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theforlorn · 18 days

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Do you have any advice for systems who are finding out that their system may be programmed?

Coming to Terms With Being Programmed

When you first begin to realize that your system may indeed exist due to even more cruel and strenuous situations than is typical it can be incredibly stressful and terrifying. Realizing in the first place that you have DID or OSDD can be incredibly difficult and in some parts scary. Though many feel comfort and safety within their system including myself, the initial experience of discovery can be jarring. Realizing you had endured a continuous amount of trauma long enough in your childhood to develop these kinds of disorders can be incredibly scary to realize and it often comes with beginning to remember bits and pieces that makes you realize you had been believing a lie about your own past for possibly decades. When you add on top of that a realization that someone wanted this for you- someone actively went out of their way to induce dissociative amnesia and differing alters in order to take advantage of that and force you to do things for them, it can be overwhelming.

It's incredibly hard for a lot of people to finally come to terms with being a programmed system. It took me so much time and pain and tears to finally reach the stage of acceptance that I did. And even then I sometimes struggle with doubting myself, even when my therapist reaffirms the fact that my DID was purposefully induced in me by my traffickers given the way my system functions and alters exist specifically for my abusers own purposes and goals- I struggle.

I may not have all the answers but I do have some advice for people.

Advice For Not Fakeclaiming Yourself

This part is something that, as stated previously, I personally struggle with. And you know what? That's okay. These things are hard and it's okay to not fully be healed yet. In my case I am still very young and only a little over a year into therapy for my DID and trauma.

Remember that it isn't actually that crazy or unreasonable for someone engaging in more extreme levels of abuse to be aware of methods such as programming. Though programmed DID (aka a purposefully induced case of DID and/or OSDD-1) can only be induced in childhood, OSDD-2 is a dissociative disorder which is also known to be the result of programming aka brainwashing and torture. These things are well documented.

An unfortunately true fact of this all is that sometimes very bad people especially those involved in organized crimes or cults, tend to share information or learn about tactics from various places. The information on how to torture people and force children to develop DID is already out there- bad people can get ahold of it because they seek out these kinds of things.

You are not alone in this- there are others.

You are not taking away anything from other survivors of various situations by suspecting or believing that your own abusers engaged in similar methods and induced a specific dissociative disorder in you when they knew you could dissociate.

Advice For Acceptance Of What Happened

Acceptance is another key part in all of this, and it is once again a very difficult thing to achieve and hold.

It is okay to still love your system even if it comes from someone choosing to induce it. Alters can still grow and change it takes a lot of time.

It's just as okay to hate your system or alters in your system. Some alters can exist to do harm to yourself and self-destruct. Some may just be cruel or ruin your relationships and that can suck to deal with. Especially for systems where alters are created by an abuser- this can happen and you're not bad or evil for it. You're dealing with the fall outs of torture and that never is an easy thing to deal with.

As much as you may be permanently changed from what happened to you- you are still your own person. They can never take away the fact that you survived. You made it through despite everything and nobody can take that from you either.

Getting therapy if possible is definitely helpful and a great thing to do

In general having friends who know about some of what happened and what you're going through is helpful. It helps you still feel like even in the face of everything you still matter (because of course you do).

#cult survivor #trafficking survivor #ramcoa #ritual abuse tw #mind control tw #organized abuse tw #organized crime tw #purposefully induced DID #hc did #programmed did #programmed system

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fella-lovin-fella · 1 year

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i love living in America so much! im scared to go to the small pride gathering put on every year because it's in an open park and im worried i'll get shot down xoxo

#when i went to the organized #black lives matter #protest #im my town back in 2020 #there were people lining the streets with guns #around the same area the park is #so #not mlm #dantes talking again #tw shooting #tw terrorism #tw hate crime

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sqlmn · 9 months

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Seeing as the person who drew this for me and listens to me yell about these two and Rudyard is currently Illegal For Tumblr, I have been given permission to post this!

So a huge thank you I'm crying @ gunhorse ;0; my kids look great and I wuv them... I'm sobbing.

(And for those wondering, the agent named Bravo encounters Katale a fair amount though completely intentional from her. He thinks that she's just a very nice woman who got mixed up in the wrong crowd and she doesn't seem to wish him hard and he doesn't wish her harm so in the end when he sees her he's putting his gun away into a shoulder holster because he's a Good Boy.)

#two crime bosses and a very good boy #i had a different tag plotted for them but i have long since derailed lol #its now the katale show and she holds it all together so were scrapping the agent based title #also the names are clifford is the agent but he goes by bravo cause it summarizes his entire personality #bravo is the name of one of the 101 dalmatians in some iteration (thank you 101 dalmatian wiki)#b is for bravo as in code word and hes a spy slash agent #and also he is immensely weak to praise and bravo can be said to approve and praise #therefore its his whole personality bc mans a puppy #and also clifford (name suggested by gunhorse actually and im keeping it) bc big pubby and my childhood #also well known as clifford the big RED dog which is very fun bc the crime bosses are constantly wearing red #and they end up befriending the good little agent so him being a part of the red crew in name is a good thought uwu #and then katale meaning stronger than you is the woman and she is actually second in command by choice #she doesnt WANT to be number one she wants to have someone else do That Stuff #but shes known crime her whole life as she had multiple relatives in the crime organization #and then rudyard belzer the top dog now actually worked his way up from a henchman type status #and i love them all dearly #tw blood #long post #i forget if later tags are counted still and i will be so sad if they arent i just forgot ...#i wanted to talk about ocs so bad...#gift art

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system-of-a-feather · 10 months

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A thing that always sounds straight up edgy backstory that I forget is very much not "technically" true but just straight up true is that we come from organized crime backgrounds on both sides of my family. My mom was never involved, but she is PRETTY sure her dad was part of some sort of crime group and my dad himself was directly engaged in some sort of Indonesian corruption scheme - at least to the point that he was being actively bribed and had government permission to do illegal fishing or something of the sorts.

A lot of their stories are lost in translation because I'm pretty sure my dad has DID and my whole family has memory issues, plus my own, plus the fact that our parents rarely talk about their pasts outside of shouting matches at each other

But unironically I am 0-1 generations removed from organized crime on both ends. I say this not because that history directly is part of our trauma because we were never caught in organized crime ourselves - but it is really something I think that has been passed down like generational trauma within the way my family approaches things, life, one another, and the law in general.

#alter: riku #no reblogging in case I choose to delete but #feel free to comment or what not #organized crime #organized crime tw

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the-whumping-hour · 11 months

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June of Doom Day 2: “Get in” (Survivor’s Guilt / Salve)

CW: Gangs and gang violence, acute stress disorder, brief mentions of other mental illnesses, repeated dissociation, trauma aftermath, repeated references to past murder

Notes: All characters are roughly 18/19 here. Ayeli uses she/they pronouns. Of the mentioned-but-not-present characters, Dominic is the leader of the gang, and “Marcy” is Ayeli’s brother. This is another backstory piece (there may be a lot of these, this month, because I am trying to establish precedence for more writing on here), so take every bit of characterization with a grain of salt ;)

Tag List: @lektricwhump

***

He tells the story differently every time. Sometimes he heard the sound of the safety clicking off ahead of time, sometimes he dove to the ground, sometimes the bullet grazed him while shielding Emir as the other boy tried to crawl away from the line of fire.

Sometimes he doesn’t remember anything at all. That’s the most truthful retelling.

“Noah?” Ayeli's voice is soft at the door. He can picture her fingers poised on the doorknob, the way she would lean her forehead against the wood for a moment as if sending a prayer off for him.

“Come in.” Noah keeps his voice quiet, swallowing and pushing back the tears burning the corners of his eyes. They can’t know that he was crying again, they can’t see him like this. They wouldn’t ever be able to love him if they saw him like this. He doesn’t look up at the sound of their footfalls crossing the room, nor when the bed dips with their weight, when their arms wrap around him. The smell of gunpowder lingers in the air between them.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

There are no more words spoken between them for all the time it takes for him to get the confidence to wipe the faintest tear tracks away.

“Dominic got a jacket for you. Bit of a different make than mine, ‘cause apparently the guy who made them left the city last month, but it’s basically the same thing. You are the new generation, after all.” A hint of amusement lingers on her lips. He can almost see it.

“You’re what, half a year older than me?”

“Been in the gang longer though. I’ve got experience under my belt.” They squeeze his shoulder. “Come on. Dom’s gonna be pissed if another one of his new recruits gets depression.”

It had been less than a year since he left home. Less than a year and already he was one with the city, always dodging the bigger fish in the pond, laughing with his friends and clambering onto the top of trains to see who could write their name closest to the edge. He hadn’t thought that night would be different. Nothing was different except for the gunfire that followed.

“I found him!” Her carefree teasing is restrained, but not enough for Noah to not get butterflies. “Think he got lost.”

“In his own head, maybe.” Julian’s mouth is half-covered by his hand as the other one spins the tab on a can of soda. “Leave the boy alone, he’s been through a lot in the last two weeks.”

“Haven’t we all?” Ayeli bends a finger and suddenly the TV is turned on. “When did Dom say he wanted to meet up again?”

“Eighteen-thirty. We’re having a ceremony.” Julian’s fake jazz hands that accompany the word only add to the levels of other-ness that Noah’s been feeling in the past dozen days he’s been with the gang. He still pretends to not feel the way that Julian’s eyes often bore into the back of his head when he’s not looking. Ayeli says he has hypervigilance; Noah says he has creepy as f*ck disorder.

“Can you drive me to pick Marcy up from school first?”

The conversation drops out of Noah’s ears.

He remembers the pain, at least. The burning across the side of his arm, his feet forcing him still for only half a second before running, and there were screams around him and some of them were his own. He’d come back later to look at the bodies. To confirm what he already dreaded. In the moment, though, he didn’t know who it was, he didn’t know where he was going, he just knew he needed to leave.

He was the only one who survived.

“Hey, hey boy. Snap out of it.”

He’s seated on the couch now. Julian’s waving fingers in front of his face.

“Where is... what...”

“Sometimes that happens,” Ayeli’s next to him now, where did they come from, what? “You’re here. You’re here. Just dissociation.”

A jingle plays on the television. He feels like he’s floating.

“Hey, the three of us... we could make, like, a club. Weird trauma club.” Ayeli’s hand is back around his shoulders, and Julian’s wandered back to the floor. And Noah is here. He’s here.

And Ayeli keeps talking. “I’d be the leader. They say I got a complex stress disorder. It’s from all the—”

“Noah.” Julian cuts in abruptly. Noah’s almost thankful for it. “How’s your arm?”

“It’s... it’s feeling better.” The sting of the memory cuts through again. He can’t do this now, he’s here. “I think the stuff is working.”

“Good.” Julian stands up again now, walking over to the kitchen. “I’m gonna reapply it. Allie, get me a new bandage.”

The use of a nickname almost angers Noah. Almost. They’re friends, they’ve been through so much, it makes sense. But he’ll never be like that. He’ll always be the ‘new recruit’ until the next kid comes along. It’s awful. He has no one.

He had them before. But now they’re dead.

He was hiding in a dumpster when they found him. It was some territorial attack, they said, it wasn’t personal. And of course it wasn’t personal. He’d never hurt anyone, not for real. They were scouting out the damage, trying to plan retaliation. He just happened to be in the middle. They offered him a place, but he would be just another member, just a new recruit.

He accepted.

“Good Kings, kid, reposition yourself—”

“Julie, be nice to him. He keeps zoning out.”

“Well it’s not my fault.”

Noah is here. He’s here, he’s back, he’s here.

The salve burns on his arm.

“We’ve got you, Noah. We’ve got you.” Her voice is soft like her hands are. She begins neatly wrapping a fresh bandage. “You wanna go back upstairs now? Dominic told us not to overwhelm you too much. You should feel better in a few weeks.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure. Thanks.” His voice sounds hollow as they pull his shirt sleeve back down. Julian pats his shoulder.

“You need anything, just let us know, ‘kay? We’re here for you.”

Here for him. They’re here for him.

They might be the only ones.

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shoechoe · 1 year

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this is what so much diavolo analysis/theorizing is like i swear

#rambles #ugh. sorry guys this is a bit of a rant #i will never forget the ''did dia deserve infinite death'' video i watched that immediately went to #''he had a split personality and therefore was clinically insane and unable to comprehend any of his actions''#hmm yes. the extremely powerful and meticulous mafia boss that runs organized crime doesn't understand anything he's doing #because he has DID... that logic follows through (this is sarcasm)#it also said ''dia was delusional because he thought he was immortal and would never die'' that was CLEARLY a metaphor man...#also that one video that's like ''what is diavoIo?'' like. what do you mean WHAT is he.?#to be honest i did used to be like ''well the implications in his backstory can be interpreted that dia might be something inhuman i guess'#but now i've come to be like. nah lol that's stupid #him being inhuman adds nothing to his character except more ableism #the devil stuff is just symbolism and he's not really shown to have any inhuman traits besides his weird backstory #which isn't meant to have a real answer i think it's just weird and mysterious #ableism tw #shoe rants

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hazyaltcare · 8 months

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An aesthetic for a mafiastuck & humanstuck Handmaid (Homestuck) who has <3< / <3 feelings for Redglare. In which Redglare took over the Felt mob when & after Handmaid was brainwashed by a rival criminal organization, and they do not hold it against her.

Mod Vintage (TB)

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actress4him · 1 year

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The Shadow of Death - Soldier Boy AU - Part 1

This is the start of another Kamaria and Bruno (aka Brumaria) AU set in modern day. Not to be confused with the College AU, this one is my attempt at sticking a human Kamaria into something as close as I could get to Bruno’s canon story.

As always, the lovely and fabulous Bruno (aka Soldier Boy) belongs to the lovely and fabulous @painful-pooch , and is used with permission.

If anyone else wants to be tagged in the other parts of this AU or in other various future Kamaria fics, lmk!

Contains: lady whump, guns, dead body mention, mild blood, dislocation mention, restraints

Part of her knew it would happen one day. The sudden bangs of doors being kicked in, the shouts and screams and staccato of gunfire. People in uniform spilling through the hallways of the only place she could call home, hunting down every last member and either putting them down or leading them away in cuffs.

But if Kamaria had given the idea any more thought, she would have imagined herself out among them, having to decide whether to throw up her hands or put up a fight. She’d never have envisioned herself listening to it all happen through a locked door, while she dangled from bleeding wrists with only her bare toes brushing the floor.

She probably should have. Sometimes it seems like she spends more time in this room than anywhere else.

Soon enough they inevitably discover the basement rooms. It’s only the footsteps in the hallway that keep her from jumping too hard when the door flies open with a sound like an explosion, slamming into the wall and bouncing back almost closed again. The man’s eyes widen with surprise when he sees her. She can’t help but automatically glare back at him.

She’s too helpless like this. Too exposed. Her tank top mocks her from the other side of the room, folded neatly next to her boots and a row of her knives. Roderick had insisted that she strip down to her sports bra before he’d taken the strap to her, and now this man is staring at far too much bare skin for her liking. And she doesn’t know if she has the energy to try and fight him from this position if he starts coming too close.

“It’s okay, you’re safe,” the man says after stepping further into the room and pointing his gun into every corner. He’s white with a tan from working outdoors, with blue eyes and a scruffy brown beard. More importantly, though, he’s wearing military garb.

They’ve caught that kind of attention, hm?

“I’m here to help you, okay?”

Oh. He thinks she’s a victim.

He definitely won’t be helping her if he finds out who she actually is.

“I’m gonna get you down from there.” He holsters his gun and circles around behind her, giving her a wide berth, but she’s still anxious about not being able to see him anymore.

A moment later she hears the clank of the pulley being released, and she’s lowered slowly onto her feet, arms finally allowed to come down in front of her. Her shoulders ache, but at least they both stayed in socket this time. Immediately she turns to face him, though he’s already coming back around to the front.

“You alright? Can you stand okay?” He looks her over, hands slightly outstretched as if she’s about to fall and he’s planning on catching her. When she continues to simply stare at him, obviously standing just fine, he nods and looks around the room. “Okay, I’m gonna find the key for those cuffs, just give me a minute.”

The room is littered with chains and ropes and various tools of punishment. Unless he gets lucky, it’ll take him far more than a minute, and she can’t really go anywhere until he does.

“They’re right there.” Lifting her manacled hands, she points to where Roderick dropped them.

“Ah.” He gives her a sideways glance, expression unreadable, before crossing over to where she pointed and scooping up the key ring.

It takes everything in her to silently hold out her hands and let this stranger - this soldier - unlock the cuffs. As soon as her wrists are free, though, she snatches the keys from his hand without warning, bending to release her own ankles. He makes some small noise in response that might simply be surprise, but almost sounds like a laugh.

“Are you injured anywhere?”

The inflamed skin on her back burns where she’s stretching it. Straightening, she deposits the keys back in his hand without a word and walks past him to the bench where her belongings are waiting.

“How long have they kept you here?”

She can feel his eyes digging into her from behind. Whether he’s taking in the red welts the strap left behind, or the myriad of old scars beneath them, who knows. Her back is one of the few expanses of skin that remains untouched by ink. Any tattoos she put there would just get ruined. Her back has always been Roderick’s canvas, not her own.

Before he can look any harder, she yanks the shirt off the bench and quickly pulls it over her head.

“You might not want to put that on, you could aggravate -”

She tugs the hem down to her waist and moves on to her boots.

“Right.” He huffs what is definitely a laugh this time. “Okay, Miss ‘I Don’t Need Any Help’, you obviously don’t want my advice. But you’ve just been through something traumatic, so I’m not gonna just leave you alone. As soon as you get dressed I’ll take you outside, there’s an ambulance waiting where you can get checked out, see if you need to go to the hospital.”

If she doesn’t take any of these knives with her, it’s the last time she’ll ever see them. This place is now a crime scene, and everything important in it will be confiscated by…whoever is heading this operation. She can’t load all of them up without Soldier Boy getting suspicious, though, so she slips one into each boot as she puts them on, plus one more into a hidden pocket in her pants. The rest will have to stay. They’re clean, at least, she’s confident of that. There won’t be anything to trace back to her.

“After that we’ll need to get your statement. We knew that Alaric Greaves was guilty of a lot of crimes, but I personally didn’t know that kidnapping was one of them. Not sure anyone else did, either.”

Kamaria hasn’t worked under the thumb of a crime lord for fourteen years without learning her rights. Finished lacing the last boot, she turns and faces him with a sigh. “You don’t need my statement. Obviously you already have enough on these guys to raid the place and arrest them, so I’ll be going now.”

Maybe it’s because she’s finally speaking more than three words, or maybe he isn’t used to women contradicting him, but the man looks taken aback. To his credit, he recovers quickly. “We don’t need your statement to arrest them, no. But the more charges we can bring against him, the less likely he is to walk. Besides, don’t you want justice for what they did to you?”

“No.” She’s seeking justice for something far more important. What happens to her in the meantime is of little consequence.

Pushing past him, Kamaria exits the room. Her own tiny little bedroom is right there, conveniently located next door to the punishment room, but she has to pretend that she doesn’t live here if she wants to continue leaving freely. There isn’t much in there, anyway. A couple of changes of clothes, a few more weapons. Nothing personal.

The soldier hurries out right behind her, which, while a bit annoying, is probably a good thing. She’ll need an escort to make sure she’s not arrested or shot on the way out, and with him eager to help she won’t have to go through too much trouble pretending she isn’t familiar with the layout of the place.

“Here, we can go out this way.” He ushers her forward and she strides away, reluctantly making sure to pause at each junction until he can tell her which way to go. Soon they start passing other soldiers, most milling around and digging through the various rooms, a couple still finishing up cuffing the people they’d taken down. In one room she sees two dead bodies out of the corner of her eye, blood pooled around them. She can’t tell from the distance who it is, nor does she really care.

Though if one of them is Roderick, she’d be more than okay with that.

It’s a strange sight, coming out into the sunshine and seeing military vehicles strewn all over the street and yard. She’s basically watching everyone’s worst nightmare unfold. Somehow it makes her want to laugh aloud, even though her plans are crumbling around her just as much as the rest. Disbelief, she supposes. Sometime later today this will all sink in and she’ll be left floundering and trying to figure out what’s next.

“Can you tell me your name, at least?”

She pretends not to hear him, skirting along the edge of the building, trying not to openly stare at the van where one of the lower cronies is being loaded. Her father might already be in there. Or maybe he got his own, personal vehicle and was quickly whisked away. She’s pretty sure he was present for the raid, at least, and he wouldn’t have tried to fight.

Soldier Boy has fallen behind, talking to one of his comrades, probably explaining how he found this poor, hapless victim chained up in the basement. He probably fancies himself a hero. Whatever, if he wants the ego boost that’s no real harm to her. She doesn’t plan on ever seeing him again in order for him to rub the ‘rescue’ in her face.

“Look.” He grabs her arm to stop her and she whirls around, jerking it back out of his grasp, just barely refraining from pulling a knife on him.

His hands go up and he takes a step backwards. “Sorry. But you really need to come let the paramedics take a look at you, at least. And I know you don’t want to talk about what happened to you, it’s tough. But you could help make sure he’s put away for good.”

There’s so much about his spiel that’s laughable, she wouldn’t even know where to start. She has no plans of indulging him with a response, anyway, if for no other reason than she’s already lingering too long. She can’t help another sideways glance at the van. Are they watching? Are they wondering why she’s walking free, why she’s talking with the enemy?

She needs to shake this man and get out of here.

He must follow her gaze, because he looks at the van, too. His expression creases, then softens. “Are you afraid they’ll come after you?”

The question is so startlingly close to the truth that she immediately blurts out, “No.” Scowling, she takes a step back, arms crossed, hoping to make it abundantly clear that she wants him to leave her alone. “Listen, I don’t need anything that you’re suggesting. All I need is to go.” She takes two more steps away, eyes narrowed, daring him to keep following her.

He heaves a sigh, crossing his own arms. “Fine. I can’t force you. But I’ll need your name in case they need to get in contact with you for the investigation. I can’t let you leave until you give me that.”

“What are you going to do if I don’t…shoot me?”

The man starts to say something else, but she doesn’t bother listening. Spinning around, Kamaria walks quickly away from her home, her father, and the people who finally brought him down.

For now.

#the shadow of death #kamaria the assassin #bruno stenberg #brumaria #lady whump #lady whumpee #guns tw #dead body tw #mild blood #restraints tw #military #modern au #whump writing #assassin oc #organized crime #whump fic

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cowboybuckleys · 2 years

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#law and order svu #law and order organized crime #lawandordersvuedit #lawandorderorganizedcrimeedit #jet slootmaekers #joe velasco #*#q #tw guns

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cupcakes-and-pain · 2 years

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Rat Masterlist

General CW: betrayal, captivity whump, kidnapping, multiple whumpees, lots of torture, dehumanization, dehumanizing it/its pronouns, crime organization, begging, crying, explicit gore. Individual CW is in the chapters

I’m not writing in chronological order, so trust what it’s time putting them in here, not what order I post in or what it says at the top of individual chapters

Chapters:

Past:

Flashback

Main Story:

Kidnapping

First Time

Forced to Watch

Rat Party

Chicken Dinner

Chocolate

Privileges

Training

Smile for the Camera

The Photographer

Jai’s New Job

The Surgery

Picrews:

First Second Third

Extra:

Heights

Rat: Choose Your Own Adventure (CYOA)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

Tag list: @kim-poce @lumpofwhump @scp-1296 just ask to be added or removed

#whump #captivity whump #crime organization #kidnapping #tw kidnapping #multiple whumpees #rat

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mconlight · 1 year

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“ hey, don’t you dare close your eyes, you hear me? you die in my arms, and i’m gonna stick the dry-cleaning bill for this shirt in your coffin, that’s a promise! “ (this bt he’s screaming crying throwing up…….grumps 🫶)

𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒.

status: accEPTING, IG?????

haneul saw it before seunggi did, obviously.

what's worse is that seunggi was looking at him, and haneul was busy looking over his shoulder at the car speeding right toward them. it was no accident, the way the car sped up the closer it got to them. and it was no accident, the way haneul chucked seunggi out of the way.

haneul stares at the sky now, pulled into seunggi’s lap while the screech of tires grows more and more distant. he kind of thinks seunggi looks like an angel from this angle— all that blonde hair illuminated by the street lamps above them and all. if he weren’t crying, he might actually mistake him for an angel.

oh, shit— seunggi’s crying. what’s he done this time, again? they were… they were on the way home— to seunggi’s place— and seunggi was asking what haneul wanted for dinner so they could order in… it’s because haneul asked for pizza again, isn’t it? or… it’s because haneul’s bleeding out again, right?

“i don’t think i can go to the stars with you, hyung.” nothing hurts, at least. haneul’s glad seunggi doesn’t have to see him in pain anymore, although seunggi looks too terribly sad for haneul to be fully convinced that it’s a good thing; maybe there are bad things haneul can’t see yet. ah. this is really the end, isn’t it?

“i really wanted to go with you— see all the planets ‘n all.” haneul thought of it from time to time. wrapped up in seunggi’s arms, they’d lay on every beach on the earth and count the stars— he’d skirt his fingers along seunggi’s skin while the moon kept them hidden, safe. they’d move along to the mountains, the cabins— every little nook and cranny away from home until they met every constellation and home no longer felt like the city haneul’s bleeding in— dying in. he hoped they’d move in together before then, honestly. he hoped their things would mingle so deeply together that they’d forget what belonged to who— until everything became theirs. together.

but now it’s haneul, and only haneul, who bleeds out in the middle of street. it’s only haneul who shivers, fucking freezing, even though seunggi insisted he put on more layers before they left so haneul wouldn’t be cold. it’s only haneul dying. only seunggi will live.

“don’t be mad, okay? don’t be mad at me for too long.” his hands— why does it hurt to love his hands?— drift to seunggi’s where they grip to haneul’s body like haneul should be gripping onto life. he’s so tired, though. he’s always slept best in seunggi’s arms anyway. “just— only a little bit? then maybe you could find someone else to see the stars with— someone— someone to live with. just live.”

haneul thinks that, maybe, this was what he was meant for at the end. he wanted to end lives in the name of his brother but maybe he was meant to keep seunggi safe all this time— up until now. he wishes he could’ve lasted a little longer. living with seunggi was so nice.

his eyes shift upward because his head can’t— drifts from seunggi’s eyes to his cheeks to his lips, his neck. “you’re not hurt, right?” haneul didn’t hurt him? “your soulmate is going to be pissed if i hurt you.”

haneul wishes that could be him. maybe in another life.

“when you— when you find them, tell them i tried to keep you safe. i just— i wanted you to live.”

#☾. answered.#idleds #☾. verse four.#car crash tw #organized crime tw #death tw #injury tw #// so uh anyway #☾. no more eyes to see the sun.

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