#signed a mom who is psyching myself up

[themirokai]

Teeth are so fucking weird. They are bones that fall out of your head when you’re a kid and it’s supposed to happen.

Of course we came up with the tooth fairy to make that experience a little more magical and rewarding.

[samuelroukin]

Okay fuck it, team Roach, the 006 to the 141's 007, is roughly:

Roach: Captain Sanderson. Very soft spoken, stuck with extreme baby face despite being a hardened combat vet, tremendously calm, rational and easy going even when being shot at. Very reasonable and inhuman levels of stealthy. Never raises his voice, which is often Worse. He's not really sure how he got here but he is unfortunately Very Good at This. Which is both leadership and Warfare. In his heart of hearts he just wants to be chilling on a pool floatie with a beer in hand but Alas.

His Second in Command: Handsome, Polite, Charming and Clinically Insane. As in they are 100% fudging this man's psych evals. He seems easy going and fun but this man is basically a monster, he is the type that signed up to kill people and not go to jail. Graves but Worse. He's only technically a Hero because Roach is holding his leash but. Seriously he seems fine until you're alone in an enclosed space with him and your lizard brain sends up a panic alarm akin to being trapped in an elevator with a lion. The more he talks the more you realize he... doesn't live in the real world. For Reasons Unknown Roach is pretty much the only one that does actually have a collar on him. He Gets Real Weird and Jealous over Ghost when they finally meet.

Tex: Your Killing Machine Has Anxiety. Possibly the world's best sniper and a true mathematical genius, who has next to no social skills, the legacy of a childhood stutter and growing up in a Very Rural Isolated area. Excellent at taking directions but it's hard to not pin a kick me sign on him despite him being, objectively, a very dangerous guy. A lot of people assume he's Like That because of warfare/soldiers get strange/ptsd etc. No he was always Weird, he is definitely Undiagnosed Neurodivergent, but so is his whole family. A Cheetah in search of a Dog in his Pen. Hypercompetent in the field, who let you out of your cage otherwise.

Doc: World's Bitterest Medic. Loves humanity as a concept and truly believes in medicine as a science dedicated to the betterment of life and wellbeing. Also Hates Every Single Human Being he has ever come across. Extreme Pissed of Mom Who Says Get Your Ass Down Here Now Or I Will Beat You to Death Myself energy. Means he generally keeps them in line socially as well as the Angry Mom Friend so Tex generally hides behind him. He grumbles but he secretly kind of loves it. Unfortunately, these Idiots are *his* idiots. You are Stupid and Embarassing and he Will Run Out Under Heavy Fire to Save You at the risk of his own life. Running in joke is "does the life threatening wound hurt enough to subject yourself to his bedside manner?" Absolutely terrible taste in music he subjects them all to.

There are at least one or two more guys in this train wreck but these are the mains. Unsurprisingly something this disfunction works out horribly well and they are incredibly effective. Tired Dad Energy Roach vs You Should Have Gone Before We Left Mom Medic plus Their Frail Victorian Son of a Sniper plus I Will Kill For You Please Ask Me To Kill For You and Give Me Attention 2IC means this shit is actually A OK by the brass.

lmao didn't you just say you put no thought into them? these guys are far more developed than my ocs, give yourself some credit! they all sound great and like i said i already love tex and doc but uh HI second in command 👀

[someone-called-efg]

everything i know so far regarding religion and my experiences (big post with a lot of words and some pictures too. i tried doing the image id thing so hopefully i explained it all alright) skip at your own discretion

so, for everything ive made either a comic or drawing, then i'll explain what happened a little more underneath.

~~~

first and foremost before i start, so were on the same page, visits to heaven can occur during the time someone is asleep. this could even happen to you if you see in your dream a recently passed relative (or any passed away relative in general but for the most part it happens when the passing is recent and goodbyes didnt happen for one reason or another) and if it hasnt happened to you personally yet, you probably know someone who's experienced a visit.

with that out of the way, lets get started

---

{ image id: an 8 panel comic. 1st panel shows myself with two others sat around a table, as i joke "God, if this is a sin, strike me down". 2nd panel simply says * later that night * . 3rd panel is in 1st person perspective of me in my dream, opening a door. 4th panel shows that behind the door from panel 3 that God is there floating, his hair/beard flowing into the cloud his head is casually floating on in the middle of the room. 5th panel simply shows a lighting bolt. 6th panel shows me falling through the floor. 7th panel shows me waking up in a state of panic. 8th panel simply says: TLDR: If you call upon him, he'll answer. end id }

this is a comic regarding my first visit. at the time irl i was considering becoming an atheist, so this put a solid halt in that. the reason both people with my in the 1st panel dont really have any defining features is because i was at a psych ward at the time for wanting to unalive, and they make you sign nda's there soo, thats the best i got. in the dream/visit itself i was at home, opening the door from the living room to the porch. and God wasnt just there waiting, they kinda came through the ceiling without breaking it. dont ask me how cuz even i dont know.

---

{ image id: another 8 panel comic so here goes more typing yippee! 1st panel shows God from the side, simply saying "So". 2nd comic shows God turning forward, asking "Are you alright?", as though finishing what they were saying in the 1st panel. 3rd panel shows God an i sat on a couch, and while God looks normal sized, i look tiny by comparison, showing basically the setting. 4th panel is a zoom in on me as i rub the back of my neck, saying "i mean ...". 5th panel simply tldr's what happens as i * proceeds to vent ... a lot * . 6th panel shows God saying nothing, but, they * listens to every word * . 7th panel shows me, clearly upset from venting so much, but also now parched, as i tell God "I'm sorry, I've been talking so much, my throat got dry. Do you have anything I could drink?". 8th panel shows God from the side, for the first time smiling as they say "Of course" and a fridge magically appears at opposite from where i am in comparison to them. end id }

so, not even i really knew what all happened until years lated when i asked God if that visit was a therapy session because all i remembered upon waking up after is the last two panels and afterwards, when my mom and step dad came and told me that the year for earth was 2077 and that the north pole was a desert, then we went and had a mini feast with relatives (and maybe ancestors? idk, there was a fair lot of people and i didnt recognize a lot of them so maybe?) , then i woke up. and if youre going to ask why gods eyes arent visible in this comic when they were visible in that last one, at the time of drawing this comic in particular i didnt feel deserving of him looking at me and smiling, cuz lets face it, were all a bunch of sinners here all trying to do good at least. but at the time if i remember right i had a caffeine addiction to the point i needed 8 coffee/monster energy to get me through the day (4 in the morning + 4 in the afternoon), i since went cold turkey against both.

---

{image id : a 4 panel comic because i finally learned my lesson so i dont have to type as much pog! 1st pannel shows myself and my brother (ftm) stood in Gods temple, and i casually ask "Hey, so, can I reincarnate?". 2nd panel shows god towering over both of us easily, their response is a smile with a "Yeah, sure" as they hold something glowing in their hand that i look into. 3rd panel is glitchy, as it shows a child 1st person perspective, the child is looking down, admittedly a bit overwhelmed while saying "mom, i memember my last life". 4th panel is glitchy as well, this time showing the vague image of a woman reaching out her hand presumably to the child, asking "what do you remember?". end id }

so, for a bit of context, the dream/visit didnt start out like that. it actually started at my great aunts house (who at the time was still alive but died very soon after) it wasnt her house when she was alive, but rather, her house in heaven. my godmother was also there, and i was helping her to remember how to fly because she had forgotten the lesson. so, in total there were 4 people there (my great aunt, my godmother, my brother, and myself) and mid way through me teaching how to fly, another of my brothers teleported into the room and just casually took a seat. after the lesson we went outside and walked around my great aunts heaven house, and when we walked a little ways away there was some kinda conflict, and i simply prayed and the conflict was over within under 10 secs. then as the group of my relatives and i went walking back to my great aunts house, i mentioned to my brother my thoughts of asking to reincarnate soon, and he says to me "why not go right now" and i agree, so we teleported to Gods temple and thats where the comic picks up at. what this told me is that being lgbtqia+ isnt a deadly sin, so any member of the rainbow community isnt going to hell for simply being lgbtqia+, which i see as an absolute win.

~~~

thats the most i got for when it comes to visits, which occur when someone's asleep. but, now, its time to go over a couple visions ive had (and no im not gonna talk about when i died cuz that would be 3 posts in a row, so if you wanna see any of that just check it in your own time) because its just visions, i didnt make comics, but just drawings, which, comics are drawings sure, but not all drawings are comics. and, so i stop rambling, lets get started.

---

{ image id : the great flood. as a man drowns under the fermanent from the quickly rising water level, his soul is outside the fermanent, walking up alongside his dying body, unable to help and can only comfort his souless body by watching it slowly unalive. end id }

when i saw this, i honestly saw at least a dozen others doing this too, i also watched who i could only assume was some past incarnation of myself succumb to the same fate. and for those wondering how a soul can be out when the body is clearly still alive, well, 24 hours before someone dies, their soul's already passed on to the afterlife. where the saying 'dead man walking' comes from, because for those 24 hours, the person's already dead, the rest of the world just doesn't know yet.

---

{ image id : the battle at the end of the world. vegetation is barren from the hills as a giant serpent with black scales and glowing yellow eyes makes its way through the landscape. two angels stand in the foreground, aiming their swords to the heavens, causing a pillar of light thats base covers the two. in the distance, the sky is crimson and the clouds are dark grey almost black. end id }

so. also worth mentioning that when i looked to either side of me, there were armies of God all ready for the greatest battle and ready to take part. needless to say it was overwhelming for a lot of reasons.

~~~

so, thats all really. i could get into the couple times i saw the son of God in visits, but the first time was me in a back room with boxes and he was running by and seemed to be busy and i didnt wanna bother him because of that so i didnt say anything, and the second time we were at this park near my childhood home and i asked him if him and adam are technically in a way brothers and we both ended up laughing causing me to wake up.

~~~

from all this i understand that theres stuff im not allowed to know of my visits for one reason or another, and i kinda figure its so i dont cheat at life. because if i had all the answers, than how else is life supposed to test me.

earth is a school after all, and i at least want my place earned on Gods fridge with a magnet hopefully 🤞

[reinemichele]

I didn't post about it at the time bc I was in Such horrendous pain from periods and migraines

(TLDR the birth control I was on had switched manufacturers and it turned my mental health into the dictionary definition of "female hysteria", so to avoid checking myself into a psych ward I stopped taking it, and the au naturale amount of pain my uterus inflicted on me was So, So Much. At one point the sound of my own whimpering woke me up and I realized I'd been sobbing in my sleep, and my mom basically insisted that I take one of her painkillers. I didn't want to, as addiction runs in the family, and I had hallucinations, but I did get a couple hours of peace. My original intent making an appointment with my gyno was to just ask for a different pill, but at the appointment I was running on 2 hours of sleep and hedged my luck by asking for a hysterectomy, after having mostly given up after being told "no, I would not give you a hysterectomy unless you were in your 40's and already had kids" by every doctor I'd previously asked)

that I was living like a zombie, struggling to sleep and needing to use 2 heating pads for hours at a time, and could barely be on social media at all. But when my gynecologist agreed to give me ✨the long sought after hysterectomy✨ he apologized profusely and said that he couldn't do it laparoscopically (I assume he, being in his 60's or 70's and born and raised in this horrible little one-horse farm town, wasn't trained to use the machinery?) and that normally he would offer to refer me to a different doctor who Could do it laparoscopically, but he really didn't think any other gynecologist would agree to perform a hysterectomy on a 23 yr old. He said he'd try to make the incision scar as small as possible and below my bikini line, because he knew that a lot of patients became self-conscious of their scars.

My mom's reaction was like, the Miette copypasta. "You're going to CUT OPEN my BABY with COLD STEEL and LEAVE A SCAR?!"

(My mom is deathly afraid of surgery; it wasn't entirely her overprotectiveness that contributed to this reaction. She even really really loved this doctor because she used to work in the building across from his office, and they'd chat in the parking lot, so she'd spent years telling me I should try him. I was sitting there like, why are you getting cold feet about this now? 😭)

My reaction, though, was to say, "Oh, no no, I would love a scar! It'll be a reminder that I overcame all those years of pain that my body put me through! That's perfectly fine with me :) <3" . I Wanted to ask him to make the incision as big as it reasonably needed to be and on my stomach instead of my bikini line (so I could show it off to people . obvi . ), but I was already asking him to sterilize a 23 yr old, and I was pretty afraid that if I said too many weird things, that he might walk back his decision or decide I needed a psych eval before the surgery. I wanted that mf out of my body since I was 10, I didn't want to postpone the surgery or jeopardize my chances of this happening, so I was Trying to be Chill. Not an easy thing for me, you understand.

My mom was like, you can get a tattoo of a scar! You don't need actual abdominal surgery to achieve it!"

I was like yes I do <3 and signed the consent paperwork, had the necessary ultrasound and bloodwork and covid test to be cleared for surgery. And my scar has unfortunately faded a lot over the last 3 years, bc my doctor did keep his word of making the incision small (which was very very thoughtful of him, just like not what my bonked brain wanted) but it's still a little red in the center and the skin still feels raised across the line.

My main point in posting all this is that with top/bottom surgery, the scars are basically non-negotiable, compared to a hysterectomy having the option of being done through laparoscopy. I don't really think I want top or bottom surgery personally, but I like to think that all of us who get any type of gender-affirming surgery (which my hysterectomy partially was; it eliminated so much dysphoria. The pain was just the top reason I wanted it, and allowed me to avoid coming out as trans in my very conservative state/conservative small town within this terrible state) feel our surgery scars and feel happy and at peace from them <3 Love and peace on planet earth, etc.

(I did do a write up on my surgery a few days after I got out of the hospital that you could read if you want, but it's pretty TMI, like discussing catheters, bc I mainly wrote it for close friends who'd been worrying about me in the 4 days I wasn't really online from the pain, so read at your own risk. You can also see my face in it. I updated it a bit now to fix some pain-induced typos from 2021.)

[b0nemilk]

There is Something comfortably melancholy about waking up at 2 am in a cramped car in a Walmart parking lot because you can’t sleep. So you stay up watching the random people in the early morning walk around , commute to work , simply drifting and existing . When the overwhelming amount of sentience pushes you on a bench in the back of your brain forcing you to think , think , think about everything. It’s made me realize I don’t even know my thoughts anymore. I live so in the moment trashing any long lingering thoughts. I’ve turned my emotional processing off. I haven’t thought about how I’m In a whole new place, I haven’t really thought about how I’m working with people I won’t see again knowing everyone is a stranger here including the trees , the buildings , the signs , the cracks on the ground. I think about the people I hold dear to me and they can leave in a second . I think about how I’ve lost my mind haha . I tell a lcd therapist with tons of anonymous doctors that at I turned it all off because how does one process living ? Knowing there existence is so tiny and everyone else around you is so tiny , but yet seemingly so large . What is the best advice for knowing your whole world and time can be lost in a second Or every second slowly . What makes my life significant. I don’t feel like I am a bad person , I love hard and I’m understanding with everyone I treat people like I’ve known them forever. But why do bad things happen to me? “It’s life” a abandoned coffee mug tells me in a thrift store for 50 cents . All I’m begging for is a break let this be the one who stays , let my friends stay alive , let me not disappoint my family . My grandpa is dying . I can say it doesn’t bother me . I can say I’ve blocked off any emotional attachment after I saw him the last time years ago and I took advantage of his dementia by stealing his cigarettes in a teenage rebellion . Am I sad about this? Yes . He was a the only positive male figure in my life . He was everything to my mom . I’m jealous of my distant family . They get so much more time with everyone else but my mom had to move to America. I don’t even talk to my family other then my mom and brother . 444 . I wish I could see my cousins party and grow . I wish my aunts and uncles knew my gossip. My family is huge but I feel small? And not really apart of it . I hate my body I hate the way I look . I feel so ugly and awkward all the time. I’m insecure but loved connected and unconnected and a mess in a structure. I can’t help but to fear the inevitability of everyone leaving me . A message to my dad but I doubt he will ever be able to grasp the emotional weight of a “just hang in there “ poster hanging in a psych room med station Of a father he has been . I pinch myself leaving pricks of blood watching the clock every minute pass leading me closer to a catastrophe. Manic depression? What is it ? Emotional discharge is all it is . I’m ok ! I’m fine ! I smile I joke I work! I have a stable relationship with my friend , family and boyfriend ! Have I fooled myself? Have I pulled off the most incredible heist of my own perception! Evil laughing in my own head you fool! You fool. YOU FOOL!!!! It’s 5 am now I’m on my 180 th minute of watching the world slowly move around me . Nate’s made noises in his sleep. Which. Means around 7-8 am he will wake up and tell me about his dream. Escapism . Is the only thing we cling to . So much so people are now just living in vr. Nobody wants to live in this world anymore . We rather create our own candy flavored ignorance and inflate the massive tits of our own self hatred . We love you though. We love you! We love hard long and boy is it give us meaning ! I love you , I love you I I love you so much . Loving you makes me feel better. Spread the love man . Or was this another rose colored shades to hide the fact we are dirty fucking animals drooling over sin . I love you but I love you when I can . Because mommy’s very busy she has to work and your dad is slurring and slutting his was up the street . I love you untill your fat

[spraklecat]

I fucking HATE the depression narrative now that I was was fed that it was something ideopathic and incurable for SIX+ YEARS and that all there were were unreliable meds and positive self-talk to do doodly shit about. I didn’t seek help because it seemed useless and a waste of money, it wasn’t fear of stigma or anything. I just saw myself as inescapably terminally online and on an neverending path to decay.

Turns out I had fucking ADHD and my issue is I don’t function in non-structured environments and my problems weren’t all unrelated personal flaws. AND THAT’S SOMETHING ACTUALLY CHEMICALLY FUCKING TREATABLE. I never even considered it until I said something about my mom thinking I had it offhand and actually scored pretty high on a quick questionnaire from the psych. Who I only went to because I was at the point where life wasn’t worth living and I was just like “fuck it whatever nothing else is working may as well at this point”. On one hand I’m so relieved I do have it and there is a fixable reason for my problems because it’s the only thing that’s given me hope in years. I was terrified the test was going yo be negative because I’d be back at square zero and already had my hopes up and then shattered. On the other hand, I fucking hate that it was treated as an excuse to throw drugs at annoying kids as long as long as I lived, in the best case it was treated as something everyone finds relatable online but you probably don’t have and you’re just phone fried. If I’d known I did have actual signs of it since childhood I wouldn’t have been to quick to brush it off as screen addiction.

Well anyways, if anyone reading this is terminally online and considered lazy, forgetful, perpetually late, and can’t get anything done, well… maybe look into this sooner rather than later.

[ireceived-p8250000]

October 13-19, 2013

Sunday, October 13, 2013

It's Sunday, so we went out. We took my parents to the spa in the afternoon. All of us went, actually. I told them to be extra careful with my parents. Ransley had to wait outside and play on my iPad.

Afterward, we went to this restaurant in SM based on Roxanne's recommendation. We walked around and I shopped for Ran and Roxanne, just small treats. I also had work to do in the afternoon. I asked Mansoor if he mentioned me to his parents.

"Yung kapatid ko chinismis nya so ayun alam na nila," he laughed over the phone.

"Gusto mo ba sila mameet?" he asked.

"Hmmm ... wag muna."

"Ako din. I mean, you said your dad was a soldier and a cop. A martial law interrogator?"

"He softened now."

"Do they know about me?"

"Not yet. Hindi ko pa masabi. But I asked my mom once if pwede magboyfriend. I don't think she wants me to."

"Baka may deal ka ulit sa mama mo."

I chuckled, "You'll pay for it right? No, I mean, someday maybe next year. Kasi, I don't want them to constantly worry."

"Don't worry, I'm not, you know—we are still not ready."

"I know."

We listened to each other breathing over the line. I saw my vibrator on the vanity table mirror. After the call, I took it and tried. I did some research last night on how. It was uncomfortable at first. My feet were heating, I felt like I was getting electrocuted by my own veins. I searched for salacious materials to fuel my imagination.

I read stories from PSE and it got me worked up and moist. I had to contain my moans so as not to alarm Rox. But it was really tingly. I slept well.

Monday, October 14, 2013

I woke up early at 4 to review. My exams today were Philo and Experimental Psychology. Now everyone knows Mansoor is my boyfriend.

The whole afternoon, I reviewed for Abnormal Psych as it's the toughest. Then I did some posters for a business. I had to go back to town for my Ecology exams.

Wednesday, October 16, 2013

It's ComSci exams and that's just it. I had plenty of free time, so I did some work after that. I practiced my violin for a while and learned some new covers to keep me going. I went out to meet Mansoor, and we hung out for an hour before heading home.

We were in the post office and I hugged him. We kissed. I sucked his lips, he sucked mine. It was sweet and slow. We wanted more but that's just it. We contained ourselves.

Thursday, October 17, 2013

Exams for Abnormal Psych and it drained my brain dry. I went out for a while to buy a box of pastries at Victoria's for the girls. I brought it back before our exams in Rizal.

I took the test, and the professor was just in front of me. I finished immediately and gave it back to him. While he signed my permit, he looked at me and said, "You look blooming these days. You don't seem stressed with the exams."

I was taken aback, but I acted like I didn't mind. "Thank you."

I got the permit back and he held it tight, jokingly wanting me to pull it. I laughed for a while then frowned when I got it and left.

Friday, October 18, 2013

In the afternoon, we went to a seminar facilitated by us. It was about facilitation, by the way. Mansoor was there but we were apart, except for the last part. There was a game where we chose who we wanted to do research with, and people chose me, too, but Mansoor went with me.

Another workload today.

Saturday, October 19, 2013

It's the start of prepping for the intramurals. We had a requirement for Economics, which was to interview working people. I presented myself since I work in a formal setting and Stephanie in an informal one.

In History class, Sir Apollo announced my grades and scores proudly. We had a staring contest for a while. I had almost perfect exams, with just one mistake due to spelling.

"I would excuse it but you're a smart person, I expect high from you."

Here are my grades:

Psych 108: 90

Psych 109: 92

Econ 101: 93

Hist22: 97

Engl7: 96

Bio 9: 95

I'm really doubting my history grade. It's so high.

I met with Mansoor and we walked around. He's going away for two days for a seminar in Ilocos. I clung to him and we hugged each other, then kissed again. He's so sweet. Now we don't care anymore if somebody else sees us. We're like free.

Roxanne received her passport so I booked the flights immediately. I told her to plan it.

[thwartevil]

I’m fine, really. Thriving Girl, that's me. Every morning is exactly like this one. I slip into a respectably cute college–girl outfit and I paste on a sunny bright smile before I head out the door, pepped and ready to go through the Freshman motions. I hit the coffee cart first, which is a non-negotiable must, then I call my mom, who’s been way more with the angst since I moved onto campus. After about ten minutes, give or take one of her spectacular, passive aggressive guilt trips, I head for my morning classes with the promise to see her this Friday, (with a surprise bundle of dirty laundry to boot) fresh on my lips. My first few classes are yawners. I spend most of it going over slay-strategies and last night's hunt as I pick the shimmery-blue polish off my nails. It's really all that I can do to keep myself awake. — major kudo for my caffeine kick!!  I guess I’m being kinda harsh, the classes aren’t that dull, per se, they just don’t require brain cells, or tickle my new found academic curiosity as much as Psych or European history do. Both of which I am pretty sure I’m failing. If Professor Walsh’s most recent scowl of disappointment and accompanying, “I expect you to apply yourself in my class Miss Summers!” Is anything to go by then, goodbye to my future of financial and parental independence. Hello, playing Pinochle with my mom and all of her wine shaped friends. When I’m not flipping burgers for minimum wage. And it’s all thanks to my Fangs and Gnarly after dark extracurricular. In highschool being the Slayer never did leave a whole lot of time for the big-brains stuff, or I guess, the no brainer stuff, like sleep. But being A Slayer in college? Now that’s a whole other ballpark of intense under eye-bags. I swear at this point I’ve lost count of just how many times I’ve woken up with Vampire dust in my hair, or something way / way / worse, and the pages of one of my text books stuck to my cheek. But Persistence is key and so, I muddle through. By my second cup of Coffee-Cart goodness I’ve almost completely convinced myself that I’ve mastered the art of matriculating dealage. I sip my coffee and check my watch, it’s a quarter past one and I realize that in all my aimless moseying and self congratulations, time has slipped away from me and I’m late to meet Willow. I pull my satchel over my shoulder and I reach in with my hand to dig around for my phone. I must have forgotten to take it off silent after class because when I look at it I have a text-message from Wil. I feel my heart sink. I know what it’s about before I open it. She’s canceling. Another Wiccan emergency that I won’t understand, not that she’s giving me a chance to understand anything. She's been pretty evasive lately. I type back a quick text about meeting up with her and Xander later, before patrol and I slip my phone back into my bag.

I guess I have time to kill. I should probably use it to study. That would be the well-adjusted college kid thing to do. I look around at the direction signs and I wrinkle my nose. Months on campus and I still haven’t memorized how to get to the library. (Somewhere out there right now a cold feeling is washing over a severely perturbed Giles, I know it.) My eyes fall on a tree, the big idyllic kind with pink petals in full bloom that have begun to fall, making a pretty, inviting pink-blanket for me on the grass below. I quickly walk towards it, setting my bag and coffee down next to the stump before I sit with my back against it and take out my books. I sigh and smile softly, it’s perfect. I’m barely two chapters into classical antiquity, when an over shadow crosses the pages resting in my lap. I look up to see a man, who kinda looks like he’s been plucked straight off the glossy cover of dreamboat professor weekly, looking fixedly down at me. When he doesn’t say anything after a moment, one that is dangerously close to spanning into two and then inevitable weirdness territory, I raise my brows in question.  “Can I help you?” I ask, a faint friendly enough smile turning up the edges of my lips as I pick up a pettle and place it on the page I was reading before I close my book. “Miss Summers?” He responds in a thick, fresh off the boat, Gilesian accent. I blink up at him, my mouth stupidly agape. “Wow. Triple Deja Vu.” “Pardon me?” He frowns.

[destinimott]

My mom whose a narcissistic parent told me that I was self diagnosing. They often differ to that when you have an answer to their behavior. I know I am masking. I know that I am autistic. It is rare for a young black female to be diagnosed. People in their late thirties especially minority females are just now being diagnosed with it. My mom said since she didn't notice it in my childhood then I can't be. She is adamant that it is schizophrenia and bipolar disorder because she read about it. She refuses to accept any of the reading material I give her. She wants to be a psychologist because she went to a few group meetings and feels that people need her help. Psychology doesn't screen for narcism or autism. They're questions are generally structured towards the side effect of the medication. It's a 5 minute appointment. So the next time I see the psych I am going to have to ask to be screened. My mom keeps admitting me into the psych ward. I don't know what other answers they are looking for if she wont accept mine.

She tells me I need to 🤐🤫 the mind 🧠 to distract yourself. Meditate. So now she's some expert because she listens to apps on the playstore.

It is a cry 😭 for help. I am trying to move out so that I am not subjected to this treatment from her. She plays like the good guy and that I am the crazy one no one will ever listen to. She has isolated me from family and friends. She tells people that I have a mental illness not condition. It was hereditary so that would also be a fault of her own. There is a history of mental illness in the family. So she's the only one who didn't get it?

I have practiced these social skills. I work in customer service 🐕‍🦺 and have been doing so for the last twenty years. What you can't get it learn from home you can learn outside the home. So I took college classes that she is unaware of. She doesn't even give me credit for going to college. She thinks I'm retarded. Slow. That is the psychology of black women. They think because you are black your dumb. Ugly black doll test. Then she must also feel that way about herself. She is projecting that on to me. I'm her psychology rants if how she is so much more educated because she took such and such class and she graduated she feels she is better than me. I dropped it. I didn't see the point of contributing especially when she continues to reject the fact that I am sports medicine 🌿💉 I am an herbalist. Exercise scientist. I decided to go a shorter route and get a certificate in holistic wellness as a 🦮 we too know psychology. I have been working in the field for twenty years. We dont diagnose. We refer you to your primary care. It's a wellness center aka spa. Alternative 💊💉 is complimentary and supplementary to your Western care. Many people are abandoning Western 💊💉 because they haven't provided any answers. So I wouldn't be any different to give up on them because I found the answer myself. Self help books provide that for you. Self diagnosing is like them making fun of you for checking the Internet for your signs and symptoms. My mom feels that is ok to be judged and diagnosed by her and other white medical professionals.

Psychologically black women are the ugliest in the world 🌍 i do statistics. I don't know the last time she read a scholar study. I didn't think I've even seen her on Wikipedia. She has admitted she doesn't write papers. I would be an English lit 🔥 major if I didn't choose to go into sports med. There is only so much you can do with an English lit degree.

[jenniefromdblock]

Drained

[Originally posted on JULY 21, 2021 ]

I rushed my mom twice to the ER the other day (7/16/2021) due to her complaining about an excruciating pain on her left side.

I woke up with her moaning in pain around 7am, so I immediately got up and packed a lot of disinfectants and my laptop (I had to work) and drove to 2 goverment hospitals’ ER. The 1st one just referred us to the 2nd, the 2nd just prescribed meds. They were prioritizing COVID patients, even though their ERs are empty (shoutout to the 2nd which is QCGH). I’m not going to comment on how they handled our situation because I know they have their “reasons”. Since Mom was still in so much pain, we went ahead to Capitol Med. Yes, I know it is private and expensive but fuck it. It’s Mom.

We arrived at around 11am (I had no concept of time, I just wanted the day to be over) and we were immediately attended to. Mom was hooked up to an IV (omeprazole at first, then liquid paracetamol), blood works, urinalysis, and xray were done. When I asked her, she says the pain was level 8 and went to intermittent. There were also times that it goes away. According to her urinalysis, they found specks of blood, so they Rx’d Mom to be CT scanned for suspected kidney stones. During that time I kept on asking her if she can manage the pain, etc. She was like meh, and we were already given prescriptions so we decided that we will sign the waiver to not perform the CT Scan at that moment (the reason and backstory later). We were discharged around 4pm.

I was able to settle a bit when we got home and go back to working. Not even two hours later, Mom was again writhing in pain and she was crying “Lord, please make it stop.” Her pain tolerance is so high that seeing her in that situation was very alarming, so thats when I decided to ask my sister to call an ambulance (I was no longer in the right mental and emotional state to drive at that moment) while I prepare the stuff we need in case she gets confined.

We were brought again to Capitol Med because at least they already know us, the guard was literally like “Uy, parang kanina lang…”. We agreed to do the CT Scan and results says the pain is caused by kidney stones.

Also, even though my Mom doesn’t feel anything, they saw an 8x12x12 benign cyst on her right ovaries. While the doctor assured us its nothing and can be treated easily, they referred us to an OB GYN, who explained the next steps for treatment to us.

Honestly at that point, I hear garbled messages. I can no longer process anything because all I worry about was how the fuck am I going to pay for the hospital bills because I am super bankrupt.

The Backstory: I was retrenched in December 2020 and we were trying to survive off my separation pay (which isn’t that big amount so if you ask me, no I didn’t even have the chance to enjoy it). In April 2021, I got a freelancing job and I am in contract until December, which I am very thankful for. But what I earn is just enough for the utility bills and monthly groceries for 3 people. Yes, I also have been the provider in this house.

I only have Php 1,000 ($20) in my bank account. I have 2 credit cards that I have not been using and been paying off so I can cut it.

But I had to. I maxed out the limit of my first credit card to settle the hospital bills during our ER Visit #1. I had no choice but to do the same for my second to pay off ER Visit #2, not to mention the prescribed medicines worth 2 weeks. Oh btw, the OB GYN consultation fee needed to be paid in cash, so yeah goodbye 1k. Before, I psych myself bankrupt but I still have like 10k+ in the bank. But now, I am literally, really, very, zero balance.

At this point I am not sure how will I be able to bring her to a urologist, another OB GYN session and possible operation.

Well, going back to the main story… we got home around 12am. Mom was still in pain but at least we know the cause. Also, the pain reliever works so Mom was able to sleep enough.

I am still mentally and emotionally drained. Most of all, financially.

So that’s how the day went.

[candorsky]

You’re moving way too fast

Last night and some of today I continued to read those old blog posts, until I couldn’t find anything more on the wayback machine — by the end, I wasn’t even sure what I was looking for in them. A certain feeling? Like whatever I felt when I originally read them in my 20s, in the years around when my mom died, and nothing felt stable. I imagine that reading about someone’s life in the South of France sounded exciting and romantic at the time, but I don’t have a specific memory of that. It’s not a stretch since I had barely gone anywhere in my life. (Arguably, I still haven’t ventured very far.)

The obsession could just be a distraction from my own sadness, looking for some kind of milepost for my current emotional location. A certain smile, a certain sadness. I should know online records of any kind are far from complete. Yet I still want some kind of answer from them, if I can just search the right thing. I feel like I’ve had a few moments of nostalgia recently, tied to different eras and interests. The desire to revisit feelings from the past may be more of an obstruction than a lighthearted recollection.

I’ve been at the country house for the weekend with the dogs, the first time I’ve been here without my ex since the summer, when I was so desperate to leave. I’ve felt largely powerless to make true change in my life since then; we are in a protracted separation that keeps feeling clouded. This weekend, I feel myself being pulled into old patterns again. Even coming up to check on things after a big snowfall last week was something I absolutely didn’t want to do at first, and it felt like a familiar manipulation of my time. But the anxiety spread to my psyche, and then I wasn’t going to hope for the best over a cold weekend. I've made the most of it. Even when I managed to leave both physical and digital books currently reading behind in the city, I downloaded a pdf and used the phone app instead. I got my tax documents together — this happening so late in March is a sign of how things have been with me, not usually a procrastinator on that front. I closed my rings by shoveling snow. I soaked in the hot tub, even though it needed more shocking. I feel like I’ve been productive. Not sure that I've slept any better, but I’ve at least not stayed up late every night.

Maybe it’s the lack of stability that is the commonality. If reading blogposts by people who were at the time a little more adult than me (in age and practice) made me feel hopeful for the future then, is that kind of hope still possible for me, even if I am now older than they were then? There are pieces of it that are familiar to me now, like I’ve already lived the experience of moving to the country (though not in another country). Am I looking for aspirations?

More likely it’s just that I keep returning to the desire to really start writing regularly again, even if it’s just banal details of my life. (I set this up last year for that purpose, after all.) Reading twenty-year-old banalities could be a misdirection of the impulse. And I’m trying to relearn the confidence in writing things down and not caring if anyone reads it. Because paper journaling just feels too laborious for a regular practice and typing seems to open more. Well, I will try to be more active in this regard.

[kfanopinions]

Hey there! Little question, what do you look for to know if two persons are compatible (based on a natal chart) I saw that sometimes people compare like Idk sun, moon, asc, and If two people have like the sun: fire, moon: water, asc: fire and the other have like sun: water, moon fire, asc: water. People compare sun with sun, moon with moon, asc with asc, etc. And in this case said smthng like "They are not compatible" but If the sun sign is compatible with the moon sign like A LOT, is not good? Also, if the moon water sign is in a fire house, can work?

I hope I have expressed myself correctly, sorry if I confused you, and thank you❤️.

get ready for a long ass explanation...sorry in advance lol

you can compare the whole chart in general if you really want too lol but that would be a lot of work. go to astro-seek (dot) com and do the love compatibility for a quick explanation. if it were me (and this is just me speaking i don't know what others would do) i would look at: sun, moon, venus, and mars signs. sun - because this is going to be a small representation of who that person is in a nutshell (it's our self/ego) moon - this represents our emotions and for men this is what we can look at to get a better idea of their ideal types (the moon also represents "mom" -> so the cliché statement of men finding women who are like their mom's isn't all that cliché it could be based on this) venus - this one is self explanatory but it represents love and relationships lol mars - this one is for those who want to know the "down and dirty" stuff ^^ ***i would also check their eros sign and psyche as well for this too** now, for the ascendant (rising sign) i personally don't put that much effort into that at all. to me it's just the sign that other people see us as. how we look to them. i have a friend who is a cancer but he is a scorpio rising and looks like he's two seconds from snapping a persons neck (he looks very intense. reminds me of the death glare yuta has but for him it's 24/7) but he's as soft as a squishmallow lol so while others may put a lot of emphasis on rising signs, i don't. but if you want to compare you can.

and for your example... Person A = sun -> fire and moon -> water Person B = sun -> water and moon -> fire (no joke this is renjun and i right now <3333) believe it or not my fire moon could actually be of good use for (i'm using renjun as an example because it fits this scenario) his water moon. because his emotions could be all over the place and if angry could actually scare some people. a fire moon (doesn't have to be my sign exactly...a fire moon in general) could be the only signs that can deal with those heavier emotions. whereas our sun signs in general can find each other alluring and sexy but at the end of the day we'd bump heads a lot and probably try to both be the dominant one. does that mean it wouldn't work? no. it just means that there needs to be a lot of work done in order for the relationship to work. i'll even go further with this. i'll compare our venus signs. renjun's venus sign is a water sign and mine is an air sign. our venus signs (because of what they are) can get along pretty well together and we both like being creative and drawing (literally i'm an artist you guys haha) so this is something we can connect with and bond over. our signs also both want to connect so again, this is good. renjun's mars sign is an earth sign while mine is a water sign. now our signs are complete opposites. this can mean that we may find each other interesting and annoying at the same time. we may end up being attracted to each other but also want to strangle the other (renjun and choking...gotta love it xP) all it means is that there is still an attraction but there is work that needs to be done.

okay with the eros and psyche i took my eros and his psyche sign and it talks about destined to meet (if only...if only...freaking love this dude! he's so cute!!!!!) and metamorphosis happening (not surprising because there is stuff that says brining on change, dealing with past suffering, transforming) between our signs. it's the crazy love type of thing. the standard makeup/breakup kind of love. but there's supposed to be some life altering/growth with our eros and psyche signs being matched

** please note that because i do not know his birth time and this is just a quick example...this analysis is super basic and not very in depth, but even without knowing his birth time we actually have quite a bit of compatibility but also a lot of aggravating moments. you also need to take into account how planets when comparing affect others. example: moon trine mars, what does this mean and how does this affect the compatibility. stuff like that. what i did is a very and i do mean VERY basic comparison.***

now, knowing this between renjun and i (if we were interested in each other and wanted to date lol -> probably never going to happen...i shall now cry myself to sleep tonight...thanks a lot anon! jk) is this a solid relationship? no. does that mean it's not worth it? no. looking for that above 80% compatibility score is nice, but some people are meant to be in our lives for reasons we may only understand after the relationship is done and over with. if this is being done just for fun it'll probably explain why you may be drawn to a certain person more than others. if this is being done because you're actually interested in someone irl and want to date them...STOP! please i beg of you to stop right now! even the most advanced astrologist will tell you to not generalize a person based on their birth chart. we're more complex then what our charts show. which is why in all of my posts i say 'take this with a grain of salt.' i hope this answered your question. i had to think on how to explain this since i don't actively check my compatibility with people lol

[words-after-midnight]

Drafty, but I had a lot of fun with this one (cw: setting is an inpatient psychiatric ward):

I had plans for Christmas Eve. Mostly the same things I do every year, other than the fact that my mom isn't here to join in on the festivities. Going out for brunch with Isabelle, marathoning Christmas movies with my sister, forcing myself to sit through midnight mass with my dad and Farlane, opening one gift each by the tree with hot chocolates in the wee hours. It's not much, but it's my routine. And this may come as a shock, but no part of my Christmas Eve routine involves sitting in a hospital room in the psych ward, listening to Jeff Fucking Somers rambling to my friend about how he’s definitely buying a house in two months.

“Yeah, we’re already in touch with the owners,” he says in that infuriatingly nonchalant tone of his. The one dripping in polite Southern cockiness. After over five years of knowing this asshole against my will, I know it all too well. “Just waiting until I turn eighteen so we can sign the papers.”

“Who’s ‘we’?” asks Daphne, sitting on the edge of his bed. “You make up new parents?”

“Hilarious,” says Jeff. “My uncle’s co-signing. Funny, considering I have probably five times his money.”

I can’t take this anymore. “For fuck sakes, you’re not buying a goddamn house.”

Jeff grins at me. “Says who, huh? You?”

I just shake my head, looking down at my book.

“This the Pinebrook place or the East Mountain place?” Daphne asks.

“Neither," says Jeff with a grin, casually running a hand through his thick, curly blond hair, pulling the locks back from his forehead. "Place we viewed last week in Pittston.”

Daphne raises an eyebrow. “You want to move to Pittston?”

“Don’t discourage him, yeah?” I snap. He responds with an over-exaggerated, mocking glare. I glare back in unadulterated sincerity. He smirks, rolling his eyes. I catch a glimpse of the bright-eyed thirteen-year-old boy I thought was everything I wanted to be the first time I saw him, in Dr. Ross's outpatient waiting room, coming out of his office with Catricia. I can still remember how fascinated I was by him before he opened his mouth and started speaking.  

“Pittston’s nice,” he says, turning his attention back to Daphne. “Away from all the hustle and bustle of the city.”

I snort derisively. “Ah, yes, the stifling intensity of Scranton traffic.”

He ignores me. “Plus, the house is fucking bomb. Old Victorian style, five bedrooms plus a guest. Sick basement.”

“I’m sold,” says Daphne. “Let me know when I can move in.”

“You’re gonna move to Pittston?” I exclaim. “With him?”

Daphne shrugs. “Why not? Beats couch-surfing.”

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[libraford]

gods as someone that was raised in several churches (mom minister so I got all the shitty behind the scenes drama starting at like 4yo and never really believed beyond general agnostic-ish feelings. which apparently is a super common trend for pastor/minister kids to nope tf out of the church asap) the 'forcing you to be The Right Christian™ Or You Don't Deserve™™ Charity' thing hits hard. especially when I psych myself out of asking for help because I'm constantly remembering how openly hostile some of those places are to even poor christian people using their services.

like one particular church (the "open and affirming" one that threw the only trans woman out of the 20 person congregation because the old white guy treasurer learned she was trans after like 8 years and suddenly didn't want to look at her, or "worse", hear her sing) had a monthly meal for the (very poor neighborhood) community. they'd make everyone pray to God for 20 minutes before letting anyone touch even a slice of bread, but lock them out of the sanctuary during church hours because they were, I wish I was joking and that this wasn't a direct quote, "dirty homeless looters". you had to pray correctly to get food but don't you dare sully the churches doorstep trying to attend worship. meanwhile the church people organizing it are going off about how dare these people be standing in line for food instead of attending church as Real Good Christians Should.

🙃

That's fucking frightening and unfortunately I have my own similar stories.

Tw for racism, homophobia, anti-Muslim, and just... really bad stereotypes.

One of the reasons I started walking away from the church (there's a couple reasons) was at our summer mission trip (yes, I know.) In previous years, we had kept local: deep cleaning the homeless shelter, renovating the local Latino advocacy building, soup kitchen stuff. But one of the (more wealthy) girls in our group wanted to try doing a mission abroad.

Best we could do is Toronto.

We signed up with a shelter there and they gave us some tasks. The shelter REALLY played up how bad it was in this part of town- the gang violence, the culture of sin, the regressive way the men treat women in their home country.

So like... I'm from America. I've been to Chicago. Not to compare but like... hmm..

So during the introduction to how terrible it is in Toronto (...?) Our ambassador takes us through parts of town to show us what it's like to be homeless there. It was a very somber thing. We were given a small amount of money and we were to pretend it was all we had. Try to survive on a few coins.

We take our tour. Remember that this is supposed to scare us.

She takes us to an area where we hear drums. We hide behind a building. "You hear those drums? This is a homeless village. Young people come here seeking community, but you will be turned away if you cannot provide a service for them. They will only use your body for so long."

So... I'd been to drum circles before. And this was very much a drum circle. Like sure these people were a little crunchy, but it was pretty clear to me that these guys were just cutting loose after the day of work.

She takes us to the red light district.

"This is the red light district," she says. "This is where all the homosexuals come. You see that there are many young people here who are attracted to the high life. But you will see: the older men will always come looking for the younger one's to manipulate and that's how many homeless people become prostitutes."

I, a half-in-half-out of the closet lesbian, for the first time in my life, saw two happy gay men arm in arm and it was moving for me. I saw people having a good time. I'd already figured out she was full of shit. Now I was mad.

So we get back to the church we're staying at and I'm already having second thoughts about this visit to Canada. She tells us that our mission this week is to tutor some Somali kids in English and math.

... I feel... oncoming dread.

They didn't give us a lesson,plan or anything. Were supposed to just help them learn where they're stuck in their lessons. And then on Friday we'll have a trip to the museum of science and industry.

I was the only one in our group that had ever encountered a Muslim to know that Friday was their holy day. And that was when I realized that it was a conversion tactic. I asked her about it like... 'is Friday really a good time to do that?' And she was like 'well, it's the last day you'll be here and we want to celebrate don't we?'

And I was livid, but I was in a different country with a bunch of people who believed this woman's lies. And I didn't say anything to my friends because I was already kind of an outcast there, no one was going to believe me.

So I held my tongue, but from then on I lost a lot of respect for Christian-run charities and even now I'll always be looking for their angle.

[tsunderedoctor]

Ummm hello tsun! I've been following your content for quite sometime now, and reading them all made me feel happy. Recently, things had not been so great. I've been feeling ill, I haven't been taking care of myself, and I just found out that my father was cheating on my mother which really took a toll on me.

Can I request like Law just giving comfort to the reader who hasn't been taking care of oneself because of the recent bad news that they had been recieving the past months? The way you describe Law is so wonderful. The way he gives comfort to the reader even he tends to be the unaffected by feelings.

I'm looking forward to your future posts, have a great day!

I completely understand your pain (not the circumstance, but the pain is still there) and am going through that today which is why I figured now would be a good time to write this. I hope you are doing okay and know you are so loved in this world, even if it doesn't feel like it. I apologize for making this extra mushy lol.

Seeing your tearstained face always made his heart drop, his anxiety spiking through his blood as he tried to piece together just what happened today to cause such a scene. When you had told him the news about your parents it began to make sense in his brain why you looked so distraught. 

Though he never understood that pain, his parents always painted the fairytale story life in front of him and his sister. He does understand the grief that comes with losing that happy-go-lucky image you pictured them having. 

He already knew you didn’t feel well, the physical pain already taxing on your mental health, and now the news too? He wasn’t a psychiatrist, but he could put together these two circumstances can put an even heavier toll on your already faltering psyche.

Law is never good with words (unless they were about insulting people-), so he usually shows his love through actions. Whether it be making your favorite meal or just holding you. He will do his best to reassure you physically that he is here for you and that everything is going to be alright in the end. 

Holding your body close to his own cool skin, he sighed as he breathed in your scent. Here he was trying to make you feel better and he was already relaxing from you being so close to him. Letting you get comfortable in his lap, he leaned his head against your own in a calming manner. Grey eyes closed, he hummed a soft melody he remembered his mother used to sing to help him sleep on stormy nights. 

Looking up at the man, you sniffed away your tears and listened to his soft voice. Doing your best to stay quiet, not wanting to interrupt him, you waited until he finished humming before letting your question out. “What was that from?” 

Looking at you from the corner of his eyes, he coughed awkwardly before answering. “My mom used to sign it to us.” 

Nodding your head, you pulled the man close, kissing his chin as his stubble tickled your cheek and nose. “Thank you Law, it was beautiful.” 

Feeling his cheeks heat up, the man didn’t answer, only pulling you closer to his cool body. Resting your head against his chest, you smiled as you played with the string of his jacket. It’s going to be okay, it will work out in the end, and more importantly, you aren’t alone. 

[wh6res]

UP IN SMOKES — DOYOUNG

psych student! kdy | tw. college au, violence, a knife, GASLIGHTING, hallucination, psychosis, swearing, just pure manipulation, minor charac death, there's a court scene, this is a repost! | wc. 10k she a beast

life could’ve been simple;

you shouldn't have met kim doyoung.

what does a freshman in college hate the most other than the high-stress levels of moving into a new dorm? a shitty roomie and a smelly, moldy mattress. the girl you call roommate refuses to help move the mattress because it will ruin her new manicure. what a fucking classic. 

"sounds like a 'you' problem. figure it out yourself, plain jane." 

she said before heading out, annoyingly popping her bubblegum as she kicks a few of your scattered boxes by the front door. you roll your eyes; classes haven't even started yet, so why is she already making your life miserable? as much as you'd like to snap at her, you don't, merely glaring daggers at her back as she finally turns the corner of the hallway and disappears. 

"bitch," you mutter under your breath. 

you eye the abomination that is supposed to be your bed, cursing how you shouldn't have made a 15-minute pit stop to starbucks for a drink when you could've just bought one from the instant coffee vending machines in every corner of the hallway of this dorm building because if you didn't, maybe you could've beaten regina george wannabe from taking the better bed. sighing, you suck it up and start getting to work. life's full of shit, anyway; no point sulking.

moving a moldy mattress is easier than you thought, to say the least. you can't ask for help from the other freshmen you bumped into in the hallway because they, too, are under a huge amount of stress from the move and are busy getting their affairs in order. it was a good thing, though, that a committee was formed specifically for this day to help out the freshmen if they were to stumble upon problems or mishaps with moving in. they were all around the campus, and they prove to be way friendlier than your batch mates. since this morning, three people have already offered help in carrying your luggage — which you have politely declined.

"hey, uhm… is this the stall for the welcoming committee? oh, wait. i'm sorry, there's a sign right there —"ugh.

you mentally shut your eyes in humiliation. why do you have to be this bad, this awkward at communicating with strangers? why couldn't you be born like all those socialites who already (probably) got their contacts filled with new numbers on the first day of school or something?

"yeah, this is them — welcoming committee, i mean. how can i help you?" he smiles, sweet, radiating the epitome boy next door aura as he looks up at you from where he's sitting behind the stall. your eyes quickly land onto the name tag stuck on his varsity jacket before meeting his eyes again. 

"i have an issue with my mattress. it has mold, you see..." your voice slowly trails, becoming quieter as you feel small under the weight of his piercing stare. oh, come on. he's just a guy with a beautiful face, woman the fuck up.

"really? let me see..."

he needn't finish rounding the stall when his nose is hit by the pungent smell brought forth by your mattress. frankly, you weren't that picky. you could've covered it with bedsheets and call it a day, but the odor is too strong to ignore. you mentally hope the smell didn't latch onto your clothes, especially not when someone so cute is around — what a bad first impression.

"oh, god!" he exclaims the moment he lays eyes on it, taking a step back. “now, that has to go. and you lugged it from the fourth floor?" 

ah, yes. according to tradition in these dormitories, which you've only found out today, freshmen get the curse of climbing four flights of stairs up while the seniors strut into their rooms on the ground floor like the hallway is a goddamned runway. 

"doyoung! help me carry these!"

someone calls his name as you both turn your head to spot a chestnut-haired girl clad in the same varsity jacket he's wearing. you grimace at the sight of her. for someone so small, she just had to volunteer to carry all those heavy bags. however, he doesn't move in front of you and brushes her off as if she doesn't look like she's carrying rocks over her shoulders. "i'm already helping someone else! go find taeyong or something. i'm sure that shit's loitering around here somewhere!"

"oh, it's okay, you can go help her. i'll just look for someone else —"

"nah, it's fine!" you try hard to school your face into indifference when you notice his gummy smile. "plus… trust me when i say no other person from the committee will help you with this. this shit smells like my roommate's sweaty basketball socks!"

you can't help the smile forming on your face as you help him carry the mattress off to the side of the hallway, the stinky thing leaning vertically against the wall and behind a huge terracotta plant pot. "don't worry, let's report it to student affairs so they'll get you a new one. congrats! you'll have to share beds with your new roommate tonight, freshie. it'd be a great ice breaker."

the universe truly hates you.

your expression must've been a dead give away because he's suddenly patting your shoulder, regarding you with utmost sympathy. "been there, done that. i hated taeyong, too, when i met him last year. still, for some mind fuck of a miracle, we've grown to be friends and developed a talent of not wanting to kill each other every two seconds."

"highly doubt i'd be friends with a regina george-level bitch, but thanks, anyway," you mutter under your breath. suddenly, you whip your head towards him after internalizing what he just said. "you met your roommate last year? you're a sophomore?"

he scoffs, leaning down to your height to lowly mutter against your ear as he eyes the lobby's front desk. "why? do i look like some 4th year who radiates 'don't touch me' energy?" 

you feel the heat on your cheeks with how close he is, only releasing an exhale when he finally gets out of your personal space. "i'm kim doyoung. you've heard it from wendy earlier, but anyway — i'm a 2nd-year psych major."

"no way!" you exclaim, a little too excited. "i'm taking psych, too!"

"oh, you are? well, if you need anything or if you don't understand stuff…" he winks. "feel free to approach me anytime."

hmm… how sweet of him. 

it was only hours later that you found out who kim doyoung is in your department during the acquaintance party. and for god's sake, you found out from your best friend who is a major in english lit and has never even seen the guy. "seriously, you didn't know he's a genius? i hear the professors call him a prodigy, girl! a fucking prodigy. if i were you, i'd ask for his help in every subject."

"you know i prefer keeping to myself. how'd i know stuff like that when i have no one to talk to in the psych dorms?" you look down, making the ice cubes in your drink clink against each other. "i didn't think he was this big shot or whatever. he looks normal, and everyone treats him normally."

"well, what do you expect?" she hisses, hitting your arm. "the other students don't want to make him feel alienated or something just because he's tons smarter than them. but anyway… the real question is…"

you roll your eyes when she pauses for effect, tentatively leaning closer to whisper under her breath. 

"is he cute?"

you didn't want to answer her question, but he's been stuck in your head since he offered walking with you to the student affairs office. doyoung had smiled his cute gummy smile and had even ruffled your hair before leaving you for committee duties — saying he's cute would be an understatement. 

"you have no idea."

for his first act;

he gains your trust.

fast forward to one year, many things have changed, but the only constant remaining is the handsome sophomore — who is now a 3rd-year, by the way — whom you've met on your first day. coursework has been pretty tough this year. instead of the content written in your textbook, your mind is plagued by the horrible twist of fate your best friend had encountered; she didn't have enemies. or so you thought.

she disappeared in the middle of christmas break last year. her beaten up body was found only a month later, in january, floating around the university's lake. happy fucking new year. 

the first time she chose to spend the holidays with you instead of her family back in her hometown, and that happens? some rotten luck you both have. it's why you didn't put it past her family to hate your guts with strong convictions. it's okay. the feeling's mutual. after all, it had been your best friends' own family, the same ones who had been so willing to take you in when you got kicked out, that were so eager to pin you as the murderer of their child. all under the argument that you have been the last person seen with her. 

oh, the things her mom said about you when she had stormed into the police station, red in the face, tears streaming down her cheeks..."i warned my baby not to hang out with that — that bitch. came straight out of a cursed family, that one. abusive dad, a nutjob mom. that bitch is a danger! probably got her dad's nasty temper and beat my baby to death! i want her on the electric chair!"

in those times, you once again realize this world is fucked up and cruel in every bit of its glory as you fought tooth and nail to defend yourself. but even then, they never believed you — the law will only favor the rich . the prosecution had been so sure it was you until a certain witness appeared and presented himself before the jury.

"do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?" 

doyoung raises his right hand, fixing his stare straight at the judge. "i solemnly and sincerely declare that the evidence i shall give will be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."

"how long have you known the defendant?" the prosecutor asks, arms crossed in front of her chest as she paces in front of the witness stand.

the boy briefly meets your gaze, and it's enough to make his heart sink. doyoung can't bear seeing you in those grey overalls when he knows it himself. you're being accused of a crime you didn't commit. "i've known her for one year."

"how'd you meet?"

and the questions went on and on; your defense attorney isn't all too keen on winning the case and had never once yelled "objection!" in her seat, but what could you expect? all the evidence kept stacking against you, and some of those you knew were even fabricated. you've never felt this hopeless in your whole twenty years of living. 

"what's the point in this, anyway?" doyoung snapped in the witness stand, fiercely glaring at the prosecutor. "how is my history — or lack thereof — with the defendant any relevant to the case? you're not even asking me about evidence nor what my statement is!"

"easy there," the prosecutor retaliates, jaw locked. "i have to first measure what exactly your relationship is with the defendant for us to think twice about your statement. who knows..." the prosecutor makes a grand gesture of turning her head in your direction, affixing you with a condescending stare. "she might've just hired you to say these things."

your attorney doesn't come to your aid.

"perjury isn't my thing." 

the prosecutor seems to have taken offense by the tone of doyoung's voice, but he doesn't let her speak further. "the victim isn't all sunshine and rainbows, you know. she'd been a part of a sorority and one with quite a nasty reputation in the college, too. i have to say she made very poor decisions, ones i'm sure her family didn't even know about. you see, they take their oaths and pledges very seriously. the victim wanted out. they didn't like that."

"and you have evidence to support this claim?"

without a moment to waste, he digs around the front pocket of his jeans before proudly presenting a black usb between his slender fingers. "knock yourself out."

the professor calls your name, snapping you out of your reverie. this isn't the first time your mind had transported you back to that particular day in the courtroom, where doyoung had swooped in and saved you from a lifetime in prison. the whole ordeal had been so scary, so frightening that you remember everything vividly as if it had only happened yesterday.

the classroom is empty. even your social psych professor has long packed up his stuff and is already standing by the classroom door. damn. were you that out of it?

"i'm so sorry." you mutter under your breath monotonously as you walk past him and out the door without another word. this is bad, very bad. no one would help, much less lend their notes to someone charged with murder — especially of their very own best friend. whether you were innocent or not doesn't matter to the student body. you've been ostracized, gossips of your problematic family spreading like wildfire, and the ridiculous part is only a fourth of the gossips are true.

the damage is done. 

at this point, you realize with a heavy heart that you have to face doyoung again sooner or later. you haven't talked to him at all since the start of the new school year, ignoring his lighthearted greetings in the hallways, rejecting his calls, ghosting his texts. you are afraid people would judge him harshly for hanging around you. frankly, you were embarrassed to ask any more favors from him with how much he's done for you already and the fact that he had seen you in such a state of vulnerability.

but you also didn't want to fail your subjects and lose the one thing holding your life together — your scholarship.

that is why you found yourself standing before him, in his favorite spot in the library tucked behind shelves upon shelves of books, next to the windows overlooking the empty football field. he's wearing black-rimmed glasses and is clad in the usual navy blue sweater as his head turns to and fro between a textbook and his notebook. the air had been so silent, you hear the aggressive scratches his pencil makes against the paper.

you feel a little hurt when he makes no move to acknowledge your presence, but you think back to what you have been doing and figured he has a right to act this way. 

"hey, doyoung." your voice is meek, hesitant.

"if you're not here to explain nor give me an acceptable reason why you've been ignoring me for the last few months, then please get out of my sight. i'm busy, as you can tell." he is brutally honest, knocking down the remaining hope you have left of ever reconciling with him.

something within you snaps, the steady streams of tears running down your cheeks as you pinned your stare on doyoung's open pencil case lying on the table. you have nobody left. your family — father, specifically speaking — has disowned you for taking a course your heart wanted, and the one friend you have lies motionless in a white coffin buried six feet under the ground. you didn't want to lose doyoung, too, no matter what role he plays in your life.

"i'm sorry," your voice cracks. "life's been… fucking shitty, and i'm sure you of all people know what i've been through. i've thanked you before for — for what you did, and i'm thanking you again right now but — i'm sorry, i'm really —"

your voice cracks when you feel him pulling you into an embrace. you feel the tension in your body breaking loose as you crumble in his arms. all those months grieving and wallowing in self-pity took such a heavy toll that you can't help but tightly clutch the sides of his hoodie, scared he'll slip through your fingers.

one of his hands comes up to push your face against the crook of his neck, muffling your cries in the silent library. doyoung felt like a jerk for snapping at you the way he did. how inconsiderate can he be? however, he felt elated because you sought him out yourself and wanted his help of all people.

his eyebrow raises in amusement. 

well, not that you have a choice, anyway.

it took you a few good minutes to calm down, cringing when you see the wet patch on doyoung's sweater because of your tears. 

"why don't you tell me everything, hmm? i'll help you as much as i can."

you sheepishly look down, fiddling with your fingers as you sit across him, the open textbook and notebook before him long forgotten. "well, i've been so out of it lately? my mind's just a whole bloody mess and i can't focus on any of my subjects at all and if i can't, then i'll lose the scholarship and it's the only thing i have in my life right now —"

"hey," doyoung cuts you off, placing a warm hand against your forearm to calm you down. "you won't lose that scholarship. trust me, okay? why don't we arrange tutoring sessions and i'll even lend you some of my notes from last year. what do you think?"

"okay... thank you, doyoung."

"for the record, you have me in your life, too. i'll always be here for you."

in the first session, you woke up from your deep slumber with only 15 minutes to spare from the scheduled time, but thankfully, your tutor only lives one floor down with the rest of the 3rd-years. bringing nothing with you but a pen and a pad of paper, your textbooks were destroyed as some students from your batch thought it'd be fun to throw them into the lake to "honor" your friend. 

you offer a small smile when taeyong opens the door, sporting an oversized shirt and track pants, eyes wide in shock when he sees you. "hi? can i help you?"

"hello! i'm here for doyoung. he's tutoring —"

"he doesn't live here anymore. his mom bought him a place outside the campus."

what?

"i'm sorry for disturbing you, then. do you by any chance know where he lives?"

that's weird. doyoung never mentioned he's already moved out. you feel a wee bit irritated that he forgot to tell you; it would've saved you the embarrassment of interacting with the varsity player. you weren't stupid, you can see the hints of repulsion in taeyong's eyes the moment he opened that door and saw you standing before him, no doubt thinking about: oh, look, it's the crazy murderer with a fucked up family standing in front of me.

he had shut the door in your face. you stood awkwardly for a good minute in the hallway until the door reopens, taeyong handing you a small piece of paper with doyoung's new address scribbled hurriedly in black ink. he doesn't give you a chance to thank him for he's already closed the door again without another word. 

you opted walking to his place instead of catching a ride because the money you have on you is enough to buy yourself dinner. to say the least, the apartment building is mediocre, not too grand, nor is it too rundown. double-checking the floor level written on the paper before pushing the elevator's button, you then realize doyoung lives on the very top floor of the building.

the hallways are painted a boring brown. some acrylic number signs plastered on the doors are broken, hanging vertically with one screw left. it says on the paper he resides in room 720. taking the right hallway, you mentally count as you eye the mahogany doors. 718… 719… there it is!

when you raise a fist to start knocking on his door, there is a tinge of hesitation surging through you. perhaps being alone with a boy in his apartment is not the best setting for a girl like you should end up in, but this is doyoung we're talking about. if he had ill intentions for you, it would've manifested a long time ago. you shake your head, feeling bad for thinking of him that way as you slowly knock on his front door. not long after, it swings open, revealing the 3rd-year in a white shirt and boxers as he lazily dries his hair off with a small towel. 

"you're late," is the first thing he says to you before spinning on his heel to disappear further into his humble abode. 

"you didn't exactly inform me you've moved out of the dorms. so, whose fault is it?" you retaliate, inviting yourself in and closing the front door shut.

"whatever. let's get started!" he plops himself on the floor, coffee table filled with loose papers as he struggles to find a specific one amongst the mess. "i've already scanned, exported to pdf, and emailed you my notes. it should be in your inbox by now. anyway, answer this quiz i made so i know what i'll be working on."

"you didn't really have to send your notes, doyoung. i could've just read everything from the textbook," you sit down across from him because otherwise, you'll be too distracted to remember information. 

a thought crosses his mind. with what textbook?

"i just think it's missing some essence. that's why i love reading over other psych books in the library for fun. be grateful, those notes are like my babies and i don't simply give them to anyone," he looks at you pointedly. "they've all been summarized and explained in layman's terms so you wouldn't have to spend grueling hours of reading and trying to make sense of the big words as i did — i know that's not the definition of 'fun' normally, but it is for me, and that's why i do it."

"okay, doyoung. you sound so defensive when there's nothing to be defensive about," you tease, feeling pleased with the hint of red on his cheeks as he averts his gaze from yours, muttering incoherent words under his breath.

you spent the following tuesdays, thursdays, and sundays like that; hours upon hours with no one but your tutor, laptops with tangled chargers, a printed copy of his babies, and a mountain pile of loose papers filled with the specialized quizzes doyoung makes to measure your progress. the location varies from a cafe or his flat. but in what you've gathered from the time you spent with him, doyoung's a homebody. cafe tutor sessions are rare, and he always complained about how "noisy" the atmosphere was — "i can't stand it."

but the conversation hadn't always been about academics. 

sure, for the first few sessions, doyoung kept an image of professionalism and had heavily insisted on it — "it's for your learning experience!" — despite your lighthearted teasing. but as time passed and he eventually grew more comfortable in your presence, you find the strict 15-minute break he had initially imposed between 45 minutes of studying turned into hours of talking about whatever; how he likes his eggs in the morning, your favorite coffee brew, his favorite show, your strongest pet peeve. 

and you wholly welcomed the change, not minding that it's practically dark out whenever you go back to your miserable dorm. you feel butterflies in your stomach whenever doyoung offers to walk you home but never had you taken his offer, still cautious of other people seeing you both together despite his constant reassurances. you've already thoroughly ruined your image. you didn't want to ruin his, too. 

kdy the cute tutor, 2:14 pm —last day of midterms! & its all majors today  —good luck —remember what i taught u —lets get ice cream after u cant say no

you shake your head bemusedly. his texting style is the most doyoung thing he does and it's as if you can hear him say these things to you in real life. too caught up in your own world, you fail to detect another student sitting next to you and had nearly fallen off your chair in shock when they spoke.

"why are your notes like that?"

you fight the urge to glare at the person, especially when you turn your head and see lee jeno looking at you in genuine curiosity. he's the only batchmate that treats you a wee bit nicer among the rest. although he isn't technically your friend, at least he doesn't look at you like you're a piece of bubblegum stuck under his shoe like all the others.

"what do you mean?"

"they're… the definitions are all jumbled up. where did you even get that?" 

what? jumbled up? doyoung himself said these notes are a combination of most of the psychology books he had read last year concerning his subjects. how would it be jumbled up? then again, lee jeno was not tutored by the prodigy himself. maybe things are bound to seem "jumbled up" when information is too great to understand for a feeble mind. 

just as you were about to claim these notes aren't yours, the professor has already waltzed into the classroom with a thick wad of papers — the exams. after one last concerned glance directed your way, jeno averts his gaze with a confused tilt of the head. 

hours later, you walk out of the classroom with the biggest smile on your face. aced it, you thought. your hands feel numb with how much you wrote on the essay portion but it's worth it if it meant you get the full 25 points, which you no doubt will as it was a topic you surely tackled with doyoung. speaking of... he sure is a man of his word.

"what are you doing here?" you hiss, head ducked with hair framing your face as to not draw attention from the rest of the students filing out of the testing hall.

"i texted you that we're getting ice cream. remember?"

"i did. but i didn't remember agreeing."

he shoots you a comforting smile, planting his hands firmly on your shoulder. “i told you, y/n. i don't care if they all see us together, so what? we all know you didn't commit that crime and it wasn't your fault you were born into the family you had. i don't care about the trivial things, baby, so don't shy away from me, okay?"

how the fuck can you say 'no' when he's looking at you the way he is as he brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear? doyoung's just so bewitching that he has you wrapped around his slender fingers. he seems pleased when you stumbled over your words as you come up with a reply, caught off guard by his bold gestures.

"i just — you, uhh — fine..." you gave in, rolling your eyes out of pretense.

he just had to call you 'baby' and erupt the butterflies in your stomach.

it had been doing that for the last few months now and it had only truly manifested today when he took you out for ice cream to celebrate the end of hell week. and since you didn't want to go back to your dorm yet, you asked if you guys can watch some movies in his house but it had simply become background noise to your heart-to-heart talks. and what better accompaniment than the classic, chicken and beer?

you listen to him drone on and on about the little realizations he had on some of his past lectures even when you barely understood anything he's saying. doyoung's so lucky to be extremely good at something he's so passionate about, talks about the human mind and the complexity of a person's behavior will never fail to make his eyes light up in interest.

he calls out your name.

your eyes snap open.

"why don't we get you home? it's past 10 and it's alright, stupid, you don't need to pretend to be interested in my psychological findings." he chuckled light-heartedly, stealing the can of the now room-temperature beer from your hands before you can protest. 

"i wasn't dozing off, i swear."

"i caught you in the act. stop lying."

like all the other times he has you as his guest, doyoung once again offers to walk you home and you decline for the thousandth time. it really isn't that much of a long walk anyway. you don't see the need for him to go out of his way to secure your safety. plus, you were the one who insisted on hanging out in his house anyway. you weren't that thick-skinned to let him take you home, too.

"you're drunk!" he scolds.

“no, i’m not. i can perfectly handle myself."

"but —"

"bye!" 

you feel a little guilty for shutting the door in his face. still, a minute longer of his persistence and you would've taken his offer. unfortunately for doyoung, you are one stubborn girl. only if you don't make brisk movements with your head, then you won't see doubles. you'll be fine, it's just a quick walk and it's not as if you're stupid enough to pass by deserted alleys. 

but you had underestimated the divine prowess of your fucked up fate.

everything happened in a matter of three seconds; one, the blinding headlights illuminate your path from behind; two, you hear the loud honk, and as you turn around — three, the vehicle sends you rolling against the asphalt.

you should have taken the alleyways.

for his second act;

he alters your reality.

when you open your eyes, you thought you were dead and your spirit is wandering elsewhere — because you don't believe in trivial things like heaven and god — until an agitated doyoung comes into view. for a split second, you thought, is he dead, too?

"i'm not dead, you idiot." too dazed, you hardly register his anger. "i can perfectly handle myself, she said. i'm not drunk, she said. this wouldn't have happened if you had simply let me walk you home! you're damn fucking lucky you're alive and breathing right now!"

a person clears their throat.

"i don't think it wise to… nag at the patient the moment she wakes. don't you agree, sir?"

pink splotches on doyoung's cheek as he looks down, embarrassed at getting scolded as he stands closer to your bed. "i'm sorry, doc."

you didn't know when your vision cleared or when you started hearing normally again, but it was enough to find out what exactly had transpired on the very night of your tragic accident. a hit and run. fifty-fifty chance of surviving. doyoung getting a call from the hospital in the middle of the night —"they were trying to contact your dad, but he wasn't answering. i was the last person in your call history." 

six months in a coma. but today, you wake… only to find out your world has crashed and burned.

"what do you mean i lost my scholarship?"

"baby, listen to me —"

"why did they take it away? is it because of my accident? i'm behind by one term only and i swear i can catch up. they need to let me back in the program. there must've been some mistake —"

"your gpa didn't reach the cut-off grade."

that can't be possible.

"but you tutored me!" you claim with conviction, pointing an accusatory finger at him until you groan, bowing in pain as you clutch your head.

doyoung springs into action. the chair's legs screech against the tiles as he jumps to your aid, ushering you gently back against the hospital bed despite your refusal. "you're not well. lay back down, please."

you don't hear a single word he says, not when you had lost something so crucial. "i put in the effort and learned everything you taught me... i aced those fucking mid-terms! i know i did!" you were on the brink of tearing up as doyoung settled himself in front of you.

"i… i actually saw your papers," his lips set in a thin, hard-line. "everything was all wrong, sweetheart. what happened to you? i tried reasoning with the professors, mentioned your state — you know, with your best friend dying — but they didn't relent. i'm sorry y/n. i'm so —"

gone. everything is gone. the money. the dorm. what if they ask you to pay the fees from last year? what if they ask you to pay the tuition fee for this year? you have no money, no family, no relatives. no one to help. who's even going to pay for the hospital fees?

you weren't able to process anything after that. not with the sudden news of your now revoked scholarship. doyoung pulls you in a tight hug. "i was a bad tutor," he says, snapping you out of it. "maybe i shouldn't have pushed you that hard to learn them. why were your answers even mixed up y/n? i thought you knew those topics already…"

he pulls away, observing your confused state as your eyes dart everywhere in the room. "what — how are they mixed up? i know i got them right. there has to be some mistake. you taught me those topics, remember?"

"i did... "he averts his gaze. "but i don't remember teaching them to you mixed up, darling. i think you did that all on your own."

"but… why would i mix up my answers? that's —"

"see, what i mean?" he cuts you off, raising a hand to give your cheek the most delicate caress. "you're not well, baby. you need to be treated, especially with how much you hit your head during the accident. don't worry, i'm here. we'll try asking if you can stay in the dorms at least until you find another place —"

"am i a charity case to you?"

oh, the surprise on the junior's face when you push him away as you pin him with a hard stare. you just don't get it. why is kim doyoung so adamant about helping you? in becoming your hero, even when you never asked him to be? if you let him help you this time around, that'll be the 3rd time he came to save your ass. it's not as if you're ungrateful. simply, you've had enough of his help. you don't know how a person like you, who literally has nothing, can return the favor to someone like doyoung.

"what are you saying —"

"i'm saying…" you fix him a hard stare. "you helping me out doesn't even benefit you in the slightest. so why do you do it?"

he pauses, staring at you with hesitance in his eyes as this seems to be the very first time you've truly seen him speechless. when doyoung opens his mouth, he mumbles, and you hardly make sense of what he said. 

"do you really want to know why?" 

you urge him on with an arched eyebrow, his softened tone creeping into your heart. 

"you're someone special to me y/n. i don't know how or when i admitted it to myself, but you are, and it hurts me to see how shitty your luck is," he cracks a small grin, slowly settling back onto the hospital bed as he grabs your hand. "it's okay to seek help from others. it isn't a sign of vulnerability or weakness. i help you because i want to, and i'm more than willing to take care of you. will you let me?"

you're not blind. you've noticed the way he had slowly started coming closer as he continued to speak, hands held securely in his as he looked straight at your eyes then down at your lips. and so, you act in a way you know that will surely answer his question — with a kiss. 

the man before you immediately reciprocates, overpowering your own eagerness as he curls the tips of his fingers into the roots of your hair. he pulls you close, cradling you against his chest. you can taste his desperation in the way his tongue dances against yours, the kiss transporting you into an alternate reality where your world revolves around doyoung and doyoung alone. 

when he pulls away bleary-eyed, both of you ignore the thin strand of saliva connecting your lips. "how about you come live with me for the time being, my love?"

still high off his kiss and natural scent, you hardly mull over the question he asks you. "okay."

days later, after you've been discharged (he wanted to chip in for your hospital bills but you had given him a firm no), doyoung had been the one to show up at the dorm to collect all your things after leaving you in his apartment. the cutie had refused to simply drop you off and had deliberately accompanied you up the elevator, through the halls, and finally into his apartment. 

"i'll be out for just a minute, sugarcube."

"oh, can you get take out?"

doyoung had smiled, playfully booping the tip of your nose. "no, because i'll be cooking for us tonight as a little celebration for you getting discharged. you'll love it; i'm making your favorite!"

it was funny how the night had been nothing but utter bliss. the foreign feeling of being taken care of sprouting in your chest as you watch him cooking from behind the counter. it felt… nice. but funny enough, as if doing a 360, you both had immediately gotten into an argument the next day. 

"i don't see the need for skipping another day if i feel perfectly fine! i'll figure something out once we get there, doyoung, so can we just —"

"you' re not fine, babylove — hell, you got discharged yesterday! i'm not just about to let you back into the arena with those students. they've only grown more immature since your coma, love. i seriously don't want you near them."

"fine! then i won't talk to them. simple." you throw your hands up. "there. problem solved. now, can we please just go to uni? i need to talk to the dean and the head of student affairs, too —"

"i'm going to uni, not you."

maybe it had been the way he firmly stated his claim, the way his eyes pierced through your soul as if daring you to argue further with him that made you snap.

"i'm not a prisoner in this apartment, doyoung! don't treat me like i have the plague! i'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself — jesus christ, i've been doing it nearly half my fucking life!"

too caught up in your anger, you've failed to notice the tears pouring down his face as he sets his gaze on the floor. 

"you're right," his voice cracks. "i shouldn't be pushy like that. i'm sorry. you just mean so much to me and i'm so scared of losing you again. with your coma — i just — it's like i was fighting a losing battle each day that passed when i saw you in that hospital bed. i've never felt so scared in my whole life and i hated myself for not being able to protect you that night."

his tears run like waterfalls, and when you step forward with your arms wide open, doyoung sobs harder as he pulls you against him. you hardly comprehend what he says as he spoke, shaking against your frail body as you felt his tears stain your blouse. "i'm sorry, i never should've dictated what you felt — i'm so sorry."

"no, it's okay. i was feeling a little lightheaded, anyway. i'll stay here and i can come back to school next semester, right? doyoung? just… please stop crying."

he lifts his head, staring at you with bloodshot eyes before giving your forehead a kiss. you let a relieved sigh escape your lips, melting into his warmth as you prop your chin on his shoulder. if you had only been more attentive, you would've seen the reflection of his wicked grin on the tabletops. too easy.

living with him became a blur after that incident. everything fell into a routine for the next four days as you spent the day watching netflix, eating, reading, sleeping. nothing felt fun anymore. but your peaceful life had ceased during the fifth night — the whispers, they woke you up. you can hear them from behind your door at night, and when you rouse awake, you see doyoung walking around the hallway from the tiny gap at the bottom of the door. you had sighed, falling back into your plush bed as you pray to god, he keeps it down. 

but what he told you the next day rendered you speechless. "me, walking around the hallways? whispers?" he says, confused. "i was already asleep, love. knocked out cold the moment my body fell on the bed."

"but…"

he doesn't spare you a glance as he takes his sweet time skimming through his notes on the dining table, coffee in one hand. "maybe it's just the meds kicking in."

"no, surely it was real! i literally woke up in the middle of the night," you repeat. "it's okay if it was you, doyoung. i'm not mad."

he sets his coffee mug down a little too loud. 

"well, you can't be mad at me, sugar, because like i said — it wasn't me," it doesn't take a genius to notice he's awfully cranky today. you observe him, dark half-moons under his eyes as he relentlessly reads his notes with instant coffee in one hand. 

"you're just imagining things, okay? stop acting crazy."

for some reason, the way he had uttered certain words like 'imagining' and 'crazy' made you curl into your seat in embarrassment. he was right that your doctor did prescribe a generous amount of pills per day, but his tone made it feel off, made you feel like there was something wrong with you even when there wasn't… 

right?

you didn't say a word after that and had hesitantly pecked him on the cheek before he left for school. with the amount of time you're with him, two things stood out to you — his keen sense of observation and his knack for reading people. you highly doubt he didn't notice a shift in your behavior but a part of you thinks it's just the stress talking. he is about to take his finals and had recently started on his research paper. 

every psych student is required to present a paper in accordance with the department's annual theme. it could be anything from proposing a theory (if you dare) to constructing a well-developed psychology model. if you don't turn one in, you don't graduate — the paper's that important, and you've been bugging him for so long about sneaking a peek on what his study is about. but he always refused. 

the next week came rolling around, and both of you had been spending every day together due to the semestral break. the arguments have significantly lessened, but your episodes — eventually, you started calling it that way because that's how doyoung labels it — have only gotten worse. you end up moving out of the guest room and into his. privacy be damned. the whispers stopped momentarily but what came next became your imminent downfall.

the first time you heard it, you thought you were dreaming. but the doorknob kept rattling aggressively even as you sat up. just as you climb off the bed, your half-asleep boyfriend asks where you're going. 

"bathroom," you lied.

you were always the one to snort when it comes to the supernatural, claiming it's all bullshit. yet, as whatever outside continues to fight its way inside the room, the rattling progressing into loud bangs against the door, you're not so sure of your beliefs anymore. you're not crazy. nothing is wrong with you, and you're perfectly fine. this apartment is cursed, and you are going to prove that to doyoung.

grabbing your phone from the bedside table, you turn the flash on, pointing the camera at the door as you take a footage of the mad entity that has been playing games with you. a squeal escapes your lips when a particular bang! reverberates louder in the room than all the others. the phone slips your hand, falling onto the floorboards. you don't bother to retrieve it as you scramble to get yourself back under the blanket and into doyoung's comfortable warmth.

you snuggle yourself plush against his chest, shaking as you wrap your arms around his waist, inhaling his natural scent to anchor you back. 

bang! bang! bang!

you didn't get a wink of sleep last night.

"can't the video wait? there's a new episode of start-up, and i want to watch it already!" he whines, shoving his face further on the throw pillow situated on your lap.

you giggle, shaking your head as you scroll through your gallery to find the video. i'm not imagining things. i'm not hallucinating. i'm not crazy. "here! watch... i'm telling you this apartment is haunted, and the ghost probably likes you, which is why it doesn't bother you —"

your lighthearted rambling cuts off when you notice no sound emitting from your phone. weird. you could've sworn you started recording right when the loud banging has already started. your heart drops upon the wary stare doyoung shoots you before he continues to watch the video. 

no, no, no, no — please!

you quickly scoot over to his side, watching as the video unfolds before your very eyes. the shot was messy as the phone was handheld, not to mention you were panicking at the time. but the video is silent. not a single noise of a rattling doorknob or banging on the door can be heard through your phone's speakers. 

"maybe — maybe you didn't turn the volume up?"

you hardly contain the mortification in your face when you realize the volume's at 100 already. and as if on cue, your squeal is heard in the video and the noise of the phone hitting the floor.

doyoung's silence shakes your whole being. as you kneel before him teary-eyed, your voice breaks. "i swear, i'm not crazy."

but at this point, you don't believe yourself anymore.

for his third and final act;

he triumphs.

his deprivation began in minuscule ripples. 

it didn't take much effort on doyoung's end to convince you to stop studying for a year or two, at least, only until your hallucinations aren't as severe anymore. everyday felt like hell on earth as the fine line between what's real and what isn't has blurred over one too many times. in sheer paranoia of accidentally hurting him in his sleep, you moved out of his bedroom and had started sleeping in the guest room again — much to doyoung's frustration. 

but he's a smart man, one that recognizes an opportunity amidst the hurdles thrown on his path.

"why does my door need a lock outside again?"

he approaches you, who’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, after screwing in the last of the screws that came with the new doorknob. doyoung is familiar with the look written on your face, has observed and studied you enough to navigate his way inside your pretty little head with ease.

he can't have you doubting him, can he?

"you know i'm all about protecting you, right?" he starts. you nodded. "i've been doing it for a year now, and i will continue to do so until you need me to. the world is a bad place, sweetheart, remember? your own best friend's mother tried framing you. your dad disowned you. you've been ostracized in the whole college... do you think i'm just like the rest of them, baby?"

doyoung has already mastered the perfect expression of a kicked-puppy, one that easily pulls at your heartstrings and has you cooing at him.

"no!" you say with conviction, reaching forward to thread your fingers through his. "i know you're different, not like any of them at all. i know you're only doing what's… best for me."

he ignores the underlying hesitance in your tone. that will be corrected, sooner or later.

doyoung tightens his hold as he kisses the back of your hand. such an innocent gesture — but such ill intentions.

"the outside lock helps me in protecting you, love. you don't need to worry about anything. just focus on getting better, alright? i'll keep the bad guys away from you."

it was during his first semester of senior year, a few months back, doyoung and a good few students of his batch had been granted the opportunity to intern for a mental hospital located near the edge of the city. he was supposed to decline the offer but you convinced him to take the spot. it had only been a two-week “job” yet it was enough for doyoung to conclude — he’d rather kill you than subject you to the horrors of what the patients have to go through in the loony bin. 

eventually, the small ripples shift into unforgiving waves, dragging you into the depths as everything comes crashing down before your very own eyes.

it should have been like any other day inside the apartment. doyoung's already gone in the morning to attend classes. though not before setting a tray of your brunch on the nightstand, making sure to lock your door on his way out. he knew your nightmares and anxiety kept you up at night, resulting in longer hours of sleep during the day. 

turns out, you moving out of his bedroom had been a blessing in disguise. coming home to an empty apartment has become his biggest fear yet, and you unconsciously found a solution for him. one that doesn’t have him fidgeting on his seat as he counts down the minutes ‘til he’s back by your side.

doyoung smiles unconsciously as he listens to his professor drone on and on in front of him — his mind at peace, knowing you're safe and sound in your little prison.

until he received a text that made his blood run cold.

ty, 11:34 am —im done.

meanwhile, you rouse awake once more to thunderous poundings against your bedroom door. oh no, you thought. it's happening again. this time, there'll be no doyoung barging into your room, half-asleep and hair messy, as he tries to calm you down. you throw the blankets over you as you sob, hugging your legs against your chest as you try to 'wake yourself up' from the hallucination.

the person outside calls for your name, the desperation in their tone alighting a new-found fear in your heart. you don't know what's real anymore. is this truly happening, or is it another hallucination your fucked up mind has conjured up?

"please! it's taeyong! y/n, can you hear me?"

taeyong?

slowly, your head peaks above the blanket, warily staring at the door. doyoung has warned you about these kinds of things, has practically ingrained in your mind that whoever comes looking for you will take you away from him. not to mention, doyoung slipped one time and said he isn’t friends with taeyong anymore.

the banging on the door progresses.

“are you in there? answer me! i can’t find the key!”

you don’t say anything, merely pushing the covers off your body as you keep your eyes fixed on the beating door. it looks like it’s about to pop out its hinges as taeyong relentlessly fights his way inside your room. what are you going to do? do you open the door? oh. right. you can’t do that on your own accord. the key is with doyoung and he isn’t in the apartment at the moment.

all your thoughts come to a halt when the boy outside sends the door flying open, finally breaking the lock with one powerful kick. you flinch back, his actions pushing you on your feet, wanting to place a maximum amount of distance from the intruder. 

taeyong looks frantic, disheveled as he immediately notices your alarmed state. he approaches you cautiously, hands up to show his empty palms. “hey, hey… it’s just me, y/n. i’m not going to hurt you. i’m not the enemy here.”

“doyoung doesn’t know you’re here, does he?”

the look of surprise on his face is an answer in itself. for someone doyoung had proudly claimed to have “broken” you’re still quite quick to catch up on things, taeyong observed. and he doesn’t know what to feel about it — pity? guilt?

“that’s not important!” he claims, boldly surging forward to grasp your shoulders with a firm grip. taeyong felt his heart dropping when you flinch under his grasp. 

“listen to me. we need to get you out of here. doyoung isn’t — he isn’t everything you thought he is!” he can’t help but raise his voice, panic surging through him because there’s not much time left and you aren’t exactly cooperating. you’ve been trying to shrug off his hold the whole time. 

“do you think he actually loves you?”

“he does! stop saying bullshit!”

“doyoung never loved anyone and you want to know why? because he’s too in love with his research to care for anything else!” taeyong felt bad to have been so direct, especially when he sees the tears now falling freely down your cheeks. “listen to me, y/n! i’m not the enemy! if there’s anyone you should be pushing away, it’s doyoung! he turned you into his lab rat! you are nothing but a variable in his study! don’t you get it?”

taeyong grabs a firm but gentle hold of your head, trying to make you look at him straight in the eye for the gravity of what he’s about to say to you.

“doyoung had his eye on you since sophomore year. i told him this was a bad idea and that he should change the topic of the research and he was. fucking hell, he was about to scrap the whole thing until your bestfriend died and did you know what that psycho told me? that it was a sign for him to continue the research! and i’ve been pestering him so much that he moved out because he claimed i was going to get in the way of his discovery.

tell you what, if you can tell me right here, right now, that he has mentioned anything — anything at all — about his study to you then everything i’m saying is a lie.”

you have asked doyoung for the longest time about that research but the answers have always been the same. “not yet, my love. it’s not time for it to be seen with your eyes. soon, okay?”

with a voice not louder than a whisper, you ask. “what… what’s his research about?”

you fail to see the sorry look on taeyong’s face. “in psychology, they say a person only develops psychosis mainly through genetics or drugs. although you’re technically already a worthy “lab rat” considering your mom and upbringing, he wanted to expand the external factors of what causes the disorder — grief, grades, toxic family relations…”

you hear a ringing in your ear and a sudden urge to throw up. only, you didn’t have anything to hurl because your brunch remains untouched on your bedside. 

“but he hadn’t been successful. and that’s… that’s where i came along. doyoung thought the medications he’s been giving you isn’t doing what he wanted it to and he knew he needed a little push. i was… i gave him that push. remember the whispers, the banging on the door at night? it was all me. he made me do it. you know what that means, right? you’re not crazy. you don’t need to stay here cooped up like some kind of pet, believing all his lies as if it’s written in a fucking bible —”

he stops. and if he hadn’t, you wouldn’t’ve heard the familiar beeps of the front door’s automated lock going off. doyoung’s home. 

in lightning speed, taeyong has you sheltered behind him, throwing his warm coat over you in the process, hoping to give the smallest comfort amidst the chaos that’s about to erupt. there’s no point in pretending or hiding — one look at that lock and his crazy friend would know something’s off. 

taeyong feels you flinching behind him with every heavy footstep against the floorboards as doyoung wastes no time in getting to your room. and when he finally appears, hands braced against the door frame, you’ve never been this scared your whole life. his eyes are drawn into slits, fixated on taeyong alone. “how fucking dare you?”

“it’s over, doyoung. give it up or you wouldn’t have to suffer a longer sentence than you’ll already get.” taeyong tried with his whole being to appear intimidating.

“what’re you saying, yong? i meant, how fucking dare you barge in here and disturb my girlfriend in her sleep? that’s not very nice of you…” doyoung sports a disarming gummy smile as he approaches, hand outstretched and beckoning towards you. “c’mere, baby. i don’t think you’ve eaten lunch yet?”

“drop the fucking act, you psycho!”

“what act?” doyoung tilts his head innocently, gaze shifting from taeyong’s and yours, who keeps peeking from over his ex-friend’s shoulder. luring you out is a piece of cake unless taeyong decides to make things a wee bit more complicated, doyoung thought. “i’m just concerned for my darl —”

“we’re leaving.” taeyong cuts him off, breaking eye contact as he places a firm grip around your wrist. he pulls you towards him, farther away from your supposed lover as he tries walking past doyoung. 

but the said man pushes taeyong back with a humorless smile on his face. “and who told you that you can do that?”

a pregnant silence befalls the room as the two men size each other up. they regard each other with such hostility, you can't help but unconsciously fist the back of taeyong's sweater in nervousness, prompting the man to turn his head over his shoulder for a swift second to check up on you.

but a second is all that doyoung needed to deliver the first kick towards taeyong's legs, throwing him off his balance. if it was one thing doyoung knew, is that he needed to eliminate taeyong's agility all together if he wants to win against him. 

but taeyong isn't one to back down. the moment doyoung straddles him on the floor, with a fist raised to throw a punch, taeyong grunts as he rolls them around. doyoung now receiving taeyong's rain of fists as he yells. "fuck you! you manipulative asshole!"

you sat on the corner, horrified of the scene happening before you. you've never seen doyoung this way. he has always been your sweet, caring bunny, but after everything taeyong said, you aren't so sure you even know the man you've been living with. 

"everything i did, i did it for her!" you flinch at the sound of bones breaking as doyoung kicked taeyong's ribs. "she had nothing to lose! i saved her!"

the door is open, you noticed. wide-open and inviting you to make a run for it. and you would have made a run for it...  but taeyong. you can't leave him behind, not when he lays there bloody and grunting in pain as doyoung lets his anger take over him. so, as stupid as may be, you did it. you had to.

"you didn't save me," you say, schooling your face into indifference as doyoung whips around, forgetting about taeyong in the bat of an eye. "you caged me in here, treated me like there's something wrong with me, gaslighted me into believing everything you said! and... what did you say? 'saved me'? you made me go through hell!"

the whole time, taeyong tries his hardest to stand upright, but his broken ribs don't allow him to. the pain too great that he had no choice but to crawl instead, arms pulling his weight as he drags himself across the floorboards, desperately trying to get doyoung's attention back on him even if it meant getting beaten to death.

meanwhile, he had his eyes trained on you the whole time you spoke, sobbing as you walk backward in fear as doyoung approached you with a dark glint in his eye. he doesn't like what you're saying; that much is very clear. he wanted to yell at you, to scream of your ungratefulness despite his constant care but instead, he says.

"i thought we were making progress, baby. i guess i have to drill everything in your brain again. you're not okay, but you will be after i treat you."

you try to fight the urge to look at taeyong as he finds his strength, silently rising up from the floor to ambush doyoung while he's so busy preaching about you. 

"what i said is true, baby. do you actually think this scum over here is doing this to save you? do you actually believe everything he said? i've been here since day-1, my love. literally. and have i ever let you down? no. everything i'm doing is for us. even this damned research!"

taeyong surges forward to put him in a chokehold, but everything happened so fast, and the next thing you knew —

"did you actually think i'd fall for that?"

you didn't know the sound of a knife cutting through flesh could sound that loud, but nothing could beat the strained gasp that tumbled through taeyong's lips as he shakily held the knife pierced through his heart. you would've been concerned about how doyoung got it so accurate in one go or where the knife even came from. but you were too busy screaming, collapsing against the wall as you let out a broken sob. 

"no," you mutter. "no, no, no..."

you can't bear to avert your eyes from taeyong as he lies dying before you. the look of fear in his eyes would forever be ingrained in your mind, and no amount of brainwashing or gaslighting would ever make you forget.

doyoung killed him. you lost.

the knife clatters loudly on the floor as he slowly turns around as if he himself has yet to register what he did. you didn't know what to expect from doyoung's reaction but certainly not the eerie smile that starts spreading on his face. 

"now... how about that lunch, baby?"

✉ : a repost no one asked but i respectfully dont give a fuck <3