes an effort to reach out to him. She takes the feral cat taming approach with him, simply being in his presence and acclimating him to hers. She gently talks to him, tries to help him take care of himself, and makes sure he’s fed. Despite her efforts, he doesn’t outwardly respond to her, often just shuffling back to bed after she coaxes him out. Unlike Railer, the Mad Woodsman never lifts a finger against her, only ever quietly moving away.

It’s decided that they can’t wait any longer to purge his body of the Edelwood oil poisoning him.

The day of the Edelwood oil extraction is a terrifying one. He is put under for the procedure, only for them to discover that Edelwood oil makes up for a quarter of his insignificant weight. He starts to fade, his mind accepting and embracing death as an end to his suffering. With his heart flatlining, Dr. Ingo of @nimbasamedical-train is called and the man is given life-saving blood transfusions, which he begs them not to administer as he wished for oblivion.

When he wakes up, his mind is strangely clear. He’s still miserable, but it’s not eating him alive anymore…

Most of his beard and hair has been trimmed short as the rest of it was filthy and got soaked in oil.

But when Unity comes to check on him, he recognizes her by name. Even when he was insane, he recognized that Unity was only ever trying to help, never daring to hurt her.

As he readjusts to sanity, he still has problems to face.

He’s forgotten what he looks like and can’t recognize faces anymore. He knows what his name used to be but is so full of self-hatred, he’s too ashamed to use it again. So he asks Unity to choose a new name for him.

Unity decides on Pyre.

He accepts it.

And his journey of recovery begins…

[batsplat]

akdjeklssj ‘bro why is being perceived such an ordeal’ is an all timer for that pic choice…pure misery in Casey’s eyes, Jorge clearly on an entirely different planet in his own mind, Valentino plottin & schemin all hours of the day every day of the week

from here. DELIGHTED to get this ask because I've been bravely resisting adding context notes to the text posts. feels against the spirit of the exercise somehow. but I LOVE this photo... not only is it just evocative in its right, but it also really fits the vibe of that presser and time period more generally. and your interpretation is pretty much spot on

the photo is from the pre-event press conference at sepang 2010. which was of course the race after motegi, where valentino put in a truly generational spite ride to deny jorge a spot on the podium. if anyone reading this for some reason hasn't watched that race, please go do that - just remember to shake your head the whole time to show everyone you don't approve of what you're watching. valentino had been heavily struggling in that stretch of the season with the nasty shoulder injury he should have already gotten surgery for. he's constantly in a lot of pain and he's also watching his irritating young teammate cruise to that year's title and he can't do anything about it... and jorge's closest championship challenger couldn't even start the race in motegi, which essentially ended the title fight then and there. annoying

so valentino does the only sensible thing you can do in that situation and decides he can at the very least least ensure jorge has a bad day. it is just so obvious that valentino would rather crash his teammate out than let him beat valentino in that race. it's some of the most aggressive riding of valentino's career, a duel that goes right to the last lap with quite a bit of contact between the pair of them. obviously it wasn't ever likely to actually cost jorge the title, but oddly enough the yamaha garage did not look thrilled by the show their riders were putting on. after the race in motegi, valentino is delighted as it's probably the most fun he's had in AGES ("was fun" he tells his mechanics the moment he gets off the bike), yamaha is furious at him for repeatedly almost knocking off their soon-to-be title winner... and jorge cannot quite avoid showing just how pissed off he is in the post-race interviews

except jorge's problem is that it doesn't take him long to realise he doesn't actually WANT to start this big drama with valentino - not when he's about to seal his first premier class title. it's effectively diverted all attention away from his first match point race... in the context of this dominant season, everyone's way more excited about this fresh bit of drama. valentino doesn't even really hit back at jorge's comments on this particular occasion. he did his talking on the track this time. quite a lot of talking, all things considered. so he can mostly get away with playing innocent and talking up how much he'd enjoyed that lovely fight with jorge. discussed more here, but these are his immediate post-race comments -

and of course valentino doesn't really NEED to say any more than that, because jorge's comments are enough to set things off. the media furore is such that by the time they land in sepang, jorge is very much in 'oh god please stop talking about this' mode. which leads to one of my all time fave presser moments: jorge straight up pretending like nothing happened at motegi. zero subtlety, beautifully awkward, not the finest moment for his acting abilities... but he commits to it, asks the moderator “what happened in japan?" - and then opts for an exaggerated "AH YES, I signed two more years with yamaha". and it's just. I suppose it does the trick in that he simply refuses to engage with the questions about it, but trust me when I say it's not the smoothest evasion of a question I've seen in my life

and while all this is happening, check out these all timer reaction shots courtesy of valentino and casey, kindly rendered in gif form by @/della46 (gifs here)

you can see jorge's little 'ahhh!!' in the second gif as if he's figured out what the moderator was referring to. I just. love both of their reactions so much. valentino's smirk as he does an exaggerated tip of the head to get a look at his teammate. casey's open grin as he likewise glances over at jorge. like it's just FUN... they both know exactly what jorge's doing and why... they both want to take a look at jorge's expression... they're both enjoying this bit of theatre. jorge is not enjoying this. he just wants to seal the title in peace

in the end, he does just that at sepang - though of course valentino has to steal the limelight once again by coming back from twelfth on the first lap to beat jorge and dovi. also just happens to be valentino's 46th win for yamaha, because of course it is. which leads to quality scenes in parc fermé, where the cordial congratulations between the pair of them gives way to them hamming it up with their celebrations a few feet away with each other. dovi's presence also adds a certain je ne sais quoi to proceedings, with him and valentino just ever so friendly with each other on the podium in a moment of anti-jorge solidarity. two men who simply refused to lose to jorge lorenzo on that particular day

and with that, back to the pre-event presser photo. following on from some proper fun press conference theatrics. features casey, who is at this point just waiting out the rest of his ducati career - he'd recently stumbled upon a rich vein of form, but ducati's decline was still ongoing and he just seemed sick of the whole thing. immediately crashes out of sepang too. valentino, who has been in severe pain since the second race of that season and really, really should be going off to get his shoulder fixed - but as least he's managed to make life just a little more unpleasant for jorge during what should be such a joyous time for him. and jorge, who is about to achieve his biggest dream. who has just spent a press conference trying to play down this stupid drama started by his stupid teammate. this stupid drama which is now the biggest topic of conversation. and will be for the foreseeable future. he just wants to be left alone... please leave him alone

[rivetgoth]

Wild learning from your post that apparently there's a not insignificant number of people who think that hormones do things quickly and don't do as much after a few years because like. Regardless of whether you're actively noticing changes doesn't it just feel wrong to not be on it?

Like for me I'm an afab person who was told at 15 that I had too many "boy" hormones and was put on estrogen and progesterone birth control, and for the decade or so between that and starting low dose T last year I just felt wrong and off and bad. Like a low level dysphoria that was so constant I didn't even recognize it until I started taking T and feeling like my body finally feels right.

I'm gender fluid and before starting T regardless of my presentation I always just felt off, like I could never do gender good enough. Now I regularly get gender euphoria, and if my presentation doesn't match how I'm feeling gender wise on a given day I get dysphoric over specific things instead of just generally feeling bad.

Like I'm not currently noticing active changes but even with that I really don't want to stop taking T, because I know how I feel off it and I know how I feel on it and regardless of whether it's doing anything anyone else can see if it's doing something for me (and it very much is) I want to stay on it.

I am excited to move forward in life with the combination of hormones that I'm currently on, and I hope that more people learn that growing old and aging while being on T is not only possible, but something they might actually genuinely want for themselves, the way I want it for me

Yeah honestly, like I gotta just try to assume that people who even conceptualize T as something they’d okay with being off of just… have a totally different experience than me in some ways lol. Going on testosterone was genuinely a necessity for my life to even begin. I don’t feel like I was fully a person before I started T. Everything—and I genuinely mean everything—in my life kickstarted after I began hormone replacement therapy. For the first time ever I was able to fully exist and even thrive.

And of course all the changes are/have been great and I love being able to pass etc but honestly it runs way deeper than that. From the first dose I ever took to current doses that are way more for upkeep than any imminent changes (it’ll be 6 years next week so I’m mostly done seeing anything super noteworthy except more facial hair [please🙏]), just knowing my body’s endocrine system is testosterone dominant provides a sense of relief and correctness in my daily life that I cannot imagine living without… literally. I honestly would still want to be on T if it caused 0 external changes and was purely internal. I feel within my soul that my body was meant to operate as it does on testosterone.

I am a huge proponent for body modification of all types and especially body modification that challenges sex and gender norms so I have nothing but respect for individuals who consciously choose to go on T for a short period of time to receive changes they want in order to appear more androgynous or masculine or just broadly gender nonconforming in appearance, I genuinely think HRT as body modification is awesome, but I also stand by what I said in my post that I think there are some trans folk who basically deny themselves HRT due to influence from transphobic society and internalized/unconscious biases and don't even realize how much happier they'd be if they stayed on it... I can speak from experience that dissociation as a form of dysphoria, while kind of underrepresented in many conversations, can manifest extremely intensely as a refusal to even acknowledge your own misery beyond experiencing a general malaise that could be misinterpreted and misdiagnosed both by oneself and a professional not versed in trans issues with "generalized depression." I know HRT isn't going to be a cure-all for every issue, but I think even now the FTM community can really undersell how much of a difference having the correct endocrine system can be for us.

I guess it kinda ties into what I was saying earlier too about transness as physical and biological reality. I want to clarify that I think “trans people are mentally intersex” or “trans people become intersex” and all that nonsense trying to directly lump non-intersex trans individuals with intersex people is just objectively wrong at best and at worst outright intersexist as it ignores the reality of what being classified as “intersex” as a condition one is born with means and how it impacts those individuals. But I do think that sometimes people posit "intersex" and "trans" as these like... two sides of a spectrum of "sex/gender nonconformity," with intersex being "physically sex/gender nonconforming" and transness being like... "mentally" non conforming? But this isn't right either. To regard transness as purely a "mental" state is absolutely beyond reductive to the genuine experience of inhabiting a transgender body and engaging in the active destruction of the oppressive and artificial binary that is “biological sex.”

But with all that out of the way, congrats on starting T! :-)

[skzoologist]

Ok so I have another idea,

So bae is having a bad day and struggling with something, feeling insecure making him feel really stressed and down and he considers harming himself to cope with it thankfully one of the members notice him (Feeling in a minho or chan mood rn so if you could write it as them that would be amazing) and check up on him right before he was about to and stops, him comforting bae

P.S You don't have to write it if you aren't comfortable writing something like this. Ngl I dunno what came over me with this, maybe I am self projecting?

-🐿️

word count: ~2.1k

warnings: self-harm, self-deprecating thoughts

genre: heavy angst, hurt/comfort

a/n: I know I got another ask from a different follower a day ago, but this is just activating my own spidey senses, so this enjoys priority. Also I'm alright writing this, because it touches on a part of Bae's lore that I haven't revealed yet, so don't worry about that. But 🐿️ anon, my sweetie, if you ever really have these thoughts, talk to someone. Anyone. A friend, family, heck, even me or another online person! This isn't a long-term solution, but it can help tremendously. This goes for everyone too: if talking to me or requesting something like this helps, never hesitate to do so! Life is hard and we sometimes need some time and help to recuperate and get back to our feet. There's no shame in it.

Please let me know if I left a warning or anything out, I will add it in! Reblogs, likes and feedback are greatly appreciated!

!I don't condone anyone stealing my work and posting it anywhere without my permission, or feeding it to AI!

!This is just fiction, my interpretation of Stray Kids. By no means is this how they are and how they behave in real life!

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

As soon as Bae opened his eyes, he felt the air heavily pressing onto his skin, as if a weight was fused onto the upper layer. His limbs felt sluggish, as if his own blood and bones were cast out of pure steel and misery. The light that successfully seeped through the thick curtains felt too bright, earning a low hiss from the male.

Mornings after a migraine were always hard to bear.

The one he’d had the previous day was particularly harsh, rendering him useless as he’d been just carried away by his bandmates to the dorms in urgency. All schedules’s been cancelled for him immediately, Chan telling him how it was alright, how he should only ever focus on his own health.

It made his stomach churn.

Everyone was working themselves to the point of exhaustion every single day, yet here he was, laying in bed once again, causing inconvenience for everyone. He hated it with every fibre of his being, the feeling seeping deep inside and nestling there. 

Yet, Bae put a lock onto the gate this monstrous being hid behind, forcing his limbs to move, the motion cumbersome and difficult. What would have only taken him a few minutes now took ten or twenty, an obscuring fog settling over most of his mind. Nothing felt right, yet he powered through it, refusing to leave out another day of work. 

Not even Chan could stop him.

After his morning routine was done and his horribly pale skin was hidden behind makeup, he went out of his room at his own, slow pace, knowing fully well no one else was at the dorms anymore. They were all already at the company, busy with their solo schedules and practices. He himself had to be at a photoshoot in an hour, or at least according to his original, filled out schedule. His hyungs adamantly gave him not only yesterday off, but two other days as well, not leaving him any room for argument.

Little did they know he’d told his own manager to reschedule those two days amidst head-splitting pain and blurry vision. It was an arduous task, but he’d managed.

Once he was down in the lobby and ready to go, his driver was surprised, safe to say, the expression obvious as it sat out onto his face. But he’d been working with Bae for long years now, thus that was the only indication about the idol’s unexpected appearance. No words were exchanged, the two acknowledged the other with a respectful nod and off they were to their destination.

The drive wasn’t long, leaving Bae no time to sink into his thoughts as he watched the scenery fly by through the window. Even the weather was feeling down, the skies grey and melancholic. It felt as if in the next minute the clouds would start weeping, openly pouring their heart out in a silent farewell.

Once the car was parked, he slightly nodded at the driver who was looking back at him, opening the door and stepping out onto still dry pavement. His legs automatically took him into the company, something he was grateful for with his hazy mind. The only thoughts that were coherently formed in there were about his bandmates and how he wished he wouldn’t run into them accidentally. He really didn’t have the energy to hear what they had to say and berate him over not resting.

It seemed like his prayers were heard, nobody noticing him as he was silently walking through the halls, as if he was a ghost tied to them for eternity. The moment the staff saw him enter the room they bowed and greeted him, something he reciprocated silently with a bow of his own. 

He was soon whisked away to a chair, his makeup and hair professionally done. Even if the workers noticed the bags under his eyes or his unnaturally pale complexion, none of them acknowledged it, opting to instead silently work away with precise movements. 

The different array of powder snugly stuck to his skin, just enough to make him feel like the idol he was supposed to be, not a smidge more. The colours were vibrant, the exact opposite of what he felt like under the mask he’d put up, something that fit his idol self only. His bleached, white hair was gently clipped up, a few chosen strands taken out and purposefully left hanging down, framing his face elegantly. A glint caught his eye, the dangly earring in his left ear catching light and shining brightly.

The man who looked back at him in the mirror felt like someone else.

Tearing his gaze away, he let the stylists choose his outfit and got into position, everyone’s eyes on that stranger who he was supposed to be. With a cold gaze he did his job, perfectly executing everything that was expected of him. Even after the sixth outfit change, the final one, and endless photos taken over the course of hours, his expression remained unchanged, focus solely on the camera that was pointed directly at him.

The way back home felt like a blur to him. Stripped of the branded clothes and sheltering makeup on his face, he felt vulnerable, something those dark, swirling thoughts started taking advantage of. He tried to think of anything else, of food or even a favourite TV show.

None of it worked.

They all circled back to how he shouldn’t be skipping the group’s dance practice, how miserable he looked and how he felt nauseous, even though he hadn’t eaten anything all day. Horrendous scenarios played through his head, worsening with every passing second, each ending with him being forced to leave the group.

He really should cook something. If not for himself, then his bandmates, who no doubt would be hungry by the time they got back to the dorms.

But what if… What if they wouldn’t want to eat it? Why would they? After all, he was someone undeserving of their love, to be in the group, useless with a malfunctioning body. He wouldn’t be surprised if one of them finally would have had enough of his constant migraines and the hassle that always came with it, the constant darkness and hushed voices as he was carried away, unmoving.

He also didn’t have an amazingly unique voice like Felix, or dance moves like Minho. Hell, he didn’t even know how to produce music, like 3RACHA.

He was useless.

The knife in his hand glinted, surrounded by half-chopped vegetables. A thought ran through his head, one that would solve all his problems, permanently ending them.

Pale skin drew him in, dark veins peeking through. It felt inviting, as if it somehow grew a mouth itself and called the knife’s name, inescapably alluring.

“Bae?”

His eyes were drawn from the freshly drawn blood, only a few droplets escaping and coating the surface of the blade in a bittersweet vermillion colour. Chan just stood there, frozen, hand stopped midair, no doubt in the process of taking off his bag. Their eyes met, dull ones with pure panic, darting between the knife and Bae’s eyes, as if no matter how hard their owner tried, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

The thud of the bag was loud in the heavy silence, unsure footsteps soon following it.

Bae just watched as the older walked towards him, steps wobbly and out of their usual, steady rhythm. Shaking hands reached towards his own ones, gently prying them apart and away from the stained, sharp object.

An even shakier breath left Chan’s lips as he just stood there, still holding the other’s hands in his gentle hold, blood now painting his skin in small rivers. Their eyes couldn’t meet this time, no, the leader’s own gaze focused on their conjoined hands, expression hidden from the younger.

Not a sound could be heard as Bae was led towards the bathroom, Chan’s hands quietly working away on taking care of the fresh wound. Bae similarly didn’t say anything, not even hiss left his lips when the alcohol touched open skin, or when it was finally sealed off, left to heal in peace.

The two remained there for a while, one standing, the other sitting, until the silence was broken by quiet sniffles, the older’s lip wobbling and eyes shining with unshed tears.

“What were you thinking?” - his voice was a broken little thing, as if he himself got hurt by the knife instead of Bae.

The younger stayed silent, numb and unwilling to burden anyone with his worthless thoughts. He didn’t deserve being cared for like this, something the voices whispered to him relentlessly.

“Bae, why did you do it? Do you hate being with us this much?”

His head snapped up from where he was observing the tiles underneath his feet, wide eyes staring into Chan’s tear-filled ones. Those obsidian orbs were filled with sorrow, the usually bright nebulas now hidden in darkness. The sight alone broke something in Bae, as if he was pulled up onto the surface of an alaskan lake from its deep, imprisoning depths.

A sound left the younger’s lips, something that vaguely resembled a word, yet no one could tell. It was quiet, broken, much like the male himself. More soon followed its wake, finally donning the form of a word and adamantly denying Chan’s question with their sole existence. His head shook as tears finally fell down upon shaking hands, ones that were raised in a sad attempt of hiding away. Chan didn’t hesitate to hug the unravelling boy in front of him, his standing form easily engulfing Bae’s small, sitting one.

“Then why?” - the question was careful, as if a single wrong word could shatter Bae into irreparable pieces.

“I don’t feel worthy to be here.” - that was the simple answer he got.

The grip on the younger tightened impossibly, Chan’s form rigid and unbreathing. It prompted Bae to snake his hands further up, clinging onto the fabric there desperately, hold more secure on his hyung. His head was buried in Chan’s stomach, afraid to be seen like this.

“My moonlight, look at me.” - it was a gentle request, one that was accompanied by tender hands, holding onto tear-stained cheeks and leading them out of their hiding.

Thumbs softly swiped the droplets away from underneath dark, confused eyes.

“You’re one of the hardest working people I’ve ever met, and I’ve been in this demanding industry for longer than anyone should have. There’s a passionate fire burning inside you, one that you never let lose its intensity. Not only do you practise and work relentlessly, you also have amazing talent in everything you do. Your singing is wonderfully soft, perfectly harmonising with anyone you sing with. You know every single one of our dances to the point where if I were to start a song from any point, you would know what dance move goes with it. And you always look amazing, no matter what you wear or do. On top of all that, you never fail to help us or listen to our problems. Never once have you turned us away in all these years.”

Chan’s eyes held a soft light, a gentle smile dancing on his lips. It stole the breath out of Bae’s lungs, his eyes stinging as a fresh wave of tears started forming.

“You can ask any of us, we would only sing your praises. Because they’re true, baby. You might get migraines often, but then what? That doesn’t make you any less of us. You work hard enough already, a little rest won’t take away from that.”

He stopped for a moment, as if a fond memory appeared in front of his eyes.

“Did you know? I love the little snacks you sneak into my bag that I take to the studio with me. I also love the little notes you always give me with it and the silly little drawings on them. I’ve never thrown one out ever since you started giving them to me.”

The look on Chan’s face was entirely too fond, something that Bae couldn’t possibly look at for too long, lest his chest burst into loved pieces. No, hiding into the fabric of his hyung felt better, unwilling to think about the way the man’s lips curved up, dimples peeking through, or the way his eyes were just slightly crinkled, holding the warmth of a star itself even through those crystal droplets.

“You’re loved, Bae. Never forget that.”

[hamliet]

It's A Boys' Love Story, Your Honor: Be Gay, Do Crimes

This review is often satirical and sometimes facetious. Or is it?

Anyways I got dragged into watching HIGH&LOW, a Japanese action show full of pretty boys punching each other. Aside from me wondering how all of them don't have CTE and screaming CHEST COMPRESSIONS when one character codes and the nurse like... walks away (he's ok the power of friendship is stronger than any defibrillator), it turned out to be a surprisingly excellent, enjoyable, and even poignant watch.

The plot is vibes at best and the narrative ideas are less formed than, say, those of Kinnporsche. But, what it does have down pat is characters. Pretty much every character is compelling from their introductory scene (except for the Mighty Warriors who exist purely to suck). The characters may not necessarily be the most complex or psychologically challenging, but they come across as intriguing enough, flawed enough, to carry series on their own. Like, I would honestly watch a full series based on any one of them.

To be honest, this show does more to establish who a character is, what they want, and make them interesting within a character's first 30 seconds than some high-brow directors do with three hours of film. I would honestly recommend it to anyone trying to understand how to characterize.

Also, it's basically a yaoi but with fighting instead of f*cking. It's just dripping in homoeroticism that they infuse with just enough plausible deniability that insecure straight guys can watch it too!

Although, being straight in this 'verse is pretty much a misery sentence for everyone except Kizzy and Kaito. I haven't seen such flagrant use of bury/break up your straights since Togashi.

But:

It's not a yaoi! you say.

To which I shall respond with numerous examples of what the f*ck is this then? The power of (b)romance?

Doubt. (Heh ifkyk.)

Cobra + Murayama

The same episode we get a girl having a crush on Murayama he's shown as completely disinterested because he's too hung up on Cobra. This leads to him seeking Cobra out. And also to him having realizations about himself. He's then kind to the girl, but not romantically interested. The framing of this Cobra-Murayama realization about himself with the episodes opening with a girl pining and ending with his kindness to her is clearly to get the audience thinking about romance and the other interactions in light of that.

Murayama embarrassingly asks to join Cobra in front of all the other gangs.

Murayama calls him Cobra-chan and sides with Cobra when all the other leaders of SWORD refuse. All three others have left but Murayama still tells Cobra he has his vote, even though it's not going to do anything, just so Cobra knows Murayama's on his side.

In End of Sky Murayama literally going behind Cobra's back to get Hyuga to agree to join Cobra's alliance to protect him, at personal risk to Murayama, even though Cobra will never know what he did for him, when even those most loyal to Cobra have abandoned him, is literally a romance trope as old as time. And it's literally set to inspirational music.

Murayama calls him Cobra-chan and sides with Cobra when all the other leaders of SWORD refuse. All three others have left but Murayama still tells Cobra he has his vote, even though it's not going to do anything, just so Cobra knows Murayama's on his side.

At the end of the movies, Murayama gets a motorcycle and is implied to join Sannoh eventually with clever color symbolism as @eatprayworm points out.

As if we didn't get it, The Worst literally shows us Murayama calling Cobra-chan on his phone and tells us that he frequently drunk calls Cobra by having him say that he's not calling about bikes... this time. This phone call shows 0 narrative purpose besides reminding us that Murayama's endgame is with Cobra.

Chiharu + Yamato

Yamato saves his life and then is told he has to "take responsibility for" Chiharu, which is totally not a reference to the common idea of a guy taking responsibility for knocking a girl up--

except it is explicitly because even Yamato's mom directly asks if he knocked someone up when she hears that he has to "take responsibility" for someone.

When they finally reconcile after Chiharu confesses to drugs Tetsu tells them "you look good together."

Chiharu then takes a bullet for Yamato. I mean, not actually, because it was a blank, but no one, not even the person firing the gun, knew it was a blank.

Tetsu + Dan

Whenever Dan expresses interest in a girl Tetsu gets mad at him and when Tetsu cuts off his dreads to be more appealing to girls Dan gets mad at him. They're in love your honor.

They'll leave a gang for one another.

They exist only in proximity with each other.

Tatsuya/Kohaku/Tsukumo

These old men are so gay. They started the fall. And by old I mean they're supposed to be like 26 but they are clearly played by actors in their mid-40s and so I'll just pack off and head to the Villages then.

Smok(e)y + Hiroto

Ah yes when you're wandering around Nameless Street looking for your older brother and he's not there so you and your other brother decide to leave but then! then! a sickly man wasting away everywhere but his hair (which remains luscious) walks in front of you, barely glances at you, and you instantaneously walk away from your brother and your life to go follow the twink. Much straight.

Rocky + Koo

Here.

They also use "anata" for one another. Which means "you," but also is frequently translated as "dear" because it's what married couples often refer to each other as.

The manga also implies they live together.

Yasushi + Kiyoshi

Everyone in canon refers to them as "Yasukiyo." They exist in a state of symbiosis with weird hair and insanity.

If anyone implies Yasushi was involved with drugs Kiyoshi will fight to defend his honor.

"He sacrificed himself for me!" ?????? That's a love trope, Your Honor. Don't worry, though. They're gay, so Kiyoshi survives his sacrifice.

Odajima + Todoroki

Fellas is it gay to spot a man across a battlefield and be so in awe you run over to him right away?

Is it gay if you then ask said man "you're different from the others. Want to play with me?"

Tsukasa + Fujio

Tsukasa mopes around like Bella after Edward left after Fujio moves away for like a week.

Tsukasa takes a bus ride across the country for the chance to fight his BFF again in the rain (wet, what is symbolism) and then tells him "I'll be waiting for you." And also "I should move here because it's boring without you."

Tsukasa might be held as a hostage but he knows Fujio will come for him. In fact his relationship with Fujio is explicitly paralleled with Amagai and Suzaki's.

Amagai + Suzaki

The redemptive power of love, as beautifully written by @eatprayworm here.

I mean Suzaki literally can barely stand and limps over to protect Amagai when Amagai is experiencing the consequences of his actions and then saves Amagai from himself.

At the end of the day all he wants is to be boyfriends with Amagai.

Probably my favorite ship because it's everything I love, meaning one of them is too good for this world and one is a bastard.

Nakagoshi + Nakaoka

Nakagoshi sacrifices himself for Nakaoka even in a parallel to Yasushi and Kiyoshi (don't worry, they're gay, so they live too).

Tsuji + Shibaaan

Do I even need to comment here?

And I didn't even get into Sachio's sunset conversation with Fujio, in which you visibly see the twink fall and then they, not knowing who the other is, subsequently meet and recognized each other on the battlefield like Mr and Mrs Smith.

Themes Too!

High&Low isn't exactly an uber-deep thematic exploration of what it means to be gay and do crimes, but the themes it does do it does pretty well.

One of those is indeed the redemptive power of love, which involves being seen and known. Y'know, that mortifying ordeal. Because love itself leads to freedom. It's true for Chiharu, it's true for Noboru, it's true for Arata.

Rocky and Kizzy/Kaito's story is kind of one of the best examples of the redeeming power of (platonic) love leading to freedom, and it takes like... 3 minutes? of the story. And it's not left unexplored; it's just succinct. Kizzy and Kaito are trafficking women and Rocky comes to stop them, and when fighting, notices that Kizzy is actually a transwoman. He stops the fight and says that he doesn't fight women. That's enough for Kizzy and Kaito to follow Rocky, giving up their life of cruel crime and atoning--truly atoning--by spending the rest of their lives doing exactly the opposite of their crimes: fighting to free women from traffickers and protect them.

The significance of that moment is that by seeing Kizzy as she really was, Rocky pointed out to Kizzy that she was engaging in self-harm, keeping herself trapped (symbolically) and never able to live as she could. But for Kizzy, to be truly free to be herself means helping other women also be free. It's also, even if unintentional, a good twist on the transphobic trope and conservative talking point of a transwoman trying to harm women (cough, she who shall not be named).

Kizzy also never styles herself super feminine even after gender confirmation surgery (as implied by Rocky that she received), but she still is a woman, and her being herself leads to redemption and freedom for everyone around her. We stan Kizzy and her loyal boyfriend (husband?) Kaito in this house.

Another theme, and connected to the idea of self-discovery and freedom and love and all that, is how to handle the past, a question everyone is always asking because as long as we're alive, we're evolving. Obviously we see that with the Amamiya brothers and the Mugen backstory, and we also see that in the present with Murayama and Todoroki. But we also see this most sharply highlighted in the conflict between Cain and Smokey.

Cain is not subtly named after the first murderer in the Bible, who kills his brother. Cain, of course, kills Smokey in cold blood, with Smokey asking him "did you come here to kill me?" and Cain affirming that he did indeed because if he doesn't, he won't be able to completely erase his past.

But the thing is, you can't kill your past without killing yourself. You have to embrace it and let it live. And something as precious as a life won't be so easily destroyed. To live, you have to live with all of yourself, the past and the present and the hope of a future. It's a struggle, it's a fight--but with people beside you, it's worth it. Almost like the fights in the series are a metaphor for struggling through life or something.

And then we have gentrification. Let's just say the horrors of it are not exaggerated. Smokey's death--and life--offer poignant social commentary on what happens when people treat others like they don't deserve to live, like they are forgotten, like they don't exist. Because they do exist, because they love.

When Cain kills Smokey, Smokey tells him--in all sincerity, despite being abandoned by his parents, living in a homeless slum, and being terminally ill his entire life because the rich poisoned the people in the slum--that he lived "the best life." Why? Because the scenes flash back to him meeting his adopted sister Lala, caring for Eri, meeting his gang. He had a family, and he loved them, and they loved him. When he dies, he's buried in that same slum and Takeshi comments that "to Smokey, this [place] is heaven." And it is, because heaven is love.

(Also, the "rich poisoning people by being careless because these people don't matter" is hardly unrealistic. Bhopal would like a word with you, Dow Inc, you sh*theads.)

In Conclusion

Things you'll have to endure: multiple Mighty Warrior music videos.

Things you get to enjoy: Hyuga being a Barbie girl in a Barbie world who shows up to fights with all the Durama Ikka and planned choreography and bespoke songs.

Things you get to enjoy: multiple twinks needing rescue from being dragged into the drug trade to save their loved ones only to get whumped in true hurt/comfort fanfic fashion before sobbing in the arms of their friends who welcome them home.

Things you have to endure: Noboru trying to convince Cobra et al to join the Mojo Dojo Casa House Kuryu Group.

Things you get to enjoy: The power of friendship saving Noboru from himself, Rocky from dying alone, Smokey from having no meaning to his life, Amagai from himself, Murayama from himself, Todoroki from himself, Arata from himself, setting captives free, and rich bastards who trod all over the poor getting what they deserve.

Things you have to just not think too hard about: gangs seeing drugs as the biggest taboo which I'm pretty sure is not usually the case but hey, hoodlums have standards, and also the evil guys keeping their secrets in a folder literally stamped with the label TOP SECRET.

Things you have to endure: Smokey dying. I'm not over it. Someone fight me to bring him back. But also it's one of the most beautiful death scenes in fiction.

Things you get to enjoy: Generally no one, unless you're Smokey, straight (Takeru), or yakuza (no one cares).

Things you have to ignore: why no one ever studies at these high schools and why they all look like they're in their 30s-40s.

Things you get to enjoy: pretty great rep of a trans woman that directly counters some of the most harmful tropes.

Things you have to endure: Noboru being resurrected by the power of True Love's Handholding, because the nurse literally RAN AWAY from a coding patient to "get the doctor" but it's okay, his friends beg him to live and he does.

Things you get to enjoy: a series that founds its premise in action and violence that offers a surprisingly wholesome, kind message on relationships, humanity, redemption, and love... whether that love is platonic or romantic.

But, I mean, Final Mission literally ends with the gangs defeating the evil corporation with a rainbow-colored smoke that takes over the sky of the city. So it's gay.

[agustdenovo]

Eye of the Storm (Yoongi's POV.)

➻ pairing: hyyh yoongi x hyyh jungkook AKA min cein x jeon jeha

➻ genre: hyyh!au, based in the bangtan universe, pure angst bc is it ever anything else with these two? 😭

➻ summary: Yoongi can't live without Jung Kook. Yet, the only sensible thing to do is push him away, he tells himself.

➻ wordcount: 573

➻ released: 21st of june, 2024.

➻ author’s note: my first published work here hsjfshds this was honestly just something i wrote on a whim!! but!! i hope i've done these two justice, hyyh makes me bawl every 2-3 business days :')

disclaimer: i do not ship any of the actual bts members with each other, nor will i ever in the future. this is about hyyh yoonkook, characters from the BU, NOT the bts members yoongi and jungkook.

crossposted to ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56794450

I am a whirlwind of destruction. A tsunami batters my heart, my head is ravaged by perpetual sandstorms and yet no force of nature can hope to inflict even an atom’s worth of damage as I have done so already.

I am a storm, and Jung Kook is right in the eye of mine. He stands there, unflinching, and I, like a coward, decide to abandon him once more.

The light in his eyes makes me violently ill.

“Why didn’t you go see Jung Kook? Don’t you know what you mean to him?”

He said my music makes him want to live. I can’t steal that away from him.

I know what I mean to him. Of course I do, which is why I can’t let him stay. He has stars in his eyes, and I pluck them right out with the coarse words climbing up my throat, leaving my lips like dry lumps of coal. And despite every bone in my body yearning to see his teeth peek out in that smile of his again, I shirk his gaze. He calls me hyung. I call him something far worse.

I can’t tell if I’m the pathetic one for always leaving, or Jung Kook for always staying. My arms are tattered with his claw marks from all the times he refused to let me go. They’re my favourite scars. I rub my arms raw, trying to make them disappear.

“Go home, Jung Kook.”

Futile. Streamers of light from his eyes wrap around me, trapping me, glueing my feet to the ground. No diamonds can even hope to compare with his, twinkling in his waterline from the misty yellow and blue lights from nearby skyscrapers.

I curse. I yell at him to go away, but he refuses to budge. His conviction is almost as strong as my anger.

Or maybe he’s just as stupid as me, because he walks over and gives me a hug; like he isn’t the Sun itself. And I, the Moon, foolishly orbiting Terra when my existence revolves around a star.

Warmth seeps into the crevices of my heart. Jung Kook wants to save a man cursed from his very creation. Cursed to cycles of dolour, a samsara of misery. Yet, I can’t muster up the energy to push him off. His arms around me feel like relief and torture all in one. Liquid drips onto my neck. Fruitless to ponder upon its source.

Only after a long minute does he let go. I stare into red-rimmed eyes. My voice sounds unfamiliar when I choke out the same words again, and I clench my fists until my jagged nails draw blood.

“Go home.”

Tonight seems like a good night for a stiff drink. I wonder if the corner store will still be open at this time, instead of thinking about the crestfallen look on Jung Kook’s face. No matter how many times I cause it, it will never cease feeling as if a dagger were twisted into my very soul.

“Promise me you’ll come see me tomorrow.”

I turn and walk away, before Jung Kook can say more.

Maybe if I pretend he isn’t there, he’ll leave and not foolishly come back, for once.

Maybe then I won’t be forced to spit out grimy words and act like it isn’t killing me, for once.

Maybe, that way, I’ll be able to save Jung Kook from my cursed fate, for ever.

[allseeingbirchtree]

tbh i’m actually much fonder of the original anticross than any demonbane fan is expected to be. i think they’re fun as a messy villain group where no one really trusts any of the others, and nitroplus never misses with antagonistic groups (see: the rokuhara generals in fmdm, the necromancers in tokyo necro). but i’ve been thinking that the ones that i’m really partial to are the “quo vadis” anticross trio. there’s just something so special about them.

one of my favourite scenes in the entirety of demonbane is nero’s death in leica’s route. it’s not even her star route, she’s hardly relevant, doesn’t even get to be the c priestess here. she’s just there, dying in a ditch with no one who would care, and lamenting her own fate, tearfully. “what have i done to deserve this?”, she asks, and the real fun thing is that she’s done everything to deserve this. this fate is the direct result of her actions. she’s a monster, the tyrant amongst tyrants, she’s killed countless people, she is disaster given form. and, doubtlessly, she herself knows this. but what can she do other than lament her misery? is it not human to grieve that she has to die like this, all alone, unneeded? even if she truly deserves such an end, how can she simply accept it? she’s not offered forgiveness, like in al’s route. she doesn’t even know if she really wants forgiveness, because the humanity we saw in her back then was partly born of her being with people who cared about her. she’s not that kind of nero in this exact timeline; here she’s the greatest villain of all who still cannot resign to the kind of ending she deserves.

and in this exact moment, becrying her well-deserved fate, she’s somewhat akin to claudius in all three of demonbane’s routes. when caligula dies, is claudius even allowed to grieve? he, who kills indiscriminately, for fun? is it right for him to mourn a dear person’s death, when he himself doubtlessly killed countless people who too were dear and indispensable for someone out there? does he not deserve a lesson like this in his life? did caligula, who’d picked his fight himself, not deserve to die? and still claudius curses, violently, his miserable fate, overwhelmed by grief so profound that it turns him into a being of pure rage and sorrow. it’s a kind of pain so excruciating that not even dying and coming back as one of tiberius’ zombies in leica’s route can make him forget who he fights for, why he has to fight. even though he doesn’t have the right to either this grief or this revenge.

i like it when people say that demonbane is about hope vs. resignation. in a lot of ways it is. therion’s worst crime is that he gave up on himself, allowing the loops to simply carry him as destiny sees fit. if he wins it’s because of the wheel of fortune, and if he loses it’s because of the wheel of fortune. it’s a theatre show, all pre-planned, so why even do anything? and with this in mind, seeing a few of the ontologically evil anticross vehemently refuse to accept the suffering they sort of deserve is so fun.

cool little nightmare beings. love them.

[arcticdementor]

Anti-tariff Libertarians are regime cucks or traitors. Assuming we don't get Anarcho-capitalism, there are 3 places you can tax an economy to fund your (ideally small) government. 1. Income taxes 2. Sales taxes 3. Tariffs

…

The tariffs, taxing it when it goes through a port of entry, is the only one that imposes basically zero compliance cost and violates privacy not at all. If the port was entirely privately owned and unregulated, pure anarcho-capitalism, you'd still have to declare you goods and pay a fee... It’s just with tariffs the official is a government employee and the fee is larger. By contrast FORCING EVERY ADULT IN THE COUNTRY to fill out and return elaborate paperwork and surrender all personal information regarding every dime that's ever entered one of their wallet or accounts... That's not only a violation of the 4th and 5th amendment, that's totalitarian. Likewise forcing ever business to tax every single sale they make and report it makes small business formation, right down to lemonade stands prohibitive bureaucratic exercises... in 1850 90% of Americans were self-employed or small business owners, now it's 10%.... And a MASSIVE part of that is the fact you now require anyone who wants to do productive work to also become a part time government bureaucrat and surrender all information about their business, how they're surviving, or submit to being a wagie subordinate of someone who does. This is also totalitarian.

…

"Georgism GEORGISM! What about Georgism!? Land value taxes for everything!!!!!" Land value taxes create perverse lifestyle distortions where people squeeze themselves into the smallest environment they can, and then refuse to breed because housing costs so much… so you create misery and crash your population and race within a generation, and make everyone die childless and miserably in the most depressing circumstance by distorting the most important market after food, and making everyone feel miserable and poor.

…

Honestly I do not know the type of person who’d want Georgism except for the kind of spiteful person who doesn’t like to see other people have nice things and gets a perverse thrill out of the idea of no one ever feeling that they own anything free and clear, no one ever being able to live off grid, be self-sufficient, or return to folkish subsistence lifestyles (because you always need more government paper to pay to mere continue occupying the home you built). And who LIKES the idea of disincentivizing people to have children, eventually poisoning the economy with demographic aging, and forcing increasingly immiserated people to lead lifestyles of artificially cheapened city bug-life. It disgusts me.

[adarkrainbow]

The Tale of Tales movie analysis (2)

Let us begin with the story of "The Flayed Old Lady" - here depicted as the saddest and most tragic of all the three tales. To analyze each of the stories, I will compare the original fairytale by Basile with what the movie did.

A first difference lies in the character of the two old ladies. In the story they aren't just old - they are also very, very ugly (bearded and hairy hunchbacks with crooked limbs and yellowish skin), and also extreme complainers and basically Karens of their time. They notably keep accusing everything of hurting them for no particular reason - if they receive a flower on the head, they claim it broke their skull ; if someone touches their arm with a paper suddenly their shoulder is dislocated ; even dust is supposed to give them bruises. And so they hide shut away in their house, out of both refusal to interact with anything AND to hide their horrible ugliness. But in the movie? In the movie they are just ordinary old women. Old, worn out sisters living in the poor area under the king's castle, exhausted and deformed by a life of labor, misery and loneliness, but who otherwise are not particularly monstrous, wicked or flawed people and just wish to live their life without anyone bothering them. (At least that's how they start - the older sister's vices poke their head later, once the king enters the stage). By already making the old ladies into regular elderlies with a sad life, instead of the grotesque caricatures of the tale, the movie clearly sets the tone. It won't be a farce about sex and old people - it will be an emotional and human tragedy.

Speaking of the king, we have here the second main difference. In the movie, the king is one of the worst slimeballs you can ever imagine. His first scenes make it VERY clear what kind of character we have: he is a lustful king obsessed with women, who keeps organizing huge orgies at his castles, and is so depraved he even has sex with women while at a ROYAL FUNERAL. In fact, whereas the old ladies are supposed to depict the obsession with youth, the king is here reimagined as the pure image of sex obsession - or even sex addiction given how extensive and extreme his behavior is. But here is the thing: the king is clearly worn-out and tired by his own depravation. The orgy scene is very revealing - all the girls there are sleeping, everybody is exhausted, and the half-drunk king can just walk between the naked but lifeless bodies, grunting in annoyance, kicking them with his boots, not finding anything pleasant anymore... He has done all the girls he could find - to put it in a vulgar way - and now he reached the end of the horizon, he explored all the continents and can't find anything to satisfy him anymore. This is why he quickly grows this new obsession for the mysterious "maiden in the small house" - she is this mysterious unknown, this virginal purity, a last island to explore for this old traveller of the flesh who saw everything and is now bored with all.

And this is a departure from the original story. The king of Basile is just as obsessed - and he clearly is obsessed in a lustful way, as Basile evokes through poetic periphrases and comical allusions (he is "burning" in the lower part of his body, and "tight like a rope" while waiting for the promised maiden) - but his behavior is not one of a depraved, lustful orgy-man, but rather a caricature of the intense, poetic lovers typical of medieval and Renaissance romances. The reason he convinces himself that the old ladies are pure and lovely maidens is because of all those complainings I described above - he has this sort of ideal, Princess-and-the-Pea idea that only a delicate flesh, a noble person, and a precious beauty, could be harmed by such small things, and this is how he imagines in his head a superb maiden that does not exist - and the fact of not seeing the object of his love makes him even more extravagantly romantic and extremely imaginative. Basile story is more in the lines of "Don't get head over hell and don't lust for something you cannot see and only imagined" ; while the movie is more about "Reign in your lust and stop trying to have sex with everything".

In Basile's story, it is the two women that purposefully and actively decide to trick the king, because they are shrewd, cunning, deceiving old women - if it wasn't clear already, they are basically the ultimate caricature of the "wicked old woman", ugly in spirit and body. They clearly see that a king is in the position of a beggar, and decide to use their newfound power as much as they can. As a result, when the old lady gets throw out of the window, it is more of a "justified" punishment for her ambition, greed and active deception ; and when she tells the king "You summoned me here!", it should sound more comical than anything, especially since she drowns this argument with all sorts of proverbs like "Old meat makes better soup". But in the movie, the old ladies are forced into deception by both the king's forcefulness and one of the sisters' ambition. The element of a beautiful and precious necklace offered to the old ladies, and one of the sisters' refusal to give it back, forces the two women into deceive the king - or rather encourages the older sisters to create frenetically this plan to pretend to be a young maiden, especially out of fright of what the king might do to them. We are here presented with two women trying to survive the dangerous whims and possibly deadly lust of a king, but also a poor and worn-out woman who sees a chance, as small and impossible as it is, to get more riches than she ever had in her entire life. And this makes the "You summoned me here!" line very different - it is a victim trying to explain the situation she was forced into, trying to defend herself as the king suffers the consequences of his own madness ; and unlike her literary counterpart, that kicks and bites those that try to take her away, the old lady can only wail and cry as she is helplessly tossed out of the window...

But it is her obsession with escaping her misery that will make the older sister grow into the "bad" sisters or "wicked" sister - once she gets her wish of becoming a young, beautiful and wealthy queen, while she still thinks and care for her sister, she also tries to hide her and get away from her, ashamed of her own past, fearful of what the superficial king would do if he discovered her true self, growing more and more selfish, and ultimately causing the demise of her sister. The older sister's selfish detachment from reality manifests when she sends her sister a dress to come to the wedding - not realizing that no matter how glorious the dress, her sister won't know how to put it on and won't look good in it. The younger sisters, meanwhile, is also obsessed - but by her own sisters. Despite being an old woman, she is still a childish soul, who clearly doesn't know how body or reality works, who is used to obey or be bossed around by her older sister, and more importantly who cannot stand living alone without the only other person she loves in the world. This makes her ultimate fate a tearful tragedy, as she sacrifices herself to try to reunite with her sister... Only to die.

This is a complete reversal of the original story, where the flayed sister was actually the worst of the two, since the story made it clear that she was being gnawed at by envy and jealousy upon seeing her rejuvenated sister, so much so that she could not find peace and could not appreciate anything as long as she didn't know how to regain her own youth and obtain a somptuous beauty. In fact, unlike in the movie where the sister cries and screams as she is flayed alive, in the story she stays absolutely still and doesn't make a sound because, as she explains to the barber "One must suffer to be beautiful", making her an absolute embodiment of the vice of vanity.

The obsession of a lustful king leading him to have sex with an old woman believing it is a maiden... The obsession of a poor woman to get out of a misery to the point of destroying her sister... The obsession of a childish woman to stay with her older sister, at all costs...

But what about the magic in this story? you might ask. Indeed the story takes a very literal and realistic approach to the story. For example, instead of the old lady pulling her skin tight in her back, here she uses a hot glue to try to tighten up her skin ; and instead of hanging by her hair on a tree, she rather gets tangled in the bed's cover. The only exception to realism is when the younger sisters gets flayed - instead of dying halfway through like in the original story (bringing a realistic ending to a grotesque and extravagant tale), here she stays alive long enough to return to the castle - bringing a horrifying unrealistic note to a mostly realistic tale.

But there's the fairy. Or the witch. In the original story, the first old lady is turned into a beautiful maiden by seven fairies who happen to be passing by and laugh at the sight of the naked, old, ugly creature hanging in the tree - and since these fairies had never laughed in their life, they reward the old lady with various gifts (including youth, beauty, wealth, to be loved, etc). In the movie, the seven fairies are reduced to a more sinister and "realistic" character - a witch, who happened to walk in the woods, and also laughed at the old woman in the tree, but comforted and healed her. And did so by breast-feeding the old woman to turn her into a young girl. This act, symbolic, surreal, disturbing, highlights the topic of age that is so prevalent in this story. The old woman is returned to youth when an elderly witch acts as her mother and treats her as a baby - when it is later her own elderly sister that acts like a child, and looks up at her sister as if she was her own mother. The change in the scenes also serve the "raw" and "realistic" aesthetic of the movie - the old lady doesn't have beautiful clothes appearing on her like in the book, nor does the tree she is in turns into a throne, and it isn't just done by some random unseen magic. No - the old lady was naked, and stayed naked in her young, and the magic is performed by a visceral, physical act using bodily fluids to change the flesh. This also serves to keep the idea that this is a story of lust and not of love - because in the book, the fairies gift the old lady with "being loved", supposedly causing the love of the prince for the beautiful princess he sees in the woods. But in the movie, the king simply sees a naked beauty in the woods, and immediately falls to his knees - because he only thinks of bodies, of flesh, of superficial beauty, and this is enough to win him.

This same lack of love is what poisons the relationship between the two sisters - the older sister doesn't love her sister, or doesn't love her enough, while the younger sister over-loves her sister. This clear unbalance is what leads to their destruction - and ultimately, the older sister choosing superficial lust over true sisterly love is punished. Indeed, at the end of the movie, a segment completely invented is added: the new queen discovers that her youth is fading away alarmly fast, and is forced to flee her king, flee the castle into the desert to hide her true age and true appearance returning. A sequence illustrating how useless the fight against time is, how vain any battle against old age can be, and how the quest for eternal youth is ultimately doomed to fail. Even if you return to youth... it will only be for a brief time, before the natural world sets in again. In fact, it is a rule that the "Enchanted Doe" explicitely presents: in this world, magic is a question of balance, and all spells must ask for a counterpart and a sacrifice. When one receives a gift out of pure kindness like the old lady received from the witch, this blessing will never last...

The Enchanted Doe and The Flayed Old Lady segments are also tied by their two supernatural beings, the Witch and the Necromancer, who are given a cohesive appearance to clearly show that they belonged to the same kind of magic-users, and thus form another part of shared "worldbuilding" between the tales. Both the Witch an the Necromancer are skinny and elderly figures dressed in black clothes with a hood, and who randomly arrive in a character's life before leaving just as suddenly - and both ambiguously human. After all, the Witch is a forest-dweller who can still lactate despite her advanced age and whose milk restores human to their youth... But on a more meta-cinematographic note, the Witch can still be a "fairy" just like in the original tale... But a darker and more witchy fairy. I say that because the actress chosen to play the witch is not random actress: this is Kathryn Hunter, a very famous Shakespearian actress that had made herself known with a great performance of King Lear (I heard she was the first woman to actually play Lear on stage?), and whose most famous Shakespearian role by the time the movie was released... Was Puck of "A Midsummer Night's Dream", that she played in 2013.

To choose an actress still famed for playing the fae jester of the Fairy King, in order to play a character supposed to replace seven fairies is no coincidence, and it serves to remind even further the audience of the fact that, in Basile's original story, this supernatural character is a fairy - but in the "realistic wonder" approach of the movie, they decided to not make her a full fairy and not call her a "fairy", but rather keep the character as a mysterious, human-looking woman of the woods, a "witch". Here lies the ambiguity - is she a witch as in a woman with magical powers ; or as a witch like those inhuman hags of myth and fae-crones? We do not know, but the one thing we do know for sure is that the witch is the "third" of the old women of the tales, and forms a strange echo with the two protagonists. She is a powerful elder dweller of the woods - opposing the helpless city-dwelling victims. She acts like a mother to the old lady and treats her like a baby, the same way the older sisters bosses around her younger sister ; and she rejuvenates her, turning her old body into a young one, in a dark mirror of what the older sister is implied to have done to her own sister, turning her mind into the one of a child by dominating her life so much. And the parallel is even more disturbing when you consider that the witch gave true youth by an improbable mean to the older sister... While the older sister sent her younger sister to her death by giving her a false improbable mean to rejuvenate. Both these powerful women saw an old lady in distress, but whereas the supernatural woman truly helped the one she saw, the queen, only powerful in riches and social power, could only ignore her sister's pleas for help or give her massively bad advices.

Ultimately, this entire sequence is a tragedy of misunderstanding. The king misunderstood who the woman singing under his castle was, and fooled himself into imagining a beautiful princess - and so superficial is he, for him all old women are the same, confusing the younger sister for the older. The older sister, rejuvenated, did not understood the plight and distress of her younger sister, the same way she did not care to understand what had truly happened to her in the forest. And the younger sister did not understand her older sister's anger an sarcasm, resulting in her death... Only the witch seems to have truly understood the situation she was offered - taking care of the hurt old woman and giving her what she needed to escape the fury of the king. But even then, did she truly understood it? Or did she acted out of mysterious, fae reasons? We will never know...

Fun fact: Kathryn Hunter later went on to play the Three Witches or Weird Sisters in a Macbeth movie, adding to her role as a witch in this movie.

[timotey]

Ficlet: Galatea

The Sign. Phaya/Tharn. Future fic, DARK, DISTURBING. Unbeta'd.

Chalothon always wanted Wansarut back.

(Okay, listen. This is a DARK FIC. It doesn't fall under the "Death Dove, Don't Eat" category but it's definitely VERY triggering. It deals with the violation of bodily autonomy with far-reaching consequences. If you are sensitive and easily disturbed, AVOID! No harm meant with this fic, just exploring an idea, is all.)

*.*.*

After Tharn comes back, after Phaya saves him from Chalothon's hands, he avoids any kind of intimacy with Phaya. Not that he doesn't share hugs or kisses with him, when it comes to the bedroom, though, he absolutely refuses to even let Phaya in, whispering imploringly, “Please. Please, just give me some time…”

Phaya can’t stop his mind from going really bad places. Really bad. He hopes he’s wrong - he doesn’t think so - but he doesn’t know and he can’t know for sure without Tharn telling him. And though he doesn’t want to push, he doesn’t want to hurt Tharn, he needs to know, not out of some morbid curiosity but to help Tharn and how can he help if he doesn’t know what's going on, if he doesn't know how and–

Phaya just wants to help, so badly that his chest aches with it.

And then, one day, while Phaya is preparing to spend another night on the couch, Tharn appears in the bedroom door, just in a towel wrapped around his hips, and shifting from foot to foot, anxious and pale, he says very quietly, “Can you-can you come in for a second? I need to… tell you something.”

Phaya’s heart skips a beat at that because Tharn looks on the verge of panicking, miserable and haunted. He swallows hard and nods and in a voice as calm as possible he replies, “Sure, of course.”

Tharn disappears in the bedroom and Phaya follows him slowly, giving him time, and when he enters the room, he sees Tharn sitting on the edge of the bed, fists clamped hard in the bedspread, elbows locked tight, head between the shoulders, staring down at the carpet at his feet, as if trying to hide. And it breaks Phaya’s heart.

Crossing the distance between them, Phaya crouches down in front of Tharn, making himself smaller, and slowly reaches out to rest his hand on Tharn’s knee, making sure that Tharn doesn’t flinch away, looking up into Tharn’s face, watching out for any signs that his touch isn’t wanted. 

But it’s just the opposite, it seems. At Phaya's touch, some of the tension leaves Tharn’s body, he relaxes a little and covers Phaya’s hand with his own, even laces their fingers together and grips tight. His eyes are still down, though, avoiding Phaya’s.

Squeezing Tharn’s hand back just as hard, Phaya says soothingly, “You can tell me anything, Tharn. You know that.”

After a moment of hesitation, Tharn nods once and Phaya sees him blinking hard, fighting back tears. It makes Phaya’s chest grow tight.

Tharn clears his throat and takes a deep breath. Then, with his eyes still aimed at the center of Phaya’s chest, he says, “The Doc… Chalothon… he-he did something. To me.” 

When he breaks off, swallowing hard, Phaya feels as if all the air was driven out of his lungs. It happens so suddenly that he becomes a little dizzy.

Tharn continues. “He never-he… he never actually wanted me, as-as Tharn, he wanted Wansarut back. At any cost. And I wasn’t… her. He wanted me… to be her, Phaya,” he says, finally looking up when his voice cracks at the end.

Phaya can feel his heart breaking at the look of abject misery and grief and pure fear in Tharn’s face. He wants to spare Tharn this, he wants to say that he understands and be done with it. But he doesn’t understand and since Tharn finally found courage to talk to him, he needs to let him speak.

Swallowing again, Tharn explains, “He used his magic. On me. He planned on changing me. Into her. Body and soul and... everything. And he already started… with that. When you came. And stopped him. But, yeah, he-he already… started.”

Phaya watches as Tharn squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, and with another deep breath, as if steeling himself for something, he slowly lowers himself back on the bed, lying down. He undoes the towel around his waist with his free hand, and spreading his legs a little, he carefully guides Phaya’s hand between them, behind his shaft and balls to–

Phaya’s eyes widen and his breath hitches in his throat. Tharn catches his reaction and throws his arm over his eyes to hide behind it, to not see and to not be seen, mortified and scared and uneasy and so much more. He lets go of Phaya, his hand dropping limply to the bed next to his hip, as if he lost all strength.

Heart hammering hard in his chest, breath held, Phaya doesn’t move. His hand is still nestled gently between Tharn’s spread legs and his mind is slowly taking in what he’s feeling against his fingertips. A slit, a vulva. Impossible. And yet.

“He wanted Wansarut as she had been before,” Tharn continues in a cracked, wet voice. “Before she met Sakuna in her male form, when she still was his, untainted by a Garuda. He wanted to turn back time, go back to when she was still only his and–”

He’s crying now. Tharn is crying and Phaya can’t take it anymore.

Carefully, he extricates his hand from between Tharn’s legs, and getting up on the bed, crawling up and resting against the pillows at the head of it, Phaya pulls Tharn against him, moving him gently and hugging him close, Tharn’s head on his shoulder. Wrapping one arm around Tharn’s shoulders, he strokes Tharn’s face tenderly, wiping away his tears, kissing the top of his head, anything, anything just to make him stop hurting, to take away the pain.

Tharn sobs harshly, letting out all the dread and betrayal and stress that he’s been keeping locked up inside for so long. He’s holding tight on to Phaya, as if Phaya's the only thing keeping him from slipping, from breaking apart. 

Phaya returns the hug just as strongly, feeling like crying for his lover, for everything Tharn's been put through because of one ancient bastard who couldn’t take a no for an answer. There’s so much fury inside him, a rage so deep that he could tear Chalothon to pieces, bit by agonizing bit, if he got his hands on him right now.

It takes a while for Tharn to calm down and Phaya simply waits, stroking Tharn's hair and his back slowly, soothingly, holding Tharn as close as he can, reassuring him as best as he can. When Tharn’s sobs subside, he places one hand on Phaya’s chest, over his heart for a moment, as if using its strong, regular rhythm to center himself. Then he continues.

“This was meant to be just the first step,” Tharn says hoarsely. “He planned to remake me whole, first body, then soul. There would’ve been nothing left of me, Phaya, only Wansarut. If you hadn’t come, if you hadn’t–”

“But I did,” Phaya cuts in, sensing Tharn getting agitated again. “I’m just sorry I didn’t make it sooner. I tried, Tharn, I promise, I swear that I tried. And I’m so, so sorry that I didn’t get to you before the bastard hurt you. I’m so sorry.”

Tharn shakes his head a little against Phaya’s chest. “None of it is your fault, Phaya. None of it. I was just afraid that–” His voice fails him for a second. “I was just afraid that, being like this, that you might–”

Phaya lifts his head to look down at Tharn. He takes Tharn lightly by the chin and tilts his head back to force their eyes to meet. Tharn is pale and his eyes are bloodshot and swollen. He’s still and always will be the most beautiful thing Phaya’s ever seen.

“Don’t say that, Tharn,” Phaya insists firmly. “Don’t even think that. This doesn’t change anything for us. Just like Sakuna and Wansarut’s love didn’t change anything. I, Phaya, love Tharn. The way he was, the way he is, the way he will be. Always. I love you.”

Tharn blinks hard and more tears slide down his already wet cheeks. “Is it that simple?”

Phaya wipes his tears away with his thumb. “Yes. Yes, it is, Tharn. You are you. And what that fucker did to you against your will was horrible and wrong on so many levels but we will deal with it, together, like we've dealt with everything else before that. You heard the abbot, didn’t you? As long as we stick together, nothing can defeat us.”

A fleeting smile crosses Tharn’s lips, there and gone again. Then he lies his head down on Phaya’s shoulder again, tired and boneless in Phaya’s arms, one hand resting on Phaya’s stomach. “But I don’t know what to do,” he admits in a whisper. “About… that.” He shifts his legs, rubbing his thighs together unconsciously. “I can’t just ignore it.”

Phaya’s heart beats hard at that because Tharn’s right. Male or female organs - or, in this case, both - this doesn’t matter to Phaya but the consequences of what Chalothon has done to Tharn, those do. Who knows how far he changed Tharn’s body, how he damaged it - maybe irreparably even! - in his quest to bring back someone who never even existed, not the way that Chalothon saw her. It scares Phaya. It downright terrifies him.

He doesn’t let it show, though, when he hugs Tharn warmly, saying, “We’ll figure it out. We’ll find someone who will help, a doctor who’ll look you over, tell you what’s what - maybe Sand will know someone trustworthy? We have options, Tharn. Everything will be alright.”

Tharn returns his hug. “Will it, though?” he asks in a very small voice.

“Of course!” Phaya states firmly, planting a kiss on the top of Tharn’s head. “Trust me!”

And when Tharn nods, whispering, “Alright,” Phaya just prays that he won’t be proven a liar.