#will they repeat or break the cycle. they don't know and i don't either

[catmask]

tbh when i hear some people talk about 'breaking cycles of abuse', it becomes clear pretty quickly who has come to understand that phrase to mean 'since i was a victim of abuse/neglect by my parents/caretaker/s i will do everything to be nothing like them' and that is all. its not a completely flawed way of thinking either - something that hurt you would very likely hurt someone else; through empathy we learn to understand not to hurt others the way we were hurt too.

but what 'breaking cycles' looks like is more complicated than just not being your parents/caretakers - it's about recognizing how the things that happened to you changed you and how you can heal so you don't hurt someone else in turn. the survival skills you learned in an unhealthy enviroment often translate to poor if not unhealthy interpersonal skills in an enviroment where things ARE safe.

its a difficult pill to swallow for a lot of survivors of abuse (trust me, i know) because we have a tendency to simply want our pain to be recognized. by painting yourself as "absolutely nothing like my abuser" you can abstain from recognizing your own harmful tendencies and live comfortably in the role of victim hood for the rest of your life. it can be tempting to do this especially when so many people will do their best to deny what you experienced - almost like leaning into a stuck door that just won't budge.

the problem with this is if you never recognize that being mistreated made it so you LACK a lot of what other people learned from a loving enviroment, you can hurt people pretty badly even when doing your best just not to replicate what your parents/caretakers got wrong.

this also hurts for victims because, when it comes down to it - it's not FAIR. you were hurt for no reason, and most of us will never hear an apology or even admittance from the person who did it - so why do YOU have to change? why do YOU, the person hurt unjustly, have to put in the work?

and i mean. that's what breaking a cycle is. it means pushing against what's fair and comfortable deliberately so that you can stop something that's been repeating. it's work. its not just recognition of pain, it's the purposeful healing and treatment of it. but thats scary, and it's not fun, so a lot of people fall right back into it. its a lot easier said than done.

[jifloulette]

just with you around, i'll do it . . .

the things blue lock men will and try to do whenever the two of you are the only ones around !

who . . ? i. rin, n. seishiro, y. kenyu heads up . . ! rin's one feels a bit suggestive but i swear it's all romantic, established relationship, just fluff *does a cartwheel* (may be a two part typa shit i dunno)

જ ｡˚ itoshi rin absolutely loves peppering your face with kisses (but will he ever admit it? nope)

it's what he yearns for after an intense and long day of passing and shooting. rin may be tired after all that vigorous, tiring training but he will always have enough energy stored just for this. he'll never ever get too tired just to make sure you know how much he loves you!

he doesn't even know how he got into the idea of just having to smother your oh so beautiful face with kisses! but he can't help it because he literally found out how clingy and touch starved he gets the second you introduced him to this profound feeling. he just needs it every single day, it almost becomes something he looks forward to the second he wakes up. it relieves rin when he knows that you enjoy him peppering your face up, you won't see it on his face externally but inside? he's basically doing backflips and summersaults when you squeal to his proposal! this sweet activity becomes a routine for the two of you. rin make sures that his schedule is free for the rest of the night while you do the same. you make sure to bring snacks too! it's mostly your favorites but he doesn't really mind because he'd grown to enjoy munching on them with you as well. then, rin would put on music that two of you both like in the background. the two of you would snuggle up with each other comfortably on either the couch or bed, excited for your boyfriend to start smothering your face up with pecks all over your beaming face. you swear you could see hearts in rin's eyes the second he kisses you, though you could never tease that to him about him, he'll just probably get flustered and get too shy to continue. The first spot on your face rin kisses would be your lips, he says it's the most appropriate part to kiss first but really, all he wants is to taste your sweet, strawberry lipgloss on his own lips. then, he'd go all the way up to your forehead, only initiating it when you break the first kiss. rin wants what's best for you, he wants to make you feel like you're the only one for him even if it doesn't really look like it. when he kisses your forehead, he holds you close to him, needing for you to feel as close as he does. then, rin kisses the spot next to your eyes, the one close to your temples. he really only does it just to see the glimmer in your eyes, he adores seeing you so lovestruck. rin follows it up with a peck on your cheek, nose, and jaw. then once all those three are done, the cycle repeats, kiss on the lips -> forehead -> beside your eye -> cheeks -> nose -> jaw! usually, rin stays quiet during these tender moments. you could see in his eyes how focused he is in just making sure you feel so loved and cared for! rin wasn't the verbal lover, you couldn't always hear him say he loves you but his actions will say otherwise. you don't always ask for reassurance and affirmations for him because he'll do it in his own way! either by helping you pick clothes to wear on a date, giving you the bigger half of his snacks, and his personal favorite, this, smooching you all up with his kisses! in the rare moments he does say something in this routine, he would say one of the most endearing arrangement of words. full of words even you didn't understand! but when you ask him to speak up, rin's already shutting you up with another kiss on the lips!

rin really is in love with you a lot, he wouldn't trade moments like this with the one person he adores and cherishes most for the world. oh, his assistant just chatted him? who careeess, all he's focused on right now is you and only you.

જ ｡˚ nagi seishiro will always wake up early before you just to try and cook you breakfast (it's always a 50/50 chance of having burnt pancakes though)

nagi's never felt like this to anyone to be honest, he always thought it was a hassle to wake up so so early, especially in the weekends! but for you? he's somehow trying his best to wake up before you. he treats it as a challenge, a race of some sort. he wants to try and cook you some breakfast just so he could see your smile beam up and your eyes lighten when he brings the tray inside your shared bedroom. the first time he did it, he really just woke himself up due to hunger. normally he'd go back to sleep, snuggle himself up close to you buuut this time was different. he was craving pancakes! nagi got the motivation because he wanted to try something different for once. sooo, he got up and drank some water from the bedside table before going to the kitchen. he just went through the pantry for some boxed pancake mix before following the instructions on the box, getting a pan and cooking it. he was honestly proud of himself, he had managed to cook 6 pancakes, only having one of them burnt! so he ate two of them because he wanted you to get most of it, he plated your pancakes as pretty as he could. stacking them up, getting frozen blueberries and put them on it, drizzled some syrup and before he knew it, it was already what, 7 am?? he had just finished in time because the second he went inside your shared bedroom, you were grabbing your glasses. it took a few seconds before you could see the surprising sight in front of you. because firstly, the nagi seishiro waking up before you?! second, the nagi seishiro cooked you breakfast for the first time?! it was a sight to see really, usually you would be the one to cook breakfast for the two of you. nagi never really minded that, the same went for you. i mean, having to wake your boyfriend up with a kiss to tell him breakfast was ready is one of the things you genuinely loved doing every now and then. you give nagi a quick peck on the cheek as your way of giving thanks before he asks you if he could go to sleep again. you agreed of course! your big baby of a boyfriend already did so much this morning, you ate your pancakes in silence while admiring the scene of nagi already fast asleep beside you.

the second time nagi did this, it was totally on purpose! you had told him that you loved his pancakes so that became his entire motivation to start this in the first place! he couldn't stop waking up at night, he really wanted to make you breakfast in bed. it was the fifth time he woke up that early morning when he finally got up to cook breakfast. all was going well.. until he had fallen asleep for a quick 10 minutes on the counter.. he hadn't even noticed the burning happening when he heard the fire alarm go off! he was flabbergasted, he really wanted to make these pancakes as amazing as the last ones. so he just threw the burnt one away, and plated your pancakes the same as before. except, it looked rushed, i mean he did just burn the last one and made a huge mess so i guess it was bound to happen? unfortunately for nagi, you had woken up due to both the fire alarm and the smell of something burning! your boyfriend saw you and quickly pushed you back to the bedroom, picking you up bridal style before telling you to wait for him. you had kind of figure him out by now, so when nagi went inside the room, you were already so cheery! giving him another quick peck on the cheek and eating the food immediately. you thought he would've asked if he could go back to sleep but no, he just kneeled in front of you and stuck his tongue out like a dog. pointing to his mouth, clearly wanting some of the pancakes he made. and as the good partner you are, you obviously gave him some. nagi nodded as a way to give thanks as you gave him a few pats on his head. now recently, you had been seeing a looot more boxed pancake mix in the pantry, knowing your boyfriend, you were really going to look forward to when he was going to make breakfast for you again! you thought he was going to only do it on the weekends? nahh, he's doing it every day he gets!!

this was a routine that you and nagi were always going to be looking forward to, not just to be able to taste his pancakes but to spend time with him. besides, he doesn't really care if it ruins his "sleep schedule", all he wants is to see you smile and make you spoon feed him!

જ ｡˚ yukimiya kenyu always sings the two of you to sleep every night (don't tell him how much you love because he'll melt)

kenyu has a lot of talents and passions, soccer and modeling being two of the ones he was really proud of. but unbeknownst, singing was the third on the list! he never really knew when he started to love singing, it just happened. he did know that it all started with you on a random tuesday night. you had randomly asked him to sing you to slumberland. it was rather an odd request but he did it nonetheless, you were the one asking after all, no way was he going to deny something you wanted. he questioned you on what song he should sing, you thought for a few seconds and answered, kenyu should sing "i think they call this love" his eyes lit up, he loved that song! he dedicated that song to you on his first listen, it was his top song on wrapped too (he has a playlist heavily dedicated to you because ugh he is so head over heels for you.) he zoned out for a bit, he was nervous..? he was scared to what you were going to think of his singing voice. he felt tense, you felt it as well. you reminded him that it's alright if he doesn't want to do it, you wouldn't mind it. but suddenly he started singing

♫ all i dream of is your eyes, all i long for is your touchand darling, something tells me that's enough ♫

when you said you were surprised was an understatement, you were beyond shocked because of your boyfriend's amazing singing voice! no words could describe how amazing he sounded, it was ineffable. the first lyric of the chorus kenyu sang already made you feel so sleepy, how dare he hide this amazing talent of his from his s/o?! but you were too astonished to say anything, the way his voice hit your ears so tenderly, so full of love, it was enough for you to just lay on his chest quietly, listening to the angel-like voice of your boyfriend. you were trying your best to battle the sudden closing of your eyelids, you wanted to listen to kenyu sing more. it was so perfect, "how could someone be so perfect?" was the only thing in your mind during this moment. you could tell that kenyu genuinely had fun singing, it was in his tone and the way he was caressing your hair while he was doing so. you were rubbing circles with your thumb on his other hand, implying that you were enjoying his singing.

♫ you can say that I'm a fool and i don't know very much but i think they call this love ♫

it was when kenyu sang this part of the song that you were snuggling up closer to him, a sign that to your boyfriend that you were about close your eyes and dream your way to tomorrow's sunrise. though you were about to fall asleep, he never stopped singing. he was proud of himself that he had managed to make doze off with his voice! he never really thought that he had a good singing voice, he had sung before, but it was when he was younger; in his school choirs, talent shows in middle school, and in front of his parents. he continued to sing himself to sleep, until every ounce of energy he had in his body was gone. it was right before the second chorus of the song that he took off his glasses, closed the lamp, and gave you a sweet goodnight kiss that kenyu too snoozed away. the following night, you once again asked if he could sing you to sleep again. it didn't take much asking though because he already said yes even before you could ask the full question. this time, you wanted him to sing keshi's "understand", another song you knew he loved. his eyes lit up once again, this time with a beaming smile plastered on his gorgeous face. he sang with his honey-like voice again, making you sleep a few minutes after to which he soon followed as well. this became a part of your shared night routine with each other! wearing matching pj's -> brushing your teeth -> doing each other's skincare -> cuddling with each other on bed -> kenyu singing you to sleep. the two of you even made a playlist on spotify on what song he should lull you with each night, it consisted of laufey, wave to earth, keshi, and much much more.

now because of you, he finally grows to love singing. hell, he could even sing as a career too! though he might never singing in front of a huge crowd, not even in front of his own parents, he will only sing in front and for you because kenyu knows you love it, and it makes him love it too! this side of him is only for you to see and for you to hear

note ; this was a request!! this was rotting in my drafts for a while so argh i needed to post it before i get so busy with school </3

©🇯​​🇮​​🇫​​🇱​​🇴​​🇺​​🇱​​🇪​​🇹​​🇹​​🇪​, do not steal, translate, or repost any of my writings anywhere else.

[johanna-swann]

I actually have sooo many issues with 911 lately that haven't even got much to do with any ships.

Like. They wrote out almost all of the side characters. Chris is gone, Linda and Sue are gone, Athena's kids are gone (even though Harry just moved in with her and Bobby again? Seriously, where is Harry?), Ravi is gone, Carla is gone. I know the GA maybe don't care that much, casual viewers might not even have noticed that this many characters have just vanished from the show, but in my opinion this is one of the things that give a show running as long as 911 life. Having a big cast is a good thing. Otherwise things are going to get very monotonous very soon.

Actually, that's my second point. They keep repeating storylines! Every season Hen and Karen have to fight a custody battle over one of their kids.

Every season Eddie ends up realising he has a lot of repressed trauma and issues which keep him from leading a healthy happy and free life.

Every season Bathena realise that they have communication issues and they fight about it, but then something traumatic happens and they forgive each other without ever really talking things out.

Every season we are reminded that Maddie's most prominent character trait is "traumatised", the writers just alternatingly bring up Doug again and sometimes the ppd arc.

Every season we see Buck being somewhat restless, looking and searching for something that will bring him true happiness and cycling through love interests that never stick around and each time when you think "oh, there it is, he's getting somewhere now" the writers go "BEEEP! WRONG!" and we start all over again. [This is not just about recent events aka Tommy, the break-up and Buck potentially going back to his 1.0 ways, this also happened in season 6 when he had his "it doesn't matter what other people see in me, I'm enough" revelation only to suddenly be like "omg, Natalia just sees me".]

And Chimney- he had his moment last season with the wedding episode, Kenneth Choi really ate that episode up, but his most prominent character trait is "Maddie's supportive husband". There's really not that much going on with him otherwise.

Another point I briefly touched upon above is consistency. Like Harry moving back in with Athena and Bobby and then just vanishing. Or Gerrard being more like a slightly unfriendly grandpa than an actual antagonist in season 8 when he was still spouting slurs in season 7.

And the timeline! We talked about this before ("last March", Mara's fostering to adoption timeline, Tommy tranferring to harbour "5 years ago"), but the newest "Tommy was actually Abby's Tommy" twist just adds to that. Tommy was with Abby for over 2 years. They were engaged. This was at a time when he was still at the 118. Tommy dated Abby presumably because he was in denial or maybe because he was hiding. In either case, wouldn't his team at least have heard about his fiancée, Abby the dispatcher? Wouldn't that have rung a bell when Buck eventually brought her around only a year or two later? Tommy did talk about his private life at least a little at work, even under Gerrard. It just doesn't make sense. (Not to mention this seems wildly out of character for Tommy who around the same time also said about himself "being single is easier".)

Then there's the pacing. This was a huge issue in season 7. They jumped from one personal soap opera drama to the next without taking any breathers, had almost no procedural in their drama the whole season, still somehow decided to spend one third of the entire season just on the opening disaster and also squeezed in a "Bobby begins for the third time now" episode. But okay, it was a shortened season, there were strikes, they switched networks, they were under a lot of pressure - I'll cut them some slack. At least they set up a bunch of interesting stuff for the following season.

But we're in season 8 now. The renewal was announced very early, they had a lot of time to plan this time. Also they have almost double the episodes they had last season, there's really no need to rush any of the major plots. I am done cutting them slack.

They wanna do a 3 part opening disaster again? Okay fine, you have the time now. I feel like they could've easily done it in 2 episodes (especially 8x02 felt a little "eh"), but okay. Better than the breakneck speed you were going at befo- Oh, what's that? 8x04 flying in with a steel chair. You resolved 70% percent of the plots you set up last season in one single episode with no build up, no emotional pay off and no lasting consequences? And you also squeezed in multiple unrelated calls at the same time? Damn, okay then. Good-bye potentially interesting storylines. Fuck me for being invested I guess. I thought there would at least maybe be some follow up in 8x05, but no.

Now that Halloween episode wasn't bad, it was actually the best episode of this season imo, but instead of following up on previously established conflicts and developments they just hit us with new Wilson family trauma and conflict that was also immediately fixed again. And now 8x06 has speedrun and dumped another storyline that had potential to go to deeper and interesting places. Not gonna talk too much about that though because this post is about the show as a whole, not ships.

And I am not yet convinced that there will be much more to come on the only thing that's left from last season: Eddie's deep dive into his trauma and repression. It's totally possible at this point that being told "you deserve nice things" by a random stranger actually solved all of his problems, it would be very in tone with 911's new style.

What are they even gonna do with the rest of this season? Revisiting the Hotshots set sounds fun, but ultimately inconsequential. You know what's great about a regular old procedural drama with ~20 episodes per season that comes on weekly? You have time. You can let the viewers sit with their emotions and thoughts for a week and keep them engaged by stretching things out a little.

But why should I bother getting emotionally invested in problems the characters are gonna solve within the same episode anyway? Or rather, even if I wanted to, how am I supposed to care if you don't give me the time to develop any feelings about anything that's happening? "Henren lost in court and are now completely forbidden from seeing Mara at all!" Damn, that must be so har- "JUST KIDDING! Ortiz is exposed and everything is perfect again now." Oh. Okay then, I guess.

Bottom line: The characters are all stuck in their own hamster wheels, they keep cutting side characters that could bring a breeze of fresh air (I'm honestly surprised they even kept Josh until now), they rush through all the storylines a such a ridiculous speed that I don't even have time to feel any sort of way about it, they don't even try to keep a consistency or sensible timeline going and they seem to strongly prioritise random funny bits that'll entertain the very casual viewers right now in this moment (tiger call, Billy Boils, Bee-nado, the 'Stache tm, "wait, it's the same Abby?", Gerrard being a fangirl at heart) instead of playing the long game and catering to people who actually pay a little attention to the show.

[On that last remark: I'm not talking about hardcore fans who analyse every single frame here, I mean casual fans who've watched the show on and off again for a while and who may not be involved in fandom but genuinely care about the show.]

I mean. What am I even still doing here? The show is treading water and I end up disappointed more often than not. I'm still holding out a little hope that they actually will do something interesting with Eddie and his sea-monkeys, but I wouldn't be surprised if they didn't.

[iamespecter]

"The Visit" - Little Nightmares Short Comic

Anyways, I love batshit insane, bastard Thin Man. It's my favorite interpretation of him, and is actually what I believe him to be as in Little Nightmares 2. Let me explain.

At first, I liked the interpretation of the Thin Man wanting to save himself from repeating the same mistakes, only to be trapped in a time loop. This paradox is cool, but that's too hopeful for a game like Little Nightmares.

The world of LN is twisted, and cruel. Innocents turned guilty. Victims becoming abusers. Regular people becoming monsters. Children becoming Adults. And I think... The Thin Man is no exception to this rule. I think, he is most definitely a bastardized version of Mono.

A twisted view into what kind of monster Mono becomes, if he doesn't let go of his grievances; which, spoiler alert--he doesn't.

That older, more selfish version of the little paperbag boy who becomes so obsessed after his betrayal, that he was willing to kill his younger self for even trying to take his "friend" away from him. Similar to The Lady who hungers like her Guests', I think he is under the influence of the transmission's broadcasts like his own Viewers as well, in order to distract himself from the betrayal that happened to him.

After all, how do you sit in a chair for so long? The answer is by being distracted and preoccupied, of course. I think he doesn't allow himself to think about it entirely, because it'd make him spiral badly.

And when Mono finally opens the door to his room, that distraction is interrupted.

And while yes, I believe that he isn't even known to be real by the residents of the Pale City, I think he still influences them somewhat via the Transmission, and he is the blueprint on what makes every adult so monstrous and so one-track minded. His influence is just THAT strong.

Besides, he is the big bad of LN 2. You should feel sorry for the circumstances that lead him to why he chooses to remain in his seat, but not for the atrocities he commits because he's an adult that's purely powered by his instincts: which is to retrieve his long lost companion at all costs. Which, he doesn't even succeed at, seeing as to how he keeps snagging the wrong kid every damn cycle.

It's this neglectful nature that spurs on the generational abuse, and in turn, keeps the cycle going. Getting physical isn't the reason abuse exists, it's always been neglect; Physical only comes next either on it's own, or an after effect of neglect. Which is also why I've began to dislike the idea that The Thin Man has good intentions, the moment he is "set free" from his prison.

You can't expect a person to stay sane and clean after spending a lifetime in the belly of a huge beast that's constantly consuming him. And that, I think, is the case of The Thin Man; He is no longer the sweet little boy who just wants to keep his friend safe as much as possible, these intentions of his have been twisted to the utmost extent that he becomes obsessed. Possessive. Isolating.

Keeping his friend safe is no longer the priority, it's just keeping his friend by his side for as long as he can, whether she wants to or not.

As for the relevance of the topic to the comic? This comic is actually just a concept scenario of "What if, he knows who his friend really is, and knows where she lives". But I don't think The Thin Man canonically--nor fully-- is aware of the fact that The Lady might actually be the very person who he's looking for.

He is a paradox caused by his own actions, and his inability to break free from this toxic mindset. After all, the adults of LN are all monsters in their own way. And the most normal looking ones? They're typically the most depraved.

Well, that escalated quickly. Sorry for low quality ✌️

[sheepispink]

Waking up (repost)

part 6 of supersoldier!reader x tf141/ghost(ghost is main culprit but they’re all there.) SORRY FOR THE RETAG THE POST GOT MESSED UP SO I REPOSTED IT

cw: mention of a seizure, mention of foaming at the mouth, probably some medical inaccuracies, military inaccuracies too, gender neutral reader

a/n: this series is sfw nor is there any romantic relations mentioned.

glossary: old codger- an old man who doesnt know what he's talking about or talks crazy

PREV NEXT part one Series Masterlist

———

The strength is gone, your pulse is faint and your brain has shut off the map of trains running through your head on a daily basis, everything silent. Except one thing— your memories. The last of your energy is used on tormenting you, day and night or night and day; you don't know what day it is, don't know what’s even happening or if you really are even still alive right now. You’re not even sure when the last dream ended or how long it lasted, all you know is that it’s like a cycle, repeating the gunshot, the whimper of the fox, faint cries of the men you’ve killed, Ghost’s yells, Price’s stern eyes boring into you, Gaz and Soap’s shared laughter and always, always the squeak of the operating table and the rustle of scrubs as the nurse and doctor approach.

It’s torment, repeating over and over with no means of end in the slightest. Whilst before you at least had the temporary relief like the missions with Ghost or even the small conversations with Soap when he made you pay full attention to him, there was nothing now. It feels like months inside of your head even before you got trapped in this cycle, experiencing turmoil even when you were actually awake and living. But this was like everything had crossed the line, the conditions had worsened to the point of no return and now you could barely think in between each flashback. There was no trying to distract yourself when you were headfirst against the enemy; no more preparation as you fight and fight and fight, the battle never ending as you continue to clash but never fully meet the other.

You don't know if you’re breathing, or if your body really is your own right now, the turmoil doesn’t feel real and that’s probably because it isn't. This is just in your head— all a figment of your imagination.

Was any of this real though?

There’s no feeling in your fingers, nor your feet, and weirdly enough you don't really feel any physical pain this time. Not even when the scalpel breaches your skin.

The question returns again. Is this real? Are you real?

Your thoughts are dwindling out.

Is this real?

Are you real?

——————-

Again. You wake in the infirmary. Gaz will come through the doors, comfort you when you panic. Soap will take over— Ghost will yell.

You can't sit up this time. There’s binds around your wrists, around your ankles too. Everything is shrouded in silence, a sterile smell attacking your nose like a threat.

It’s black again now.

——————-

There’s muffled voices, like the day you got shot. Your arm still throbs sometimes, at least it used to, when you were really a person. 

It sounds like Price, and you’re sick of his voice. Sounds like Gaz too— that’s good. You think maybe, if you were born a different person, you’d consider him a big brother. Maybe— you don't really know much about what those are, but you’ve heard they’re good people. If you had one, you probably would’ve been safer.

—————-

Flowers. It’s a momentary image that breaks the usual cycle of nightmares— if you even call it that anymore. It’s lavender to be exact. It smells good— somehow you can manage to process that even if you still can't feel it. Your fox used to smell like lavender, when that intern first gave it to you. You’ve never smelt it since it faded off the plush, but you’d never forget it either. 

It smells really good.

———

——-

Soap sits before your small bed in the spare room. Originally you were in the infirmary for the sake of fixing up the bad wound on your back. Ghost hadn’t told him all the details, but there wasn't much to ask when he had rushed in with you seizing in his arms and frothing at the mouth. You had forgotten to take one of your monthly medications— according to the calendar in your room you marked completely different dates despite having a reminder right there. It wasn't a serious seizure despite how it sounded but everything to do with you was uncertain, due to the modifications made.

It almost makes him upset, if he’s being completely honest. He spoke with Price about it once, when they had a mission together and they waited overnight in a safehouse. “They’ll never escape the military, will they?” His Captain has shook his head, confirming what Soap already knew to be true but didn't want to actually believe. “If they leave they’ll only die. Too unstable.. thus too reliant on others. Without a handler they’d never regulate themselves properly, even antibiotics can clash with the serum—it could make them severely ill.”

Johnny could get by the usual criminals who deserved a bad beating, or even an innocent family who didn't deserve their end. But this was more— you never really got peace, still living in the torturous cycle until the military deemed you were ‘ready’ to die. It was a fate worse than death, in his opinion. A time ago,he had hoped that he and Gaz could make a difference for you, but he’s not so sure anymore.

———-

Cold air tingled your arms, making the hairs rise and slowly guide you through the barrage of thoughts and memories. You hadn’t blinked once this entire time, but it was too much now, all of these faces and horrors returning. It felt cowardly, almost as if you were giving up everything you knew but you couldn't handle it– seeing all of it again, experiencing it and reliving the trauma. Ghost, he stands before you, but he doesn't speak, his mask staring back at you like a deadly reminder. Your throat bobs nervously, hearing the yell of his command word echo around you. That decides your every action, in and out of battle.

This time it makes you flinch so hard your eyes squeeze shut, terrified more of your lack of freedom than any of the horrors you’ve witnessed since your miserable birth.

—-------------

“Why’s it beepin so loud?! Didn’t they say their heart rate barely ever changes?” Soap shouts, having been extremely frustrated with the lack of any progress regarding your state all week. Price is on a bloody mission, so only him and Gaz are here to handle you this time. It’s been two weeks since you were brought in here, and still there’s not been a single sign of you waking up– only the eerily steady pulse letting them know you’re okay.

“Sir–we’re trying, please, let us do our work.” 

“Get off of them.” A cold voice cuts through the room, the heart rate monitor beeping loudly still. 

“But sir– the heart is-”

“I’m their handler. Get off of them, now.” Ghost wants to slap their prying fingers away from you, just like he did to the stupid scientist who had the audacity to try and ask him to let him take over your care. The explanation resonated in the silence, as well as the sharp glare the fool received before Ghost had promptly stormed off that day. “Johnny, what’s going on?”

“Their heart rate keeps wavering, Lt.” Soap explains, worried as he walks over to you, still as stone yet your heart is lurching in your chest. “They told Gaz that their heart rate has been altered to stay steady, or even more so than usual.”

“That’s..” He had read the files; it was true that they had attempted to alter how your heart worked and had temporarily made it so that it wouldn’t raise too high and cause issues especially in stressful situations where seconds counted. However, this past week he’s been looking into anything related to you in the slightest. Every file that has scattered his desk has your name on it, every action links back to figuring out more and every night he dreams of the same scene.  

“It was true once, yes, only for a mere week though. Now it’s merely a placebo effect to keep them calm enough when things get messy.” He grunts, and Soap just blinks at him, not expecting that answer in the slightest. Really? All that for it to just be a placebo effect? It is true that you’ve never been in a serious condition when you’re unconscious, so it’s clear this whole time your heart rate has never breached the worry point. 

“Right, so what the hell are we gonna do?”

Ghost grunts in response, almost jealous of how easily Soap worries over you, like he’s been the one taking care of you since you first entered this base. Though it feels more like a sickening guilt for not being the person he should’ve been. “Just..” He sighs, pulling up the chair that Price usually occupies and slumping into it. “Hold their hand. It’s a nightmare, it’ll pass.”

So he does, his hand gently intertwining with your limp one before rubbing your palm, trailing up to your elbow and then back again. It seemed to be too severe to be a mere nightmare–- the alarms beeping loudly like sirens—and yet somehow your hand twitched for the first time before your heart rate began to lower. Soap lets out a long breath , taking a seat on the edge of your bed, rubbing the back of your hand over and over to soothe the fears you were experiencing.  “The doctors would’ve stuck another damn needle in them.” Ghost scoffs, his hands clasped between his knees as his gaze momentarily watches the small rise and fall of your chest.

“How did you know?”

That shouldn't even be a question–Ghost should know every little detail about you down to how you like to tie your shoelaces, not the ignorance he’s been displaying. It fills him with great shame; you were entrusted to him, and he had failed you. “In their files.” He grunts, his gaze fixed on the floor now. You wouldn't even want him to be here right now, but it’s the least he can do and also the most he’s ever done for you. 

“Ghost..” Soap begins, looking directly at the Lieutenant. As much as he wants to yell at him for being a complete blockhead, he can't deny that many things have never been in your favour. There’s not many who would’ve given you the chance in life you deserved, and in another life you probably even consider it amazing the Lieutenant even changed his ways. The military wasn't known for its kindness. “Price could’ve done better too; don't take all the blame. Ye know, the only thing that matters is how we fix it. It’s not like you didn't try.”

He had wanted to cut him off, yell about how wrong he was but lord, he wasn’t incompetent enough to not be able to handle a conversation without blowing up. Not like his father. “My ‘trying’ was closer to using ketchup to get a stain out the carpet.” The analogy at least gets a small huff out of Soap, but as much as he wants to laugh too he knows he can't. He doesn't deserve to; you don't deserve to hear that. “If they had that seizure alone.. If they had forgotten their pills for a few days longer.. They’d be hospitalized, Johnny. I did that to them.” His thumbs press against his brows as he lets out a sharp breath, trying to come to the reality of it without wanting to tear open his chest. “I could’ve prevented so much of it. If only I had read those stupid files.”

Johnny sighs, looking down at your arms that have goosebumps littering them– maybe he should shut the window.

—-------

You’ve been shrouded in darkness since you flinched, and you’re afraid to open your eyes. But everything has been so serene this time, in fact you feel awfully tired, the warm kind like you’re in front of a campfire. At least, that’s what you’ve read in books–how fuzzy feelings are usually described.

Maybe you’ll do it this time, brave the darkness rather than be ordered to. Though maybe it’s only because you cannot fathom anything worse than what you’ve experienced than perhaps death itself.

—-----

It’s a Friday night and they don't dare to leave your side in the free time they get. Price is still out, thankfully Gaz has returned though. Right now he’s catching up on some well needed rest, jet lagged to the maximum. Soap’s hand always rests on yours now, and he’s tried to convince Ghost many times to do the same. This time they’ve got a game of chess going, although it’s just on Soap’s phone– his idea too of course. According to him, you might do better with some noise than the usual silence held in this room. Ghost had caved pretty quickly, staring in utter confusion as Soap knocked off yet another one of his pieces.

“Oi– you cannot make that move, you’re lying.”

“Yer just a sore loser, Lt. Admit it, I'm just too good.” His smile grows wide, looking at the lack of possible moves left especially since he had played so well. Ghost finally moves, though not without muttering about there being ‘no point anymore’, and he’s about to play his own move when his hand feels weird. Like.. ticklish? Soap just momentarily glances only to see that your fingers were touching his hand, properly. Grazing gently, your pinky eventually curls around his own. The monitor beeps a little louder, and your pulse seems to rise a little higher. Ghost notices Soap’s distraction, glancing over to see the tiniest hitch in breath and squeeze of your eyelids. 

The both of them stay deadly silent, only the soft beeping as your eyes squint open, a few blinks clearing the blur clouding your vision. If you had noticed them by now, you must be ignoring it because you kind of just stare at the ceiling for a few moments before settling on Soap’s hand holding your own. “Kid..? You feeling okay?” Lord, he doesnt know why he even asked that; it was pretty damn obvious you haven't been okay and he can already see Ghost wanting to facepalm. 

A small hum is heard from you, a little cracked, but it’s a response. “Yeah.”

“Bet ye starving, ay?” Soap rubs your hand a little more, though still concerned about your small responses. “I’ll get ya some.” He’s about to slide off when Ghost stops him. 

“No. I’ll go.”

He stands, heading towards the door— he’s not stupid, he saw how you flinched at his voice breaking out. He has to do it right this time— he has to. 

——-

Soap doesn’t let you try to eat yourself, instead scooping up spoonfuls as he sits beside you on the small bed. You’re still hooked up with an iv drip, despite doing a lot better than the first time you were in the infirmary, and you don't attempt to argue with Soap this time. Infact, you’re just really, really quiet. “Drink some water too, kay?” He lifts the bottle up to your mouth, making sure you drink a good amount. Even though you just came out of a coma, you look really, really tired. Your eyes are dull, even more than the usual, and your eyelids hang low, just aimlessly staring at the soft blankets covering you. There’s no scratchy patient dress now, nor paper thin sheets that only serve to keep you cold. 

Before this happened, you were a lot more responsive, even attentive, when he talked with you. Him and Gaz would come by some evenings, when all of your tough work was over, and just tell you about absolutely anything and everything. Even with the reputation that precedes you, the excitement on your face was endearing—especially after everything they’ve witnessed you go through. It was a relief that you were actively asking questions, and curious about what else they did.

Now you stayed silent, barely even glancing twice his way as you just followed whatever he decided you needed. Eventually he puts the spoon down, his teeth chewing at his lip as he glances up at Ghost. He’s doing his best not to look at you either, but it’s clear this has to be resolved. And it’s now or never.

Soap slides off the bed, leaving an abundance of space beside you, and walks over to nudge Ghost. “C’mon, you gotta talk to ‘em.”

“Johnny—I’ll only make it worse.”

“Don’t care Lt. Look at ‘em- do ya really think they’ll just get better like this? You said it yourself, things gotta change. Yer gonna have to talk with them properly; they dont have a handler for nothin’.” He pats Ghost’s shoulder firmly, before heading for the door and leaving with a soft click.

Silence fills the space between you two after he leaves, feeling like he’s on a mountain whilst you’re struggling in the mere dirt— back to your square one. “No doctors are allowed in here without one of us here.” He firmly states, not bothering to look at you when he knows that all he’ll see is misery laying in your eyes. “You marked the wrong date for your pills and you had a seizure. So expect to be staying in this room for another month, and you won't have any training or missions either.”

That elicits a response from you, a very obvious one because that’s something you didnt expect in the slightest. “No missions—“

“No. Not like that.” He cuts you off firmly, but not harshly, sighing before he looks up at you finally, only wearing the black balaclava today. “You’re staying right here, in this taskforce. End of story. But you’re also getting the rest your body needs.”

Your eyes narrow, you don't want rest, damnit. Even now after knowing that they definitely wont send you back— if you’re trusting them that is—- you cant physically handle a second of rest any longer. You need movement, stimulation, something to interfere with the silence in your head that eats away at your sanity like a parasite. 

He doesnt need to ask you to notice your hesitation though, his own eyes narrowing. “You have nightmares, dont you? We noticed in your sleep.” Silence rings out this time, not a response, only you staring at your hands absentmindedly, the warmth that had ripped you out of it. “Johnny held your hand. It helps, doesnt it? I.. read your files, it said that there was an intern nurse who’d do the same to you. They recommended it in bad situations.” His voice grows softer by the second, unable to keep his harsh edge after everything he now knows. The suffering, the pain, the endless cycle of torture.

Still, there’s no answer, only sheer silence from you. “Alright, i get it. But just because you’re a super soldier.. dont think you dont need it. I need you in top form, everyone needs you in top form. That means even if a pat on the back from him helps, you do it, okay?” He didnt want to be so forward and demanding, changing into something you ‘had’ to do for the sake of the program. But he also knew you were less likely to actually listen unless he did— you ran on the fact that you were still worth something, still worthy of being a soldier. It was lies, you were obviously worthy either way, but he’d do anything to make you okay again.

You nod just slightly and he sighs, stepping up to walk towards the small table on the other side of the room. He returns with his hands clasped, before opening them to reveal the small fox plush you had ripped open during your panic. “Gaz stitched it up and stuffed it. He wasn't sure if you’d hate him for touching it, but he couldn't stand to see it so worn either.” You gently take it in your palms, the little plush the size of your hand and exactly the same as you remember it. Though you're disappointed when you bring it to your nose only for no scent to emanate.  “I’ll give him my thanks.”

—————————————

Gaz had passed out as soon as he had gotten home that evening, not even finding out that you had finally woken until lunch the next day. “They’re awake?! Have they said anything?” Ghost stabs at his food awkwardly, and if this was two weeks ago he wouldn’t have even bothered to answer, let alone give out any news about you anyway.

”No. They barely speak.” He states simply, though swallows sharply after, tension hanging in the air between Soap and him. The hope on Gaz’s face falls; he and Soap were only just figuring out the true nature of your being, of the creation you really were. To be honest, all of them had a little bit of hope that you’d just wake up better. You’d be relieved that Ghost had come to his senses, you’d be happy that they were all now treating you like you should’ve been treated— like a human— and all of this mess would just be solved. But that was nothing more than a stupid ideal, like seeing pigs fly. The more they learnt about you, the faster they figured out that nothing was as simple as a minor problem with how complicated you actually were.

 “Hasn’t even been twenty-four hours, we should jus’ let time tell.” Soap huffs out, not any more happier about this situation. He felt naive to even believe you had been getting better, and he couldn’t call himself any better than his own LT for not seeing the constant conflict in your head.

————————

Time did tell something, but it was definitely not what any of them were hoping for in the slightest. The days dragged on and still you remained silent, just observing and listening as they came and went. Occasionally they'll ask you questions, and you’d answer them but never anything more. No opinions, no reasoning unless asked and never a question back to them. In short, you were fine to talk, you just didn't hold the conversation. Ghost would’ve let out a sigh of relief if you were like this when you first met him, in fact he’d be so happy to get rid of your questions that he’d probably parade your obedience around the task force. But now everything was different, and he wouldn’t dare ask for your mindless obedience again, and yet he’s received it like some mocking gift, laughing in his face at his selfish actions. 

Everytime he looks at the bags beneath your eyes, all he sees is the human crumbling before him—such raw life emanating from you after months that he convinced himself that you’re nothing but a fabrication of a person.  Then to hear your plea, not for kindness and lenience–not even to let up his harsh tactics and the death he forces into your hands— just reassurance. You just wanted the safety of knowing a team wouldn’t leave you behind, and he couldn’t believe he hadn’t even convinced you of that. As the ranks grew, it grew increasingly harder to trust others; that was the truth in how it worked. But still even the Captain, who had experienced far more than Ghost would ever know, had trusted them, his task force. Ghost trusted you’d do what you were told, it was a known fact, but you couldn’t even trust them enough to know that they never leave you behind so easily.

It disgusts him really, when he looks in the mirror all he feels is pure shame. And it’s even worse when Soap looks at him like that, when Gaz’s face falls to a frown and Price shares a firm glance. He knows– he knows everything he had done to you was inexcusable and yet he still feels like he should feel it more. Every day he wishes he sported the marks of your anger, to even have a reminder of your pain on him, but no you couldn't even do that to him. In all your betrayal and distress, you hadn't even raised your hand once to harm him.

There was one thing you refused to talk about, just looking down or muttering that ‘It doesnt matter’ when the topic arose. Your nightmares. Every time one of them tried to hint at it, your fingers would flex uncomfortably and your gaze would flitter away, begging to escape and yet stuck sitting in that bed until they deemed you okay. Not to mention you were increasingly restless, not only from being bored out of your mind without your daily workout, but you tossed and turned more as each day passed. Everyday your face seems more worn, your eyes duller and losing the life you had struggled so hard to maintain. 

—------------

“Evening, kid.” It’s late now, almost eight pm and you’ve been in and out of naps for the entire day, though not without being shaken forcefully by yet another vision. “Captain.” You give him a nod, lowering your head in respect before falling silent once more–it hurts him slightly how you’ve stopped using his first name. However, the dinner that always comes with his visit never follows nor the pills that allow you to get at least three hours of sleep in. 

He notices the way your eyes flicker behind him, knowing that you’re exhausted and run down as it is, and just smirks. Sure, it’s true that denying the basic needs from someone who is clearly struggling with themself is probably a bit cruel, but it’s for your own good. He’d be stupid to underestimate you as well; you’d be able to keep up with your normal activities even without a week of food. So he’s not getting any more lenient with you, not even if the pitiful look on your face makes him want to drop everything and buy you every snack you’ve ever wanted. “Thought i told you to call me John? No dinner today, kid. Well unless..”

Your eyes narrow, obviously hungry or, at least, you’ve craving the burst of flavours Soap’s been introducing in all of your meals since you got shot.”Unless what?”

It’s the first time you’ve actively responded since you first woke up a week and a half ago, and the glint in his eye is enough to tell you that he’s glad. “Unless, you tell me about what happened last night. Properly.” He takes a seat at the edge of the mattress, your body language a lot more comfortable than the last time you were injured–they ensured that you wouldn’t be in those sterile rooms again or awake when doctors came by. “I won't sit around and let you do this to yourself, you know.”

“Ghost did.”

Price’s eyes narrow, not oblivious to how fast you had responded this time, as if the words were coming from your heart for once. He hates that you’re right too, since Ghost had confided in all of them the interaction you had, knowing it was only right that he didnt hide what he had done. This should never be about him anyway; it was about helping you. “Everyone knows you’re hurting. I know you’re acting–”

“I’m not acting.” You say blankly, just staring at him now and he blinks, not expecting you cut him off. Of course, you must’ve been, how else would none of this affect you—at least how would this not affect the blank look on your face? The effects were clear from your body’s reactions, but you never expressed it emotionally.

“So you’re tellin’ me that you don't care that you’re on the verge of sleep every waking second and you still can't get any?” That makes your eyebrows twitch just slightly, your eyes glancing at the window again, like you always do when the conversation turns anyway near this way. 

“Just..” He says slowly, reaching out to rub your leg over the thin blanket covering you– he makes a mental note to get you a thicker one. “Tell me,kid. Talk to me, please. I want to know, what pushed you into that state? I know it was Ghost but missions have never had that bad effects on you.” You’re still quiet and he takes his hat off, like he had done last time he tried to comfort you, placing it to the side whilst he pulled out a container of food from his bag. “Please.”

His tone makes your gut ache, your heart throb, and your brain hurt from the conflict inside of you. So you do, you tell him. From how you overheard them that day, and thought they’d send you back, when you decided to purposefully harm yourself so you couldn't fight properly but you just kept going, even to how you woke up on the floor in your room after blacking out post battle. It’s now or never, so you let it all spill now the band aid been ripped off, explaining how your mental state grew worse when they told you to recuperate, unable to distract yourself from the constant distress until you spiralled to a point of no return.

He listens carefully, not interrupting for a second or pulling strange faces except for the softening of his eyes and the occasional narrowing too. You appreciate that, someone whose willing to just sit and listen without giving pities you dont need. That’s never what you’ve needed. “You’re so strong.” Is the first thing he says, and it almost startles you, wondering if that’s all he had actually taken away from it.  You didnt feel strong, but perhaps in his head, he meant you were capable. And you were— you could take all those blows and you were still here, but you werent strong, no. You were weak.

“To be able to starve yourself of food and sleep, just to fight for yourself. It’s admirable. Though not something i’d want you to do, obviously.” He chuckles softly, watching your eyes that train on him. His finger reaches forward, gently prodding in the middle of your chest, where your ribs lay. “You have will power; that’s the rawest form of strength, and not something to look down on. Forget your abilities, and the modifications, that is what is keeping you alive.”

.

.

.

.

“What?”

You blurt it out, because you quite literally cannot believe his words in the slightest. It doesn't make sense— at all. The modifications, all the effort and tests they ran on you.. wasn't the reason for all you’ve done?

“Don't look at me like I'm a crazy old codger.” He laughs, properly and runs his fingers through the messy locks of your hair, straightening them out before sitting back properly again. 

“It’s true. But that doesn't excuse anything, what Ghost did was wrong. We were all wrong too. We should’ve noticed and stepped in, we were just glad you were okay after everything.” He sighs, giving you a fond look that you just nod at, and he notices you don't take too well to sympathies. “Last night though.. you scratched yourself badly again. Why didn't you speak to us before? Why now?” 

That’s what pushed him over the line, he could stand not pushing your boundaries if you wouldn't talk about the nightmares. This was the truck all over again, sending you into a frenzy where you hurt your own self. It was visible, the long red scratches on your neck and disappearing down your shirt. They also lay on your face too, the skin raw and healing with time.

“I..i’ve been different— after what..happened. It’s happened once before.” You explain, making his eyes narrow in concern since he never heard of you shifting like your demeanour suddenly had.

“I passed out during my torture training once,” Your words are slow, reliving the memory yourself. “When I woke, it was like I was back to the first serum the doctors gave me. I couldn't react, my face was a blank slate and.. my mind was running at rampant speeds, i couldn't think straight. It was only until a week after the training that I snapped out of it, waking up with scratches on my face..”

It seemed to Price like this was some sort of fight or flight sequence, forcing you into quiet submission but to never make any sense of reaction, specifically engineered for high stress level situations such as torture. To think what Ghost had pushed you to was comparable to torture was a hard pill to swallow, but he had to ignore it for now.

“So you.. you werent really here for the past few weeks, until recently i guess.”

You nod slowly, agreeing to his words but he can still tell you’re conflicted, stuck in that middle ground of fighting for your sanity and trying not to get hurt in the process. “The priority is your sleep—if we can get rid of the nightmares, your state of mind will fix itself.” 

He’s right, but you refuse to take the proposal the others want. They had offered it last week, having Soap sleep on a bed beside you, not directly but just enough for his presence. Apparently during your coma, he had held your hand, and that’s why sometimes you had actually only seen darkness and not the horrors that lay waiting. But.. it seemed wrong to use him like that, just for your sake. Besides, as much as you may have warmed up to them before, you didn't entirely trust them right now. Speaking with Price was out of pure necessity, since you really weren't going to get any better if you kept trying to push through these nightmares on your own. But apart from that, you didn't feel that curiosity anymore, that need to be involved with them and have an actual team. Infact, facing Ghost felt so difficult sometimes that you wished they would just command you to listen, let life leave your eyes and let the thoughts fade. It sounded so much easier, a dream really. But maybe that was too easy of a way out for you, and the Ghost loved to torture it seemed.

Price watches the thoughts move behind your eyes, how hard you’re deciphering his words despite how you should be too exhausted to speak. It amazes him, and yet sickens him too. No one should be like this.

“How about something else..hm? You ever slept with something really warm?”

---------------------

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a/n: another chapter will be coming in the following day or so!! this chapter ending up being 5.7k words so i decided to split it up. Next one will likely be around 3k. Thank for the support!!!!

[cainetarot]

PICK A CARD: ★ JULY PREDICTIONS ★

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𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 1

Wow, too much goin on ya'll.

Before even shuffling ur damn cards i got the song "Run baby run" like whaaaaaaa!? 😳

Lately, something has disappointed u, an exhausting, back stabbing, maybe a betrayal? A draining cycle has FINALLY hit rock bottom.

In July, ya'll be stepping up into a new journey, a new cycle 🔥

SURVIVAL MODE IS OVER..u are closing or have closed a major karmic cycle 💫 Chapter is over, especially one where u were stuck in survival mode.

Things start moving fast this month ya'll. But with that speed, u gotta face truth bombs ⚡️

NOW IK WHY U GOT THAT SONG!

Ya'll can get stalked badly ngl, U could get an offer or opportunity or MONEY YEAHHHHHAHAH 🌝

Someone might play mind games or act selfishly, especially someone who’s insecure about ur ABSOLUTE glow up 😏🔥

If someone is shady around u, U'LL KNOW!

ik its hard, ik it's exhausting but trust me, once u'll focus on urself and ur glow up, nothing...I REPEAT NOTHING CAN STOP U! ⚡️

Don’t entertain drama.

Ur entering your boss era.

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𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 2

Why u so stubborn dawg?

WHAT the fuck are u holding on to?? lemme see..🤨

U thought July would be chill? Nah. This month is a plot twist..A convo or argument gives u a shocking clarity..

All ur doubts, fears, and overthinking are trapping ur fire. ARE U AWARE? Ur also clutching onto something too tightly ...money, pride, control, or ur emotions ❤️‍🔥

Something u were clinging to shatters, maybe a toxic connection, false hope, delulu, or a fear based goal.... IT BREAKS ⛓️‍💥

Expect a rude awakening, BUT GUESS WHAT?

The moment u release, the Wheel turns ☸️

U may say “I can’t do this anymore” and ghost a job, project, or person. A new person enters with fiery energy..maybe a flirt or idea partner.⚡

New timelines open. New luck, new paths, and sudden breakthroughs come ur way once u walk out of that emotional PRISON.

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𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 3

HOLY SHI..

STRAIGHT UP main character energy.

July brings love, leadership, fame potential, and a chance to COMPLETELY rewrite ur destiny 😭🌟

Either u gonna be meeting ur equal, or u and someone u already know are stepping into an aligned, powerful match!! 💘

This isn't just a situationship. It’s either a deep soulmate/twin flame awakening 🔥

ya'll could be meeting someone at an event, party, gathering, or even manifesting a relationship u thought was LOST.

Cards show drama, competition. Don’t ENGAGE.

Expect a surprise invite to a celebration/event/home. A karmic ex or hater tries to stir drama 🐾

Something that was “stuck” for months starts flowing again, Also ya'll can get compliments on ur looks, leadership, and voice✨

July is UR divine alignment month.

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[writingwisterias]

For each era of Leon, what is the pillowtalk conversation like. I figured each era of Leon would want to talk about something different

This is so cute omggg I love it!!! I hope you enjoy <3

Eras Masterlist

Warnings: None

RE2: Definitely something about the future. He seems very eager and hopeful in life and I think he would daydream about what could be with you. I imagine him holding you close or something like his face tucked in your hair as he just whispers about his plans. About how he's going to succeed in his new job, get the house and family you dreamed of. Obviously after Raccoon City it would be different, I think he would do the same thing but instead prefer to listen to your rambles about the day or whatever. A distraction, he knows he can't talk about it but might slip up occasionally. RE4R: Probably something random, things he's seen whilst he's out and about. Cheesy movies he saw in the blockbuster and wants to rent out. I don't think he would be actively thinking about the future and he definitely wouldn't slip up about the things he would have seen. Maybe if he did talk about it, it would be after a nightmare and it's you comforting him back to sleep. I just think he would prefer to sleep face to face, with you against the wall just laughing about random movies etc Infinite Darkness: Officer drama, whenever its your own work or his. I think he would be a huge gossip, telling you about people's work performances. The things he observes on his breaks etc. He would prefer to hear yours, almost like a reminder of what a normal job is. If you work with customers he wants to hear if they were nice or a dick to you. Coworker drama if people are dating etc. Just random ass gossip to distract himself with. He might briefly mention what he's seen on missions, maybe on sly about being in a Submarine or something, not enough for you to be at risk though. Damnation: Sort of like RE4R, I think he would want to talk about random things, crappy movies, outings with friends etc. He's becoming hidden with his feelings at this point, starting to heavily lean into alcohol to try and help the edge of sleep. He would maybe like silence, enjoying the feeling of you against him with silent support of any conversation if he needs it. Prefers it though if you practically lay on top of him as like a weighted blanket or something. Maybe he's sat a bit upright etc. RE6: He's very emotionally stunted in this game and doesn't really react to the fact it's literally a repeat of raccoon city. So I think he would use the time to actually process what happened. Nothing in depth maybe like a talk through of his feelings on topics you are already aware of such Ada. Not quite like a therapy session but it's more casual and caring. Vendetta: I don't think there would be much pillow talk. In my mind he's drinking to forget and sleep so he's either doing that silently as he has you close and watching you sleep. Or he's already passed out by the time you get in bed. Maybe after the events of the film I think he might use the chance to talk comfortably with what he's dealing with still not going into full detail over anything but enough for you help create a plan to heal Death Island: I think it's a full circle moment and we cycle back to him planning for the future. Maybe thinking about house's, decorating, children. Basically anything as long as you are in it. Depending on how long you have been together I think he would finally spill the beans about what happened all those years ago. Real like tear jerking conversations that are still somehow really sweet! A healing moment he truly deserves.

[fatliberation]

Sorry for leaving this in your inbox, but I need to vent and ask for advice in a place where people won't mock me. What do you do when sex is super difficult because of your fat? I've recently gotten into my first relationship and. I thought I had a handle on my internalized fatphobia and self hate but this has made it worse than ever. We can't have satisfying penetrative sex (we've tried all the tips and workarounds. Nothing works. I'm larger than most of the FA community.), and recieving oral sex is also difficult for me. I also get tired and sweaty extremely quickly if I have to like hold up myself on mostly my arms or something, so he has to do most of the work. So sex is just. Mostly the one that works on repeat, and we don't have it very often because it isn't that fun for either of us, and it also makes me cry afterwards sometimes because of how disappointing it is & me beating myself up over it.

I'm genuinely worried my boyfriend is going to leave me for this. He's clearly very frustrated with the situation, even though he tries to be nice about it most of the time. Earlier today I tried to like be flirty and hint at stuff and he just. got a bit sad. and then said that clearly neither of us enjoy the sex we're having and that he has a lot of trouble staying hard.and that he doesn't see the point when we're both forcing it for no reason. I think he's going to break up with me soon. His ex is way lighter than me, so he's probably comparing the normal sex he had with her with whatever the fuck this abnormal shitshow is :/

All the work I've done on myself to be happy with being fat (including working up the courage to date, what a mistake that was lmao) is all gone. This has ruined my self-esteem so much. I feel like one of those fatphobic jokes but a person.

first and foremost, please try your best to remember this: your body is not the problem. one more time. your body is not the problem. I'm so very sorry you're concerned that your boyfriend would leave you over this. it sounds like he has a lot of preconceived ideas about how sex is supposed to go. I promise you that it doesn't have to be this way. if this is something that could really end the relationship, know that this person is not compatible or open to exploring your needs, rather than your needs being "too difficult." I promise it's him, not you. I know folks who are 600+ pounds who have excellent sex lives and partners who satisfy them and enjoy satisfying them. when someone starts treating your pleasure like a chore, that's just shitty. I know how much it hurts. it also does damage to your own openness to pleasure. when you're caught up in feeling like sex/your body is something that needs to be "fixed," nothing is going to feel sexy, because all that pressure puts stress on and takes you out of the mental state where you're able to experience pleasure. does that make sense? so many couples get stuck in this cycle.

there are so many ways to engage in pleasure without penetration or orgasm. there's a lot that goes into foreplay, setting a mood, making your partner feel appreciated and attractive. words and touch play a huge part in this. something as simple as exploring each other's bodies, not with the intention of reaching climax, but simply to be vulnerable and engage each others' senses. have your partner give you a massage. play with your hair. tickle your back with a feather. shower together. kiss you. compliment you. if either of you are into any kinks or dirty talk, that could be a great way to engage each other sexually without the pressure of "achieving" a goal. the goal here is just to feel good, close, and connected. societal messaging about sex has placed so much importance on orgasm instead of pleasure - when taking the time and space to relax and receive attention, is key.

feel free to check out my other posts on fat sex ed, there's lots of assistive toys that can make pleasure more accessible, but I think that should be a tool for later, since the biggest issue here is the pressure to perform. know that pleasurable sex can exist for you! but for now, I would recommend taking a break from sex altogether since it is not pleasurable for you right now. because pleasure is the whole point. forcing it is only going to feel worse. you do not owe it to your boyfriend, especially if it doesn't feel good and is taking an emotional toll. I hope you both are able to take a step back, reassess and communicate, and are able to reconnect and create a safe space to explore.

I understand why you're beating yourself up over this, I've been there too. but also know that it's just another societal standard that's been internalized (and it doesn't sound like your boyfriend is helping). like you said, you've done a lot to unlearn fatphobia. there's a lot of internalized beliefs we absorb from society surrounding sex, just like body image. I promise that there is nothing wrong with you. If your boyfriend takes his frustration out on you instead of making you feel safe to express your needs, then he's not a supportive partner. you deserve someone who takes delight in your pleasure and your body. believe me, we're out there.

[melshifting]

⋆˚࿔ shifting pick a pile: your 'weaknesses' vs your strengths ―୨୧⋆ ˚

Disclaimer: Please remember that this is a collective reading, which means that not everything written here may resonate with you 100%; if it's not for you, let it go.

choose an image below!

.☘︎ ݁˖ For my pile 1...

Your weaknesses are as clear as water my friend lmao ― what did we say about obsessing over someone else's process? god, you are poisoning yourself with envy. This somehow drives you, but not with a good connotation; you think you should “hurry up” and shift so you don't feel jealousy anymore. Being this way makes you alert ― you're having your guard up as if you were taking it almost a little too personally.

Buttt, nevertheless, I must admit that you sure are persistent; once you find something you like, you really put your all into it for as long as it takes. That gives you the endurance to fight when something doesn't go right or you feel you are falling into destructive patterns. You have the willpower to break that bad habit, and you know it; maybe it's something unconscious, or you think it won't change your process, but oh boy, you're hurting yourself.

The advice for you is that you have to decide: either you stay suffering in silence, watching how apparently everyone enjoys shifting but you; or, you put on your big boy/girl pants and leave your envy aside.

.☘︎ ݁˖ For my pile 2...

You're in constant conflict with your own beliefs: you have the fixed idea that “you're not going to make it” or that “it's not for you” or any other silly excuse you can think of in an attempt to sabotage yourself. One side of you thinks that this is a temporary thing somehow, that it's too good to be real, and that, at some point in your life, your devotion to shifting will simply float away.

This other side of your conflicted mind is what keeps you going and what you have to keep on polishing, rather than the negative thoughts babe; your love for shifting gives you ambition ― this side resists the idea of looking at shifting from the logical side. While your ego tells you to stop this “bullshit”, your higher self knows that this is what you love and what you must continue to fight for with the strength you fought through other things.

The cards advise you not to be anxious if your ego rules your thoughts at times. Remind yourself that this is not you; you are not your negative thoughts ― The sun always comes out after the storm.

.☘︎ ݁˖ For my pile 3...

Dang, why do you feel like you are not moving forward in your process? You think that instead of moving forward, you are even going backward (and let me intrude and tell you that this is not true love). You are losing hope because of this, which sends you into a spiral of bringing that negativity into other aspects of your life as well ― it's like you truly believe there must be something wrong with you. And honestly, this becomes an endless cycle: you think you are slipping backwards ➝ you feel bad about it ➝ you unconsciously apply it to other things ➝ you lose hope ➝ repeat.

But not all is lost (it never was from the beginning anyway) ― you're full of knowledge and experience, and you are a wise person who knows what's best for yourself. If you need reinsurance, rely on past experiences: you have all the potential to work on this and get through it!! You've accomplished so much through hard work, why give up now?

And pleaseeee don't fight the change!! You know that one tiktok audio that goes: "you must break the pattern, or the loop will repeat itself tomorrow.." and so on? Well do it babe, because you know you have to get out of this. Don't be fooled by your ego, otherwise, you will continue to damage yourself for longer.

thanks a lot for reading! feedback and opinions are appreciated (as long as they are respectful)

happy shifting :3

[seungminsbaldspot]

Six Years, Five months and Two days | FIVE X READER

pairing: five hargreaves x reader

Word Count: 3805

Genre: angst

General Notes: Lila x Five did happen here folks :/, sexual themes, crude language, this does not correlate with whatever happens during seasons 4 other than Lila and Five jumping into a different timeline together for seven years, Reader is referred to as female and wife

Trigger Warnings: Infidelity and Betrayal: References to an affair and its emotional fallout, Emotional Turmoil: Repeated cycles of using others for support followed by pain, Unwanted Pregnancy: Discussion of a potential pregnancy with uncertain paternity, Conflict and Blame: Arguments and blame related to the affair and its effects,Intense Conversations: Emotional discussions filled with guilt, regret, and frustration, Relationship Breakdown: Decision to take a break from a relationship due to ongoing issues, and Self-Destructive Patterns: Seeking comfort in a way that leads to more distress.

Author’s note: I think if I could give this fic a song, I think it would be 'don't speak - no doubt’

Taglist:(comment if you wanna be added) @fate-posts

Spoiler: All you get is, there will be a part 4

Click here for part four !

Click here for the previous part two!

It's been a few weeks of this cycle: you using Five whenever the loneliness and anger become too much to bear, then pushing him away, crying in the aftermath, and repeating the cycle. Each encounter is a mix of bitterness and need, a desperate attempt to fill the void left by his betrayal while simultaneously punishing him for it.

Every time, you find solace in his presence, yet the relief is fleeting. The passion you once shared has become a battleground, where your emotions clash and your pain is laid bare. Afterward, as you watch him leave, you are left with a profound sense of emptiness, the tears you shed a stark reminder of the unresolved hurt that still lingers.

Even though this cycle is far from ideal for either of you, it has provided a certain measure of relief. Diego and Lila seem to be finding their way back to happiness, and as for you and Five—well, you’re not divorced, but it's hard to say if what you share can still be called a marriage.

It’s more of a fuck-buddy system now, with you being the only one reaching out. You start to wonder if Five ever gets tired of this arrangement. A flicker of sympathy for him crosses your mind, but it quickly fades when you remember the betrayal. He cheated on you—with his brother’s wife.

A knock on your bedroom door reels your out of your thoughts.

You open the bedroom door to find Lila standing there, her expression a mix of concern and resolve. She’s dressed casually, but there’s a seriousness in her posture that catches your attention.

“Hey,” she begins, her voice tentative but steady. “I was wondering if we could talk.” You nod, stepping aside to let her in. She walks into the room, glancing around as if taking in the remnants of your own turmoil. You close the door behind her, feeling a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

Lila takes a seat on the edge of your bed, her eyes meeting yours with a searching look. “I know things have been... complicated between us,” she starts, her voice gentle. “And I know that everything with Diego and Five has been tough on you. But I think it’s time we had an honest conversation.”

You sit down across from her, your mind racing with the possible reasons for her visit. Her sincerity and the weight of her words prompt you to brace yourself for what’s to come.

“First off, I want to say I’m sorry,” Lila begins, her voice trembling slightly. “I’m sorry for allowing what happened to happen.”You throw your hand up, shaking your head in frustration. “It takes two to tango, Lila. It wasn’t just you. It wasn’t just him.”

She nods, her eyes reflecting a mix of guilt and regret. “I know, but still…” She trails off, lost in thought for a moment. After a deep breath, she looks at you with a conflicted expression. “I’m not sure if telling you this is going to be a good idea.”

Your eyebrows furrow, curiosity and concern mingling in your gaze. “What do you mean? If there’s something you need to say, just say it.”

Lila hesitates, her eyes darting away, and then finally meets your gaze again. “I think I’m pregnant.”

The words hang heavy in the air between you, each syllable carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken fears and uncertainties. You stare at her, your mind racing as you try to process what she’s just said. The room feels suddenly smaller, the tension could be cut with a knife .

I—” You start, but no words come out. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “Are you sure?” Lila nods, her expression a mix of fear and resignation. “I’ve taken a few tests, and they’ve all been positive. I haven’t told Diego yet. I wasn’t sure how or when to bring it up.”

You run your hand through your hair, sitting in silence and shock. The room feels like it’s closing in around you. “I’m telling you this because I don’t know how far along I am. And there may be a slight chance… that… Five could maybe be the father.”

The weight of her words lands heavily on you, the implications sprawling out in every direction. Your mind races through the possibilities, each one more tangled and complicated than the last.

“Five?” you repeat, trying to grasp the full extent of what she’s saying. “You think… there’s a chance this could be Five’s baby?” Lila’s eyes are filled with a mix of regret and uncertainty. “I don’t know for sure, but I dunno, with the timing of everything, It could be his.”

You sit in stunned silence, struggling to process the revelation. “This is... a lot. I mean, Five and I, we’ve been—”

“Using each other,” Lila finishes for you, her voice barely a whisper. You sigh, your shoulders slumping under the weight of the revelation. “This—this is a lot, Lila. I don’t even know what to say,” you admit, feeling utterly defeated.

She nods, her eyes reflecting her own fear and regret. “I know... I’m sorry. I just wanted to be honest. I’m terrified of what this means for Diego and me, and for you and Five.”

You shake your head, trying to wrap your mind around the enormity of what Lila just shared. “I’m not sure why you’re telling me this, Lila.” Your voice is steadier than you feel, masking the chaos that’s erupting inside of you.

Lila takes a deep breath, her hands twisting in her lap. “Because you deserved to know the truth. I thought... maybe if we’re honest with each other, we can figure out what to do next.” Her voice wavers, but there's a glimmer of determination in her eyes.

You let out a bitter laugh, the sound escaping before you can stop it. “And what exactly is there to figure out, Lila? We wait. We wait for this child to grow enough to get a paternity test, and then we deal with whatever the hell happens afterwards.”

Lila flinches at the harshness of your words, her expression a mix of guilt and resolve. “I know it’s not that simple,” she says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “But what else can we do? I just wanted to be honest with you, to try and make things right somehow. I don’t want any more secrets between us.”

You shake your head, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over you. “You think being honest makes up for any of this? You think it undoes the fact that you two fucked?” Your words come out sharper than you intended, the anger being unable to be contained.

Lila's face crumples, her eyes welling up with tears as she looks down, unable to meet your gaze. “No,” she admits, her voice trembling. “I know it doesn’t make up for it. I know it won’t change what happened. But I can’t keep pretending like it didn’t happen, either. I’m trying to face it, to deal with it... even if it means facing you like this.”

You let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through your hair as you try to keep your emotions in check. “You want to face it? Fine. But I can’t pretend this makes us friends or whatever. You broke something—something that can’t just be fixed with a sorry and some honesty.”

Lila nods, a tear slipping down her cheek. “I know. I’m not asking for forgiveness... I’m not even sure I deserve it. I just wanted to be truthful, to at least try and do the right thing for once.”

You look at her, seeing the raw emotion in her eyes, the genuine remorse etched across her face. For a moment, your anger softens, replaced by a heavy, painful understanding. She’s just trying to figure everything out too, struggling to navigate the chaos and consequences of her actions, just like you. But it doesn’t erase the fact that she played a big part in all of this, that her choices have led to this mess that now binds all of you together.

Still, there’s a part of you that wants to hold onto the anger, to use it as a shield against the hurt and betrayal. Yet, seeing her like this, vulnerable and regretful, you can’t help but feel a flicker of empathy. Maybe she doesn’t deserve forgiveness, but neither of you deserve this situation either.

You exhale slowly, trying to push away the conflicting emotions that swirl inside you. “Look, Lila,” you say, your voice more steady now, “I get that you’re trying to do the right thing. And I get that you’re scared. Hell, I am too. But I can’t just pretend like everything’s okay because you decided to come clean.”

Lila nods again, swallowing hard. “I know,” she whispers. “I don’t expect things to be okay. I just… I need you to know the truth. I thought it was the least I could do.”

You let out another sigh, feeling the weight of her words settle over you like a heavy blanket. “Yeah…” you murmur, trailing off as the enormity of the situation sinks in. Lila takes a deep breath, her gaze shifting nervously before she speaks again. “Do you think you could... tell Five for me?”

Your eyes widen in disbelief. “Why in the hell would I do that?” you snap, unable to hide your frustration.

Lila bites her lip, her eyes filled with a mix of desperation and vulnerability. “Because I’m scared,” she admits softly. “I don’t know how he’s going to react, and I don’t think I can handle another confrontation right now.”

You stare at her in disbelief, anger simmering just beneath the surface. “You’re scared?” you repeat, your voice rising slightly. “Lila, I’m barely holding it together myself. You think I want to be the one to tell him that there’s a chance he might be the father? That’s your issue to deal with.”

She flinches at your words, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “I get it, I do,” she says quietly, her voice trembling. “But I thought... maybe he’d take it better coming from you.”

You shake your head, frustration boiling over. “That’s because I’m his wife, Lila. Or at least, I was before all this happened,” you snap. “But I’m not your messenger, and I’m certainly not going to be the one to clean up your fuck-ups.”

Lila flinches again, your words hitting her like a physical blow. Her eyes brim with fresh tears, but she blinks them back, trying to hold herself together. “I know,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “I know this is my mess. I just… I thought maybe… since you know him better…”

You cut her off with a sharp shake of your head, your frustration reaching its peak. “Don’t you dare put this shit on me,” you snap, your voice cold and unyielding. “I didn’t cause this mess, and I’m not going to be the one to clean it up for you. You made your choices, Lila. Now you have to deal with them.”

Lila’s face crumples, her composure breaking under the weight of your words. “I’m sorry,” she says again, her voice cracking. “I’m so sorry. I know I’ve hurt you. I know I’ve hurt Diego, and now this… I just don’t know how to fix it.”

You feel a mix of anger and pity as you look at her, sitting there so lost and broken. Part of you wants to scream at her, to make her feel the full weight of the pain she’s caused. But another part of you, a quieter, more compassionate part, recognizes her remorse and the fear in her eyes. She’s struggling, just like you are, caught in a situation that has spiraled out of control.

“Lila,” you say more calmly, though your voice still holds a steely edge, “I’m not the one who can make this right. You need to talk to Diego. You need to talk to Five. You need to deal with this. I can’t do it for you. I won’t.” She nods, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “You’re right,” she says quietly. “I’ll talk to them. I’ll… I’ll figure it out. I just… I’m sorry.”

There’s a long pause, the silence between you heavy and loaded with unspoken emotions. Finally, you sigh, feeling some of the tension leave your body. “Just… be honest with them,” you say softly. “That’s all you can do now.” Lila nods, her expression a mix of determination and fear. “Thank you,” she says, her voice barely more than a whisper. “For listening. For… for everything.”

Without another word, she turns and leaves the room, the door closing softly behind her. You stand there for a moment, staring at the closed door, feeling a whirlwind of emotions—anger, frustration, sadness, and a tiny, flickering ember of hope. Maybe, somehow, things could start to heal. Maybe, with time, you could all find a way forward. But for now, all you can do is take it one step at a time.

A little while later, another knock breaks the silence, pulling you from the depths of your thoughts. You’ve been sitting alone in the quiet room, the weight of everything pressing down on you. You feel drained, the emotional toll of the last conversation still fresh, and the last thing you want is another confrontation.

With a weary sigh, you stand and cross the room to open the door. On the other side, Five stands there, his expression tight with worry. His eyes quickly scan you, taking in your disheveled appearance and the exhaustion etched across your face.

"Hey," he says, his voice unsteady but low. He looks you up and down again, as if searching for some clue to your state of mind. You sigh, “What hell do you want?” He sighs, running his hand through his hair, “Lila told me.”

You stand there, feeling the weight of his words. “She told you?” you echo, trying to keep your voice steady. Five nods, his face a mixture of concern and frustration. “Can I come in?” he asks quietly.

You sigh, stepping aside to let him in. As he crosses the threshold, you can’t help but feel a lingering, complicated affection for him, despite everything that’s happened.

He takes a seat on the edge of the bed, and you sit down beside him, the space between you feeling both intimate and charged with unresolved tension. Five runs a hand through his hair, his eyes meeting yours with a pained expression. “I have no fucking idea what to do,” he admits, his voice heavy with frustration.

You stifle a laugh, the sound coming out more like a bitter chuckle. “Welcome to the fucking club,” you reply, your tone laced with a mix of sarcasm and resignation. The absurdity of the situation is almost too much to bear, and yet, there’s a part of you that appreciates his honesty and vulnerability.

Five’s expression softens slightly, a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. “So what now?” he asks, his voice quieter. You chuckle again, “Who’s ‘we,’ Five? Last time I checked, it only takes two to make a baby,” you reply, your tone reflecting the harsh reality of the situation. The words hang between you.

Five looks down, clearly grappling with the weight of your words. “I know,” he says quietly, his voice heavy. “I just... What if it is mine?”

You shrug, the gesture feeling as heavy as the conversation. “Then you’d be the father,” you reply coldly. Your tone is blunt, a reflection of the emotional exhaustion you’re feeling—tired of crying, tired of being upset.

He groans, “No fucking shit. What the fuck am I supposed to do? What are we going to do?” He gestures between the two of you, his frustration clear.

You take a deep breath, trying to keep your own emotions in check. “Look, Five,” you begin, your voice firm but weary, “The only thing you, Lila, and Diego can do is wait. Wait for the baby to be old enough to take a paternity test.

He sighs but nods, “Sorry for getting angry at you.” You shrug. unsure of what to say. At this point, words seem inadequate. The situation is so far beyond simple apologies and explanations. You just nod, acknowledging his apology without feeling the need to respond.

The silence that follows is heavy, charged with the weight of your shared pain. Five’s eyes linger on your face, his concern cutting through the tension. “Are you okay?” he asks softly, his voice betraying a genuine worry despite the strained circumstances.

You almost laugh, the irony and frustration bubbling to the surface. “Yeah, I’ve been so fucking good,” you say, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Since the day I learned my husband cheated on me with his brother’s wife, and now that said wife might be carrying said husband’s baby.” You let out a humorless chuckle, shaking your head. “Everything’s just perfect.”

Five's face tightens with guilt and sorrow as he processes your words. “I’m really sorry,” he says quietly, his voice filled with regret. “I never wanted any of this to happen. I know that’s not enough, but I’m trying— Fuck, I’m trying so fucking hard to make you forgive me.” He runs a hand through his hair, frustration evident in his movements.

You open your mouth to respond, but he cuts you off, his voice rough and strained. “I’m trying, alright? I’m here, doing whatever fucked-up shit you need me to do. I thought maybe I could help in some way, even if it’s just by being here for you. But it feels like nothing I do is right. I don’t know how to fix this or if I even can. I’m just fucking lost.”

He pauses, his eyes searching yours for any sign of redemption or understanding. The frustration and self-loathing in his voice are palpable. You can see the weight of his guilt and regret hanging heavy on him, his attempts to fix things feeling futile and exhausting.

You look away from his intense gaze, the depth of his pain hitting you hard. “I just really fucking love you, alright?” he says, his voice cracking with raw emotion. He reaches out, gently cupping your cheek and turning your face towards him. The touch is tender, almost desperate, as if he's trying to hold on to the last remnants of what you once shared. His eyes, filled with a mix of hope and anguish, search yours for some sign that his words have made a difference.

You feel the warmth of his hand against your skin, the contact both comforting and excruciatingly painful. The depth of his plea and the sincerity in his touch make your heart ache, caught between the love you still feel and the hurt that's been inflicted. His gaze is unwavering, his desperation to mend what’s broken evident in the way he holds your face, as if afraid that if he lets go, he’ll lose you completely.

You sigh, your eyes closing briefly as you gather your thoughts. Slowly, you grasp his wrist and pull it away, creating a necessary distance between you. “Five,” you begin, your voice weary but resolute, “I can’t keep doing this. This is too fucking painful.”

He looks at you, confusion and hurt mixing in his eyes. “What are you saying?” he asks, his voice trembling slightly.

You take a deep breath, trying to find the right words amidst the storm of emotions. “I think we need to take a break," you say, your voice quiet but firm. "This situation... it's too complicated, too messy. We both need time to figure things out, especially with everything that's happening with Lila." You pause, meeting Five's gaze, "I can't keep letting myself be hurt by you."

His expression shifts, a mix of shock and sadness settling in. “A break?” he repeats, his voice barely audible. You nod, your resolve firm despite the emotional weight of the moment. “Yes, a break.” You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

He looks at you, confusion and hurt mingling in his eyes. “We’ve never done anything like this before…” he states, his voice trailing off as he searches your face for some hint of a different solution.

You nod, unable to meet his gaze. It hurts, it hurts really fucking bad. You love this man—or loved him? You aren’t too sure anymore. You’ve been through so much together, and the thought of putting distance between you feels like a stab to the heart.

You finally look up, your voice breaking with raw emotion. “I think it’s— it’s for the best.”

You can see the pain in Five's eyes, the way his shoulders slump at your words. He takes a shaky breath, his voice cracking as he struggles to hold back tears. “If that’s what you need...” he begins, but his words trail off, unable to complete the thought. The weight of your decision hangs heavily in the air between you.

You look away, unable to bear the sight of him in such distress—the man you love - broken by your own choices. It’s a painful reminder of the betrayal that brought you to this point, and your heart aches even as you try to stay firm.

Five sighs deeply, gathering himself as he rises from the bed. He walks slowly toward the door, each step heavy with resignation. “I guess I’ll keep you updated on anything that happens with Lila and the baby,” he says, his voice a whisper, almost like he’s trying to convince himself as much as you.

You nod, the gesture feeling hollow as you wave him off. “Yeah, okay,” you reply, your tone subdued. As he exits, the door clicks shut behind him, leaving you alone in the quiet room.

[the-impulse-to-love]

so. house veridian and feathered host

ive been thinking more n more ab the "divide" betwen house veridian and feathered host. and with the two songs off of EIA about the consequences of fame, i'm inclined to believe it relates to that.

more specifically:

house veridian represents the desire to push forward with the band; they must "endure" feelings of burnout

vessel (and the others ofc) care about the fanbase. this much is evident from the music and rituals. something something damocles something something him apologizing for not always being able to deliver his best. he wants to deliver out of love and care, but it's difficult since he's ultimately a person who struggles with his own problems and stress. nonetheless, he's trying to endure.

"the house" can also refer to the fanbase and community. collectively, we have to endure any setbacks or incidents within the fandom (such as. the whole thing with caramel) by reflecting and improving our behaviour as fans. for instance, respecting the band's boundaries which is something they explicitly asked for in caramel. hell, the house might collapse if we can't get our shit together.

the idea of fight (fight vs flight). fight is actively engaging with the issue at hand and figuring out how to beat it/work around it.

so, "enduring" is more so figuring out how to overcome negative thoughts and make the whole process (songwriting, touring, etc) more healthy for everyone involved. bc it's clear with damocles and caramel that it is taking a toll on vessel (and the band).

whereas

feathered host represents the desire to stop; the desire to "break the cycle"

the cycle in this case likely refers to what vessel described in damocles: "and i play discordant days on repeat / till the tape runs out on me," or he has to replay his struggles in his mind to adequately write about them. this is obviously draining.

it can also refer to music industry itself and consumerism, in which artists are often treated as a mere tool to pump out content and generate revenue. we know that sleep token also has some sorta exclusive licensing deal with rca, likely meaning they have more control than the standard artist with their work. (good for them!)

however, it's still a cycle of consumerism and the band is expected to pump out songs and go on tours and whatnot, both by the fans and the music industry.

so, breaking the cycle could either mean stopping the band altogether (which. i honestly don't think will happen for the foreseeable future. this would be in a very literal sense). rather, i think it is finding a better way to navigate making content in which the tiring cycle is broken, or at least minimized so it takes less of a toll on everyone involved. breaking a cycle doesn't mean the extreme option has to be taken.

as for tying into the idea of "flight" (fight vs flight), it would mean escaping the problem at hand which. isn't a bad thing. it's alright to take a step back and take a break, yk?

and i don't think either of these are ultimately Bad Decisions, you know? it wouldn't really make sense to have the fans vote like that for either as well...

instead, i think it's a struggle to find balance between the two ideas.

how do you sustain something you care so deeply about even if it drains you? do you stop altogether? do you take a break? do you just push on and hope it gets better?

if this idea is true, i don't think there will be a clear "winner” with the two sides. rather, they're two ideas that can coexist, but it's just a matter of how.

how can the band and community be sustained/endure while breaking the cycle of consumerism and creative exploitation?

and it's a collaborative effort. we, as fans, have to sorta realize how to be more respectful towards the band and understand that they're ultimately People.

so. basically i'm inclined to believe this might be the theme of EIA. obviously, we still have seven songs left (maybe even the bonus tracks) but. Just A Theory

[whenmemorydies]

The restaurant could be good.

Why did Syd call herself an accomplice in 3x05 Children?

I was re-reading @yannaryartside's fantastic meta about this (and you should too) and it got me thinking. In their meta, OP asks:

Is Syd (or her leaving) supposed to be a wake-up call to Carmy? That he fucked up something that brought him genuine joy and connection because Syd knew the real him, while Claire liked Logan and Carmy's brokenness? The way Claire would enable him in his bad tendencies? How is he gonna realize all that?

Honestly, I don't know what these writers have planned for how Carmy comes to the realisation that season 3 Carmy is not it lol. But I have one suspicion about how it might go, and it has less to do with Carmy and more to do with Syd.

We have to go back to season 1 where it all started. Where Sydney met Carmy and articulated within the first three episodes of the show, her hopes for her future and the future of The Beef.

Recall 1x02 Hands and the convo between her and Richie in Richie's car:

Sydney: You know the restaurant could be good. Like I know you know that. Like it doesn't have to be a place where the food is shitty, and where everybody acts shitty and feels shitty. Like it could be a good legit spot.

Cut to season 3, after Syd and Carmy have overhauled the restaurant and everyone is...well...acting shitty, feeling shitty and the food is looking like a damn mess:

Also recall the alley chat in 1x03 Brigade:

Sydney: You know, I think this place could be so different from all the other places we've been at. But in order for that to be true, we need to run things different.

Then cut to season 3 where we have EC Carmy decidedly not running things different at The Bear. Instead, he repeats toxic communication and management styles from his past:

Recall 1x05 Sheridan and Sydney's vulnerability with Carmy about why she started her catering business, Sheridan Road, after leaving the restaurant scene:

Sydney: Like it was the first time I didn't have a complete and utter psychopath behind me screaming, and pushing and yelling, and I thought I wanted that, you know?

Cut to season 3 and, well, you know the drill: behold our fav Executive Jeff acting like an utter psychopath and partaking in some screaming, pushing and yelling.

So what happened in season 3? Why have things gone in almost the exact opposite direction of what Sydney hoped for in season 1?

To my mind, the answer to that question lies in season 2 and what both Syd and Carmy were doing during that season. Yes, Syd spent most of season 2 setting up the restaurant alone while Carmy played hooky with Claire. But what was more striking to me was the contrast in effort that both of them put into actually doing things different at the restaurant (as per their pledge to each other during the alley chat of 1x03 Brigade).

Breaking cycles

I agree with @yannaryartside: Carmy playing hooky with Claire in season 2 was him numbing himself (i.e. Claire is the drug that he was addicted to for this purpose). I also reckon he was using Claire as another way to keep Mikey in his life - a reverse-engineered haunt - particularly while the most obvious physical manifestation of Mikey in the present day (The Beef itself) was being transformed into something else entirely. That kind of change - that kind of loss - couldn't have been easy for Carmy, particularly as The Bear was something he had wanted to open with this brother in the first place. I get why Carmy would "self-medicate" with Claire to try and numb some of the pain he may have felt, I really do.

But while Carmy was spending so much of his time either avoiding or dulling his pain, it meant he had little time or energy for working through these things. We know that he has been making attempts at this particularly in relation to his familial trauma and grief (as evidenced by his attendance at Al-Anon meetings). But throughout seasons 1-3 we see almost no work on Carmy's part to address the abuse and trauma that he's experienced in professional kitchens. We do not see him trying to prepare himself for the task of leading an entire restaurant. The first and only time we see Carmy start this process is in the last episode of season 3, when he bravely confronts Chef David Fields at the funeral dinner for Ever.

Now admittedly, Sydney does not have the history of familial abuse that Carmy does. But as discussed above, she does share a history of professional abuse in the restaurant industry with him. Its why the two of them make that promise to each other to do things different in 1x03 Brigrade.

To this end, Sydney spends almost all of season 2 working to enhance her leadership skills to make herself better for the staff she'll be leading as CDC of The Bear. Recall her book, Leading with the Heart by Mike Krzyzewski (Chicago-born, Polish-American and hugely successful former basketball coach of the Duke University Blue Devils and the American national basketball team), gifted to her by her father, Emmanuel:

In the beginning of 2x07 Forks, we follow Sydney as she surveys The Bear during renovations and while she works on a menu idea. This opening sequence features the following narration from an interview with Krzyzewski (which reiterates the show's ongoing message that none of us are alone, particularly when we take the time to listen to one another):

The other thing is that you're not gonna get there alone. You know, be on a team. You know, surround yourself with good people and learn how to listen.

You're not gonna learn with you just talking.

And when you do talk, converse. Don't make excuses. Figure out the solution. And you don't have to figure it out yourself.

I always wanted to be part of a team and obviously I wanted to lead that team. You know, [...] what an interesting life it is to be a leader.

The advice Coach K gives in the above monologue is also mirrored in Marcus' eulogy for his mother where he spoke about the importance of listening. It's also gold advice for how to be consistent in relationship to others. I've spoken here about the themes of chaos and consistency on this show and how one of Carmy's battles is understanding that,

[C]onsistency in terms of a product (e.g. a clean kitchen every night or immaculately plated dishes each service) and consistency in terms of relationships are two different things. You can strive for consistent products but destroy all your relationships in the pursuit of them. Conversely, if you strive for consistency in your relationships, you may not always make consistent products (and quite frankly, that's OK - is a perfectly plated agnolotti dish worth Carmy's relationship with Tina? Is driving Syd to a panic attack worth Carmy's pursuit of a star? I think not on both counts).

Sydney took the time throughout season 2 to learn how to be consistent and effective as a leader. She knew - and knows - that simply being an excellent chef is not going to cut it when it comes to running a restaurant and leading a team. This took time and effort on her part but she was committed to making The Bear different to all the other places she'd been at, so she did it. I should also note that Syd did this internal work while menu-planning and trying to push herself culinarily. She was doing so much lifting. Jealousy of Claire aside, I am surprised Syd didn't rip Carmy a new one when he talked about rejigging the menu while at his girl-who's-a-friend's house lmao.

Cut to season 3 though, and Syd is running The Bear with Carmy who has spent the entire season not having put in the work to change the chemistry in their restaurant. Of course Syd tries to counter this as best she can. She runs interference with the team and gently tries to steer the ship. But as she says in 3x09 Apologies, things have been off at The Bear.

So when Syd tells us in 3x05 Children that she's an accomplice, I can't help but feel that in her heart, Sydney believes she's an accomplice in the betrayal of their vision - Sydney and Carmy's shared vision for The Bear - from season 1. The vision she worked so hard during season 2 to bring to fruition.

By season 3, they've betrayed it and each other: family style is no where to be found and The Bear looks and feels like all the other places Syd and Carmy have been at. While exhausting for Carmy ("I'm so fucking sick of this"), this would have been devastating for Syd, given all she's done to try and avoid this outcome. You can understand why she'd consider an offer like Shapiro's (though we know she's not going to take it).

Given the events of 3x10, where Carmy confronts Chef David and has that heart-to-heart with Chef Terry, its clear his perspective on Michelin mode is starting to shift. I think the threat of losing Sydney will scare the shit out of him too. But what I think will prompt Carmy to actually change his behaviour in season 4 is the realisation that he too is an accomplice and has betrayed not just himself but Sydney and their team as well. Season 4 will necessarily need to be told, at least in part, from Syd's perspective so that the impact of this on Syd is made clear to the audience (Storer and Calo, are you listening? Its me, a desperate fan). And once Carmy recognises his role in continuing the traumatic professional legacy championed by Chef Fields, he can get into working through and breaking that cycle. I'll be seated and ready for it.

[starcurtain]

Not sure if you've discussed about it before but any thoughts on the suspicious amount of number 10 associations surrounding Phaidei, and esp. Mydei? Number 10 in Pythagoreanism also represents perfection or completeness. So I don't know what to think of that in this context.

Numerology is not my area of expertise, but a couple thoughts:

You already mentioned Pythagoras, so I figure you have the ancient Greek numerology covered. It seems that 10 was particularly important for ancient Greece; the entire mathematical system was a base-10 system, so everything is built on and reduces to that. In the sense that 10 is "completeness," I think this number must also convey a sense of balance--therefore, I think if we apply the constantly recurring number 10 to Phainon and Mydei's connection, it seems to be the idea of one of being each other's "match," or balancing each other out--neither can defeat the other in battle; both are needed to protect Amphoreus, etc. The idea of completing each other is very romantic, of course. In any case, even if the number itself is not the actual importance, the fact that the dev team deliberately paralleled Mydei's parents have a ten-round duel and falling in love to Mydei and Phainon having a ten-day-and-night duel at their first meeting, and then to Mydei telling Phainon his one weakness (the 10th vertebra) demonstrates that the link between Mydei, Phainon, and closeness is all intentional and important. I think that the sense of "perfection" in this case could also be linked to the sense of "meant to be."

On the Chinese side, at least as far as I've been able to read, the connotation is a little less extreme. The number 10 isn't bad, but it isn't extremely special/lucky either. Decent luck? lol. From what I've been able to gather, the sense that "10 = complete/perfection" is also present in Chinese numerology, but culturally, other numbers like 8 have more significance, and 10's sense of perfection or completion can sometimes run contrary to the idea of personal improvement--once you reach fullness, completion, or the pinnacle, there is nowhere else to go. So it's not an ill omen or anything on the Chinese side, but may carry some social baggage that the Greek interpretation did not have. As ten constantly reappears in Mydei's life, perhaps this is a sign pointing to fate--perhaps ten symbolizes moments where one meets one's destiny, where one approaches the end of the cycle.

As a final number to consider, 10 is also the number for "the Wheel of Fortune" card in the major arcana. Since there's been a lot of speculation connecting Star Rail and the tarot in recent worlds, it might be worth considering the connotations of this card. In conjunction with 10 symbolizing "completion of the circle," or "reaching the pinnacle," the assumption is that life is made of ups and downs. We rise and fall, like a turning wheel--or like Amphoreus's repeating cycles. When you reach the top, the only place to go is down; thus, the "perfection" of ten represents the exact turning point at which one's fortunes will once again change. The Wheel of Fortune tarot card represents those major changes, connecting back to the concept of both fate and will--what is inevitable and has yet to be decided, what you can do to seize control of your own destiny. I think this relates very well to Mydei's situation and role in the plot of Amphoreus. His experience is one long metaphor for the cruelty of fate, for those who cannot or who fail to break free of what prophecy has predicted for them. At every turn, Mydei challenges the destiny that has been set before him, refusing to continue the traditions of Kremnos, desperately rejecting the coreflame, stating that he will fight with every ounce of his will to reject the future in which he is forced to become the titan of Strife. Thus, he is both suffering the affects of the "Wheel" and doing his best to break free of it. With this card and its meaning in mind, we could also read his connection with Phainon, where the 10 keeps repeating, as symbolic of turning points in Mydei's life, places where the "wheel" of his fate took new turns.

Just sayin'!

[raayllum]

The thing (or one of the things) about Ezran in early S7 is that while he's not being unreasonable, he is being hypocritical and unproductive ("You forgave Zubeia"). 7x01 is his breaking point after seasons of trying to keep everyone else together and weathering each conflict in as most an unaffected manner as possible, and he quite simply couldn't do it anymore.

Zubeia sent an assassin to kill your father? You long for your mother so deeply, you don't know your dad is dead yet, you do everything you can to get Zym back home because you love him (you can literally see through his eyes) and because it's the best chance for peace. Forgive her for killing your father and trying to kill you because she was grieving and Zym's dad for killing your mother because he's dead and they miss him. Put all your anger in a box at the one person who actually did kill him, because Zubeia saw her baby and changed her mind, and your found family sister (who is also missing) defected and spared your life that night, and he didn't.

Deny the ugly truths as long as you can by focusing on peace ("I ignored something that was true. I denied something that is undeniable"). Why should you have to acknowledge anger? Can't you just get past that? And then you can't, with the picture. (Then you can't, later, with yourself.)

Rayla comes back and Callum is fighting with her? Forgive and welcome her back unconditionally and try to counsel Callum through his big feelings. Rinse and repeat when Soren and then Zym goes missing. Advocate for and refuse to give up on Rex Igneous until he sends you sprawling into a wall.

Take on the responsibility of negotiating with the dragons. With Finnegrin (you offer up your hand, and so do your friends, your family). Talk your brother out of a more violent solution, and Rayla sides with you. She does again about hiding with the pearl and you save each other's lives. You look after home while she and Callum leave to save the world, and tell Soren the hard truth and deal with Viren till you don't. You try to spare Karim and his forces. You believe in peace. You believe in breaking the cycle.

"I am a king, and as a king, I choose love over strength."

"King of what? King of ashes?"

Ezran looks at what two years of trying to do the right peaceful thing has earned him — a destroyed kingdom while he was away — and he desperately, angrily, grasps at any semblance of control. This can't be all it was for. He feels like he's failed as a king, and is therefore a bad king. He needs to punish Sol Regem for it, but he can't. It needs to be Runaan's 'fault' because Runaan made him a king, even though keeping Runaan chained up in the Banther Lodge basement doesn't do anything but keep another family (Rayla's family) apart and make him feel in control. His pendulum swings so hard and strong, the target of his anger constantly changing to the most recent wound stacked upon themselves. After 7x02, he's not visibly angry at Runaan again until the finale; he's angrier at Callum than he is at Rayla because he thought he had control over his brother ("Callum. High Mage. We need you at this council meeting") even if that shouldn't be the goal or the focus at all anyway.

Callum doesn't betray him just because of Rayla, but because Ezran is perpetuating the cycle in a way that is antithetical to everything all three of them have striven to break, which is exactly what Callum points out to him. (If Rayla had surrendered or Callum had stayed, they just all likely would've been arrested, as it's unlikely Rayla and Runaan would've made it in the boat with Callum's magic, either. Would that have made Ezran, or anyone, feel better, hunting down his brother and friends, bringing them back in chains? No, and only Aanya is brave enough to say it out loud after Ez proves he values his bond with his brother / Callum's life over destroying Runaan's and Rayla's by proxy.)

"Because pain and loss feel so terrible inside, you want to hate. You want to hurt someone else."

What would killing or imprisoning Runaan (again) really have done?

"Hasn't he already been punished enough? Viren trapped him in a cursed coin for years. It's time to set him free." / "How much suffering is enough to pay for the mistakes we've made? No amount of suffering, yours or mine, will ever bring him back."

("As a father, I have a selfish wish, and that is for you and Ezran to be... free.")

"A life for a life. Is that justice?"

We also see that his scene with Runaan is one of the very last in the season. It's been months, if not nine, before Ezran was ready to have that conversation, ready to do with Runaan what he willingly did with Aaravos ("A king must look into the face and hear the words of those he judges"). A few days or a week by Callum's estimate wouldn't have been enough.

Ezran set Terry free to see if they could really trust him. He refused to do the same with Runaan even when it was causing clear pain and fracturing within his own family unit, nor did Runaan come to Katolis to face justice; it was just happenstance. But in Runaan being freed, he was then able to choose to come back to face Ezran's verdict. And then Ezran makes his own conscious choice.

"I'm going to forgive you. I don't know how, but I have to try."

He told everyone else that they had to acknowledge the weight of the pain and loss in their hearts while also holding love. It was hard before. It was hard now. But he has to try.

(Nor does Harrow being in the bird erase the two years of mourning hell that Ezran went through, remove the crown from his brow, make things with Runaan any easier tbh, or mean he's 100% getting his father back.)

[2i1han]

chapter 1 : "what happened to us?"

𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗌 | park wonbin

pairing : wonbin x reader / reader addressed as heo sori

genre : heavy romance , angst , mature , drama | wc : 9k

warnings : adult themes , toxic relationship , mentions of cheating , mild language , fade to black , slice of life

playlist : whisper / park jiwoo , heavy heart / rio , the rose song / rio , where am i / jiyul , youra / ral 9002 , k. / cas , when dawn comes again / colde , let it begin / say sue me , new boots / rio

a love that was once passionate but toxic leaves you and wonbin trapped in a cycle of desire, distance, and unresolved emotions. even after breaking up, both of you keep finding your way back to each other. as jealousy, regret, and unspoken feelings pull and push you apart, the two of you are forced to confront whether you're doomed to repeat the mistakes or finally break free.

ch. 1 | ch. 2 | ch. 3 | ch. 4 | ch. 5 | ch. 6 |

you're curled up in the corner of your dimly lit apartment, surrounded by silence so thick it almost feels tangible. the air is stale, heavy with the scent of neglect—unwashed sheets, a forgotten cup of coffee on the table. your eyes, bloodshot from too many sleepless nights, barely aware of the world outside the window. the only light filtering in is the cold, bluish glow of the late-night sky, casting long, distorted shadows across the walls.

your lips are pale, cracked from dehydration, and your hair, tangled and unkempt, clings to your damp forehead. the shirt you're wearing is the same one from yesterday, maybe the day before too, but you can't bring yourself to care. the dried crust of tears remains on your cheek, your mouth slightly parted as you stare blankly ahead.

you don't know when it started—when your life began to snap like a thread pulled too hard. you don't know when you became this version of yourself, this hollow, distant stranger you hardly recognize. a monster, maybe. everyone who once mattered is gone, slipping through your fingers like sand, and deep down, you know why. you've always known why.

your friend, the one you swore you couldn't live without. your mother, who once held you with hands so warm you thought nothing could ever break you. the only friend you had since university, the one who stayed until you finally found a simple job you loved. and now, even that's gone.

you used to love flowers. you used to believe they were delicate, beautiful, a reflection of life itself—just like your mother always said. but now, you can't stand them. you can't stand the sight of them, the scent, the idea of them. you don't love being a florist anymore. you don't love yourself anymore.

and you don't know who to blame. the world? fate? yourself? or is it park wonbin? either way, you're still here. still ruined. and you have no idea how to get back up.

━━━

it wasn't always like this. once, your life had color, warmth. you were raised with so much love that even in rooms filled with fear, you could chase it away. you grew up believing life was full of beauty. hardships came and went, but you carried love and gentleness like armor, believing that even in chaos, there was something worth holding onto.

to love is to hurt. but to love is also to turn hurt into strength.

that included the man who once walked into the flower shop you're working at, shifting everything in your world without even knowing it.

he had long, dirty blonde hair, slightly messy but effortlessly cool. a gray beanie pulled low over his forehead, black leather jacket clung on his broad shoulders. his presence was quiet, but something about him demanded attention. and dangling from his left shoulder is a camera.

he paused at the entrance for just a moment. his gaze found you, lingering for a second longer than necessary—like he recognized you. like you were someone familiar in a life he couldn't remember. but then, just as quickly, he smirked and walked forward, stepping past the threshold and toward the counter where you stood.

you barely spared him a glance at first, just a fleeting look before offering the same warm smile you gave to every customer. effortless and soft. the kind of smile that made people think you had never known sadness.

"what can i get you today, sir?" your voice was light, and delicate.

his attention flicked back to you as you spoke, and the smirk returned. he studied you for a while, but you held his gaze without faltering.

"ten red roses. no need to wrap them fancy," he said.

you nodded, mouthing a small "okay" before stepping out from behind the counter. the small trapdoor creaked as you pushed through, the hem of your long white skirt swaying gently around your ankles. you tucked your baby blue cardigan closer around your frame as you walked toward the section where the red roses sat in neat rows.

going back behind the counter, you carefully wrapped the roses in brown paper, folding the edges neatly before tying a piece of rustic yarn around the stems. your fingers moved with care, securing the bundle before slipping it into a simple paper bag. as you handed it to the man in front of you, he extended his card, his fingers brushing yours briefly before you swiped it through the teller.

flashing a bright smile, you returned the card. "thank you, sir. come again!"

he looked at you for a moment before his lips curled into a subtle smile. "i will," he said before turning toward the door. the small bell above the entrance chimed as he stepped out into the daylight.

and true to his words, he did come back for the next few weeks every day. sometimes, he bought a full bouquet—other times, just a single stem of a white rose. he never stayed too long, just enough for small exchanges, brief moments where his presence made itself into your routine. over time, the space between your conversations shortened, and soon, park wonbin wasn't just a regular customer. he became something else entirely.

even after your shifts, you found yourselves spending time together. grabbing quick meals at nearby food stalls, wandering the empty fields at night, sharing laughter in places you had never thought to exist in before. wonbin was an indie photographer, as he told you one evening while leaning lazily against the shop's entrance. the first time he stepped into your store, he had only been looking for props—a handful of roses for a shoot he had planned.

he had shown you the final product days later, flipping his camera screen toward you. a woman in a long, wet red dress, her drenched hair clinging to her skin, lying across a stark white platform. her back arched dramatically, head and foot dangling off the edges, while the red rose wonbin had purchased rested between her fingers. the rest of the roses were scattered across the white floor, stark against the sterile background.

it fascinated you. his work had a distinct contrast—a clash between purity and chaos. his photographs weren't just beautiful; they carried raw intensity, an imperfect kind of allure that you found impossible to look away from.

one evening, as you sat together outside the flower shop, the cool night air wrapping around your skin, wonbin turned to you with an almost thoughtful expression.

"you know, you have a really pretty name," he said, breaking the quiet.

you glanced at him, brows slightly knitted. "i think it's awkward."

wonbin shook his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. "no, it's not." he paused for a second, then murmured it softly, as if testing the weight of it on his tongue. "sori."

the way he said it made your stomach flip, warmth creeping up your neck.

"heo sori," he repeated, his gaze lingering on you. "it suits you. so delicate."

you ducked your head, unable to fight the foolish grin spreading across your face. your feet swung gently off the edge of the bench, the fabric of your long skirt swaying with the movement.

"really?" you murmured, voice quieter than before. "thank you. i never really thought of that."

"it suits you because you have a beautiful sori too," he added, eyes still fixed on you. "your parents must have really loved each other."

you let out a lighthearted chuckle at his remark, shaking your head. "they really did."

"you’re lucky," wonbin said, leaning back against the shop wall, his gaze drifting toward the night sky. "and honestly, it shows. you look like… a flower that's been nurtured with love."

it wasn't arrogance that made you accept his words so easily. you had always known—deep down, you had been raised in warmth, surrounded by love that shaped you into the person you were. and the people around you saw it too.

at some point, the line between you and wonbin blurred. what started as friendly interactions turned into something far deeper. his compliments became softer, his gestures more intentional. he would brush stray strands of hair from your face, rest his head against your shoulder, squeeze your hand absentmindedly when he spoke. and you let yourself sink into it before the two of you finally stopped pretending. you became his, and he became yours.

wonbin was the first man to ever make your heart race like this. the first man you had ever liked so badly that it almost hurt.

you ignored the glaring differences between the two of you—the things that, in hindsight, had already set you up for ruin. you wanted a quiet, gentle, predictable life. wonbin lived for the moment, unbound, chasing inspiration wherever it led him. you were soft, and he was rough around the edges.

but you thought love was enough. you willed yourself to hold onto him despite the contrast, convincing yourself that love could smooth over the jagged parts. you traced your fingers over the roughness of his hands, knowing they were made for something different from your own. he did the same, taking your delicate hands in his, despite how fragile they felt in his grip.

neither of you fit together like a puzzle piece. your differences didn't blend in beautifully—rather, you clashed, burned, collided. because the truth was, you and wonbin weren’t like a flower and a sunlight, but rather a fire and gasoline.

it all started two weeks after you and wonbin became official. at first, everything was perfect. his attention, his warmth, the way he always found a way to make you feel like the center of his world. but it didn't take long before the cracks started showing. he was still sweet, still the man you fell for, but his priorities were clear. and sometimes, you weren't one of them.

wonbin had a habit of leaving you waiting. always caught up in something, always running late, always with an excuse that somehow made sense but still hurt. you kept telling yourself it was normal. he had a career. he had a passion. you weren't supposed to be the reason he stopped doing what he loved. but at some point, it stopped feeling like an unfortunate side effect and started feeling like neglect.

like tonight. he promised to pick you up at seven for dinner. you stood by the old shed where he told you to wait, the glow of the streetlight casting long shadows around you. the air smelled like damp pavement, the distant scent of grilled meat from a street vendor nearby. you shifted your weight from one foot to another, hands gripping the strap of your bag, your phone growing heavier in your hand with every passing minute.

at first, you thought maybe he was just running late. he usually was. but when you finally glanced at your screen, it was nearly eight. almost an hour.

you bit your lip and tried calling him. the ringing stretched out painfully long before the other end picked up.

"sori? why are you calling?" wonbin's voice was distant and distracted, like he hadn't even thought about you until this very moment.

your fingers clenched around your phone. "wonbin, i've been waiting here for almost an hour already."

there was a pause. you could hear faint voices in the background, the clicking of a camera shutter, someone calling his name. he sighed heavily, and you could picture him rubbing his temple, eyes squeezed shut in frustration.

"shit… i lost track of time. i'm still in the middle of a shoot, baby. i'm sorry."

you sighed disappointedly. you closed your eyes, pressing your free hand to your temple. "what now?"

"just...just go back home, or grab dinner with your friend, uh… irina?"

you swallowed hard, your patience thinning by every second. "it's karina, wonbin."

"right, karina," he said quickly. "i'll make it up to you next time, okay?" another voice called for him in the background, and his words became rushed. "i gotta go, sori. i'll see you."

and then he hung up. no goodbye. no real apology. you stared at your screen, the call ending like a slap to the face.

this wasn't the first time, but something about tonight made it feel worse. before, he'd at least show up late, wind whipping through his hair as he pulled up on his motorcycle with a sheepish smile. or he'd call first to let you know he couldn't make it. but this time, you waited for nothing. and worse? he didn't even seem to remember.

the lump in your throat grew, but you swallowed it down. crying here wouldn't change anything. so you did what you always did—you found a way to justify it. he's busy. he's not doing this on purpose. it's not like you're his only priority.

but still, something about it made your chest ache in a way that was hard to ignore. instead of calling karina, because you knew exactly what she'd say, how she'd scold you for putting up with this. you went home.

after two hours of pacing around your apartment, forcing yourself to watch a show that you never really paid attention to, your phone rang. it's wonbin.

he said he was back at his apartment. that's all. no extra words, no real concern. no asking if how have you been after he just ditched you.

you messaged him you'd stop by since you were "on your way home from dinner with karina anyway." a complete lie.

and when you arrived, he greeted you with a tired smile, his hair slightly disheveled, hoodie hanging loosely around his torso. he pulled you in for a hug, but you stood stiff, arms locked at your sides. he leaned back slightly, his brows furrowing.

"something wrong, hm?" he squeezed your arms, his voice was gentle, his eyes so pretty it almost made you forget why you were angry.

you inhaled sharply. "something wrong? wonbin, do you—" you stopped, pressing your lips together before shaking your head. "do you even know how long i waited? and how you just handled the situation?"

his hands fell from your arms as he sighed, rubbing his face. "sori, lost track of time. i was in the middle of a shoot."

"you always lose track of time," you shot back, your throat tightening. "every time we make plans."

wonbin exhaled, arms spreading slightly in frustration. "it's just for today. i still pick you up most of the time, don't i?"

you let out a bitter laugh. "right. because your photos are more important than me."

his jaw tensed. "it's not like that. i love what i do, sori. i wish you could understand that—"

"but what about me?" your voice cracked slightly, your hands clenching at your sides. "i understand you. but do you even try to understand me? do you even love me the way you love your work? do you even respect me?"

the words hung in the air, sharp and heavy. wonbin's expression flickered into something between guilt and frustration.

"i do respect your time and effort," he said, but there was no sincerity behind it. he just wanted the argument to end.

"then show me." you spoke.

his silence said enough. wonbin ran a hand through his hair, huffing before turning away. "god you're making a big fuss over everything," he muttered, disappearing into his bedroom without another word.

and that was it. no apology again. no attempt to fix things. just him brushing you off like this wasn't worth discussing.

your chest felt hollow as you stood there, staring at his closed door. you didn't waste another second, so you grabbed your things and left, your footsteps echoing in dim stairs. the air outside was colder than before, the city streets eerily empty as you walked home, ten long minutes with nothing but your own thoughts.

you had expected warmth, an apology, maybe even him making you ramen in his small kitchen to make it up to you. instead, you got this.

the next morning came with the usual silence that always followed your fights with wonbin. no good morning texts. no missed calls. no unread messages waiting for you when you woke up. just a blank, empty screen that only made the weight in your chest heavier.

you lay in bed for a while, staring at the ceiling, willing yourself not to check your phone. it wasn't like you hadn't done this before—waiting for him to come around, waiting for him to care enough to fix things. but this time, you felt exhausted.

by evening, the familiar beep of your apartment door unlocking echoed through the quiet space. you barely flinched. you knew who it was even before you heard the soft thud of sneakers against your wooden floors. aside from karina, who was working at the bar tonight, wonbin was the only person who had your passcode.

a deep sigh filled the room, barely audible over the noise of the tv in the background. "baby..." wonbin's voice was careful as he made his way toward the couch. you remained curled up, your back to him, phone in hand, scrolling mindlessly through posts you weren't really reading. "still mad at me?" he spoke again.

you could feel his presence hovering behind you, the warmth of his body just within reach. but you didn't budge. didn't acknowledge him. your fingers lazily swiped up on your screen.

wonbin shifted, then leaned down,gently pulling the phone from your hands. the sudden emptiness made your fingers curl slightly, like they were still expecting to hold something. you exhaled through your nose, rolling onto your back just enough to throw him an unimpressed glance.

"hey," he murmured, sitting down beside you. his eyes searched yours, head tilting slightly as if trying to read your mood. "come on. talk to me."

a bitter chuckle left your lips as you sat up, rubbing your temples. "talk to you?" your voice was quiet but laced with irritation. "you shut me out last night, wonbin. and now i'm the one who's supposed to talk to you?"

your words landed harder than expected, because for once, wonbin actually looked taken aback. his shoulders tensed, brows knitting together. "what's with the sudden tone?" he scoffed, his voice still calm but sharp. "what happened to you?"

of course. it always had to be about you, didn't it? as if you were the one overreacting. as if you were the one making things difficult. you sighed, shaking your head as you stood up, walking past him toward your bed. the exhaustion was clinging into your bones, weighing you down more than it ever had before.

"i can't deal with this right now," you muttered. climbing onto the bed, pulling a pillow close, letting it absorb the frustration you weren't willing to show directly on him.

a moment of silence stilled between you two. then, the bed dipped as wonbin sat on the edge, his hand finding your hip. his touch was light, and hesitant, as if he was testing the waters before pushing any further.

"come on," he coaxed. "let's go out."

there it was again. that voice. that infuriatingly gentle, disarming tone he always used whenever he wanted to smooth things over without actually fixing anything. it was a routine by now—he'd show up, speak in that voice, and you'd melt, as if all the nights spent waiting, all the times he brushed you aside, meant nothing. because he knew, didn't he? he knew exactly what he was doing. knew that all it took was a couple of well-placed words, a lingering touch, and you'd fold. just like you always did.

you clenched your jaw, willing yourself not to give in so easily this time. but it didn't take long. three pleases. that was all it took. and then you were rolling onto your back, exhaling through your nose as you looked up at him, lips pressed into a thin line. his eyes were locked onto yours, hopeful.

"alright," you murmured as you sat up, hands clasped together in your lap, fingers fidgeting as you avoided his gaze.

━━━

that evening with wonbin went exactly like you expected. both of you walked out of your apartment, the cool evening air gently brushing against your skin as you made your way down the quiet block. the streetlights flickering by the sidewalk. you stopped by a small convenience store on the corner as you stepped inside to grab some ice cream. vanilla for you, chocolate for him, and after paying, you stepped back out into the night. the air was peaceful, leaving a lightness between the two of you. the weight of the problems you both had yet to talk about seemed to vanish, buried under the moment.

"hey, you know, i think black hair would suit you more," you said, breaking the silence as you licked the smooth vanilla ice cream, glancing at him.

wonbin turned his head toward you, "really? some of my models and co-photographers tell me that blonde suits me more," he replied casually, the chocolate ice cream in his hand now slightly melting as he bites the cone. he didn't seem offended or taken aback, just genuinely curious.

you pursed your lips, tapping the side of your ice cream cone thoughtfully. "your models?" you asked, trying to sound casual but wondering if you had just thrown something odd into the conversation. "well, it's just my opinion," you added, shrugging lightly, as if it didn't matter much at all.

wonbin nodded, not pressing the issue. his gaze returned to the quiet street ahead of you both. and after a minute of walking, he spoke again, the soft sound of his voice breaking through the quiet.

"i'll walk you home now. i have to be home too in a minute," he said, giving you a small smile as he slowed his pace to match yours.

you nodded in response. the walk back was comfortable, neither of you rushing, just enjoying each other's company as the streets grew quieter. when you reached your apartment, you shared one last hug and kiss before parting ways. for a moment, everything felt right again, as if the tension from the yesterday had been resolved completely without actually fixing it.

for the next weeks, there were no arguments, no silences stretching too long. everything seemed to fall back into place, and you thought, maybe, nothing would go wrong. maybe things would stay like this, just the two of you, content and untroubled.

but that all changed in one specific day. you were sitting at your vanity, freshly washed hair still damp and tangled from the shower. the soft, wet strands clung to your skin as you picked up the blow dryer, the whirring sound filling the room as you began drying your hair carefully.

then, the phone rang. your hands freezing mid-motion as you saw his name on the screen—wonbin.

you smiled a little, wiping your hands dry on a towel before answering the phone. "hello? bin? you're early today," you said, holding the phone to your ear while you flipped your hair to the side, trying to keep it from getting wet.

"good morning, sori," his voice came through, groggy from sleep but still audible, making you smile even more. "yeah, i managed to wake up early today. i know you'll be getting ready for work soon, so i wanted to call first."

"really? you never really wake up early just to call me before work," you teased lightly, pressing the phone against your shoulder as you picked up the blow dryer.

you could hear wonbin laugh softly on the other end, the sound of his chuckle making you grin. "happy birthday, lovely," he said, his voice somehow even more tender than before.

you thought for a moment, the words barely processing as you glanced across the room at the calendar. july 15th- your birthday. you hadn't even realized until now. it wasn't until you heard him say it that it truly clicked in your mind.

"thank you, bin," you said, a wide smile stretching across your face. you could almost feel his smile through the phone.

"i'll pick you up in an hour. get ready, we'll go out," wonbin added.

your smile faltered for just a second, only because you couldn't shake the feeling that something could go wrong. you had been let down before. sometimes he'd leave you waiting, sometimes he'd cancel at the last minute after you'd already gotten ready. but today, something about the way he said it made you believe he meant it.

you hesitated, but not for long. "mhm," you hummed in response, nodding as if he could see you. "but i need to be at the flower shop this morning." you added.

wonbin's voice softened, coaxing you gently. "take the day off, sori. it's your birthday. i'll pick you up, and we'll spend the day together."

you could never say no to him, and you knew it. that was always the hardest part. "okay," you said, letting out a small exhale. "i'll ask my co-worker if she can cover for me."

"good," he said, sounding pleased. "i'll be ready. you should be too."

your coworker, as always, was more than understanding, agreeing to cover your shift for the day and even wishing you a happy birthday. you smiled to yourself as you hung up the phone.

you took your time getting ready, applying just the right amount of makeup, and letting your long hair fall naturally, though you braided it to keep it from getting too messy. you slipped into your favorite baby blue sundress, the fabric light against your skin. after checking the time, you realized it was almost time to go, so you sat and waited.

your phone then buzzed, interrupting your thoughts. it was a message from wonbin: "i'm here, let's go?"

you smiled, your heart fluttering in your chest. for once, he was actually on time, and that was enough to make you smile. bare minimum. you grabbed your bag from the rack by the door and hurried down the stairs. as you stepped out, you saw him standing there by his motorcycle, his black helmet in hand, looking just as neat and put together as always.

"so pretty," he said, a soft smile on his face as he reached forward to give you a gentle peck on your cheek. he even wore that gray hoodie you once said looked good on him,

your smile widened, the simple gesture making your heart race in your chest. "flattery," you teased, "where are we going anyway?"

"wherever you want," he said, his voice full of warmth, as if he truly didn't mind, as if this day was for you.

you raised an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth curving "let's just go anywhere, then eat afterward."

━━━

you both went to the amusement park, just minutes ride away from the city. it was your idea, and he agreed without hesitation

the weather was perfect—clear skies, cool breeze brushing past your cheeks as you both wandered through the crowd. you held onto his arm as you moved from ride to ride, your fingers gripping him a little tighter after each attraction. on the ferris wheel, you leaned against him, the wind blowing through your hair as you snapped selfies and candids.

you both nearly lost your lungs at the drop tower, screaming into the open air, legs trembling when you stumbled off. and then he pulled you toward the booth where you both tried the shooting game—plastic rifles and rubber bullets. wonbin didn’t even try hard. he just aimed, casually pulling the trigger like it was second nature. bullseye. every time. you clapped and jumped enthusiastically while he exchanged his tickets for two plushies—a pink bear for you, and a cat for himself. he carried them under one arm all the way to the restaurant nearby.

you were still grinning when you both sat down for lunch. "i had so much fun, bin. thank you," you said, eyes on him as he took a bite of the food you ordered together.

he smiled, chewing and swallowing before speaking. "of course. it's your day today. i only wanted to make you happy." he said it like breathing. as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. like making you happy was something built into his system.

you stared at him for a few seconds—completely quiet, cheeks flushed, heart stupidly full. so smitten. so deeply in love, it made your chest hurt. you chuckled under your breath and looked away, stabbing your food with your chopsticks.

a few minutes passed in peace. you sipped your drink. he checked his camera roll, reviewing photos from earlier. everything felt so easy—until his phone rang.

you watched him pick it up without hesitation. "hello? bora?" he said.

your ears twitched at the name. you couldn’t hear the girl on the other end, but you watched his expression closely. he smiled, eyes lit up in a way you hadn't seen since you two sat on the ferris wheel.

"really? well, it's okay. i'm in a lunch today anyways, and i think i'll be late as well. i'll just catch up later," he said, still not looking at you. then he hung up and placed his phone down like nothing happened, grabbing his chopsticks again.

you blinked. your appetite slipped. you forced yourself to stay still, fingers tightening around your cup. why didn't he say he was on a date? why just 'lunch'? and what did he mean he'll be late 'as well'?

your thoughts spiraled. your stomach twisted. you wanted to speak, but part of you wanted to see if he'd notice the shift in your mood first. and of course, he didn't.

"bora?" you finally asked, trying to sound casual, spinning your chopsticks in your noodles.

"mhm, my model," he replied, smiling. "she'll be modelling for the photo i'm submitting for the annual exhibition in the city."

you nodded slowly, eyes on your food. then you sighed, a little sharper than intended. "she must be really pretty then... to be picked for a big event like that," you said, forcing a smile, but your voice had dropped—flat, dull, slightly sarcastic.

wonbin paused, finally picking up the change in your tone, but he just brushed it off. "yeah, she is," he replied without a hesitation.

and that was it. your appetite vanished completely. your heart, previously full, now felt tight and heavy. you set your chopsticks down on the edge of your plate. the room felt smaller now, more suffocating. he always did this. always made you feel like you were overthinking—when really, you were just feeling too much.

"you finished?" wonbin asked, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

you hummed a dull response and stood up, flashing him a weak smirk—more muscle memory than sincerity. you didn't wait. you turned around and walked out of the restaurant, letting the door swing behind you.

he rushed to settle the bill, stuffing cash into the little black folder before chasing after you. he caught up quickly, grabbing your arm gently but firm.

"hey, what's going on?" he asked, his voice not angry, just tired.

you turned to him, eyes weary. "nothing's wrong, wonbin," you mumbled.

he let go of your arm, exhaling hard. he ran a hand through his hair, his expression slowly changing.

"sori, don't throw a tantrum here right now, could you?" he muttered, voice edged with irritation. "come on. i'l send you home."

you stared at him, stunned by how quickly his mood shifted. you opened your mouth to argue—but what was the point? he was already walking toward the motorcycle.

the ride home was silent. cold wind hitting your face. you clutched the paper bag with the plushies tightly against your chest, blinking away the sting behind your eyes.

it was only 2 pm when he dropped you off in front of your apartment building. no words. just a quiet nod. then he rode off without even waiting for you to say goodbye.

you stood there for a moment, the bag dangled from your fingers, the weight of the stuffed toys suddenly feeling too heavy. you watched his motorcycle disappear down the road.

you looked down at your hand. and then—you felt bad.

the date wasn't supposed to end this way. you replayed it all in your head. the laughter, the pictures, the rides. you felt like you ruined it. if i hadn't acted like that… if i just kept smiling… maybe he wouldn’t have gotten so cold. maybe we’d still be walking around the park right now.

but no matter how hard you try, you always manage to press that invisible switch in him. the one that turns off everything sweet. the one that makes him say things like "don't throw a tantrum." the one that makes you feel too much—and him, not enough.

then, you heard the rustling of plastic a few steps away. behind the corner, karina appeared. her brows immediately furrowing, pace quickening as soon as she spotted you standing there alone with a paper bag in hand, looking like all the color had been drained from your day.

"sori? you okay?" she asked, voice gentle as her hands settled on your shoulders. "where are you going?"

"where did i went, you mean," you replied tiredly, slumping slightly into her touch. "and no, i don't feel okay."

karina didn't need more than that. she'd seen this version of you too many times—shoulders drooped, voice dimmed, hurt tucked just behind your eyes. she didn't ask for context. just the details. "come on. let's go. i know a place."

she nudged you gently as you both headed down the street. the grill eatery she led you to was a little cramped, but buzzing with life. normally packed with groups drinking at night, but this time of day with the sun still high made it quieter. a few tables filled with people casually eating lunch.

karina didn't even hesitate as she ordered a bottle of soju.

"the sun hasn't even set yet," you chuckled, watching her crack it open as the server lit the grill between you.

"any time of the day is perfect if you're miserable enough," she smiled, pouring into your glass.

you let out a breath. not quite a laugh, but close. karina started grilling pork slices, her focus split between you and the sizzling meat.

"so, tell me about it." she spoke

you sighed, your eyes on the raw meat slowly changing color in the heat. "wonbin..." you muttered.

"of course," karina said dryly, rolling her eyes. you let out a small laugh, but your lips trembled.

"it was going well," you began. "like... actually well. he picked me up, wore the hoodie i liked. laughed at my stupid jokes. we screamed together on the drop tower. i took photos of him smiling..."

you paused, lifting the shot glass she poured earlier and downing it in one go.

"and then... some woman called. bora."

karina's hand froze for half a second above the grill, tension rising in her jaw, but she said nothing—just listened.

"he told her he was 'at lunch.' that he might be late too. like it wasn't a date. like i wasn't right there in front of him. and he smiled when he said her name. it was so annoying."

you sniffled lightly, wiping your cheek before anything could fall. the grill popped in front of you.

"i asked if she was pretty. and he just said 'yeah, she is.' so casually. like it didn't even cross his mind how that might make me feel."

karina's expression twisted, irritation flickering through her gaze. she slammed the tongs a little harder on the table. "what a prick."

you cracked a bitter laugh, but your voice wavered halfway through. "then i got upset, and he said i was throwing a tantrum. like i was just some clingy girl being dramatic in public."

the words sat heavy in the air between you.

"and i felt bad," you added quietly. "i still feel bad. like i ruined it. like maybe i should've just smiled through it because what if i was overreacting?"

karina leaned in, her arms resting on the table, eyes locked on yours.

"sori," she spoke, "you didn't ruin anything. you reacted like a human being. he's the one who's emotionally numb."

you looked down at your lap, fingers fumbling with your napkin. "he always does this," you mumbled. "and i always let him. he loves his job... and i'm ruining it for him."

karina didn't reply right away. she just stared at you, that familiar mixture of frustration and helplessness brewing in her chest. she'd heard this before—too many times. and every time, she told you the same thing: that you weren't overreacting. that he was in the wrong. but no matter how many times she said it, you were already too deep in the comfort of the pain to believe it.

karina just hoped that someday you'd finally snap. before the hurt grew into something even worse.

"come on," she said after a beat, her voice softening again. "let's just enjoy this. i'll call some of my friends from the bar."

"the ones from last time?" you asked, a small smile beginning to tug at the corner of your lips.

"mhm, you knew them. do you want them to come?"

"of course. they're pretty chill."

karina reached over and wrapped a grilled piece of pork in lettuce, adding garlic and sauce before lifting it toward you. "happy birthday, pretty," she said with a grin.

you smiled back, opening your mouth to take the bite. the warm flavor hit your tongue, grounding you a little more. for a second, the heaviness eased off your chest.

the rest of karina's friends arrived shortly after, greeting you with warmth that effortlessly lifted the mood. the earlier tension with wonbin began to dissolve, buried under the laughter and clinking of glasses. by the time the clock hit 7 pm, you were already buzzed. almost wasted while karina and the others, seasoned bar employees, were still going strong.

"i'll send you home, sori," karina said as she stood up, walking over to your side and patting your back. her cheeks were flushed from the alcohol, but she still held herself together.

you shook your head, your hand clumsily waving her off. "no–no... i'm fine."

karina let out a sigh and glanced at one of her friends—eunseok. "can i borrow your car?"

eunseok shook his head. he hadn't touched alcohol since arriving, sticking to soda while joining in on the fun. he was the only one there who was completely sober.

"you've still had drinks, karina. i can take her home," eunseok offered, rising from his seat as you swayed. karina instinctively reached out to steady you, her hands gripping your shoulders to keep you from slumping onto the table.

"okay, but please... keep her safe. i'll damn you if anything happens," she warned with a hiss.

eunseok only chuckled, unfazed. "don't worry."

he gently slipped your arms over his shoulders, supporting you while keeping a respectful distance as he nodded at karina. "i'll be back right away."

outside, he helped you into the backseat of his car, sending a quick message to karina before driving toward your apartment.

the car ride was quiet. you and eunseok weren't exactly close, but he wasn't a stranger either. before you knew wonbin, you had already known him as you frequently visited karina in her workplace that lead you to meeting everyone from there, exchanging few small nods and talks occasionally.

"i haven't properly greeted you yet," he said, glancing at you through the rearview mirror. "happy birthday, sori."

you weren't completely drunk, just floating in that fuzzy limbo, so you understood him clearly. "thank you," you murmured with a small smile. and that was the end of the conversation.

once parked, he helped you to the front door of your apartment building. "will you be okay here? or should i take you upstairs? just give me your permission."

your head lolled a little, but you managed to shake it. "no... i'll be okay."

he hesitated, clearly wanting to argue, but didn't insist further. "alright. be careful, then."

you nodded as he handed you over to the wall for support. he lingered by the glass door, watching you ascend until you disappeared from view. only then did he turn around to head back to his car.

but just as he turned the corner, he bumped into wonbin.

they exchanged a long, narrow glance before eunseok moved on, slipping into his car without a word. wonbin stood still, his eyes following the departing vehicle before he walked toward your building.

you had collapsed onto your bed the moment you got home, still wearing your sandals, when the sound of the door beeping open made you sit up groggily. you rubbed your temple and looked toward the source—wonbin.

your state was disheveled, to say the least. the braid in your hair were undone, strands sticking to the sides of your face. the strap of your sundress dangled loosely off one shoulder, and your eyes, heavy-lidded and tired—barely lifted as he walked towards you.

"what are you doing here?" you mumbled, rubbing your temple as you slowly stood up, your head still spinning.

he stood still by the wall, arms crossed. "did you drink?" his eyes narrowed, tone sharp.

you scoffed, still calm but slightly defensive. "what's it to you?"

"i'm your boyfriend, sori. that makes it my business too." he replied, trying to keep his voice steady, but there was tension there—growing.

realizing he had a point, you just shook your head with a faint sigh. "it was karina's treat. and it's my birthday too, remember?" your voice was tinged with disappointment.

"i'm aware," he said, scoffing under his breath. "but you could've just told me."

that stopped you in your tracks. your eyes met his, dulled by alcohol but suddenly clear enough to process hurt.

"told you?" you repeated, a bitter laugh escaping you. "wonbin... you never—" you caught yourself, words cutting mid-sentence.

you wanted to yell. to ask him why you always felt like a stranger to the parts of him you couldn't reach. why he knew everyone in your life, but you knew no one in his. why he demanded your life but gave you nothing back. why it always felt like you were in a one-sided story.

but the words never made it out. you bit your lip, gaze falling to the floor, chest aching from the weight of everything left unsaid. "i... i'm sorry."

"i never what?" he asked, his voice low, but the challenge in it made your heart race in tension.

you stepped closer, reaching for him. your hands gently touched his shoulders, trying to hold onto the pieces before they fell apart.

"i'm sorry, bin," you whispered, your voice barely holding together.

he looked at you—at your trembling lips, your pleading eyes before peeling your hands away from him.

"and you didn't even call me?" his voice cracked as frustration spilled over. "you asked that eunseok guy to drive you home?!"

"i didn't ask him—" you whined in defense.

"sure you didn't," he snapped, cutting you off. "what, was it because he's got a nice car? a stable job? huh? you didn't want to deal with my motorcycle and my mess of a life?"

each word hit harder than the last, and you felt something crumble inside. his accusations weren't just painful—they were unfair.

"what are you even saying, wonbin?" your voice broke as the first tear slid down your cheek. "it's not like that."

you reached out to hug him, to calm him, but he stood stiff and cold. but then—you smelled something that made you slowly shift on your foot backwards. a scent that didn't belong to him.

the crying stopped, your hands dropped from him slowly, and you stepped back fully, eyes narrowing as the reality clicked in. it wasn't his cologne. it was something sweet.

"wonbin..." you said quietly, trying to keep your voice from trembling. "whose perfume is that?"

he looked confused at first. then he lifted his shirt slightly and sniffed. his eyes fell shut.

"sori... you're drunk."

"park wonbin," you said firmly, louder now. "don't. don't brush it off again like you always do."

your fingers trembled as you pointed at him. "whose. perfume. is. that?"

the lavender perfume clung to him. strong, unfamiliar, and foreign. something you hate, something you wouldn't wear.

wonbin didn't answer right away. his eyes flicked to the side, jaw clenched tight like he was trying to calculate the least damaging version of the truth. but the silence between you screamed louder than anything.

"i asked you a question," you said, voice cracking, more stable than before but your trembling hands and unsteady knees gave you up.

he exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. "it's no one."

"don't lie to me."

"it's not like that," he replied, quieter now, but hesitant. "i ran into someone. she hugged me, that's all."

"someone?" the word felt like it knocked the air out of your chest. "who? and why would she hug you, wonbin?"

he didn't answer. his eyes glistened—almost teary, almost like he wanted to say something but couldn't.

"i see," you said faintly, stepping back, trying to put space between you and the ache in your chest. "so i'm the problem for getting a ride home when you're out smelling like someone else's lavender perfume?"

"it's not like that," he repeated, more agitated now. "you're twisting it."

"am i?" your voice sharpened. "then explain it to me, wonbin. for once. just once. because all i've done is give and give and give myself to you while you keep every part of your life locked away from me."

"you're being so dramatic," he muttered under his breath.

"of course!" you sarcastically laughed. "i always am, am i?"

that made him freeze. he didn't say anything, just looking away as he listened.

"you knew it was my birthday. you knew i felt off when that model called you—and you said nothing. you dropped me off in front of my building like we were nothing. no message. no call. just silence. and now you show up angry at me for getting a ride from a friend while you reek of someone else's perfume?" you were shaking again, eyes shimmering, but the tears didn’t fall. not yet. "we fight all the time, wonbin. we don't understand each other anymore..."

you sobbed. sniffling, brushing your nose with your knuckles before proceeding,

"so tell me... do you still even want to be with me?"

he looked stunned. not because the question was unexpected, but because, maybe, he didn't know the answer.

"you're making it so hard, sori," he whispered, turning his back on you. he rubbed his forehead, fingers slipping into his hair like he could pull the tension out.

"is it only me, then?" you asked, voice fragile as a glass breaking. you sat down on the edge of the bed, slumping as the pressure in your chest pressed down more. "do you still even have the patience to be with me?"

"i don't know." the words left his mouth coldly. blank and emotionless.

you let out a quiet, shaky breath. that was all you needed to hear. "then leave, wonbin," you firmly stated. "come back only if you do."

you stared down at the floor, refusing to look at him. not because you didn't want to see him go, but because if you did, you knew you'd break.

━━━

for two weeks, it felt like you and wonbin had broken up without a word. he hadn't called, messaged, or updated anything on social media. it was like he vanished, and every day you felt like you were crumbling. at work, your energy was so drained that even the plants you touched seemed to wither. your co-worker noticed first, offering gentle concern. karina, predictably, was furious when you told her what happened.

you were tired of waiting. tired of the silence. so one evening, after your shift, you decided to visit him hoping that time had cooled things down enough to talk again.

his building hadn’t changed. still looked like it was falling apart, no security pin at the entrance, the staircase was dim, the bulbs flickering like they were clinging to life. cemented steps, unpainted and rough. you remembered how scared you were the first time you came here. now it just felt sad.

at his door, you knocked. no answer. you tried again, calling out softly, "wonbin? it's me..."

still nothing.

you hesitated before pulling out the spare key he gave you. when the door creaked open, a wave of stale alcohol hit you. the living room was a mess—empty bottles scattered, clothes thrown across the floor. and no sign of him.

you cleaned up a little before deciding to check his studio, thinking maybe he was there, trying to focus on work. the walk was short, but your stomach churned with something strange.

you reached the small building, pushed through the glass door, and stepped into the hallway. his was the second room. you raised a hand to knock but your instinct stopped you. instead, you quietly twisted the doorknob and pushed it open.

dim light spilled out, revealing the sofa and the white photography panels.

and there he was—wonbin. slumped on the couch, visibly drunk.

but what made your hands tremble wasn't him.

it was the woman.

clinging to him, straddled on his lap, long hair falling over one shoulder, red lipstick smudged, dressed like she just stepped out of a fashion shoot.

your entire body locked up. your brows furrowed sharply in disbelief, lips parting with a soundless gasp as tears instantly welled up in your eyes. your throat closed up and burned, your jaw trembling as if it couldn't decide whether to drop or grit shut. you blinked once, twice, hoping the sight would change, but it didn't. your knees buckled slightly, forcing you to brace yourself against the doorframe.

you stumbled back, shoulder hitting the metal frame with a soft thud. the noise made her look up.

she didn't recognize you. her expression shifted briefly before she offered a small, awkward smile. "oh- hi, sorry for the awkward sight." she casually said with a chuckle that threw you off, sliding off him like it was no big deal.

wonbin didn't move at first. he sat forward, leaning on his knees like he didn't even notice your presence.

you stood frozen, breathing shallowly. your face crumbled further—eyebrows now drawn together in pain, mouth trembling as you tried to hold back the sob threatening to slip. you didn't know where to look—at her, at him, or at the floor that seemed like it might open up and swallow you whole. you could feel every blood vessel in your face pulsing, heat crawling up your neck, but your skin was cold.

the woman glanced at him, then back at you. "uh... bin? you've got a guest. i think it's one of your models?"

and that's when he finally turned around. when his eyes landed on you, on your stunned, broken expression, it's like he instantly woke up from his dazed state.

"sori..." he rushed over the sofa the moment he saw you, reaching out but you were already turning away, storming out of the studio on instinct. you didn't think. you just ran down the steps, past the flickering hallway lights, into the street. you didn't look back. you didn't care if he followed.

your long skirt caught your ankle, almost sending you tumbling, but then, his hand caught your waist.

you jolted, instantly flinching and shoving him away with force.

"wonbin..." you muttered, barely getting his name out as your chest rose and fell erratically, your whole body shaking. the ache in your chest was unbearable, like your ribs were folding inward.

"sori, what are you doing here?" he asked, running a hand through his hair in frustration, as if you were the one who barged into something wrong.

that was it. that line snapped something inside you. your blank expression cracked, lips curling into a trembling scoff before a bitter, sarcastic laugh broke free from your throat—choked and ugly. "to see you, wonbin. to talk to you. to fix things with you. something you couldn’t even bother to do!" your voice cracked, convulsing with fury and grief. "who is she...?"

his face shifted, expression softening like it was supposed to matter now. he reached for your hand, but you quickly stepped back, avoiding him like he burned.

"who—" your voice raised slightly. "who is she?"

"you got it wrong, bab—"

"don't." you shook your head, voice raw. "don't fucking call me that."

his mouth fell slightly open, tears starting to well up in his eyes now. but when yours met his, everything crumbled. it was game over.

you stumbled back and leaned against the nearest post, sliding to the ground, your head bowing down as sobs shook through you. you curled in on yourself, arms over your knees, gasping between cries.

"wonbin... how could you—" your voice cracked again, throat closing up.

he stood in front of you, motionless, his expression hurting.

"how could you just disappear..." your voice hitched, "and cheat on me behind my back..."

and just saying it—just hearing yourself say it out loud made it feel real. too real that you broke again, completely this time, sobbing harder as the weight of everything collapsed on your chest like bricks.

you don't know how long you sat there crying, but your lungs burned, and your throat felt like it had been scraped raw. wonbin stood just a few feet away, but he still didn't move. didn't kneel. didn't say anything like the coward he was. just stood there. watching, like he didn't know what to do with you. like he never knew.

that silence—it made something twist violently inside you. a final crack in the dam holding everything in.

"what happened to us?" you wiped your tears with the back of your hand and slowly looked up at him, eyes swollen, voice shaking. "you never really cared about me, did you?"

he blinked, startled. "what are you talking about? of course i did—"

"no, wonbin," you cut him off, voice firm now, all the shaking replaced by a quiet rage. "you loved me, maybe. in the way you could. but i was never part of your plans. i was never part of your future. i don't think i ever even made it to your present."

he looked like he wanted to interrupt, but you didn't let him.

"you made me feel like i was always chasing you. like i was some afterthought you occasionally remembered. i waited, and waited—for texts, for calls, for some sign that i mattered. you knew how much i was hurting, and you ignored it every time."

you stood now, trying to steady your breath, even as your voice shook again. "i came last, in everything. behind your art, your friends, your work, your silence. i loved you so much i lost pieces of myself trying to believe i mattered to you. trying to believe i can smooth off your jagged edges."

wonbin looked down at the ground. his fists clenched.

"i can't do it anymore," you said, softly. "i can't keep forcing myself into your carefree life. i can't keep begging for a love that doesn't see me. i want to break up."

he looked up sharply. "no. no, wait, sori—"

"i mean it." you didn't let your voice falter. "we're not good for each other, and you know that. we're just too infatuated of the good times to admit it, but during times like these, it's on plain sight."

he stepped back like you slapped him, jaw tightening. "so that's it?"

you stared at him, blinking back the last of your tears. "yeah. that's it."

"fine," he snapped, voice low and sharp like glass. "let's end this."

he didn't wait for your response, but you didn't care because there's no more to talk about.

he turned around and walked back toward the building without another word. no glance. no pause. just his back getting smaller and smaller until the door swallowed him whole.

you stood alone in the middle of the street, your tears drying cold on your skin. the silence wrapped around you again, not from neglect this time—but from the absence of something that was never really yours to begin with, and you don't know what your life will be now that wonbin had already left traces of him in you.

[ghasel]

ADVICE FROM WONDERLAND 🐰🫖🐛

Hello! In this reading we will receive advice using the Alice in Wonderland oracle! There will be one tarot card to see which topic we're receiving the advice about, it will also be your double check of the pile: if you find yourself in this situation, it's officially your pile!

How to use this reading: pick the pile that attracts you from the photo (more than one can attract you), then scroll down and read the correspondent reading

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[image description: the three piles, each with their respective number]

pile 1

[image description: pile 1 spread]

the topic: the emperor in reverse: letting go and not being in control all the time; either let someone else substitute you in a leadership role or let someone do something by themselves without checking in every second (examples that come to my mind: let your child dress themselves by themselves bc they asked to, not get a leadership position in a project but being peers with everyone else)

the advice: bill the lizard: to do everything all the time you need to be equipped; i think that the focus here is not much on someone else's independence as the reason for you to take a step back, but the fact that you can't humanly be prepared for everything and do everything all the time; it may be an alarm that you are going too close to a burnout and that you need time to re-equip yourself with the energy and the tools that you need, before jumping in action again; you are aiming for a high place, but you need to be prepared for all the steps to get there - and sometimes you may need a break between one and the next; i have the urge to tell you that stopping is not not caring about something, is not letting it go and whatever, but it's a symptom that you are thaking care also (rightfully) of yourself

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pile 2

[image description: pile 2 spread]

the topic: 8 of wands in reverse + 4 of coins: it feels like you are at a point in which you can't deny anymore that a cycle is repeating itself; you can't pretend not to see, or better, you could, but it would make the situation worse; in the 4 of coins there is a few runes and one is othila, linked to ancestral property, so it could be that this cycle that is repeating itself is linked to family issues

the advice: making use of ink: the first thing that came to my mind is very literal: journaling; i think, though, that in general the advice could be to express your feelings, in the way that you think it's the best (therapy, talking to a loved one, journaling); the important thing is that you do not keep everything bottled up, especially your fears, because seeing them black on white or having another perspective from another person may help you to see that they are not as huge as you thought they were; i want to point out that with journaling in this case i don't mean the pretty, aesthetic pages, but a stream of consciousness that let you get out everything you're botttling in

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pile 3

[image description: pile 3 spread]

the topic: knave of coins: beginning your independent life (aka, for example, living alone, starting a job in which you're the resonsible one, moving far from family); it can also be strictly about the economic part of living independently, but it can as well be the general thing, not related specifically to money or another specific thing; the knave represents a beginner and coins, with the element earth, earth life, so there is really this idea of a being a beginner in earth, independent life

the advice: the lobster quadrille: you feel like you're trying to dance that you don't know the steps of and you are probably looking up at someone that is not close to your position; i explain better: you may be looking up as ideals at people who are very experienced in independent life, who know what to do, when to do it and have basically an authomatic reflex for what they have to do (even in the simplest things like remembering to start the dishwasher, which days to put out the trash for collecting etc…); don't compare yourself to them because you are learning now what you have and need to do, so of course it doesn't come as natural as someone who has the habit of it; of course it feels a little bit messier, you are in the learning phase: when kids learn to eat they don't start from using fork and knife, but they start from making a mess everywhere and using their hands; you wouldn't expect them to be able to wrap spaghetti on a fork; in the same way, do not expect yourself to be an expert at independent life from day one and let youself take the time to learn what you need to learn and to emotionally and mentally adapt to your new reality

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