#sorry im just. really exhausted and it all feels really pointless bc i will probably have to stay closeted abroad anyway depending on

[tankaramo]

i have two (2) moods:

being gay is a blessing

being gay is a burden

[ichorai]

cellmates ; one ; j.wy

pairing ; jung wooyoung x reader

summary ; stuck in jail after stealing a necklace off the princess, what happens when your new cellmate with an impossible escape plan comes along?

words ; 3.1k

warnings / includes ; medieval au, blood and grime and death and everything in between rip, wooyoung being handsome despite being in a filthy cell djkdfj, wooyoung being a smartass, reader being petrified half the time lol, future suggestive / mature content, cellmates to (future) lovers !!

a/n ; i’ve been meaning to write a medieval au for the longest time bcs im an absolute sucker for them and i finally got around to writing part one !!! pls be patient for part two !! i hope yall enjoy :3 

cellmates masterlist.

The jail cell was cold. You shivered violently, breath misting in front of you as you blew out a tired sigh. They had stripped you of all your clothes except a thin beige tank top (that had actually once been white), and ripped tights. Dried blood matted your hair to your forehead, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care at the moment. It was too damn cold.

You found yourself wishing that you hadn’t stolen that necklace off of the innocent little princess. The silver glinting against her pale collarbones were just too enticing, the angry grumble of your stomach far too loud. That much silver would’ve cost a fortune; you wouldn’t have had to worry about food for years. Unfortunately, the guard caught you before you had time to make your escape, by effectively knocking a heavy baton over your head. 

And the result of your desperate endeavor? A small, icy jail cell in the farthest and darkest corner of the dungeons. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen the sun.

A life sentence for attempting to ‘harm’ the princess. Oh please, all you really wanted was to go to bed without your belly twisting painfully in hunger. At least they weren’t barbaric enough to hang you for that.

The thought had tremors running up your spine. Or perhaps it was the cold.

A dim amber light appeared from the corner of your eyes, echoing footsteps gradually getting louder with each thump. Was it dinner time already? You hadn’t even eaten yesterday’s yet.

The same guard you’d seen just about a thousand times by now appeared in front of the frigid metal bars, melting candle in hand. Grizzly beard blanketing his chin and jaw, faint scar mark running over his left cheekbone, and slanted eyes the color of the princess’ silver necklace. A daily reminder of your worst mistake, it would seem. 

He muttered something unintelligible before shoving a tray through the narrow slot, wintry water sloshing about in the small wooden cup with the same chunk of stale bread on the side that always tasted like metal.

How delicious. The cold had numbed you to the point where hunger was the least of your problems. 

You remembered when you had first gotten here, croaking out a wispy ‘thank you’ to the guard whenever he had given you your food, hoping that he’d take sympathy and give you a bit more, or maybe even get you a blanket. You were foolish back then, you thought solemnly, curling up tighter and burying your face in between your knees. 

Perhaps one of the worst things possible about being in jail was that you had absolutely nothing to do. Sometimes you would try to exercise to keep your blood running through your body and make sure your muscles hadn’t frozen over, but exhaustion constantly hung above you like a stormy cloud. More oftenly, you would make up fantastical stories including dragons and elves and faeries. But after hundreds (or maybe it was just around twenty, but who was counting?) of different stories, your creativity would run short and you would find yourself pausing mid-story, trailing off into a disappointing end of ‘and they lived till they died’.

Turns out you weren’t going to be bored alone, at least. 

You had been in a fitful slumber when you heard the footsteps approach. That was strange, usually there’d only be the one guard to deliver your measly dinner.

Curious eyes grew wide when you took sight of two guards holding up an unconscious man, the toes of his worn leather boots dragging against the damp stones of the dungeon ground. 

What you wouldn’t give for a nice pair of leather boots. Your toes twitched in your worn socks at the thought.

They began stripping him of his clothes, much like they had done to you in the beginning, grunts of exertion leaving them in misty huffs. They left shortly after, grumbling about being ‘fuckin’ cold’. As if they had any right to complain.

In the dim light of the candles, you could barely make out what the new prisoner looked like. He was slumped up against one of the icy stone walls, dark hair tied into a short ponytail. A low groan escaped the man, foot twitching as he slowly aroused from unconsciousness. 

“Fuck,” His voice came out hoarse and raspy. He pushed against the floor to prop himself up at a better angle. More curses left his lips in a rapid flurry. You watched in timid fascination as he raised a pale hand to dab against his forehead, hissing when he pulled away with crimson staining his skin.

Looking upwards, he finally caught your curious gaze. 

The two of you stared at one another for a second before he huffed, reaching up to his head once more. This time, his fingers didn’t only pull away with blood, but with a thin hair pin that glinted against the candle’s small flame.

You hadn’t noticed that your mouth was hanging slightly open when he struggled to his feet, limbs shaking with effort and cold.

And he started picking the lock, stopping every minute or so to blow his breath onto his quickly numbing fingers.

After less than ten minutes, the frozen bars swung open with a rusty creak. 

At that point, you yourself had gotten up, eyes widening. You shuffled closer to your own locked bars. It was as if the man had forgotten you were there, flinching when he turned and saw you pressed up against your cell.

“Don’t leave me here,” You whispered, starting to feel the familiar feeling of desperation clawing at your throat.

For a second, he looked conflicted. A hard, determined film passed over his eyes and he tore his gaze away.

“Sorry,” Was all he said. 

And he left, just as quickly as he had come.

Strings of foul curses left his mouth once he was dragged back. And this time, he was far bloodier than before. He barely looked like the same person.

You had to hold in a breath as they threw his limp body back into the cell, one of them spitting at his feet. Grimacing, you looked away and scowled.

Perhaps if he had let you out as well, the both of you would’ve been able to escape.

Ten minutes after the guards had left, the man across from you reached behind his back to pull something out. He didn’t have another hair pin, did he? Would he let you out this time?

Probably not, you thought bitterly.

The object he pulled out was small and round, a shiny red ball that seemed to glisten beneath the candlelight.

It made a resonating thud against the stone of the cell, echoing down the halls. 

And he did it again. And again. And three, four, ten times more.

“Please stop,” You found yourself saying, a headache brewing behind your temple. But your voice was too soft, drowned out by the incessant bouncing of his rubber ball.

Downing what was left in the damp wooden, you mustered the courage to croakily shriek, “Stop! Please, stop!” 

Startled by your sudden noise, he hadn’t been able to catch the ball’s last bounce, and crimson streaked past as it hit the wall behind him, ricocheting past the jail bars and out into the hallway. You watched silently as it rolled away, until it was far out of your sight.

“Bitch,” You heard him mutter under his breath.

You felt the hairs on the back of your neck rise as you sneered at him, “You’re a fool, you know. Thinking you could escape a place like this.”

“Oh, yeah?” His eyebrows raised while he shuffled closer, pressing his pale face against the cold bars. Now that he was out of the shadows, you managed to get a proper look of his face. He was all bone and skin, dark hair grown a little too long, hazel eyes glinting along with the dim flames. “At least I managed to get out of my cell. That’s probably more than you’ve ever done.”

If he was trying to pick a fight with you, it wouldn’t work.

“What’s the point, anyways? There’s only so much out there for people like us.”

“People like us… ?”

Your eyes darted to him, and you immediately averted your gaze. It’d been a long time since anyone had properly looked at you. Perhaps under all the blood and grime, he’d actually be quite handsome.

“Commoners, peasants. We grow up stupid, work until our fingers bleed, and then die from a disease because we don’t have the money for a healer.”

A low rumble that could pass as a laugh worked its way out of him, “You’re telling me you would rather stay locked up in here than back outside? You don’t want to feel the sun on your face, the taste of sweet fruits, the warmth of another human being?”

“Of course I do,” You retorted. “I’m just saying that it’s pointless.”

The man’s eyes narrowed, “How long have you been here?”

“Too long to keep track.”

At this point, you couldn’t really tell whether it was refreshing to talk to someone after so long, or just plain annoying. He stayed silent for a moment, before speaking up once more. 

“What got you here?”

You huffed. There was no harm in telling him, right?

“I ripped a priceless necklace off of the princess because I was hungry.”

It was as if his volume tripled when he yelped, “You’re Y/N L/N?!”

How he had that much energy after getting beaten up twice, was still a mystery to you.

“The one and only.” You wrapped your arms tighter around yourself. It seemed that you were quite famous in the outside world. 

“That’s amazing,” He breathed out, eyes wide as he leaned further into the bars. “My name’s Wooyoung. I’m your new cellmate.”

Your eyes flickered to his once more. If you were going to be stuck here with him, might as well get to know him a little better.

“I’m not your cellmate,” You deadpanned, despite Wooyoung’s disappointed pout. “You’d need to be in the same cell as me to be my cellmate.”

One of his shoulders lifted in a half-shrug.

“So why are you here?” Part of you was afraid of what he was going to say. He didn’t really seem to strike you as someone who’d do anything seriously terrible… right?

“I… I just threw one or two punches at the crown prince, is all. And maybe a kick to the groin. And gave him a couple broken ribs.” He laughed a little at that last part, as if the memory amused him. 

“You what?”

Scoffing, Wooyoung flicked his hair out of his eyes, “I think you heard me perfectly clear, sweetheart.”

A strange feeling blossomed in your stomach. You shuffled a bit closer to your own bars, until the light hit your face. 

“Was it worth it?”

Wooyoung paused at the unexpected question.

“Yeah, I would do it again. A million times over.” It was the first time he looked away, a distant glaze over his eyes. “He was touching a servant girl and she was begging him to stop. But he didn’t. So I intervened.”

A palpable silence laid over the two of you, thick and heavy.

“Good,” Was all you said. “I’m going to sleep.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s morning.”

You ignored him. Time didn’t matter anymore, not to you. Soon enough, he’d stop caring as well.

Hours and days melted into weeks and months, along with the frost on the bars and the icicles hanging off the ceilings.

At least it wasn’t cold anymore. Everything was wet. 

“Okay… would you rather live knowing how you die or live forever?” Wooyoung asked in queer tone, laying down on the ground with his bare back pressed against the damp stone.

You bit into a chunk of stale bread, pausing to chew around the hard crust before swallowing, “No one wants to live forever.”

“Rich people do,” He murmured, flipping over onto his stomach to do some push-ups.

You averted your eyes. He was right; if you were rich, you would’ve probably chosen the latter option too.

“I’ll choose to live forever when I get out of this goddamn cell. But for now, we’re sticking with knowing how I die,” The raven-haired man huffed out through each strenuous push-up. He’s been getting weaker and weaker by the day, living off of nothing but crispy bread and metallic water and the occasional measly slice of dry apple.

“You’re not getting out,” You scoffed. “We’re not getting out. Why do you keep saying that we will?”

Wooyoung falls flat onto his stomach, blowing his hair away from his eyes in frustration, “And why do you keep saying that we won’t? Do you really think we’re going to die here?”

Throwing your hands up into the air, mouth full and bread crumbs rimming your lips, you nodded vehemently, “Yes! Look around us, Wooyoung. How on Earth would you plan on getting out? I’ve been trying for forever before you came around. I’m still here.”

“Yeah, but that was back when I wasn’t here. Now I am.”

“That’s absolutely great, genius. But guess what? We’re still stuck here!”

Wooyoung scowled at your salty remark. He crawled closer to the bars looking down the hallway to make sure no guards were near. 

Glancing back to you, he whisper-yelled, “I have a plan.” 

“That’s a stupid plan,” You sneered, deadpanning.

The man across from you rolled his eyes, “It’s the only one we’ve got.”

“You do know they’ll find out eventually, right? We can’t just go back to our normal lives.”

“Then let’s run away.” His gaze bore into you as you felt yourself flush heavily. “You and me. We can sneak our way onto a fishing boat, sail off to someplace… not here.”

A shiver ran up your arms, gooseflesh prickling your skin, “Stop.” You mumbled. “Don’t get my hopes up.”

Wooyoung grasped the bars tightly, knuckles turning white, “Y/N, listen to me. We can do it. I swear, I’ll get you out of here.”

It was stupid, you knew it was. But you couldn’t help the small spark of hope flare in the middle of your chest, heart pumping just a tad quicker at his words. Hope was an intoxicating drug; you either get sucked into some sort of deluded fantasy, or live without the illusions of false happiness. 

However, The words left you before you even had a chance to hesitate. “You promise?”

“I swear on my next slice of dried apple.” He said, eyes twinkling with excitement behind the shaggy, overgrown hair. 

“Okay.” You breathed out, somewhat satisfied. The dull ache in your spine was ignored as you slumped against the stone wall, closing your eyes and imagining what outside was like. All you could recall about outside was how terrible it was. Of course, not as bad as being in here, but not much to look forward to.

Cracking an eye open, you glanced to Wooyoung, who had curled up into himself in the corner of his cell, slightly obscured by the shadows. 

Life outside seemed better when you imagined yourself with Wooyoung.

“Remember the plan?”

Wooyoung snorted, rolling his eyes, “How many times have you asked me that now?”

You scowled, “Just making sure you won’t mess anything up. Can you really guarantee you’re strong enough to knock him out?” 

Biting down on his lip, he shrugged in a nonchalant manner, “I’ll try my best. And if that’s not enough, well… it was nice meeting you.”

The two of you waited in tense silence for a couple minutes, the expected thudding of boots coming down to give the two of you your meals for the day. The familiar grey eyes of the guard swept over the two of you, bending down your cell first to shove the tray through the narrow slot like he had hundreds of times before. 

Then, he turned to Wooyoung.

“What’s on the menu today, sir?” 

Stormy eyes narrowed, the guard’s nose wrinkled in distaste, “Th’ same shit you eat every day.” His gravelly voice rumbled, clearly not used to prisoners being able to talk, much less form coherent sentences. “It’s what criminals like you deserve.”

A gasp of mock-offense left Wooyoung in the most dramatic manner possible, “Why, if stopping a rapist from raping is worse than being a killer and killing, then I must be the worst criminal alive.”

“You better shut your mouth before I get half the mind to carve your tongue out for you.” The guard spat, nearing closer towards the bars menacingly, one hand on the hilt of his sword. He wasn’t below leaving a prisoner bleeding and tongueless. 

Wooyoung did nothing but raise an eyebrow, “Oh, come now! I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of kills. Especially when you swore an oath to protect a murderous king!”

Your eyes widened slightly; you had no idea he would go as far as to claim treason. 

The guard, however, cackled the ugliest laugh you’d ever heard. “You seem really not to like your tongue, boy. Only, for that comment, they’ll be taking your head along with it.”

It all happened so quickly, you wouldn’t even have the time to scream if you wanted to. 

Just as the guard leaned closer tauntingly, nose almost brushing against the rusty metal bars, Wooyoung grabbed the front of the guard’s steel collar, yanking him forward into the metal columns with all of his might.

A sickening crack echoed across the stone. 

It happened again, and again, and three more times after that. Wooyoung was panting, eyes wild.

“Is he dead?” You craned your neck to try to get a good look, but it was too dark to make out much of anything. 

“No. He’ll wake up with a nasty concussion in a couple hours, give or take.” 

“Where’d you learn how to do that?” You asked, heart pounding far too loudly in your ribcage. The faint sound of jingling almost had you bursting into tears of joy. He had the keys.

A small, non-committal hum emitted from Wooyoung’s cell. “You learn from dreaming about all the different ways you could’ve done that to the crown prince. And thankfully, I got the chance.” Suddenly, Wooyoung appeared in front of your cell, a ring of small keys hanging from his pointer finger, the widest grin spread across his face. “Told you I’d get you out, didn’t I?”

[fairycosmos]

hey so im 17 and i have a lot of acne on my face and stuff and like. a lot of it is bc im very anxious so i end up picking at my face and sometimes i don’t have enough energy to shower/wash my face as much as i should and i Know celebrities aren’t a fair metric but like.......i realized that im really one of the only girls in my grade that still has bad acne?? and i just feel. ugly?? my face is always cover it acne and red spots?? like i don’t think other people w acne are ugly but. hhhhh.

hey man me too!! i have pretty bad acne on my face/sometimes on my shoulders and i completely understand how much it can impact your self esteem. the main cause of it is probably your hormones since you’re 17 and they’re still out of wack, you know? it’s really a very common, every day thing. it’s probably going to calm down as you get older. while it may seem like the other girls in your year have it all figured out, they’re dealing with puberty and adolescence in the same way that you are. you only see a very surface level impressions of their lives, so comparison is pointless. but look, if you’re noticing small details in your routine that you know you need to improve upon, then using that self awareness and actually acting on it is the next step. obviously acne is literally nothing to be ashamed of at all, and it’s as normal as body hair and moles and other natural human occurrences. but if it’s having a massively negative effect on your mental well being, then that’s the only reason you should want to work on it - as a form of self care. do a little bit of research about the type of skin that you have. once you know, see if you can try out a cleansing solution that works for your skin. dont use harsh or heavily scented products. you have may have to try out a few different things to find a good one. see if you can get into some sort of routine. it literally can begin with doing it once a week, and sometimes you may not even manage that, and that’s alright. as long as you’re trying, you’re doing well enough. if that feels like too much, maybe you could try facial cleansing wipes instead, they’re significantly more convenient. and idk what the healthcare situation is like where you live, but asking your doctor to refer you to a dermatologist is also an option you could consider with your parents, if that’s at all possible. i’m thinking of doing it myself. seeing a specialized consultant and taking personalized advice can do wonders, you know? the only other manageable thing is your diet. try your best to make healthy choices and make the conscious choice to drink more water. 

it’s very cool that you can recognize that acne doesn’t make others ugly. you can use that to understand on a more realistic level that it doesn’t detract from your looks, either. if you’re prone to low self confidence, then your mind will amplify the problem and make it into a bigger deal than it actually is. while i think it’s completely pointless to worry about beauty when it’s such a subjective and fleeting thing, when it doesn’t have anything to do with who you are, i completely understand why you feel the way you do. because i’m in the same boat. and i hate myself for hating the way i look, but i still do. and it’s because we’ve both been conditioned into believing in a completely unobtainable ideal, right? that’s just the truth. so if we can accept that fact, then we can realize that there is always going to be something we’re unhappy with when it comes to our bodies. because that’s what we’re taught, so they can make money off of our self hatred. you could have perfect skin and you’d still have insecurities. you can try all of the things i listed above, and still have acne. so my point is, a stable sense of self love/self appreciation has to transcend your body and the way it looks. this is deeper than your skin. to find true comfort you have to actively work on being okay with who you are every day. use self affirmations, notice all of your good traits and the fact that they haven’t disappeared just cause you have spots. try not to commodify yourself and your body. you’re not for consumption, you don’t owe the world a level of perfection that isn’t even real. you know there’s no wrong way to exist. so, try to practice complete self acceptance in the quiet moments you spend alone. even if you feel stupid doing it at first. you can have acne and still look in the mirror and be happy with what you see. next time you stare at your reflection, try to find three positive things about it. force yourself to. fight the urge to fixate on something that is out of your hands. as a side note, it’s also always good to remember that we focus on our own flaws 1000x more than anyone else does. it’s definitely more noticeable to you than it is to others. they’re too busy worried about themselves, and how they look, just like you are.

i think it’s also worth noting that the two things you’re worried about - not having the motivation to wash your face, and picking at your skin - are symptoms of more serious, complex issues that you need to get help with before you worry about anything else. of course, idk the details of what’s going on and i’m not trying to assume anything. but when you’re dealing with a lot of emotional turmoil/mental stress, and you’re keeping it all bottled up inside, it’s very common for it to manifest in physical habits/ticks. you need to confront the root causes of your anxiety/your mental exhaustion, because the rest is just a symptom of that. get to the heart of the problem, instead of trying to deal with the consequences of it first. if you haven’t done so already, i’d really recommend talking to your doctor or maybe a school counselor or your parents about what’s happening. i know it sounds like the worst idea in the world, and i know it feels a lot more complex than that, but you genuinely don’t have to deal with this all by yourself. your brain wants you to believe that you need to stay quiet so you’re easier to control, but in reality, that’s not the case. there is support available. there is a way to make this all feel lighter, and to cope in a healthier way. and yeah, it’s a bit embarrassing to talk about what’s going on in your head. you dont even have to want to do it. you just have to try to accept it as a viable option. please don’t let your head talk you out of considering it, okay? you can’t control the circumstances you find yourself in but you honestly can control how you cope with them. anyway i’m sorry this is so long and i really hope you’re able to find some confidence and peace of mind soon. you deserve it. let me know if you need a friend or someone to talk to, i’ll be here.

[whomturgled]

lil vent feel free 2 ignore

sorry i just need to write out Feelings and stuff so i can organize thoughts i guess rip do not reeblog it's personal and irrelevant i have mixed feelings about my life rn. well mostly bad but like isn't that always how i am lmfao. dropping out of school was a temporary fix, i think. i don't know if i regret it or not. like, yes, regret, but only really because it's going to impact my future and make things harder. i'm most likely going to have to go back at some point, and idk how i'm going to do or handle it. i also have no idea when or where. like everything is just vague and uncertain in my life and i need.... Structure. like yeah i'm really good at bullshitting and that's basically how i've made it this far but like i've always had some goal sorta (where i was gonna live, who with, what education or career i was going to pursue, etc)? the goal would change often but like... idk. school made me wanna die and dropping out kinda helped ease some of the pressure i was facing but like here i am wanting to die again? my therapists are always like,,,, man u just gotta be Doing Something haha,,, stay busy and you'll be fine! well i'm busy. i'm really busy but also not at all. i work 8 hours or so every day and i spend the rest of the day resting bc everything is exhausting? i feel like i don't do anything productive really. i used to think that having a job was productive enough but like idk? things just seem.... pointless. i have no friends really. like i have gav and a couple ppl i met online who are far away who i can't keep up with,,, but i can't even see gav or talk to them often bc now they're over an hour away by train and i never have time between sleeping and working and all my other friends are super far away too and have stopped talking to me and idk. i just don't do anything anymore. i feel so pathetic and pointless. some things got better i guess. abuser isn't living here anymore. 9 months on t today. i have money so i can like... do shit if i want to but i literally have nothing to do. my mom doesnt want to charge me board or w/e bc she doesn't rlly care and i barely do anything anyway like i sleep and sometimes eat but barely and even then i buy my own food usually. i pay my phone bill ? and anything else i rlly need/want i just buy it myself bc i can idk. there's just no point idk. maybe i could get top surgery this year but for what lmao? i can keep working but why ? this part time job isn't going to get me anywhere and it certainly isn't going to make me enough to live by myself yknow i don't think i even could live by myself id take care of myself even less and be even lonelier and probably just end up sabotaging myself. i can go back to school but then i probably can't work and go to school bc that's too much bc im fucking stupid and everything is too hard. and why bother with school the only pathways i can rlly follow now are going back to part time jobs with just my hs diploma or maybe going to college ? but school is already so hard ? and what would i even go to college for ? and would it even matter ??? i bet you anything i'd still end up working part time, but then i'd have a degree for nothing and be in debt lmfao. idk everything feels pointless and i want to die but i also don't even care idk what i want i just idk is there a way to just stop existing and it doesn't make my mom or cats sad idk