#i am resigned to it cause like. i've been like this my whole life and i can't exactly do anything about it

[supercantaloupe]

i don’t hate myself in the sense that i think my body is broken or unhealthy or anything like that but it does disappoint me incredibly to know that i’m always going to be big and lumpy and unattractive no matter what

[dirtytomatoedwrites]

THE RESIGNATION

Summary: You can quit. It doesn't mean Rafe will let you.

Paring: CEO!Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

Strictly 18+ No Minors to Interact

Warnings:  18+ Smut. Oral (w receiving) Masturbation (w), Rough Sex, PIV, Creampie, Fluff, Romance with a dash of Angst. AgedUp!Rafe. Not Proof-Read. Enjoy.

Word Count: 2k words

Author's Note: Something a little shorter, lighter and sweet. Happy reading and much love to you all ❤️

Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Please don’t steal or copy bits of my writing or any writing from other writers cause karma will get ya.

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*Buzzzzzzzzz*

“Yes.”

“Y/N is here to see you.”

“Send her in.”

Rafe watches in fascination as you shuffle in, your face taut and serious. Your eyes cast downward, clutching a file. As you tuck an unruly strand of hair behind your ear, he realizes you're nervous. The tension, his silence, makes you even more anxious.

“Sit,” he instructs, motioning to the chair across his desk. Meanwhile, he keeps his gaze on his papers. He continues to read and leisurely sign forms. Yet, he can distinctly feel your eyes on him, both of you fully aware of the meeting's purpose.

For Rafe, the dynamics at play are exhilarating. After finishing his tasks, he lifts his eyes to find you focused on your file, seemingly avoiding his gaze.

He unbuttons his suit jacket and leans back, his fingers drum lightly on the fine-crafted letter in front of him. The paper carries a soft hint of perfume. It smells like you.

There's a part of him that wishes to be cruel, to use biting words he's often used with others in his employ. Yet something about you prevents him. The game of power was always in his favor, but with you, the boundaries become ambiguous, shifting in unexpected ways. With you, it's always been personal.

“Why didn't you tell me you were unhappy?” he asks. His tone is calm, yet probing. You seem taken aback, eyes widening as they search his face.

He decides to try another approach. “It's clear to me now,” he points to your letter of resignation. “You were unhappy at Cameron Enterprises. How long have you felt this way?”

Your surprise is palpable, and he watches you closely, enjoying the tapestry of emotions that flash across your face, each one more captivating than the last.

“Well?” he prods.

You shift, straightening your back. “I am grateful for my time at Cameron Enterprises. Truly I am. The team has been so kind to me, and I'll honestly cherish the friends I've made—”

“But?” he asks, cutting you off, eager to understand.

“But, I believe it's time for me to pursue other opportunities,” you admit, measuring your words. You slowly nod your head, as though you have thought this whole thing out, and now you are not only resolved with the thought but you truly believe it. It’s this sureness, this resolution, that truly makes Rafe react.

“I see,” Rafe says as he presses a button, making the office walls turn opaque. "So, you think you've outgrown us."

“No—”

"No?" he interrupts, rising from behind his desk and walking slowly toward you.

"No. I just- I feel it's time for me to try something... new.”

"Something new," he repeats, his gaze lowers to meet yours while you look up at him. His eyes scrutinize you carefully. “I respect that,” he nods, and as you avert your gaze, he gently hooks your chin with his fingers, prompting you to look him in the eye.

“No, really. I do. What's the point of life if not to grow, right? But let me be crystal clear: leaving here is not an option. So, here's what I'm willing to offer," his voice is as smooth as honey as his thumb strokes your jaw. "First, a five percent raise. But seeing as you’re already on one of the highest salaries here, I suspect that won't really sway you. You’ll also be given a new title.”

"Raf—"

"And to sweeten the deal," Rafe interrupts, "a vacation to any destination you want. You'll be whisked away on the company jet, stay at a five-star, luxury hotel—every need pampered and taken care of. I'll see to that, and we'll get to that, but here's the thing—" he whispers, his voice low and seductive.

"You embarrassed me today—ah, ah, I'm talking," he asserts, his eyes commanding yours into silence. "If it were anyone else, anyone else, no one would have noticed or given a flying fuck. But since it’s you, your little resignation created a lot of gossip. It made us look weak, hinted at instability, and in a Fortune 500 company, that's not going to work. Do you think the board cares about your need to ‘try something new'? Hm," his gaze is drawn to your mouth as you clamp it shut.

"So for those reasons, I'm going to punish you,”he says, while his thumb gently taps your chin. "But how to punish you...” he muses. “That’s the real question.”

Pulling away, he slides his hands into his pockets and, after taking a few steps back, leans against his desk.

"Rafe, you know I was just— I mean I wasn’t trying to—”

"Spare me, all right? I'm not interested in hearing what you have to say. Not right now. What I want..." he said slowly as he tapped a finger to his chest "What I want, is for you to open your legs, yeah? That's what I want."

You're shocked — he gathers as much from the way you gulp, and Rafe can't help but let a smirk of self-satisfaction curl his lips.

"Don't look so surprised. You knew what working for me entailed when you agreed to it. Now, spread your legs. Let me see what I'm shelling out nearly half a mil for."

"Rafe, I… I" you murmur.

Crossing his arms, his gaze locks onto yours signalling the end of the discussion. Hesitantly, and with much caution, you eventually slide your legs apart, your skirt riding up ever so slightly.

"Wider," Rafe commands, "Lean back and open them wider."

Breathing heavily, you do as he asks. Leaning back against the chair, you spread your legs open fully, causing your skirt to ride up to your waist, revealing your panty-covered sex. The damp patch, dark against the bright red fabric teases him.

"Pull your panties to the side. Let me see how wet you are.” he whispers silkily.

You turn your head away shyly but eventually you hook a finger into the fabric and pull it aside, exposing your slick wet folds to his ravenous gaze.

Rafe smiles in approval.

"That's good." he purrs, "Now, touch yourself. That pussy looks like it needs a good fingering " his voice rumbles with authority as his gaze flickers from your face to your exposed weeping slit. You hesitate, breathing heavily while trying to form a protest.

"I… I'm not—"

"Do it," he interrupts firmly.

You hesitate for a few moments, but eventually obey by pushing a finger into your dripping sex. A moan escapes your lips when Rafe lets out a deep groan as encouragement. Your hesitation seems to disappear and you push another finger in.

"Fuck," he hisses. "Add another. I know you can handle it."

You nod slowly and introduce a third, while the middle finger of your other hand gently rub your clit. Sinking into the sensation you open your legs wider for more access, your fingers moving hard and fast.

Rafe groans in protest. “Go slow...This isn’t for you. It’s about what I want, and what I want is for you to tease yourself. You're not allowed to cum. Not yet. Not until I say.”

You whimper but follow his command. You slow your speed til it's teasing almost leisurely and Rafe soaks it all in. The jolts of pleasure that have you mewling, the way your chest rises and fall, breathless, desperate. The way you curl your fingers just enough to make you gasp. It's incredible to watch and as your hips begin to buck against your massaging fingers, Rafe finds himself looming over you, taking in the sight of your ecstasy-filled face and finger-stuffed pussy.

He leans in and kisses you. His tongue lashes yours, tasting your moans and desperation. He pulls away, eyes back on your wet centre, focused on your fingers moving in and out, accompanied by the sweet wet sounds it makes and your hips rising from the chair.

"Go on, make that pussy cum." he orders. In no time, your orgasm washes over you. He can see it build from your core as you shudder and your thighs shake, your breath hitches fighting to stave it off and then it radiates out from the depths of your soul in a moan of pure ecstasy.

Before you can catch your breath, Rafe pushes your hand away and laps at your essence with his tongue. His hands on the back of your knees, push your legs right to your chest, keeping it wide open as he tongue fucks you.

Eating you out was always an appetizer he savored, making sure you had cum at least twice from his efforts, but right now, with his blood boiling with anger and frustration, he's famished and desperate for the main course.

Urgently, he undoes his slacks and lifts your legs even higher, pinning your ankles above your head with one hand. Without giving you time to adjust, he smears his cock with your slick and plunges deep into your tight heat, pressing you into the chair with his body weight as he begins to pound you.

It's a painful position, and he's acutely aware of that. It's deep and aggressively forceful, the type of position that should be approached with care, or ease you gently into it. But right now, it's not about you. Right now he's too riled up to care and so he fucks you without remorse or restraint, reducing you to nothing more than a fuck toy- his fuck toy spurred on by the delicious moans that escape your parted lips.

Your hands cling to the armrests for dear life as you desperately try to maintain your balance. Rafe continues to slam his hips against the back of your thighs, taking pleasure in your inability to move while he plows you deep. You whimper, desperate to escape his grip, but it does nothing to deter him. Instead, he revels in your struggle, knowing that your lack of control will only intensify his orgasm and your own.

"You want to quit..." Rafe sneers. He watches you whimper and feels your pussy tighten like a vice, while simultaneously soaking the front of his slacks. It makes him feral and he redoubles his efforts, fucking you into the chair until it starts to scrape against the cherry-oak floor.

"You want to quit on me?" he strains, while he observes ecstasy wash over your face, your eyes roll back in a pleasure-filled awe. With one hand, he gently taps your cheek to keep you focused.

"You wanna quit on me? Huh?” And he leans in further, his cock repeatedly hits a spot so deep you’re shaking, babbling and barely coherent.

“You're not going anywhere. Not now, not ever," he grunts, "Now fucking cum. Fucking cum.” His ruthless demand pushes you higher until all inhibitions are obliterated. You scream out in surrender, bucking up onto his plundering cock while Rafe releases a guttural moan, filling you with ribbon after ribbon of thick cum.

Several minutes have passed when his movements gradually stops, signaling the ebbing of his energy. He's exhausted, his fervor having reached its climatic end. He pulls out, his balance wavering slightly until his back meets the glass desk behind him. A contented exhale escapes his lips as he takes in the sight of you.

There you are, looking thoroughly fucked out. Your legs are splayed open, a sheen of sweat glistens on your skin, reflecting the aftermath of passion. His cum slowly leaks out of you and you wear it like a carnal badge of honor. Observing your state, he’s acutely aware that his own appearance mirrors yours—fucked out and messy. His clothes is in disarray, his cock is hanging out and physical exhaustion makes his body seek support against the table.

Despite the disheveled scene, a wave of affection swells within him, washing over any remnants of his earlier anger. His chest heaves as he gulps in air, attempting to control his breathing.

"You're lucky I love you," he manages to say, each word punctuated by his effort to recover. His gaze locks onto yours, intense yet softened by the rush of emotions. "No one else has this infuriating, intoxicating effect on me. You drive me to the brink and back," he adds, a playful seriousness lacing his tone as he licks his lips. "For that little stunt, I should fire you," he teases.

Your fingers glide through the cum dripping from your sex, and Rafe can't suppress a sense of pride. He always takes pride in the chaos he creates, especially when you revel in it.

"I've been trying to talk to you, but you've been so distracted lately, you haven't been listening" you sigh, as you try to catch your breath. "What else was I supposed to do to get your attention? Hand me some tissues, will you?"

He pauses, his eyes narrowing as he digests your words, then reaches with a trembling hand for the tissue box on his desk. "When? When did you try to talk to me and I wasn't listening?" he asks. He takes a clump of tissues and hands them to you.

"This morning at breakfast, and last night during dinner. I barely started speaking before you turned the conversation back to contractors and deadlines and even when I gave you a solution, not just one Rafe but two- two concrete solutions you ignored me. It was like I wasn't even there. It's not the first time." you explain, accepting the tissues from him.

"I didn't realize—"

"You did," you interrupt, ensuring your eyes stay fixed on his to underline your statement. "Why do you think I kept singing the song about wanting to make some changes, wanting to try something new. I've been saying it for weeks on and off because this is clearly not working."

“I thought you were talking about remodeling the offices, not resigning from the company. It's a family business—how would it look if my wife quits?" His voice carries a hint of concern, not just for the optics but for the unspoken bond that this business represents between the two of you.

A soft sigh escapes you as you lock eyes with him, a delicate blend of frustration and affection. "Rafe, I don't want to walk away from this," you admit "But I need more than just a title and a desk. I need to feel heard, to be part of this with you, not just in name because I'm married to a Cameron. I want to be a part of the decisions and changes we dare to dream up together."

Rafe's eyes hold yours, a moment of realization dawning upon him. "I see you," he says quietly, the weight of his oversight apparent in his tone. "I'm sorry I wasn't listening. Do you really want to leave? Is that what you truly want?"

His question, earnest and laced with vulnerability, hangs between you, but you shake your head gently. "No, I don't want to leave, Rafe. I just want... more. More involvement, more acknowledgment, and yes, maybe even a little more attention. But leaving? No. This place, with all its madness, is where I belong."

He exhales, the relief evident in the way his shoulders drop slightly, the rigid line of worry softening around his eyes. "Thank fuck for that," he says with a hushed intensity. "Because I can't imagine doing any of this without you. But let's agree on no more 'resignation stunts' in the future, yeah? It's bad press and only makes for bad business—besides, I doubt my heart can take it."

You nod, agreeing, a mischievous glint in your eye as if to say you’ll find another effective way to get right under his skin, because in the end you always do. “Fine. But for the record, I do have some ideas for my office too."

He laughed, the sound rich and warm, and he pulled you into a messy, loving kiss. "We'll discuss it at home, Mrs. Cameron. For now, let's get you cleaned up, yeah?"

"Speak for yourself. You're the one with your dick hanging out."

With a shared laugh and a sweaty kiss, you both begin the task of putting the office—and yourselves—back together, the line between professional and personal wonderfully blurred.

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A/N - See guys I can do sweet 😈 I tried to keep the reveal until the end shhhh 🤭 Thanks for reading x If you enjoyed it please reblog as it supports writers. Until next time ❤️

[missmarveledsblog]

A kind of sex education part 2 (platonic cas x winchesters x reader)

Summary : after the whole porn ordeal , castiel finds tumblr and the world of fanfiction has him asking more curious questions  which the residents of the bunker are not so happy to answer . 

warnings : mentions of smutty fics , cas being the curious baby in a trench coat we love .

After the whole angel porn ordeal , they were more careful with what cas was watching not wanting  history to repeat itself . Like monitoring a toddler on an iPad. Especially given that y/n wouldn't come out of her room for days not wanting to look any of them bar sam in the eyes .  Dean even limited his teasing when it came to the subject . Today he was luckily out while cas was on laptop , Sam and Y/N were looking over some incoming cases seeing which needed to be handled first .

" interesting this is very interesting " the angel spoke making them look over both slightly relieved not see or hear an explicit image on the laptop. 

" I've been on a interesting site that led me to many other over the last couple of days " he  spoke up .

" what was that buddy" she smiled over. Their joy short lived when he uttered the next few sentences out of his mouth .

" tumblr that led me to all these other sites , did you know there is fanfiction of us like the play we seen except it's classed as what they call smut " he looked up at the two .

" why didn't  I go on the supply run ,  why am I here when he finds this shit " she cursed up at the ceiling .

" could be nothing " sam offered a weak smile .

" did you know most popular is Dean x y/n fiction seems as though you are most shipped although there are some of Dean and sam with you too " he mused .

" but I could be wrong" sam winced taking the laptop off of cas completely .

" how do you find these things " he asked looking through the tabs .

" I'm very pop culture savvy now " cas said proudly . 

" what the hell man why are you reading all these " sam groaned wanting burning his eyes out seeing an explicitly  wrong image of Dean and himself (no to wincest) .  " you are actually popular with them Y/n " sam mused .

" that's after  that stupid ghost hunting  website and chuck " she grumbled  wondering where she was going to start her new life.

" hey there's even some with you and cas " he chuckled. 

" Alaska or maybe Australia would be better it further Away " she mused .

" wow these are extremely detailed " sam continued .

" would you call Dean daddy , the stories seem to think you would " cas asked .

" what the hell did I walk into " the man in question walked into the room .

" my resignation  " she mumbled hiding her head in her arms. 

" destiel  is another popular one " sam chuckled. 

" cas found smutty fanfictions " she looked up to see the clueless expression on Dean's face.

" they suggest that Y/n is a sub and you are a Dom " the angel stated.

" wanna see if they're right sweetheart " Dean winked .

" wanna kill me cause I can't be dealing with this" she countered wondering if she could also legally change her name.

" why are they so descriptive on the parts , have they seen them" cas sat looking between the three .

" the way Dean sleeps around they probably seen his " she reasoned.

" they also suggest you like..." .

" do not even finish that one" she growled .

"so many kinks cas did you google all these" sam asked eyes widening at the search history. 

" i was looking at chucks book and comments said to check out the tumblr versions " he said looking confused to what he did wrong. " they forgot to add that birthmark just below your tits " he added matter of factly .

" when did you see her ... what he got to see i didn't" dean turned to Y/n , who honestly rather be stuck with Crowley for eternity than this .

" he walked in while i was getting dressed and it not a birthmark it's a scar from a battle with an old favourite bra "she could feel her cheeks redder than they've been so far . "i'm going to my room to pack for my new life in australia" she stormed out her room .

" she's kidding right?" dean asked looking to the mean .

" you should dom her  and make her stay , they said she responds to good girl" cas explained .

" i wonder if she would let me come with her " sam mused walking out after her.  

another awkward dinner bobby was almost afraid to ask. Although dean was smiling more than the others.

" cas read fanfiction , pornographic fan fiction " dean explained .

" i've also read some theories too, like bobby is Y/N Dad and not her uncle" cas smiled making bobby choke on his water.

"  their theories cas they're not right ... right? " she laughed but stopped when she notice bobby expression or how he would barel look at her.

" i mean it's a possibility " he mused truthfully making her jaw drop

" great more daddy issue not like the place is drowning in them with these two " she pinched the bridge of her nose and point at sam and dean.

" so the theories of dean being her soulmate are true " cas asked.

" probably " dean shrugged winking at her .

" why did i ever come here, sam wanna move to australia with me " she ignored the other three men .

" look me and your mom had a brief thing , your dad well your dad agreed while he..." . 

" australia sound nice " sam agreed cutting bobby short .

" hey stop denying our love even nerds on internet think we'd be hot together"dean spoke up .

" cas from now on stop the curiosity or so help me i will make you eat the computer  " she  groaned learning too much information for the day .

"we need to do dna test " she turned to bobby .

" you can pick me up at 7 " she turned to dean before walking out leaving the men speechless . 

" i got punished" cas pouted .

" i got a kid  kinda " bobby gulped .

" i got a date " dean smirked .

" and i got a rock ... It's a thing on tiktok ... what cass isn't the only pop culture savvy one around here " sam shrugged .

part three

[grayson1996]

"Will you ever love me for who I am and not who I was?"

The question was almost violently quiet, unbelievably at odds with the non-stop verbal sparring match the two had been doing since they came back into the cave. Fury in their eyes and spite on their tounges.

The question was desperate but resigned. Like Dick already knew the answer but also needed to be wrong.

It zapped any remaining ire within Bruce in an instant, leaving him feeling shallow with guilt and a little bit of horror.

"Of course, I love you, Dick."

"That's not what I was asking B."

Words, words words.

Dick always needed words and Bruce could seldom give them, even when things had been easier between the two. Before death, and pain, and mantels being passed down that should have died with their owners.

Bruce couldn't seem to find them now, couldn't remember how to even begin forming them.

Dick for his part looked disappointed at the silence but not surprised. With a heavy breath, he stretched out his shoulder, uncrossed his arms, and put on a smile meant to disarm.

"Forget I said anything Bruce, I'm just tired."

It was an out that Bruce would normally take, which is why he wasn't sure why instead his hand darted out to stop Dick as he turned around to the showers.

Dick stopped at the hold, though it wasn't a firm one, and gave Bruce an expectant look, eyebrow raised in waiting.

"I do love you Dick, not just the memory of you."

It was the answer he thought his oldest wanted, it was also the truth. So Bruce wasn't sure why it caused Dick to flinch, slipping his arm out of his hold. Smile dropping.

"You don't know me."

"I know you."

"You did. But we don't talk anymore unless it's about the others or the mission." Bruce opened his mouth to argue but shut it almost immediately when he realized Dick was right.

"But I know you."

"Then tell me one fact about my life, that has nothing to do with Nightwing or anyone else. Tell me one thing that isn't a residual from a decade ago."

Dick waited patiently, giving Bruce the opportunity to fix this like he always did. Bruce rolled through his mind looking for a tidbit about his sons personal life and blanched when he realized he couldn't find one.

Batman knew Nightwings patrol schedule, what cases he had been working on and the last time Wing had been on loan to the League. Bruce even knew when Dick came to the Manor for Family Dinner, the weekends he would host Damian, and the sibling dates he had instigated with Duke once the boy joined their fold.

He didn't know if Dick was seeing anyone, or even when the last time his son had a serious relationship was. He couldn't recall what job Dick had picked up to fill his time after quitting WI upon Bruce's return. He didn't know if Dick still read math textbooks like they were fiction, if his son still listened to Indie Pop, or if he still watched horror movies with a glee that Bruce used to find unnerving.

They didn't talk about those things anymore. Bruce hadn't thought it was important. Hadn't since their first fallout years ago, when their whole dynamic shifted and never resettled.

Dick could see the realization on Bruce's face and gave him another smile.

"Jason said once that every time you looked at him it was like you were seeing a ghost. And Bruce... I've felt like a ghost ever since you kicked me out... I'm tired of not feeling real"

"You are real."

"I'm a Brand," Dick said with a bitter laugh. "I'm a marketing ploy whose only depth is surface level. I am always who you need me to be Bruce. You don't have to pretend I'm anything different."

Bruce didn't like how self-deprecating Dick sounded, and in his own bout of desperation, he pulled his son into a hug. One of a nature that the two hadn't shared for years.

"You're my son. I'm sorry I don't know you anymore, at least as well as I should. But I'm going to work on it. I promise."

Bruce could feel Dick fighting the instinct to trust like he didn't want to be let down again. He could also feel the moment Dick decided to give him another chance. His body relaxing into Bruce's hug like a puppet whose strings have been cut.

"We'll see."

[seramilla]

@seramilla

A follow up for the angst you so graciously fed me…

Imagine how Emily would react upon learning the truth about her circumstances?

Imagine how HURT and ANGRY she would be with Sera. Imagine how she would lash out at her sis—no that’s not true anymore…it never was. Sera is her MOTHER and has lied to her this WHOLE time. Did she ever even want a daughter in the first place!? Who is her other parent and where are they!?! What happened to them?!?

It's Emily's own fault, really. Sera had told her over and over to never ask her about it again. But the older Emily gets, the more her curiosity gets the better of her. She's never been the rebellious type -- but Sera's reaction every time she brings up the topic of their parents is so...unpredictable. Sometimes she's angry. Sometimes she closes herself in her office, and won't come out or speak to Emily for the rest of the day.

The reaction is ridiculous. Something is causing her sister to act like this, and one day, that stupid curiosity of hers reaches a point of no return. Sera tells her never to go into her office without permission. But on the day Emily breaks that rule, and confronts Sera about their parents for the last time, she almost wishes that she hadn't.

She defies Sera and walks inside, and even though she can tell Sera has been recently crying, judging by the moisture on both her sister's cheeks, it doesn't stop Emily from demanding an answer one final time.

"Please, Sera!" Emily pleads, smacking her hands down on Sera's desk in defiance. "Please, I need to know. Where do I come from?"

"Get out," Sera says, refusing to meet Emily's gaze, and pointing her finger at the door. "Now."

"No! I'm done with these games, Sera! My entire life, you've held this mystery over my head, and I've had it! Why do you get so sad when I ask this question? Did something happen? Please, tell me what's wrong! I want to know!"

"You don't want to know. Please, don't make me say it."

"Say what? Sera, I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong! What's going on?"

"You can't help this!" Sera screams, standing up and throwing her own hands on her desk in defeat. "No one can! There's nothing you can do to bring her back!"

"Bring who back? Sera...bring who back?"

"Carmilla!"

That name is one Emily's only heard of in stories. One of the angels who'd fallen with Lucifer. One of the names most angels are forbidden from ever speaking about, for fear they'd be tossed out of Heaven, too, just for mentioning in. Why would Sera want to bring her back...?"

"Carmilla?" Emily asks. "What about her? Why would you want to bring her back?"

Sera slumps back into her chair. She leans forward on the desk on her elbows, rubbing her face vigorously with both hands, like she's trying to rub something off her skin that hurts. She then tents her fingers in front of her mouth, staring at Emily across from her. With a heavy sigh, she finally speaks again, after several moments of profound silence.

"Because she's your mother."

Sera says it so bluntly, but with so much sadness. And also so calmly, compared to her outburst a moment prior. As if she's finally resigned herself to being honest, for once in Emily's life. Like she's already made peace with all of this, and the repercussions of it, in her own mind.

"Wha-what?" Emily squeaks. "She's my--my mother?"

Sera sighs again. She breathes deeply, and looks at Emily more intently now, as if preparing the smaller angel for what she's about to say next.

"Yes. She is...and so am I."

A million thoughts race through Emily's head at those words. Carmilla -- the fallen angel Carmilla, one of Heaven's most notorious traitors -- is her mother? And what does Sera mean by and so am I? Does that mean she's also Emily's mother? Is that what she's been hiding this entire time? All these years?

Sera and Carmilla...before the fall...before the traitorous Lucifer betrayed all of Heavenkind...Carmilla and Sera had been...lovers?

"What are you saying?" Emily asks. She's the one shaking this time. "That that traitor...that monster...is my...? And you're my...?"

"Don't call her that," Sera says. "She wasn't a monster."

Sera looks so defeated, slumped forward in her chair, and leaning on her desk like thousands of years of secrets have just fallen off her proverbial shoulders. They probably have.

"And yes. That's exactly what I'm telling you. And what I've been trying to protect you from this entire time. But like you said...you're not a child anymore."

"So all this time...all these years...you've been my mother, and you didn't tell me?!" Emily shouts. She's so...confused...scared...angry! So full of emotion, she can't help but raise her voice at Sera. Sera sits there, just taking it. Already feeling defeated and resigning herself to her sister's reaction. "Why? Why, Sera? Why did you lie to me?"

"To protect you."

"Protect me from what?! The fact that you're my mother?! Why wouldn't you tell me about that?! Are you ashamed of me?! Because I'm...I'm that traitor's daughter, too?!"

"No! Don't call her that! Emily, that's not--!"

"What is it, then?!"

"I loved her, all right?!" Sera shouts. She stands once again, towering over Emily like she always has. She looks even bigger now, much bigger than she did when Emily was a child. Emily almost takes a step back. But she realizes this is her fault. She brought out this side of Sera. She's the one making Sera relive all these memories and harsh feelings. So she stands there and takes it, like an adult, and lets Sera speak.

"I loved her!" Sera repeats. "I loved her so much. And I'm the one who feels ashamed. I'd never be ashamed of you. Never you! You're the one good thing that came out of this...this mess! I'm sorry I hid this from you. But I didn't want you to live with...with the knowledge that I'm the one who betrayed her! I betrayed you both. I'm the reason she's gone...I'm sorry, Emily...I'm so sorry!"

[thesnacken]

I really feel like people don't take my sensory limitations and sensitivities seriously.

I'm not just being picky, actually! Strong scents cause my respiratory system to flare up!

I actually CAN'T tune out stimuli. Its just A Thing. I've never been able to do it in my whole life because my brain Just Isn't Wired Like That

So when I say "Can you not smoke here?" or "Please only get unscented trash bags" or "I really need you to be using headphones, please" I am expressing a Very Real Need and if you're just going to ignore that I have to resign myself to the fact that I just can't trust you.

[zeon-twilight]

Just some more rambles.

When I make one of these posts it's always kind of difficult. I know some of the eyes on the words I write. I know other eyes could be on them if the algorithmic gods feel cheeky. I work to speak my feelings truly, but refine them, examine them, and ideally process them. What I struggle with most I think is feeling them though. It's one of those traits that have their advantages and disadvantages I guess. Feeling them is hard because it gets in the way of doing something to address the cause of them. Like, sure, I feel like crying about a bunch of stuff, and sometimes I allow myself to, but the whole time I get the sense that the energy spent crying might be better used doing something about it. This means I'm often great at getting stuff done regardless of how I'm feeling inside, which is a sometimes boon in the capitalistic sense, but not always great on the old emotional spectrum. I've been accused in the past of being aloof from time to time. It's not really something I mean to do, but I think it's gotten worse as the years have worn me down. The tiredness which pervades my being seeps through into my current endeavors. A pragmatic temptation towards indifference to the struggles of others due to my own. The resignation there is a great deal of pain in this world and fair or unfair, we all bear some measure of it. I try to put a good foot forward, but people can feel it when you don't have the enthusiasm they want from you. You know? Inside I know every person deserves effort and care which is individual to whatever bond you have created, and yet the scar tissue inside limits my emotional range of motion, and my insecurities and pains shows through. There is a sense of "What is the point of trying in a world where it all falls apart eventually?" A nasty habit of looking out for the other foot to fall whenever something nice happens. The temptation to not engage because maybe the winning move is to not play. And yet, usually even feeling all that, I try and grit my teeth, and I choose to care anyway, to try and at least go through the motions of caring even if I can't manage the full emotional resonance of it right now. Not for profit, not for some "point", or even because I think it'll make things work out for me and mine. But because it's what I want to be at the end of the day, and very few of the best parts of who I am came easily, so why would life make caring even through pain easy when it is so clearly needed in this world? At the same time, letting go, moving forward, and making sure I'm caring about the right things, the right people, is important if I'm going to improve stuff. But my thoughts have a nasty habit of pulling to the past, regrets, things I wish I could fix (partly because things keep happening to me that I can't fix, but I digress). All that existing in a socioeconomic system which has everyone scrabbling for scraps and generally many of them not living their most abundant periods of their lives, and you find the horrible recipe for these annoyingly recurrent blog posts. I wanna help the world, but that starts with helping myself and my family. Hard to when things are so scarce, and I know deep down I'm one of the *Lucky ones* I've got a roof over my head, got a computer, got *less* debt than a lot of people. It feels almost entitled to complain at all in a world where people suffer much more than I have even at my worst day, and don't even have a place to write down their feelings. Well, deserved complaints or no, I keep them neatly to this little corner of the internet now don't I? Perhaps that's enough. I suppose it's all just perspectives, isn't it? I hope things are getting better for you, Who/what/when/where-ever you are. ZT

P.S. Don't read anything too much into the highlights. I just noticed I could color text and put some vibe colors on words which stood out to me while I was proof reading. Any messages derived from the colorful words is entirely made up in the mind of the reader and not intended by the writer.

[impetusofadream]

You ever just wish you could go ACTUALLY feral and just bite people when you need to?

Yeah, I'm sure normal, happy, well-adjusted people think I'm nuts, but some people's hubris could use a little biting. Brings them back down on the level of us plebs.

Also I just feel like crap and day a bad day and its raining at 1:30am and im really fucking tired of the one thing I give a shit about (like there is a whole as degree from an overpriced university gathering dust in closet for this) also being the absolute WORST environment for people with depression and self-worth related issues/trauma.

Real talk I probably am insane for being very mentally unwell and actively asking for people to subjectively judge and evaluate me, as a person pretending to be other people, as the thing I thought I could make a career out of.

*Definitely did not used to have to go hide where I wouldn't be bothered so I could cry in peace every time I didn't get cast in something. Now there's mostly just low simmering rage at seeing the same 12 people in every show in town and a sad, quiet resignation that I really had no idea what I doing at 18 picking theater as a major. I just wanted to be happy. (Narrator's Voiceover: Unsurprisingly, this did not in fact make her happy. But part of that was probably the undiagnosed/untreated depression.)

Point being, I'm in my feelings, and they are yucky and biting someone who deserves it just sounds really satisfying right now.

...I have only just realized how this might sound. To clarify, I want to bite people the way a threatened animal does: To cause damage and make the biteé fear for their life. Not in a sexy kinky way.

Yeah I've been up too long and the nsaids for the cramps haven't kicked in yet. Please ignore.

[lifeafterthelayoff]

Part II, Day 2

Layoffs never come at a good time. My experience this week was no exception. A word of warning: this post is a bit heavy, and I'm here to share things honestly. When's a good time to let someone know that they don't have a job? I understand that things change, decisions get made, and the news must get delivered at some point. But unless you've just accepted a new role and were just about to tell your manager that you're resigning, it's gonna be a bad time. I had colleagues that had just relocated to other countries, were on international vacations, or had just sorted their work visa situations receive the news. Different contexts, different scenarios, different impacts. It brings me back to my first dot-com boom layoff back at my first job after college. I was a content manager at a startup (in the year 2000!) My wife and I had gotten married, went on our honeymoon, and returned only to be let go on my first Monday back. My wife accepted a new job, we moved out of state, bought a car that would make it, and generally upended our lives in the span of three weeks. Some good, some bad. My own situation was a little different this time. I was seated in the same house I've been in for 10 years, safe and comfortable. And I know that it's a privilege. But my emotional well-being was far from normal. After nine years, I had to put my dear cat Simon Sparkle to sleep on Friday night. It was sudden, though we'd been dealing with health issues for a while. I spent the weekend in a state of mourning, absolutely crushed. I managed to zombie my way through work on Monday. Tuesday morning was not looking any better. Grieving takes time; there's no rushing it, no matter the circumstances. Then the email arrived Tuesday morning announcing my role-has-been-eliminated status. The whole world went out-of-focus for a while. It felt like any control I had was all slipping away quickly. I scanned over the documents, attended the sessions for the laid off. None of it seemed real. I'm now saddled with the prospect of grief intertwined with grief, unsure of where one begins and the other ends. Am I mourning the loss of my dear fuzzy friend or the loss of my livelihood? Will I be over one but not the other? Some might offer consolation in the form of "it's just a job" or "you'll find something soon." But it's important to acknowledge that the loss of a job causes grief. Real, life-impacting grief that needs time to resolve. And sometimes that grief is compounded by other things in life. If I have any advice, it's to take care of yourself as your mind naturally starts to cycle through the stages of grief. Especially if you are dealing with some other things. Most people are. I went through these stages last May. It does get better, and time heals. Stay strong, friends!

[wizandkonfd]

I don't know about you but I feel '22

It is now less than 60 hours before the year 22 ends and the new year arrives. I have a lot of emotions about 2022; a reasonable mix of the good and bad days, together with a considerably huge number of days of emotional distresses. This year I learned to embrace all of the feelings inside me, all the bad things my brain whispered in the darkest of days, and all the good things my mind savored in its healthiest beings. Apart from that, I've gone through big changes in life, like resigning and starting anew in my career, moving back to KL though I've repeatedly mentioned I'd never live in this soullessly hectic yet lonely city, and renting a whole lot of studio to myself that cause some pain to my saving account. I am still not sure if I've made good choices this year but I am a strong believer of I've always been put in places where I needed to be so maybe, after all, I'm all good.

Oh, I must also mention that this year, especially in the last 2 months, I was so desperate to find myself a partner. I don't know what triggered me to do so. Probably the loneliness that I've felt living alone, or perhaps by comparing my singledom to what I perceived as a completeness of being married couples from a few of my friends. But anyway, I snapped back out of it and realize that maybe I'm still not up for it. I've tried a few online dating apps but I feel that is not really me. I feel like I was a fake character online, and it would cause me misery if I were to continue seeing people based on that character I disguised as online, so I stopped being on dating apps entirely, and I promised I won't ever anymore. (Plus, I don't enjoy texting people either, I swear I'm the driest texter ever).

Anyway, since June I've been reading again, and I have to admit I never thought I could enjoy reading this much. I have found the right genre of books that I like which, surprisingly, is non-fiction books! My younger self would have laughed at this fact! I find myself calmer reading non-fic but I do still enjoy fiction too. The only thing I dislike about reading fiction is I would get so attached to the characters and I would dwell on the plot though I've finished reading a few days already. Sometimes I would think too much about what would I do if I were a character in those stories, and how one scene could impact my life if it happened to me in real life; thinking about these stresses the hell out of me, so that's why I enjoy non-fic more. And with this, I have to admit, this year, I'm a complicated person still. Now I just remembered someone remarked that they couldn't really figure who I was because I would not tell people much about myself. Guess what, I can't figure myself out either. And I think I do enjoy the complexity of being me, not in a way that I think I'm special but more or so like "I'm complex and that's what human is, a complex being".

To sum it up, (though I'm being unfair, to conclude the whole year in this short post) 2022 was weirdly complex but I like it. 22 was me growing, 22 was me stepping out of my comfort zone, 22 was me feeling and acknowledging things, 22 was tears and fears, and most importantly 22 was the year I learn to love myself and actually did love myself the most (I feel like) compared to the previous years. I don't know how many days or hours I have left in this world, but if I were to live long enough until the end of next year, I pray that 2023 will see a wholesome lot of me. I pray that in 2023 I am a better, kinder, healthier, wealthier, livelier me. I pray that in 2023 I'm able to love myself (and also other people around me) more. Until then, 2022, thank you, Alhamdulillah, I had a good ride.

[professorspork]

Yasher koach, the Yom Ki-post is a bat mitzvah girl. Year 13 has arrived.

Over this past month, taking stock of myself and figuring out what I would want to write about/challenge myself over this year, I was particularly stricken by just how much these posts spiral, repeating themselves every few years. I've written before about how disappointed in myself I've been to keep returning to the same issues, but this year I face that truth with... well to say "acceptance" makes it sound like I'm not going to resist my impulses, and that's not what I mean. I face that truth with a sort of resigned recognition of fact. This is my pattern: I get incensed, I get active, I get tired, I get complacent, the cycle repeats.

In past years, I beat myself up over whether this practice serves any real purpose beside my ego, but this year I found myself really looking forward to it, to digging into it. Once again, when I tell new friends about this tradition they are moved, interested, fortifying. And the rabbi approved, so there's that. Ultimately, Yom Kippur is about facing the self with clear eyes, and that's very hard to do when you're like "well it's not very humble to talk about myself so much."

And that's sort of where I've been this year--thinking about selfishness and what it means to be self-centered. I have spent the last 10 months deep in wedding planning, which is the most profoundly self-obsessed thing anyone can do. Never before have I been so tender with myself, so accommodating to my own whims, so miserly and possessive when asked to think about anything else. And while sure, I think most people would agree that getting married is a perfectly understandable time to take a selfish, this holiday isn't about what's understandable. It's about what's right. The whole point is to hold yourself to a higher standard.

I have been weak. Too often I have failed to make the required effort to do my work conscientiously, to give my full attention to those who needed me, to speak the kindly word, to do the generous deed, to express my concern for my friends. ... How I wish I had learned to master myself; to control my impulses; to curb my craving for pleasure, power and possessions; to display consistently those qualities which are most admirable in others!

This year, I put blinders on. I am sorry for all the times I did not donate to worthy causes and to people in greater need than I, demurring instead about my 'wedding budget.' I am sorry for the conversations I steamrolled or only paid half my attention to, because I was in bride mode. I am sorry for the expectations and responsibilities I saddled my family and friends with in order to make this day happen without sufficient warning, sufficient gratitude, sufficient understanding. I am sorry for the way I built this cocoon around myself and then demanded everyone honor it. I do not think I have been a monster, but I have made actively different and more insulated choices this year because of my upcoming wedding, and to say that that's all just fine isn't in the spirit of teshuvah. I could have done better. I could have demanded more of myself, instead of being the architect of my own coasting.

Part of this hunkering-down has been because I find myself at a crossroads. I genuinely have no idea what my life will look like when we next open the Book of Life a year from now; I have no clue what this year's chapter has in store for me. My career is a complete question mark, and my path is once again entirely open. I lay down the gauntlet to myself now that, whatever road I end up taking, I leave room for the rest of the world. I can't be all-or-nothing with my time management; I want to be cognizant of my pattern spiral enough that I can lean in the other direction.

Maybe that's-- not the best we can hope for, but the reason Yom Kippur is built the way it is. So we can be adults about this and say "hey self, you're back on your bullshit again and you know it, cut it out." And maybe we never fully will, but we can see it enough to try. To set aside time to know what our bullshit is and correct for it.

Or to put it another way: being mad at myself for past failures isn't the same thing as doing the work. And maybe if I spent less time jawing about it, I'd have more time to actually change the things I want to.

Forgive me the past, and lead me into the future.

A Yom Kippur Meditation

In my individuality I turn to you, O God, and seek Your help. For You care for each of your children. You are my God, and my Redeemer. Therefore, while around me others think their own thoughts, I think mine; and as each one of them seeks to experience Your presence, so do I.

Each person’s abilities are limited by nature and by the circumstances we have had to face. Whether I have done better or worse with my capacities than others with theirs, I cannot judge.

But I do know that I have failed in many ways to live up to my potentialities and Your demands. Not that You expect the impossible. You do not ask me: “Why have you not been great as Moses?” You do ask me: “Why have you not been yourself? Why have you not been true to the best in you?”

I will not lay the blame on others, though they may have wronged me, nor on circumstances,  though they may have been difficult. The fault lies mainly in myself.

I have been weak. Too often I have failed to make the required effort to do my work conscientiously, to give my full attention to those who needed me, to speak the kindly word, to do the generous deed, to express my concern for my friends. I have not loved enough, not even those closest to me.

…

I have much that I failed to do. There is also much that I wish I had not done. By many words and deeds I have caused harm. It is not easy now to remember the details; out of guilt I tend to shut them out of my consciousness. But clearly or dimly, the regretted memories now come back to me. I have, in many ways, hurt my sisters and brothers; I have betrayed their trust, offended their sensibilities, damaged their self-respect. Sometimes, indeed, I have done harm from what seemed at the time good motives. Sometimes my supposed love for others was in reality only a desire to dominate them. And sometimes what I took to be righteous indignation was only uncontrolled anger or unforgiving vindictiveness.

How I wish I had learned to master myself; to control my impulses; to curb my craving for pleasure, power and possessions; to display consistently those qualities which are most admirable in others! Have I made any progress at all in this, the greatest of all arts, the art of living? Perhaps a little; certainly not enough.

Why? Because I have not been true to myself. Because I have not nurtured sufficiently the good in me. For there is good in me. “The soul that You have given me is pure!” There is that in me which condemns me when I do wrong and urges me to do right, which holds up before me the ideal, and challenges me to reach toward it. There is in me a spark if Your divinity.

How to realize the ‘divine image’ in me— there is the question and the answer. Surely it means to seek You more earnestly, to submit myself to Your will; to say to you: Here I am; mould me, guide me, command me, use me, let me be Your coworker, an instrument of Your redemptive purpose.

Help me then, O God; help me always, but especially now, on this sacred Day of Atonement; help me to banish from myself whatever is mean, ugly, callous, cruel, stubborn, or otherwise unworthy of a being created in Your image. Purify me, revive me, uplift me. Forgive me the past, and lead me into the future, resolved to be Your servant.

May the words of my mouth, and the meditations of my heart, be acceptable to You, O Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer. Amen.

[withoneheadlight]

ok i saw this cap of zoë kravitz in hf and she's got such a dreamy expression, she looks so deeply self-absorbed and infatuated by whatever she's imagining and those lines. and i couldn't stop picturing billy exactly like that for days so,

,

There’s a pretty unusual sound coming off the house when Max comes back home, that summer afternoon.

Full volume. Walls shaking. And she quietly walks to the source of the sound, holding back her breath right in front of Billy's room because, there's this second sound? Stranger and way more unsettling and Max's not sure-sure at first but then Steve Perry’s voice takes off and Billy’s follows it and then he's like, singing along and. Well. Max did know Billy liked Journey but not like, their 'stuff for pussies' but uhm, he does, apparently. Rasps his voice all the way through ‘Faithfully’. Kind of, sighs. Longingly? When it ends? But pfff, ok, big brothers are weird. Definitely weirder after being possessed and then kind of resurrected. Even if it's in a good-weird way but, whatever. So Max's just about to sneak to her room, dutifully rolling her eyes, steps muffled by the first chords of 'Edge of the blade' when―

Click. Click. Billy stops the tape. Click. Takes it out. Tap. Tap. Click. Puts on― Billy puts. On,

Heaven.

Bryan Adams’ Heaven.

And Max―

Being a younger sister is a meticulous kind of full-time, private detective job. You gotta learn how the person you’ve been watching so carefully for years and years works. Hafta develop some sort of―sense about your target. And Billy’s been—un-Billy-like? These past two months. Smiling more. Telling more jokes. Playing ‘You shook me all night long’ in a loop on their drive to school and back, not complaining at all but even joining when’s Max who can’t help but sing along so.

So. She retraces her steps. Knocks. Takes the distracted grunt she gets as a ‘Yeahyeah, c’mon in c’mon in’ and,

Creak. Creak. ‘―baby you’re all that I want’

“Billy?”

Billy’s sitting cross-legged on the floor. Radio close to his knees. Cassettes scattered everywhere. Piles and piles of breakwater surrounding Billy’s old, rusty beacon of sound. He’s reading through the song-list of one of the tapes, a smoke locked on the corner of his mouth, bouncing up and down with every little, absent suck he takes, and he looks. He looks―

Self-absorbed and even. Relaxed. Happy. Like whatever he’s thinking about right now is actually carrying his thoughts away to fucking heaven.

“Ehh”

“Uh-hu?”

‘When you’re lying here in my arms!’

“Billy are you. What―” ‘I'm findin' it hard to believe. We're in heaven’ “What are you doing?”

But there’s this orbit around the sun and then there’s whatever one Billy's been spinning along with the last couple of months so he completely ignores her question. Shakes the tape on his left hand. Picks another one from the pile on his right. Asks her.

“Is Billy Ocean too much? ‘Cause I think it’s too much. But it kind of fits into what I'm trying to say so” he says, shrugs, looking up at Max and waiting for the answer of what she realizes was not really a question. Not at all. So she does her little sister job and just, nods “Right. That’s good. I think it’ll slide just nicely into Bruce Springsteen and―”

“Billy” Max insists, waiting for the charm of the third time to work. It doesn’t. Not really. But keeps Billy's eyes on her long enough to squeeze an “A mixtape?” And, uh. That’s what gets it on. The charm “Are you making a mixtape?”

“Uh?”

And it’s like Max just shook Billy out of a daydream. Ash plopping down from his cigarette as his lips try but can’t purse and Max― she’s good. She’s stellar at this detective thing. Recognizes an opening the moment she sees it, right there in front of her, frozen in the middle of shaking Billy Ocean and Bruce Springsteen in the air right before cocktailing them together. Shaken, not stirred, please. Max’s upgraded to James Bond-level just right now.

“You’re making a mixtape for someone”

“Oh-nonoMaxi―”

“But you didn’t have those tapes before. Not even in your secret stash”

“How do yo―?”

“Holy. ShIT. You’ve been listening to somebody else’s music” This is. Oh, God. This. Is. GOLD. Max gotta take a moment. Blink. Breathe. Process. Her hands move by themselves, palms spread toward Billy in a wait-a-minute kind of gesture except. Max’s gonna need way more than a minute for this “You’ve accepted a music recommendation”

“Maaaaax”

“Gosh, you’ve even listened to the tapes enough to. Make―”

“Max!”

“I just can’t believe it”

And Max was glad. Well. As glad as one can be. Bunch weeks ago. Her mom and Neil out for the day. Coming back home a little earlier than she usually does to hear those ugh. Those other noises. Happy screams. Again. After months and months of Billy being basically alone except for her and the party and Steve. And Max’s so glad, of course she is. But she’s also a little sister. And all this investigation work has a high, rightful purpose.

Make her big brother’s life a living. Hell.

“Oh my god, you must be so gone!” Max brings her hands to her mouth. Takes a deep, deep breath that’s more a poorly restrained giggle. Shoots her index at him “Is it Bon Jovi? What I’m seeing right there? Goddam, Billy are you in lo―”

Bam.

Bam. Bam!

The front door.

What a way to spoil the fun. Max doesn’t have time for this. She’s working.

“BILLY?” comes a voice from the other side “Billy are you in there?”

Steve.

Oh.

What a way to make the fun a hundred times better.

Bam.Bam.Bam!

She’s starting to move to get to the door, sinsonging “Well, I guess Steve’s gonna find out you’re so stupid in love you’re willingly listening to―” when she realizes Billy’s eyes have widened and he’s jerkingly trying to unfreeze, he’s mumbling something in around his already extinguished cigarette in the ways of “Can’t” and “Find out” and “Surprise” and “Fucking help me!” While literally trying to shove the huge mass of tapes under his bed, his tone like hurryhurryhurry!, like he would start gagging and throwing his lungs out at any given minute, so nervous he looks.

So Max doesn’t go for the door. Yet. She basks in the enjoyment.

“Oh, is it a secret romance or something?” She sighs happily, leaning against the doorframe instead. “‘Cause you look pretty worried”

Steve’s banging the door now, voice wavering a little as he asks-shouts “Billy? Billy answer me! Hey, bab―Are you ok?”

“Max, please” Billy begs. Begs. Crawling over to where a Madonna’s Like a virgin is laying with the tape looping slightly out “He really can’t find out”

“What? That you’re in lo-o-oh-oh-OH―”

Billy stops at the tone, right there on his knees. Spits his forgotten cig to the side. And in the instant it seems to take him to make up his mind they both can hear Steve shout “Ok. I know you’re in there!. I’m coming in now!!”

“Fuck! Yeah. I am. Ok?” he looks like he just realized he’s tripped. Blushes. “Making it, I mean”

BAM!

And Ohhhhhhh.

Zero-fucking-zero-fucking-seven.

“Steve,” Max gasps. Because. Hear it makes it like. Easier. To process “You. And Steve”

B A M!

“Yeah, Max, Yeah. And this is a fucking surprise and he’s gonna―”

‘I've been waitin' for so long. For somethin' to arrive. For love to come along’

Ok. Oh. Okok.

“Door!” Max hastens him.

“What?”

“You. Door. Run!” She commands, and Billy― sometimes Max can’t honestly understand how he's got the grades he's got, because Billy blinks, looks clueless “C’mon slow ass. Hurry! I’ll hide all this shit”

And Billy finally gets it. Nods. Slow. Then fast. Stumbles up. Literally runs, to get to the door.

Max still gets to hear his labored “Fuck, pretty boy. “That was really hardcore of you. That's how bad you wanted to see me?” And Steve's own breathless “Really?” Before pushing Billy's room door close with her back, and kneeling on the floor to check for stray, incriminating cassettes.

Pretty boy. Maybe Max isn't as clever as she thought she is. Or hasn’t been doing her job right, clearly.

It's when she’s making ‘It’s a kind of magic’ disappear into the rest of the pile that she lays eyes on it. The case. The J-card written almost all the way down to the B-side already. A mixture of songs Billy's heard so many times there are parts where his tapes screech, and others she'd bet her life he wouldn’t have deigned to listen to. Not ever. Definitely not because―no, for, somebody. Bowie and Cher and Cindy Lauper and Bob Seger right next to Metallica and Guns n' Roses and Meatloaf and― there. There. Almost hidden in the back of the spine. A note. A tiny, thin-lettered thing Max really, really shouldn't be reading but―

‘Thanks for driving me back.

Love. Billy’

But. That's what little sisters do too, she guesses. Intrude. Annoy. Snoop. Feel this sudden rush of relief. Of happiness. When Billy laughs softly, on the other side of the door. When Steve laughs back. Maybe a tear. Or two. But just maybe. She’s really good at this little sister thing, after all.

Hopes for stellar.

,

or: that post s3 where steve lets a camaro-less billy drive him around in his own car "really? again, hargrove?" almost every single day, for months, after he comes back, because "you’re gonna perpetually stick yourself to my ass at least let me do the one thing that frikin’ calms me down" which results in steve resigning himself to deejaying in the shotgun even if "jesus, what's that shit, harrington?" "my car, my rules, sweetheart" which results in billy developing a ‘songs steve harrington is in love with’ mental playlist, realizing he’s probably a little bit in love with the way he loves them and, possibly, a little much love with steve and then stealing steve's tapes one day and,

making a mixtape about it.

(the first of a whole lot, of love letters)

[smallblip]

A quick prompt @luanabonn and I came up with seeing this TOTALLY CANON scene of Levi bathing Hange in this hilarious animatic video (the best part is obviously from 0:17-0:25)

Imagine the first time the vets walked in on Levi bathing Hange and Erwin would probably just facepalm or start rubbing his temples like "Geeez guys, really?". Mike would be like "Called it!" and high five Nana. Poor Moblit would probably just freez cause he's traumatized for life 😂

Years later when the 104th kids walk into the same scenario, Levihan would legit try to normalize it 😂 I see Levi saying something like "What are you looking at, brats? This is perfectly normal. I've been doing this for years now, okay?" and Hange would say "yeah... It's surely not like we're dating or something like that...ha ha ha... not at all"

And the kids be like "Yeah we know you're not dating... Because you're already married... Mom & Dad" ❤️

Yasssss my bbs💖 @hanjo-love @luanabonn thank you both💖 I love this!

Also thank you for the video it was GREAT.

Two sides, same goddamn coin

“Erwin... Why are you standing out on the corridor?” Mike asks on the way back to his room. It’s late. There’s no reason for Erwin to be standing back against his door, looking absolutely resigned.

Nanaba peeks from behind Mike, “hey boys, what’s the commotion about?”

Moblit is with Nanaba, both deciding to search the male dorms for Hanji who has seemingly disappeared into thin air.

“Hanji and Levi are in my bath...” Erwin exhales a sigh, eyes shut, fingers rubbing his temples.

“What do you mean?” Mike says carefully. At this point, Moblit just looks like he’s seen a ghost. Abort abort! It’s okay Nanaba I’ll look for Hanji buntaicho another time! It’s not that urgent! Nothing is that urgent! But Moblit knows it’s too late. He knows where this is all going. He’s part of their little game now.

“I mean...” Erwin gives them ‘that look’, the one they always give one another when Levi and Hanji are being insufferable, “they are in my bath... Bathing... Together...”

Mike and Nanaba freeze for a second.

It’s only a split second and soon they’re pushing past Erwin and dashing in his room.

“Wait-“ Erwin and Moblit in a hushed whisper. But soon the three of them are standing outside his bathroom door.

Laughter streams through from the other side of the door.

“Oh my god...” Nanaba gasps, “what’s going on?”

“Let’s weigh our options,” Mike suggests.

“On one hand, we get to see for ourselves, get to the bottom of this matter... You know... Investigate...” Erwin has his thinking face on.

“Investigate huh... That’s exactly what the tax payers pay us to do in the Survey Corps...” Mike says. Immediately it’s clear what his preference is.

“On the other hand...” Erwin continues, “Levi might murder us all...”

“A worthy death for a soldier...” Mike shrugs.

“Oh no... I really don’t think we should...” Moblit stutters. Nanaba notes that he is very sweaty.

Looks are exchanged and it has been decided. With a heavy hand, Erwin slams open the bathroom door.

There’s a scream that’s only stopped when Levi slaps his hand over Hanji’s mouth.

“What?” Levi snaps, as if they had been trespassing.

“You’re in my bath...” Erwin says, equally matter of fact.

“Your bath is the nicest...” Hanji offers.

“You’re in my bath... Together...” Erwin raises a brow.

“As Captain of the Survey Corps, you said it was my duty to supervise the cleanliness and hygiene of the soldiers,” Levi murmurs, sinking lower into the bubbles, hands coming to cover Hanji up. Absolute gentleman.

“This is a very unique means of supervision, Captain...” Erwin smirks.

“Whatever gets the job done, Commander...” Levi spits the last word.

Behind him, Mike and Nanaba high five. Finally. Some catharsis. They called it. They all called it. Levi and Hanji were a thing. This is absolute proof. No one can tell them otherwise now. Ha! Take that! Moblit has averted his eyes. Nothing in this world can compel him to look.

“Excuse me ladies...” Hanji clears her throat, shifting uncomfortably against Levi, “I am very naked, and to be honest with you, the water is starting to get cold... Soon I will be freezing my tits off... So could we please continue this at a more convenient time?”

“Whatever you say m’lady...” Erwin tips his imaginary hat.

“Fuck you...” Hanji narrows her eyes at him and mutters under her breath. Great. They can never use Erwin’s bath again. What alternatives are there? The cadet showers maybe? The piping is really new there, that means there’s a whole lot of hot water. Probably not. They don’t need a part two of this happening.

-

“Hanji san! We need to seek approval for-“

Everyone’s jaw is agape. Armin’s hands have flown to cover his face, “my virgin eyes...” he’s murmuring repeatedly.

“Why wouldn’t you close the bathroom door!” Sasha shouts accusatorily. Now the bunch of them are standing awkwardly in Hanji’s room, averting their gaze from the adjacent bath. Should they leave now? They really should. But there are forms that need filling.

“Why wouldn’t you guys knock!” Hanji retaliates.

“You always ask us not to!” Connie shoots back.

Oh, Hanji winces, she did in fact tell them to just enter because half the time she’s too engrossed in whatever it is she’s doing to hear.

“What the fuck do you want brats?” Levi has sunk all the way down the bath, the water now grazing his chin.

“We would like to seek permission from Hanji san to go to the town on Monday for supplies...” Armin pipes up, eyes still squeezed shut.

“Permission granted! Now go!” Levi shouts.

Sasha sees the opportunity and ceases it, “we would also like to request for the weekend off for recreational purposes! Sir!”

“Don’t push it Braus!” Levi snaps.

Darn it.

“Anything else? Or would you guys like to run through your entire schedules for the next two months with me while you’re at it? It’s not like I’m in the bath naked or anything ha-ha!” Hanji guffaws. It’s so painfully awkward her body literally cannot conjur anything rational to do. They have both slid so far down the tub that she’s practically lying atop Levi, his crotch against her butt making her blush up a storm.

“Why are you in the bath with Captain Levi?” Mikasa asks. Everyone stares at her.

“Mikasa!” Armin exclaims. They absolutely do not need more time in this tiny room with their two naked superiors.

“Hanji is filthy. I’m cleaning her. What’s abnormal about this situation?” Levi deadpans.

“I can’t reach my back! It’s a practical arrangement!” Hanji chuckles, “it’s not like we’re dating or anything!”

“My parents are married and they don’t even do this...” Sasha murmurs.

Jean has had enough. His face is so red he feels like he’ll die if he doesn’t stop this nonsense. This is a conversation that never needed to happen. “Permission to be dismissed from this conversation!”

“Fuck! Finally! Permission granted Jean!” Hanji says, throwing her hands up in despair.

Everyone shuffles out the door, and Armin bumps against the frame multiple times because his eyes are still shut. Levi and Hanji let out a collective sigh. Good lord Armin!

“Uh... Okay... Bye mom and dad...” Eren stutters, how does one leave this situation on a good note because this isn’t it, “I mean... Captain... Squad leader...” he gathers his jaw from where it has hit the ground and leaves with the others.

Hanji laughs awkwardly and turns to Levi, “remember when Erwin and the others saw-“

Levi’s face is red, and the blush has now spread to his neck. Thankfully the kids are gone. Another moment longer and most of the bubbles would have popped. He tsks and cuts Hanji off, “I would very much not like to remember that... Or this...”

[kellanved-ammanas]

Something with your favorite ship?

Thank you for the request! (From this request event.) Choosing a singular fav ship for this fandom is hard 'cause I love Pyro/Medic, Pyro/Merasmus, and Scout/Sniper and which one I like more depends on what kind of mood I'm in. But I figured since it's been the longest since I've done anything for Scout/Sniper I'd do something with them.

Stranded

The car was busted, well and truly. Scout had picked up a little engineering knowledge from hanging out with Engie over the years but not enough to fix this or even know exactly what the problem was. Maybe he should’ve paid more attention, asked more questions, or made a point to remember better. Too late now though.

The worst part was that he hadn’t even hit anything. The car had just decided to give up on life all on its own. Leaving him stranded in the middle of the Australian desert; a horrible place to be.

Slamming the car’s hood down, he stepped back and looked around at the desert surrounding him. He was a long way from anywhere and it was hot, ugh! He walked back around to the still open front door and leaned in to try turning the key a few more times. … Nope, it wasn’t starting up.

With a resigned sigh, he leaned a bit further in to grab his backpack off the passenger side seat and hoisted it up onto his back. Looks like he was walking. The question was though should he head back to town to get a new car and/or call someone – probably Sniper even though this visit was supposed to be a surprise – or should he continue on towards Sniper’s family farm? Which one was even closest at this point? And why did Sniper have to live in the middle of nowhere to begin with? He was even more insane than Scout had thought, living a multi-hour long drive from even just a small town.

He slammed the car door shut and gave its front tire a hearty kick that actually hurt a little before turning and… freezing. A busted blue pickup truck was driving down the road towards him. It was going back towards town so looks like Scout was heading back that way too for now, assuming it stopped to pick him up anyway. But surely all the way out here any halfway decent person would take pity on him and give him a ride. So he stepped forward, raising his thumb in the air.

The truck obligingly slowed to a stop in front of him. Lowering his thumb, he took a breath to say something as the driver side window rolled down but again froze instead.

“Scout? That really you?” Sniper asked, confirming that it really was him and not just someone who looked a lot like him and wore the same sunglasses and hat combo he did.

“Uh… yup. It’s me.” In hindsight this wasn’t that surprising, Scout had come out here to visit him after all so of course running into him was a possibility, he lived near here.

“What are you doing all the way out here?”

“I was coming up to visit you. It was supposed to be a surprise so uh… surprise.”

Sniper opened his mouth to reply but Scout barreled on, pretending not to have noticed just in case Sniper was mad at him for this and didn’t actually want to see him. Even if they had been good friends and hung out often their relationship had primarily been because they worked together and that whole thing had ended like a year ago and they’d barely talked since. “Boy am I glad you just happened to come along though. My car broke down. I guess that’s my fault for buying a cheap one, huh?” He hadn’t known if he was going to be welcome to stick around for long so he hadn’t wanted to spend much. “Can I uh… hop in?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, of course. I can tow your car too if you want. I was just heading to town anyway. We could stop by the mechanic to get it looked at.”

“Sounds like a plan. Thanks.” He’d gladly take care of that first and then figure out how welcome he was here. And then if that turned out how he hoped then… well who knows where things could or might go from there. It’s not like Scout exactly had a plan on how to court Sniper, he was just winging it ‘cause that’s the only way he knew how.

[cloversdreams]

Why I grailed my servants :3c (spoiler, the answer is love)

ENG companion to my JP list

Ozymandias

MY KING!! MY LOVE!! The number one character I spoil most across both games!! I bought his scale figure before I ever even touched the game. His design is just perfection. He's seriously the reason I'm addicted to this godforsaken game now. I. Love. Him.

Robin Hood

Robin carried my ass through soo much of the early game. I adore him, his personality, and the pretty final art (not this summer one which is also great). He's been through the whole game with me, just like Ozy, and has a special place in my heart because of it. He's currently my only low rarity servant grailed on EN.

Achilles

Ok but like. I loooove him!! His design, his personality, ughhh. Yes, please. They hit me right where it hurt and I thanked them for it. Every time I see him in game I just "!!". And every time he smiles I swear I could fly. Feed me all the Achilles content, I'll gladly slorp it up. I AM READY FOR THAT SUMMER OUTFIT.

Karna

I can't imagine it's possible not to love him like... did you close your eyes during his moments in story/events? Completely ignore his interludes? Please he's just soo good. Whether as a bestie or boyfren, he'd treat me right. 15/10. Immaculate vibes and impeccable fashion sense.

Arthur

The only Arthur for me!! Until he gets an alter... then I'll admit that I have two hands. For now, I use both to hug this goodest boy. I constantly think about how he won that poll for nicest face. Over allll the waifus. It's what he deserves. The goal for next year is to NP5 him, wish me luck!!

Arjuna Alter

I really liked his design and when he finally dropped I went hard on his banner (also because Karna was on the same one and I figured either SSR was a win at the time lol). Fun fact: he's the first limited five star I've gotten to NP5 :0

Zhuge Liang Lord El-Melloi II Waver Velvet

Waaaaaver. Nuff said. No, but really, he's just an exhausted dork with the hots for one of the thiccest men I've ever seen in my life and then he adopts a daughter who ends up taking care of him cause he's a big loser like... What's not to love?? Righttt, there's the whole being one of the best supports in the game I guess. Mostly the other things, though.

Summer Kiara

takes deep breath. WIFE WIFE WIFE WIFE WIFE WIFE WIFE WIFE WIFE WIFE WIFE WIFE WIFE WIFE WIFE WIFE WIFE WIFE W

She'd kick my ass and I'd thank her. 1000% smitten. First wooman I grailed in EN!!

Ashiya Douman

Newest grail let's gooo!! My poor little meow meow. Such crimes he has committed. I make no excuses for him I'm the first one to call him terrible. Damn if I'm not a sucker for that body though. I want him to lie in my lap so I can pet him like a content cat. He will probably bite me but honestly that's all just foreplay in the end.

On our way to 2k gold Fous as well as bond ten!! I'm actually reading through the story so no final ascension art yet, but you know as soon as that bitch is unlocked I'll equip it!! I AM WEAK.

♧

Since there aren't as many chars as the other list, I will also add thoughts on potential future grail candidates for this account:

Santa Karna

I am positively smitten with the first (and prob only) male Santa. From his incredible design to his animations, I can't get enough. My desire to grail him is impossible to ignore at this point and I've already resigned myself to the fact that it's going to happen.

Saber Astolfo

I don't even know what happened but I suddenly grew a crazy fondness for Astolfo seemingly overnight. Especially his saber unit. He's so stinking cute. I love his animations so much ugh. He's a good boy and deserves love.

Salome

Wife. Honestly she's just so fricken gorgeous. One of my top fav female char designs in game for sure. She deserves at least a silver card. I'll have to decide whether or not to go all the way to gold.

Paracelsus

I have love for him and his pretty final ascension. His interactions with Master once he's summonable are all so precious imo. I don't know... he's got a cute smile and I'm weak, okay??

Mandricardo

MY FRIEND.

Vritra

Assuming I can actually get her at some point... Dragon Wife. Nuff said.

Honorable mention: RIDER KINTOKI. WHO I MISSED OUT ON. BRING HIM BACK DAMMIT.

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎! 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜:

𝙹𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚈𝚞𝚗𝚑𝚘

Disclaimer: In no way am I condoning, justifying, encouraging nor trying to romanticize yandere behavior. This is all a work of fiction and not meant to represent real life scenarios.

Warning: Mentions of toxic relationship, yandere behavior, self harm, sexual scenes, guilt tripping, gas lighting and other forms of mental manipulation are contained within this post. Read at your own discretion.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐁𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧:

𝙽𝚊𝚖𝚎: 𝙹𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚈𝚞𝚗𝚑𝚘

𝙳.𝙾.𝙱: 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚑 𝟸𝟹𝚛𝚍, 𝟷𝟿𝟿𝟿

𝙷𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝: 𝟷𝟾𝟼 𝙲𝙼/ 𝟼'𝟷 𝙵𝚝

𝙰𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕: ■■□□□40%

𝙾𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕: ■■■■■100%

𝙼𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝙸𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢: ■■■■□80%

𝙾𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕: 𝙻𝚘𝚠

𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙲𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: 𝙳𝚎𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝

𝙱𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝙰𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚢𝚜𝚒𝚜:

• 𝙸𝚗𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚘𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 .

•𝚄𝚗𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚑𝚢 𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝.

•𝙵𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗.

• 𝙴𝚡𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚕/ 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍.

•𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏- 𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚣𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Normal Yunho at first seems like your average guy. He's very sweet, caring, playful and his close, and very few, friends he has would say that he's full of energy and smiles.

He just radiates this sunshine personality that draws people to him, although they may not stay very long.

He met you through mutual friends and acted the same as he did with others.

Albeit it's true, he was very affectionate towards you from the start, which both surprised and didn't surprise his friends.

But that doesn't mean he felt love at first sight with you.

Yunho isn't one to get overly attached right away.....yet.

It happened gradually.

He became attracted to your confident, strong and bold nature, all traits which he lacked in.

But no one knows that because he's good at hiding it.

You were also a very compassionate and empathetic person, which sealed the deal for him.

He admired you from afar, not wanting to get close to you just yet.

However, he'd get pouty and insecure whenever another man would show intentions of wanting to get close to you.

He'd whine often about it and that's how you found out he had feelings for you.

You thought it was cute, that he was cute.

So you were the one who took the first step to start a relationship.

Although shocked, Yunho was extremely happy.

As a boyfriend, he is very devoted to you, putting you above everything else, including his friends, family and health.

Everything moves really fast with him. Example:you had your first kiss on your first date.

Yunho just doesn't see why you have to wait if you two love each other.

"I feel like I've known you my whole life."

Not even 3 months later and you were already sleeping together.

Yunho sees that was the moment he went to heaven......

And that was the moment when hell started.

Yunho started becoming more and more clingy.

Texting, calling you at odd hours, asking you things like where you were, what were you doing, who you were with and if he could go see you.

He usually makes you stay till very late at his place that you have to spend the night with him.

No other option. He insists.

Even keeps spare clothes for you in a drawer he set aside just for you.

Till one day: "Why don't you just move in with me? It'll be so much easier and I could see you even more."

You hesitated, since you were barely 6 months into the relationship and you already felt smothered by his constant presence.

"I don't.... I don't know Yunho.."

He panicked at your hesitation.

"Why...why not? Don't you love me? Is it because you don't want to be around me?"

You began calming him down, trying to explain that maybe things were going to fast, but that only made him get more agitated.

It was truly terrifying for you to see him hyperventilating and choking on his own breathing like that.

Hot tears were falling rapidly down his face as he began saying:

"Why don't you love me? Is it something I did? What am I doing wrong? Tell me!"

"Yunho you did nothing wrong. You're perfect the way you are and I love you just the way you are."

He sniffled and wiped his nose on one of his sweater paws.

"Do you love me? R-really?"

You nodded your head in confirmation. But Yunho was still sulky about something.

"But then.... wha-why not move in? I p-promise you'll like it."

He looked at you with such fragile and tender eyes that you could not refuse him. So you agreed to move in with him.

Biggest mistake you made.

Even though he had his eye on you for most of the day, it wasn't enough for him.

If you were even 3 minutes home later than usual, he was badgering you with questions like:

"Who were you with? What took you so long?"

And you're like "Geez. Let me breathe."

Don't say things like that to him. He starts feeling bad and responds with things like:

"I know I'm sorry, I'm such a pathetic excuse of a boyfriend."

It honestly broke your heart to hear him say such things.

But it also irritated you how jealous he got when you hung out or even talked to another man that wasn't him.

He'd latched onto you in public if he felt you were paying more attention than he liked to another guy.

Sometimes would cause a scene that made you run back home in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry! I just can't help it! Don't you get it?! They're trying to take you away from me!"

"No! You're just an overly possessive and overly jealous boyfriend and I can't stand it anymore! I'm leaving."

"Wait what?"

Yunho watched in horror as you began packing a small bag so you could spend the night somewhere else, and pick up the rest of your stuff later.

All throughout that, Yunho begged, cried and went ballistic.

He repeated for you not to go, not to leave him.

"Y/N you don't understand....you can't leave me... I'll die, I can't live without you.."

You merely rolled your eyes at that. No one dies of a broken heart.

So you just walked out the door and rented a hotel room for the night, unaware of the mess you were about to wake up to.

You woke up bombarded by texts and missed calls from Yunho's friends:

"What did you do to him?!" "You heartless bitch!" "I hope you die if anything happens to him!" "All he did was love you and you destroyed him."

Then the hospital called you: Yunho had tried to kill himself in the night.

Your heart stopped when you found out. You felt so guilty and you felt like a monster.

Without thinking twice, you ran to the hospital to see him.

He layed there, still unconscious from the medication they gave him to calm him down.

You stayed by his side, praying that he'd wake up soon so you could apologize.

He woke up and although he looked surprise to see you....he was only feigning.

Of course you'd go out of your way to see him.

You were bawling your eyes out and holding him close, scared out of your wits at the thought that you almost lost the love of your life.

Yunho apologized, but you hushed him with a kiss, saying it wasn't his fault.

From then on, you began blaming yourself for everything....

And he made sure to remind you not to test him again.

You thought that after that talk, everything would be back to normal and you two could be a regular couple.

How stupid you were.

Life with Yunho now was like walking on thin ice all the time.

You couldn't mention anything about him that made you slightly uncomfortable because he's belittling himself with such foul words, crying to the point of hysteria....

But the worst times are when he's banging his head on a wall hard enough to draw blood, or punching the concrete wall so hard that his knuckles end up bloody and bruised.

You have a heart attack whenever that happens.

You've been so traumatized by his previous suicide attempt that any harm he does to himself sends you in a panic and you're holding him to you, comforting him and reminding him that you love him and won't ever leave him.

Then happy Yunho is back, as if nothing happened.

And he always wants you to reaffirm your love after such ordeals in the bedroom.

Yunho never ever fucks you, no matter how messed up he is.

He likes to take his time with you, going down on you or teasing you with his long fingers before he's thrusting his cock deep inside you.

Always cums inside you, always. With no protection.

It's a reminder that you belong to him and him only.

And also because he knows there's a possibility he could get you pregnant.

Which is what he wants.

If you two have a child together, it would only strengthen the bond you two have and it's another reason to tie you down to him.

And that's exactly what happened.

You were terrified and tried to conceal it for the longest time, but Yunho isn't dumb.

He was elated when he found out you were carrying his child inside of you.

Which only prompted his obsessive nature to escalate.

He made you quit your job because he wanted you to stay home to take care of your baby.

Of course, that's just an excuse to keep you from leaving the house.

You two also officially got marriage, and that was it for Yunho.

He finally succeeded in bounding you two together for life.

As a father, he doesn't mind sharing you with your new baby daughter.

He loves and adores his daughter very dearly because she is a physical manifestation of the love between him and you.

But she's the only child you two are having. There's only so many people he's willing to share you with.

To others, he's a doting and loving father and husband.

In the eyes of an outsider, you guys are the perfect family.

But you.....you stopped fighting a long time ago.

You resigned yourself to accept that this is your life now and you'd better make the best of it.

You're no longer the strong, confident and decisive woman you once were.

Yunho made sure to tear that all down to the point where you simply just act in a way that'll make him happy and won't trigger him to repeat what happened years ago...

Especially not in front of your daughter. You do not want her to experience what you did.

So the question remains.....how do you escape Yandere Yunho?

Well....... you have two choices:

Either spend the rest of your life playing into his façade of a perfect relationship, that's the easier choice.

It certainly spares you the mental, emotional and physical strain of fearing when his next suicide attempt might happen if you do anything that'll result in him degrading himself or guilt tripping you into staying with him.

Or..........kill yourself. But keep in mind that if you do, he won't be too far behind from you. In the words of Yandere! Yunho himself:

"Nothing will ever break our bond, our bond is forever. Even in death, our love will go on."