#this love story will self destruct

[s0fter-sin]

metalhead ghost who’s been in moshpits since he was a kid and is now a veteran of the scene and the self appointed look out. he keeps an eye out for anyone falling or passing out, kicks the shit out of anyone crowd killing or putting their hands where they shouldn��t

and he’s been keeping an eye on the punk in the kilt since he saw him throw himself headfirst into the wall of death

he looks like the type to start shit - loud and aggressive as anyone else here but a punk doesn't end up at a metal show for no reason - but there's also something niggling at him that he's gonna end up getting himself hurt. and ghost can’t tell if he’s going to do it on purpose

if he does, ghost needs to know. he uses these places as an escape - the music, the violence, the community - always has and he knows all to well how easily an escape can curdle and become destructive. he’s seen too many people lost to the darker parts of the scene, almost lost himself to it; he doesn’t want it to happen to anyone else if he can help it

so when he sees the punk sweating his mohawk off, his movements becoming looser and uncoordinated, he has no issues with yanking him out of the pit and pulling him away from the crowd; pushing him up against the venue wall and ordering him to open his mouth

the glaze that falls over his eyes concerns him even as he obediently lets his mouth fall open. he was right; the punk’s severely dehydrated, tongue and gums far to pale and along with the look in his eyes, he half-thinks he’s about to drop

he reflexively tightens his hold on his jaw to keep him up and the punk shivers, a flush creeping up his neck. an almost confused arousal joins the haze in his eyes and ghost smirks beneath his mask

looks like metal shows aren’t the only thing the punk is new to

[alexandriahampton]

Your lips drip poison that prove to be fatal

and somehow,

it's the sweetest taste I've ever known.

My mama always told me

that she was drawn to

what would only destroy her in the end,

and as I lick my lips at the sight of my demise,

I can only believe that a lack of self love

is hereditary.

-Alexandria Hampton, from my poetry book: Metamorphosis

[beck-nightengale]

Catharsis (Spoilers)

And it is only these moments in which we can make a decision - the decision to either act, or to let the moment pass, until the veil seals itself again and we once more are the slaves of our habits.

What we were granted, was a moment of lucidity.

And it gives me hope that the woman I loved has not died in vain...

...and that we continue walking.

[leavemeslowly]

The more my mother was reaching out to me, the more I was running away.

Everyone has always talked about wanting attention. Searching for it. You were kissing older guys, skipping school, going to parties because you were desperate for attention. That was the assumption.

When truthfully I didn’t want any of it. No attention. I didn’t want anyone to notice or see me. My body was a burden to a point that I have decided I won’t have a body at all. Which should have been alarming but no one knew about that decision to point it out.

I became bodiless. And then person-less. A see-through something.

[cream-and-tea]

oh man the judge/calliope and pallas&agnes thoughts are really eating holes in my brain tonight,,,,,,

[quietwingsinthesky]

Irks me a little bit whenever Dean torturing in Hell is positioned as his own fault, or even really his choice to do. We get given the solid number, 30 years of torture for him and 10 inflicting it on other people (which was also more torture for him because it’s Hell, the torture evolves, it doesn’t stop), and we get told that wasn’t long enough. That John held out longer. That angels were going to pull Dean out of Hell and if he’d just held on a few years more, the seal wouldn’t have been broken.

But that isn’t true, right? We know Heaven wanted the seal broken, ergo Dean wasn’t getting saved until it was. Until it, and he, we’re thoroughly broken and usable by Heaven to achieve their own ends (ie to make him into a good (obedient) Michael sword.) So, it wouldn’t have mattered how long he held out in Apocalyptic terms because the game (that he didn’t know he was playing) was rigged against him.

But more importantly for Dean, the amount of time he managed not to break literally does not matter. Because it was never going to be long enough. Thirty years, forty, a hundred, a thousand, it does not matter how long he held out because the breaking itself is the unforgivable part to him and the breaking was always inevitable.

Anyway. There’s my Dean meta for the year. Eat up, I guess.

[bbubbleo]

you ever think about tntduo. i hate them /pos

BROTHER YOU HAVE NO IDEA if not for feeling shame of being wrong or judged i would not shut the fuck up about them

[yardsards]

the carmilla webseries (particularly s3) makes some really interesting points about amatonormativity that i think are probably accidental but still fascinate me.

like there's this intended theme of like, being so devoted to one person that you put them above everyone else, and the harms that can cause. and that theme is primarily explored through laura and carmilla's relationship, especially as a foil to the dean and her beloved. but also with lafontaine and how they kinda subvert that.

(i could write essays analyzing this, tbh)

anyway. the show primarily explores the themes of putting one person above everyone else through the lens of romantic relationships, because that's just kind of the genre they're operating under. but that (again, probably unintentionally) brings up a theme of amatonormativity. because amatonormativity expects you to have one romantic partner and to put them above everyone else, to unquestionably value them more than any of your friends.

anyway, with that background out of the way, what i'm really thinking about currently is danny in s3

there's that scene early on in the season, when danny's all evil vampire mode. and laura says that her and carmilla are "just friends". and danny threatens laura in front of carmilla and is like "surely you wouldn't mind me hurting her/would be willing to let her die to keep the talisman, if you two really are just friends"

and like, while danny is correct in her observation that laura and carmilla's feelings about each kther are clearly not platonic, her logic is absolute garbage. me and the friend i was rewatching it with were both like "??? no i absolutely WOULD still mind if someone threatened my purely platonic friend like that, you'd be a pretty garbage friend to not care". like, danny's logic in that scene is peak amatonormative nonsense.

but then. at the end of the season. it's danny's *platonic* love for kirsch that ends up connecting her back to her humanity. it's kirsch that she finally breaks free of the dean's influence to protect. kirsch that she's willing to risk it all for.

it wasn't laura, the girl she had a crush on. it was kirsch, who she had a whole thing about in the previous season about how she explicitly did NOT have any romantic towards him and 100% solely saw him as a platonic friend. it was her "just a friend" who ultimately ended up meaning everything for her.

[mostlymaudlin]

was starting to hijack in the tags of that post i just reblogged but ohhhhh it is so juicy to me that the end of TKM is just part of the rising action of andrew's character arcs. and yet the way the novel leaves off, you can have so much hope in the ways its going to continue -- especially because neil proves to us on the last page that he's going to fight like hell to hold onto him whatever comes next.

it's just !!!! all andrew's deals are done. neil's big happy moment of relationship security comes from the fact that andrew didn't deny its existence lol. BUT neils correct to be happy about this, because he knows andrew is a black & white thinker, and he's entering unchartered territory! all his lil lies he uses to duct tape his sanity together are coming apart, and that break is going to be FASCINATING. i doubt it'll be explosive or anything -- andrew's more the "quietly self-destruct climax" type than the "defeat the mafia thru the power of sports climax" type -- but it'll sure be something interesting. and then once it all breaks, we know he'll have neil and kevin and his family and the foxes to help him heal -- and he'll have to believe it when they show they care about him, because he literally doesn't owe anyone anything

[just-emis-blog]

The Okayest Adventures of Bunny Guy

Issue #3

“What’s wrong little bunny rabbit? You’re not giving up so soon, are you?”

Had there not been a giant tentacle wrapped around his esophagus and suspending him about 20 feet up in the air, Nicholai would have happily responded with a resounding “yes dear god please end me”. As it stood, all he could manage was a sort of gurgling noise, so thankfully his promise to the more mainstream Superheroes to cease asking Villain’s to publicly execute him would remain kept. 

The Villain cackled in the face of Nicholai’s pathetic response. He was a muscular, bipedal wolfman about the size of a double decker bus, with huge octopus tentacles erupting from his back and either side of his torso. Merely twenty-four hours ago he was Jim Steelburn; mild mannered Calculus Professor at Umbre University. He had transformed into this monstrosity after making a grievous error in an experiment he was conducting illegally on school grounds - something about changing New Balance’s into gold or making his dick bigger (Nicholai had stopped listening halfway through the intro monologue. He was sleep deprived. Sue him) - and had summarily done what all these mad scientist types seemed to do when they were granted even a modicum of power: he flounced off to rob the nearest bank.

Forget the fact that most modern banks didn’t have a cartoonishly giant vault with millions of dollars worth of cash and jewels and bitcoins inside. Let it never be said that having a STEM degree didn’t make you any less of an idiot.

As Mr. Steelburn - now self christened Bruteavus - continued to rant about all the complex and inventive ways he was going to kill him, Nicholai forced himself to stop struggling - dropping his hands from their desperate hold on the tentacle, ceasing his fruitless kicks to the air, letting his large black rabbit ears droop down on either side of his head in defeat. It was agonizing, and the little bit of air he’d been able to draw in was nearly cut off completely, but he needed an opening to catch this jackass off guard. If he had gotten a good read on the guy’s little Apex Predator gimmick, then playing dead should do the trick.

It wasn’t long before Bruteavus took notice of his limp captor. His salivating maw curled into a vicious smirk as he finally stopped whipping Nicholai about like the sack of discount potatoes that he was. He whirled around and spread his normal (normal??) wolf arms out to address the cowering crowd of civilians. “Is this pathetic rodent all the City has to protect it? Pathetic!” he bellowed. Boastful. Already confident in his win. Just like clockwork. “Gather ‘round everyone, and see what happens to those stupid enough to challenge me! The Terrible Bruteavus!”

Bruteavus carried on. Nicholai flicked his wrist, causing a dagger to drop into his waiting palm. Then, he swung his arm out as far as it would allow and proceeded to stab the tentacle holding him by the throat, furiously and repeatedly, over and over and over again.

Bruteavus’ howl of pain was more akin to a crying husky than the mighty wolf monster he claimed to be. At around the seventy-fifth stab the octopus limb finally released him, sending him plummeting to the ground. There were gasps of shock sounding off in the crowd. Whether it stemmed from concern over his graceless carcass slamming spine first onto the unforgiving street, or fear from his earlier rapid fire shanking, Nicholai didn’t know. Nor did he have time to reassure them that he was alive and not a feral serial killer, as Bruteavus had recovered and was sending his remaining octo limbs to crush and/or capture him again.

Nicholai used his speed and super hearing to duck and dodge the tentacles. On a normal day he would’ve been able to subdue such a whack ass, low tier Villain in a matter of minutes, but today he wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders, as it were, so instead this rather one sided beatdown had been going on for several hours. Hours where he was quickly losing stamina, and dangerously close to succumbing to his injuries -

“Bunny Guy! Look out!”

A very brave, very adorable, very not so smart child had broken through the barricade the cops had put up to keep the civilians out of the way of the battle, pointing dramatically at something Nicholai didn’t bother to check, because the boy had put himself in the way of an incoming tentacle. Nicholai had just enough time to expel an utterly exhausted sigh before rushing towards the kid.

Now. Honestly. The plan was to grab the kid, execute some very cool flips to doge the tentacle, deposit said kid into his parent’s awaiting arms, and wrap up the whole maneuver by giving a hearty thumbs up (just like how Captain Gold-Star had taught him) to reassure the public.

His body, unfortunately, did not feel like following certain aspects of that plan. So all he managed to do was push the kid out of the way, just in time to take the full force of the tentacle to the chest, and be sent careening into the door of a distant jeep cherokee.

For an unknown amount of time all Nicholai could do was lay there in a bloody heap on the pavement. There was a piercing ringing going on his ears, along with the faint sounds of yelling and possibly the alarm of the jeep he had just dented to hell and back.

Bruteavus approached him, slow and menacing like, probably making some stupid puns about predators and prey. Nicholai had about two brain cells firing at any given time, and the one that liked to indulge in the art of corny banter had been stabbed out of him during a mugging he had prevented earlier this morning. Instead, he put his full concentration into making his horribly aching body get up and move. Not for the first time he wished he had something more to protect him than his athletic body suit, hoodie, basketball shorts (some cheap off brand that he got suckered into ordering, too. The fabric dark green instead of black, and the words Indianapolis Spacers emblazoned on his ass. Who the fuck were the Spacers Amazon??) and a finicky healing factor that was highly dependent on carrots of all things. 

Vigilantism just wasn’t a very lucrative business, so unessential things like gear and food were often in short supply.

But boy howdy could he use one of those top of the line, nanotech, under armor that the Super Alliance were always toting, he thought as the blood he’d been coughing up dripped unpleasantly through his gaiter mask. Being hurled into various buildings and sharp objects probably wouldn’t hurt nearly as much if he could wear one of those bad boys.

“Times up little bunny, no more running.” Bruteavus chuckled cruelly, now standing only a few feet in front of him, and Nicholai had only managed to put his arms under him and lift his torso somewhat off the ground. “And - Oh! It looks like your luck has really run out, rodent. It seems we have a surprise guest joining us in our game today!”

Nicholai’s ears twitched at the sound of crunching glass and debris - another set of footsteps approaching at a leisure pace. He wasn’t bluffing then, not that the wolfman needed to with him so incapacitated, but - jeeze louise. Two Super Villains in one day? How many babies had he kicked into an endzone in his previous life to deserve this kind of misfortune?

A pair of steel toed boots came into his line of sight from his prone view, but instead of kicking him in his unprotected throat (a fairly prime place for a Villain to kick Nicholai had learned from experience), the figure continued past until he was standing in front of him.

“What an honor it is to finally meet you in person, Plague Master! Allow me to introduce myself - they call me Bruteavus, and I - ACKKCHH!!!!!!”

Bruteavus broke off into a primal and guttural scream as a buzzing, black cloud engulfed his entire form and lifted him several feet into the air. Parts of the writhing dark mass separated into two enormous hand-like shapes; each of them grabbing a fist full of Bruteavus’ tentacles and pulling them apart, while the remainder of them wrapped around him tightly in a blackened blanket, keeping only his snout and eyes visible.

Eyes that were bulging in increasing panic, as the previously thought to be black specs revealed themselves as thousands upon millions of small metal scarab beetles, crawling around every inch of his befurred form, and leaving no orifice unexplored. 

Nicholai pushed himself up into a sitting position, and after the world stopped spinning, was able to get a good look at the back of the towering mysterious Villain in front of him. 

Hm. Even without the horrifying death cloud currently tormenting Bruteavus, Nicholai would recognize those shoulder blades anywhere.

“Hey babe, what brings you here?”

“You were late for our brunch, dearest,” replied the Villain, the staticy sound of his voice modulator unable to hide his charming British accent.

Late? Nicholai blinked a few times in confusion. It could be the blood loss talking, but he could’ve sworn that they’re date wasn’t scheduled until (he checked his watch) seventy-two…hours…ago. Oof. Yikes. Somewhere between rescuing those baby ducks out of that manhole and getting kidnapped and getting stabbed in the kidney by that mugger and then this whole Scott McCall wannabe debacle he must have lost track of time…

“Ah dang, sorry hon. I really goofed it this time.”

“All is forgiven, beloved.” He looked over his shoulder, taking in Nicholai’s sorry state. His metal mask was featureless except for the two, glowing red dots where his eyes would be, so Nicholai could not read his expression, nor could decipher his tone with the modulator making his every word as monotonously pleasant as GPS directions. “I am simply glad that I found you.”

Noticeably, the volume of Bruteavus’ screaming increased tenfold. Oh boy.

“Babe? Babe. What did we say about killing people in cold blood, babe?”

“Make them beg before dealing the final blow.”

Oh boy.

“Close. It’s to not do that. Tell you what, since you tried so hard I’ll still make you your favorite brownies.” With all the remaining strength that stupid radioactive alien rabbit had granted him, Nicholai hauled himself up into a standing position. “All you have to do is let go of the furry OC I drew back in 8th grade over here, and - and I’ll get right to that.”

The beginnings of tendons tearing and bones cracking echoed throughout the street. Nicholai placed a trembling hand on the Villain’s arm.

“Please?”

The screaming stopped. The cloud dispersed, which caused Bruteavus to fall abruptly back to earth, all of his unnecessary limbs intact, if a bit worse for wear.

Plague Master spun around, dismissive and unconcerned of the enemy at his back. He placed one gloved hand lovingly on his cheek, while the other gently held his arm in a supportive gesture. A good thing too. Nicholai definitely wouldn’t be able to hold his own weight up for much longer.

“Well, you know I do so love your brownies, darling. You’ll make the ones with the raisins?”

“Yes I’ll make them with your gross ass raisins.”

“You pronounced ‘delicious’ incorrectly, my love.”

“Monster.”

“Mm. Your monster.”

He caught a glimpse of Bruteavus, who hadn’t moved from his position except to wrap his own tentacles around himself while he rocked back and forth for comfort. Then his gaze shifted to the crowd of civilians, who seemed to collectively be having a mass fear response and were completely paralyzed in place. 

Nicholai sighed in fond exasperation and pressed his cheek further into his boyfriend’s palm. His monster indeed.  

[1babyporcelain]

Oh no.

'Oh no, I'm re-reading our conversations. Oh no, I know you're unavailable emotionally'.

Oh no.

- A 2024 love story

[wolves-in-the-world]

tags on krakenartificer's post about a leverage au where nate enters the priesthood but ends up running cons for people who come to him for help anyway:

#now i need a crossover episode of catholic priest nate who's still running leverage style shenanigans #with father brown [via @trivalentlinks]

thank you for making me stare at the wall in fascination and horror about this crossover

they'd be occasional allies occasional confidantes they'd go behind each other's backs once or twice and only kinda regret it. This nate hasn't gone through the same loss as in canon, but that wouldn't make him a whole lot softer, so he'd be fundamentally irritated with father brown - his tested and unshakeable belief and his optimism about the human condition - and father brown would be generally concerned about everyone on nate's end, and nate not the least of it. They'd play chess together and be fairly well-matched. They'd visit each other's confessionals to check in.

we'd get some interesting acknowledgement of father brown's "I'm nice and simple and harmless" grift (which I could also call power negativity) which is only kind of a grift because he really is that nice and harmless beneath, except that he uses it to get information from people.

flambeau would be utterly thrilled and (playfully?) insulted not to be father brown's only criminal associate.

the leverage crew would be correctly suspicious of flambeau, I think, but sophie would greet him by name - possibly with a kiss to the cheek, possibly eyeing him like he's a viper in their midst - and reference some very improbable occasion when they were after the same prize. He mentions she was using a different name then; he doesn't say what it was. Bonus points if he also had his eye on the dagger in the Rashomon Job but had the flu / was unexpectedly in prison / had to attend a grandmother's funeral at the time.

I have this certainty in my mind that the leverage crew would be largely dismissive of sid's abilities and he'd kind of snort and roll his eyes about it - he's at worst a common criminal and very lower class, so he's used to being understimated - and surprise them with his connections or lock-picking or holding his own in a brawl or fixing an elderly car in the quickest dirtiest way imaginable. (Parker would decide she likes him then; the others would be reassured after seeing how gentle he is when talking with her.) He'd also nope out of leverage's business at a sensible time, because father brown's rubbed off on him and he doesn't actually want that kind of danger - unless the con's personal.

(I'm not sure whether to set this in leverage time or drag it back to father brown's 1950s so I'm settling for mashing the two together and pretending it's not an issue. See also: geography.)

… father brown would have I think one harrowing conversation with eliot where they mention their time in the military, the marks that killing people and losing people leaves on a person - father brown already does this in canon, tells someone it's unfair that they're mired in trauma and alcoholism when he found his faith through trauma instead, it floored me - and after brushing on repentance and god here, he wouldn't bring it up with eliot again. (I think father brown varies on this in canon, frankly, but he often respects that kind of boundary, and I think he'd recognise a wound so sore it should be left to heal however it can.)

(yes I'm playing with fictional priests like barbie dolls but no I'm not comfortable with the conversion aspects, so apologies and bear with me while I skate on past that.)

(he'd describe eliot as a good person, once, or as someone working very hard at it. Eliot would be on edge about that for the entire con, finding a little too much uneasy satisfaction in getting to knock people out and play the bad guy - play at the simpler stuff he used to do. Sophie might catch father brown for a word about it; father brown wouldn't be that clumsy again.)

I think father brown and nate would both talk bunty out of getting involved in a joint kembleford-leverage operation except in the most innocent way possible. The problem is she actually would make a good getaway driver, and she's thrilled with the idea, but she's already had some run-ins with the press and the law and can't risk another; luckily she's better used as a distraction elsewhere.

and I'm sorry to do this, but I think lady felicia's husband would be a mark or potential mark at one point. It would be fraught.

(the main reason I haven't recommended father brown's heist episode (s7e10), aside from not having a background on the politics in it, is that it shows lady felicia as a victim and pulls the heist on her behalf. The show largely convinced me to ignore the messy reality of her and her husband's inherited wealth, but that episode made me kinda uncomfortable - which is a shame, because seeing these characters pull a heist was fucking great.)

mrs mccarthy would be used against her will or knowledge as a distraction while someone's pockets are picked. She isn't told until afterwards, and then only half by accident. She is, of course, horrified. Father brown was absolutely the one to suggest it in planning, but flambeau slips in mid-apology to smoothly take the blame.

I could in fact go on and this is in fact a problem.

—

editing to continue:

I'm actually thinking that father brown might approach eliot from an ex-military angle and not a Religious Authority angle at all - eliot was raised protestant, after all, and it's an entirely different vibe. And I have to think eliot's guarded around father brown for the very fact that he's a priest and seems to mean it in a way that nate, I feel, wouldn't. So they may avoid the topic entirely, or as close to it as they can when brushing on, well, eliot's entire moral injury situation. Which is good news for me.

bunty would admire parker for being different and capable and getting up to exciting things, though would probably fail at any attempts at friendship until she thinks to ask what parker likes doing and ends up learning to pick pockets that evening. The second those two are around buildings tall enough to rappel down she's in danger. (The second parker can slip away at night she's giving the church a go; father brown gives her a look the night before and quietly warns her about the dodgy roof.)

mrs mccarthy decides fairly quickly that hardison is a very nice young man (his nana instincts are online and functional) even if he spends far too much time on the wretched computer. She's determined to feed him and half the time he's determined to find ways to politely refuse, though the strawberry scones are actually pretty good.

she's appalled by eliot's job, and fiercely territorial of her kitchen when he offers help, even just cleaning up, but once she's seen him get in the way of trouble she's absolutely catching his arm and half hiding behind him in any crisis real or perceived. (She still doesn't approve of him.)

lady felicia sees hardison and eliot as two very different kinds of novelties and does some talking to hardison about tech (mostly listening and marveling) and some quietly ogling both of them, and especially eliot once she's seen him fighting. (Eliot unfortunately turned on his charm when he realised she sort of expected it. She doesn't get to chat with charming southern gents all that often - it's very shallow, and she's not serious about it.)

thank goodness bunty's too young for eliot so I don't have to go there. He has to tuck her out of sight in a barn at some point when trouble's headed their way; when the mess is almost cleaned up and she's grabbed a rifle from somewhere to tell the the remaining goon to clear off, with every appearance of competence, eliot takes it from her and disarms it with a smear of blood under his nose and a slightly betrayed expression.

hardison and sid get along, aside from a little initial insecurity on the parker front, and get to bitch a bit about flambeau, who hardison mistrusts from the start.

flambeau... he admires parker, from a distance - professionally and not very effusively - but after he watches her work for a while he seems to realise who she was trained by, and tells her as much. He says he was too, for a very short time, and it's unclear if he'd gain anything from making it up. Says that he and archie had a difference of opinion - and has a way of saying it that implies there might have been fire involved.

[quill-n]

hi I'm still catching up on campaign 3 and I just got to That Ashton moment in episode 77, I'm not ok !!!

[leavemeslowly]

today I was so lonely I forgot I existed

[vasito-de-leche]

HOORAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! you're the only blog that writes a lot for FMN. the lack of fics of him is outstanding??

OH I THOUGHT PEOPLE WOULD LOVE HIS SNAKE ASS HERE ON TUMBLR? FMN literally screams tumblr sexyman to me LMFAO. at least there's a few other fics in AO3 o7

[woo-kyung]

Kind of fascinating how both naive and self aware Minho is. Even before he came to Wookyung, he’s already (should be) quite aware of what Wookyung wanted from him (considering Wookyung already raped him once before). He came anyway despite the obvious danger of what would happen to him.

Throughout the course of their relationship, he’s distinctly aware of Wookyung manipulating him. He also understood that Wookyung was romanticizing their relationship, even when Wookyung himself was probably not aware of doing so. He could have maybe benefited from it if he just played along to appease him, but his innocence[?] made him uncomfortable to even use Wookyung’s money to pay off his debts, nevermind playing along with their situationship. Instead, he even triggered Wookyung’s anger and violence multiple times because he couldn’t stop his mouth.

When he tried to call Wookyung, he was aware that he was desperate for human interaction because Wookyung isolated him from other people on purpose. He also thought that Wookyung would get pissed and probably beat him for hiding a phone. He still wanted to call Wookyung anyway. He was so lonely he wasn’t in his right mind. And he was also aware that he was so lonely he wasn’t in his right mind.

And of course, at the ending, Minho knows Wookyung is selfish, violent, and will probably keep raping him. He doesn’t even know why Wookyung likes him or is obsessed with him, he just knows that Wookyung probably only clings to him because Wookyung was mentally deprived. He still chose to stay with him. It drives me crazy because he’s not staying out of some romanticized ideal that Wookyung has changed, Wookyung truly loves him, and their past doesn’t matter, etc. He simply made a choice between being miserable and lonely, and he chose to be miserable. His lack of self preservation instincts and maladaptive coping mechanisms have entranced me.