#so i SERIOUSLY doubt they'll do it for stranger things

[jonathanbyersphd]

Now do I think a weekly release of ST would be smarter? Yes. Do I think Netflix will do it that way? No honestly.

[halfetirosie]

☁︎✴☁︎ KUYA IS THE WORST THERAPIST OF ALL TIME!!!!! ☁︎✴☁︎

(Elysium 10-11 React-os!)

Fair warning, I'mma be a bit of a hater in this one...🤦‍♀️

1) KUYA, WHAT THE HELL?!?!?!?!?!

First of all: kidnapping is fucking ILLEGAL!

Second: this is just too far. It's already bad enough that Olivine will have to answer embarrassing questions in front of an audience, but having to do so in front of the kids--????

I was rooting for you, Kuya! But then you go and be a dick again!!!!

😡

2) Damn, what an awful way to die....

I HATE bugs, they're so gross---

Plus, this situation is already ASTRONOMICALLY STRESSFUL; having a big, ugly, threatening bug crawling all over you will make it even worse!!!

3) My thoughts exactly, Eiden!!!!

Why is Eiden the only sane person here???

It seems like Kuya have set things up to be as agonizing as possible, and that just feels EVIL to me.

This is why I really hate that damn fox sometimes. He keeps causing genuine pain to people, hitting them right where it hurts, and it's [at least partially] only for his own entertainment.

4) (｡Ó ᗣ Ò｡)

Olivineeee, sweeetieeeee!!!! Come here and give me a hug!!!!

This is so depressingly relatable.... Amiright, fellow degenerates? 😅 Gotta laugh about it or else you'll cry...

Olivine is really GOING THRU IT. I can't imagine having to admit something like this to my family/friends!

I am so fucking stressed!!!!

5) FUCK!!!!! MAKE IT STOP!!!!

LISTEN. I GET THAT OLIVINE NEEDS TO FACE HIS FEELINGS PROPERLY INSTEAD OF AVOIDING THEM. Aside from the damn fox's entertainment, that is what "the point" of this trial is.

Accepting your feelings is necessary for healing.

But you know what doesn't have a point? FORCING OLIVINE TO ANSWER THIS QUESTION IN FRONT OF THE MOST FRAGILE AND INNOCENT PEOPLE IN HIS LIFE, WHOM HE REALLY CARES ABOUT!!!!!

I feel like I'm just repeating myself at this point, but seriously, this is so fucked up! If I were Eiden, I probably would've interrupted and tried to end this shitty trial, too...

6) Kuya, you are seriously such a dick....

I think Kuya is partially up to his Tsundere Bullshit™ again; I think he's pretending to be casually "observing" things when really, he's searching for some sort of answer. (After all, this is the same dude that has been alive for longer than we can imagine, and has struggled with suicidal thoughts in the past)

The reason he calls the trial participants "boring" is likely because they didn't give the answers Kuya wanted---I suspect that this trial has served as Kuya's fucked up way of searching for meaning in life.

But what really pisses me off is the demeaning way he talks about humans; even now, during a trial whose questions focus on one's true desires and personal values.

HE'S the one always prattling on about how humans shouldn't judge himself, a yokai, by human standards. And yet, he doesn't have the decency to do the same???

Humans live a much shorter time than him, after all. Of COURSE they'll put value in different things than him; especially if they're someone who frequently spends time in a red light district.

That might be why he assumes Olivine's morality is a "mask," but at the same time, he actually knows Olivine personally (at least, to some extent), unlike the strangers he's tested in this "trial."

I don't think I can give Kuya the benefit of the doubt anymore. This lack of empathy isn't "out of his control," IT'S A FUCKING CHOICE. AND THAT IS WHY I'M ANGRY!!!! 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Kuya shouldn't be allowed to conduct this "trial." This "trial" shouldn't even exist. What HE needs---what Olivine needs---what EVERYONE needs---IS SOME ACTUAL PROPER THERAPY!!!!

7) CONFIRMED: Eiden is me in this event

Is this hinting that this whole trial is an illusion, maybe?? As in, there isn't actually an audience here??

Honestly tho, at this point, that doesn't even matter to me. Kuya is still being a dick and putting Olivine through HELL, and it is so unnecessary!!! 😡😡😡

8) It just keeps getting worse and worse...

Watching this trial is giving me such intense second-hand fear/sadness, bro---I'm crying very real tears. It's literally hurting me.

This really didn't need to be done in front of an audience, dude... Shit like this is SUPER private. It shouldn't be made into a spectacle like this...

BITCH, KUYA MADE OLIVINE CRY!!!!!!!

(｡Ó ᗣ Ò｡)

WHY!!!!

THE FUCK!!!!!

DID HE HAVE TO DO THIS!!!!!

LIKE THIS?!?!?!?!

9) HELL YEAH, OLIVINE!!!! PREACH!!!

I can't believe we went through all of this just so Olivine could give the most obvious answer of all time---

⊹ ࣪ ˖♡ LOVE ♡⊹ ࣪ ˖

That's also the answer that our foxy bitch friend was really searching for...

10) OH FUCK, THANK GOD!!!!

I AM SO FUCKING RELIEVED, THE KIDS WERE JUST ILLUSIONS!!!!

I don't forgive Kuya for pulling that stunt, tho. I stand by my opinion that it was COMPLETELY UNNECESSARY.

11) TRUTH:

It's honestly kind of wild to see Olivine explaining the value of love to a mean old foxy grandpa, but hey, here we are!

It's Olivine's turn to be the therapist! The right way!

:D

12) You're a much more patient person than me, Olivine...

(ᵕ—ᴗ—)

I held on for as long as I could, but I can no longer be generous when his antics cross a certain line... I'm giving this fox the silent treatment for the next three weeks!!

13) *heavy sigh*

Yeah, that's true...

Olivine and Kuya actually have a fair bit in common, when you think about it; specifically, their history with Depressive Episodes and--as Olivine puts it here-- their "struggle to live."

I think the main difference is, because of Kuya's long-ass life, he's much more set in his ways; thus, it's harder for him to let go of his destructive tendencies.

He may not be as violent as he used to be, but he still has a terrible habit of emotionally harming others...

Do I think this excuses his behavior? No.

Do I think he deserves another chance; to be treated with compassion and helped? Yes.

But he ALSO deserves to see some actual consequences for his actions.

☁︎ End of report ☁︎

[kuramirocket]

Hey I’ve seen your post from a couple while where you called out a couple antis for harassment (and who were drawing proshippers getting killed)

these people banded together to create an anti proship confession blog. The owner of it revealed that they’re 14, the majority of their “friends” are in that age range or slightly older (with the exception of rainbow star heart)

what’s super concerning is that they talk a lot about kink, sex, rape and nsfw of real children and fictional characters who are underage. They’re still stalking other proship blogs, especially if someone sent them asks about the situation

I’m also concerned about your-dead-girl-forever because they’re a minor who is relying on a complete stranger to be their online “parent”. Their friends said something like “‘it’s’it’s just pixels bro!’ yeah and these pixels are forming something that looks like a child with their tits out” which is really weird to say??

I’ve tried reporting all posts which talk about the aforementioned topics but tumblr really doesn’t care, meanwhile they’re going around calling a person with WWII OC’s a Nazi despite them explaining they aren’t one

Yeah, I have seen that anti proship confession blog and everything going on between rainbowstarheart and your-dead-girl-forever.

It's definitely concerning because your-dead-girl-forever seems to be mentally unwell and should not be engaging in 'discourse' at all. Especially not with people they think are "pedophiles." Seriously, idk why some antis, especially minor antis, think it's okay or even safe to go yell at people they think are dangerous. For all they know the person they are harrassing or talking to are legitimate offending pedophiles or just people who will not hesitate to doxx/harm them.

If they really hate proshippers that much then they should just block and move on to not see proshippers or the content they post anymore. And to keep doing that no matter how many times they have to or how annoying it is to constantly have to do so. There's no point in responding to any and all hate they receive.

Which btw, any proshipper who is engaging in harrassment should not call themselves a proshipper and should not even be in the community. Proshipping is ship and let ship, but also anti harrassment.

And also like you said, minors should not be taking about sex or anything underage, fictional or not, with complete strangers, especially not with adults. I mean, with their same age friend group, okay, I get minors are curious, but still if it's with someone you only know online, you need to be safe and careful. Especially, cause you know some people may be lying about who they are and their age.

Which is why, as I've always said, education about internet safety and real red flags is so important, not the angry fear mongering that antis do calling everyone pedophiles for transgressive and sexual fictional works involving 'minor' characters or not.

This is why I made this post with the resources and links where I got the information at the bottom of said post.

And honestly, I wouldn't trust someone who claims and acts like a 'parent' to minors. For one, I seriously doubt rainbowstarheart is even a professional mental health expert with years of education and experience. It's one thing to try to help and give advise to someone, but rainbowstarheart is probably not even qualified to help a mentally unwell minor who seems to also self harm. Your-dead-girl-forever needs actual professional help if they want to get better and what they're doing of screaming at proshippers and others online will not help them in the least. They're just surrounding themselves with more toxicity.

Anyways, at this point. Idk what can be done. Reporting these accounts is good, but the fact is they'll probably just make more accounts anyway. Plus, even if a person tries to genuinely reach out, their group will just scream and laugh at the attempt anyway. They'll likely just ignore anyone that's not an anti or part of their group. Human beings are social creatures that just react like this and who want to be with people with the same mindset, sometimes without even realizing it.

The best thing that can be done, I think, is 1) DO NOT harrass them and 2) maybe just send links and information to studies and research by professionals that will help them be safe online and recognize actual red flags and warning signs. At least this way they will be informed and hopefully be safe.

Though, you should keep in mind they may disregard this information, regardless. I know I've seen antis sneer at professional information and tips regarding online safety shared by proshippers because it's "proship propaganda."

Unfortunately, you can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped or is unwilling to recognize that they are unwell. They have to make the descion for themselves.

Also, please don't beat yourselves up over this situation. If you didn't partake in these people's harrassment, then you have nothing to feel guilty over. Just remember, we have so much resources, links, research and studies by mental health and sex experts that prove engaging in fiction involving taboo topics and all sorts of fcked up sht in fiction is not a crime or will somehow turn you into an evil monster. That's not how any of it works.

Also, go through my proship resources and information tag to see a list of these studies that prove what I am saying and what proshippers have always stated from the start.

Coping through fiction (drawing, writing, etc.) IS helpful to victims. It may not be for everyone and may actually be triggering to some people, but again, this is why professionals will work with their patients to find what works best for them in order to heal. If a coping mechanism is shown to actually be doing more harm than good to an individual then yes, any good mental health professional will look for something better. Again, coping via fiction can be very helpful while for others it may not be good for them. It all depends on the individual.

As for posting this type of content online. A person has every right to do so if they want to. The important thing is to tag appropriately and put clear warnings for said content so people may avoid any triggering and uncomfortable topics.

You should create whatever fictional content you want.

Don't let antis convince or intimidate you otherwise.

[megamuscle885-blog]

My apologies to the Wormies following me, but I'm re-listening to the Wheel of Time audio book(s) and I just got to the Seanchan and I'm going to explode if I don't talk about how much I fucking hate them. Spoilers for Wheel of Time (but honestly it's 15 books I'm not going to force you to read all of them first.)

CW: Fascists. Sexual abuse/violence.

They're fascists. Unambiguously. They enslave just about everyone and everything they meet. They expect complete strangers to know their intricate ways under pain of death. Anyone they can't kill for convenience they torture in their every waking moment. They conquer people, then let them walk around armed because of their brutal arrogance that lets them murder anyone not cowed into submission.

Damane are enslaved, treated like animals, have their hands and tongues cut off if there is a risk to their owner's secrets, and despite the apparent Seanchan cultural shame of having sex with one, treated akin to bestiality, I seriously doubt that there aren't members of the Blood that have raped Damane. When women are under institutional power to the degree that the Seanchan have placed women who can channel under, women who are already treated like animals, or as it's said in the text; "Like a piece of furniture or a tool", women are victimized. Some of these women have been enslaved for hundreds of years, some have been captured as teenagers, and the ones holding their literal chains are also women who can channel that simply didn't have the initial spark that doomed the other women in the first place. By all technicality, each and every Suldam, including the Seanchan Heir apparent are Marath'damane themselves. The only fucking reason that Tuon doesn't get collared herself is because the text needs her to commit her forces to the Last Battle. It would only take a little thinking and her entire court could supplant her.

I hate every single facet of their existence. Their empire is under constant rebellion, but not a single fucking one of the Seanchan characters thinks it's at all odd that people are constantly rising up in defiance of a totalitarian state as merciless and cruel as theirs. It's treated as a bad thing that darkfriends cause the collapse of the mainland Seanchan Empire, the death of the Empress, and the complete anarchy that follows.

My sole consolation is the knowledge that every empire falls, that my headcanon for the aftermath of Wheel of Time means that the Seanchan collapse entirely. Their mainland is embroiled in a total civil war, armed with rampaging, angry magical nukes, scouring everything of life. Their new empire is headed by a woman who can channel, and every enslaved and conquered person in their invader empire can theoretically flee into the free lands of the east, including any women who can channel. If anyone figures out that the A'dam would work on Tuon, she's fucked and so is Matt and the Seanchan settler empire. There is no way that the Seanchan can keep hunting Marath'damane with the entire rest of the world has organizations of channelers that they can flee to, and the Dragon's Peace to keep the nations from killing each-other.

The worst part about listening to the Seanchan chapters is having to pause every ten minutes or so and get angry about something new being so cartoonishly evil, while the Seanchan shrug off criticism as if it's somehow natural to murder and enslave everything you can see and people who don't just don't understand their ways, which are better than everyone else.

And we're supposed to accept that Tuon is somehow gentler with her Damane. As if that's a fucking high bar to clear. Hypocritical bitch. Fuck you.

Maybe they'll tone it down for the TV show, but I already have so many problems with the show that I probably won't watch it. Amazon will not do the books justice, and they've abbreviated and changed so much it's barely the same tone or characters. That can be another rant for another day.

[lloydfrontera]

Hi. I quite like the changes to the original Lloyd Frontera, which are a bit different from the novel. And I felt like there were two panels that I thought would be a good opportunity to ask other people what they think. So, what do you think about these two panels?

(I hope they don't ruin the good things we got this week in the next episode)

Oh and yes, what do you think webcomic! Javier will be like in the next episode? He now knew that Kim Suho was the fake Lloyd Frontera (I really don't like this change,) and from the look he had after knowing that the other voice talking to Kim Suho was the real Lloyd Frontera's, I have a really bad feeling about this. Is there a possibility that they will make Javier a meanie?

honestly. best two panels of the entire episode i'm not gonna lie. i am always down for getting more lloyd&arcos&marbella hugs and i know we already saw this one but it's from another angle so i'm counting it.

and it's a perfect adaptation of that very heartbreaking moment in og lloyd's internal monologue. not much i can say i think it was a great moment!

it is sad and heartbreaking and completely justified. arcos and marbella aren't happy here because they think their son has been replaced by a stranger, they're happy because they think their son has turned a new leaf and stopped destroying himself and others.

the webcomic apparently didn't do a great job at making this clear, but the issue with og lloyd wasn't a simple matter of him being annoying, or lazy or even him being alcoholic. he was being genuinely harmful to the people around him, he was violent and abusive and he didn't want to change. he had plenty of chances to be, if not amazing, then at least decent. hell, him just doing nothing would've been a step up from where he was.

but no, he was angry at being born in the middle of nowhere and decided to take it out on everyone around him. nevermind that he was a noble, heir to a estate, with plenty of chances to make something of himself if he so wanted to.

that's something ep 115 did pretty well actually, made it very clear that it wasn't about skills or talent or opportunities. it was very much down to what they did with what they were given. and og lloyd didn't do anything with what he had.

god what a great moment i wish we could get this level of quality and seriousness every chapter

but yeah! i think the beginning of this episode was amazing and very well adapted. i have my doubts about the grim reapers cause,,, those aren't in the webnovel and i'm always a bit wary of just throwing stuff at the already shaky worldbuilding of tged but like. who cares at this point akjshdka

as for what they're planning with javier. i have no fucking idea. i don't know what's their plan with him. his whole deal after the reveal in hell completely depends on him not telling lloyd he knows and initially being conflicted about trusting lloyd after figuring out he's a fake but,,,, well, that doesn't apply to the webcomic anymore. so we're officially on uncharted waters. don't like that <3

it would be really silly of them to make javier suddenly have an issue about it when they already made him not give a shit a couple chapters ago. it would make no sense from a character standpoint and it'd be just,,, tedious to see him go back and forth on a topic he'd already reached a conclusion about. so i doubt they'll go that route but also. i have no high hopes about lee hyunmin's ability for good character writing lmaoooo

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

That's so weird because my reaction to S4 finale is it was the moment that convinced me Buddie was going to be endgame. Now two seasons later and we could be heading back to that same ending for the season depending on the events of the finale leaves me doubting things ngl. The only things I'm clinging on to are the couch theory, Eddie saying that relationships with people you meet at a rescue never works, and the fact that we're being introduced to these women so late in the season. It just seems like the writers even know they're giving this the most superficial things so that they can fix what they did in early S7.

To put it bluntly it just sucks that you know if this was gonna be the final 2 episodes that instead of going towards a story they've been telling since S2 they decide to put Buck and Eddie with women we don't even know their last name or anything about them. But they got renewed and will be moving to ABC so they can do the story they wanted to tell and I imagine these women will be kicked to the curb early in S7.

Okay, I'm gonna be real honest with you. I've seen that you've sent asks to a few of my friends, all generally saying the same thing. So to see you send me this ask makes me feel like you don't really want to have a discussion and aren't looking for actual support or positivity, you just want to keep being upset and tell people until someone agrees with you and tells you that your opinion that the writers made a shitty choice etc is valid.

So, to repeat a few things my friends have said:

They have not been doing Buddie since season two. I don't know why people persist on claiming this. Buddie was never the original plan. They did not decide to have Eddie get with Buck in season two. In fact in season two they seemed kinda unsure what to do with Eddie since he wouldn't be with Maddie any longer, but they still wanted the character, and Ryan, on the show. For my money, they started exploring the possibility of Buddie and discussing it seriously in season three, and season four was when they locked that in.

Now, I don't know about you, since you're a stranger on the internet, but to me, as a writer, it is a much, much better choice for them to have taken the risk rather than cram Buddie together, for a few reasons.

One: They cannot walk it back once Buddie is together. You're telling me you wanted them to sacrifice their story's integrity to give us a rushed unsatisfying get-together? Get out of my house. Watching television is, inherently, a gamble because it means you might get your stories unfulfilled. If you can't take that risk, then leave the casino. I am willing to risk it because I want a truly satisfying get-together, not something that was rushed and therefore isn't worthy of the delicious slow burn they're building.

Two: How many times do I have to scream at everyone to consider the behind the scenes issues before people start actually listening to me? Oh, forever? Because everyone is operating in bad faith and nobody wants to actually listen? Good to know. This will be the last I say on the matter.

We do not know what behind the scenes was going on in addition to the cancellation. What if certain Fox executives weren't supportive of Buddie? You're telling me that the writers and cast and crew should have, right when they'll need new jobs, guaranteed that their last employers will talk shit about them for disobeying orders and putting two characters together that they were told not to put together?

This is purely conjecture on my part, but I have seen time after time in fandom certain cast members and certain crew members and certain writers want a ship to become canon, and others not, and I have seen the way that back and forth played out, and guess fucking what? NOBODY WANTS TO LOSE THEIR FUCKING JOB. NOBODY WANTS TO BE PREVENTED FROM HAVING ANOTHER JOB.

Now, again, that's pure conjecture, but Fox really hasn't treated OG well for a while in terms of renewal, marketing, etc. And I have never, EVER, seen a show snapped up by another network so quickly. It's always "we got cancelled!" and then a few days or weeks later it's "we were saved by another network!" ABC was ON it. This gives me hope for a lot of things, like perhaps a 22 episode season. But given Fox's lack of promotion and appreciation for OG, it wouldn't surprise me if the cast and crew wanted Buddie and some people in the network didn't, and that is why we've been delayed on Buddie going canon. And while YOU may cry viva la revolution, it's much easier to have your principles when you've got a belly full, and while it may suck creatively there is no reason to piss off your bosses right when you need them to write you a recommendation for a new job because your show got cancelled - and while I'm sure they were hopeful, given the cast's social media I do not think anyone knew until it was publicly announced that they had, indeed, been saved and gotten another season.

My point is, this is just one theory I'm pulling out of a hat like a rabbit. We do not know what other BTS stuff is going on that made them choose to delay Buddie until season seven.

Three: To go back to point one, I do not think you've seen the reactions when a ship goes canon poorly. I was there, Gandalf. I was there the day that Booth and Bones got together. I was in the trenches. It soured SO many people, including me, on the show. To quote MBMBAM: YOU DIDN'T STICK THE LANDING! YOU JUST FLIPPED IN THE AIR FOR TWENTY MINUTES!!!

Sticking the landing when getting a ship together is possibly the most important moment in the couple's story. You cannot fuck up that landing. The writers chose to take the chance on it never happening in order to stick the landing the way they wanted. If that pisses you off, FINE. But stop coming into our inboxes to say the same thing over and over again about it, because we do not agree and we are never going to agree. We are at an impasse.

Now, to move onto some other points, WHY IS EVERYONE CONVINCED THAT EDDIE WILL STILL BE WITH SOMEONE WHEN THE SEASON ENDS!? WHEN DID WE DECIDE THIS!? He could be! But holy shit he could just go on one date with her that fizzles out! We have no clue! If someone in this fandom can see into the future and knows for sure this is going to happen then give me the winning lotto numbers right this second!!! Give them to me!!!! I need to fund my world domination campaign!!!

And finally, I feel like you've answered your own concerns, here. Given that you have sent similar asks to my friends, I don't think you're actually interested in allaying those concerns, because you keep answering your own questions and repeating yourself ad naseum. I could be wrong. Again, I don't know you. But this sure seems to be the case given that you're saying to me similar stuff you've said to my friends in asks they've already answered.

But to look at your own ask, you just said why we shouldn't be worried. "It seems like the writers even know..." YES. YES, THEY DO KNOW. I would love to know who the hell decided that television shows are made by the Television Fairy who creeps into the studio at night and waves her magic wand to create all the good stuff we see on our screens while the writers sit around with their thumbs up their asses.

Let's imagine you are a showrunner and you are going into the second half of your season, and you learn that it is extremely likely this season is actually your last. You guys start negotiating quietly with other networks to move the show, while hoping against hope this is not, indeed, the end. But this means you now have, what, nine episodes? To put all your characters in a place that is, if not ideal, at least somewhat positive for your audience?

You can't start any too-major arcs. You can't end on too bad of an emotional cliffhanger. This means some things will wrap up faster. Other things will get pushed forward. And some things have to be delayed, because they might never happen, and you can't give people a third or a half of an arc. Which means that you're going to be throwing in some filler for those characters instead, and doing things differently than how you might have wanted.

I do not know how many times I have to explain this, but television is not fanfiction. When I sit down to write a fic, there's not a damn person in the world who can tell me what to do. I write the story that I want, and if someone doesn't like it, they can hit the bricks.

Television is not like that. Television is one of the biggest group projects there is. Picture the worst group project you had to do in school and then times it by ten. Welcome to the television and film industry. The fact that any film or show, even the truly awful ones, gets made is nothing short of a miracle given all the people involved and all the ways the ball can be dropped. As a show runner, you are answering to multiple executives, to the creators, to the executive producers, to your own writers' room, and to the fans. You are trying to balance what everyone tells you to do, what the fans want you to do, and what you and your (hopefully trusted) writing team want and plan to do. I could never be a show runner and while there are quite a few with whom I've got bones to pick, I cannot deny that they all do a job I would never, ever be capable of pulling off. I'd quit on day three.

So, yeah, they gave Buck a temporary girlfriend as filler, to kinda cap off his current arc if this was the end, or to provide more layers to his full arc if they got another season. If you don't like that, then that's okay. Nobody is telling you to like it. When you come into someone's inbox like this, the assumption is that you're looking to be reassured, and so that's why you're getting the responses that you are. The previous people who've answered you have been trying to reassure you and allay the concerns you seem to have.

But it seems to me like you want a more full conversation, and possibly, that you just want to rant and vent. That's fine, but find a friend for that. Join a discord server. Because when you send the same stuff over and over again to different people, all of whom give you basically the same reply, it just makes you look like a very obstinate stick in the mud who wants everyone else to join them in being upset, and people don't much like having the same conversation multiple times, or being pushed into being upset when they're not.

You might just have to agree to disagree, and move on. Find other ways to get this out of your system, because my inbox, and the inboxes of others, is not the place for your venting in circles.

Now, in spite of my firm tone, I hope you will believe me when I say that I hope you're taking care of yourself, and that you are staying safe in this scary world, and that you have a good rest of your day.

[ailelie]

Why is /j the tone indicator for joking when we've been using /jk for, like, two decades to the point that it has entered dialogue?

Seriously, I have heard people say something, get a sour look, and then respond, "Jay-kay!"

(Two decades b/c I know we were using /jk when I was in high school. And, yes, I know /jk stands for 'just kidding' but the tonal implications are basically the same as 'joking').

Many tone indicators are completely unintelligible and I have to look them up every time or just ignore them. But I can't say they're new because /jk's been around since high school and /s for sarcasm has been around since college (for me).

That someone would look at those and be like, what if we had more doesn't surprise me. I figure the most useful ones will persist while the majority will fall away into disuse.

People don't adopt memorize long lists unless necessary. They'll memorize what's useful to them, though.

/hj for half-joking is an interesting one for 'I'm not really serious but I'd still like a response' and I can kinda see myself using it in the future. /gen for genuine as a way to underscore yes, I really mean this could be useful, too. And I've definitely used /jk and /s over the past decades (though not tons).

But /srs (serious), /p (platonic), /r (romantic), /pos (positive connotations), /neg (negative connotations), /c (copypasta), /ly (lyrics), /lh (lighthearted), /nm (not mad), /t (teasing), /m (metaphorically), /rh (rhetorical question), /hyp (hyperbole), /th (threat) and the myriad more?

...I'm a control freak, but not that much of a control freak.

Some of these I could see being helpful if you're around people who constantly misinterpret you or are talking to strangers who have no idea who you are, but I typically talk to friends? Or to communities that give benefit of the doubt?

Tone indicators are not new, but they're not used all over the place because I think they undermine themselves to a bit. If I have to tell someone a statement is a joke, it probably isn't a very good or funny joke. Or the '/jk' is the punchline. And the only time I've used /s is when I know a statement is not immediately apparent as sarcasm or I know too many people have said something similar genuinely. Even then, though, it'd depend on where. And, honestly, I've learned to embed tone in my word choice.

I could say: "He's a great leader. /s" or I could say: "He's such a great leader."

For most people, the inclusion of the italicized 'such' will read as sarcasm. In print you have to go a bit more overboard with things.

Now I'm thinking about adverbs and how they weaken writing. They're so handy. "He ran down the track." vs "He ran rapidly down the track." Except, the better way to do that is to drop the adverb entirely and choose a better word for "ran" like "sprinted." "He sprinted down the track."

I wonder if tone indicators are like adverbs-- a way to improve clarity of meaning (because they can do that!) while also weakening writing and decreasing the need to think about the words you're using.

[dxncingwithastrxnger]

mike loves el so much. he would literally die for her. he would always push her behind him even when he is absolutely unable to do anything.

He really doessss!!! He would do literally anything for her and that's an actual fact. He would equally die and kill for her in order to keep her safe and protected and El hates it because she's the exact same way with him and the both of them being like that is both a blessing and a curse for their relationship. It reminds me of this one meme, hold on, lemme go find it-

This one!!! This right here is literally Mike and El and you cannot tell me otherwise. These two idiots will literally argue about who gets to sacrifice themselves for who

If Stranger Things was a breaking the fourth wall kind of show, Mike and El would do it by arguing about who gets to die or get seriously injured first while fighting a monster and they would both want it to be themselves so that the other one is okay 😂😂😂

And then Dustin would tell them that both of their hero complexes are showing and that they both need to just shut up about it, lmaooo

Except Mike's hero complex is mainly a "I must protect people by jumping in front of a train for them if needed at the absolute first opportunity because then at least my death will mean something and they'll be safe" complex while El's hero complex is mainly a "I need to do everything in my power to protect everyone even if it means dying because if I don't, then I'll no longer see myself as a good person who's worthy of the love, care, and devotion that they give to me" complex.

Neither one is a very good complex, but they're both very deep in them by this point and those 2 complexes in a romantic relationship at least means they'll be directed at each other and there will never be any doubt of them wanting to keep the other safe at all costs. Like I said, both a blessing and a curse 😂💀

But ANYWAYS. It's very, very true!!! Mike loves El more than anyone ever and he would do absolutely anything for her!!!

Thank you so much for sharing your lovely, little, Mileven thought!!!! It's very much appreciated!!!! Hope you're having a good day/night!!!! 💜💜💜

[yjwhatif]

i'm seriously wondering if Lor has grasped that his parents aren't going to know him or if he's been so caught up in everything that he just. HASN'T. like the whole deal at the end of the ep makes it seem like he's expecting some grand reunion and they'll be so proud and thankful for everything he's done but like. Lor they don't know you. you're a complete stranger to them. got a feeling Dru or Ursa are gonna say something like "We don't have a son." next ep and he's gonna be Crushed

This is exactly what I’ve been thinking Anon! I can imagine he’s been so focused on getting them back that he’s never stopped long enough to actually consider what’s gonna happen when he does get them back or even why it’s so important to him to get them back. There’s emotion and vulnerability behind his actions - he was raised to serve a specific purpose - serve the house of Zod - but if there is no house of Zod - then he has no purpose to serve - and if he feels he has no purpose to serve then what’s the point in existing at all. The closed off nature of his upbringing has closed off his ability to ever comprehend a life without Zod or his beliefs in it - lor is reliant on his father - and therefore it makes more sense to go back in time to bring him back than accept his loss and work out the person he wants to be with the freedom he was granted.

Putting aside the unforgivable things he’s done to Bart and Tomar-Re - I can still see a possible outcome where lor finally sees the evil tyrant his father is and ends up being the one to take him down - or at least help to in some way. I think he could find himself on the path to redemption - but he’s definitely nowhere near actually getting full on redeemed by this seasons end. If he’s gonna get redeemed at some point, he needs to end this season contemplating his beliefs/ideals and actions - and start heading on a journey of deconstructing the brainwashing of his upbringing

Lor is genuinely a really interesting character to watch and I’m really interested to see where he ends up by the end of the season - Will his journey carry on or will he remain a villain who gets defeated?

And in terms of Zod - I actually think he may play lor like he has been with Conner - using him as a means of gaining all which Lor has acquired - strategical information, transportation, access to supplies… a rather useful speedster - all which he needs to get him to earth’s yellow sun and claim the advantage he desires. It’ll actually be really interesting to see Bart pick up on what Zod is doing - since Bart is no stranger to the manipulation game - and tell lor as such… can’t you see he’s playing you - it’s the oldest trick in the book!… to which someone just electrocutes him again and lor refuses to listen. I would like to see Bart connect - or at least, try to connect with Lor in some way about knowing what it’s like to lose everything that matters to you - something that plants a seed of doubt in Lor’s mind regarding his father which grows into distrust and finally breaks the hold his father has always had on him.

Though I guess we’ll see what happens in the last two episodes…

LB

[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

[avesseloflanguage]

somebody is going to sacrifice themself for everybody in season 4 volume 2. it's gonna happen. i'm terrible at predicting things but i love doing it anyway and i have Thoughts so i am subjecting everybody to them now.

Eddie: this is the guess i'm most sold on. there's a scene in one of the early trailers where he's playing his guitar in the upside down; after the whole creepy bird/bat/miscellaneous gross flying things bit in vol 1, it would make a lot of sense for him to be sacrificing himself by distracting the monsters. also: his whole speech to the hellfire club, about how he's going to finally graduate, how "this year is different" ?? textbook tragedy setup. also also: he is incredibly queer-coded and i feel like stranger things would be The Show to somehow bury the gays without burying any cAnOn queer characters. also also also: he's clearly very important to Dustin, and as many people have pointed out in the recent trailer, Dustin going into a rage could easily be because a person he cares about deeply was hurt or even killed; it could very well be Eddie. overall, since he was a new character, the writers could've easily planned to kill him because they knew he would be beloved enough to make it emotional, but without having to kill a long-term main character that the fandom has had time to get attached to.

Steve: i'm not really convinced on this one at all, but i feel like there's always a chance, ya know? with this weird Steve/Nancy setup, it could be a peak moment to have a confession of love, maybe a kiss, with the dumb "i'll see you in a minute" thought, or something similarly emotional tied to a confession before sacrifice. also, as i mentioned before, the whole Dustin fight in the trailer could definitely be him defending or avenging Steve. but i really don't think they'd kill Steve at this point — Steve is a character everybody has loved since season 1, and i think the backlash would be too strong. he's also been very important to other characters' arcs and moments, and he's often key to the comedic relief of the show. it wouldn't really make sense to kill him, but it is definitely possible.

Robin: her line in the recent trailer that's like "it might not work out this time" ??? very worrying. it of course makes me nervous for her, but i think it points more generally to the certainty that someone very loved and very important is going to die. but there's always the burying of the gays. sometimes that's enough. on the other hand, i don't think they would have set up this thing with Vicki if Robin was going to die this season; it feels like a lot of effort and a lot of brightness and hope and adorableness just to throw it away by killing Robin. also, i feel like theyre aware of the backlash they would get for killing the singular (current) canon queer character on the show.

Max: this one feels weird, but plausible, to me. it seems like her arc is pointed to her becoming strong and a big hero this season, but the heroics could end in sacrifice. she's clearly a big target of Vecna's, and she's the kind of character who could definitely give herself up if she felt like she was slowing down the team, or causing problems in some other way. or, maybe not even a sacrifice, but she tries to fight Vecna herself and is seriously hurt — or killed. it seems more likely that they would put her in a near-death situation to raise the stakes, push Lucas' character arc, and have her come back even stronger. either way, the opportunity could be used to parallel Billy's death/sacrifice, especially after vol 1 established how guilty Max feels over it. maybe she tries to sacrifice herself with the thought of avenging Billy or getting what she thinks she deserves. i do think that Max is too adored by the fandom, though, and that she's been too well written this season to be the biggest target.

Will: alright, i really don't think they'll kill this boy. he's been too central to the story, and i doubt they'd kill one of the original main four/five. but i want to put it down in case they do because i know all the reasons WHY and HOW it'll go if it does. one: bury the gays. it's simple, it's basic. based on interviews and... literally everything at this point, we all know that Will is definitely gay, and almost certainly in love with Mike. the question is really over whether Mike feels the same way. which brings me to point two: Byler. we're almost definitely getting a love confession from Will to Mike in vol 2, and i could very easily see it going destiel-style; aka, Will says he loves Mike, and Mike either reciprocates or doesn't, but either way, Will sacrifices himself to stop Vecna. considering his connection to the upside down, it wouldn't be surprising if there was a way for Will to stop Vecna, and it would be a perfect opportunity to tug on viewers' heartstrings. however, i still think Netflix/the writers are aware of the "bury the gays" backlash they'd be in for; plus, the cast seems very excited about what is probably Will being in love with Mike, and maybe i'm just naïve, but it gives me hope for the two of them.

knowing me, it probably won't be any of these characters, but i wanted to make my guesses before the show comes out and i have to wait a fucking week to watch it because i'll be out of town. my bets are (unfortunately) on Eddie, but i guess we'll just have to wait and see.

[jeanjauthor]

What makes a person good but seems bad to other people

Hoo boy, this is opening a can o' worms here...

I'm going to give you some really harsh real-world examples, then delve into why these things so disparate on the surface versus underneath. Why? Because a huge chunk of it is all about perspective and point-of-view.

1. People insisting on everyone wearing masks & keeping 6+feet (2+meters apart . . . is GOOD. Republicans insist this is bad. Despite the fact it would literally save their own lives as well as their loved ones, neighbors, strangers--saving lives is GOOD--they abso-fucking-lutely refuse to do it, citing "it's m'gawd given right!!" to not do so. (Sounds like their "god" is the goddamn Devil if you ask me, but I digress.)

The GOP leadership is desperate to keep driving a wedge between their voter base and their political opponents, and have literally done their best to brainwash entire generations to think that anything a Democrat / liberal person says is Evil Incarnate And Must Be Opposed. If their base ever wakes up, they'll stop voting for the people doing everything in their power to keep killing some of them off so they can keep the rest too scared of Voting Any Other Way to, well, vote any other way.

2. People insisting that universal medical care is GOOD (and literally cheaper than what we're currently doing) . . . and again, Republicans whining about how it just can't be done, how DARE we even try . . . because they're depending on the obscene levels of profit their leadership is raking in off of Big Medicine and Big Pharma. So the GOP leadership pushes hard to block every single measure, since it would restore insulin and epipen costs back down to affordability, and that would make them omfg so much less mega-rich than before!!!11!1!11111!1!!1!!!!!

3. People insisting that the money spent on sending rich people to space (and bringing them back safely) should instead be spent on helping society at large . . . and all of Musk's fanbois whining about HOW DARE YOU DOUBT THE VALIDITY OF THE NARCISSISTIC NEEDS OF OUR GLORIOUS TECH LEADER!!!!111!1!!!!!1!1!!

...Don't get me wrong. I genuinely like the Tesla Roof, the whole concept of it, and things like electric cars are a vital part of shifting from reliance on dwindling climate-wrecking & ecology-wrecking fossil fuels to renewable energy, etc, etc. One day, I'd like to be able to get an e-car myself! But remember, that same "techboi guru" Musk is scabbing his own workers' strike to try to force people to work in an increasingly dangerous pandemic because it's hurting his bottom line. Without any regard to his workers' safety & good health. etc. Insisting tht he be taxed so that he can no longer afford to play astronaut would literally mean saving millions of American lives which is a GOOD thing...but he insists it's a bad thing, and he's got his whole fanboi chorus brainwashed into screaming his message, rather than the truth.

4. I got shot, so I punched the guy for hurting me. No, seriously, this is a true example from my childhood. When I was just 7, I was at my grandparents' in the summer, and got very sick. So sick, they drove me to the hospital, thinking I had appendicitis. Turns out I just had a very bad stomach flu. (This was back in the days before those fancy drip regulation machines.)

I'd been vomiting a lot, was very dehydrated, and so the nurse explained she was going to be putting fluids into me via an i.v., that she was not going to take any blood out of me (which you'll admit is a scary thing for a little kid to see)...except she did it wrong and some of my blood got up into the clear plastic tubing. I. Freaked. Out. 4th of July, FAR from home, no parents, no grandparents at this point, in the hands of strangers, she was doing a technically good-for-me-thing, and I had just been LIED to.

Fast forward a few weeks, I go in to see the doctor, apparently I'm supposed to get my regular vaccination shot for going into the 2nd grade--this is a GOOD thing, getting shot. The doctor sticks a needle in lil 7yo me...and I punch him. Right in the cheek, rocked him almost off the stool he was sitting on. Surprised the heck outta him. Surprised the heck outta me, but my brain just immediately went into BAD THING HAPPENING WITH NEEDLES, MUST HURT HIM TO MAKE IT STOP!!!!11!!!!1!!1!! To this day, I have a severe needle phobia.

...And to bring this full circle, it took all my courage and strength to get the COVID shots and to get the flu shots these last two years. I know that getting shot is a good thing, but my hindbrain screams BAD THING HAPPENING every single time.

...

All of these things are a matter of perspective.

Each of these is an objectively good thing--not subjectively, not opinion-based, but fact based objectively good things going on here. Vaccines are a good thing, masking up and staying apart are good things, medical care that nobody has to pay for outside of taxes is a great thing, making rich people go back to paying taxes above a reasonable income level is a great thing, because that would pay for the medical care of everyone, me enduring getting shot with said vaccine is a good thing despite my extreme phobia, etc, etc...

But it's not viewed as such from the perspectives of those who are brainwashed, traumatized, and/or selfish asshats enough to want to win a stupid numbers game by destroying others' lives.

Here's another example, paraphrased from one of Mercedes Lackey's novels (Valdemar universe).

1. Newcomer is Secret Santa to a community, but they can only view him as a Would-Be Murderer.

The example is that say you've got a retired mercenary, he's very wealthy because he was very successful at doing what mercenaries do best in a sword & sorcery universe: fighting & killing for hire. He always tried to pick the righteous side, does his best, and eventually retires and moves into a village. But the non-fighter locals eye him with distrust because of his former career. He tries to make friendly overtures and is rebuffed, but he still wants to do good, so he sends his servants out to secretly and anonymously pay off debts, fix fences, bring in extra grain when a harvest is poor, going out personally to track down and bring to justice any would-be brigands in the area, so on and so forth, because he has all that money, he wants to do good, and this is the only way he can do it that the locals will accept, aka anonymously.

And then one day while he's walking through town, a stranger visiting the area confronts him, they get into a fight, and the mercenary is forced to cut down the stranger, just to defend his own life, because the stranger will not stop attacking him. Although he didn't start it, rumors spread that the stranger was an old enemy coming to avenge fallen comrades, etc. Whether or not this may be true, the perspective of the fearful townsfolk is that This Mercenary Is A Murderer!!!111!1!1!!!1!1!!11!, despite the fact the mercenary didn't want to kill and only ended up doing so to save his own life (a good thing both subjectively for the merc, and objectively for the town which is being supported & protected by his silent good deeds).

To the merc's loyal retainers, he is a good, just, and kind man who is making the world better. To the ignorant villagers, he is a cruel, mean, and vicious killer whom they had best keep their children away from.

To mask-wearers and vaccination-accepters, getting the vaccine is good. To Republican leaders, acknowledging that it's good would destroy their voter base because those voters would flee from their lies...so they do everything they can to make their Republican voters think that vaccines are bad, healthcare is just fine as it is, and there's no money anywhere whatsoever to pay for all of it.

. . . As writers, we need to be able to view things from multiple perspectives, to be able to understand others' viewpoints so that we can write believable and/or realistic protagonists, antagonists, heroes, villains, sidekicks, henchmen, secondary characters, so on and so forth.

It is not a very comfortable position to be in, straddling multiple points-of-view. Especially idiotic and/or villainous points of view. Yet it is a very powerful storytelling tool. Even if you stick to one POV in telling a story, you'll still need to be able to see what the villain is thinking & why they're acting the way that they act. You don't have to accept these alternate viewpoints, but they are important for making a story more believable.

Just...use this power wisely.

Don't brainwash people into killing themselves for your vainglory.

[pay-in-niccals]

"Helping him fall asleep is one thing, but making sure he's by my side in this big world is another... Yeah, even when he's old enough though parting ways won't be easy. Gonna expect daily visits from you mister.."

That point actually had Murder pausing for a moment, he'd adjusted to these tiny infants that were content with silly faces and hugs from both him and his deity. But, when did that mindset suddenly stop? They'd soon be in school, growing less needy of help whilst replacing it with independence bit by bit.

There'd be a slight visible shake of this bassists head while removing this thought, another existential crisis wasn't what he'd need to add onto an ever growing list of perpetual doubt. For now, it would getting home then waiting for this dog related issue to wear off.

'..I'm sorry.'

With an embrace of warm-hearted heat radiating onto him via Dolly's natural beautiful self, calming down only got that much easier than before, something- someone he could rely on possessed hair that matched a fitting nickname for it; noticing her slightest rise in temperature because of a pounding heart gave him ease, a trade that wouldn't cost anything he'd not be unwilling to return.

Now all that had been left for this mutt to do other than wait, which, wasn't a fan favourite not one little bit; eventually Murder whilst keeping undeniably close to Cloud, would use that blood soaked muzzle- which had dried up now thankfully -in impatiently nudging her side, coaxing them in leaving already. An old trait hadn't disappeared that's for sure.

"Ohh.. Why's she not with Murdoc, is she missing too?"

Concern showed in this boys face as it did his voice, wondering about the newer dog that had been mentioned by this friendly stranger. Worry led to increased patts of a certain hellhound, who of which quite frankly put up with them rather well, an explanation for it wasn't needed since it'd be fairly obvious.

"Seriously~? Awh.. I bet she's as sweet looking as this fella is. Actually, what uh- what breed is he? Aha any leash we have now is this similar to this leather one here or chunky metal chains, so I doubt they'll be going anywhere any time soon. Definitely, every little bit helps but there's somethings that you can't prepare for."

It had to be questioned at some point regarding what Murdoc was exactly, the anon hadn't been specific to what type of dog he was, so maybe hellhound would be the correct answer for it. Which, actually Dolly couldn't use to reply without confusion. Possibly unsettled scepticism.

"He's really soft! L-like a Cloud o-or a blanket that's just come out the dryer.. Mine are both really nice to hug too a-and they're always home waiting for me. Like best friends! "

Bobby was comfortably snuggled with Murdog and the babies, leaving the Goddess Dulcinea to wander about wondering where they'd gone since it was so quiet. Soon after, she found her sought after loved ones resting against one another. And Murder was a dog. That, alone, prompted her to shuffle closer to assume a cuddling position without disturbing the twins, draping an arm over Murdoc and Bobby. Dolly nuzzled Bobby before pressing several kisses to Murder's head and closing her eyes. "Good boy."

Murdoc’s long ears perk up in all their long fluffy glory, but fold down when Cloud’s plush lips plant themselves on his head, making way for that tail to begin swishing side to side immediately. “…” He cautiously shifts, getting more and more into the deities lap, not taking into account how big of a dog he actually was.

[ladyslounge-blog-blog]

Women are 'horrible horrible liars'

      Warning: Exceptionally, the following content was not written in a humorous tone and and may be disturbing or triggering to some readers. Reader discretion is advised.   Women are 'horrible horrible liars'. According to Donald Trump in 2016, while referring to some of the women who have... accused him of sexual assault or harassment. Trump. The same man who finds it impossible to believe, much less understand, how a woman might not be able to remember the specific geographic address of the party she attended 36 years ago even though she claims to have been sexually assaulted there. Horrible horrible liars. But maybe that's just because he's never been a woman? Rachel Mitchell on the other hand, is a woman. She didn't call women horrible and she didn't explicitly call Dr. Basey Ford a liar. She did however, write a nine-page memorandum that lied implied stated that Ford “struggled to identify Judge Kavanaugh as the assailant by name.” even though anyone who was watching the hearing saw that Ford was entirely clear about the identity of the person who assaulted her. The memo also seriously questions Dr. Christine Blasey Ford's claims based on her memory, or lack there of, about details that Rachel felt far too pertinent to forget. "Dr. Ford has no memory of key details of the night in question — details that could help corroborate her account." Mitchell notes that she doesn't know the time or place of the incident; she doesn't remember how she got to the party or how she got home.  I don't know beyond any shadow of a doubt that Brett Kavanaugh assaulted Dr. Ford 36 years ago but she seems credible and I can't see any reason why not to believe her. I do however know beyond any shadow of a doubt that Brett Kavanaugh is a bold face liar. And I do know that the speculative "questions" regarding Christine's testimony are not evidence of dishonesty on her part. And I do know that if Rachel truly believes that Christine's inability to remember irrelevant details on the evening of her assault is proof that it didn't happen... it's likely that Rachel has probably never been forcibly violated in the distant past. I have been sexually assaulted 3 times in my life, not including being pressured and/or bullied into having sex when I wasn’t comfortable doing so. And not including attempted attacks or assaults. Not including being *forcibly dragged into a vehicle, at 16 years of age, by a complete stranger and clawing and clambering my way out of the moving vehicle, screaming bloody murder and then being stalked by the driver for months afterwards. Two of the times, I woke up to it happening in my own home, in my own bed, where I was asleep. I have no idea what time of year it was, let alone what the date was. I remember that I was 18 or 19 years old at the time. I remember what my room looked like. I remember the person who did it (it was the same person both times) and I remember waking up to it happening even though I was home alone when I went to bed/sleep. One of those two times I had been drinking, the other time I had not. One of the times was at a party on a houseboat. I don’t know whose boat it was and  I have no idea where it was docked, what day of the week it was or what month or even year it was. I was about 15 years old. I remember the rooms these assaults happened it, the faces of the people who committed them and the way I felt while it was happening and for days after it happened. But I don’t have a clue what led up to it happening or when. I imagine if you had told me the morning of, that I was going to be raped that evening, I might have remember what led up to it because I would have been sick and terrified all day and being sick and terrified is somewhat more memorable than a date or address. I don’t remember what day of the week June 4, 2006 was or what I did throughout that day leading up to the police coming to the door of my home to tell me that my husband's body had been found either. Does that mean they didn't tell me? Does that mean I wasn't traumatized by it?  Does that mean he didn't die?  "Dr. Ford has not offered a consistent account of the alleged assault" — among other things, her accounts about the number of people at the party and whether she could hear conversations varied.  I have no idea how many people were at the party where I was assaulted, I don’t even remember which of my friends were with me that night.  I might have counted at the time and repeated the number over and over and over again in my head until it was etched in my mind if I’d known it would one day be considered “key evidence” in keeping a sexual predator out of the seat of the associate justice of the Supreme Court of the United States, but there's still a pretty good chance that I would not have remembered 30+ years later.  I also don't remember if I could hear conversation in the background on the houseboat. I do remember the sound of water lapping up agains the side of the boat, the sound of his breath on my face and the muffled grunting noises he made into the pillow case next to my head. I could almost hear my own stomach turning; my own blood curdling. All of those sounds - so much more memorable than meaningless backround chatter. One afternoon when I was about 17 (yes, about 17, because I was no longer living in the apartment I rented when I first turned 16, but wasn't yet with the boyfriend I started dating when I was 18 - And that is as accurate as my memory and this statement is going to get) years old, I walked into a police station to file a report. "He jumped out of the bushes at me and he grabbed me but I screamed, I pulled myself out of my jacket and I got away" I sat in the chair across from the police officer who was taking my statement. "Is that what you were wearing?" he nodded toward me. I was sitting in the chair wearing a pair of converse high tops, leggings, a skirt, a Corrosion of Conformity T-Shirt and a plaid flannel coat. "Excuse me?" He rolled his eyes and motioned again, "Is that what you were wearing?". What was weirder to me than the fact that the officer felt that the question was relevant to the crime... and what was weirder than the fact that what I was wearing wasn't even remotely provocative, was that what I'd been wearing the night in question was a pair of baggy overalls and my roommate's huge winter parka, at least 3 sizes to big for me, and a pair of work boots. I do not remember the name of the street I was walking along. I remember that I had tonsillitis because it hurt my throat to scream and my glands were so swollen that my voice sounded muffled. I remember how big his hand was on my arm. Because these are the things we remember over a quarter of a century later. If we asked any other person aged 30 years or older... what they were doing on any given day in 1988, I'm pretty sure that unless they were being born, giving birth, receiving news that a loved one just passed away, getting married or finalizing their divorce. They probably don't have a clue, but they'll still insist they existed. Horrible Horrible liars.   Read the full article

[ladyslounge-blog-blog]

Women are 'horrible horrible liars'

      Warning: Exceptionally, the following content was not written in a humorous tone and and may be disturbing or triggering to some readers. Reader discretion is advised.   Women are 'horrible horrible liars'. According to Donald Trump in 2016, while referring to some of the women who have... accused him of sexual assault or harassment. Trump. The same man who finds it impossible to believe, much less understand, how a woman might not be able to remember the specific geographic address of the party she attended 36 years ago even though she claims to have been sexually assaulted there. Horrible horrible liars. But maybe that's just because he's never been a woman? Rachel Mitchell on the other hand, is a woman. She didn't call women horrible and she didn't explicitly call Dr. Basey Ford a liar. She did however, write a nine-page memorandum that lied implied stated that Ford “struggled to identify Judge Kavanaugh as the assailant by name.” even though anyone who was watching the hearing saw that Ford was entirely clear about the identity of the person who assaulted her. The memo also seriously questions Dr. Christine Blasey Ford's claims based on her memory, or lack there of, about details that Rachel felt far too pertinent to forget. "Dr. Ford has no memory of key details of the night in question — details that could help corroborate her account." Mitchell notes that she doesn't know the time or place of the incident; she doesn't remember how she got to the party or how she got home.  I don't know beyond any shadow of a doubt that Brett Kavanaugh assaulted Dr. Ford 36 years ago but she seems credible and I can't see any reason why not to believe her. I do however know beyond any shadow of a doubt that Brett Kavanaugh is a bold face liar. And I do know that the speculative "questions" regarding Christine's testimony are not evidence of dishonesty on her part. And I do know that if Rachel truly believes that Christine's inability to remember irrelevant details on the evening of her assault is proof that it didn't happen... it's likely that Rachel has probably never been forcibly violated in the distant past. I have been sexually assaulted 3 times in my life, not including being pressured and/or bullied into having sex when I wasn’t comfortable doing so. And not including attempted attacks or assaults. Not including being *forcibly dragged into a vehicle, at 16 years of age, by a complete stranger and clawing and clambering my way out of the moving vehicle, screaming bloody murder and then being stalked by the driver for months afterwards. Two of the times, I woke up to it happening in my own home, in my own bed, where I was asleep. I have no idea what time of year it was, let alone what the date was. I remember that I was 18 or 19 years old at the time. I remember what my room looked like. I remember the person who did it (it was the same person both times) and I remember waking up to it happening even though I was home alone when I went to bed/sleep. One of those two times I had been drinking, the other time I had not. One of the times was at a party on a houseboat. I don’t know whose boat it was and  I have no idea where it was docked, what day of the week it was or what month or even year it was. I was about 15 years old. I remember the rooms these assaults happened it, the faces of the people who committed them and the way I felt while it was happening and for days after it happened. But I don’t have a clue what led up to it happening or when. I imagine if you had told me the morning of, that I was going to be raped that evening, I might have remember what led up to it because I would have been sick and terrified all day and being sick and terrified is somewhat more memorable than a date or address. I don’t remember what day of the week June 4, 2006 was or what I did throughout that day leading up to the police coming to the door of my home to tell me that my husband's body had been found either. Does that mean they didn't tell me? Does that mean I wasn't traumatized by it?  Does that mean he didn't die?  "Dr. Ford has not offered a consistent account of the alleged assault" — among other things, her accounts about the number of people at the party and whether she could hear conversations varied.  I have no idea how many people were at the party where I was assaulted, I don’t even remember which of my friends were with me that night.  I might have counted at the time and repeated the number over and over and over again in my head until it was etched in my mind if I’d known it would one day be considered “key evidence” in keeping a sexual predator out of the seat of the associate justice of the Supreme Court of the United States, but there's still a pretty good chance that I would not have remembered 30+ years later.  I also don't remember if I could hear conversation in the background on the houseboat. I do remember the sound of water lapping up agains the side of the boat, the sound of his breath on my face and the muffled grunting noises he made into the pillow case next to my head. I could almost hear my own stomach turning; my own blood curdling. All of those sounds - so much more memorable than meaningless backround chatter. One afternoon when I was about 17 (yes, about 17, because I was no longer living in the apartment I rented when I first turned 16, but wasn't yet with the boyfriend I started dating when I was 18 - And that is as accurate as my memory and this statement is going to get) years old, I walked into a police station to file a report. "He jumped out of the bushes at me and he grabbed me but I screamed, I pulled myself out of my jacket and I got away" I sat in the chair across from the police officer who was taking my statement. "Is that what you were wearing?" he nodded toward me. I was sitting in the chair wearing a pair of converse high tops, leggings, a skirt, a Corrosion of Conformity T-Shirt and a plaid flannel coat. "Excuse me?" He rolled his eyes and motioned again, "Is that what you were wearing?". What was weirder to me than the fact that the officer felt that the question was relevant to the crime... and what was weirder than the fact that what I was wearing wasn't even remotely provocative, was that what I'd been wearing the night in question was a pair of baggy overalls and my roommate's huge winter parka, at least 3 sizes to big for me, and a pair of work boots. I do not remember the name of the street I was walking along. I remember that I had tonsillitis because it hurt my throat to scream and my glands were so swollen that my voice sounded muffled. I remember how big his hand was on my arm. Because these are the things we remember over a quarter of a century later. If we asked any other person aged 30 years or older... what they were doing on any given day in 1988, I'm pretty sure that unless they were being born, giving birth, receiving news that a loved one just passed away, getting married or finalizing their divorce. They probably don't have a clue, but they'll still insist they existed. Horrible Horrible liars.   Read the full article