#did I make it all myself to avoid triggers

[03jyh23]

💬⌇like i need you part one┆ jeong yunho

│part of goes to waste the series based on my favourite keshi songs

│listen here

non-idol!yunho x non-idol!reader

│synopsis: yunho's love for you burns fiercely. as lovers turned exes, he's left shattered when you leave, moving out of the apartment you once shared. his nights become a blur of desperation, calling you relentlessly, begging for another chance.

│genre: lovers to exes, angst

│(!)trigger warnings:  alcohol abuse, smoking cigarettes, emotional abuse, panic attacks, mental health issues, toxic relationships, vomiting, self-destructive behavior, emotional trauma

│words: 6.1 k

│reminder: what you’re about to read is purely fiction, so let’s keep it separate from reality.

!minors do not interact!

— hi there! after an unholy amount of time I decided to continue with goes to waste series, i missed writing pure angst so much so... enjoy!!

love, mon♡

│taglist: @skittyneos │ @kyeos4ng │ @vcutparis │ @hoeforalbedo │

│ @ateezswonderland │ @jycas│ @velvetskize │ @e3ellie │

│ @sertralinehoe │

"Yunho, we’re better off alone," you said with a voice that trembled as you were packing your suitcase in a hurry. "I can't do this anymore," you choked out the urgency to leave was overwhelming; you needed to get out of this apartment. The suffocating weight of guilt and pain made every breath a struggle. Your perfect life with him had become a beautiful prison, and you were desperately clawing your way out. Yunho was crying, his pretty eyes red and swollen from the endless stream of tears. Despite his emotional turmoil, his breathing remained eerily calm, almost as if he had resigned himself to this moment. Each piece of clothing you hastily stuffed into your suitcase, Yunho took out and threw on the floor, his actions a silent but desperate plea for you to reconsider. The room was filled with a tense silence, broken only by the sound of clothes hitting the floor and the occasional sniffle from Yunho.

"I need you to stay," he said, his voice determined as he grabbed your wrist to stop you from taking any more of your belongings. His grip was firm but not painful, a testament to how desperately he wanted to hold on to you. "Please," he whispered, his voice breaking as he grabbed your wrist. His touch was tender despite his desperation. "Baby, please don't go. Whatever I did, I'll fix it. I'll be better, I swear to fucking god, I'll do anything." The raw pain in his voice made your heart shatter into a million pieces. The intensity of his gaze bore into you, pleading for you to reconsider, to see the love and pain in his eyes. The room seemed to shrink around you, the walls closing in. His voice wavered slightly as he continued, "Please, don't leave. We can work this out." The sincerity in his tone was undeniable, "I don’t even know what I did wrong, please talk to me," Yunho said, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions.

"I feel like I'm drowning, Yunho," you confessed, your voice barely audible. "Every day, I wake up and I don't recognize myself anymore. I've lost my dreams, my ambitions... I've become nothing but your girlfriend, and it's killing me." The words felt like poison on your tongue, but they were the truth you'd been avoiding for months.

"That's bullshit!" Yunho's voice cracked with emotion. "I've never tried to stop you from being yourself. I've supported every fucking dream you've ever had!" His free hand clenched into a fist, but even in his anger, his grip on your wrist remained gentle. "Four years, baby. Four fucking years of building a life together, and you're just going to throw it all away? Throw me away?” His eyes blazed with a mix of anger and desperation, his free hand clenching and unclenching as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. "You will either tell me the truth or you are not leaving," Yunho said, his voice firm and unwavering. The intensity in his eyes bore into yours, making it clear that he wouldn't back down. "I can't let you walk out of my life without understanding why. Don’t you think I deserve to know the truth?" His grip on your wrist tightened slightly, not out of anger but out of sheer desperation. "Please, just tell me the truth," he pleaded, his voice softening as he searched your eyes for any sign of honesty. "I need to know why you're doing this. I need to understand."

"You're suffocating me with your love," you whispered, tears streaming down your face. "You're so perfect, so goddamn perfect that I can't breathe. Every time I fail, you're there to catch me. Every time I fall, you pick me up. How am I supposed to grow when you never let me face anything on my own?"

Yunho's eyes widened with realization and hurt. "So loving you too much is my crime?" His voice was soft, broken. "Baby, if you need space, I'll give you space. If you need time, take all the time in the world. Just... please don't leave like this."

"It's not that simple," you said, your voice trembling. "I need to find myself again, and I can't do that when every part of my life is intertwined with yours. I wake up to you, I fall asleep to you, I breathe you, I dream you. I've lost myself in you completely."

"Then let me help you find yourself again," he pleaded, his eyes full of unconditional love despite the pain you were causing him. "We can figure this out together. I'll do anything, be anything you need. Just don't throw away everything we have."

"That's exactly the problem," you whispered, gently pulling your wrist from his grip. "You'd sacrifice everything for me, and I can't bear that responsibility anymore. I need to learn to stand on my own two feet."

Yunho took a step back, his hand falling away from your wrist. He looked like he wanted to say something, to argue, to plead with you to stay, but no words came out. Instead, he just stood there, stunned and heartbroken. Yunho looked more vulnerable than you'd ever seen him. "I love you so fucking much it hurts," he finally said, "And if leaving is what you need... if it will make you happy... then go. But know that I'll be right here, waiting, hoping that one day you'll find your way back to me."

You grabbed your only half-packed suitcase, some of your belongings still scattered on the floor where Yunho had thrown them. He observed you, his broken breaths the only sound in the room. "So you don't love me anymore?" he asked, but you couldn't answer him. You knew if you let yourself think about it, if you let yourself feel, you would stay - and that wasn't an option. At the threshold, you turned back one last time. The sight of him - your beautiful, loving Yunho - standing there with tears streaming down his face, still looking at you with nothing but love and understanding, nearly broke your resolve.

You looked down at the floor, unable to bear the heartbreak etched on his face. "I'm sorry," you said, your voice trembling. "I didn't want it to end like this, but I can't keep pretending. It's not fair to either of us.”

"Please..." his voice cracked with desperation, "Tell me you still love me. Even if it's a lie, just say it one more time." His eyes were pleading, filled with tears as he reached for your hand once again. "I need to hear it. Just once more. Please, baby." The raw vulnerability in his voice made your heart shatter all over again. You couldn't bring yourself to look at him, knowing that if you did, if you saw the love and pain mixing in those beautiful eyes of his, you’d drop your bag and stay.

You finally broke down and started to cry, a lump forming in your throat as you decided to keep silent. Your hand slipped from his grasp, and the loss of contact felt like losing a piece of yourself. The tears streamed down your face as you watched his fingers curl into empty air where your hand had been just moments before. Your silence spoke volumes - it was both your answer and your goodbye.

As you closed the door behind you, the sound echoing through the empty hallway, you could hear his muffled sobs. Each step away from him felt like a knife in your heart, but you kept walking. Sometimes love isn't enough, and sometimes finding yourself means losing the person who helped you become who you are.

"Hi Y/N," loud music in the background makes it hard to understand Mingi's voice through the phone. "Could you please come pick Yunho up?’’ the tone of his voice makes it clear that something bad happened, and your mind starts racing with scenarios. "I don't know what’s gotten into him, but he's been drinking non-stop and has already poured liters of alcohol into himself. I've tried everything to get him to leave with me, but he refuses."

"Did he tell you what happened?" you asked as you got up from the sofa, taking the towel off of your freshly washed hair. The urgency in Mingi's voice made your heart pound faster, and you couldn't ignore the knot of worry tightening in your chest.

"All night he didn't say much," Mingi replied, his voice strained. "Just kept mumbling your name and saying he needed you. Please, just come. I'm worried about him." You could hear the genuine concern in Mingi's voice, and it spurred you into action.

"I even called San to help," Mingi added, "You know he's fucking strong but even he couldn't force Yunho up. Poor guy’s so tired he's skipping gym tomorrow. If only Yunho wasn't so goddamn tall, San would've easily picked him up and left with him on his back." Mingi's frustration was palpable, and it only added to the sense of urgency you felt to get to Yunho. You felt your heart sink at the thought of him being in such a state. Despite everything that had happened between you, the idea of him suffering tore at your conscience. Your hands trembled slightly as you grabbed your keys.

"Could you bring his coat with you?" Mingi added, his voice tinged with concern though an edge of irritation was starting to creep in. "It's freezing outside, and this idiot came wearing only a denim jacket. He's going to get sick at this rate."

"Mingi, I..." you sighed heavily, fumbling sounds echoing through the phone as you frantically searched for something to wear. Your heart was already racing with anxiety at what you needed to tell him. "I moved out last week."

The silence that followed was deafening. You could practically feel Mingi's shock radiating through the phone. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely controlled, each word carefully measured. "You... you moved out?"

"As in... you moved out from yours and Yunho's apartment? Alone?" Mingi's voice grew increasingly strained with each question. "Only you moved out? He stayed?" The confusion in his voice gave way to something darker, and you could picture him pacing back and forth, running his hand through his hair in frustration as he tried to process this.

"Yes," you replied, "I moved out last week. Yunho and I... we broke up." The words felt like glass in your throat, cutting deeper with each syllable.

Mingi's breathing became audibly heavier on the other end. "I had no idea," he finally said, his voice now ice-cold. "Yeah, then I guess, um... don't bother coming?" The bitterness in his tone was unmistakable, and you could hear muffled cursing as he turned away from the phone.

"Mingi, please," you begged softly, "I can't just leave him like that."

"Well, haven't you already left him?" Mingi exploded, his voice rising sharply. You could hear the raw anger in his words now, no longer bothering to mask his feelings. "You know what's fucking hilarious? My best friend - my brother - had been drowning himself in alcohol all night, and I had no idea why. And now it all makes sense." His voice cracked slightly with emotion. "Yunho loved you, hell he still loves you, more than anything in this world, without a single doubt. Do you even realize that?" Mingi's breath came out in a shaky exhale, and when he spoke again, his voice was trembling with barely contained rage. "You know, he would never, ever leave you," he said, each word deliberate and cutting. "I've watched him pour his entire heart into making you happy. Every single day, he'd talk about you with stars in his eyes. He'd move heaven and earth just to see you smile. And now..." His voice broke. "Now I'm watching him destroy himself because of you, and it's tearing me apart."

The silence that followed was suffocating. You could hear the distant thump of bass music and Mingi's ragged breathing. "Yunho is in a really fucking bad state right now," he continued, his voice dropping to a dangerous low. "And even though every fiber of my being is screaming not to let you anywhere near him again, he needs you."

"So if you ever truly loved him - if any part of what you had was real - you'll come and help him get through tonight," Mingi's voice was now deadly serious. "We're at Newonce. And let me make something crystal clear: if you don't show up, don't even think about trying to talk to him ever again. I swear to god, I won't let you breathe the same air as him after this."

You hurriedly grabbed your coat with trembling hands and rushed out of your apartment, your mind spinning with a mixture of worry, guilt, and fear. You could feel tears welling up in your eyes, and you didn't even know why it was happening. Did your actions really set Yunho on edge? Was he really coping that badly? You felt a knot tighten in your chest, making it hard to breathe. The thought of him in such a state because of you was almost unbearable. You had hoped that leaving would somehow make things easier for both of you, but now it seemed like you had only caused more pain. The tears spilled over, running down your cheeks as you struggled to find the strength to face the consequences of your actions. You frantically waved down a taxi, your hands shaking as you gave the driver directions to Newonce. The ride felt endless, each red light an eternity as your imagination tortured you with images of Yunho's state.

When you finally pushed through the club's doors, the assault of pulsing music and strobing lights felt like a mockery of the heaviness in your heart. You fought your way through the crowd, scanning desperately for familiar faces. Then you saw them - Mingi standing rigidly by the bar, his face etched with concern and barely concealed anger, San leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and an icy stare that cut right through you, and Yunho... Your heart nearly stopped. He was slumped over, looking more broken than you'd ever seen him.

"Yunho," you called out, your voice catching in your throat as you rushed to his side. His head lifted slowly at the sound of your voice, and for a brief moment, his eyes lit up with that familiar warmth that had always been reserved just for you. But then reality seemed to crash back in, and his gaze clouded over with pain and confusion that made your chest ache.

"Y/N?" he mumbled, his voice thick and slurred. "Is it really you baby? Are you really here?"

"Yes, it's me," you whispered, gently placing a hand on his shoulder, trying to ignore how he instinctively leaned into your touch. "Let's get you home, okay?"

Mingi watched the interaction with barely contained fury simmering beneath his concerned exterior. He stepped closer, his tall frame looming over you, eyes dark with warning. "You better take good care of him," he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear. "He doesn't deserve any of this. And if you hurt him again..." He left the threat unfinished, but his meaning was clear. San remained silent throughout the exchange, but his piercing gaze never left you, his usually warm eyes now cold and unforgiving.

You nodded mutely, Mingi's words and San's silent judgment pressed down on you like a physical burden. Together, you helped get Yunho to his feet. San helped you guide him to the waiting taxi, his movements efficient but distant, refusing to acknowledge your whispered "thank you" as you settled into the backseat. Yunho immediately clung to you, his head resting in the crook of your neck, his lips millimeters from your skin, his breath tingling against your collarbone. He looked at you with his big puppy eyes, and you found yourself once again lost in them, unable to tear your gaze away.

"Your hair's wet, baby," he mumbled out, his voice slurred but filled with concern. One of his hands ran through the ends of your damp hair, his touch gentle and familiar. "M-My baby's gonna catch a cold." You felt a lump forming in your throat as you watched him, despite the alcohol coursing through his veins, Yunho's instinct to care for you remained strong. It was moments like these that made leaving him so incredibly difficult.

The drive back to his apartment was filled with a heavy silence, broken only by Yunho's occasional mumbling of your name. Each time he said it, the sound was like a knife twisting in your heart, carrying all the love and pain you'd caused. When you finally arrived, you helped him inside, settling him gently onto the bed that still held so many memories of happier times.

As you looked around the apartment, your heart sank at the state of disarray. Unwashed dishes were piled high in the sink, a reminder of how things had fallen apart. The curtains were drawn tight, casting the room in a gloomy shadow that matched the heaviness in your chest. Your clothes, the ones you'd left behind in your hurried departure, were still scattered across the bed - a t-shirt here, a sweater there, like abandoned pieces of your shared life. On the desk, your framed pictures remained untouched, frozen moments of happiness that now felt like they belonged to different people. Empty soju bottles lay on its side near the bed, and beside it—your heart clenched—sat an ashtray. The sight stole your breath. Yunho had quit smoking the moment you moved in together. Now the scent of cigarettes mingled with his familiar cologne, making your chest ache. The half-filled ashtray revealed how much he'd changed since you left, each stubbed-out cigarette marking his pain.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your vision blurring with tears as you brushed a strand of hair from his face. Your fingers lingered for a moment, remembering countless times you'd made the same gesture in love rather than guilt. "I'm so, so sorry."

As you stood there, battling with your conscience, Yunho's hand suddenly shot out and grabbed your wrist. "Please," he mumbled, his voice thick with need, "just stay with me." Before you could protest, he pulled you down with surprising strength, causing you to fall onto his chest with a soft gasp. His arms immediately wrapped around you, holding you close against him. The familiar warmth of his body enveloped you completely, and you felt yourself melting into his embrace despite your better judgment. His heartbeat thundered beneath your ear, strong and steady, a rhythm you'd fallen asleep to countless times before.

"Just for tonight," he whispered into your hair, his grip tightening slightly as if afraid you'd disappear. "Please, baby... just tonight." The desperation in his voice made your heart ache, and you found yourself unable to pull away from his warmth, from the comfort of being in his arms again.

You knew you should leave, that staying would only make things harder in the morning, but his embrace felt like coming home. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your back, and even in his drunken state, his touch was gentle, reverent. The scent of his cologne mixed with the trace of alcohol filled your senses, bringing back a flood of memories you'd tried so hard to suppress.

"I miss you," he breathed against your temple, his words slurring slightly. "I miss you so much it hurts." His confession hung heavy in the air between you, raw and honest in a way that only alcohol could bring out. You felt tears prick at your eyes as his words hit home, knowing that come morning, this moment of vulnerability would only add to the pain you both carried.

"Oh god, I am so in love with you," Yunho whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and desperation. His hand traced your jawline gently as if trying to memorize every curve and contour of your face. The warmth of his touch sent shivers down your spine, and you could feel his love and longing in every delicate caress. "I don't know what I'd do without you," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "You've become my everything, and the thought of losing you forever terrifies me."

You felt a lump form in your throat as you listened to his heartfelt confession. The sincerity in his words made it difficult to hold back your own emotions. "Yunho," you began, your voice trembling slightly, "I..."

But before you could finish, he placed a finger on your lips, silencing you gently. "Please," he said, his eyes locking onto yours, "just let me hold you for a little while longer. Let me pretend, even if it's just for tonight, that everything is okay."

You nodded, unable to find the words to express how you felt. As he pulled you into his arms, you buried your face in his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. At that moment, it felt as if time had stopped, and the world outside ceased to exist. All that mattered was the two of you, holding on to each other as if your lives depended on it.

And maybe, in a way, they did.

"I love you so much," Yunho slurred as he leaned closer, his breath hitching with quiet sobs as it mingled with yours, "I... I don't know what I'll do without you," he continued, his voice breaking completely as he struggled to speak through his tears. "It's killing me. It's killing me, and I can't... I can't breathe without you." A heart-wrenching sob escaped his lips. His gaze shifted to your lips, and before you could process what was happening, he closed the distance between you. The kiss was gentle at first, hesitant and tender, filled with all the unspoken words and emotions that had built up between you. His lips were soft against yours, tasting faintly of alcohol, cigarettes, and something uniquely Yunho.

As you melted into the kiss, his hand moved to cup your face, thumb gently stroking your cheek. The familiar gesture made your heart ache with longing. The kiss deepened, becoming more desperate, more needy, as if he was trying to pour every ounce of his love and pain into this one moment.

When you finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, Yunho rested his forehead against yours. Tears were streaming down his face again, and you could feel the wetness on your own cheeks. "Please," he whispered brokenly, "please don't let this be goodbye."

You reached up to wipe away his tears, your heart breaking at the sight of his vulnerability. The warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips reminded you of all the reasons you'd fallen in love with him in the first place. At that moment, surrounded by the quiet darkness of an apartment you shared for years and the weight of everything unsaid between you, you found yourself unable to form the words that would either heal or destroy what remained of your relationship.

Instead, you found yourself drawing him closer, letting his warmth envelope you completely as his breathing began to even out. His grip on you remained steady even as sleep started to claim him, and you knew that come morning, everything would be different - but for now, this moment was all that existed. And just like that, you let yourself fall asleep.

Your half-conscious state was violently interrupted as Yunho suddenly jerked upright, the movement nearly throwing your aching body off the bed. Through bleary eyes still heavy from crying, you watched him stumble to his feet. Before your sleep-addled mind could fully process what was happening, he had already bolted to the bathroom, the sound of retching echoing through the apartment.

"Yunho?" You followed him, heart racing with concern. He was hunched over the toilet, his broad shoulders heaving violently as he emptied the contents of his stomach. The sound of his retching echoed off the bathroom tiles, making your chest tighten with worry. Without thinking, you reached out to rub his back in a comforting gesture, but he flinched away from your touch as if it burned.

"Don't," he spat out between heaves, his voice raw and bitter, laced with a pain that went deeper than physical illness. "Just... don't fucking touch me. Not now. Not like this."

The venom in his voice made you take several steps back, your hand still suspended in the air between you. "I'm just trying to help—"

"Help?" He laughed, a hollow, broken sound that seemed to bounce off the walls and pierce straight through your heart. He wiped his mouth with the back of his trembling hand, finally turning to face you. His eyes were clearer now, the alcohol haze replaced by something far more terrifying – complete and devastating clarity. "Where was this fucking help when you walked out on us? When you decided I wasn't enough? When you left me alone with nothing but silence and unanswered messages?"

"That's not... that's not what happened," you stammered, feeling hot tears begin to well up in your eyes, blurring your vision. "You know that's not what happened. It was more complicated than that."

"Do I?" He stood up abruptly, towering over you in the cramped bathroom, his presence filling the small space with an almost suffocating intensity. "Because I don't know shit anymore. I don't know why the person I love more than anything in this goddamn world decided to throw everything away like it meant nothing. I don't know why you're here now, playing nurse to my drunk, pathetic ass, acting like you give a fuck about what happens to me!"

"Of course I give a fuck!" The tears were falling freely now, hot trails down your cheeks as your voice cracked with emotion. "How can you think I don't care? After everything we've been through? I love—"

"DON'T!" he roared, slamming his hand against the wall with such force that the mirror rattled, making you jump backward. "Don't you dare say those words. You lost that right. You lost it when you..." His voice broke, and you could see tears forming in his own bloodshot eyes, threatening to spill over. "Just get out. Please, just... get the fuck out before I completely fall apart."

"Yunho, please," you sobbed, reaching for him desperately, your fingers grasping at empty air between you. "Can we just talk about this? I never meant to hurt you like this—"

"To what?" he cut you off, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper that felt more devastating than his shouts. "To come back here and make me feel like the biggest fucking idiot for still being in love with you? For making me think, just for a moment, that maybe there was still hope for us?" He ran his hands through his disheveled hair in frustration, tears now streaming freely down his face, catching in his stubble. "God, I'm such a pathetic piece of shit for still wanting you after everything."

You stood there, chest heaving with uncontrollable sobs, watching helplessly as the man you loved tore himself apart in front of you. The worst part was knowing that you were the reason for his pain, that every tear he shed, every broken word he spoke, was because of choices you'd made, paths you'd chosen to walk away from.

"I said get out!" he shouted when you didn't move, his voice breaking on the last word like shattered glass. "I can't... I can't even look at you right now. Please, just... leave. Like you're so good at doing. It's what you do best, isn't it?"

That final jab felt like a physical blow to your chest, knocking the air from your lungs. You stumbled backward, barely able to see through the thick veil of tears as you fumbled to grab your things. The last glimpse you caught of him through the bathroom doorway was an image that would haunt you forever – the love of your life slumped against the cold tile wall, head buried in his trembling hands, broad shoulders shaking with silent, devastating sobs.

As you fled his apartment, the violent sound of something shattering against a wall followed you out into the hallway, the crash mixing with your own heartbroken cries in the empty corridor. Each step away from him felt like walking on broken glass, leaving trails of both your shattered hearts in your wake.

Your hands were shaking so violently you could barely hold your phone, fingers trembling as you tried to unlock it through the blur of tears. Each breath came in sharp, painful gasps that felt like shards of glass in your lungs. The sound of whatever Yunho broke is still echoing in your head, mixing with the memory of his broken sobs, and oh god, oh god, what if he hurts himself? The thought sends another wave of panic crashing through you.

You manage to find Mingi's contact through pure muscle memory because you can barely see the screen through your tears. "Please be awake, please be fucking awake," you whisper desperately as the phone rings. Your free hand is pressed against the wall of the hallway, trying to keep yourself upright as the edges of your vision start to blur. The panic is closing in, making everything feel distant and too close all at once.

"Hello?" Mingi's voice is rough with sleep, but it's there, thank fuck it's there. "Do you know what fucking time it is—"

"M-Mingi," you choke out, and something in your voice must sound absolutely fucking wrecked because he immediately goes quiet. "I... I need... Yunho, he's..." You can't get the words out between your gasping breaths, each inhale feeling shorter than the last.

"Hey, hey, breathe for me," Mingi's voice shifts instantly from sleepy to alert, concern evident in every word. "Where are you? What happened with Yunho?"

"I f-fucked up," you sobbed, sliding down the wall because your legs couldn't hold you anymore. "I think he's still drunk, and we... there was... I heard something break after I left, Mingi, he's so fucking broken and it's my fault, it's all my fault, and I can't... I can't breathe, I can't—"

"Listen to me," Mingi cuts through your spiral, his voice firm but gentle. "I'm getting dressed right now. I'm coming over. I swear to fucking god if both of my best friends end up in the hospital today—"

Another crash echoes from inside Yunho's apartment, followed by what sounds like a strangled scream, and you let out a broken wail. "Please hurry," you begged, your voice barely recognizable to your own ears. "Please, Mingi, I'm scared, I'm so fucking scared—"

"You need to get out of there," he says firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Stay on the line with me until you're in a taxi, okay? I'll make sure you get home safe."

"But I can't—I don't want to be alone, I don't wanna leave him" you choke out between sobs, clutching the phone tighter.

"I know, but trust me, this is for the best right now," Mingi's voice softens with sympathy. "I'll handle Yunho. Just please, get yourself home safely. Don't hang up until you're in that taxi."

You nod numbly, forcing yourself to stand on shaky legs. The sound of your footsteps feels thunderous in the empty hallway as you make your way to the elevator, Mingi's steady breathing on the line anchoring you to reality. Your trembling fingers somehow manage to open your ride-sharing app, and you hear yourself giving your address to the driver in a voice that sounds far away, even to your own ears.

♡│if you enjoy my writing please consider supporting me by tagging and reblogging│

[blueberrymori]

✭summary: reader relapses on a bad day and doesn't tell Bucky, leaving him worried. ✭warnings/tags: MALEreader (made with an FTMreader in mind) , angst whit happy ending, angt to fluff, suicidal thoughts, dysphoria, mention of self-harm and scars from self-harm, comfort and affection , sex with feelings, intimate and affectionate sex, Be careful if this triggers you, don't read if you know you can't deal with triggers, you are not alone and don't be ashamed to ask for help.

Growing up in a home where your parents are emotionally absent affects various aspects of your life, when your mother wasn't prepared to be a mother and throws all the traumas and insecurities she had at you, always making a point of emphasizing this in any conflicting opinions between you. A father who doesn't know how to apologize and lives drunk and has aggressive tendencies where he only stayed married to your mother to avoid paying alimony and in his eyes you remind him of your mother.

When you wake up in the morning after a long nightmare with your family and the lack of Bucky in bed next to you only serves to increase the feeling of anguish in your chest.

Bucky wasn't an idiot, he knew that there were days when you were more distant and did everything you could to occupy your mind, and those days made Bucky extremely worried, especially when he saw you isolating yourself without talking to him, he knew what it was like to feel distanced from being alone, and he, being your boyfriend, didn't want that for you.

That day when Bucky came back from one of his morning runs he saw you in the kitchen crying by the stove, he automatically thought the worst, he ran to you. - Honey? hey hey Look at me please - Bucky said as he placed his meaty hand on your cheek in a loving way.

The blue-eyed man looked into your eyes, tears blurring his cheeks - it's okay, I'm here now - the dark brown-haired man said as he kissed your forehead and pulled you into a hug.

-What happened, my love? Talk to me, or just cry and let it all out- he said as he brought his hand up to your hair and stroked it. Bucky kissed the top of your head and held you close until he heard the first trace of your voice.

- I had a bad dream...when I woke up you weren't here and when I got up to make coffee I dropped the cup and it broke - your weak voice between sniffles made Bucky bring his fingers to your chin and lift it gently so you could look at it.

- Did you hurt yourself with the broken china? - His voice was low and sweet as honey, and when he saw you nodding negatively he took you in his arms and walked over to the sofa in the living room. - It wasn't just the cup, was it? - he said as he sat you down on the sofa and sat next to you.

Your silence was Bucky's answer, he sighed and took your hand in his and looked into your eyes. - love, please be honest with me, I can't help you if you keep quiet - he said with his expression turning into a gentle smile.

- No... it wasn't just the cup, I think I've become a little over-aware of everything, my scars, my appearance... absolutely everything I hate about myself- Bucky intertwined their fingers together and continued to look into his eyes.

-You shouldn't hate them, they show how strong you've been, that you've been at your worst and overcome it -The dark brown haired man said looking at you with a gaze full of love and affection, he's been in your place and sometimes he's still there, but you were always there for him when it happened. -  And do you want to know a secret? You're stronger than you think, you're a beautiful boy, you're kind and on top of everything you're the one who showed me the light- he said, kissing your forehead.

-Bucky, how can you love me? - your question drew a sad laugh from him, making him pull you onto his lap and hold your cheeks between his hands so you wouldn't look away.

-I ask myself that question every day, how can you love me? after everything I've done and been through - Bucky said looking into your eyes which were dripping with tears, he smiled slightly and kissed your lips -I love you my prince - he said sprinkling kisses on your cheek as soon as his lips moved away from yours.

His meaty hand moved to trace the scars on your arm, he moved his fingers lovingly and held your forearm close to his lips, kissing the scars lightly. - I love every part of you, and I don't see anything as a flaw, you're perfect, from the strand of your hair to the tip of your foot - he said, leaving kisses sprinkled on his arm.

- Thanks, Bucky.  His voice made him look at his face again, and he tilted his head slightly.

- Thanks for what? - The blue-eyed man said as he moved his metal hand to wipe another tear from his eye.

- For taking care of me... not letting me give up.  The boy said, looking down at his scarred left arm, Bucky moved his hand and intertwined their fingers again.

- You don't have to thank me for anything, my love, I'm your boyfriend, we're together and I want you well and healthy- he says, smiling at you and pulling you to put your head on his chest as he settles down on the sofa. He kisses your temple and moves his metal hand to your back.

- I love you, my angel, every part of you, even the ones you think are flawed- Bucky says as he traces soothing circles on your back.

[artificialintellegencefreak]

Godpoke-sona!! Detail rambling and headcanons below the cut (Like a lot. A lot a lot)

Details about my creature in no specific order

-No one knows their name and when asked they jokingly replied with 'N, you'll have to earn the rest of the letters.' Their chosen name back home was Horns, they're thinking of changing it though.

-They're mute though fluent in sign language (a drainfolk variant), this has some complications. Not everyone knows sign of course so they usually carry around a notebook if they absolutely have to resort to writing conversations, Megapon has helped a lot.

-This unfortunately means they can't talk to Alexei at all without Megapon. :( (Someone please teach my mans to read???)

-Non-binary/Agender/???, they don't really care about gender, they're them and that's that. (They/Them before coming to the Grove but meeting Huzzle gave them some confidence so now they're trialing They/It)

-Drainfolk! An Earth family adopted them as a baby, this has had...consequences.

-Furry all over, it's technically green but it's such a dark shade most people assume it's black, you can really only tell in bright direct light.

-When their Earth family took them in they thought it would be pretty easy to hide the fact that Godpoke was drainfolk. They grew up trained to be completely covered head to toe, they were given the option to be completely shaved otherwise. Needless to say they've gotten very used to long pants and sweatshirts even in the middle of summer. They're familiar friends with heat exhaustion.

-Their horns are very small, only an inch or so and rather dull sticking straight up from their forehead. They're kind of glad they never got any longer, it would make it hard to wear hats.

-It was a bit of a tense time when their horns grew in. They had been allowed to leave their hair out, it looked natural enough but now they had to add hat's to their regular outfit. It was... a lot. They've gotten used to being invisible or trying to avoid attention. Becoming the Godpoke has been a big change.

-They don't really have proper claws, they're not even sharp enough to help open boxes. But they wore gloves to cover them anyway. No beans on their hands sorry :(

-Their eyes don't actually glow, but because they're such a bright color in contrast to their dark fur it's definitely giving cat eyes in the dark.

-They're kind of uncomfortable being exposed at all, but they're also pretty sick of being over heated all the time. So the poncho is a compromise, covered, but breezy! (Razzma helped them find it.) They're not quite ready to try shorts.

-The bandana is a new addition but they've been so used to neither being seen nor heard growing up that they never really developed proper social queues. They absolutely cannot smile on command and generally look about emotional as a brick wall. (Provided that brick wall is not Bauhauzzo)

-The messenger bag goes with them everywhere. It contains a water bottle, a notebook and lately, Megapon! (We'll say hammer space is readily accessible to people in this universe. Seriously why is Megapon that big.)

-Quick Trigger warning for this one! (Unintentional self harm) Because my godpoke is a reflection of myself I unfortunately gave them my bad habit. :( I've got chronic 'pick-at-skin-around-your-fingernails-till-you-bleed' so my godpoke scratches at their arm till it bleeds a lot. It's unintentional but tends to happen more when they're stressed. Post rift their arm is almost always bandaged. :(

-Quick tangent, I imagine in addition to their designated domains, the gods also have some mortal assigned dominions. I.E. Huzzle Mug is the patron god of trans people! While Godpoke did come to see King's ascension (at least that's what they told people back home) they also came to see Huzzle Mug for a 'blessing'.

-Headcanon: Huzzle Mug loves being seen as the patron trans god, and sees trans people finding themselves as an act of self invention. It often helps people with their transition via a godly boon, (Huzzle does a lot of magical top/bottom surgery). It can't alter bodies too much though, that much godly energy would probably fry a mortal brain, so alas it cannot make you a dragon but sometimes people come to it with more out there requests. Asking for inhuman traits isn't unheard of and generally accepted in the Grove, but as more animalistic traits are seen as a sign of drainfolk heritage most people don't ask for those.

-(I imagine drainfolk come in a very wide variety of forms. Why you might ask, when our greatest representation is a bunch of similar looking funny little blue guys? Housecat Man. Housecat Man is why. What's his deal? Where'd he come from?)

-So! My Godpoke's tail is not natural! They asked Huzzle Mug for it after everything settled down and it was clear they were going to be staying in the Grove for a while.

-My Godpoke is very used to being ignored or just straight up not noticed so the tails' purpose is two-fold; to help them feel more like 'themself' and also! To be loud! It looks mostly furry to match the rest of them, but has layered scales on the underside that they can shake to imitate a rattle snake's rattle and a stiff mat of fur at the end that if they whip just right can make a whip crack sound. They really only do that if they feel they're being talked over though. Just because they don't have a voice doesn't mean they don't have something to say.

Anyway if you read this far, thanks! Hope you enjoyed my little guy.

[godtrauma]

glen (@godisaknife) sexually harassed me after being told to stop

tw: persistent sexual harassment, parasocial behavior, suicidal thoughts. tumblr will not even let me use tw or cw to trigger tag this

a few months ago, i received a kinky ask after i had been sharing some thoughts about wanting a dom who was intense but caring. i received an anonymous message along these lines and at first i was interested and consented to the interactions, but i wasn’t too comfortable with the anonymous part.

while asking these questions, i was speaking with a mutual about them and how i was getting uncomfortable. he had replied on anon that he was an older mutual, and that’s when i knew it was glen; he had been liking my posts at the time of sending asks, he had a very particular typing style, he’s into that BDSM kind of stuff. i never thought of glen in a romantic/attractive way, and the fact that he’s younger than me, has a very “uwu” personality (something he literally types out), and often posts very distressing mental health/suicidal ideation to the point where i filtered his URL instead of unfollowing because i was worried that might trigger him. he sent a couple more asks, which i ignored and hoped he’d get the memo.

in one ask, he gave another clue “daddy G”

(note: please remember this is the type of ask/fantasy i had consented to at this point.)

i told the “anon” i wasn’t interested.

glen replied with the most obvious “clues” telling me who he was, and continued to use kinky language that i had no longer consented to.

(note the “ILY” after i told him to stop and calling me “his boy”)

i shouldn’t have to explain myself in why i didn’t block him then, so i won’t.

some time went by and i received a new ask, this time again with dead ringer texting style than i knew was glen. i tried to put him off in the plainest way possible, again attempting to not make him feel awful because i have a bleeding heart/savior complex personality even though i can barely manage my mental health.

(here’s another instance of him using “fren”)

glen did NOT get the memo somehow and persisted further, telling me this:

that’s when i had completely had it. this ask finally gave me the clarity and drive that i needed to message him to directly tell him he’d cross the line and that i was blocking him. i proceeded to block him everywhere else i knew him from.

i never considered glen and i very close. we both have severe and similar mental health issues that i knew weren’t good for each other so i didn’t message him often. i looked back on what messages i did send, and realized how many times he referred to be as “my beloved” and such. now of course i realize that’s weird, especially because the only thing i know about him is that he lives in italy, he’s 25, he likes horror and hannibal, and like me, he’s mentally unstable (something we have in common and im not pointing out to demonize him)

hopefully people can learn from me that if someone is upsetting you to the point where you avoid them, just cut the ties now. there’s no merit or benefit of trying to be the savior/helper when if affects YOUR mental health too.

do not go to glen’s profile and send asks/messages. block him, please. he’s in a lot of my mutual circles and i don’t want to see him around anymore. his actions led to a sleepless night, a panic attack, and paranoia. i needed others to know and avoid him and it’s taken all my energy today to post this.

additionally, and i can't believe i have to say this:

trying to discredit someone's sexual harassment allegations by saying that the harasser "wasn't TRYING to be malicious" or "lacked social cues" or "didn't threaten anything" are all victim-blaming mentalities that side with the oppressor. i can't believe i have to explain this in 2025 but lack of intent to harm does not equal a lack of harm. i do not think that glen is purposefully harmful but he still harassed me and that's what matters.

[thebibliosphere]

I'm still, so, so, so fucking scared to say my MCAS is in 'remission' (or as close as you can get with an illness like this), but I just had a gluten-free cupcake with strawberry jam in the middle and a white chocolate ganache on top, and if you'd told me less than four years ago that was a thing I'd be able to eat without going into anaphylaxis and setting myself back months in terms of recovery, I would never have believed you. Hell, a few months ago, I wouldn't have been able to eat this because I wasn't on the right meds.

And today I get to have a little treat with lunch because I feel like it.

[momochiiee-reblogs]

Being screamed at for things that aren't my fault seems to be a norm in this house

There's cookware scattered an dirty? Guess who gets blamed for it? The exact one that almost never has spoons for cooking in the first place

I live cleaning the trail after me so they won't have any reason to scream at me, but my brother leaves absolute messes behind him and the screams are for me

Fuck off

[lunarflare64]

I think once the batch of showdowns and competitions I'm following are done I should probably block the tags. Any feeling in excess can be bad, and for me the one feeling that can never come in moderation is competitiveness, I don't know how to back down and it makes me a kinda shit person, I've been holding back as much as I can, I don't think I've done anything mean, but I've gotten close and its not a mindset I'm fond of, it feels really unpleasant. So yeah, checking out of that stuff hopefully soon

[dragonanon]

I love that when I start questioning my child free stance in life, the universe IMMEDIATELY reminds me of why I don’t want kids. 🙃

[kaurwreck]

I think you're right that it's significant, and I think Mori is clever to recognize that Akutagawa is a rook.

Like a rook, Akutagawa is powerful, but generally contained and often undercut by his predictability. However, because he's keenly aware of his own constraints, and because others often aren't (especially regarding variables they've internalized as known), he's able to play into and against his own predictability to paradoxically surprise them.

He moves within the confines of his rigidity to shape outcomes, sometimes more effectively than his more dynamic opponents and peers. Rooks do that too, if you let them.

Me, knowing nothing about chess, probably overthinking the significance of referencing akutagawa in this scene, but is going to look it up later anyways

[drdemonprince]

ENM/Poly circles explicitly discourage real talk around jealousy, and practical considerations around nonmonog in ways that routinely exclude and excise POC and disabled people.

ENM/Poly expects everyone involved to act as though “love” is the reason for every relationship choice. Cliche #1: love isn’t finite. Which… sure. Maybe love isn’t finite, but attention and time sure are— and those are at a premium.

Cliche #2: Love is all you need/love is what makes a family. I am familiar with criticism of this from a family abolition, anticapitalist standpoint, but I have seen this be uncritically repeated by ENM/Poly people. It’s not true that love is what makes a relationship work or not work. It’s also about dumb shit, like geographical proximity and practicality. Good luck being ENM if you can’t regularly host because you have roommates or live at home. Good luck being the gold standard of ENM (out to everyone, including family and maybe even the workplace!) if you are any kind of marginalized. Love is simply not enough. There’s real world shit to consider.

Most ENM/Poly people are white gen x’ers and older millenials for a reason. It’s a framework that works awesome if you have abundant spare space, disposable income to blow, and free time. Plus most ENM/Poly people are heavily in therapy, and just have a fuckton of time to deal with their various baggages… or at least like to posture as though they are doing those things.

Non monog can be liberatory— disabled polycules caring for one another. QPRs! Multiparent households! But ENM/Poly is very lodged in a liberal, hyper-independent Super Good Boundaries Thank You Very Much world of its own, and so most of the “resources” like More Than 2 or Polysecure have hella flaws in that respect.

COME OFF ANON SO I CAN FOLLOW YOU! Because you just said a whole word.

I find "ethical nonmonogamy" and polyamory circles to be viscerally unpleasant and alienating to be in as a crazy, chaotic antipsych person who does not always make choices for carefully therapized, restrained reasons -- and who doesn't believe that most other people do either, no matter how much they claim to.

I don't fuck multiple people to serve some higher purpose; I do it because I'm horny, impulsive, and have a variety of niche fetishes that are really difficult to satisfy.

I didn't choose to be openly nonmonogamous because I nurtured my soul and found that it was abundant with love that I just had to give -- all my relationships already were nonmonogamous at one point or another, either because I cheated or the other person did or both, and I eventually decided to move with my feelings rather than against them, and to stop denying all that is inside me -- all of the hunger and darkness as well as the light.

And I can't say that my nonmonogamy is inherently "ethical" either -- just like my monogamy sure wasn't! I'm a human being, and a crazy one at that, I get jealous, I have emotional blowups, I lash out and fuck other people to make myself feel better or to affirm that I am desired, I make big demands of the people I date, I fail to show up for people consistently, I get hurt, and I hurt others, and I will continually have more to learn. I will also continually have wild animal emotions and triggers, and I won't always deal with them in the way my partner(s) might want me to. I try to avoid hurting other people needlessly, of course, but sometimes your own needs are incompatible with another person's, and hurt is inevitable.

When there is only so much time and attention available in our lives, it's true that somebody's often going to come up short. And ultimately the person that I choose above all others is me. And so, no, I can't say I'm always doing nonmonogamy in some caring yet dispassionate way, or that love is the solution to all problems -- I am driven by passion and need, and sometimes being alive in those ways means getting hurt, or hurting in turn.

I would echo essentially all that you've said. We need time and resources and spaces to enjoy privacy with other people, and if you're not some rich work-from-homer, that shit's all in short supply. I hate the sheen of calm positivity that "ENM" and polyamory folks tend to place on everything -- as if no choices they make are fueled ever by bitterness, dislike, resentment, or hell, fucking white hot irrational DESIRE. With how fair and measured so many of them make their polyamory sound, I don't even see what's fun about any of it.

Sometimes you want to upend your whole life because you're so down bad for a person. Sometimes you hate the shit out of your partner's partners and you say and do little manipulative shitty things to convey those feelings, or to try and blow the relationship up. Sometimes the hours just don't add up and somebody gets shafted. Sometimes you make a promise and then you can't follow through, or just don't WANT to anymore because you have changed.

These are real human realities whether we like it or not, and I find it terribly unrealistic AND unsexy to refuse to acknowledge all the darkness and frustration that comes out in any relationship. I think a lot of the ENM/poly crowd that is white and middle class and heavily therapized is so averse to naming anything edgy or prickly in themselves that they make their spaces actively hostile to anybody who openly expresses negative feelings. That means Black & brown people get tone-policed a ton, "mad" people like me get no-true-scotsmanned out of "ethical" nonmonogamy for ever doing anything messily, and all the romance and sexiness of relationships gets sanded down into a Canva-graphic beige blandness of weekly polycule meetings and processing sessions.

In this world of self-optimization, even fucking and loving other people has to be cast as therapuetic -- our desires must justify themselves by somehow making us better, more capable, more controlled people, But fuck that. Sometimes sex or love is worth exploding your whole life over. The ENM/poly crowd says their way of loving makes them more even-keeled but it seems like a kind of death to me.

[dollgxtz]

My first and only statement on all the accusations

Hello, I’m sure most of you are aware of the accusations about me and some of the stories I posted on my account. This post is not only an apology post, but an accountability post that details everything that happened from beginning to end. Everything will be here, so I will not be making more posts about this unless it’s to direct to this one.

Adding a tw now for suicide baiting, death threats and mentions of razors. So sorry but it must be included.

First I just wanted to say, no I wasn’t avoiding any of this. When this all started I was still in the middle of finals week, and I don’t live on tumblr 24/7. I had to focus on my finals to ensure I can get my degree and graduate. That was my number one priority. If anyone was blocked or comments were restricted during that time, it was my mostly my irl friend ensuring I wasn’t consumed by tumblr and could focus on my finals. I was already under a lot of stress and she offered to take over until I was finished with finals.

I was also getting death threats (people telling me to skin myself I alive and to jump). So she was ensuring that when I returned to my own blog, I would not see such triggering content. I have a history with suicide attempts and this was necessary for my mental health. The appropriate people were unblocked and remain unblocked to this day.

I always intended to make a statement, I just prioritized my real life first. It also took time to craft the post you are seeing now. I wanted it to be authentic, no misinformation, and well written.

So, as far as plagiarism goes, yes I did plagiarize specifically 3 of zombiekillerbiceps stories. I can’t actually remember the names of them and the author has removed their account from the site. But on my end specifically “Getting Closer”, “Edge of Control” and “Thrills” were not my own writing. Before they deleted their account I had already reached out via dm and apologized. We came to an understanding. I do not know why they deleted their account but they essentially said in DMs they accepted my apology and wanted to put this behind us but they were very hurt that I had copied them.

Edit: I found the post she made calling me out and will attach it.

As far as His Watchful Eye goes, the only plagiarism that took place was specifically the first chapter of it and only the first chapter. The first chapter of Something Permanent and His Watchful Eye are very similar. The remaining 13 chapters are my own writing and ideas. I have already reached out to @explorevenus and apologized. She has responded and made her own statement regarding it if you want to go and read it.

The only reason it was in anon is because this account (dollgxtz) is my side blog. I couldn’t figure out how to send a non anonymous message without exposing my main blog, so anon was the best thing. I didn’t want people sending death threats too that one too. I should’ve put my username in the anon, but it was already very late for me and I hadn’t slept in about 26 hours. I just wasn’t thinking very clearly and for that Venus I am also very sorry.

@manika-whims (the person that first wrote about all this) will remain blocked and some of her followers because I do suspect it was that group of people telling me to die. Manika wrote a very long post as she was upset that I “mischaracterized” Xavier in His Watchful Eye, called me a bitch and a loser because of a fictional man in a fictional story, and I will not entertain such immaturity. Full stop.

One of the anons that sent the suicide bait also called me a bitch and a waste of space. It was just too similar.

I also got this one. It’s too graphic to show the entirety of it.

I apologize for the plagiarism. But I will never apologize for writing characters the way I do or for writing dark content. It’s just not that serious. After she posted that I started getting these death threats and more.

You had every right to call me out for plagiarism Manika, but I stand my decision to keep you blocked. It had nothing to do with plagiarism accusations or me hiding from them, but I do believe you egged on your audience to come attack me over a fictional story and for that reason you will never be unblocked. I’ve attached screenshots below of the entire exchange. This is not to deflect from my own actions. This is simply to explain why she is blocked. She will say it’s because I was trying to hide from this but that is not true. I am just very sure the death threats came from her or her audience. This isn’t to say that she absolutely did but just in case, for my own mental health and safety I had to have them blocked.

Now that that’s discussed, I would like to address my readers and any future readers of mine. The plagiarized stories “Getting Closer” “Thrills” and “Edge of Control”. have been deleted and will remain deleted. Those of you asking for copies, please do not. They are not my writing nor my own works. Any remaining single work story on my blog is my own work and 100 percent my own ideas. My masterlist has been updated to reflect this as well.

When I first made my blog and posted those stories, I was a very insecure writer. I did not think I was truly capable of writing or making a good story. I did those things out of insecurity and not feeling good enough. But as time went on, I began to create my own stories and realize that I can write if I put my mind to it. These are not excuses, only explanations. Nothing excuses my behavior.

If you want to defend me, that is your own choice. I ask that you do not though in terms of plagiarism because I ultimately did plagiarize and that is 100 percent wrong of me to do. But in terms of AI usage accusations, these are not true. I have never and never will use AI to write.

I have spent countless hours writing chapters for His Watchful Eye, pulled all nighters, and even lost sleep making this story. I have timestamps in google docs that show me editing and writing my own story. I didn’t even know AI had advanced to the point that you can write fully blown novels. But make no mistake, Ai checkers are not reliable. I had an incident in my first year of college where a paper I wrote got flagged for 77 percent ai generated content. That paper was written 100 percent by me over countless hours and still got flagged. It was a very scary time in my life and for that reason alone I will never use AI.

If you want to unfollow me, please do so. If you want to block me, please do so. I would never hold that against anyone and am not mad at anyone for doing so. Just don’t come in my anon box telling me to jump, don’t message me rude or disgusting messages telling me to die. I am a human, I am a real person behind the screen. What I did was wrong but you are no better telling someone to kill themselves. Please just block me.

All in all thanks for reading. If you unfollow, thanks for being here. If you don’t, thanks for being here. If you want to be removed from any taglists, please just message me. You will not be blocked. Just removed from any future taglists! I have vowed to only post 100 percent of my own content from here on out, so if you stay I can promise you will only be reading my own work.

I am no longer the insecure writer that I once was, I now know my abilities and am confident enough to make my own stories. I have a 240,000 word fic out right now, I genuinely am still shocked I have done that. Writing has become a joy for me and I will not stop now. I should’ve never been afraid to make mistakes or be bad at it. I’m sorry to the people I hurt, my readers, and anyone reading this in the future. I am still growing and learning from my mistakes, and this has been the biggest lesson I will never forget.

Plagiarism is wrong and hurts authors. If you are reading this and have done so as well, please rethink your decisions and take them down, just as I have done.

I love interacting with you all, when you send me asks and messages about HWE or any of my original single fics. It is amazing getting to explain stuff or gush with you guys over the things that I have truly written. I truly love being an author and want my future as one to be honest and communicative.

The comments on this will be monitored, but not restricted. Voicing your thoughts is okay as long as they are respectful and not a direct threat to me or anyone’s life. Questions are okay as well and I will answer to the best of my ability. Please no:

insulting me or any of the people mentioned in this post (manika, venus, zombie, etc)

death threats or suicide baiting anyone

I want this to be a mature and honest discussion, and that can’t happen if I allow such comments. Despite what has been said about or to me, I do not want to replicate any insults/drama on my own blog. You can voice your displeasure or opinions without name calling.

Same goes for any messages or anon box messages you all may send to anyone involved here. We are all real people with feelings. Keep that in mind please before you message anyone.

We all make mistakes. Without mistakes, we cannot grow as people. It’s what we do after we make those mistakes that truly attest to our character. And this is what I’ve chosen to do. Lay it all out for my readers and the rest of the LADS fandom to see, apologize to the people I hurt and only write my own stories from here on out. Thank you to the readers and friends who approached me with kindness and encouraged me to keep writing authentically. And thank you all for reading, I wish all of you the best in life 🤍

-Umi ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

[physalian]

On Writing Characters with Hyper-Specific Triggers (and a PSA)

*Trigger warning for this whole post

Once upon a time, I had a roommate. Nothing looked wrong from the outside and this narcissist probably thought nothing was wrong on the inside, but there was. I knew moving in with them was a mistake, but financial circumstances demanded I shut up and try to make the most of it. Enter the longest thirteen months of aPTSD-inducing psychological stalemate I hope to never repeat again. Seven of which were on overdrive.

The why doesn’t matter. The how doesn’t matter. What matters is that this roommate was so toxic, there was no point in attempting to talk things out because any little thing could be a land mine for starting an argument and it didn’t matter what casualties got caught in the crossfire, so long as this person “won”. Casualties including our friendship. So if any little thing, anything at all, could be a land mind, what do you do if not try to completely avoid them? For seven months.

This person’s work schedule was incredibly erratic, but they were gone more hours than not, and when they were home, they were usually asleep. In those few overlapping hours where we were both awake, I could not leave my room for fear of said verbal land mines. If I wanted to cook, leave the apartment, get anything from the living room or my desk that I had to abandon, get more water from the fridge, I had to do it before they got home, or after they went to bed, and I could never predict when they’d be home.

Luckily (or unluckily), my room faced the parking lot, and this roommate drove a car that made a very specific sound. From the moment I heard that car from my room, I had about 20 seconds to shut down whatever I was doing in the apartment, retreat to my room, and lock the door. Overreacting? Potentially, I wasn’t in any physical danger, but this was seven months of near complete isolation from any other friends, and the fear of making it worse kept me silent.

So, 20 seconds from the moment I hear the telltale whine of that engine. If I couldn’t hear the car, our front door had a lock that chimes and I had about 7 seconds from the first chime to the door opening to get the fuck out of the way. I lost weight that I couldn’t afford to lose from being unable to cook past a certain time in the evening and staying locked in my room on their days off.

Seven months of only having a door chime and an engine to tell me when it was safe and when I had to run.

—

These chime locks are the new normal and one year removed from that apartment, every time I hear it and I’m already stressed, it’s a trigger.

Every time I’m on the highway and I see a dark grey sedan of that make, that is the most important car on the road until I make sure it’s not their car.

Every time I see a dark grey sedan parked in reverse, as they habitually did, that is the most important car in the parking lot until I make sure it’s not theirs.

Every time I have to drive near a certain location where they work, I am watching for that car.

I could pick it out from 200 others. I know the license plate, I know the license plate frame, I know what sticks to the windshield, I know what hangs from the rearview mirror. I would know that car rusted and crushed in an impound lot.

So. Today I drive home and I pass a rear-parked car one turn before my unit, and I think to myself, “that’s not X’s car, but I noticed it, I’m never not going to notice it.” It wasn’t the same make, model, or color, it was just a sedan with its nose sticking out and that was enough.

Then I turn the corner. And there it is. My ex-roommate’s car.

I shit you not it was like I had a warning from the Universe before it hit.

I don’t need to check the windshield, I know it’s theirs. I’ve seen it in my complex once before. The last time I did, I’d parked my own car and waited, got out, and hid between two others in the dark, waiting for this person to leave.

Today, in broad daylight, that car is empty. They happened to arrive while I was gone for 30 minutes. So I park, and I wait. I watch that car from my side mirror. I scan the sidewalk for them and I don’t see anything. I have frozens that can’t wait.

I’m thinking to myself, of all the parking spots in all the parking lots, of all the apartments in this godforsaken town, you parked right behind my spot.

Nothing happened, and even if we crossed paths, nothing probably would have happened (that’s how they worked, pretending nothing was ever wrong and that I was the crazy one). But I still waited, and when I decided to leave, I moved as fast as possible without drawing attention. One whole year removed from that person.

—

It doesn’t take physical abuse, or yelling and screaming and death threats. It doesn’t need to be a parent or a sibling, a relative, or a romantic partner. This person never touched me, never screamed (though they did yell on occasion), never actually threatened anything. They never called me names, were never direct with any of their insults, were never explicitly petty. I had no proof. Ever.

I just had example after example of every time they cut me down to feel smart, picked on me to feel better about themselves and project their own insecurities and jealousy, or used me as their emotional punching bag because of choices they made.

So a year after completely cutting them out, there’s that fucking car parked outside my apartment.

Media portrays “triggers” usually only in characters who are veterans. Noises that sound like gunshots, or thunder, fireworks, because that’s what we think of when we see PTSD—people who fought in wars.

It’s not like I sit around fixating on that car or that door chime (and actually with exposure to that chime every day with no consequences it’s gotten better), but that’s the point. They come out of nowhere when you least expect it. They don’t prepare you for their arrival, they just happen.

I didn’t have anything close to a panic attack, but nothing in the universe was more important in that moment than making sure I didn’t run into this person, until I calmed down.

Trigger attacks don’t have to be this big flashy thing, born of big flashy movements. It can be something as subdued as going quiet, staring at the thing, and your brain dumping everything else except all the potential outcomes of not escaping this situation immediately. It’s just a car. It’s not like an evil Big Dick truck with smokestacks and truck nuts and a MAGA flag on the back. It’s just a nerdy sedan that could belong to anyone.

—

So. PSA.

What you think might be an overreaction by someone you care about, they probably think is an overreaction, too. Did I want to have fate shit on my day and spend extra minutes under the hot sun when I have chores to do? No. But it happened.

What you think a trigger is supposed to look like or what the symptoms are supposed to be are not just what’s dramatic and flashy for the TV. Here I am writing a whole blog post about it instead of just moving on and I can't go back and check for typos because I don't want to have to reread it.

Do you want to die on a hill of “get over it” when someone you care about would love nothing more? Just. Be there for them.

And to writers, artists, anyone—it doesn’t have to be dramatic to be the most upsetting part of someone’s day. Including such simple things as a door chime, or the sound of an engine, really helps with visibility so people like me don’t think “I’m not allowed to feel this way, I didn’t actually suffer like a shell-shocked veteran”.

Most of us never will. That doesn’t make any of our hardships any less valid. Please be kind.

[sierrale8ne]

40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER TWELVE

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i…

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @wbbgetsmewetter @rosemariiaa @tndaqlifwy @pboogerswbb @xxloveralways14 @makethemhoesmad @slvt4her @uconnpazzi @luvapaigeeyy @hedidnotpleaseme @paigesbabygirl @mopopshop @omg-imtumbling @ch12334 @wbb4l @authentic-girl03 @slut4uconnwbb @unadulteratedcyclepaper @kplum10 @fuddfanatic35 @avvwritesstufff @paigesluver @bueckersbitch

warnings a lot of angst this time whoops 🤭

kalena speakss 🪽! so there’s like four chapters left guys woah. i’m sorry for this one and the next one because it’s lowkey just angst but you’ll live 😆

July 2025 — Los Angeles, California

“You did what?”

“Azz—”

“No you dumbass, you did what?” Nika cuts in, her voice echoing through my phone speaker as she repeats Azzi’s question.

I had just landed from our latest road trip, mindlessly trying to unpack and clean up around the apartment. Maraye was coming over and I wanted to have everything looking good by the time she showed up.

I’ve kept our conversations brief over the last couple days. Every time I hear her voice it just triggers my throat to close up and my mouth to get all dry.

But I can’t avoid her anymore. Whether I tell her about Nyla or not, she’s bound to find out. So I’m left with no other choice to tell her.

“You really want me to say it again?” I ask them, turning down the volume on my phone. Each time one of them yells it feels like my ear drum is seconds away from being ruptured.

“You had sex with Nyla? Why the hell would you do that?” Azzi yells again, confirming the fact that she heard me the first time.

Azzi is filled in on the lore more than anyone. So I know she’s irritated, she almost gave me a concussion when I told her about hooking up with her before the championship. I know if we were in the same room now she might actually render my abilities to play.

“I already told you it was an accident.”

“Oh, you accidentally fell into some pussy? Good luck explaining that to Maraye.” Nika laughs at me. I just know if I could see her face she’d be red from laughter.

“You didn’t tell her yet? Oh my—”

Azzi obvious exasperation is cut off when I hear my front door knock. My heart starts beating rapidly in my chest. I swallow the lump in my throat and reach for my phone.

“Yeah, yeah, she’s at the door so we can talk later.” I breathe, not even waiting for a response before hanging up on the group call.

My feet drag against the floor on the way to the door.

I can’t remember the last time I’ve been nervous for a girl to come over to my place. Even when she was here last week, it felt natural. Like she was supposed to be here anyway.

But now my palms are all sweaty and slipping against the silver doorknob.

I think I might stop breathing the second I see her. Raye’s always been perfect, she could be wearing a garbage bag and I’d still think that’s true. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen her in person completely barefaced, not even a little blush on her cheeks or mascara on her lashes.

Just her. No enhancers, and looking as beautiful as I’ve ever seen her.

Raye wears that one jacket that every girl in LA seems to own, the Lululemon one. I didn’t get it at first but now I totally get the hype, the navy fabric clings to her arms and waist and everything in between, making her body look otherworldly. The matching shorts, however, are too damn short. I might not be able to control myself.

“So, can I come in?” Her nose scrunches as she asks almost like she’s shy but also teasing me over my gawking.

I don’t even waste any time tugging her arm and pulling her body into mine for me to hold.

I can’t help but grin to myself at how fast she returns the gesture, her arms wrapped around my neck and mine pressed to her lower back. Raye kicks the door shut behind her, humming softly.

It feels light, the hug. Almost like thousands of pounds of weight were lifted off of both of us and now we’re just floating together.

“Someone missed me, huh.”

I let out a breathless laugh, resting my head on top of hers. She smells incredible. “So fuckin’ bad, Raye.”

Raye is pulling back from me slowly, limb by limb detaching from me with a little fight as if they were stuck.

My lip travels between my teeth, looking over her whole outfit once again. Navy looks so good on her, and I start thinking that I might have to buy her more colors of this exact set because of what it’s doing to me.

“This lil set is cute.” I compliment, tugging at the spandex material on her mid thigh.

“Yeah?” Raye asks, looking over her own body. “I was supposed to go to the gym and then you called.”

The statement brings an embarrassing smile to my face. The fact that she dropped what she was doing, changed her plans to come and see me.

I’m embarrassingly whipped over her.

“We can do sum exercise here. No worries.” I smirk. She’s quick to drop a hand from my shoulder to mush my face off to the side.

“Shut up.” Raye giggles, “you wanna get some food?”

I lick my lips as slyly as I can, which really is a lot harder than I thought. There’s something, something that makes my mind run a thousand miles a minute. Her eyes, which I swear I’ve been obsessed with since we first met. Her skin, it’s glowing, looking like glitter that covers her skin. The smell of whatever curl cream she used lingers in my nose.

“Well I needa shower first, and then I wanted to talk.” I explain. My hands trail down to the backs of her thighs, just under the curve of her ass. She lets me, not even fighting me off or telling me that all of this is wrong. It’s the most intimate I’ve ever been with her that hasn’t led to kissing her.

Which makes me want to do it even more.

“About?”

"You." I say gently pushing her back against my front door and Raye raises her eyebrows. "And me." I add on.

Her tongue slightly slips from her lips, poking at the corner in the way it does when she’s concentrating or listening or thinking. She holds the back of my neck with one hand, her acrylics grazing the hair at my nape. I shudder, finger nails subconsciously digging into her skin.

“Okay.”

—

I’m not sure what I thought Paige’s room would look like. Her apartment— large and spacious, floor to ceiling windows, lights that set the mood so well that i’m sure every girl she’s had in here was throwing themselves at her— fits her completely. But her bedroom, is almost bare.

Cream white walls and a bed in the center. Oddly enough, there’s no purple decorating it like I assumed. Her duvet is a tan color, pillows that match, and a white throw blanket that is a nice addition to it.

The mattress nearly sucks me in when I lay back on her bed. Her phone in my hand as I order us some Chinese as per her request.

I can’t help but let my eyes wander. The room is clean. So clean, not a single book or pencil or sock out of place.

A bible sits on her beside table, along with a journal and some pens.

Then the more I look around the more the room becomes Paige. The bible is her, the picture on her full length mirror of her and her siblings, the framed piece of nylon she cut down from the net in April, the affirmations on sticky notes above her dresser. It’s all Paige. Everything that I know makes her the annoyingly smart, beautiful, and sweet blonde that I know her to be.

And she gets to be mine. As soon as I tell her that Julian isn’t my boyfriend anymore, things get to be the way they should be. I get to feel good around her rather than guilty.

Even if I do. If I do feel guilty for enjoying myself around her, I’d live with it. Because it’s Paige, and no matter what she always finds a way to get my mind off of everything.

My ears perk up the second I hear the shower turn off and I swing my feet off the side of the bed, almost in excitement of seeing her face again.

Her phone buzzes avidly on the blanket, just slightly muffled but I still hear it. I reach for it immediately, thinking that It’s our DoorDasher confirming our order. I type in the password she told me, clicking on the message notification.

lmk when you get bored of that LA girl again

i’ll be right here like i always am 😂

When you’re like me, and have been in your fair share of shitty relationships, you sort of become numb to it all. The lying, the hurt, the yelling.

I deal with it through music. Spending hours in the studio or in my room writing. It works. It helps me remember that the Earth will keep spinning.

But for a second, it does feel like the world has stopped. Like the planet, that spins a thousand miles an hour, has come to a complete halt and everything is just crashing around on me.

I have to stop looking, protect what’s left of that goodness in my heart and not keep fucking reading. But my thumb moves anyway. I read this girl’s text to Paige from last Sunday. The day after I stood in her arms and told her I’d make a decision. The night after she told me she’d wait for it.

A texts that reads: “had fun ;)”

That fucking wink. It makes me seethe. I swear it’s meant for me, just to rub it all in my face. My heart thumps so loud, and I feel like I’m underwater just drowning.

Within seconds I’m scrolling through what seems like years of texts messages, years of pictures and intimate texts that make me nauseous.

This has to be what karma feels like. I did it to Julian, right? I kissed and touched on someone else while making a promise to him. And now it’s all getting thrown back at me.

Paige took everything I gave to her, and went and gave it to someone else.

Her bathroom door glides open, a cast of steam coming into the room and she follows. “Are you sure y’on’t want anything more comfy to wear? Y’look sexy, but I can—”

Paige stops when she sees I’m not looking at her but rather that my eyes are trained to her phone.

“Ma, you aight?”

“Let me know when you get bored of that LA girl again, I’ll be right here like I always am. Paige, do you take me for a joke?” I ask her, rereading the text out loud to her before finally looking up.

I can’t let her see my tears, the ones that build and poole at my waterline, but Goddamnit they sting. Everything does. My throat feels small, the lump in my throat huge in contrast. And I want to cry. Like all this, all the confusion and the trust and the happiness she made me feel was all for nothing.

I see all the color drain from her face in an instant. Her shoulders dropping.

Paige only has on a sports bra and some sweatpants, the white towel around her neck picks up all the water that drips from that perfect blonde hair, and I’m so mad at myself for thinking about how irresistible she looks.

It’s entirely too reminiscent of the first time we met, when she was all flushed as sweaty and standing there looking like everything I’ve ever wanted.

Now I look at her and just feel like a boulder is crushing my chest.

“Raye.” She starts, stalking over to me and I stand up, feeling like that’s the best thing I can do to stop her from touching me. “Baby, just listen.”

“Me? Listen? To what. Listen to you lie to me about how you just want me? Because you obviously don’t.” I shake my head at her. “It took you 24 hours, Paige. 24 hours and you were fucking some other girl.”

“I—” She starts, sighing and tossing the towel in her hand on the bed. “I thought you chose him and I got drunk.” She babbles. Each step she takes towards me sets me off just a little more, and I feel suffocated.

“I didn’t! God!”

“What?”

“I didn’t fucking choose him, Paige. We broke up, I ended it. But instead of communicating with me when I called you, you went all silent on me.”

My voice cracks as I feel my composure slipping. It’s unbelievable, the entirety of it all.

“But now it all makes sense. You were with her.” I laugh, except it’s not funny. I think it’s the only thing I can do to stop me from lashing out at her, screaming and crying and fighting her in a way that makes me look like the bad guy.

Paige’s eyes flicker. And I know her. The confident and slightly cocky blonde girl that would double down on anything. She’s stubborn, more than me, so when I see it; the slight hint of guilt in those crystalline blue eyes, I know she’s not going to say anything I want her to.

“Wait a minute, you don’t get to be mad at me over this.” She shoots. The words hit my heart violently, sharp, like a knife. “You were with him. The whole time, who I was with is not something you get to be mad over.”

“You knew, Paige! You knew I was with Julian. And I fuckin’ told you over and over that this had to stop. Don’t turn it back on me when it’s what you wanted.” I defend, my voice cracking under her gaze.

She’s nearly unrecognizable. This isn’t Paige. Or at least the Paige I knew and fell for, because I thought she would never do something like this to me, yet she did.

Paige takes a step back from me, running her fingers through her wet hair.

“You don’t have the right to tell me what I can and can’t be mad about. I trusted you.”

“Julian trusted you.” She says, bitter and harsh. “But that didn’t stop you from kissin’ me and tellin’ me you have feelings for me, right?”

“That’s not the same—”

“It’s exactly the same, Maraye!” She yells. “But I’m tellin’ you the truth. I’m tellin’ you straight what happened, and you ain’t even do that for him.”

Maybe it’s the way she says it all like it certain. Like she knows me so well that she assumed I didn’t tell Julian anything. Or even the way her voice is so animalistic, full of emotion that I’ve never heard from her. But I lose it. All that is left of my composure, if you could even call it that, goes down the drain and I’m breaking down.

The tears in my eyes finally slip, making my lashes stick together. They’re hot, burning my cheeks.

I hate that I’m letting her see me cry, hate that she gets to see me this emotional. She doesn’t deserve to see me cry. Paige doesn’t deserve to know that she hurt me this bad.

At the same time, I want her to see it. To understand how fucking stupid her actions were. That what she did hurt me to my core, because I don’t even cry in front of people like this. But I am for her. I’m crying, and the tears don’t fucking stop falling.

“You think you know me! You don’t know me, Paige.” My eyes narrow and my arms fall to my sides. “I told him everything. I told him that you made me feel different, so much better than he ever could. A-and I told him I was sorry. I fuckin’ apologized for having feelings for you. I owned up to it, and I messed up so many times but you, God, Paige, you made it all worth it.”

When I look at Paige she isn’t even looking at my eyes. She always does, but now she looks at the ceiling, frustratingly running her hand over her chin.

“And you didn’t. You didn’t tell me the truth, I found out myself like an idiot.” I scream until my voice is raw. Her phone in my hand feels like hot coal, burning my hand and then burning a hole in her sheets when I throw it there. “Fell for you like an idiot.” I murmur under my breath.

“Hol’ on, Angel. C’mon.” Paige says. It’s soft, the quietest her voice has been all night. Of course Paige hears me. She steps to me again, reaching for my hand that I pull back with haste.

“You don’t get to call me that.”

“I made a mistake. A huge fucking mistake, but that doesn’t mean we can’t work this shit out.” Paige reaches for me again, I throw my hands away from her, hitting my hand on her bedside table and breaking a nail in the process.

“Fuck.” I groan, shaking my hand off and turning away from her. “Move!” I yell, stepping to the side so she isn’t that damn close to me.

“Raye—”

“I don’t trust you.” I breathe, shrugging my shoulders at her and trying to wipe the tears that stain my cheeks. “It’s not about working this out. You broke my trust and y’can’t even apologize for it.”

“Jus’ listen. Please.” I hear her voice crack, that guilt I could pick up on when she first came out of the bathroom so evident in the way she looks at me.

Paige’s blue eyes are rimmed with red, I nearly scoff. She doesn’t get to cry. She did this, she went to her, confided in her instead of talking to me. I shake my head in an attempt to wrap my head around all of this.

“I’m sorry.” And I thought that hearing it would make it all better but my chest just burns. I’m honestly running out of patience because this isn’t working. I’ve made up my mind, she’s done something so fucking unforgivable and it’s sad. I never would’ve imagined it from Paige.

“Really, baby. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I can’t do this.” I blurt like word vomit. “I just can’t. Ion even wanna look at you right now, Paige.”

“Maraye.”

“I’m gonna go.” I say under my breath, nodding as if that’s what I’ve decided to do. I reach for my phone on the dresser, trying to ignore the pulsing feeling in my broken fingernail. The room suddenly feels so small, suffocating. Filled with hot air and lingering insults.

Paige looks at me incredulously. Almost shocked that I was willing to leave it at this, that I didn’t want to hear her out. “I-that’s it? We’re not gonna talk? You just gonna leave like none of this shit matters.” Her voice is low, throat almost scratched raw.

“I don’t know what to say to you that’s not gonna make this worse.” I explain.

“I can fix it, Raye. Please.”

It’s so hard. Hard to not fall victim to everything that she is and give her what she wants.

Believe it or not, I want to, I want to hear her out and have her tell me just how much she regrets it all.

But every time I look at her, I keep thinking about that girl. That girl who had Paige first, seemingly long before I did. Who had her hands in Paige’s hair the same way I do when she’s laying on my couch with her head on my shoulder.

That girl who got to feel Paige’s lips. Soft and plump with that enticing color of pink. The same lips that told me she felt something for me, told me that she’d give me time. The lips that made me feel like I was the only person in the world to her.

Don’t even start on the image of the two of them— a girl who’s probably prettier than I am or funnier or impossibly more into her than I am, and my perfect blue eyed Paige— being together in a way that we haven’t. Kissing and touching and moaning together.

Being together.

It’s nauseating.

So I just turn around, dragging myself to her hallway and to her front door. I can hear her soft footsteps following after me fast. I sniffle as I slip my shoes on, hoping that if I leave just fast enough I can hang on to the words she said to me before she slept with someone else. The words that let me know that it was just us.

Maybe those are enough to get me to forgive her, eventually.

But right now. I can’t.

So I leave. The door slamming shut behind me, and more tears falling before I even get a chance to stop them.

[revelboo]

This isn’t an anonymous ask you need to respond to or anything: I just really wanted to say that your Armada Starscream fic is wonderful, and I’m enjoying reading it. It touched base on some things I grew up with, and I remember always imagining Starscream or any of my other favorites swooping down to save me as a teen/young adult. Thank you for writing it, my inner teen/young adult self is jumping for joy at it so far! You have amazing writing, and every story I’ve read has been great. So great that I find myself thinking about your stories often and wondering what you’ll write next.

I hope you have a great day and great week; and a wonderful holiday season (if you celebrate any!)

I try not to get into too much detail on readers with bad pasts so my writing isn’t triggering if I can help it, but I try to design readers that need something the mech can offer and that might heal them in return by giving it if that makes sense

Even If It Kills Me Pt 6

Armada Starscream x Reader

• You’re crooning to Sonar, the mini-con’s head against you. Still treating them like sparklings, despite telling you that they’re not. A human thing? Maybe just needing to take care of someone else regardless of whether they need it, but he doesn’t bother correcting you again. Not when the mini-cons seem enamored with the attention and though he’ll never admit it, there is something soothing about listening to your little voice. And it makes you smile, for some reason seeing that spreads warm through him. The bruises on your skin are slowly fading to a sickly yellow, but he knows there will still be scars on the inside that won’t ever fade away. That you can smile at all, instead of being bitter is something he can’t understand as he watches you walk your fingertips over Sonar’s arm to make the mini-con chirp.

• You don’t need to look to know he’s frowning down at you again. Not when you can feel the weight of his stare. Slowly learning that these sweet little guys are actually a weapon he wields and you can’t help but be uncomfortable with that idea. But from what you understand, they’re at war and have been for a very long time. Starscream volunteers so little, speaks rarely. Though you suspect it’s more from being used to his opinion not mattering or being dismissed outright and that’s something you can understand. Part of you wanting to let go of the past, but unable to get over the fear that this is something that will just be taken from you eventually. That you’re not allowed this. To be happy. “When you get tired of me,” you begin, avoiding looking up at the much bigger mech. “Can you carry me somewhere far from where you found me?” Anywhere but back there. So far away he’ll never find you and drag you back.

• Little head down so your hair falls forward to hide your features, his servos still on his datapad. Because the defeated way you say that reminds him of when he’d found you. Decided to take you with him because you were him, trapped and slowly being broken. You’d seen him, assumed the worst, and had just accepted it, because you’d learned to expect pain. Might even think you deserve it and that spills like an inky wave through his processor, strangling his spark. Bending to reach for you, hearing your little noise of surprise and Sonar’s chirp of protest as his servos curl around your little frame and he lifts you.

• What’s he thinking? Did you make him mad? Hands on his big servos, you tense waiting for him to lash out. Breath shuddering out of you when he leans back and cradles you against his chassis. Feeling his warmth and the faint thrum of him under you. The tip of a servo sliding so very gently over your head and then you’re trembling. Because anger, yelling you can deal with, but this achingly cautious touch? You don’t know how to deal with this, because it’s been so long since someone just held you like this, wanting nothing in return. And you don’t know if you can trust it, even as you lean into him and sink your teeth into the side of your fist to keep from crying. Needing pain to keep you from coming apart. “I’m not good at this. I don’t know how to comfort others,” he murmurs, venting to stir your hair.

• Can feel you trembling against his servos as he tips his head back against his chair. Feels the wetness on his servos and knows you’re leaking again, those eyes welling like he’s seen you do sometimes when you should be resting. And he doesn’t know how to help you when he’s as broken as you are. There’s not enough of him left to fix, but maybe he can piece you back together. Maybe he wasn’t too late for you, even though he’s certain it is for him. Venting roughly, he keeps running his servos along your spine, feeling how insubstantial you are in his grip. Not knowing if his touch soothes or just frightens you.

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[snifferish]

Never in my life did I think that re-tweeting resources for SA, and supporting victims would be considered problematic or performative.

I should not have to bare this, but I'm going to tell just one of my stories, because I need you to understand where I'm coming from. TW // Sexual Harassment

--

When I was 15, I had my wisdom teeth removed. I wanted to avoid using the pain medication they prescribed. I struggle a lot with sensory issues, medications and substances made it worse.

However, my surgery was for impacted teeth, and only two days in one of my stitches fell out. I was in so much pain, and couldn't eat solids w/ out pain for up to three weeks.

So, a week into my recovery, one of my friends invites me to their house. They were having our friend group over, it was just a little bonfire get together kinda thing. I took my pain meds a few hours prior, and only half a dose, but I was out of it to some degree, and somehow still in pain.

I was sitting on a lawn chair outside, when one of my close friends came over and asked to sit on my lap. Honestly, I said yes at first, because this was my childhood friend, someone I trusted, and I thought our relationship was incredibly platonic. Then he started to shift/grind about in my lap, and I started to feel things of theirs I did not want to. They made a noise that deeply unsettled me, and I told him to get off, they didn't. It was only when I told them that he accidently triggered the emergency call shortcut on my phone (it was in the pocket of the lawn chair, yes they were moving that much and I was moving trying to push him off) that he finally got up.

I was bewildered, and a bit confused, and also embarrassed that my phone nearly called 911. I claimed I wasn't feeling well, and went home early.

That was the first time someone touched me in a remotely sexual way, but I didn't dare to label it until I talked to my therapist. It made me dwell on a lot of experiences with this person as well. How obsessed they were with being taller than me, how often they'd grab me and force me to see if they were stronger than me. At the time, I was in a friend group of predominately non-men, and they were all friends with this person.

However, when I told them about this, when I expressed the discomfort it brought me. I was brushed off. "He's just like that!" oh "He probably didn't mean it" etc.

I didn't feel comfortable in the same room as this person. My friends would continue to invite them to hang outs. One of my other friends told everyone about what happened without my permission. I started having breakdowns in my classes with him. I had panic attacks all the time. I felt as if I had to continue this façade of being nice to him, or else I would lose my friends of years and years.

I was happy when covid started, because for the first time I had breathing room, but by then so much of my trust was dismantled.

Due to my friends association with this person, and the fact that not being their friend excluded me. I eventually got over it, and told myself I'd grown past it.

Three months ago, this same person admitted to me they hold extreme grudges against me, that they projected their "mommy issues" on to me, and quite literally said the words, "Yeah yeah, you're a woman who's outspoken and challenged me and that bothers me yeah yeah." in regards to that. They said it with sarcasm, like it was something they knew, and their mother was reminding them for the 12th time.

--

I bring this all up, not to make you feel guilty, but to discuss the harm of not supporting victims, not listening to them. It puts them in a position of isolation, and in a position to potentially be hurt again.

So yeah, I'm gonna be a little upset when people say I'm being "performative" about supporting victims of sexual harassment and SA. I'm not doing this because it benefits me, in fact it's caused a lot of backlash, horrible dms, and very triggering memories.

I'm doing it because I was once not heard, and i've sat with Caiti behind the scenes for months watching her lose passion for something she loved (content creation).

I didn't do this because I'm secretly sniveling behind the scenes tapping my fingers praying on peoples downfall. I'm not a Disney villain dude lmfao.

Honestly, this narrative that is being pushed, that people are doing it "because it benefits them" is quite ironic, considering most of the people talked about within the last 72 hours were under Wilbur's weird ass apology doing just that.

I hate it, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. I hate how people are okay with this narrative, the misogynist undertones of it. I've seen people admit that they didn't like me or my friends the entire time, while simultaneously "calling us out" about this, so I ask you,

Are you calling us? Because it benefits your motives? Your feelings?

[travelingmaster-inspirations]

Escape Rooms

I couldn't believe something like this could even exist, but it did!

An escape room targeting Hypno-Kinksters...

Like the brochure said, the goal wasn't to solve puzzles, but to solve your own mind by allowing the room to place you in a trance so it could implant the code you needed to gain access to the next room.

The catch was that the trance wouldn't implant one code, but 2.

Each code word would allow you access to a different room. In one, you would find yourself facing the same levels of trance as the room you were currently in while the other would give you access to a room in which you are made to drop deeper. Making each code word blend together so you can't be sure which will allow you a safer path.

For anyone that isn't a total trance addict, the escape rooms remain relatively easy to solve and all you have to do is pay close attention during your trance and you'll know which code will grant ou access to the safest rooms until you reach the exit.

However...

For hypno-subs like me, the challenge grows ever more difficult because usually, we tend to drop faster and deeper than others. So... Right off the bat, we are facing deeper trances while also battling our own desires to see what the deeper trances are like on the 'un-safe' path.

And... if that wasn't enough...

When you sign up, they ask you a very tempting question in which you have to describe a simple trigger or suggestion you are willing to let them implant inside your mind should you end the 'escape' in the wrong door. It can be something simple like freeze trigger, but the sky is the limit so you can write down anything.

Of course, the organizers know that for hypno-addicts like me, the temptation is way to great to simply fail again and again so I can be implanted with such a trigger. So... They also tell you to write down something you are willing to let them implant inside your mind should you escape the room in the 'safe' door.

Naturally, the objective is to write down something you are VERY willing to have implanted in your mind on the safe path while writing down something a little more... Punitive... On the un-safe path.

My own goal when I walked into the first room was to try to avoid the un-safe path even though I knew that deep down, the kinky parts of myself longed to experience the subjugation I described for them. That being said, I didn't plan to fully resist the trances I was about to subject myself to because I couldn't pass up the chance to experience whatever trances were on the un-safe path. So... I planned to try them out in the first few rooms before then fighting my way back on the safe path.

The challenge for me was to know when to resist...

As I focused on the first spiral, I knew it wasn't wise to come into this challenge with that mindset, but the moment I felt myself sink into the slow spinning screen in front of me, I knew that it didn't really matter which door I ended up coming out of, all I cared about was the hypnotic journey that would bring me there...