260427 BAEKHYUN INB100 Twitter Update
2026 WIEA Influential International Artist BAEKHYUN
Thank you to all the Eris who have been with us unchangingly for your warm support â€ïž
"this fic uses em dashes, so it must be ai-generated" real humans use em dashes.
"this fic has long paragraphs with overly described details and scenes, so it must be ai-generated" real humans can write like this.
"this fic has inconsistencies, so it must be ai-generated" real humans make errors and mistakes. that's why we have this thing called plot holes. sometimes writers are tired and they don't remember what they wrote in the last sentences or paragraphs, let alone chapters.
"this fic sounds robotic and unnatural, so it must be ai-generated" not every writer writes in their native language. sometimes they can sound 'robotic and unnatural' if they wrote in their second or third or fourth language (and kudos to them).
"this fic has a prompt left in it that the author forgot to delete, so it must be ai-generated" the 'prompt' the author accidentally left in their fic could actually be a part of an outline that was meant only for them, so they could keep track of what they would write.
"this author posts too often, no human writes this fast, so they must use ai" 1.) you don't know how fast someone can or can't write, how much time a person has in a day or how motivated/skilled they are. 2.) the frequent updates you see could be something that has already been finished and sitting in the author's drafts for god knows how long. just because it's recently posted doesn't always mean it's recently written.
my point? no, you can never know if a fanfic is 'ai-generated'. unless the author says they use ai, you're just assuming, suspecting and witch hunting. chances are that you're not going to 'stop ai fics from being created', you're just going to wrongly accuse genuine writers of using ai and ruin their day at best, make them want to quit writing or sharing their works at worst.
When I started HoldingForEXO back in May 2019, I had no idea what it would grow into. I had just joined the fandom during Love Shot, and almost immediately, Minseok announced his enlistment. What began as a way for me to get to know EXO better turned into something far bigger than I ever imagined.
Through the years, this countdown has been fueled not just by my love for EXO, but by the overwhelming support of fellow EXO-Ls. The shoutouts, messages, and quiet follows from so many of you kept this project alive across six years and eight enlistments. Honestly, 7,000+ followers on this humble app? That number still blows my mind. Thank you for being here, for caring, and for making this space feel alive.
We all know these years havenât been easy. EXO has gone through so much, and so have we as a fandom. But if thereâs one thing thatâs certain, itâs that EXO-Ls are strong. We carry on. And just like you, I canât wait to see what EXO has planned for the future. Welcome back to EXO PLANET.
With that, the countdown has reached its end. This is goodbye for HoldingForEXO, but not farewell altogether. My inbox here will stay open, and if youâd like to keep in touch, you can always find me over on my main blog: @spontaneousellipsis
I have received so much love in my inbox these six years, and especially in the last week. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.
EVERYONE BE CAREFUL. ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN PHISHING SITE (first link)
(the link is purple bc i clicked on it to get the link w/o special characters to report to various phising page report places).
the page leads to what appears to be the normal archive page, w/ the popup about the privacy policy & everything, with the url https://xn--iao3-lw4b.ws/media DO NOT LOG IN. THEY ARE HERE TO STEAL YOUR LOGIN CREDENTIALS. LOOK AT URLS BEFORE ENTERING ANY PERSONAL INFO.
WARNINGS: mentions or descriptions of: blood, violence, body horror, r*pe, death.
SUMMARY: in the world divided between human race race and monsters, one wouldn't want to encounter the other in the darkness of the night. it is hard to seek empathy when the focus is survival.
They have no idea what they had done, Sehun thinks.
There are bruises on his face and shoulders, and one of his ribs might be fractured. The pain, however, is dull. He doesnât feel it so much, and neither does he feel anger. There is only this cold, calculated consideration. He doesnât have to feel anger toward corpses.
Their words donât reach him anymore. Theyâve left him on the ground to rot and eventually bleed out with the blood seeping slowly from the deep cut in his stomach, and he lifted himself to his knees, in a pose that would be suitable for execution; or meditation, was it not for the rope wrapped tightly around his wrists behind his back, and he only thinks that they didnât even put enough effort in making sure heâs disarmed, and now theyâre going to get a payback for this neglect. Maybe they were planning to finish him off later, he wonders â after all, they must think he wonât be able to escape anyway, and theyâre still in the room they took him to â the dirty underground lounge of a bar with a billiard table in the middle, smelling with cheap whiskey and tobacco smoke.
He observes in silence, but no one pays him attention. Itâs like heâs dead in their eyes, like he has already ceased to exist. He knows that itâs partially because they want to erase his existence from their minds and memories â like the existence of any other of his kind. The wounds they inflicted are a symbol of his vulnerability, or so they seem to believe. The symbol of victory of the mankind over the creatures of the night.
To humans, monsters and demons appeared seemingly out of nowhere, but Sehun knows that they share history for as long as humans had been on the Earth. Yet, believing that demons are strangers is a relief â because itâs easier to rely on that belief than to acknowledge that they has been here long before.
Sehun doesnât care, though. He has shed enough human blood to know it all tastes the same. Heâs not angry, even though they have humiliated and hurt him. Itâd only be natural for them to fall victim into their own naivety. Heâll drink them up all.
A girl enters the room suddenly, a tray with drinks in her hand. She glances at the men, and eventually spots him as well. Her face visibly tenses, but she doesnât dare to speak up. Yet, her gaze wanders to him every once in a while as she hands out the drinks in a submissive manner. One of the men comments on her skimpy skirt. She looks uncomfortable, but doesnât react.
Something outside the room catches the menâs attention, and they all suddenly get up to go and check it out. The girl stays, using this moment to tidy up the area a little â just a bit, he doubts thereâs much that can be done to make the cheap lounge look any better.
She checks whether thereâs anyone outside and eventually moves over to his own side. Sehun observes her. He doesnât move, as if frozen in space, but he feels thereâs a small streak of blood running down his chin from having his lip split.
The girlâs face show pity when she eventually finds the strength to approach him.
âHey⊠Just tell me and Iâll call the police, I canât get you out, butâŠâ
He snorts.
She cowers when he looks in her eyes. Something shifts within her, inexplainable fear crossing her features, as if, despite the rope on his wrists, his fingers just wrapped tightly around her heart. He knows, why. Sheâs clearly more human than the others â her instincts work the way they should, the fear that fills her is correct.
âBetter run.â
âWhat?â
âBecause I wonât stop at these fuckards. Get the fuck out of here.â
He doesnât explain any more, there is no need to. But the girl stands still, watching him with her eyebrows furrowed. She doesnât, however, look paralyzed from fear. More of pondering over what he just said. Itâs as if she wants to say something, and opens her mouth, but then the yelling comes from the outside, distracting her. Theyâre not coming back just yet, but the noise served to take her attention away for just a moment.
âI donât like them, eitherâ she eventually admits. âMaybe the world will be better without them. There is a first aid kit under the bar counter if you need it. Make sure to run far, blood stains on the snow will not disappear easily.â
He knows that. He may not have been in this situation before, but he was in many similar enough to know how to survive after a macabre. There will be a hunt, there will be chasing, there will be news all over the media, and those of his kind will be even more feared, and even more stigmatized. But he will not back off.
âGet out of hereâ he repeats once more. His voice is much softer now; something shifted in him for these few moments, that small humanizing experience easing his thoughts and senses.
She listens and soon heâs alone again.
He hopes that she managed to leave the bar, but there is no thought of that left once he lets his monster free, and thereâs only the smell of blood in his nostrils, heartbeats resonate through his bones.
His claws tear through flesh and screaming fills his ears. More wounds litter his body, but barely any can rip through what he has became now. His claws are aching until they dive into warm stomachs, tearing apart every bit of skin and muscle that they come across, crushing the bones and splattering the blood all around. The thick metallic smell fills the air.
He doesnât know the last time he felt this hunger, but once itâs quenched, he feels so strong, so powerful.
This is right, this is the way things should be. The mankind is no match for a monster, and he is justice for the fools.
Only at the back of his head he wonders, if her blood really tastes the same, or if he came across her and could dive his fangs into her throat, would it be another kind of pleasure, another kind of bliss that would fill his hungry jaws.
Once the police arrives at the place, he is long gone, and itâll take them a while to identify the bodies of his self-proclaimed oppressors.
Two months later
The smell of blood wakes him up one night.
It is nothing new. In fact, that scent is one of most familiar ones that he experiences in his life, so it shouldnât surprise him this time, either. Be it his own, or some humansâ, or other monstersâ â any bloodshed in the proximity of the few miles reaches his nostrils before anything else, and so in the world of violence and danger, heâs learned to ignore such stimuli.
But this one keeps him up because itâs vaguely familiar, although he cannot place his thoughts around it. Itâs the curiosity that prevents him from laying back down.
He leaves into the night-ridden streets of the city.
The white street lights struggle to tear through the thick fog that fills the area, and he relies on his smell and hearing mostly, navigating through the district.
The closer he gets, the more he feels it â the scent of blood intensifies and his internal hunger is starting to deprive him off mind clarity. Something in him turns, his own heartbeat pulsing in his ears, with every pulse â his vision tunnels into the path straight to the source.
When he walks into a small valley, the people gathered there see only remains of his human self. The whites of his eyes already turned pitch black. His fingernails turned into harpoon-like claws, and the fog has taken the look of deep black smoke, extending from the entry to the alley and soon surrounding everyone present, growing so thick that it dulled out any and all sounds coming from the outside of the dreadful zone.
 Sehun is calm â calmer than he would usually be. The hunger is screaming inside him, but heâs doing a pretty damn good job at restraining it â for now.
âThe fuck do you want?â comes the sloppy voice of one of the few men gathered in the alley. He must be either drunk or high, Sehun ponders, given he seems rather unaware of the change in surroundings.
The others start registering what is happening, and Sehunâs eyes, darker than the alley itself, serve to make their position clear.
But that is when he, also, finally sees what called out to him and brought him here in the first place.
Because between the men gathered in there, lays a smaller, feminine body, and itâs nothing but that exact body that reeks of fresh blood and makes his nostrils flare up. Heâs so hungry.
âFuck, donâtâŠ!â The words reach Sehun half a second later than the glimpse of a broken bottle that the man swings, running towards him in a thoughtless outburst of bravery. Someone â smarter than the man, for sure â tries to stop him, but itâs too late, and Sehun dodges the hit with barely any effort, extending his hand forward, and the man impales himself on the claws. They tear through the flesh, going almost elbow-deep.
Sehun scoffs, relaxing the muscle, and the manâs convulsing body slips off and onto the ground.
The others waste no time, turning around and running into the dark fog surrounding the area, survival being the only thing on their minds the moment they realize what they got themselves into.
Sehun doesnât feel like chasing them. He instead wants to investigate what they left behind.
He approaches the body curiously and soon realizes, sheâs still alive. In fact, not only alive, but still conscious, although there is a deep cut in her leg that must have been the one that caused the blood shed, and so it doesnât seem she is able to stand up.
But he notices something else, too â that her clothes are disheveled, and especially the black skirt is somewhat out of place.
Her breathing is shaky and she barely registers his presence, looking up and trying to see through the darkness to tell the details of his face. But itâs too dark again, and he knows itâs only him that sees her well and not vice versa.
He nudges her body with his foot, and she flinches.
He lets out a sigh. He is a monster, he knows, but there are a few drops of pity in the sea of cruelty that fills his black heart.
The sound of your own heartbeat wakes you up from the hazy state you were in.
Were you asleep? Unconscious? Or completely dissociated â you couldnât tell, but something finally tears you out of this state and you push yourself up. There is pain in different areas of your body â some of which make you gag at the thought of, and you choose not to ponder about them, although your face twists in disgust.
But now what matters more is that youâre in a completely unfamiliar place.
It appears to be an old flat of sorts, with dirty, cracked walls and a dusty mattress that youâre laying on. A single bulb is the only light source that you have, but it suffices to showcase the nearest surroundings.
There is another mattress against the opposite wall and a man sits on top of it, all attention on what appears to be a takeout chicken that heâs eating. The smell of warm barbecue spices fills your nostrils, rather pleasant â but you silently judge the grease covering the manâs fingers that heâs using to dine in a primitive, greedy manner.
You clear your throat and he silently looks up at you, stopping with a half-eaten chicken leg up mid-air. At least the foam tray is preventing him from getting the grease all over his clothes, because the sauce is profusely dripping off his digits.
He reaches towards what seems to be the same foam box as he has, and pushes it towards you.
âEat.â
âWho are you?â
âStrain your memory a little. I remembered you, so you better recognize me as well.â
You pout a little, but decide it will be in your best interest to listen what he said and at least try to take it upon yourself to think some before speaking up again.
Your stomach churns when you take a small bite of the chicken, and you feel yourself growing sick. You might throw up if you keep eating. Itâs not that youâre not hungry. But more than hungry, you feel⊠gross.
You decide to take your time while peeking at the man, trying to put all pieces together and place his face somewhere in your memories.
Then you vaguely recall what happened before he brought you here â the darkness that surrounded you when he entered the alley, void more unsettling and terrifying than a mere night could bring. When the matter of what he is becomes crystal clear, it also brings you back to the only, really, situation, in which you could have met him, and you understand it now.
But the memory of the dark alley brings up other memories as well, and you almost drop the styrofoam tray, putting it away with difficulty, your muscles tensing, your whole body becoming heavy. Your breathing quickens again, heartbeat filling your ears.
You think youâre going to pass out, whenâŠ
âLook at me.â
You snap your eyes up and towards his own. Theyâre black, but not patch black â reflecting light like two polished pieces of hematite, and you stare at him, mesmerized.
Your breathing slowly calms down, so does your heartbeat. Pain disappears, as if erased. Your thoughts start to dissolve, everything is blurring around you, and right before youâre trapped in a complete apathy, the sensation disappears, but youâre left much calmer, much more at ease.
âWhat⊠did you do?â
âIâm a monster. There is many things I can do. Consider this a type of hypnosis.â It seems that heâs finally done with his chicken, because he puts the tray away, wiping his fingers with a tissue and tossing it into the tray as well. âSo. What were you even doing out there at this hour?â It takes you by surprise that he wants to start a small talk, and he doesnât look like the type to talk with people â especially humans â often to begin with.
The dull pain in your leg reminds you of the earlier events, and you glance down only to see it somewhat patched up. It appears to have bled through some layers of the bandage before the bleeding has stopped, but at least the injury itself is secured.
âAfter you demolished my workplace, I had to find a new one. All the clients moved to another bar, so they took me in easily. But the opening hours are⊠suboptimal. So I was going home whenâŠâ
âWere these bastards clients as well?â
You hold your breath for a few moments before nodding curtly.
âMaybe you should get into a better careerâ Sehun scoffs.
âLate night shifts get along with studying during the dayâ you sigh. âBut⊠maybe I wasted my chance to find better folk. I thought the⊠the ones you got, were the worst, and that it would be over. But it wasnât the case. This goddamn city is rotten from the inside out. Fucking scum hydra, you killed a few and a dozen came in their place.â
Sehun snorts at your snarky voice.
âWe can kill these too, if you wanna.â
You stare at him blankly.
âYou⊠are joking, right?â
âWas I joking last time?â He winks at you.
Given the context, the expression is grotesque.
You glance outside to where the sun is starting to lift from the horizon. You feel as though you havenât seen it in ages, the shades of purple and orange seep through the rare clouds that sprawl across the firmament.
âThey will be there tonight, Iâm sure. They come there every day at the same time.â
Sehun watches you with a knowing smile on his face. That smile is dark and full of underlying bloodlust, but all youâre seeing right now is the bright glow right outside.
The last time you were here felt starkly different.
It is like visiting an old school years after graduation, except it is less than twenty four hours from the last time you were here.
But you are more than certain it is no longer your place to belong to. The small, rusty bar at the corner of the two empty streets will no longer be yours to spend nights at, and you feel nervous for the future, yet relieved at the same time. You genuinely hate your workplace, as much as you hated the former one.
Sehun stands right behind you and the two of you observe the entry from the safe distance of the opposite end of the sidewalk. You feel his calm, warm breath on top of your head. Your own is shaky.
âIâm going to get fired for thisâ you mumble, trying to lighten the mood a little. Sehunâs breath hitches in a silent laughter, but he doesnât say anything. âCanât you, you know, get this done yourself?â Youâve seen him in his element before, you know that it might scare you for life to see it in close detail like this.
âYou can still back out of thisâ he states. His tone is considerate, making it clear that, truly, he has no intention in forcing you into something you donât want. The aura between the two of you appears light and friendly, not matching at all the scheme that youâve made up.
âNothing will change if I donât do itâ you ponder aloud.
âNot much will change if you doâ Sehun corrects. âYou wonât change the world by killing off half of it. It will be just the same, only more secluded.â There are years over years of life experiences that accumulate into this simple statement, you realize. How many times has he been in this situation? How many times has he taken it upon himself to bring some wicked idea of justice?
No, that is not justice. It is nothing more glorious, nothing more magnificent than a simple revenge.
âI will changeâ you finally state. âJust me and them. Itâs about enough for me.â
Sehun nods slowly. The decision is made.
The two of you enter the bar with your heads lowered. Heâs silently wondering whatâs on your mind; are you thinking of a plan, or just hoping for him to take the initiative? It doesnât matter much. There needs to be no plan, he can just destroy everything in sight. But itâs a wonder, heâs entertained seeing the cogs turn in your head, so he doesnât want to rush anything. There is all the time in the world to watch the downfall you prepared for yourself.
You bite on your lip and look at him, seeking reassurance.
He grins, nodding towards the bar.
Your gaze drifts over the silhouettes that are present in. It has been barely a minute, but some men already sent not-too-subtle glances your way. The bar owner behind the bar is busy cleaning. Yesterday, you asked him to let you go home earlier because the bar was almost empty on that day and you were scared of being out at night. He declined.
There is no one in this place that you would pity.
With determined face, you walk up to the nearest table. You already hear whistling. Youâre not going to regret any of this.
You grab the beer bottle off the table and with all the force you can muster, crush it on the manâs head. Glass shatters and scatters all over the place. The noise it makes drowns out everything else, and for a few painful seconds, the air is still, and nobody is saying a word, and you suddenly realize what you have done, and-
Black smoke starts to fill the space. Everything darkens.
In any other circumstances, you would be so, so scared of it.
Right now it brings comfort. Youâre no longer alone.
The man with his head bleeding falls to the floor first, pierced through spikes of black matter that come out of his gut, making him look like a bloody hedgehog.
Screams fill your ears, chaos arises. People start to run, yell at each other, trying to rip through the black matter that starts to surround them from all directions. But the smoke is tangible, it chases down every living soul in the bar like itâs a sentient creature, it draws blood and fills its mouth with flesh like a beast.
You stand in the middle of mayhem, frozen in your spot. The smoke doesnât hurt you, doesnât notice you. The only pain you feel comes from the wound on your leg, and from your hand, because youâre clutching on remains of the shattered bottle so hard that it cuts through.
Your head is empty.
Through the noise, you hear Sehun chuckle behind you and place a hand on your shoulder, urging you to turn around and look at him.
He devours the sight of terror on your face.
Prying the glass from your hand, he brings your wrist to his face. His lips brush your skin, staining it with blood. Itâs like a wake up call. You pull your hand out of your grasp and turn around frantically, slowly coming to realization of what is going on, of what youâve doneâŠ
But itâs not like thereâs any backing out from this. Bodies start to pile on the floor and you trip over someoneâs head as you step forward, taking in the sight. So many still running around, still fighting, still trying to get out, hide or survive.
Sehun grabs your wrist and pulls you further into the bar. Itâs spacious, along with all the lounges, but he finally brings you behind the counter. Your manager cowers on the ground underneath, covering his head. He must think heâs going unnoticed.
âYou can do it, strong girl.â He takes a knife off the bar counter and puts it in your hand, guiding you forward. The man doesnât notice you, heâs covering his head and shaking, trembling so much.
You think that Sehun must read your thoughts to know the kind of bitterness youâre feeling at the sight.
âHe didnât care you would end up in that alleyâ he utters into your ear, lips brushing your hair, almost intimately.
âI-I canâtâŠâ you mumble. You feel sick in the stomach.
âTake your time, have a drink if you needâ he points at the glasses of cocktail on the counter, still untouched by a miracle. Youâre tempted to do it. Youâre tempted to drink all alcohol in here, to forget all that youâve seen, all that youâve caused. Maybe if someone finds you later unconscious, drunk out of your mind, they wonât even think it was your doing. Maybe you can pretend to be yet another victim, only lucky enough to have passed out before the hells opened for the people gathered in here.
But at heart, you know that you wonât. That there is no way in hell â or on the earth for that matter â that you can go back to regular life after this.
Youâre corrupted beyond salvation.
With the last ounce of bravery, you turn around on your heel. The blade is heavy in your hand, but you aim it perfectly.
Into the Monsterâs chest.
Your heart stops beating for a second. Everything goes quiet, so quiet that you cannot even hear your blood buzzling. Youâre frozen to the ground, realization dawning on you. You did what you felt would be right. You did what could potentially save someone. You did what the world would thank you for.
But Sehun stares at you with a quizzical smile, as if there was no knife sticking out of his chest, as if it was all nothing more than a joke.
âReally?â he muses.
You step back. The sounds of surroundings come back to you now, and youâre overwhelmed with their intensity. Your body trembles.
âYou were going to kill me anyway, werenât you?â The simple realization hits you as you speak out your thoughts. What else could he have wanted from you? He helped you, went out of his way, despite you being of no use, completely hopeless in the world.
Sehun is still, after all, a monster, and his empathy is not a trait worth trusting.
âMaybeâ he replies. âDo you want me to?â He steps towards you without hurry. He walks through the inferno like itâs his personal catwalk. âDonât you want to forget what youâve done?â He extends his hand to you in an invitation.
And despite everything, youâre tempted to take it.
You let out a small sob. Youâre tired. So tired of this, so tired of everything else. So tired of this world.
âWill it hurt?â you utter in a small voice.
You donât take his hand, but when he finally catches up to you, his arms wrap around you in a manner that could pass as protective, if you by now didnât know any better.
Sehun lets out a small hum.
âIâll make sure it does.â
This time, itâs your turn to succumb to the justice.
A/N: Please reblog if you enjoyed and check out my masterlist for more EXO fics. And, of course, follow if you would like to read more in the future. Thank you for your time!
