#no thoughts brain empty. how do i creativity in these conditions

[technologyvoid]

I'm so tired

[lemongogo]

oo u want 2 draw soo bad..

[password-door-lock]

Mystictober Day 24-- Love/Hacked

Ray really had no choice but to hack into your thoughts… right? (825 words)  Content warning: manipulation 

It was no trouble at all for Ray to hack into your brain and make you love him.

Of course, the first step was to make sure that you felt confident and secure in your room at Magenta. Perhaps his first mistake had been to leave you with a door that anybody other than Ray could unlock— no wonder you couldn’t enjoy your paradise, living under conditions like that. The next step was to give you the elixir of salvation to ensure that you’d be easier to guide on the path to salvation and enlightenment. Ray could never blame you for not understanding everything right away. After all, he’s the one who’s meant to teach you, and luckily for you, he’s very patient. How could he be any other way with the love of his life?

After that, it wasn’t too difficult to free you from your toxic thought patterns. The defenses you put up around your mind were flimsy, lines of code that Ray could crack with a flick of his elegant wrist. All he needed to do was teach you that Magenta is a paradise, a special place where you and he can live happily, regardless of the odds stacked against you both. He explained over and over again that he was here to guide you, to help you, to care for you, until, finally, he began to see his desired output.

“Good morning, my MC,” Ray greets you gently as he parts the curtains in your room. “How was your sleep?”

“Very good,” you breathe. Ray is always blown away by your sweet voice. You sit up in bed. “Thank you, Ray. I love you.”

You always greet him this way, but Ray finds himself blushing nevertheless. He’s so pleased that you love him, and so profoundly thankful that you feel the need to tell him every single day. He didn’t even ask you to do that, which is a multifold blessing. Not only did you retain some level of autonomy and self-awareness following the cleansing process (Ray was initially worried that this might not be the case), but you’ve chosen to combine your autonomy and your self-awareness in a way that expresses your love for Ray. 

“I love you, too,” he informs you, leaning down to pepper your face with kisses. “So much.”

You giggle, sounding so unrestrained and free. You’re definitely much happier than you were before your cleansing, even if you don’t always seem to know what’s going on in the world around you. Actually, perhaps it’s precisely because you don’t know what’s going on that you’re able to be so happy. Ray is a little bit jealous of your carefree existence, but if anybody deserves a life without worries, then of course, it’s his prince(ss).  

“Let’s get you dressed before breakfast,” Ray suggests, gently smoothing your hair down. “Any ideas for today, my sweet?” He sort of misses how creative you used to be, the small ways that you’d express yourself through your clothes and your opinions. But all of that is a small price to pay to ensure that you’re thriving at Ray’s side. 

“Cereal?” You suggest.

Ray chuckles. He can’t help it— you’re just so cute. “I meant ideas about your outfit, my love.” You’re so adorable, looking up at him with those big, empty eyes. “But of course you can have whatever you want for breakfast.” It’s going to be a hassle to get a hold of some cereal before then, and the believers won’t be pleased to scrap the elaborate buffet they’re preparing now, but Ray needs everything to be perfect for you. 

“Okay,” you beam at him, “Thank you.” 

“Let me tell the believers that you want to change the menu, and then I’ll be back to help pick out your clothes for you.” It’s not as though the elixir of salvation has robbed you of the ability to do this for yourself. You’re perfectly capable of picking a cute outfit and changing into it, but you allow Ray to do it for you because you actually want to spend time with him. “I shouldn’t be more than a few minutes.”

“Alright,” you agree. You’ve been so agreeable ever since Ray explained the purpose of this place to you. It’s hard to remember the time you clung to him, sobbing and begging him to leave Magenta with you— you were so confused then, but now, those problematic lines of code have been deleted from the script that runs through your head. 

Ray gently pets your hair, taking care not to cause you even the slightest harm. You lean eagerly into the touch; it’s clear that you’re neither afraid of him nor disgusted by him. Finally, he has everything he’s ever wanted— you’re here, and you love him, and he’s so close to finishing the task that the Savior has assigned him. So why does Ray’s life continue to feel so strangely empty?

[threerattsinatrenchcoat]

Writer Interview

Tagged by the fantastic @beesht, @commander-krios, and @coreene!

(just realized I forgot to tag people ummmm @lolliputian, @aviatorasharak @bloobluebloo)

When did you start writing?

So long ago that I no longer recall when it was. I also like arranging and playing with words. It's a crutch for me; my brain often feels aimless and chaotic. Writing lets me lock down my thoughts so I can quit chasing them.Expressing myself face-to-face has always been a struggle; I hide behind screens, sunglasses and masks. I'm happiest when people don't know what I look or sound like, and writing is the easiest way to talk with people without my physical-ness getting in the way.

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

Love horror, adore it. I'm not super great at writing it (yet!).

I also love heists. I keep trying to write a heist. It is not going well.

Finally, I love mythologies and folklore. I'm currently really into American Indigenous (specifically Inuit and I just got a book on Latin American mythologies) and Middle Eastern (specifically Iranian). Or, at least what I can find in English, from a reputable source. I would love to write about characters from these (Esfandiyār! Sedna!) but I'm a white American who is neither a part of those cultures nor educated enough to treat the subject with the respect it deserves.

But I will talk about them and encourage other people to learn because they're very cool.

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

Haha, I specifically don't read while I'm writing so I don't emulate anyone, but creativity doesn't happen in a vacuum so..

My writing style and content were influenced by the authors I grew up on: KA Applegate, Terry Pratchett, Diana Wynne Jones, Terry Brooks, Sergio Lukyanenko, Neil Gaiman, Francesca Lia Blake, Anne Bishop, Terry Goodkind, Arthur C Clarke, Laurel K Hamilton. Some of those authors I was far too young to read, a lot I don't read or like anymore, but they definitely shaped my fascination with urban fantasy, people living normal lives in weird worlds, people finding the weird in normal worlds, horror and humor and how they fit together, how both are most effective when they're just reality taken slightly off-kilter, and how small any single person's perspective is.

I've also been on Tumblr for about a billion years and have the Tumblr/millennial accent and I'm too tired to change it. 

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

On my phone, swipe keyboard, usually while commuting or waiting in line or standing over the stove or late at night when I can't sleep. Writing isn't a priority in my life right now, so I squeeze it into all the empty spaces.

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

I wrote about this here under "recharging when I'm not feeling creative" and here under "where do you get inspiration", but short answer is taking a complete break from creating anything, slogging through whatever is blocking me or interacting with my community.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

Shifting identities and what defines a person. I was raised on the idea that the "soul" is a person's core unifying self. I'm fascinated by this concept because if you take away "soul" as an easy answer, then what is a person? What makes me the same person as who I was twenty years ago? As me, age 2 months? If I lost all my memories, am I still me? What if I only lose one thing, like my driving force, or a fundamental belief, or if I recover from trauma or receive treatment for a chronic condition? What if I was uploaded into a machine? 

Anyway, I'm rambling, but I think I probably assign my identity to experience: memory, skills, hobbies, achievements and failures, and those are the concepts I've been exploring a lot.

What is your reason for writing?

I get itchy otherwise.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

I like knowing the exact parts people like, so whenever anyone quotes part of a fic, I get excited. I also love hearing people's theories or if they noticed any Easter eggs or references. My writing is so self indulgent sometimes and meeting people who also like it feels like meeting people who would like me? (That sounds really pathetic haha but I'm leaving it because it's honest).

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

Funny! And hopefully a bit creative. 

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Finishing a piece before I publish it, I guess. Writers have a right to bail on a piece for whatever reason, even for no reason. Writers have a right to publish incomplete work. But, personally, I'm a little proud that I put out completed pieces. 

I also try to write in a way that's uncomplicated. I avoid using oversized words, complex sentences, too many pronouns or vague references. Keep things simple, you know? I want to write things that people can read when they're distracted, or only have time for a few paragraphs, or if they aren't great readers.

Usually when I'm reading my head is already fried and I don't have the time or spoons to get assaulted by a thesaurus.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

I'm only influenced if I'm doing a piece for someone, or if I know a specific person will read it and I want to make them smile. Beyond that, it's all for me :)

How do you feel about your own writing?

It's a little trite, but that's okay. I love happy endings, so I aim for that. I also love the bizarre, absurd and ridiculous.

I do overuse this sentence format, where it's two clauses together. I'd like to fix that. And like all my paragraphs are three sentences, gross.

Anyway, I like it overall.

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 5,050 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria Warnings: Language, coerced marriage, gore, violence, sexuality, typical TWD stuff (recommended NC17+) A/N: This is part of a series! Find the previous parts on the Masterlist! Summary: Inside Sanctuary, Y/N tries to figure out where Daryl is and what his condition is as well as developing a plan to get him out.

Your name: submit What is this?

You forgot how much damn time was wasted in that place, just sitting around with the other wives trying to think of something to talk about or something to do with your time. You visited the library frequently but you couldn’t actually focus enough on the books to really read. It was like you just stared and turned the pages in some charade while your mind obsessed over where Daryl was… what state he was in… Days went by and they all felt the same, all tinged with you on edge, wracked with anxiety over finding him. You were worried you were going to lose track of how long you had been there. You were constantly looking for that golden opportunity and watching for danger at the same time. Constantly trying to scout out the building, spy on Dwight, and make sure no one was getting suspicious of you.

Finally, you managed to follow Dwight early one morning as he was delivering something to a cell. And you caught a glimpse of a huddled form as he shut the door, a man with long, wavy brown hair. You heart hammered in your chest as you pressed yourself back against the wall around the corner. Daryl. It was him. You knew it. You only needed to see him for a brief moment to know it was him. He was alive. He was alive.

But you didn’t breathe a sigh of relief for long. You knew what they were likely doing to him. You rushed back to your room and grabbed two slices of bread from your kitchenette. You laid some slices of cheese on each and tucked them into your bag, wrapped in some paper towel. You wished you could give him water, but you could only deliver whatever would fit in the small space beneath the door.

Daryl was sitting in the darkness, staring down at the dogfood sandwich Dwight had delivered him, his stomach turning but panging with hunger, when a soft noise suddenly drew his attention.

He looked to his left and saw that something was partially blocking the light beneath the door. He put his hand down on something soft. He felt it with his fingers and leaned down. Food. Someone had slipped in some bread and cheese beneath the door.

Was this a trick? Daryl stared at it for one moment before he picked it up and took an eager bite. It tasted like ambrosia to him. All he had been given was dogfood between thin slices of stale bread since he had been thrown in there. He’d never tasted something so wonderful in his life… but the question now was who the hell had slipped him the food?

And it continued. At least once a day, often more than that, something, sustenance, was slipped under his door. The archer was baffled, but he wasn’t about to question it.

You never dared to linger outside the door to try and talk to him. That was too risky. But you at least could make sure he had something to eat, something with some nutrients. You got creative with what you could make thin enough to fit—cutting apples into thin slices, vegetables, meat and cheese, cooked egg. Anything. But more than anything, you longed to see him, to inspect his condition, know how he was… to speak to him, to tell him that everything was going to be okay. Your heart felt broken, limping along in your chest out of habit, as you thought about how close you were to him and yet how far away.

One day you were gathered with the other wives and Negan in the early evening. It happened.

Dwight walked through, holding Daryl by the back of his filthy sweatshirt. Your heart actually stopped. You concentrated on keeping your face blank even while your heart stalled in your chest. It didn’t take more than two seconds before he saw you there, his blue eyes meeting yours. He actually tried to take another step in toward you, like he was being magnetically pulled and couldn’t help it but Dwight tugged back on him harshly. His brain didn’t comprehend what he was seeing at first. He really thought he was hallucinating it. Maybe he had finally cracked. You were so beautiful. He thought of you so often while he was in there, using his memories of you as an escape from the hell he was in. He thought of how you bit your bottom lip when you were concentrating. He thought of that goddamn smile you always gave him. He thought of how you scrunched your nose up at him when you were trying to pretend to be annoyed… But—no. This was something else. This was new. You were there. You were actually there.

You could see that Daryl had black eyes and cuts on his face, bruises. He’d been beat up and he was filthy, but you were relieved to see that he was mostly whole. But he looked broken, somewhat defeated, his shoulders hanging on his frame, so unlike the man you had come to know, except when you caught his eyes… there was a raging inferno there. The sight of you in that room, the realization that you had “given” yourself to Negan, had fanned it. He felt like he could be sick right then and there, just double over and vomit. You managed to shake your head ever so slightly as you held his eyes, hoping he knew that you meant he shouldn’t give away his connection to you. It took everything in him not to just start throwing punches.

Daryl’s mind was spinning. What the hell had happened? How had you come to be there? Had Negan captured you? Had he taken you forcefully? Had he simply convinced you in exchange for some benefit to the group, to Alexandria? How could you possibly be there, with him? And not just there, not just in the Sanctuary. You were one of his wives. The thought of Negan touching you, his hands on you, kissing you… doing more, whatever he wanted… especially having seen the terror in your eyes when you had told him about your past. It was too much. Daryl clenched his jaw, biting down hard and trying to control his breathing, his expression, trying to prevent his hands from balling into fists.

“There he is!” Negan exclaimed with a smile, standing up from his place in an armchair where he was receiving a shoulder massage from his wife, Frankie. “Daryl! How’s it hangin’? Don’t answer that. Don’t care,” he said with a laugh. “Dwight, I think you should take Daryl down for some fence duty. He’s been in time-out in his hole for long enough as punishment for that hilarious escape attempt. Oh—Daryl. You haven’t met my wife Y/N before. Ya see, Y/N here escaped. Just like old Dwighty boy there and Sherry. We’re gonna call that temporary insanity, right, baby?” He shot a look at you. “But she. came. back. Because she realized that there is no better place to be than here.” Negan walked over to where you were standing against the wall. “And all is forgiven,” he said softly. He reached one hand around to your lower back and tugged you against him. He slid his other hand into your hair and kissed you, deeply, heatedly… his tongue exploring your mouth and his hands exploring your body. And Daryl had to avert his eyes. He couldn’t look. He felt bile rising up into his throat. He was worried Dwight would feel him trembling. Anger was bubbling in his chest at a rolling boil. He imagined ripping Negan off you and beating him into the ground… but he had to just stand there. He had to just let it happen. Finally, Negan broke apart from you and smoothed a thumb over your cheek as he clasped your face, unmistakable desire in his eyes. When he looked back at Dwight and Daryl, his eyes were twinkling and there was a smile on his face. “Ya see, Daryl? Just stop fighting it! And your life will get so much cooler!” He laughed and waved a hand to dismiss him and Dwight tugged him out.

You stood there with your chest heaving, staring down at your shoes, thinking only of the condition Daryl seemed to be in. Your heart was breaking and you had to choke down a swelling of nausea which was becoming all too familiar, almost a constant. If you survived this, you were sure you were going to have an ulcer.

Negan soon left with Frankie announcing that he desperately needed one of her full body massages and you felt as if you could collapse with relief that you wouldn’t have to endure him that night. As soon as he was out of the room, you went to the bar and leaned on it, staring vacantly at the wall. You sensed someone beside you suddenly and looked up to see Sherry. She glanced over her shoulder, clearly making sure Negan was really gone and that no one else was close enough to overhear.

“You know him,” she said quietly.

Your eyes snapped over to her in surprise. “What?”

She studied your expression. “It’s alright. I won’t say anything. And it wasn’t you who gave it away,” she said.

Your brow furrowed in confusion as you tried to guess at her meaning. “What are you—”

“I saw the look in his eyes when he saw you. His face when Negan kissed you. And how he was looking at you when your eyes were elsewhere…” She looked down at her hands sadly. “It’s how D sometimes looks at me,” she said, lighting up a cigarette and blowing out a cloud of smoke up toward the pendent lights over the bar. “Or, maybe, how he used to. How do you know him?” she asked.

You thought you had to have misheard her. What she was implying was that Daryl… “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, wrapping your hands around your empty drink glass.

She nodded. “You do. But it’s alright.” She sighed and studied your face again. “He helped us.”

Now your eyes met hers. She took another long drag on her cigarette. “When D and I escaped with Tina. He helped us even after we tied him up, threatened to kill him… he helped us. And we screwed him,” she said softly. You could tell this was weighing on her heavily. Her face contorted a little with emotion.

You didn’t say anything. What was there to say? You still wanted to kill Dwight for what he’d done, what he was doing to Daryl. Sherry’s remorse didn’t change that.

That night, when you got back to your room, you were sick in the toilet and sat on the floor, curled up, crying until you had nothing left. Eventually, the pain faded into numbness and you turned the shower on as hot as you could stand it and stood beneath the jet of water for a long time.

_ _ _ _ _ _

“Joey!” you called, smiling widely at him as he came toward you down the hall. “I have a favor to ask you. That is, unless you’re too busy,” you said, making sure you batted your eyelashes at him.

“N—no. I was just—I’m not too busy. What is it?” he asked eagerly.

“Well, I wanted to move around some of the furniture in the seating area in my room but I just can’t do it myself. Would you mind helping me? It doesn’t have to be now,” you said, stepping closer to him and reaching out to smooth the collar of his button-up shirt.

He gulped and seemed stunned, unable to talk for a moment. “I—I—I can help you with that now,” he stuttered out.

You grinned widely at him. “Oh, thank you so much! Just this way,” you said, leading the way back to your room. It was working. You needed to turn up the heat a little bit. You wanted to keep him off-balance, oblivious, distracted. You stepped inside and gently closed the door behind him after he entered. He was nervously shifting his weight, his eyes fixed on you. “I hope this doesn’t make you uncomfortable,” you said softly. “Being in my bedroom. Just don’t say anything to Negan or he’ll get jealous,” you said, winking. You went over to the bed and sat down, reaching down and pulling off your high heels, making sure to move slowly. You tossed them to the floor and straightened up, closing your eyes and rolling your neck from one side to the other, sliding a hand down the side of your neck. “Mmm. Those heels are torture,” you murmured.

He cleared his throat, wide-eyes still staring at you like he’d never seen a woman before.

You smiled at him and hopped off the bed. “Thanks again for doing this,” you said. “If you could just move that couch over there, and switch the chair and the end table I think it will be perfect.”

Fat Joey nodded rapidly and started trying to heave the couch to one side. He was huffing and puffing, becoming a bit red in the face when you slid in close next to him, bending down so your face was right next to his and pressing your hands onto the arm of the couch that he was pushing on, making sure to brush your finger against his. “I bet we can do it together,” you said, cultivating a dewy expression on your face.

“W—What?”

You giggled and rolled your eyes. “Move the couch, silly!” you said, playfully hitting him on the arm. God, even pretending to be this vapid was making you hate yourself.

“R—right. Yeah.”

You both pushed again and when the couch finally started to move, you pretended to slip on your bare feet and brushed against him as you slid to the floor, laughing. He didn’t feel that you had swiped his set of keys as you fell.

“I’m such a clutz!” you said, taking his hand as he helped you to your feet.

“Are you alright? Your ankle—do you need to go see the doctor?” he asked urgently.

You waved him off, rubbing your ankle and flexing your foot. “I’m fine. I’m completely fine. But I think we’ll take the universe’s hint and just leave the furniture the way it is,” you said with a laugh, again catching his eyes and smiling. “Thanks anyway, Joey. I do appreciate it.”

“Oh—okay. Yeah. Sure. Anytime. Let me know if you ever need anything.” You smiled at him and batted your eyelashes one more time before he left. As soon as the door was closed, you rushed to it and locked it.

You withdrew your hand from your pocket, staring down in disbelief at the wad of keys in your palm.

You collapsed backwards onto the bed and clutched them so tightly they cut into your hand.

And then more waiting. Based on the laps you’d been doing around the building late at night, you knew Dwight wouldn’t sleep, but he would be ensconced in his room with the television up loud. And you knew who else was on duty, made sure it was the pair of guards who usually fell asleep at their posts by 3 am.

The upper floors of the Sanctuary were quiet as you slipped out of your room. You hugged the wall, one hand in your pocket, clutching the keys, and the other on the strap of the small bag you had slung over your shoulder. You got to the first corner and peeked around. Empty. You turned. You slipped past Dwight’s door, glancing back over your shoulder in paranoia, half-sure he was somehow going to just know what you were up to.

A few more anxious moments passed as you slipped through the halls but you finally arrived at the door. You were so close. You had spied on Dwight enough to make sure you knew when he usually checked on Daryl. Night was a safe bet. There were fewer guards on duty on the upper floors at night. Most of them were pulled off for the factory floor and perimeter or were otherwise off-duty.

Your heart was pounding so loud you thought half the floor would hear it.

You withdrew the keys as quietly as you could. At first, when you had swiped them, you wondered exactly how you would know which key was the right one—there were too many to try each. You’d certainly be caught if you had to be in the hall that long, fitting every key on the ring into the keyhole. But Fat Joey had done the work for you again.

Apparently, he had a hard time remembering which key went to what, and so he had labeled them. The one to the door of Daryl’s cell was labeled with a #2, matching the number on the door. You were almost lightheaded as you slipped the key into the lock as silently as possible.

Inside, Daryl shot awake where he was huddled in the corner, dozing purely out of sheer exhaustion. He heard the key sliding in and the click of the pins. His heart was immediately pounding wondering what new hell was in store for him now. He had no concept of time in the blackness they kept him in. He assumed it was morning and that Dwight would appear and chuck a dog food sandwich at him like he always did.

But something about the way the key had sounded when it went in was odd… and so was the silent pause before the door handle started to turn excruciatingly slowly.

Daryl steeled himself for whatever or whoever was coming, pressing his back hard against the wall behind him, staring into the darkness, his arms pressed tightly across himself protectively. In keeping with the strangeness, the door began to open at a snail’s pace. Daryl squinted as the dim light in the hallway filtered in. He had a hand up to shield his eyes when the crack revealed you kneeling on the other side of the door. Your face desperate and frantic as you looked in at him.

Daryl’s jaw dropped open and his chest heaved as he took in shuddering breaths, staring in disbelief that you were there in front of him, so close and opening the door of that hellhole. Alone. Just you.

You slipped through the door and into his cell, closing the door softly behind you and returning it to darkness. You could hear Daryl’s ragged breathing in the pitch blackness. Before he could say anything, you grabbed onto him. You threw your arms around him where he was cowered on the floor, kneeling in front of him. You pulled his head against you and he pressed it into the crook of your neck. He didn’t resist. He fell into you. You pressed your hand gently to the back of his head, smoothing his hair. “Daryl…” you whispered to him. “Daryl. You’re okay. Thank God. You’re okay.” You whispered it over and over like a mantra. His name leaving your lips was maybe the most wonderful thing he had ever heard. You could feel him trembling, hear his shuddering breaths, feel the wetness of his tears falling against you. “It’s ok. It’s alright. I’m right here. It’s gonna be okay.” You were struggling to hold back your own tears. His hands, which had been tightly crossed over his chest flew around you and clung to you, smoothing over your back and feeling every angle of your shoulder blades, the curve of your spine, tangling his fingers into the ends of your silky hair as much as he dared, clutching to you. He again really thought perhaps he’d finally cracked and maybe this wasn’t happening at all, but your hands found the sides of his face in the darkness, even then wiping his tears gently with your thumbs, so light it could have been a breeze, and it rooted him in reality. This was real. He was reeling with the implications. “Just—just a moment. I’ve got—I brought—”

You dug a hand into the bag you had brought with you and pulled out a towel, which you laid across the bottom of the door to block the light from the next item you retrieved from your bag. You pulled out a small camping lantern and turned it on. The sight of you immediately brought Daryl to tears again and for a moment you just looked—you just looked and looked at each other. You grabbed his face in your hands again, being careful to be gentle and mindful of the bruises and cuts. His eyes closed at your touch. He’d had no physical contact with anyone that wasn’t just sheer violence since he’d been taken. Your hands on him were like medicine and he felt ten times stronger instantly. You shut your eyes too and pressed your forehead against his. “It’s okay. It’s alright,” you breathed. His hands clutched to your shoulders and his chest heaved again with shuddering breaths. “Daryl…” You pulled back from him with some effort and looked into his face again. You brushed his hair away from his cheeks. It was hanging in dirty strands, sticking to the wetness left from his tears.

That was when Daryl’s shock waned and he felt the rising creep of humiliation, embarrassment, guilt… God, you looked so beautiful, even there in that fucking hole by the light of a tiny, shitty lantern and he was a filthy disaster. He was like trash someone had discarded… and yet you were touching him with kindness and affection, no care for how dirty he was—he was overwhelmed again and couldn’t meet your eyes any longer. He was struggling with never wanting to look away from you but also feeling unable to hold your gaze.

You saw the change happen and smoothed your hands down his arms. You turned your attention back to your bag and pulled out a canteen full of water for him. “Go slow, okay?” you said, as he desperately grabbed it and drank deeply. “And here,” you pulled out a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a cut-up apple. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t get more this evening without drawing attention but—”

He hadn’t said a word to you yet and his voice was hoarse from disuse. In that place he would go days without speaking, maybe longer even… He cleared his throat and tried to swallow the scratchy feeling.

“This is—more than enough,” he rasped, hungrily devouring your offerings. “You’re the one who’s been slippin’ me food.”

You nodded.

“Ya shouldn’t. Ya could get caught.” You watched him with a sad smile and moved beside him so you could press against him better without his bent knees in the way. You just needed to touch him, to remind him that there was more than this place, to show him you were there for him. To prove this was real, to him and to yourself. Your shoulders were pressed together.

He kept stealing tiny glances over at you while he ate and you could practically hear the wheels in his head turning. When he had finished eating and drinking, he fidgeted and stretched his legs out in front of him. You could tell he was purposely not looking at you. You knew something was on his mind and that he was working up to speaking it aloud. Finally, he did.

“What happened? How are—why are ya here?” he asked. “Did they find you in Alexandria? Did—how?”

You studied his expression. He turned his blue eyes to you again and you saw worry and fear in them. “No. They don’t know that I have any connection to Alexandria, and it needs to stay that way. We don’t need to give them any more leverage than they already have.”

“Then, how?” he asked again.

You averted your eyes away from him now. You knew he wouldn’t take the next bit of news well. “I—I came back. I told Negan I made a mistake running away and that I wanted to be here.”

A shadow darkened his face. “What did he do to ya?” His chest was heaving again, this time in anger. His eyes were whirring over every inch of you that he could see, looking for evidence that you were hurt.

“Nothing. He—he didn’t do anything.” You stared down at your hands.

“Why are ya here? Why d’you come? After everythin’ ya told me—” His questions were desperate.

Your brow flickered down momentarily in confusion that he even had to ask that question. “I came to get you out.” Your eyes searching his face in disbelief that he didn’t know. You sat up on your heels, kneeling beside him again. “Daryl, did you really think we would just leave you here? Did you really think I would? I know what happens in this place.” He had a tortured expression on his face. “Nah. Not like this. Ya gotta go. Ya gotta get out. You can’t be—ya can’t let him—” His face screwed up as the image of you kissing Negan flashed in his mind. He knew what you being his ‘wife’ meant. “Nah. It ain’t worth it,” he argued harshly, his voice raspy. “It ain’t worth that.”

“Yes, it is,” you said forcefully. “Don’t you get it? You are worth it.” Daryl could see tears glistening in your eyes again but you blinked them away. “I’m not leaving you in here. It’s done, Daryl. It’s done. I’m already here.” The muscle in his jaw twitched as he clenched his teeth. “Hey. Look at me,” you said. His eyes found yours again and you studied his face, reaching out gently to clasp it again. You traced a finger along his jaw, grazing lightly over the stubble there. “I’m getting you out of here.” The feeling of your hands on him was like a tonic for all his pain.

He looked away, ducking his head in that way that was so Daryl. You cleared your throat and dropped your hand to his arm. “Alright. Tell me. How are you? Rick said you were shot or something… And you’re obviously beat up.”

“M’fine,” he said. “Doctor’s been treatin’ me.”

“Let me see.”

Daryl begrudgingly pulled down the neck of his sweatshirt and you lifted the gauze pad taped on his chest to look at the wound. It looked okay. No infection. You smoothed the bandage back over it and nodded. You adjusted his sweatshirt and pressed your hand flatly against his chest. You could feel his heart beating hard beneath your fingers. Daryl felt warmth spreading out from your touch. You examined the bruises on his face and you knew there were surely worse ones beneath his clothes. “Are you hurting? I found some painkillers,” you said, digging in your bag. His hand closed gently on your wrist.

“M’fine. Ya should go before we get caught.”

You didn’t want to leave him. The last thing you wanted to do was return him to being alone in the darkness there. He could read it on your face.

“S’okay. Just—just seein’ ya, talkin’ to ya is enough,” he said, so quietly you almost didn’t hear it.

You threw your arms around him one more time, pressing him into you. His hands were strong against your back, stronger even than they had been when you first hugged him, and you squeezed your eyes shut. As you pulled away, you smoothed your hands over his hair and brushed it away from his face one more time. You clasped his face and pressed a kiss to his forehead and another to his cheek. Daryl reeled at the action before you tore yourself away from him. He felt speechless. He knew he was a complete mess. It wasn’t like they were letting him bathe or clean up regularly… And still you had just pressed your soft lips to his skin. You were brushing his dirty hair aside. “Okay,” you nodded, gathering up what was left of what you had brought him. “I’m working on a plan to get you out. But it’s going to take me a little time. Just—just hang in there. Don’t do anything rash. I need you in one piece.”

“Where’d ya get the key?”

You held up the ring of keys and showed him. “Keys. All of them.” Daryl’s brow contracted with worry. “Nothing to worry about it. I pinched them off of Fat Joey. I think he has a crush on me,” you murmured, rolling your eyes. “He’s too scared and too incompetent to know. He probably just thinks he lost them and I’m guessing he won’t tell anybody because he’s afraid of what will happen if he admits it.”

Daryl nodded. “Alright.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow if I can.”

“Nah, don’t—”

“I’m coming, Daryl, and you can’t stop me.” You gave him one last look and clicked off the lantern, grabbing the towel you had used to block the light and stuffing it back into your bag. He heard you shuffling in the dark and then saw the expanding sliver of light grow before it was blocked out as you left. You glanced over at him once more as you left, a sad smile on your face. The door shut quietly behind you and he heard the key turn in the lock.

His cell had never felt so empty, so dark, or so silent.

[kumkaniudaku]

HABERDASHERY

I haven’t written anything in months, but found inspiration in this. Sorry if it’s trash. Trying to get back in a groove.

The thoughts wouldn’t stop their torture.

Their unwelcome screaming inside the walls of Rafael’s tired mind kept him glued to scorching bed sheets while he tried to time the quiet whoosh of the oscillating fan to the snoring you swore didn’t exist.

Usually, he’d be giddy at this hour with the faint glow of his phone screen illuminating a pensive expression or a smile as a thank you for a thought that had managed to escape him all day. Late night was Rafael’s playground, full of untapped creative gold mines that work snatched from him while the sun sat high. But now, regret and missed opportunities reminded him just how unprepared he was for those big ideas he’d tricked himself into believing.

“Hey.” He whispered once and then again.

No answer. Unlike him, you had rest to keep you occupied when the world slowed to a silent creep.

Rafael continued to stare at the ceiling until his legs acted under their own volition to swing over the bed and carry him into the hallway. Moonlight lit his path to the kitchen. His hands acted as antennas as he searched for the refrigerator’s handle until they found their target. A sigh of relief sounded louder than he intended once the cool air hit his bare torso. Even if his thoughts had chosen to spare him, the lack of air conditioning during an unseasonably warm California night was there as a one-two punch.

Cartons of takeout and an assortment of green juices caught Rafael’s eye as he scanned the shelves for something to occupy his time. Water could cure the issue of his body temperature climbing to heat stroke levels, but would do nothing for the grief clouding his brain. That was a job for his old friend, whiskey.

Abandoning the fridge, Rafael set off for the coveted liquor cabinet in the other room. The object of his desire sat glittering in the only sliver of light through the curtain like a lighthouse in a storm. Under normal circumstances, he’d take the bottle directly to his lips, but rules were rules and retribution was best avoided by listening to the undisputed leader of the house. So, he carefully removed a glass from the makeshift bar before reaching into his least favorite drawer for his least favorite coping mechanism.

Sliding open the back door for a moment alone felt like stepping into Narnia. Rafael took a second to breathe in deep, inhaling the scent of incoming rain and fresh potting soil from another one of your plant projects. A shot of his favorite whiskey awakened his sense of taste before heat filled his throat and chest. Afraid to cough and disturb the harmony indoors, he stifled his reaction with a shaky deep breath.

“Shit,” Rafael panted as he poured more amber liquid into his glass. “Good fucking morning to you, too.”

His second sip came with much more ease, opening the door for more until the glass was empty for another round. The soundtrack to 2 AM kept Rafael company while he stared into the darkness to confront his thoughts.

Imposter syndrome had Rafael in a vice grip. Days were beginning to turn into weeks and months while he waited on a studio decision to let his most treasured work of art continue or end before he could paint the entire picture. He wondered if he could’ve made a different decision with shot choices or fine tuned a few scenes before presenting his heart to the public. Maybe, if he’d taken more time in the editing bay instead of cutting nights short to make it home for dinner, the entire world could see the story that he and the team worked so hard to tell.

A battle of what if and maybe invaded his quiet moments with no outlet, leaving him like a shaken bottle of anxiety ready to erupt at any moment.

Rafael tried to ignore the weight in his pocket by listening to the rhythmic beeping of some vehicle in the distance. When that faded, he bounced his leg in time to a new song he planned to record when he had a free moment. But, the thoughts returned and the devil at his side began to convince him that the only way out was through a few pulls of nicotine.

Cursing to himself, Rafael pulled the forbidden fruit out of his pajama pants and plucked a cigarette from the almost empty carton. When he reached over to the table beside him for a lighter, he came up empty handed. A frantic search party in his pocket produced similar results.

He groaned to himself and tugged at the hair falling over his forehead. “I can’t even fuckin’ smoke right.”

“I mean, if you would’ve lit that shit without a lighter, I would’ve been impressed.”

The sound of your voice startled Rafael enough for him to visibly jump out of his seat before hanging his head.

“I didn’t wake you did I?”

“No,” you answered while walking closer and gesturing for the cigarette. “Can I hang out with you?”

You didn’t wait for Rafael’s response and he didn’t protest when you helped place the cigarette between his lips. He held it steady in anticipation of the spark you provided with the light in your hands. His eyes closed to experience the first drag he’d had in months only to open when the scrape of metal across concrete interrupted his personal paradise. When he looked over, you offered a small smile.

“I’m gonna start from the top, okay. Let me know when it’s too much.”

“Alright,” you agreed before sliding his glass of whiskey from his hands to take a sip. “I’m listening.”

[animeyanderelover]

Hello again ! Just had to say the last prompt you did of Kurapika and poetry writer s/o with yandere prompt 44 exceeded my mental expectations and was by far one off the most beautiful yet tragic kurapika yandere pieces I've come across on all sites. Feel proud of your creative genius and lovely writing. If you have the time do you think you could do one where s/o is Chrollo's lover who plans to kill Kurapika he catches her only to fall. I think it go great with prompt 22 .

I’m glad you liked it! But this one is a lot rougher because I believe Kurapika wouldn’t go easy on a darling who’s in love with Chrollo. I needed to change this a bit since I don’t believe Kurapika would instantly fall for the s/o the moment he sees them. It would be more like a small sparkle.

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, manipulation, mentioning of violence

Prompt 22: “I don’t know if I should be angry or turned on.”

Why was he suddenly acting like this? You didn’t know, but it made all the alarm bells in your mind ring so loud that it hurt your head. Why was your captor, the one who had killed two of the troupe members, the one who had ripped Chrollo away from your reach, suddenly acting so to you? He had stopped hurting you, had stopped starving you, had stopped treating you like a criminal. You weren’t exactly a criminal, but you weren’t exactly innocent either since you were dating one of the most dangerous men in this world. Chrollo Lucifer. You knew that he wasn’t exactly the best boyfriend since he was most of the time very busy, but he tried. And he was so charming, so gentle, so amazing. An isolated part of your brain still screamed at you for being so foolish to be in a relationship with a criminal who only cared for himself and the troupe. But you had locked those thoughts far away in your brain so that they were by now only a faint echo somewhere in the depths of your brain. He loved you, you knew he did! In his own way. That was what had led you to the most stupid decision you could have ever made in your life. After you had heard of the incident in Yorknew City you had instantly tried to get in contact with Chrollo, had tried to call him or get the members to tell you where he was. But they didn’t know either or if they knew, didn’t tell you. They only told you what had happened, how a single man had managed to damage the troupe so significantly. And you had let yourself get blinded by rage.

You had collected informations about the chainuser, trying to find out as much as possible all whilst tracking him down. And you needed to admit, he was good. Even you with all your contacts had needed months until you had finally found his current location. What had made you feel so confident at that time? You were strong, Chrollo had trained you after all, but what had made you thought that you would win at that time? You had been about to face the guy who had killed Uvogin, the strongest of the troupe, Pakunoda, the mindreader of the troupe, and had made sure that Chrollo, the boss of the troupe, wouldn’t be able to go anywhere near the other members again. You knew what would happen if he would try to get in contact with them. He would die, the chain this guy had used on him would crush his heart as soon as the conditions he had made were broken. But you weren’t a troupe member! You could contact him! So why did he refuse to?! Were it these thoughts that had clouded your judgement? Keeping you from seeing the harsh reality? You didn’t know what it was, you only knew that you had lost to this Kurapika and that he had captured you afterwards. You guessed you could be glad that he hadn’t killed you yet. Kurapika wasn’t dumb. He had informed himself well before attacking the troupe and somehow knew that you were involved with them, but weren’t a member. And these last few months he had tried to get you to talk, starving you, threatening you and much more. But you had kept your mouth shut. You were surprised that he hadn’t used the same move he had used on Chrollo. Why didn’t he? Did he knew that you would rather die then tell him? But he didn’t care when he did it with the other three, so what made you so special?

But since a few days he had stopped it. The starving. The violence. The screaming. He had put a stop to it all. Instead he had suddenly started to care for your health and well-being. He still kept a sharp eye on you and you knew from previous attempts that he was ready to hurt you again if you tried anything. But why the sudden change of mind? Even now, as you were sitting on the bed in the room he had moved you in, this question was playing without break in your mind. It didn’t help much that Kurapiks was with you in the room and staring at you. The only thing you were thankful for was that his eyes had their normal color and weren’t glowing in that spooky red. But it was still very unsettling. “Are we gonna do this again? You just staring at me and hoping I’ll tell you what relationship I have exactly with the Phantom Troupe only for me to give you the silent treatment?”, you asked, trying to not make it sound to obvious that you were very nervous, but there was still a trace of it audible in your voice. He didn’t say anything, just continuing to stare at you. You didn’t know why, but he seemed conflicted. He looked at you as if your presence would give him the answer to a very hard question. One that seemed to haunt him judging by his facial expression.

“What are you looking at?”, you scoffed and turned around to at least try to ignore his stare, but even when you weren’t directly looking at him you could feel how he let his eyes roam over your body, searching for something that he couldn’t see with his eyes. “Who are you?” It wasn’t the first time he had asked you this question, but it sounded different. When you glanced back you could see that he had a confused expression on his face, but it also looked a bit...What was the right word? Dreamy? Yes, that was it. He looked with you with this dreamy and nearly adoring gaze. This freaked you out enough so that you instantly turned around to keep an eye on him. Upon seeing your expression he seemed to snap out of his dazzled state. He blinked confused, letting his gaze wander to the ground where it stayed for a few moments. And once again this conflicted look crossed his face. You asked yourself what was going on in his head right now. “May I ask you a question?” You raised one of your eyebrows. Since when did he ask you if he could question you? “Go ahead.” “You attacked me because you have a personal grudge against me. This means you must have a close relationship with them or at least one of the members.” What was he getting at? “Why do you care so much for them? They’re criminals, thieves, heartless killer. I don’t understand it. How could anybody care for such monsters?”

You felt insulted that he called them this, but you were more surprised by his question. He suddenly asked you why you chose to trust and care of them instead of trying to force you to tell him what you knew about them. You were for a few moments dumbfounded. Why did you choose to care for them? What had led you to make them so important in your life that you even went as far as trying to kill someone for them? “I...I guess it’s because I saw that they are only humans as well. I know that what they do is wrong. They aren’t innocent angels and I don’t agree with what they’re doing. I’m not that heartless. But I also saw that they have a different side. There’s still hope in them. That’s what makes me care. The knowledge that even in the darkest of people’s heart there’s still a glimmer of humanity. I hope that I can help them with their pain.” You turned around to Kurapika who was looking at you with a surprised expression. “I know what they did to your clan. So I can understand why you want to kill them. But you think of them as heartless monsters. They aren’t. They all have their own motives for doing what they do and have done just like you. Just like I had my motives of wanting to kill you. But I’ve come to realize that you aren’t that different from them.” “You think I am anything like them?” His voice sounded strained. He obviously couldn’t bear the thought of being compared to the people he despised the most. “Yes. All of you are driven by your own dreams and motives. And in order to reach them you’re ready to become murders and give temporarily up your humanity. That is what I respect and fear the most on you all.”

He became quiet, your words repeating itself in his mind. He couldn’t understand it. Why would you compare him to them? He wasn’t anything like them. “How can you talk so calmly about that? They’ve killed so many innocent lifes! I only want to kill them because the world doesn’t need such scum!” He sounded clearly angry and his eyes had started to change color. But it was this almost helpless look of confusion he had on his face that made you pity him. He was a poor boy who desperately clutched on the belief that he did the right thing. “You really believe that?” He flinched when hearing your didactic voice. “You just want revenge for your clan. But killing the troupe won’t bring you any peace. You’re selfish if you think that. Revenge will only bring you emptiness. The moment you kill for your own egotistical desires you become someone who is scum. I guess that means I am too since I wanted to kill you too because a part of me thought I would feel better if I would do it. You think you do the world a favor by doing this? Or are you just trying to justify that you’re about to become the same monster they are?” From the corner of your eyes you noticed that he had started to shake. “You think you do it for the sake of humanity? You think that you’re some kind of avenger? You do it only for yourself. That makes you no different from them. I...I feel bad for you because you try to tell yourself that you’re different.”

“You’re wrong!” Suddenly he stood right in front of you and grabbed you by your shoulders. “I’m not like them! I’m different!” His eyes were glowing brightly, but for the first time he didn’t look scary whilst looking at you with them. There was no disgust or hate in them like there normally always was. He didn’t look at you like you were some sort of trash. He looked sad. Desperate. Confused. Heartbroken. Angry. In denial. “They just manipulated you into thinking that way! Whatever relationship you have with them, they just use you! As soon as they don’t need you anymore they’ll kill you!” By now he was shaking you as if trying to wake you up and make you realize that he was right. “Kurapika! You don’t know anything about them! I know them better than anyone else! They would never hurt me! Chrollo would never hurt me! He loves me!” The moment after this words had left your lips he instantly stopped shaking you. “Chrollo?!” You froze when you realized what you had just done. No! Stupid, stupid, stupid! How could you have been so careless?! You had gotten carried away because of your more emotional talk with Kurapika.

“So that’s it.” You couldn’t help, but shiver when you heard his voice. “That’s your relationship with the troupe. You...you’re together with him.” His face had twisted into a mask of extremely conflicted emotions. His grip on your shoulders tightened. “Kurapika! You hurt me!”, you yelled and tried to rip his hands off from your shoulders. “I don’t know if I should be angry or turned on.” You froze abruptly when you heard those words falling from his lips, the tone he used to say them making you feel sick. He sounded so...You couldn’t describe it with a word. Dark? Sinister? Your eyes moved to look at his face and you felt sweat starting to form on your forehead. There was something, a feeling, burning inside his eyes. But you couldn’t exactly put your fingers around what it was. “You really think he loves you?” His voice sounded strict and cold. “Of course I do!”, you answered back, fear starting to become visible on your face. “You’re so gullible.” He had started to talk in a sickenly sweet tone, as if speaking to a naive little child. “Do you really think that someone like him would ever be able to love someone? He only uses people for his own interests. Whatever he told you, it was all an act. And you must know that too. Or did he already manipulate you that badly?”

His words that he cooed at you scared you, your doubts that you had pushed away and locked up in a cage starting to get louder now that someone had spoken them out loud. “Y-you’re just lying!” Why were you sputtering? Chrollo loved you, right? “Don’t pretend like you believe that. I can see the hesitation and doubts on your face. I met him only once in real person. But that was enough for me to see what kind of person he really is. Someone who doesn’t care for anyone except himself and the troupe. Do you really believe that he has the space to love someone in his heart? I don’t think so.” Don’t listen to him! He was lying! He was just trying to make you doubt Chrollo. “No! You’re the one who is lying! You don’t know anything about Chrollo or his heart! He loves me! I’m not someone who he uses! What do you think you’re doing?! Who gives you the right to judge him?! You’re the heartless monster here! Trying to manipulate me into thinking that Chrollo doesn’t love me! But he does and I love him as well!” You sounded pathetic. Now you were the one in denial, trying to push your steadily growing doubts away. He was most of the time busy, leaving you on your own. You knew that he often charmed other people to get what he wanted, toying with their emotions. But you were different, weren’t you?

But before you could continue to try to convince yourself by yelling at him you were suddenly interrupted by a warm pair of lips locking themselves with yours. Your eyes widened and you wanted to pull away, but Kurapika grabbed the back of your neck and kept you in place. You couldn’t do more than stare at him in shock. What was he doing?! When he pulled away he had again this look from before in his eyes. This dreamingly haze covering his eyes. And suddenly it hit you. The reason why he had stopped treating you so harshly. The reason why he wanted you to convince you so badly that the troupe was evil and that he was doing the right thing. The reason why he was currently talking you into believing that Chrollo only used you. He loved you! “You know, it’s kind of ironic.”, Kurapika mumbled whilst pulling you closer to him. “The same man who took everything I ever loved from me gave me someone new I can treasure and protect. And this time I’ll make sure that I won’t lose you as well. I’ll protect you from the troupe and Chrollo. I’ll help you realizing that they only used you.” The look in his eyes could only be described as completely helplessly lovesick. “I’ll show you what real love is like.”, he mumbled before locking his lips once again with yours. And in that moment you knew that he would never let you go again, would never let you see Chrollo again. What had you done?

[kemetic-dreams]

A TRADITIONAL AFRICAN SHAMAN EXPLAINS WHY PILLS CAN NEVER CURE DEPRESSION OR PTSD

There is no way of knowing the full impact that depression, anxiety and PTSD have on our society and culture, but we do know that the prescribed solution of pharmaceuticals is not working to alleviate this problem.

The first antidepressant drug, an MOAI inhibitor, was developed in the 1950’s and originally used in the treatment of tuberculosis. In the 19080’s, the first SSRI inhibitor was developed, and today there are now 5 classes of antidepressants, which includes at least 32 different brand name drugs

More Americans than ever take antidepressants and anti-anxiety medications, and according to a recent study, some 86% of people today will have met the criteria for at least two psychiatric diagnoses by the time they reach 45.

More drugs, more diagnoses, and more people dependent on doctors, pharmacies and pills. Something is not working.

Contrast this paradigm with traditional shamanism, in which shamans, working as healers, use plant medicines to diagnose the spiritual health of a person, and heal them permanently with ancient methods that still baffle modern science.

Of the shamanic plant medicines, iboga is particularly powerful at helping people to overcome PTSD, depression and anxiety. Its efficacy cannot be explained in scientific terms, which reduces chronic emotional and mental health issues down to brain chemistry, looking at the human being as a machine, then intervenes with chemicals.

This is categorically different than the work of shamanism, which generally views such mental health conditions as spiritual matters, and seeks to repair a person’s spirit from within.

Traditional African shaman Moughenda Mikala points out in a recent interview, pills simply cannot address the root causes of such problems.

“When we are talking about trauma, depression, and PTSD, they are not physical. Now days people need to think further… to understand that anything that is not physical is difficult… someone has to know where to look.” ~Moughenda Mikala, Bwiti Life

As a 10th generation Bwiti shaman working with an ancient plant medicine, Mikala uses traditional shamanic methods to assess and heal people on a spiritual level, which addresses the roots of mental health problems rather than attempting only to manage the symptoms of such disorders.

“The way I handle these issues, or with my guests coming to me, I don’t focus on the physical level, because trauma… mainly affects the mind, and that’s what we’re talking about, the mind being a spiritual issue. So, the way I address that, I will launch someone on a psycho-spiritual journey… and before the spycho-spiritual journey, I will launch them on a psycho-detox.”

Mikala is referring to ceremonies, in which participants ingest the alkaloid rich root bark of the iboga shrub, which triggers a body trance and sets off an inward psychological journey. The psycho-detox is very common with first-time Western participants, and typically causes the participant to enter a foggy, trance-like state for hours where they begin to see from within the workings of their mind, including thought patterns and belief systems.

The psycho-spiritual journey Mikala mentions is a second experience with iboga, in which after detoxifying the mind in a first ceremony, the participant typically is launched into a surreal journey into the subconscious mind and is able to clearly review one’s life and make a direct, impressionable connection to their own soul.

It is this experience which Mikala says heals the wounds that cause depression, anxiety and PTSD.

He notes:

“The psycho-detox is kind of addressing the mind, and to detox the mind that means we reach a level to empty all of this trauma… it could be stress or any other forced beliefs… the garbage. And then, we have to take that person back to the very first day when that trauma started. It’s what I call a life-review… you don’t just do that from the mind, you have to actually go there live to the first day where everything started. It could be a rape… and a lot of women are still suffering from it. And the problem is they’ve been running from the pain, the fear, the everything.” ~ Moughenda Mikala

Because the trauma that leads to PTSD and depression lives within the mind, potentially for one’s entire life, the images and memories of traumatic experiences, like combat, are revisited over and again by the mind.

Pharmaceutical pills only cover up these images, causing people to lose everything, including joy and possibly life itself.

“So healing someone from trauma, PTSD or depression, there’s only one way. That is the traditional way. We have the best way to heal the mind. No pills. Pills won’t heal any mind, I don’t care how many years you’re going to be taking those pills, they won’t heal you, because not a single pill will be able to take you to a spiritual trip where you meet your soul face-to-face and have a long conversation with it.” ~Moughenda Mikala

Mikala further explains that this experience helps people to recognize what it is that caused their trauma and allows them to look at it up close and accept it as part of their lives, and then move on.

Having personally experienced this, and personally knowing Moughenda, I can say that the experience of iboga, when conducted ceremonially with properly trained healers and facilitators, is exceptionally extraordinary and leaves a lasting impression which, over time, continues to positively influence mental and spiritual health.

About the Author

Dylan Charles is the editor of Waking Times and host of Battered Souls: A Podcast About Transformation, both dedicated to ideas of personal transformation, societal awakening, and planetary renewal. His personal journey is deeply inspired by shamanic plant medicines and the arts of Kung Fu, Qi Gong and Yoga. After seven years of living in Costa Rica, he now lives in the Blue Ridge Mountains, where he practices Brazilian Jiu Jitsu and enjoys spending time with family. He has written hundreds of articles, reaching and inspiring millions of people around the world.

This article (A Traditional African Shaman Explains Why Pills Can Never Cure Depression or PTSD) was originally created and published by Waking Times and is published here under a Creative Commons license with attribution to Dylan Charles and WakingTimes.com. It may be re-posted freely with proper attribution, author bio, and this copyright statement.

[svtwritess]

Chapter 2

➫ word count: 11.6k (this got away from me to say the least </3) ➫ pairings: wonwoo x female reader, mingyu x female reader ➫ genre: fluff, smut, angst ➫ college!au, vampire!au ➫ warnings: sexual content, alcohol, food

“So are you gonna explain who that guy was?” Wonwoo asked, attempting to seem disinterested as he gripped the steering wheel of the moving truck tightly. 

“His name is Mingyu,” you said defensively as you tried to hide your smile, “and he was just helping me move everything inside that’s all.” you shrugged as you looked out of the window. 

It hadn’t been long since you parted from Mingyu, but you couldn’t get him out of your head. How did someone so tall, attractive, strong, and seemingly very sweet just… magically appear the exact second that you needed someone who was all of those things?  

“Yeah, I’m sure that was it.” Wonwoo scoffed disapprovingly. 

You whipped your head around to look at him, a frown evident on your features. He looked over at you and raised his eyebrow before returning his eyes to the road in front of him. 

“What? You think he had some sort of ulterior motive?” you questioned, slightly offended. 

“Um, yeah. Anyone with a brain would be able to figure that out.” Wonwoo said matter-of-factly, your jaw dropping at his words. 

“Wh-“ 

“Just tell me this,” Wonwoo started again, “Did he or did he not say or do something flirtatious at some point in time?” he asked, sounding as if he already knew the answer. 

Your instinct was to reply defensively and say no, but you quickly realized that you couldn’t. Very obviously checking you out when he first met you and asking you to promise that he’d see you again doesn’t exactly fall under the category of friendly. 

“I- That doesn’t matter.” you said and crossed your arms. Even though he was flirting, it was harmless and there’s no reason for Wonwoo to be so judgmental about it. It was probably because the whole Joshua incident had literally just passed, so him being upset was understandable, but it’s not like Mingyu was feeling you up in front of him or something. 

“Of course it doesn’t.” he chuckled lightly, clearly not believing you. 

You rolled your eyes. “And you care so much about this why?” you asked, a tinge of annoyance in your voice. 

“Cause I don’t trust him.”

‘Whatever,’ you thought, ‘it’s not like anything will come from it anyway’. Knowing your history with any guy that wasn’t Joshua, there was an extremely small chance that your relationship with Mingyu would amount to anything other than an acquaintanceship. You’d only spent around 2 hours with the guy, but even so, it was clear that he’s wildly attractive and that he has an insane effect on you. You hoped you’d see him again, really, you just didn’t know when or how.

Wonwoo pulled into a parking spot at the moving truck company. You unbuckled your seatbelt with a sigh, hopped out of the truck, and went inside. 

The bright lights caused you to squint as they were a great contrast to the darkness outside, and the harsh air conditioning caused a shiver to run down your spine. The building was essentially empty except for a few lone employees. 

You walked over to the help desk and told them you were returning a truck. You grabbed the key from Wonwoo, signed a form saying you returned the vehicle, and went right back outside to order an Uber home. Your parents offered the two of you one of their cars to take to college, but anywhere that you would need to go on a daily basis was walking distance. The walk could sometimes be further than you’d like depending on where you were going, but not far enough to work up a sweat, so it was something that you and Wonwoo were both thankful for. 

You ordered the Uber and told Wonwoo it would arrive in 3 minutes. He just nodded and leaned against the concrete wall of the building. 

“What’s your schedule like for this semester?” you asked, kicking around a small rock that was on the ground.

“Two classes on Monday and two on Tuesday, you?” he asked, arms crossed and giving you a curious stare.

“That seems like a lot,” you told him, but he just shrugged. “I have one in the morning everyday except Friday.” 

“Eh, I’d rather just get them over with,” he reasoned, “Is your Monday morning class the one about Shakespeare too?” he asked and you nodded. You were going into creative writing and he was going into literature, so a few of your classes were the same. 

“How did we not plan that?” you laughed, and he shrugged with a chuckle, not knowing the answer to your question either. 

The Uber pulled up in front of you and you both climbed inside. You checked to make sure the driver was the same as the person on the app and after confirming that it was, you sat back in your seat and anticipated getting back to your apartment so you could finally sleep.

It was finally the first day of classes and you were the utmost excited. With a content smile on your face, you put the last of your necessities in your bag and threw it over your shoulder. After looking in the mirror and running a brush through your hair one last time, you headed into your living room. 

Wonwoo was slumped down on the couch with his phone in his hand. He had a small pout on his face and looked more tired than you would have expected him to. 

“Good morning!” you said happily, sitting down next to him. 

He chuckled at your perkiness. “Well good morning. Why are you so excited?” he locked his phone and put it on his lap, looking up at you. 

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, “it’s the first day of classes, isn’t that always kind of exciting?” you asked curiously.

“Eh,” he said as he sat up straight, “it’s just school.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. He was right, it was just more school, but you were in college now, and everything was different, at least in your eyes.

“Well, would getting breakfast before class make it any better?” you inquired, and his face immediately perked up at your words. He nodded his head avidly and you smiled at his enthusiasm. “Okay, but we have to go now.”

Wonwoo stood up immediately and grabbed his grey bag that was sitting on the kitchen counter. He opened your front door and used his arm to motion outside. 

“Then let’s go now!” he said, a new found energy in his voice. You laughed and stood up, exiting your new apartment with your best friend in tow. You took the key out of your bag, locking the door and setting off toward your breakfast destination. 

You knew there was a coffee shop right by the campus as you had seen in when you toured the college almost a year ago, so you decided to go there. You and Wonwoo made small talk as you walked, Wonwoo still seeming too lethargic to discuss anything more than the basics. 

You arrived at the small shop, the air conditioning cool and the walls a calming blue color. There were a few other people your age scattered around the cafe, presumably other students. They all seemed happy, which was a good sign from a place that served food. 

You and Wonwoo approached the counter and a girl with a half up-half down hairstyle with a black apron on walked up to the counter to serve you. 

“Hi guys! What can I get for you?” she asked, her voice cheerful and her smile almost overwhelmingly large. Wonwoo got a coffee and a muffin and the girl punched in his order as she spoke. 

“O-okay,” she blushed, “anything else?” 

You placed your order, which was very similar to Wonwoo’s, and pulled your card out to pay. However, you realized that she hadn’t punched anything into the cash register the entire time you were talking. She was staring off into space, or rather, staring way too intently at Wonwoo. You moved forward a little to try and catch her attention, and she was shaken out of her thoughts.

“Sorry, uh, what was that?” she asked, her blush worse than before. You repeated your order, admittedly a bit irritated, and moved to pay again. As you went to insert your card into the machine in front of you, Wonwoo stopped you. 

“Here,” he said, reaching forward and inserting his card instead, “I got it.” 

He paid for your order and the girl handed you a number card to put on your table, shyly telling you that your order would be right out. You walked over to a small table in the corner of the shop and sat down, placing the number card at the edge of the table. 

“So she was obviously into you.” you stated, rather annoyed, and Wonwoo chuckled. 

“Was she? I didn’t notice.” he smirked, “Why do you sound so bothered, huh? Got something you wanna confess?” he joked. You laughed loudly. 

“Please,” you scoffed, “no. She just didn’t need to be so obvious about checking you out, that’s all.” 

The same girl that took your order came over to your table with a tray in her hand. She set your coffees and muffins down on the table before standing there for a moment, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Thank you.” you said as nicely as possibly, attempting to make it obvious that she no longer needed to be standing there.

“Oh,” she said, clearly surprised, “yeah, sorry. Just let me know if you need anything.” she gave Wonwoo one last look before heading back to her position at the front counter. 

“Well?” you asked Wonwoo, causing him to raise an eyebrow at you. “Do you need anything?” 

He chuckled at your bitterness. “Yeah, I need to eat.” he picked up his muffin and took a large bite. You, too, were feeling rather famished, so you began working on yours as well. You ate and drank in silence, hunger consuming the both of you. You also wanted to leave as soon as possible so that you weren’t late for your first class.

You watched as Wonwoo chugged the last of his coffee and set the cup down on the table. 

“Ready?” he asked, but all you could do was stare, as you had muffin threatening to fall out of your mouth. With ¾ of your coffee left and half a muffin in your hand, you shrugged and nodded. You could eat on the way and you’d hoped you’d be able to finish your beverage in class. You stood up from the table and pushed the chair in, making your way out the door. 

Wonwoo pulled out his class schedule and found the class you were headed to. 

“A-203,” he said under his breath, you assumed he was saying the building and room number.

You walked for a few more minutes, and soon your school’s campus came into view. It was the first time you were seeing the place in a few months and you could feel your heartbeat increase. You weren’t sure if it was because of excitement or pure anxiety, but either way, you were hoping for a good first day. 

You approached the large sign with your school’s name on it as you took the last bite of your muffin, throwing the wrapper in a trash can that you happened to walk by. You took another sip of your coffee as Wonwoo spotted the building your class was located in and pointed in that direction. You checked the time on your phone as you walked and thankfully you still had 10 minutes to spare. 

You approached the building and went inside. For some reason it was extremely cold, so you held onto your coffee hoping it would bring you some form of warmth. You climbed the stairs slowly, the feeling of the muffin that hadn’t yet digested weighing you down. 

When you reached the top of the stairs and began walking down the hallway, Wonwoo read the room numbers out loud. But of course, the very first room was number 219, which meant that your classroom was at the very end of the hall. 

You walked and walked until finally a sign with a big “203” on it was right in front of you. You entered the classroom, and wow was it big. Much larger than any high school classroom you’d ever been in. There were at least 10 rows of seats and the further back they went the higher up they were elevated. It all felt very… classy.

You and Wonwoo picked seats in one of the middle rows and sat on the very end. Wonwoo always liked being close to the door for some reason. 

“Think the professor will be on time?” he asked, but you shook your head.

“Probably not.” you replied as you took your things out of your bags. You both pulled out your laptops, yours in a rather busy plastic case with stickers in some places and his completely bare, looking as if it had just come out of the box. Even when it came to your possessions, it was clear who the more organized friend was. 

You checked your phone and there was now 1 minute until class was set to start, yet still no sign of your professor. Though as if the universe could read your mind, the door burst open and a middle-aged woman with grey hair entered the room. Her clothes screamed 70’s hippy movement and her glasses were about as thick as a bulletproof window, but she was pretty. She was slender and on the taller side, she definitely fit the stereotype of a professor who teaches Shakespeare. 

“Hello all!” she said in a perky voice. “Now today we’re gonna be jumping right into the material, we’ve got a lot to cover. So take out whatever you’re using to take notes and let’s get started!” 

You opened a fresh page, set the font and size to your preference and began typing. She started with Romeo and Juliet, which makes sense as it’s arguably Shakespeare’s most famous work. 

As she rambled you typed, trying to digest the surprisingly interesting information she was relaying to you. Wonwoo looked just as immersed in his notes as you did, which is probably why he didn’t notice the girl further down the row staring at him. She was leaning forward to look past you with a dazed look in her eyes. Did he give out love potions to random girls at some point and not tell you about it? 

You rolled your eyes, not wanting to think about how many more girls would fawn over your best friend this semester, and continued typing. 

The 2-hour lecture went by fast, as your professor had a way with words and knew how to make even the most boring of facts interesting. You felt lucky for that, as you knew how much a bad teacher could affect a learning experience. 

“Did you like it?” you asked Wonwoo as you put your laptop back in your bag.

“Yeah, I did actually. She’s a good teacher.” you nodded in agreement as you stood up, Wonwoo soon following suit. The girl down the row from you who was gawking at your apparently extremely attractive best friend walked past the two of you, giving Wonwoo an unmistakably flirtatious look before she exited the classroom.

“That’s the second one today.” you observed as you made your way toward the door. 

“Oh you act like you don’t give guys looks like that when you’re into them.” he teased, but you shook your head.

“Maybe at a party or something where a look like that is appropriate, but not in broad daylight!” you stated as you descended the stairs together. “Girls didn’t look at you like that in high school, what’s different?” 

“I don’t have Joshua next to me all the time.” he said in a low voice and shrugged. Sadly, you knew he was right. Joshua always got way more attention than Wonwoo in high school for some reason, even before his gigantic growth spurt. You felt your heart pang as you realized sleeping with Joshua probably didn’t make Wonwoo feel any better about himself at that time, but sadly, there wasn’t anything you could do about it now. 

“Well then I would say it’s time to get some, wouldn’t you?” you suggested as you stood in the lobby of the first floor.

Wonwoo just laughed. “Yeah, sure…” he trailed off, itching the back of his neck. “My next class is just down the hall, see you when I get home?” 

You nodded and wished him luck before heading back to your lovely, yet average, college apartment.

When you were walking home earlier, you saw a grocery store on your path and thought ‘why not?’ 

You went inside and grabbed the ingredients to make your favorite kind of pasta, as sort of a celebration that you and Wonwoo had successfully completed your first day of college. 

The ingredients were cheaper than you thought they’d be, and on an even brighter note, the guy at the register was cute. He was tall and slender with fluffy hair and a cute little beauty mark by his lip, though the way you felt when he looked at you was nowhere near as intense as when Mingyu did. Even though you’d only met him once, any time you saw a guy you thought was even remotely cute, you started comparing them to him. For some reason, your heart seemed to be dead set in seeing him again. 

When you got home, you took some time to get changed and relax. You threw on one of your favorite oversized t-shirts and a pair of shorts and realized that you were happy to feel so comfortable in your new home so soon.

You started cooking the pasta so that it would be done at roughly the same time Wonwoo was supposed to be home. You must have timed it perfectly, because low and behold, Wonwoo came through the door just as you were pouring the sauce over the noodles. 

“Hey! How was your second class?” you asked excitedly. 

“Not nearly as good as the first one,” he said, clearly exasperated as he fell back onto the couch, “and what’s that smell?” 

“I maaaaay have made first day of class pasta.” you told him as you grabbed the only two bowls you had bought so far and a pair of tongs, using them to dish both you and Wonwoo some noodles. You got some utensils from out of one of the drawers and placed them in the bowls before walking over to Wonwoo and handing him one. As you sat down next to him, he immediately started eating. 

“Wah,” he groaned, “this is amazing!” it was hard to understand him with his mouth full, but you appreciated the compliment nonetheless. “Thanks y/n.” he said sincerely. 

Happily you nodded, a content smile on your face. “You’re welcome,” you replied as you began eating as well, the savory flavor meeting your tongue. Wonwoo was right, it was pretty amazing. 

“Oh guess what! That girl from the cafe this morning? She was in my other class.” he said, slightly mumbling due to the overflow of pasta in his mouth. 

You just sat there, looking at him blankly. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you could hear that he was smiling, “We sat next to each other. I, uh… got her number.” 

Noodles almost fell out of your mouth when he said that. 

“You did? Like you initiated the asking of the phone number?” you asked, extremely surprised.

“Yeah!” he laughed, “Why do you sound so shocked?” 

“Because it usually takes a girl making it extremely obvious that she likes you over a long period of time for you to do anything about it.” you stated as if it was obvious.

“Well I was feeling confident today, sue me.” he shrugged, continuing to eat. You said nothing else and focused on your noodles. You weren’t sure if it was because you weren’t used to Wonwoo getting female attention or because you didn’t want anyone stealing any of your time with your best friend, but you didn’t like it. Though of course you weren’t going to tell him that, you knew that he deserved it. “Anyway, how were your 2 hours without me?” 

You were just going to tell him that you only took a nap and made the food, but then you remembered something.

“I saw a cute guy at the store today. He was the cashier. Tall, nice hair.” 

“Did you flirt with him?” he asked nonchalantly.

“No, just admired.” 

“Ah, so he wasn’t as cute as Mingyu?” he teased and you whipped your head in his direction. 

“What makes you think that?” you asked defensively and he laughed at your new disposition. 

“Cause it seemed like you were pretty eager to flirt with him.” you glared at your best friend for a moment, but decided to do nothing but roll your eyes. 

You quickly finished the rest of your pasta, anger slowly rising up in you. You didn’t tease him about the cafe girl, so why did he feel the need to tease you about Mingyu? Admittedly, it had been very easy for your mind to wander to thoughts of the tall and handsome stranger that you’d sadly only crossed paths with once, and you didn’t like the feeling of vulnerability very much at all. As much as you wanted to see him again, you were scared that the more you spent time with him, the weaker for him you’d become. It was cheesy, that you knew, but even after spending time with him on just a singular occasion, you were already smitten, and along with that, desperate to see him again. 

You woke up the next morning feeling surprisingly well rested. You had gone to bed relatively early, mostly because Wonwoo went to take a nap at around 7pm and never woke up. When you checked your phone, it was already 9:00, so you only had half an hour to get ready and head out the door, as your class started at 9:45 and the walk took about 10 minutes. 

You rolled out of bed and started getting ready for the day. After brushing your hair and teeth, applying some deodorant, and washing your face, you walked over to your closet and opened the door. 

You stood there, arms crossed and foot tapping against the carpeted floor of your bedroom. You were in a good mood and you wanted to show it, but the question was, how would you do so? You looked through everything on hangers and everything in drawers, and after way too long of a time, you finally decided on an outfit. 

You pulled a yellow dress with small flowers on it off of its hanger and grabbed a pair of white sneakers to match. It was a bit dressier than you were used to, but it called out to you for some reason. You put the dress on along with some socks and your shoes before grabbing your bag and exiting your room. 

Wonwoo was sitting on the couch with a bowl of cereal in his hands, his pajamas still on and his hair still messy from his slumber. 

“Don’t you have class this morning too?” you asked suspiciously as you grabbed a cup from one of your cabinets, as well as the juice from the refrigerator, and poured yourself a drink.

“Yeah, not until 12 though. Then right after that one ends I have another one.” he said. You could practically hear the future exhaustion in his voice.

“That’s what you get for taking two classes in a row.” you shrugged. “When will you be home?” 

“Probably around 3, you?” 

“Right after class, so I guess around noon.” you told him and he simply nodded, his eyes drooping slightly. “You should try and get some more sleep before class, okay?” 

You ruffled his hair with one hand and chugged the rest of your juice with the other, your gesture causing him to smile sweetly. After setting your empty glass in the sink, you headed out the door. 

The sun was shining and the breeze was the perfect speed. Your hair was blowing in the wind, but it was in the luxurious movie type way, not the messy way, so you were okay with it. 

Your English class this morning was in the same building as your class yesterday, but luckily it was downstairs. Sadly, downstairs was just as cold as upstairs and you had completely forgotten to bring a sweater. You sighed at your mistake, knowing the cold wouldn’t be easy to endure, as you approached your classroom and opened the door. Your jaw nearly dropped when you saw the size of it as it was about twice as big as the classroom you were in yesterday. 

You wandered in, wide eyed and curious. As you scanned the room, you recognized a tall, tan, and perfectly built male figure. When he turned around, your heart dropped.

Mingyu. 

As you were completely awestruck by Mingyu’s presence, you were totally unaware of the fact that he had seen you as well and was heading right toward you. 

“Y/n!” he said happily, snapping you out of your daze. 

“M-Mingyu! Hi...” you blushed, trying hard to maintain eye contact. His intimidating stare made you want to cower in fear and look away, but you didn’t want to appear as affected as you actually were. 

“I see you decided to keep your promise.” he smirked and you let out a light, mostly nervous laugh.

“Yeah,” you quickly debated what to say next, “I guess you could say I was eager to see you again.” you genuinely couldn’t believe that you got the words out without stuttering, but that being said, you were very proud of yourself.

He crossed his arms and licked his lips, a smug, confident look plastered on his face. “Well in that case,” he stepped closer, “would you sit with me?” 

You didn’t trust your voice any longer, so you nodded, probably a little too excitedly. He cocked his head as to say “follow me” and began walking up the stairs with you following closely behind.

He brought you to the 3rd row from the back, away from everyone else. It definitely confused you, but in an intriguing sort of way. When he sat down, you realized he didn’t have anything with him. No bag, no notebook. It seemed like he just had the clothes on his back. 

“Where’s your stuff?” you questioned, sitting down next to him, the material of the chair feeling cool against your thighs, causing a shiver to run down your spine. 

“Eh, don’t need any.” he said casually as he leaned back in his chair, his glorious thighs on display. You swallowed anxiously and tried not to stare at them.

“Why not?” you took out your laptop and turned it on, trying not to worry about Mingyu seeing and potentially judging the stickers you had put on it. 

“I have a good memory.” he shrugged. You didn’t believe it was possible that someone could pass a class without taking notes, but maybe he only brought nothing because it was the first day of class and there probably wouldn’t be much work to do anyway. 

Your professor walked in a few minutes after class was scheduled to start, but considering you made small talk with Mingyu while waiting for him, you didn’t mind. He was a short man with thick black hair and round glasses. A curious character, but he seemed interesting. 

He ran through the syllabus rather quickly and jumped right into the material, which Mingyu did not seem to be happy about. He kept raising his hand and asking questions in an attempt to stall, but the professor seemed to know the game Mingyu was trying to play and was not having it, so he answered all of his questions with a mere sentence and moved on.

Mingyu was clearly confident, and was probably pretty popular as well. With those things considered, why was he opting to sit with you? He was talking to people when you came in and had apparently just abandoned them for you. You blushed at the thought of him prioritizing you over his friends, but you also felt a pang of guilt. It was only his second time meeting you so… maybe he was just as enchanted by you as you were by him? 

Throughout class, you found yourself fascinated by every point your professor made. His perspective on literature was one you had never heard before and you were the utmost intrigued, attempting to type every word that came out of his mouth. 

Sometimes, Mingyu would lean forward and ask you a question or make a clever remark, but even you were surprised at how you brushed him off. As much as you enjoyed listening to Mingyu’s voice, you were surprisingly enjoying the content of the lesson just as much. He seemed to notice your intense focus after a few of his comments and decided to lay off. He simply admired the way you would unconsciously nod along with the professor’s words with a smile on his face instead.  

Your two-hour lecture was over far sooner than you would have liked, but you knew anything longer than 2 hours would probably kill most other students. You sighed contently and turned off your laptop before putting it back into your bag and facing Mingyu.

“So,” you smirked, “how much of the lesson do you remember?” you leaned on the edge of your desk and looked into his eyes.

He chuckled and leaned forward, lacing his fingers together on top of his desk. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

“I would, that’s why I asked.” you said smugly. 

“Well it usually takes a little while for the information to sink in,” he said and all you could do was roll your eyes. 

“I’m sure it does.” you said sarcastically and stood up, throwing your bag over your shoulder. Mingyu got up as well and walked over to stand right in front of you.

“I’ll even prove it to you, go to a party with me this weekend.” he proposed, catching you completely off guard. 

“A-a party? What does that have to do with English?” you weren’t exactly sure why you were questioning him, but you decided to blame it on your nerves. 

“Well we’ll be speaking won’t we?” he smiled as he stepped a little closer. You nodded and looked up into his eyes, which was a huge mistake. They were perfectly shaped and incredibly inviting, so it was definitely not going to be easy to say no. “Come? Please?” he asked quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Okay.” you said. You sounded more anxious than anything, but inside you were screaming like a little kid.

“Good,” he laughed, “I’ll text you the address later.” he said, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He unlocked it and opened the contacts app before handing it to you. Your hands shook slightly as you put in your number and handed the phone back to him. 

“Can I walk you home?” he asked in a gentlemanly fashion, and again you nodded before you exited the classroom together. 

Mingyu offered to carry your bag for you, but you insisted that you could handle it yourself. You made small talk once more as you walked, simply enjoying his company. That being said, you were rather upset when you reached your front door.

“Thanks for walking me home.” you said, taking your key out of your bag.

“Don’t mention it,” he said sweetly. 

You opened the door to an empty apartment, and that was when you remembered Wonwoo was still in class. 

“Do you, uh… wanna come in?” you asked boldly, Mingyu simply smiling and nodding in response. You loved how much he smiled. 

“Your friend isn’t here is he?” he inquired, almost sounding nervous as he entered your apartment. 

“No,” you chuckled as you shut the door behind the pair of you. “Why, are you scared or something?” you teased, but he merely scoffed and sat down on your couch. 

“Of course not. We just didn’t hit it off very well last time.” he stated, eyes on the ground in front of him. It definitely seemed like Wonwoo wasn’t fond of your new, handsome acquaintance, but it wasn’t your place to speak for him, so you decided to change the subject. 

“Are you hungry?” you walked into your kitchen, “I can make you something.” you suggested.

“Hmm…” he pondered, “Whatcha got?” 

You looked in your refrigerator and in all of your cabinets and could only find one thing that was even remotely suitable for a proper meal.

“Uhh, ramen?” 

Mingyu looked at you for a moment before laughing and standing up. As he walked toward you, you wondered if you had somehow offended him by your offer.

“If anyone here is making ramen,” he placed his hands on your shoulders, “it’s me.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows at his comment as he walked past you, searching high and low for the proper size pot. Once he found it in one of your lower cabinets, he filled it with water and turned an eye of the stove on high before gently placing the pot on top of it. He then opened the cabinet in front of him, took out two packs of ramen, and put them next to the stove. He turned around and leaned against the counter next to the oven. “I’m kind of great at cooking. No big deal though.” he shrugged. You couldn’t help but laugh at his borderline cockiness. 

“I’ll make sure to keep that in mind.” you said in a sly voice as you stood directly in front of him. Your kitchen was on the small side and with Mingyu being as tall and broad as he was, you felt like the two of you were closer than you ever had been.

Admiration swarmed his brown orbs as he looked down at you. They were dangerously inviting. Subconsciously, you moved closer and closer to each other, until…

The water started boiling over the pot and spilling onto the stovetop. 

Mingyu heard it and immediately turned around, moving the pot off of the eye and turning the temperature down a few notches. Once the water had settled, he returned the pot to the eye that it was cooking on. 

“Guess that means it’s ready,” he mumbled before opening both packages of ramen and putting both blocks into the pot. “Sorry…” he said almost inaudibly. You didn’t know if he was talking about the ramen or the two of you almost kissing, but you decided you didn’t really want to find out and changed the subject. 

“So where did you learn how to make such amazing ramen?” you attempted to tease, though you were still on edge. 

“Well…”

Mingyu then proceeded to tell you (more like brag) about how he’d always had a knack for cooking, along with the fact that his taste buds were, in a word, immaculate. You simply nodded along and let him talk, finding joy in how passionate he seemed to be about culinary arts. It’s hard to think of merely making ramen as any type of art, but he had convinced you that he had mastered the art of making all types of dishes. You told him you’d believe it when you saw it as he added the flavor packets into the ramen and split the noodles into two bowls. He handed one to you and you thanked him before grabbing two pairs of chopsticks from a drawer and heading over to your couch. 

You sat down next to each other and ate in a comfortable silence. You didn’t want to tell him and feed his ego, but the ramen he made was easily the best you’d ever had. Once the two of you had finished eating, you leaned back against your couch and looked at each other. 

“What do we do now?” Mingyu asked. You couldn’t know for sure, but it seemed like there was an underlying playfulness in his voice, like he was hinting at something. Your mind went back to barely 10 minutes ago, when you could have sworn you were about to kiss, and your cheeks instantly turned a bright red color. You broke eye contact and stared at the ceiling nervously.

“We could, uh… watch a movie I guess? Unless you have somewhere to be...” you played with the hem of your shirt, anxiously awaiting his answer.

“Y/n?” he said sweetly, causing you to return your eyes to his. “I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be right now.” his body was turned toward you and his head was resting on top of a couch cushion, making his cheek look extra squeezable. You blushed even harder and tried not to smile as widely as you felt you could; how was he so smooth? Usually someone being so blatant about their feelings for you, especially so early on into knowing you, would be a total turn off for you. It was just something about the way Mingyu carried himself that made you swoon so easily. He’s confident without being cocky, knows how to flirt with you in a way that doesn’t make you uncomfortable, and was just extremely enjoyable and easy to be around. You knew someone this great was bound to have some hidden baggage, toxicity, or secret that would eventually come to light, but you tucked that thought into the back of your mind and decided to enjoy the happy times while you still had them. 

“Here,” you handed him your TV remote, “pick whatever you want.” you took his bowl and yours and set them on the coffee table in front of you. When you sat up straight again, Mingyu had his arm over the back of the couch He ended up choosing something animated that kind of seemed like it could be a kid’s movie, but it looked entertaining, so you had no complaints. 

The plot of the movie actually seemed to be really good, but you were missing some parts of it because you were drifting in and out of sleep the entire time. It was probably because Mingyu was so warm and comfortable along with the fact that actively listening and taking diligent notes in class wore you out, despite getting a good night’s sleep. 

By the end of the movie, you had fallen asleep against his shoulder. He was unsure of what to do as you looked so peaceful. He decided he would take a few moments to admire you before waking you up as gently as possible. 

He took the time to really look at your features, almost studying you. He noticed the way your top lip curved, the height of your cheekbones, the complexion of your skin. In all his years of living, even after having known thousands of women, you were easily one of the most beautiful. You also intrigued him, and though it was only his second time meeting you, he’d been alive long enough to know when someone was worth his time. 

“Y/n,” he whispered, shaking your body slightly.

You awoke in a startle, immediately sitting up and trying to remember what was happening when you fell asleep. 

“Oh god,” you put your face in your hands in embarrassment, “I’m sorry.” you told him when you remembered that you completely knocked out during what was supposed to be ~quality time~. 

“It’s fine, really. I should probably go anyway.” he said. You felt bad, as you didn’t want him to feel like he was boring or easy to fall asleep around, but when you checked the time, you saw that Wonwoo would be coming home soon. You really didn’t feel like trying to endure or get rid of that level of tension, especially in your tired state. 

“Yeah, my roommate will be home soon…” you didn’t want to finish your sentence in fear of sounding rude, but Mingyu understood exactly what you meant. 

“He doesn’t exactly like me, does he?” he chuckled as he stood up, offering his hand to you. You smiled and took it, getting up from the couch. 

“You’re just… new. He doesn’t really do well with new.” you shrugged as you walked him over to the door. “Sorry again for falling asleep, I promise it had nothing to do with you.” you reassured him.

“Don’t worry about it. I had a really nice time.” he told you and you smiled up at him.

“Me too.”

“See you this weekend?” he asked hopefully as he reached for the door handle. 

“See you this weekend.” 

“A party? No.” Wonwoo said, immediately shutting down your idea. You had invited him to attend this weekend’s party with you, but it was a shot in the dark in the first place.

“Come on!” you whined, sitting down next to him on his bed. “I don’t usually like going to them either, but this one could be fun…” you tried to reason with him.

“Yeah? Why is that?” he paused the video game he was playing and looked over at you. You looked down at his comforter, twiddling your fingers in fear of his response. 

“Because Mingyu invited me.” you said in the quietest voice possible. 

“Mingyu? Seriously?” he said defensively, a rather disgusted look on his face. You simply nodded, then proceeded to give him the purest puppy dog eye look known to man. He let out a long sigh. “You’re gonna go whether I’m with you or not aren’t you?” you nodded again, smiling innocently at him, despite the not-so-innocent situation. Another sigh left his lips, this one more exasperated than the first. “Fine, I’ll go. But only because I don’t trust him.” he pointed his finger at you and resumed his game, which told you the conversation was over. 

“Thank youuuu!” you said, very content with how surprisingly easy it was to get him to agree. You didn’t particularly like making him do something he didn’t want to do, but you also knew he’d drive himself crazy sitting at home wondering what you could be doing or why you weren’t answering your phone. You were also hoping he would make a friend that wasn’t coffee shop girl. Preferably someone who wasn’t interested in him sexually or romantically. 

It was around 10 o’clock now, you had already showered and were in your pajamas, so you felt like there was nothing keeping you from going to bed. You shouted a “goodnight” to Wonwoo and headed into your room. 

You fell onto your bed with an ‘oof’ before rolling over to where your nightstand was. You turned off your lamp, grabbed your phone, and rolled over to your other side. As soon as you began scrolling through one of your SNS accounts, you got a phone call.

From Mingyu.

Assuming that him calling meant that something was extremely wrong, you answered with no hesitation.

“Hello?” you said, worry evident in your voice. 

“Hey y/n, you okay?” he asked you, sounding way more calm than you expected him to.

“Yeah, are you okay?” you were now sitting up on your elbow in utter confusion in terms of his reason for calling. 

“Yeah. I just, uh, wanted to talk… is that weird?” he half-laughed at the end. You bit your lip in excitement. 

“No, not really. I guess I’m just surprised.” you said, feeling at peace enough to lay back down. 

“And why is that?” he questioned smugly.

“Well for one, no one really calls anymore.” you teased, even though you were more than okay with talking to him, despite the fact that you’d seen him earlier today.

“Let’s just say I’m old fashioned.” he reasoned.

“Alright, I’m okay with that.” you replied, smiling for a reason you couldn’t seem to point out. He’s really just that charming.

“Good. Soooo what’s your favorite color?” 

During your 2-hour phone call, Mingyu asked you all types of get-to-know questions. He wanted to know your favorite animal, subject, food, favorite place to be, along with things like places you wanted to travel, where you wanted to settle down and live someday, and even if you wanted kids. You would ask him the same questions in return, and you both insisted that you explained your answers. Though the questions were pretty surface level, you felt like you knew a lot more about Mingyu and felt a lot closer to him. 

Every night leading up to Saturday was filled with Mingyu’s phone calls as well. Only with each passing night, the questions became more revealing. Sometimes they’d be ethical, political, or even questions about your previous relationships. You only really had Joshua to tell about, and Mingyu didn’t seem to have much to tell about either, though it kind of felt like he was holding back when it came to the romance topic. Even though you were curious, you didn’t push it.

You were nervous to see Mingyu after getting to know him almost entirely over the phone, but at the same time, your heart skipped beats at the thought of being with him again. 

You woke up on Saturday morning, anxiety along with pure adrenaline coursing through your veins as you thought about what would happen later that day. You knew you would be seeing Mingyu and you knew it would be at a party, so alcohol could easily be involved, and you were nearly jumping out of your skin thinking about what else could potentially happen. You weren’t necessarily expecting anything wild or super memorable to happen, but you definitely felt like there was a possibility for it. You got out of bed begrudgingly, knowing that your mind would be filled with nothing but thoughts of seeing Mingyu for the entire day. 

When you stumbled into the living room, you found Wonwoo asleep on the couch. You let out a quiet laugh and rolled your eyes. You didn’t even want to know how he went from sleeping in his bed to sleeping on the couch, but you tried to be as quiet as possible nonetheless. 

You got a pan from the cabinet and a carton of eggs from your sad, nearly empty refrigerator. Upon putting the pan on the stovetop and turning it on, you heard your best friend stirring on the couch. You turned to look at him and he was sitting up, his face confused and his hair a mess. 

“Well good morning, did you sleep walk out here?” you asked as he stood up slowly made his way toward you.

“You know, it’s very possible, but I have no idea.” he replied, causing you to chuckle. He sat on the counter next to the stove and noticed that you were making breakfast. “Make me some?” you simply nodded in response and cracked four eggs into the pan, scrambling them as they cooked. Wonwoo made himself useful and grabbed two plates from the cabinet behind his head and placed them next to him by the stove. Once the eggs were done, you separated them onto the two plates evenly, turned off the stovetop, and walked over to your couch, breakfast and utensils in hand. 

“Don’t you think we should get a table at some point?” Wonwoo asked as the two of you sat down. 

“I mean technically we have a table,” you said as you motioned to the small, low-rising coffee table in front of you. “Is our twenty dollar, secondhand, barely holding itself together coffee table not good enough for you? Has college changed you?” you teased as you started eating. 

“No, I just feel like most grown ups have a table you can actually dine at.” he shrugged. You gave him a weird look, as you didn’t really know why it mattered to him so much, and continued with your eggs. 

“Are you excited for the party tonight?” you asked after a few minutes of egg-eating filled silence. You knew the answer was most likely no, but you were mostly asking because you weren’t sure if he even remembered that he agreed to go. 

“Ugh,” he groaned, “that’s tonight?” he looked at you in distaste. You replied with a simple nod and he threw his head back in defeat. “Why did I agree to go again?” 

“Because you loooove me.” you said playfully, smiling as you took the last bite of your breakfast. You watched your best friend turn beet red and avoid your eyes before you stood up and walked over to the sink, putting your plate inside of it. 

You then went into your room to grab your phone. When you picked it up, you felt your heart flutter at one of the notifications. 

Mingyu had texted you. 

You ignored everything else on the screen and opened his message. 

From: Mingyu

“phi kappa alpha house

10pm 

don’t be late ;)”

For mystery purposes, you decided not to respond, but you clutched your phone in extreme excitement, a smile on your face. The party was still half a day away and you honestly had no idea how you were going to pass the time. You thought about going shopping, but now that you were an unemployed, full-time college student you were officially saving any money you could get your hands on. Though thankfully, you lived with your best friend, and hanging out with him would surely help the time go quickly. After all, time flies when you’re having fun!

You exited your room and sat back down next to Wonwoo on the couch. 

“What should we do today?” you asked him. He merely shrugged, his eyes locked on his phone. “We could watch movies, or a TV show, or we could play video games…” you rambled, Wonwoo’s head suddenly whipping in your direction. 

“You wanna play a video game?” surprise was evident in his voice, but you just shrugged. 

“I honestly have nothing better to do.”

Wonwoo was not about to pass up the opportunity to play video games with you. It was one of his favorite activities and something that you basically never showed interest in, so with that being said, the two of you went into his room and played virtually every game Wonwoo owned. You ended up liking League of Legends a lot more than you were expecting to, which made your best friend extraordinarily happy. 

You spent the most time playing that one, Wonwoo refusing to admit that he let you win a couple of times. Around 2pm your stomach started growling, so Wonwoo basically forced you to stop playing and eat something. You didn’t want to, but you knew he was in the right for making sure you ate. 

After that, you played for about one more hour before you got bored. However, you were comfortably situated in Wonwoo’s bed and did not by any means feel like moving, so Wonwoo simply put on a movie for the two of you to watch. And then another one. And then you watched a few episodes of a TV show until finally, the moment had arrived. It was time to get ready. 

You excitedly jumped out of Wonwoo’s bed and ran into your room, shouting at him to get ready as well before closing your door.

You picked up your phone and shuffled your playlist, wanting to add to the anticipation with some music. After that, you opened your closet and stood in front of it. You looked through all of your drawers, but found nothing even remotely appropriate for a party. You then looked through all of the clothes that you kept on hangers, and right when you were about to give up hope, you saw it. The little black dress. 

You had bought it in high school, specifically for partying purposes, but you hadn’t gotten much use out of it since you purchased it. You only really went to parties when it was a friend’s birthday or graduation party, so needless to say it had likely been worn less than 10 times. You felt like it was an extremely cliché outfit to wear, but it was the most fitting outfit for the event you were about to attend. 

You took it out of the deepest part of your closet and gave it a look of distaste. It wasn’t ugly, it was just not the way you were used to dressing. You figured you could have dressed like normal, but you didn’t want to stand out in an underwhelming sort of way, so you decided that since it was your first college party, you would dress the part. 

You changed into the small, black article of clothing and immediately felt uncomfortable. Luckily, you had a little under an hour to get used to it before you had to leave. 

You grabbed your makeup bag off of your dresser and laid everything you needed out in front of you. A full face of makeup was another thing you didn’t wear very often, but you had to admit that you really enjoyed doing it. Seeing the finished product also gave you a decently sized boost of confidence most of the time. 

You took more time than usual, as you actually had a decent amount of time to do it, and you wanted it to look as good as possible. As for your hair, you figured you’d just run a straightener through it a few times right before you left and hope for the best. 

As you got ready, you wondered why Mingyu hadn’t reached out to you at all today except for when he told you the information about the party. On one hand, you didn’t respond, so maybe he took that as you not wanting to talk? Which wasn’t by any means true, you weren’t really sure why you didn’t respond, you just knew that no matter the reason, the suspense you were feeling would make seeing Mingyu again much more exciting.

You applied your foundation diligently and followed up with some bronzer, blush, and highlighter before finishing off with some eyeshadow and mascara. It was a pretty basic look, but still more intense than normal. You grabbed your hair straightener from the bathroom and plugged it in by your mirror, slipping your socks and shoes on while you waited for it to heat up. While you were willing to sacrifice your normal clothing, you weren’t so keen on replacing your usual tennis shoes with heels, so you paired your dress with a pair of Converse instead. 

You quickly checked the time on your phone and it read 9:58, which meant you’d be a little late, but you were hoping it seemed more fashionable than forgetful. You straightened your hair as quickly as possible and looked in the mirror one last time. “Wow,” you thought, “you did good y/n.” Giving yourself a mental pat on the back, you unplugged your straightener, grabbed your phone, and exited your room. 

Wonwoo was standing in the kitchen with his back to you. Though you couldn’t see his face, you could tell he looked good. Like good good. He had chosen a pair of black skinny jeans and a white t-shirt that fit him perfectly. Okay it was a super basic outfit, but the way he made it look so good, and from the back of all angles, was the impressive part. 

“You ready?” you asked, grabbing your house key off of the coffee table. 

“I’ve been ready for like 40 minutes.” he laughed under his breath as he turned around to face you. When his eyes landed on you, they widened to twice their size. “Woah…” he walked toward you. “What is this?!” he exclaimed, using his hand to motion the length of your body.

“Uh, party clothes?” 

He looked at you and you couldn’t tell if he was impressed or judging you. You gave him a look that said something along the lines of “stop looking at me like that” and eventually, he shook himself out of it. 

“Do I look bad or something?” you asked, a hint of anxiety in your voice as you handed him the key and headed toward the door. He shook his head no as he opened the door, motioning for you to exit first.

“No,” he said as he closed the door behind you, “it’s just… weird.” 

He locked the door and began leading the way, considering he knew where the frat house was for some reason. 

“So it’s weird when I look good now? Thanks, rock bottom feels great.” you joked as you walked, arms crossed partially because you were cold and partially because you were feeling self-conscious now that you’d left the house.

“Shut up, you always look good. You just look different.” he said sternly, tucking the key into his pocket. You felt yourself starting to blush, but you knew he meant it platonically. He didn’t like it when you talked down on yourself. You didn’t like it when he spoke poorly of himself either, but luckily he did it way less often than you. Wonwoo was confident, but he was also very humble, and you thought that was a huge part of his appeal. 

You walked in silence, taking in the nighttime sights of your university town. It was quite pretty, but you often didn’t notice as you were rushing to class or scrolling through your phone most of the time. It was a smaller town, but you preferred it that way anyway. 

After about 10 minutes or so, you approached a house with very few lights on that had music blasting through the walls. It had some discarded red cups and a sign with Greek letters in the front lawn, and though you couldn’t read them, it was safe to assume that this was the house you were supposed to be at.

As you and Wonwoo approached the house, you noticed that there was a gaggle of people on the front porch. When you got up to the door, Wonwoo stopped to say hi to one of them. He was on the shorter side with high cheekbones and a cute smile. Before Wonwoo could introduce you, he spoke up. 

“Who’s this?” he asked, motioning to you with the hand that had a drink in it. 

“I’m y/n,” you replied. Normally when meeting someone Wonwoo knew, you would want him to introduce you, but this guy had an inviting way about him.

“Y/n? That’s pretty, I’m Seungkwan.” he said kindly and you simply nodded in response. “Oh Wonwoo, you know Jina’s here right?” the shorter male said before sending your best friend a knowing smirk. 

You furrowed your eyebrows. Jina? You figured that must be coffee shop girl. Gross.

“Oh really? Thanks.” he said, excitement lacking in his voice. He began walking inside, so you followed suit. 

“See you later! Nice to meet you y/n!” Seungkwan yelled after you. You waved at him with a smile and entered the large, testosterone-filled house. It was crowded with college students and was way more packed than any party you’d ever been to. 

Your anxiety suddenly spiked at the thought of finally seeing Mingyu. The whole frat party scene was one you weren’t used to, so that wasn’t making you feel any better. Your hands started sweating and your heart was beating much faster than normal. You played with your fingers as you scanned the room for Mingyu’s tall figure. 

“You okay?” Wonwoo yelled over the music, clearly taking note of your shift in mood. You simply nodded and continued looking for Mingyu, hoping that finally seeing him would relieve most, if not all, of your anxiety. It also could make it worse, you thought, but you decided to wait and see. 

“I’m gonna get a drink, do you want anything?” 

“No, it’s okay,” you yelled in response, “I think I’m gonna look for Mingyu.” 

Though it was clear in his facial expression that he disapproved, he nodded and wandered into the kitchen while you made your way into the sea of college kids. 

Since you couldn’t see Mingyu standing up, you assumed he either hadn’t arrived yet or was sitting down somewhere. There was a clump of couches by the stairs, so you decided to check there first. After weaving your way through the maze of sweaty college kids, you finally approached them, and low and behold, Mingyu was sitting on the loveseat against the wall. Though he was surrounded by people, he was only talking to the significantly smaller male that was sitting next to him.

You wormed your way through another mob of people to get near him, and the moment he saw you, he flashed you the prettiest smile you’d ever seen. The butterflies in your stomach swarmed worse than ever before as he stood up to greet you. 

“Hi.” he said in a sultry voice, a small smile still present on his face. 

“Hi.” you beamed. 

“Wanna go somewhere quiet?” he asked as he gently caressed your arm before taking your hand in his. You nodded without a second thought. 

He started walking toward the back of the house in which there was a large sliding glass door. When you reached them, he slid one open and stepped outside with you. There were still people out there, but not nearly as many. 

He took you over to a large white cooler that was against the wall of the house and opened it. Though you couldn’t really see its contents due to the darkness, you reached in and grabbed 2 of whatever your hand landed on. He had chosen a beer for himself, which didn’t really surprise you. 

Finally, he walked you to a wooden staircase that led to the roof of the house. You climbed up behind him and once you reached the top, you were amazed to see that there was no one else up there. 

“Do people not know they can come up here or something?” you asked, sitting on the lone wooden bench that was sitting in the middle of the roof.

“I think they do, but most people that go to parties actually want to be surrounded by other people, you know.” he joked as he sat next down next to you. You smiled at his playfulness and looked over at him.

The moonlight accentuated his already perfect features, making your heart skip a beat. He took a sip of his drink and looked over at you, smirking when he realized that you were staring. 

“See something you like?” he teased, running his hand through his hair for added dramatic effect. 

“Yeah,” you admitted shamelessly, “I do.” 

You didn’t try to hide your face, shy away, or even blush. The night was making you feel bold, though you weren’t exactly sure why. Your relationship with Mingyu already felt so easy, you were extremely comfortable with him. After all, you’d basically told him everything about your life up until this point, and his responses to your experiences were wise beyond his years. Whenever you’d thought you’d done something bad or wrong, Mingyu always came up with a reason as to why what you did made sense. The way he never once judged you for anything you told him, even when it came to your more shameful moments, made you feel like you could trust him. He made you feel safe. 

The more you thought about it, the more you realized you didn’t want to let yourself think too much. Though you were already saying things that were out of the ordinary for you, you didn’t want to let your thoughts leave your head, at least not right now. That being decided, you made the choice to open one of the cans in your hand and down it in one go, because getting drunk totally wouldn’t put you in the position to say exactly what you’re thinking, right?

When you downed the last sip of bitter alcohol, you moved the can away from your face and brought it down into your lap. Mingyu was looking at you like you had two heads, but his expression only made you laugh.

“What? Impressed?” you looked at him teasingly, but he just shook his head in disbelief. 

“More like terrified. Please tell me you’ve eaten today?” he whined, concern lace in his voice. You could only smile in response. 

“Not since lunchtime!” you said perkily, setting the empty can down by your feet and picking up the full one. You knew drinking on a stomach wasn’t the smartest idea, but you figured you’d need a decent amount in your system if you wanted to do anything more with Mingyu than talk. And honestly, you wanted to. 

When you sat back up, Mingyu had his arm stretched out on top of the bench, giving you a spot to cuddle up next to him. You leaned against him and rested your head on his shoulder, his scent filling your senses. His presence was familiar and comforting, and that’s when something suddenly dawned on you. 

“Doesn’t this all feel a little… fast to you?” you asked, looking up into his soft brown orbs. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Maybe it’s just me,” you sat up straight so you could look at him head-on, “but I really like you. Like really like you, but it’s only what, the third time I’ve seen you in person? I feel like it’s weird...” you asked mostly because if he felt the same way then you would feel way less strange about having caught feelings for him so fast. The only person you had ever really had feelings for was Joshua, and you didn’t even know if that situation really fell under the “crush” category. 

“I don’t think it’s weird,” he shrugged, taking a sip of his beer. 

“Really?” you took a long sip of your drink.

“No. If someone’s right for you then they’re right for you,” he smiled reassuringly at you. “And if liking someone so quickly is weird, then I guess we’re both pretty odd.” 

You felt your cheeks heat up and your stomach begin to do flips at his words. You smiled at him, clearly smitten, and getting lost in his eyes as you leaned closer to him without even realizing what you were doing. You stopped when you could feel his breath on your skin. 

“Have you been drinking?” he asked sarcastically, booping your nose lightly.

“Yes,” you giggled, “but you’re the most intoxicating thing here.” 

All traces of playfulness disappeared when you looked down at his lips. They were the most enticing shade of pink, along with being the perfect size and shape to send you spiraling.  

“Y/n, we don’t-“

“Shhh, shut up.” you dropped the can behind you before grabbing his face and slamming his lips onto yours. They were just as soft as they looked and felt heavenly against yours. You kissed him passionately, saying everything you couldn’t say with words. 

Mingyu’s hand moved to your waist as your lips moved in sync, squeezing lightly as a low groan left his mouth. The sound went straight to your core, a whimper leaving your lips as you swung your leg over his body. You moved your hands to the back of his neck, kissing him even deeper.

His hands immediately moved to your ass, pulling you as close to him as he possibly could. His tongue slid into your mouth and it took everything in you to suppress the sounds your body so desperately wanted to make. You ran your fingers through his hair, a light sweat making its way onto your skin. 

You pulled away from the kiss, panting heavily, and kept your hands in Mingyu’s hair. You looked into his eyes before he buried his face in your neck. Then strangely, he had stopped all activity. You tried moving his lips closer to your neck, but he wouldn’t budge. 

“Mingyu?” you looked down at him. His eyes were glued to the place where your bodies met, his chest rising and falling heavily. “Mingyu what’s wrong?” you asked, trying to make eye contact, but completely failing. 

“We should stop.” he said sternly, removing his hands from your body. 

Your heart dropped. Did you do something wrong? Did he all of a sudden change his mind about you? You were finally feeling the alcohol in your veins, which wasn’t by any means helping the situation. 

“D-did I do something w-”

“No, no it’s not you. I just think I should go inside.” he avoided eye contact and attempted to move your body off of his, but you felt you were entitled to a slightly more descriptive explanation. 

“Wait, can you just tell me why-” 

“Y/n please-” he wrestled you off of his lap as gently as he could until you were standing. He tried to head for the stairs, but you grabbed his wrist before he could get there. 

“Mingyu what is going on?!” you exclaimed, and Mingyu whipped around in response. Only he looked different. Much different. His irises were almost completely black, his eyes rimmed with red.

And in his mouth were two long, sharp fangs.

a/n: so,,,,,,,,,,,,, long, filler chapter, and FANGS!!!!!!!!!! i’m sure u saw it coming but .. now u know :D i’m not super proud of this but i hope you all like it :( i’ll have the next chapter up as soon as possible but i did just start classes again so i’m not sure when that will be </3 i’ll try to make it uuuuh not super long sskdkdks

[threecrowsinatrenchcoat]

Paint My Spirit Gold

Dukeceit Week Day 2: Green/Yellow

Fans of the YouTubers "Deceit" and Remus "The Duke" Sanders start to suspect that maybe, just maybe, the two of them are more than simple internet pals.

AO3 Link: [here]

Word Count: 2187

Warnings: n/a

@dukeceitweek <3

-

[ID: A screenshot of a Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It features a watercolor-style painting of a snake. The snake appears to be made of melting chocolate, and there is a large bite taken out of its tail. Cherries and jam are leaking out of the snake at the bite wound. The snake's expression of horror is overly-exaggerated to the point of comedy. The caption reads: "liked your snake boi, @SerpenThyme. thanks for the inspo." /end ID]

- 

A notification ding cut Janus off mid-sentence. 

“Wow, someone left their cell phone on, so professional,” he said, giving the camera a dramatic eye roll. That someone was him, of course, because he was the only one in the apartment- just him and the running livestream- but that was no excuse not to be a drama queen about it. He finished wiping flour off his hands and grabbed his phone to silence it; but the notification made him pause. He flicked his eyes up toward the camera and gave a slight smirk.

“My goodness, I’m famous,” he drawled. “The Duke himself has graced little old me with some fan art.”

Most of the comments in the chat wanted him to show it, so Janus opened up Twitter to see the full post he’d been tagged in. It was a watercolor painting of the coiled-snake chocolate sculpture- lovingly named Jake by his viewers- he’d made for his YouTube video last week; it was wearing an expression of such comedic horror that Janus had to stifle a laugh. He flicked his phone screen toward the close-up camera on his counter so his viewers could see.

“How kind of you, Remus,” he said. “All of you should go scold him for what he’s done to poor Jake here.”

Most of his viewers would know he was joking- after all, they were the ones to nickname him Deceit when he provided neither a real or fake name for his online persona. They knew full well what he was like by now.

The oven timer dinged. Janus silenced his phone and set it aside.

“And our first batch of cookies is done. You know, why don’t we show the Duke some appreciation?”

-

[ID: An Instagram post by user @SerpenThyme. The photo is an artistically-framed shot of a stack of sugar cookies with green, yellow, and pink icing. Propped up against the stack is another cookie, with an intricate icing-drawing of an octopus. The photo appears to have been color corrected to have high contrast, low saturation, and a dark vignette at the edges. The Instagram user @OctoDukie is tagged. No caption. /end ID]

- 

“You know, I have often been accused of actually being a little old lady, what with my fondness for knitted jumpers, rocking chairs, and incredibly fucked up murder mystery books. Today I am doing nothing to dispel this accusation, by making soup.”

The studio was dark and empty aside from Remus' workspace. Everyone else had left long ago, even his own brother, which meant that it was officially ass-o'clock in the morning (or, as most people called it, somewhere between 1 and 2 a.m.) But Remus was stuck in hyperfocus, honed in on putting the last touches on a commission that he'd been putting off for weeks. It's not that it was a tough painting- once he'd gotten started, it was actually a very creatively satisfying piece- but man, executive dysfunction could go suck a dick

“French onion soup, specifically. Because while I do like to pretend I am a classy bitch, I am also, regrettably, a lazy bitch with a distaste for anything that takes longer than one bottle of wine to make.”

Remus hated working in silence. It was stifling, almost suffocating. His brain needed noise like his lungs needed air. So when the studio had grown still and silent, Remus had flipped open his laptop and queued up some YouTube videos. 

“So we have here three pounds of onions that we need to slice up, pole to pole. You’re going to cry no matter what, so if you have any memories you’ve been repressing since middle school, now is an excellent time to dredge those up.” 

And if it happened to be 90% SerpenThyme videos, well. Sue him. 

“Now the first rule of caramelizing onions: fast and sloppy is always better than slow and thorough… at least, that’s what every man I’ve ever slept with tells me.”

Remus choked and glanced over to his laptop screen just in time to catch Deceit's trademark smirk directed at the audience just for a moment. It was the deadpan delivery that always got him. Remus could barely hold onto a joke long enough to get through it without cackling mid-punchline, but this fucker could say the funniest shit like an off-hand comment. 

He wiped his hands off on his jeans (what use were clothes if you couldn't use them as paint rags?) and pulled his laptop across the table.  He typed out a quick comment, citing the timestamp of the joke, and after it was posted, he shut his laptop. 

'Cause ass-o'clock was short for "get-your-ass-home-or-I’ll-kick-it" o'clock. 

-

[ID: A screenshot of a YouTube comments section. The first comment is by user TheDuke, and reads: "10:42 wow, rude." The second comment is a reply by user SerpenThyme, and simply reads ";)" /end ID]

-

Janus plopped down on the couch with a slight groan. He didn’t need to stream today, but he really hated missing days. Besides… he was fine. Really. 

He adjusted the camera until he was happy with the framing, and then checked the settings on his streaming software. Satisfied, he started the stream, and watched as his usual viewers rolled in. 

“What do you mean I’m not in my kitchen?” Janus drawled, addressing the chat. He glanced around with an expression of faux-shock on his face. “My goodness, when did that happen?”

He chuckled, and then gestured to his surroundings. “Yes, we are in my living room today. If you must know, my closest and most trusted friend tried to murder me today- yes, Virgil, it was attempted murder and nothing less- and I survived with nary a scratch… and a broken foot, but that is beside the point. Anyway, I’m not allowed to stand for long periods of time, and I may or may not be somewhat inebriated by pain pills and couldn’t stand even if I wanted to. So we are cooking from my couch today.”

Janus paused for a few moments to read the chat messages as they popped up. A few get well soon’s, a few theories about the “attempted murder,” Virgil- who moderated his chat for him- vehemently denying the “attempted murder” but otherwise refusing to clarify the event, and a large volume of wtf why are you streaming today, take care of yourself comments, which made him smile. But one particular comment caught his eye, almost lost amid the torrent of an active chat: wait this kinda looks like the Duke’s living room?

“Oh, VampSuga,” he said, addressing that commenter in particular with a slight smirk. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about. Anyway, since I can’t reach my oven from here, I thought some no-bake cookies were in order. For these you will need-”

-

[ID: A screenshot of a Discord conversation. The text reads:

“VampSuga: Ok ok hear me out. Dukeceit. 

Starstruck96: who?

IneffableSnek: lmao

FeralBeauYasha: lol

VampSuga: Deceit and Remus Sanders! They’re totally dating. I will die on this hill. 

FeralBeauYasha: Isn’t the duke w/ PatPat?

IneffableSnek: no thats his brothers bf

FeralBeauYasha: ohh

VampSuga: Did anyone see Deceit’s stream today? I swear that’s the Duke’s livingroom. 

StarStruck96: idk that seems like a stretch

IneffableSnek: no wait i kno what u mean

IneffableSnek: im watching the duke’s old videos and that one where he shows off all his old weapons he’s in a living room kinda like deceit’s 

FeralBeauYasha: They were acting all cute on twitter too

VampSuga: DUKECEIT”  /end ID]

-

"Hey guys, been a while since you've seen my face and not just whatever my hands are busy with, when it's within YouTube's terms and conditions I mean. They used to be way more lenient…" Remus trailed off for a moment, then shook his head sharply and plastered on a grin. 

"Anyway! In June me and a few other creators did a fundraiser for the Trevor Project, and y'all smashed the goal, so I let you decide what video I'd make this month." He paused, and gestured to the mountain of clothes piled behind him on the bed. "And you had so many juicy ideas to choose from, but you decided to dress me up like a Barbie instead."

Remus paused to scroll through his phone for a few moments. "Ah, ok, here we go. Twitter user YoonIsMyCat- oh, BTS, nice- sent in this first outfit. Uh… future Remus, put up the post here somewhere." He gestured vaguely to his right. "Y'all went with either a fuckton more clothes or a fuckton less clothes, which I respect. Apparently this outfit is called…” He squinted at his phone. “Amish chic? I take it back, no respect at all.”

Remus cycled through the outfits his viewers sent in, which ranged from the aforementioned “Amish chic” to “2008 rave attire” to “ok now you guys are just fucking with me” (which consisted of one of those big puffy snow coats, lime green in color; booty shorts with the shrug text emoji across the ass; fuzzy pink boots; and a yellow cowboy hat to top off the whole thing. It was awful. Remus loved it.) The mountain of clothes on the bed gradually became a mess of clothes spread across the floor instead, until there was just one outfit left. 

“Ok so Twitter user VampSuga sent me this outfit that I’m gonna call ‘sexy librarian.’ I couldn’t find this exact sweater online, but-” he paused for dramatic effect, before brandishing a sweater toward the camera like a bullfighter. “My boyfriend had something that was close enough.”

Remus hopped up from the bed and switched off the camera so he could change.

“They’re going to lose their minds,” a voice drawled from the doorway. Remus threw his shirt at him.

“Shoo, I’m getting naked.”

-

[ID: A Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It features a selfie of YouTuber Remus “The Duke” Sanders, a Hispanic man with his hair dyed green and styled into a spiked mohawk. He is wearing a yellow knitted cardigan over a black button-up shirt. He is grinning widely at the camera. The caption reads: “my viewers pick my outfits! now live on youtube. go see what i look like as a sexy librarian!” /end ID]

-

DukeceitStan

first and only dukeceit shipper ig

DukeceitStan

wow there’s so many of you now! Hi!!

DukeceitStan

i want this to be canon so bad omg

DukeceitStan

i mean just look

[image]

how 

[image]

cute

[image]

[ID: A series of three gifs featuring Youtubers SerpenThyme, aka Deceit, and TheDuke, aka Remus Sanders. Deceit is a black man with long, dreadlocked hair, and vitiligo patches along the left side of his face. Remus is a Hispanic man with green-dyed hair styled into a mohawk, many ear and facial piercings, and tattoos covering both arms. Each gif is edited so that the highlights are tinged yellow when Deceit is seen, and tinged green when Remus is seen.

The first gif depicts a close-up shot of Deceit’s hands as he carefully decorates a cookie with green and yellow icing. The cookie art he is working on appears to be a half-finished octopus. The gif then fades into a mid-shot of Remus, with his back to the camera, facing a canvas. The canvas is blank, and Remus appears to be laying out paints on a table to his left. 

The second gif depicts Deceit seated at his couch, facing the camera. He has many ingredients spread across his coffee table (including oats, cocoa powder, and butter) and appears to be in the process of laying out several more. The gif fades to show Remus seated at a similar couch with a similar coffee table in front of him. The camera is angled slightly downward to better show the myriad of knives spread out across the table. Remus is gesturing wildly with a morning star held in his hand. 

The third gif depicts Deceit in his kitchen. He is pulling on a bright, yellow knitted cardigan, and smirking toward the camera. The gif fades to show Remus in his bedroom, seated on his bed. He is holding up a similar-looking cardigan toward the camera and grinning. /end ID]

- 

“Remus, it’s almost two in the morning. Come to bed.”

“I’m coming, sorry. Twitter distracted me.”

“Mm. I can’t believe the bird app is more distracting than I am.”

“You should try harder.”

“Come to bed and maybe I will.”

“Ok, ok, I’m coming. Hang on though, is it cool if I post this?”

“Sure. They figured it out anyway.”

“Sweet. Ok, Jannie, I’m coming.”

-

[ID: A screenshot of a Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It reads: “Dukeceit is canon.” /end ID] 

[i-write-newsies]

(A/N): I decided to do some really simple and classic fluff after all the stuff in the last Oneshot. Hopefully, this one won't take me a literal MONTH. Hope y'all like it!! <33

AUs:

- Modern

- Coffee Shop

- College

Jack POV:

Jack is a hopeless romantic. A hidden one for the most part, but a hopeless romantic nonetheless.

Truth be told, he's never been in too many relationships, at least not ones that lasted long. He's liked a few girls before, boys too, and even dated a few. But they lasted 3 months, tops. His record for the quickest breakup was after 5 hours when the person found another person to dote on.

Despite bad experiences like that, Jack remains infatuated with love and the idea of soulmates. He listens to romantic songs on repeat, would always be ready to lend you a romcom, and daydreams about perfect dates with some fill-in-the-blank person when he's supposed to be studying Art History.

But lately, that blank template has been gaining more qualities of a certain boy from school. A certain boy with dark brown curly hair, with an adorable hooked nose, with olive-green eyes and a shy smile.

The moment his mind finally puts the pieces of the person together, he shoots up from laying down in his bed. He quickly pauses the music and struggles to unlock his phone out of a mix of confusion and excitement.

He scrolls through his contacts to the K section, clicking on Katherine's contact and pressing the facetime button. "Pick up, Kath..." he nervously mutters.

Suddenly, her face appears on the screen, "Hey, Jack! What's up?" she then notices the half vacant, half nervous expression his face is showing.

"You doin' okay?" Kath asks, brows furrowed.

"Huh? Yeah! I uhhhh..." Kath waits patiently, knowing his ADHD makes him lose his train of thought all too easily.

"Right! So, you're the only one who knows about me bein' kind of a hopeless romantic..." Jack looks down slightly, and Katherine giggles, knowing his embarrassment around loving love.

"What? Does big ole Jack Kelly have a crush?"

"I don't know!" he gives an exasperated sigh, "Maybe!"

"Okay, okay, calm down cowboy. Now which lucky person has caught your eye this time?" Jack mutters something incoherent below his breath. "What? I can't hear ya."

"Davey Jacobs."

Davey POV:

Davey sighs, taking a look at his computer.

A 2000 word essay on a topic of his choice for History due in 1 month. He knows how much time he has to finish this, and he knows that he could wait until a week until it's due to start it and still finish it on time perfectly, but no matter the assignment, there would always be a thought gnawing at the back of his brain telling him he NEEDS to get it done right now. And so he does. But he knows he needs coffee to do so.

Davey carefully slips his computer into his crammed backpack, as well as his wallet. He plans on going to his favorite cafe. The coffee there tastes like shit (though he would never admit it), but he knows the staff, and some of the baristas even attend his school. There was one that stood out to him, a certain Jack Kelly

Davey isn't sure what's so interesting about the creative student. It could be his heavy 'Hatten accent, or maybe it's his enthusiastic puppy dog energy about anything. It's kind of... adorable, I guess. He looks down at the ground while walking, trying his best to hide his red face. Davey doesn't swear much, but fuuuuuck.

He likes Jack Kelly. Jack Kelly of all people. The guy who accidentally SHARPENED HIS FINGER IN A PENCIL SHARPENER ONCE. Davey sighs, Jack may be an idiot, but no one can deny that it's charming in a way. He has tons of golden retriever energy.

Davey doesn't know what to do.

He sits down in a corner booth to avoid as much human contact as possible. He opens up his laptop and opens the tabs needed for his project. He slips on a pair of noise-cancelling headphones and attempts to block out the thoughts of Jack Kelly. The essay is number one priority right now. Suddenly, Davey sees a looming figure out of the corner of his eye. He snaps his neck up to see...

Oh no.

Fudge.

"What can I get for ya, darlin'"

Jack POV:

Davey's face heats up. I don't really consider this a win, considering that's the way most people react when I call them darling. What can I say? It's a habit of mine.

"U-uhm..maybe-" he stutters quietly.

I speak up to help him out a bit, "I've seen you here before. You always order the hot chocolate with 2 pumps of espresso, right?" He squeaks out a yes.

"Comin right up, doll" his face lights up a bright red again.

Shit. Did I mess it up? Is he uncomfortable with those terms? I come from southern roots, which has pros and cons. The pros are: I'm really resilient, my tea is sweetened to PERFECTION, and I can smell when it's going to rain. Cons: The situation that just unfolded.

As I enter the kitchen area, I sigh. I come on way too strong. I quickly make Davey's order, after all, I did memorize it. I look at the plain hot chocolate. Needs a little something. He seems like the spicy sweet kinda guy, so I carefully add a good amount of whipped cream, and sprinkle some cinnamon on top. I really shouldn't be bringing favoritism into my work, but Dave should be an exception.

Being careful not to spill my masterpiece built out of hot chocolate and whipped cream, I bring it to Davey, who seems very deep in thought, staring at his computer. Trying not to disturb him, I set the drink gently down, then I lift one of his headphones.

"Whatcha doin' Dave?"

He jumps, turning red once AGAIN. "Jesus Christ, bud, got some sorta skin reddening condition?"

"Wh- I- You-" He sputters before regaining his composure, "One, none of your business, two, none of your business."

I feign a wound and put my hand over my chest, "Davey Jacobs! So rude!" I put my arm over my forehead and sigh dramatically, then sneak a peek at him. He's laughing a little. I grin, so he doesn't hate me! Whew!

A few hours,10 drink orders and slightly too loud joking and laughing later, Davey's still here, working on some big project. At this point I've stopped charging him and have just been paying for them myself. I make my way to his table once more.

I notice his cup is empty, "Refill?" I ask, he nods. That's when I notice the bags under his red eyes. I walk back a bit and lean on his table. "You need to sleep, Dave." He shakes his head as a response and I sigh.

I make my way to the kitchen and decide to not add caffeine in this. He needs it. My hands go on autopilot as I start to think about him. He's just so... pretty.

I bite my lip. Should I...? Ah, fuck it, I'm almost done with my shift. I grab a scrap of paper and a pen and scrawl my number, with the message

'Call me ;P'

Beside it. I take a deep breath and carefully balance the cup all the way to Davey's corner booth. The sight is adorable. Davey is laying down on the table, asleep, head tilted to one side, face illuminated by the computer screen. I smile gently.

All I think about for the rest of the night is that sight. As I sit in bed, drawing the scene, I hear a ding from my phone. I open texts and see from an unknown number:

Hey, Jack?

It's Davey.

The student from the coffee shop.

I grin.

Hey Dave :P

I quickly change his contact to <3 Dave <3 with my recent drawing of him as the profile picture.

Before I know it, we're talking about everything. It's honestly so much easier texting than actually interacting with people. My brain decides to peace out for a long minute, and my hands automatically do the typing. Bad decision. Why? Because I barely even notice when I hit send.

Do you wanna go on a date with me? I was thinking about getting froyo, and maybe watching a cheesy romcom. Whaddya say, Dave?

I can only watch, petrified, as I see...

<3 Dave <3 is typing...

~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~

(A/N):

Hope y'all like this! Pt. 2 will be their date!! btw no one has really interacted or requested fanfics, so if you could vote for this or request something, that would really make me happy.

~ Race

[detectivereyes]

Darling Now’s the Time to Dry Your Eyes

written for the “stabbing” square on my bthb card (open for requests - see the board here :)

requested by @trkstrnd who said “hey !!! i love ur fics on ao3 (it’s trxtr i got a tumblr) and i was wondering if for you BTHB card you could do the stabbing plot w tarlos and/or tk owen? everything else is up to you; full creative liberty, i just really like hardcore whumps ❤️❤️“

trick, i really struggled writing this ngl but i hope you enjoy it and it’s hardcore whump enough... bc i also it’s kinda soft in spots 😅

big thank you to @brilliantbanshee @lire-casander and @sunshinestrand who all really helped me out with writing this... ily guys 💗💗💗

It all happened fast. Too fast.

That’s all TK can think about as he spends yet another evening in the hospital waiting room trying to process the events that occurred just a few hours prior.

He nervously chews on his bottom lip, not even realizing how hard he was biting down until he noticed the familiar metallic taste of blood forming in his mouth. Shit. 

He opens his mouth to take a deep breath, so as to stop from chewing any harder, and leans back trying to relax the rest of his tensed up joints. 

Why is this taking so long?

Of course he understands that any kind of surgery is not going to be a short task. But he thinks they could at least give him an update since he arrived with Carlos nearly an hour ago. 

Without even noticing, his leg begins to bounce up and down again. A trait that normally makes other people more tense is to him an easy way to release some of the anxiety that has been bubbling inside him. And fortunately for him, the waiting room is completely empty tonight.

Unfortunately that also means there’s no one here to talk him down. To reassure him that it’s all going to be okay. That Carlos is going to be okay.

No, instead he only has the comfort of his own thoughts, playing back the images that will forever be burned in his brain. 

He can feel the tears beginning to pool in the corners of his eyes. Tears he has tried so hard all night to hold in. But with no update on his boyfriend and no one here to tell him to relax, he can’t hold back any longer.

Reaching up to wipe them away before anyone does arrive, he notices the spots of red still caked on his hands. It didn’t even occur to him that he needed to wash the blood off. 

But he can’t leave. Even though he remembers passing a bathroom just down the hall, he can’t make himself get up. Not yet. Not until he knows something, anything about Carlos’ condition.

So he sits and waits. And starts to chew on his lip again.

(continue reading on ao3)

[viviswtings]

Two Years. (Pt. 1)

This is a continuation of the blurb I wrote a couple of days ago. This time from the reader’s perspective. It got longer than expected, so I’ll post the second part later. 

Hyunjin x f!reader.

Warnings: Great amount of teeth rotting fluff, slow burn and poorly written clichés. 

Words: 2209.

The first time they met, she didn’t pay him any mind. It was the other guys, louder and bolder, spitting English like they knew what they were saying, who caught her attention. And the two guys, the only ones she could actually have a conversation with, were the only people she managed to befriend. They were sweet, outgoing, it was easy with them.

She had been looking for opportunities everywhere, trying to get off her city any way she possibly could. When she found a university course that would send her far off, she found herself sending a portfolio without hesitation. The chances of getting chosen were slim to none, but she would try nevertheless.

Time passed as always, until one morning she received an e-mail, in which she was told she had been chosen for an intern program for one of the most important entertainment industries in East Asia. It was like she couldn’t function for what felt like an hour, looking at her phone and re-reading the e-mail over and over. Her brain had to restart itself by the time she jumped off her bed and went right straight to call her dad.

She was sitting in the bathroom, moving her feet and playing with the trim of her pants, when he picked up. The conversation was rather long, by the time it was over she was all ready to go to her university and talk with the University’s Secretary to get everything ready for her to leave as soon as humanly possible.

Granted, it had taken them far longer than she had anticipated, and with each week that passed, she grew more and more anxious. She had reached the conclusion that she no longer wanted to leave. She didn’t know the language, didn’t know anyone there and she had to begin all over in a new university, with a job, and afternoon classes to learn Korean. She wasn’t ready to face all of that alone.

But what she did have were good friends, and a father who would not take a no for an answer at this point. He and her grandparents were willing to risk a good amount of money- money they barely had- for her to leave and make a life for herself, something she never knew he would be so up to. And, to make the matter even more bizarre, her friends helped him talk her out of it. She had to do it. She would probably never have an opportunity that would even get close to matching the one she had at that very moment. She had been dreaming about something of the sort ever since she was a kid. And now she wanted to back out? After all she’d been crying and complaining? Not a chance. They would not let her, never.

So, a couple of months later, she had left alone, for the very first time, to a country she did not now. She wasn’t excited, she wanted to vomit, she hadn’t slept for the past week. She was afraid, the knot in her stomach made everything hurt. She even started sobbing in the middle of the flight, wanting nothing more than to go back home.

Since then it had been so long. She remembered getting to her apartment, it was small and empty, but it gave her some sort of relief to know she could spend a couple of days on it, to help her get used to everything. And, while moving the sofa all by herself for the third time that day, something kind of clicked. She realised how lucky she was, even though nothing seemed to go her way in her mind, she was in fact very lucky. She sat on the floor, though the sofa was literally behind her, and cried once more. Maybe from the realisation, maybe to cry one last time before she had to face what now was her new reality, maybe because she was afraid, or maybe because she missed home. To be honest? It was probably all of it at once.

So, she had gotten the job, she was going to class and she was attending Korean lessons as well. She tried very hard to see the bright side, for there was a very bright side to the whole thing. In the short time she had been there, she had even made friends. Which, for her, was a great improvement from how she was before. 

She also had gotten somehow used to her job, even though she barely did anything she had signed up for. She was more like an assistant to the creative team, along with other interns. She even started helping the stylist team of the band she apparently worked specially for.

That’s when they actually met. She had seen them from afar, laughing and dancing, being a bunch of very young and hyperactive dorks. But now that she could see them up close, they seemed even younger than she was. She didn’t have to interact much with them, which was a plus, as she had zero social abilities. She only had to help with whatever the stylists needed, and that she could do.

Soon enough she was helping do the makeup for the boys, and started talking to whom she considered  the human reincarnation of sunshine. He had the softest voice, and his accent just added to his whole absolutely adorable aura. They could spend hours on end talking about the most trivial stuff. He was hyper, never stopped moving, and laughed so much his makeup creased absolutely everywhere, to the point of driving her insane.

He was the one that started asking for her to do his makeup, because he grew fond of the way she liked to play with his look and not cover his freckles. The ridiculous number of selfies they took ended up drawing the attention of the leader of The Dorks, who started joining them in their impromptu photoshoots. Soon he sat next to them, adding a new approach to the conversations.

It was a matter of time before he started talking about their projects, their concepts, what he agreed with, what he was completely against off, what he wanted to do and where he wished to take them. It was her kind of conversations, the ones she could actually add something to. And so, they talked about their ideas until the wee hours of the morning, looking at their phones with a smile.

He was, in fact, older than her, caring and protective. A really fun person to be around, and he had a creative ability like no one she had ever met before. He came up with ideas at the weirdest times, spent hours on end working on them without reaching anyone to even let them know he was alive. Then, after disappearing for days, he just came back with a smile and a bunch of new ideas.

He helped her with her apartment, and she had to admit it was easier building IKEA furniture with help. They spent hours buying stuff for her apartment, he helped her finally find out how she wanted to decorate the whole thing. And, after a while, Felix started popping up at her door too. With drinks and snacks and his big, bright smile that made his eyes tiny.

They talked about how they always spent time together because they were so far away from family, and how sticking together had been the only way to not lose themselves in the midst of it all. She found them incredibly cute, seeing how they truly behave like siblings and thinking that, maybe, they were including her in their tiny family. It made her warm and fuzzy inside when the world around her was getting colder and the sun was setting earlier, making everything darker.

Even then, when she got called to an actual meeting in which her opinion was asked for, she couldn��t wrap her head around it. Chris talked for her, he showed the team the ideas the both of them had developed, the designs she had made, the concepts they had created for months. They had everything planned out to the smallest detail. Chris even had some of the songs already written out with the other two guys he used to hang around with. They got a break and went out for coffee, while she was still in shock.

“I can’t believe that just happened” She looked at him when she heard his laugh, his hands going to the pockets of his denim jacket. “What did you tell them?” She pushed him with the side of her body, making him trip a little on his own foot, but he just laughed again. Seriously, he had the ability to make her blood boil.

“Nothing much” He finally answered. “I just showed them some designs, told them a couple of ideas. They asked me a bunch of stuff and I just said I had to go get my associate so we could talk it out”. He had a smug smirk plastered on his face.

“That’s not a good look on you”. Her finger was pointed at his face and he softly slapped it away. “You didn’t do that. Don’t play me”. He faked being hurt by her words, taking his rather small hand to his chest. But it was true she didn’t believe him. It was too good to be true. The fact that someone would talk about her in a way that would make the creative team actually want to hear what she had to say.

“Why would I be lying?” He shrugged it off and pointed at her cup with his chin. “Let’s just enjoy the moment, alright. No need to think about the petty details”. She was still looking at him like she wanted to crack his head like an egg so she could read all his thoughts. But she did that sometimes so he simply let it slide.

 In the end they accepted their concepts, with the condition that it should all be ready to be formally presented the next month. And that’s how she found herself working more than she ever even thought possible. With her days full from the rising of the sun until the day was officially over. She spent hours in the studio with Chris. While he played stuff on his computer, his headphones so loud she could hear the music he was making even from the other side of the room, she was coming up with the designs she had been asked for.

On the weekends she worked on her university work, meeting with her classmates to get the group stuff done as quickly and as efficiently as possible. It was all taking a toll on her and she was very well aware. She was always tired and running on caffeine, she barely had time to breathe. She had even started skipping Korean classes because she just couldn’t make it anywhere in time. But she also refused the help that Felix was offering her, even though he was also studying and the study sessions would benefit them both.

When the day came for them to do their presentation, she found herself gripping Chris’ arm for dear life. While the creative team presented the work, they had also been doing alongside them to make sure it was all perfectly thought out, they just waited in the studio. Sprawled on the sofa and looking at the ceiling, she didn’t know how Chris could look so unbothered by the situation. She was crawling out of her skin, losing her mind every second that passed by.

“We’ve done our best”. He looked at her, his cheek squished against the sofa. “There’s nothing else we could do, so let it go. You’ll see how it’ll pay off”. She payed him close attention as he looked at the ceiling again. Chris really didn’t know what sleep actually was, huh. He looked exhausted, paler, the skin a dark purple hue all around his eyes. She couldn’t be mad at him, how she would usually be as someone reacting so poorly to a stressful situation. Her answer was a curt nod instead, leaning her head on his shoulder.

When they got a call from the team telling them it had all been approved, they went out for food with everyone and had the best night she had had in a very long time. It was, also, the best sleep she had had in months, to top it all.

Everything seemed to have fallen into place. She had made friends at work as well as in class and she was learning the language faster than she ever expected. Her apartment finally looked like a home. She was even planning on adopting a kitty to keep her company when she was doing work at home. The place she was so scared off months ago now seemed a little more like somewhere she would love staying in the long run. Somewhere she belonged.

What she did not expect was, after all the work she had put on that project, to embark another one that would require her all her might so as to not lose her mind.

Because when the cute boy in the Gucci hoodie-the one she had never paid attention to- asked her if she could help teach him English, in that soft voice with his hands in his pockets and his eyes glued to his feet, she knew she was ultimately fucked.

[roadtohappy]

Why I detransitioned

I mentioned it briefly in response to someone else’s post, but I believe this subject deserves a post of its own. It included the statement: “I detransitioned because my identity changed, and I don’t regret my transition”, to which I expressed how much it resonated with me - and here’s why.

I was, I am, and I always will be transgender. As a young girl, I developed gender dysphoria. To anyone who’s unfamiliar with what that means, gender dysphoria is a term used to describe the emotional pain and distress a person experiences when their biological sex and their self-perceived gender do not match - a body/brain incongruence, if you will.

When I came out of the closet and told my family and peers that I identified as male, I had already spent a considerable amount of time contemplating my situation. I questioned myself constantly, and doubted every answer. I did this prior to, and after coming out, and even during my social and medical transition. Not because I was unsure of myself, but because I needed to know if there was any chance that my gender dysphoria could’ve been caused by something other than simply being transgender. It was important for me to unveil and deal with any underlying issues that could’ve been linked to my gender-identity, because it’s better to find out early on and stop before you find yourself overwhelmed with regret later in life if it turns out that you were actually mistaken. I asked myself the same questions constantly; “Am I being influenced by my peers? Media? Online communities?” “Is my brain using this as a defense mechanism to mask childhood trauma?” “Am I using my trans identity to escape from my past/present problems?” “Do I have any undiagnosed psychiatric or medical conditions that could alter how I perceive myself?” “Can I learn to cope with my gender dysphoria without transitioning?” “Am I trying to mend the absence of my father and lack of male role models by becoming male myself?” “Do I have any unhealthy ideas of what it means to be a woman?” “Do I have enough strong female role models in my life?” “Am I simply not ready to become a woman yet? if so, why?”

-These are all questions you should never ever be afraid to ask yourself, no matter where you are in your transition - whether you’re in the closet or out. Early, mid or late-transition; it is never a bad time to discover yourself and make the best choices for yourself, wherever they may lead you. This is not at all meant to discourage anyone from transitioning, but rather inspire people to ask them self the right questions.

As I mentioned in my introduction-post; I started living as a boy at 15, meaning I wore boy’s clothes, and went by a male name and male pronouns. I started taking male hormones when I was 18. If you’re unfamiliar with what hormone therapy does for trans people, it essentially means that you’re taking hormones regularly to induce a second puberty in order to bring on characteristics of your identified gender. I’m now 21 years old and I had chest-masculinization surgery 8 months ago. I never wanted to go any further than hormones and top-surgery, as my dysphoria mainly revolved around my feminine voice and other minor characteristics, and my breasts. The further I progressed into my transition, my gender dysphoria decreased, as you’d expect. After having my top-surgery, I also no longer feel dysphoric about my chest. To my surprise, I now feel completely comfortable with my natural body, including my femininity.

Early 2020 when the lockdown started, I began to spend more time alone by myself, going on long nature walks and exploring my thoughts through art and creative activities as a way to “unlearn” some of the unhealthy masking-behaviors I’ve taught myself over the years, in order to fit in better among other people. (Very common coping mechanism in autistic people, apparently.) As I began this process of “un-masking” I made it my top-priority to stop caring so much about what other people think of me or how other people expect me to look, talk and act. My new mindset became something along the lines of “Okay, the way my brain is built means that I experience the world and process information differently from other people, which also means that my actions and feelings are based on a different set of experiences than other people. I will no longer measure my worth by my ability to blend in and be ‘normal’, and I will no longer apologize for being different.” And so began a whole new level of self-exploration. I played around with some of my old make-up, I started taking up fun activities that most people would deem feminine - and it didn’t make me feel dysphoric at all. In fact, I liked it. I was unapologetically leaning into my feminine side and it felt good, it felt right, it felt safe - an experience I was never able to have before I transitioned.

When the semester came to an end a few weeks ago, I found myself in a weird position. I now have two completely empty months ahead of me, I truly detest big changes like that. A solid everyday schedule sort of functions as a mental “anchor” for me. Because no matter what happens in my life, I know one thing for certain; I will go to sleep tonight, wake up in the morning, do my morning routine and get ready, get the bus at exactly 7:41AM and arrive at school 10-15 minutes later depending on the traffic. I then attend class and adhere to the school’s timetables for the next 6 hours. I get the bus home and change into my uniform, work for 5 hours, go home and do my homework, make dinner, do something fun or watch youtube, go to bed - and the cycle continues. These little “anchors” make me feel secure and grounded, they help me cope with a world that can feel chaotic and overwhelming at times. 

So last day of school arrives and I’m like “shit, what now?? One day I’m at school and suddenly there’s just *nothing* for two months?? Not only that, but I’ve just discovered that there’s a whole new side of me that I’m now free to explore since my gender dysphoria decided to evaporate into thin air.” Everything around me was changing, even myself - and that’s the moment when I decided that maybe it was time to give Testosterone a break. Whether temporary or permanently, doesn’t matter. It’s not like my body is going anywhere and I can always just resume hormone therapy again if I want to. But for now, it was time to just take a break, let go of everything and truly get to know myself. My transition is complete, and I am ready to continue this journey in a new direction. It’s been a month now, and I’m happy to say I’ve had a lot of fun just enjoying the time off and being my authentic self. I haven’t really told anyone I’m detransitioning. I’m just kinda doing my own thing, and if people want to run along with it and refer to be as female at some point then that’s their choice, I don’t really care to be honest. Name-wise, I might just jokingly suggest “Jane” when people ask, since it’s so similar to “Jake”.  I get weird looks from people when I’m out in public, because I’m starting to pass as female again, but my voice is unmistakably masculine - I like my voice though, so I don’t care what they think. If people ask why my voice is so deep, I just tell them the truth: “I am a woman, but my body was testosterone-dominant for 3 years, hence the voice.” Simple as, lol. Not only that, but I am a whole, grown ass adult, I don’t have to explain myself to anyone.

On the topic of irreversible changes, there is one important thing that I cannot stress enough; My decision to detransition does not come from a place of regret, I have loved and cherished every step of this process. I’ve heard a lot of people say this about detransitioners but I don’t have “reverse-dysphoria”, why would I?  Man or woman, I love myself and my body regardless. I absolutely needed to transition from female to male in order to be happy, I could not have attained this level of happiness otherwise. I would not have been able to accept or even come to terms with my femininity if I hadn’t transitioned. I’m still on the same journey as before, I simply took a new path.

Anyway, I best end this wall of text because it’s 3:00AM and I’m going on a 9km hike with a friend in the morning, I can’t waiiiitttt!

[naturalistwitch]

Defining my practice as an atheist witch

Coming back to witchcraft and spirituality after six years, I find that I need different things than I used to, and one of those is clarity about what I do and don’t believe in ; mapping and focusing my path so I’m more in tune with myself. 

(general disclaimer, what follows excludes cultural appropriation/closed paths)

I’m an atheist spiritualist. I don’t really believe in God(s) as most people understand them, in the sense of overarching consciousnesses that interact with human lives, have control over the world, etc. However, I still have an affinity for the concept of sacredness, in the sense of having a deep awe and respect for the Universe, as well as certain passages and aspects of the human condition. I still work with Gods occasionally as concepts/thought-forms/mythopoetic constructs that are deeply rooted in human experience, culture, and potential. I enjoy studying religion and appreciate its positive aspects, such as community and a sense of transcendance. I have a need for ritual in my life, and spiritual processes are often a godsend for my neuroatypical brain. So ideally I want to shape my spirituality as a non-theistic path that nevertheless carries deep meaning, values and transformative philosophy (so, a bit like certain paths of Buddhism). Ultimately, I see God(s) as a sort of hopeful metaphor for what humanity is at its best and deepest potential - something to strive for.

I’m a chaos witch. That’s extremely important to me and the core of that is paradigm-shifting, and using what works. So, again, deep down I’m an atheist, but I will sometimes do rituals that involve Gods, and when I do them, I won’t dwell on my skepticism, because it would make the ritual less effective. Instead, I see belief as a tool ; I switch on a capacity of my brain for faith and enter a light trance and for a moment, this godly entity appears real to me ; which allows me to enter a fertile mindspace for self transformation, insights, understanding, artistic creation, etc. Similarly, I don’t really believe in energy per se as a thing that exists, but as a useful metaphor that allows my brain to communicate with my body in a deeper way, for my intuition to give me info coming from thin-slicing, for me to feel more connected to my environment, etc. So I will work with ‘energy’ and in that moment I can’t focus on it not existing because that will defeat the purpose, I just shift my mindset. Experimenting with different states of consciousness is key. I’m an experimenter at heart, I do these things not because I believe in them per se, but because they give me good effects and a sense of power, connection, insight, transformation. My practice is centered around experience, not belief.

I’m a skeptic and an open-minded naturalist. I don’t believe in a lot of what people tend to believe in the witchcraft community, like the existence of an Otherworld beyond this one, or a ‘Veil’ between the worlds, or spirits and ghosts, reincarnation or divination,etc. I’m not a fan (at all) of a lot of new agey concepts, be it astrology, the power of crystals, ascended masters, etc. My core worldview is one that is based on science and pretty materialistic. So yes, I don’t see my practice as engaging with the supernatural, but instead with very human capacities for mindfulness, imagination, altered consciousness, symbolism, etc. That’s not empty to me. Nature is an incredible thing, and there is always more to learn, and it’s so much fun. The aim of my practice is to become a truer, more authentic person, to sustain my creative wellspring, to give my life meaning and to help other people do the same, etc - in this world, not another one. That said, I still find there is wisdom to learn in a lot of those practices, who often answer certain human needs. I’m curious, and I consider science doesn’t yet explain or understand a lot of facets of human experience, so if there is a practice that I feel drawn to and that brings me something, I might engage in it even though the explanation for it doesn’t fit my worldview. Often, there is a naturalistic explanation just around the corner. I find the intersection of science and religion deeply fascinating. 

I’m a dreamer and a poet at heart. My sensibilities are very pagan and animistic in nature. When I take a walk in the wilderness, I feel so much emotion, empathy and connection - I feel like this is a natural part of being human. We grew and evolved and learned how to think in connection with our environment. Even though those instincts don’t always concord with my naturalistic worldview, I don’t seek to limit or disprove them ; I consider them a different form of intelligence. I love stories so deeply, I’m a writer, I’m constantly thinking about metaphors and symbolism and characters and my spiritual practice is very tied into that - rituals are often a way for me to make explicit the story I want my life to shape itself into. I like being a witch as a powerful woman who owns her power in defiance of oppressive authorities and develops her own knowledge in touch with nature. There is an aesthetic-poetic side to my practice that is important - not aesthetic as in ‘social media polished-perfect’ but aesthetic as an art of signals, meaning, elegance, purpose, and beauty found in realness and authenticity. My witchcraft transcends the real of spirituality - it’s an artistic, poetic, therapeutic, creative, intellectual, emotional, physical, political, social whole.

This might seem a bit lofty - in reality most days I just light a candle and say a prayer or take a walk outside - and a bit strange to certain people - it is a fine line to walk - but to me putting it into these terms feels really good. There is power in setting boundaries. This might evolve, of course, but for now, I’m happy with it. 

[threeofchalices]

Prompt: New Moon in Pisces

Cards that I drew:

Queen of Cups, 2 of Cups reversed, 4 of wands reversed

Extra card: Four of swords

Decks that I used: The Arcana tarot deck, Prisma visions

1. What needs healing? - Queen of Cups
It’s been a while since I did some reading, and I have broadened my views a little bit, beyond what I think the cards mean at first glance. I used to act on impulse and speak thoughts the moment they come to me. And as I think about this, maybe it relates to the card that came up for me. The Queen of Cups is funny enough, a person who might be a Pisces. A figure of compassion and empathy, she is empathetic to the feelings of others, they daydream a lot and are very creative. I told myself last year that I lost my creativity, there was a policeman in my head that I created to punish me whenever I had ideas because I was too afraid of what others would think of them. The Queen of cups is also a figure who may be more sensitive that she lets on to the outside world. I’ve let harsh words that were once said to me affect me long enough. In my core, I AM sensitive. I was told by my teachers in elementary that I was too sensitive.
And for that I believe the cards are telling me that it is I who needs healing. I think I’ve begun healing last month, and I hope I never stop. I can never force myself to be someone else. I need to be more compassionate about what I love, no matter how cringy my policeman thinks it is. Yes, I can be sensitive but it can also be too much. I’m learning now how to handle my empathy the right way. If I let my past experiences keep me from moving on to the future, then I will never grow. I don’t want to be a dormant little plant, I want to thrive.

2. What spiritual practice can I cultivate? - Two of cups reversed
Two of cups reversed is about self-love. This is related to my previous card. Sometimes it signals a break up but I’m not really in a relationship with someone else LMAO.
Anyway, continuing from the previous card, I used to rely too much on what other people thought of me. I believed that I was nothing if I didn’t have anyone with me. I was projecting my lack onto other people and some found it clingy, other times I was put in a dangerous position because I ignored red flags. I didn’t even have an emotional connection with the people I tried to be around before, I was desperate. But people come and go, sometimes they have to leave without any malice, and I used to feel empty and broken up whenever I had no one to turn to. But that wasn’t a good life to live. I know now that no person could ever fill the emptiness that I felt. They are their own person, it took me so long to figure out how to start relying on myself.
I rediscovered very recently why I shouldn’t rely on the approval of others. While there’s nothing wrong with wanting validation, to feel crushed whenever no one was praising me wasn’t healthy for both me and any friends I had around me. 
Introspection is a spiritual practice, it’s something that I need to keep doing every day.
My own accomplishments are what makes me feel whole, nothing and no one can do that for me. And because they are mine, because I know I worked hard for them, no one can ever take that away from me.

3. Where is my imagination most needed? - Four of Wands reversed
According to biddy tarot, this card means I have achieved a level of inner harmony and stability. “If you doubted yourself in the past or struggled with self-acceptance or empathy, the appearance of this card is a welcome sign that you have found a sense of greater balance within yourself.” And that I am celebrating without proclaiming it to others, which is true. I’m only willing to “celebrate” so far inside the coven. I am not completely closed to letting others in my life but I am certainly becoming more careful about who I let in.
I think I’m technically celebrating by being more self-indulgent with my ideas for my art. I still have more comics to go but I’m genuinely pretty happy with each one that I make.
The shadow side of this card is also true. My family is experiencing some imbalance. My brother isn’t contributing much to the household, in fact, I can say he’s causing a lot of problems. Maybe the cards are telling me I also need to be more creative with how I approach the situation. I know I can’t do anything with my mom’s and brother’s relationship because I can’t control him, I can only try to help him whenever he wants to listen to me instead. He tends to get very defensive and my mom doesn’t exactly fold either. Deescalating has been helping a lot instead of trying to join in the argument as well. But I never defend my brother when he’s in the wrong.

4. Extra card - Four of swords 
According to trusted tarot dot com, this card says I should take the generous time I have to plan the course of my future. Well, that’s pretty easy with quarantine happening.
It was a dream of mine to have a webcomic with an engaged audience and I’m pretty sure this is what I have now. I know I want to work in a studio someday. Either to work on graphic novels or any illustration related work, I’m taking this time to thoroughly get to know the content I want to make and build up a solid portfolio. I’m pretty much booked with work for my social media. And recently something happened that made me realize I am technically an influencer. Maybe I can be the next Ethan Becker. HAHA.
Other than that, with how my brain works right now, I don’t think I can survive the conditions of having the office job that I desire. I’m going to take my time as a freelancer/influencer to make as much content as I want. To figure out who I am and what I can contribute to the world. I have some growing up to do.

TL;DR - I’m taking this time I have to learn how to be myself, to lean on myself, to fill my own cup. To achieve the happiness that no one else can take away from me.

-canis