#soon... ill write something worth posting soon...

[rinsecycle42]

pride month over and i didn't post a single popiso fic...,.. ive failed my community im sorry everyone 💔

[yeoldenews]

The other night I reorganized the folder on my computer where I keep all the weird New York Herald personal ads I post.

Over the years I've been clipping these I've come across a handful of personals that were just straight up written in code.

As I was going through the folder I noticed that almost all the coded ads were printed within a year or two of each other (specifically between 1850 and 1852). Looking a bit more closely I also began to realize that the same coded words and phrases were appearing across multiple personals - suggesting they were all written in the same code (which appeared to be a basic substitution cipher), likely by the same person/people.

Possessing multiple samples of the code, struck by the type of confidence that only hits at 11:30 at night, and having the little know-how remaining from a special interest in cryptology in middle school, I thought... I bet I can crack that.

So I took the longest coded personal I had at the time (the image directly above - I've since found a much longer one), cracked open a notebook and got cryptoquip-ing.

I had a few little hitches due to words being mispelled in the original ad and a few unclear letters due to poor quality newsprint, but I soon found myself with a mostly decoded message...

"This morning at elevn[sic] precisely be at Carter's bookstore two eighty five Broadway. As a prete?h ask for their directory. Don't fail."

I made myself a key (V and W are Q and Z, but as neither letter is ever used in an ad there's no way to tell which is which.)...

...and got to decoding the other personal ads and putting them chronological order.

Let's see what was worth encoding 175 years ago...

July 16, 1850 -

"You have arrived by this time I suppose my own dearest Josie. I shall wait ivpatiently[sic] for the Asia hoping to hear from you. I went to vespers Sunday and sat in your pew. You are never out of my thoughts. I have written down all that has occurred which I thought would interest you. We will read it together on our first drive after your return. I kiss this on which your eyes will rest. Do not forget your own fond devoted Jerry."

---

September 12, 1850 -

"Welcome my dearest Josie; when can k[sic] see you."

---

September 17, 1850 -

"Not one word from you dearest while away or since you returndd[sic]. Have your feelings then changed, See last Thursdays Herald. I dare not see you for the first time at home."

---

October 10, 1850 -

"I’m sick with anxiety about you, love. Will you not see me."

---

The ads then skip almost two years (I'm planning to go through the intervening microfilm by hand at some point to make sure there aren't any sneaky ones I missed)...

June 3, 1852 -

"Dearest - I was very ill whne[sic] you wrote."

---

July 4, 1852 -

"Deareft[sic] - Just return[sic] from Albany write again to me box in post office."

---

July 7, 1852 -

"Today three oclock Jersey City ferry house."

---

July 8, 1852 -

"This morning at eleven south ferry New York side."

Street cars and omnibuses wait outside the South Ferry terminal in New York City, circa 1865.

---

July 13, 1852 (the original message I decoded) -

"This morning at elevn[sic] precisely be at Carters Bookstore two eighty five Broadway. As a pretexh[sic] ask for their directory. Don’t fail."

Carter's Bookstore (indicated by janky arrow) as seen in a panoramic view published in Gleason's Pictorial, March 18, 1854.

---

Another time skip, this time 5 months.

December 14, 1852 -

"Give me a da y[sic] dear."

---

And the final message (that I've found as of writing this)...

December 25, 1852 -

"Mnray[sic] at elevn[sic] Catharine Ferry New York."

It may not be the most thrilling of Victorian espionage, but it still feels pretty cool to read something no one else has read in 175 years.

I've gone through about 3 months worth of microfilm by hand and found two more coded ads that weren't picked up by the text recognition due to blurry newsprint, but it's a slog so it's going to take a while.

So what are our theories? Did these two crazy kids make it? What was keeping them apart? Why the two year gap? What were all the meetings for?

[03jyh23]

You’ve spent months pretending you’re okay. Yunho has spent months pretending he believes you. Tonight, neither of you can pretend anymore.

➢ yunho x fem!reader ➢ angst, hurt ➢ bipolar disorder, depressive episode, suicidal ideation, discussion of suicide, mental illness, medication mention, self-worth issues, impostor syndrome, relationship conflict, emotional breakdown, crying, panic, unhealthy coping mechanisms ➢ 4.4k ➢ this one was more for me than anything else. i’ve been thinking about posting it for a long time, but today felt like the right day. it’s messy, heavy, and probably a little more honest than i originally intended it to be. but sometimes the things that are hardest to write are the things that need to be written. maybe someone will read this and recognise a piece of themselves in it. maybe someone will feel a little less alone. and if that’s the case, then i’m glad i shared it. if you see yourself in any part of this, i’m sorry. and you’re not alone.

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎You didn’t expect Yunho to come home so soon. That’s why you hurriedly gathered the used tissues scattered around you and shoved them beneath the blanket, wiping your tears on the sleeve of your shirt. You didn’t want him to know. What good would it do anyway? He didn’t need to deal with how miserable you felt. Swallowing the thick lump in your throat, you tried desperately to even out your breathing. The sound of his shoes being discarded echoed from the hallway—you’d probably have to nag him for leaving them carelessly again—followed by the soft pad of his socks on the wooden floor. You turned your back to the entryway, not trusting your eyes to hide the evidence.

“Hey, I’m back,” he didn’t even glance at your curled-up form before heading straight for the kitchen. Something landed on the countertop. Definitely not the milk and eggs you’d asked for. More likely protein powder and instant noodles. You hadn’t expected a warm greeting; he’d been out all day, and he rarely came home smiling anymore. Lately, it felt like he returned out of habit more than anything else, a habit that was still stronger, for unknown reasons, that any haunting thought about leaving.

It’s not love anymore, is it?

“You’re not even gonna say hi to me?”

There it was. That tone again.

Plastering a fragile smile onto your face, you forced yourself up from the living room couch and turned to face him, your eyes still heavy and reddened. “Hi,” the word came out weaker than you’ve liked. You padded into the kitchen space, trying to deflect. “How was wo—”

“You’ve been crying?” he interrupted immediately, his eyes locking onto your face. He let out a shaky exhale—you couldn’t tell if it was born of irritation or some lingering, buried sense of worry. “Again?”

The lump in your throat returned, heavier this time, joined by a knot in your stomach that stole the air from your lungs. Yunho wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t blind. But the voice in your head insisting that nobody cared was stubborn. Unyielding. Even after promising yourself thousands of times that you’d speak up—that you’d finally let him see the hurricane in your mind—the second the opportunity arose, your brain slammed on the emergency brakes. “What are you talking about?” you muttered, “I was just—”

“For God’s sake.” Yunho rolled his eyes, taking in your clearly broken-down posture. “Will you ever just talk to me?” He sounded angry, or maybe that was just the distortion of your own defence mechanisms. “Do you think I’m an idiot? Your eyes are all red and puffy.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” the words slipped out, you swore they did, cold and definitive. You took a step back, intending to disappear into the darkness of the bedroom, but you didn’t even make it half a step when Yunho’s hand, still chilled from the outside air, clamped down on your shoulder, keeping you in place.

“What happened?”

Panic clawed its way up your chest and neck, squeezing tight. Total silence fell over the kitchen, though your ears were ringing with the frantic thud of your own heartbeat. You hated that question, or maybe it was more a fear of it? “Nothing.” You forced your voice to remain flat. You failed. “Let me make you something to eat.” Avoiding his gaze, you reached past him for the grocery bag.

Yunho laughed once, short and humourless. “Right. Same answer as last week.”

You stiffened, your fingers wrapping tightly around the paper handles of the bag. “I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

Desperate for a distraction, you began pulling plates out of the dishwasher, unpacking them just to give your trembling hands something to do. “Can you just drop it?”

“No.” The answer came so fast, so sharp, it forced your eyes up. Yunho dragged a heavy hand down his face, a gesture of pure exhaustion. “No, I can’t just drop it.”

“I said I’m fine.”

“You are very obviously not fine.”

“Why does it even matter?” The question slipped out before your brain could filter it. Next came a total silence, heavy and suffocating. Yunho just stared at you, his face freezing but you couldn’t quite get the emotion behind it. You looked away, regretting the words the instant they tasted real. “Forget it.”

“No. Explain that.”

Your chest tightened, the pressure built until it finally burst. “Because what difference does it make?” you snapped, the sudden volume surprising even yourself. “You knowing doesn’t magically fix anything!”

Yunho’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek. “So that’s it? You just cry by yourself until you can’t breathe, and then pretend nothing happened?”

“You wouldn’t understand.” The moment the words left your mouth, you wished you could violently pull them back.

Something painful flashed across his face. “Wouldn’t understand?” Yunho repeated, his voice rising for the first time. “No, actually, I don’t. I don’t know what you mean because you never tell me anything.”

Your eyes burned fiercely, a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill. “Because I’m tired!”

“So am I!” The admission hit harder than any physical violence ever could. You flinched, and Yunho looked away as if he needed a second to calm down, shaking his head. “I’m tired of guessing what's going on in your head,” he confessed. “I’m tired of waking up and wondering if today’s gonna be a good day or a bad day. I’m tired of watching you fall apart and pretending I don’t see it, because every single time I ask, you shut me out.”

The room felt microscopic, and the walls were closing in, trapping you both in the wreckage of the conversation. You wrapped your arms tightly around yourself, trying to hold your shattering pieces together. “Then stop asking.”

Yunho stared at you. For a fleeting second, the anger completely vanished, leaving him looking genuinely, deeply hurt. “Do you really want that?”

You opened your mouth, but no sound came out. Your throat was completely closed up. Because the truth was: no. You didn’t want him to stop. You wanted him to ask. You wanted him to keep asking. You wanted someone to finally notice—but you just didn’t know how to survive the vulnerability of being seen.

Yunho let out a slow, defeated breath, the fight leaving his shoulders.

“That’s what I thought.”

And there they were. Tears, again.

You sniffled, blinking rapidly as if it could somehow stop them from spilling over. “What difference does it make if you know? It’s not your fault I feel like this. It’s not anyone’s. It’s all on me.” You dragged a trembling hand through your hair, gripping the roots just to feel something grounding. “Do you really want to fucking listen about what it’s like?” The words tore out of you, broken in half by a sob. “To wake up every single morning wishing you could just disappear? Wishing everyone would just forget you ever existed so you could stop being a burden?” Yunho took a sudden step toward you. Instinctively, you flinched and stepped back, leaving his hand hovering in the air near your waist, desperately wanting to steady you, but you kept moving out of reach until your lower back hit the hard edge of the kitchen counter. You couldn’t handle being touched in this satate. You were trapped by the room, and trapped by your own skin.“Do you know how hard it is?” you cried, the act of being fine completely breaking now. “Just getting out of bed every day? Taking four different fucking medications just to stay stable, and still feeling like absolute shit anyway?” Your chest throbbed with ache. Every single breath felt too sharp, like your lungs were getting cut open. “I’m trying,” the confession came out small, and pathetic in your ears. You hated how weak you felt when you met Yunho’s eyes for a brief moment, before looking away again. “I’m trying so hard.” Another sob tore violently through your throat, robbing you of air. “And it’s never enough.”

For the first time since he’d walked through the front door, Yunho didn’t interrupt. He didn’t argue. He didn’t demand that you talk to him, and he didn’t roll his eyes. He just stood there, completely paralysed, listening.

Because maybe, after all this time, you were finally saying something.

“And then you come home,” you choked out, gesturing wildly to the space between you, “after I’ve been sitting in my own rot all day, and you demand answers like I have any!” You let out a harsh laugh, though it sounded far more like another sob. “I’m so tired.”

Yunho took another cautious step forward, his hands half-raised. “Hey—”

“No!” You shook your head violently, the movement making the room tilt. “No, don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t look at me like that.” Your chest heaved, desperate for air that wouldn’t come, lungs refusing to work under flood of tears.

“Like what?”

“Like you care!” The silence that followed felt endless, it swallowed the whole space between you. You immediately wished you could yank the words back into your throat, but it was too late. Once the words started, they refused to stop. “You don’t get it,” you choked out.

“Then explain it to me.”

“Why? So you can tell me it’ll get better? So you can give me some hollow promise that you’re here for me?” Your vision blurred into a smear of kitchen lights and shadow. “Look at me!” You spread your arms wide, gesturing to your trembling, broken form. “Look at me,” your voice broke to a whisper, “I’m miserable all the time. I can’t keep my shit together.” You pressed a fist hard against your sternum, right over your aching heart. “I take medication every single day and I’m still a complete disaster.” You swallowed against the burn in your throat, pushing through the final, terrifying truth. “And you know what the worst part is?”

Yunho didn’t answer. Looking at him, you weren’t even sure he could breathe, let alone speak.

“I’m trying so hard,” you wiped angrily at your face with the back of your hand, but it was a useless, desperate gesture that only smeared the hot tears further across your cheeks. “I’m trying,” you whispered again, the repetition sounding more like a plea to the universe than a statement. “And for what?” You didn’t let him speak. If you stopped now, the momentum would die, and you would dissolve into nothing. You let out a bitter, ugly laugh. “For what, Yunho? So I can swallow my meds, force myself to go to work, come home, pretend I’m absolutely fine, and then wake up to do it all over again? Is that the grand prize?”

“That’s not what this is about,” he interrupted, his voice dropping low as he looked at tears restlessly falling down your cheeks.

“Then what is it about?”

His jaw tightened so hard the muscle along his cheekbone twitched. He closed the small distance between you, his eyes locked onto yours. “You won’t talk to me.”

A sharp, hysterical laugh escaped you before you could stop it. “Because there’s nothing to say!”

“That’s bullshit,” the sudden, whip-crack sharpness in his voice made you flinch, shoulders violently jerking backward. For a fraction of a second, a flicker of pure guilt crossed Yunho’s face at your reaction. But the softness vanished as quickly as it came, swallowed by a wave of frustration. “No,” he said, his voice steadying, “I’m serious. That’s absolute bullshit.” You could only stare at him, your hands gripping the countertop behind you so tightly your knuckles turned white. “You cry when you think I’m not looking,” he said, taking a deliberate step closer. The cold air from the outside still clung to his jacket. “You lock yourself in the bedroom for hours.”

Another step.

“You barely sleep. I lie awake and I listen to you toss and turn until the sun comes up.”

Another step.

He was entirely inside your space now, the warmth of his body a direct contrast to the icy panic flooding your veins. “And every single time I ask you what’s wrong, you look me dead in the eye and tell me it’s nothing.” You hated how right he sounded. You hated the absolute, undeniable logic of his words, and more than anything, you hated him for being the one to hold it against you.

“What difference would it make if I told you?” you cried, your voice pitching higher.

“Maybe I’d know how to help.”

A ragged laugh tore out of you, loud and mocking. “Help?” The word dripped with a bitter, venomous disbelief. “That’s funny. That’s really funny, Yunho.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

You looked away, unable to hold his gaze any longer. You focused instead on a small scratch on the kitchen cabinets. “Nothing.”

“No. Say it.” The kitchen suddenly felt microscopic. The walls were pressing in from all sides, trapping the two of you in a space that lacked oxygen. You could feel your heartbeat throbbing violently in your throat, choking you. “Say it,” he demanded again.

Your eyes burned fiercely, a fresh wave of tears blurring the sight of his socks on the floor. “You really want me to?”

“Yes.” The answer came instantly. No hesitation or fear.

So, you gave it to him. You took the most toxic, deeply rooted fear in your soul and you threw it directly at his chest. “You don’t love me anymore.”

The silence was immediate. It was a violent and suffocating, sucking any remaining air out of the room.

Yunho just stared at you. The anger on his face completely froze, his features slackening into an expression of total, uncomprehending shock. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“Say it again.” His voice was frighteningly calm now. The storm had suddenly vanished, replaced by quiet that made your instinct scream at you to run.

You swallowed past the lump in your throat. “You don’t love me.”

His laugh was short, sharp, and completely humourless—a sound that made you flinch worse than his yelling had. “Wow.”

You felt tears spill over your eyelashes, tracing burning paths down your face and onto your neck. But you couldn’t stop. The floodgates were shattered, and your broken brain was running the script it had spent months writing in the dark. “You come home because you don’t have anywhere else to go,” you sobbed, gesturing vaguely to the apartment around you.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, dragging a hand over his face.

“You stay because it’s easier than leaving.”

“Jesus Christ!”

“You stay because you’re used to me!” By then, his eyes were shining, glassy tears finally gathering in them. You looked at them and felt a sick twist of validation. “You stay because it’s a habit.”

“You really believe that?” he asked, his voice cracking on the last syllable.

You didn’t answer. Because the truth was: yes. You did. Every single day, that was the reality your mind constructed for you, and standing here, broken and exposed, you couldn’t tell the difference between the delusion and the truth. Yunho’s head dropped for a second, his chin pressing against his chest as he let out a long, ragged breath. When he looked back up, something about him had changed. It wasn’t love, and it wasn’t the fiery anger from before. It was hurt. Ugly, bleeding hurt.

“So every time I’ve tried to help you—”

“Yunho—”

“No!” His voice rose, cutting you off completely, echoing off the walls. “No, we’re doing this now. We are doing this right fucking now.” The volume of his voice made you stand straight up. Your stomach dropped, making the first hit of nausea hit you. “Every single time I’ve sat up with you until three in the morning,” he started, his hands shaking as he began to count on his fingers, throwing the evidence of his love between you. “Every single doctor’s appointment I drove you to.”

“Stop,” you whispered.

“Every prescription I ran to pick up because you couldn’t face the outside world.”

“Please.”

“Every fucking panic attack where I held you until my arms went completely numb!” His voice shook violently, the tears finally spilling over his eyelids. “And you think I did all of that because I was bored? You think I did that out of habit?”

Tears completely blinded your vision, turning him into a broad, trembling silhouette. “I didn’t mean—”

“Then what did you mean?” The question hit like a slap across the face. Yunho stepped closer, “What exactly do you think I am? Some kind of martyr? A heartless asshole who just plays house because it’s comfortable?”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Your vocal cords were paralyzed.

Yunho laughed again, and it made the blood in your veins go cold. The sound was terrifying in your ears. “Do you know what the worst part is?”

You wished he would stop talking. You wanted to cover your ears, to scream, to crawl into the floorboards—anything to make him stop. But he didn’t. Not anymore.

“The worst part is that none of this is ever enough.”

You flinched. Immediately. The words struck you in the chest, echoing the exact, terrifying thought you had spoken only moments before: And it’s never enough. The second you moved, regret flashed across Yunho’s face. He blinked, looking down at his own hands as if shocked by the weapon he had just used. But it was too late. The syllables had left his mouth. The damage was done.

“Oh,” you whispered, the sound barely clearing your lips. “Oh.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said quickly, taking a step forward, his hand reaching out instinctively.

“But you meant it.”

“No, I didn’t—”

“You did.” Fresh, hot tears spilled down your face, your defenses completely crumbling into ash. “You finally said it.”

“For fuck’s sake!” Yunho shouted, running both hands through his hair.

“You finally admitted it,” you choked out, your voice small, trembling, entirely defeated.

“I didn’t!” His hands shook as he dropped them to his sides. “I am so tired of everything I do being twisted into proof that I don’t care about you! I am so tired of fighting a voice in your head!”

You let out a sharp, bitter laugh through your tears. “And I’m tired of feeling like a fucking obligation!”

The words hung between you. Heavy. Ugly.

Obligation.

Yunho went completely, terrifyingly still.

An obligation. Not a partner. Not a girlfriend. Not the person he loved. An obligation. Something to be checked off a list. A burden to be carried.

You saw that one land. You watched the word hit him, saw the way his shoulders subtly dropped, the way the last remnants of fight drained out of his posture, leaving him looking entirely hollowed out.

Good, a small, vicious part of your brain whispered. You wanted it to hurt.

And the very second that thought crossed your mind, a wave of self-loathing washed over you. You hated yourself for it. Because suddenly, this wasn’t about defense anymore. You weren’t trying to protect your heart; you were actively trying to wound his. Just like he had tried to wound yours.

The realisation made you feel sick, a knot tightening in the pit of your stomach.

Neither of you spoke. The apartment felt impossibly quiet now, the silence heavy with pieces of everything you had just smashed. The hum of the refrigerator felt too loud.

Then, Yunho looked away. He couldn’t even look at you anymore. He stared at the kitchen floor, his voice dropping until it was very soft, entirely devoid of the anger that had sustained him. “I don’t know how to love someone who refuses to believe they’re loved.”

The remaining breath left your lungs in a sharp gasp. It didn’t hurt because it was cruel. It hurt because it sounded undeniably, fundamentally true. And that truth cut so much deeper than any shouting ever could.

“I’m trying to protect you from this,” you whispered, your hands curling into fabric of your shirt, right over your aching heart.

“By pretending nothing’s wrong?” Yunho asked as he finally looked back up, his eyes dull. “By letting me guess every single day what kind of mood I’m walking into?”

“What am I supposed to do when I can’t even trust my own head?” you cried, the defense finally dropping entirely, leaving only the raw, terrified human underneath. “How am I supposed to tell you what’s wrong when everything feels wrong?”

“Tell me that,” Yunho pleaded, a single tear tracking down his cheek. “Tell me you’re scared. Tell me your head is lying to you. Don’t look at me and tell me I don’t love you. Don’t erase everything I am because you’re hurting.”

You swallowed hard, the final truth rising up from the darkest corner of your mind. “I’m terrified that one day you’re going to wake up and realise I’m just too much. That the medication isn’t working, that I’m a disaster, and that you’re going to leave.”

Yunho let out a broken, shuddering breath, shaking his head. “And I’m terrified that one day I’ll come home… and you won’t be here at all.”

You froze. Your entire body went rigid, every muscle locking up as the air in your lungs turned to ice. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t blink.

Because he wasn’t just talking about you packing a bag and leaving him.

He was talking about that.

The dark, quiet corner of your mind that you never, ever spoke out loud. The place you retreated to on the worst days, where the urge to just stop existing became too much. You had thought about it. More than once. You had stood in the bathroom looking at the pill bottles; you had laid in bed wishing your heart would just forget to take its next beat. You wanted it. God help you, there were days you wanted it so badly just to make the noise stop. But you were terrified of that desire—terrified of how seductive the emptiness felt, terrified of what it meant that you were losing the will to fight your own skin. You had kept that horror buried so deep, hidden beneath layers of deflection and forced smiles. You thought it was your secret. Your private shame. But as you stared at Yunho, the absolute panic in your chest gave you away. Your pupils dilated. Your jaw slackened just a fraction, a tiny, involuntary gasp escaping your throat. Your hands, still pressed against your chest, began to shake violently.

And Yunho saw it.

He didn’t just hear your silence; he watched the exact moment the realisation registered on your face. He saw the guilt that flashed in your eyes before you could mask it. He saw the confirmation.

The look that crossed Yunho’s face in that microsecond was the most horrifying thing you had ever witnessed.

The last remaining color completely drained from his skin, leaving him a sickly, ghostly pale. His eyes widened, turning completely hollow, as if he were already looking at a corpse. The breath he took got caught in his throat. He hadn’t actually known. It had been his worst, most irrational fear—the nightmare that kept him awake at night. But seeing your reaction? Seeing the truth written plainly in your terrified eyes?

It turned his nightmare into a reality.

“Oh my god,” the words were barely a sound, just air scraping over his throat. He took a half-step back, his knees visibly trembling, as if the weight of the truth had broken his legs. “Oh my god. You... you actually...” He couldn’t even finish the sentence. The anger from before was gone, replaced by terror. He looked at you like you were slipping through his fingers right that second, like if he took his eyes off you for even a moment, you would vanish.

The realisation that he knew—that he had looked inside your head and seen the darkest thing you were hiding—finally broke the last of your strength. Your knees buckled, the energy entirely draining from your body, and you sank directly to the floor. You pulled your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself, bury your face in your shirt as a fresh wave of tears took over.

Yunho watched you collapse. He took a step forward, his hand twitching as if to reach down and pull you into his chest, but he stopped. He saw the way you were curled into yourself, and he knew if he touched you right now, you would only pull further away. Slowly, he lowered himself to the floor. He sat a few feet away from you, his back leaning against the opposite kitchen cabinets, his long legs stretched out in the space between you. He didn’t try to cross the gap. He didn’t offer a hollow promise that everything was going to be okay. He just sat there in the quiet aftermath of the storm, breathing the same heavy air, refusing to leave you alone.

The silence didn’t heal anything. It didn’t sweep away the wreckage, and it didn’t patch the tears in the fabric of whatever was left of you. It just stayed, breathing heavily alongside both of you.

Eventually, Yunho shifted. The movement was slow, and stiff, as if his joints were made of lead. He dragged a trembling hand down his face, his fingers pressing hard against his skin as if the touch might somehow clear the paralysing shock still stuck behind his eyes. He stared blankly at the edge of the counter, then down at the pattern of the floor—anywhere and everywhere except directly at you.

You stayed curled in on yourself, your forehead pressed against your knees, small and tucked away in your own body. Minutes passed. Or maybe it was only seconds. Time didn’t feel like it belonged to either of you anymore; the clock had stopped the moment the truth was laid bare.

Then, quietly—so quiet the words barely cleared the barrier of your lips—you spoke.

“Did you get the milk?”

Yunho didn’t move his head, but his eyes tracked toward the sound of your voice. The simple question seemed to travel an impossible distance through the space between you just to reach him.

A beat passed. The hum of the refrigerator filled the space between you.

“…Yeah,” he didn’t offer anything else, and you didn’t ask. But the invisible wall hadn’t just gone back up. It was a fragile, trembling truce. He had gotten the milk. He had come home. And despite the terrifying weight of everything you were both carrying, he was still sitting on the floor.

[alltoolewis]

Coming soon!

I recently confessed that I have a lot of stories in my drafts that are finished and waiting to come out so I thought I'd post what's coming on here so you'll know and can let me know which ones you want first! I will try my best to update as much as possible 🤍

Operation cupid (lewis Hamilton)- When Lewis falls head of heels for Charle's PR assistant, he struggles to string together a sentence, leading to charles, Alex and the rest of the grid to commence operation Cupid..

Until I found you (Arthur Leclerc)- reader is friends with alex and reader has some trauma to do with a specific date but alex forgot and did something with charles so reader was all alone and somehow meets arthur and you can decide how it goes from there.

Worth it (lando norris)- When someone accidentally injuries you while you are watching the race, you beg the team to not tell Lando after the race....

Matilda (arthur leclerc) -Can you write something were Arthur and reader have been dating for a few months and it's a very soft and gentle love. Reader has never felt love like this. One night when they are cuddling, Arthur asks reader to have dinner with his family. She already met Charles and Alex at a race but reader is still very nervous. Especially because she doesn't have a close relationship with her family and she never really talks about them. They never showed her love and that's why she is a bit nervous. You can decide if reader tells him about her family. But the dinner with his family goes very well and they all immediately love her. Maybe someone asks something about her family but reader changes the topic quickly. Just Arthur being a protective and sweet boyfriend and his family are all very sweet to reader

Wrapped in love (carlos alcaraz)- You find it difficult to accept an expensive gift from carlos...

When camera's stop flashing (carlos alcaraz)- Your an aspiring actress who is hiding a secret illness, he's tennis's number one! How could PR relationship possibly go wrong??

More than this (lando norris)- When Lando's new girlfriend tells you to back off, you make the difficult decision to take a step back leaving your childhood best friend confused!

Safe with him (arthur leclerc) - after a very difficult childbirth, arthurs family finally meet the newest leclerc and there not just in awe of the baby boy but also Arthurs new role...

wrong brother (arthur leclerc)- can i request an arthur fic where maybe he’s secretly dating the reader (she’s famous in her own right, like a singer or an actress maybe) and people start shipping her with charles so he gets frustrated. maybe eventually they’re seen out together and the world is shocked.

Trust fall (lando norris) - What you thought would be a suprise for you world champion turns out to be your worst nightmare as he thinks you are cheating on him with his teammate...

[pierce-the-chaos]

Easy Lovers

a/n: i am having a field day with this man. writing him is a bit difficult but reading him is SO GOOD. might post a short continued blurb of this story if people like it :3

Sunday x reader

1k words

warnings: none

You walked into the parlor, seeing Dan Heng, Sunday, March, and Himeko seated at different spots throughout the car. March and Himeko seemed to be playing some sort of game, while Sunday read a book and Dan Heng examined something. You sat by Dan Heng asking him what he was doing, and gave a brief chuckle when he explained. Sunday couldn’t help but peek at you over the cover of his novel, feeling somewhat upset that you had chosen to sit with the Vidyadhara instead of him. He’d been experiencing some inner turmoil lately, not that the feeling was new to him, though the source was. Sunday had found himself anticipating your arrival more lately, paying more attention to you, and craving your presence. It hadn’t taken him long to realize, but he was thoroughly unhappy with the outcome. Sunday was an organized man- everything he did was planned and orderly, meticulous even. This, though? He had not planned for this, not even a little, and it irked him greatly. In some ways, you were the exact opposite. You were messy, spontaneous, and clumsy, but kind and thoughtful. You were perfectly imperfect. Something about the way you gave yourself so freely to others endeared you to him. You were honest, you baked for the express members regularly, you were so, so patient, even when Sunday was not. You had nothing but love in your heart. You loved giving, loved your friends, you loved the world. Sunday saw in you what he was not, and in that, he found something worth protecting. Maybe, he thought, he saw something worth loving.

Everyone remained in the parlor until it grew late, and they gradually retired to their rooms. You and Dan Heng remained along with Sunday, who felt ill as he saw the two of you laugh together. Eventually, you yawned and stretched your arms above your head. “You should sleep soon.” Dan Heng commented. 

“Yeah, I probably should. Goodnight, then, Dan Heng.” 

“Goodnight.”

The two of you left, and Sunday sighed, closing his book and making his way to his room shortly after. He changed into his pajamas and turned on a small lamp, filling the room with soft, warm light. He sat for a moment and ran a hand through his silver hair, mulling over his inability to engage with you. It seemed so easy for you to talk to him, like it felt natural. For Sunday, though, everything before the express had been a game. His conversations were calculated and had hidden meaning behind each of them. Now that he had the opportunity to speak freely, he felt like he didn’t know how. After a while, a timid knock at the door startled him out of his thoughts. He got up and slid the door open, revealing you, dressed in pajamas and clutching a small pillow. Sunday felt his mouth run dry, managing to choke out, “What are you doing here so late?” You shifted your weight absentmindedly while you murmured, “Couldn’t sleep.” He stepped to the side so you could enter and closed the door behind you. Sunday sat on the edge of his bed and gestured for you to do the same. The two of you sat in silence for a moment before he wondered aloud, “Anything bothering you?” You shook your head. “Just not feeling well.” He turned his head to examine you as you sat gazing downwards with the pillow held close. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He said, silently berating himself for not being able to answer more considerately. You shook your head, saying, “It’s fine. I just didn’t know where else to go.” He raised an eyebrow, heart speeding up at the thought that you might trust him enough to come to him before anyone else. Silence fell for a minute again as you fidgeted with the hem of your pajama shorts. Sunday spoke up again, “Bad dream?” You nodded and your grip on the pillow in your arms grew tighter. “You can always come here.” He said reassuringly. You peered up at him hesitantly, and he prayed that his lightly blushed cheeks wouldn’t betray him.

“Sunday,” You said quietly. “Thank you.” He furrowed his brow.

“What for?”

“For entertaining me. Even if it’s just for a bit.”

He offered you a relaxed smile. “It’s no problem at all. I enjoy your company.” You smiled widely, stating, “I enjoy your company too.” Sunday’s wings fluttered a bit at that, making you huff in amusement. Seemingly out of nowhere, you asked, “What do you do?”

He gave you a bemused look. “A lot of things, I suppose. I enjoy playing instruments and reading, among other things.”

“Will you play for me sometime?”

His expression changed to one of pleasant surprise. “Sure.” You decided to pry further, wondering, “What do you play?”

“Piano, violin… That’s pretty much it.”

“Still, that’s amazing. I couldn’t play an instrument to save my life.”

Sunday smiles, pondering what’s going on in that pretty head of yours. Like usual, your thoughts are all over the place. At this point, he thinks he’s pretty much figured out that you say anything that comes to mind and is appropriate for the situation. You looked out of the window into the dark space beyond, flecked with gleaming stars. Sunday took a moment to appreciate your dreamy gaze as you admired them. How he longed to tell you that you were his most radiant star…

“How long are you going to keep staring at me?”

Sunday’s eyes widened. How long did you know he was looking at you? 

“There’s a reflection in the glass, silly.” Right, he should have taken that into account. “Ah, well, I-I’m very sorry.” He choked out, his face flushed and wings threatening to cover his face. You turned to face him and, with a grin, said, “It’s no matter. I’m just glad you feel the same.” Sunday’s embarrassment turned to bewilderment. “...Feel the same?” He questioned. He had to be absolutely sure of what you meant before he said anything else. 

Your smile dropped. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Sunday. I thought you- we-”

He took your hand in both of his and, with a breath, he managed to confirm, “I have feelings for you.” The beaming smile returned to your face, and Sunday exhaled a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. You lifted your free hand up to gingerly push away one of the wings that hovered near his face. “Me too.”

Sunday took you in his arms- warm and comforting. You leaned into him, and for a moment, the world was Sunday. In that instant, you felt as if it was all you needed.

[2wolf2star]

Every month on the 2Wolf2Star discord server we have monthly writing prompts that can be used by our members to create fics, fan art, playlists, or anything else that they can come up with! Here are some of fics that were born from November's prompts.

Would you like to participate in December's Wobbles? Come join us on Discord (invite link in pinned post!) Otherwise, please be sure to kudos and comment on these absolutely wonderful fics!

lover's moon. by @heysaykitkat

Remus starts to notice it after he turns thirty-nine. [E | 3,513]

Something beautiful by @brandileigh2003

Remus has always loved autumn but it'll forever be his favorite season because it marks the beginning of two wonderful things. [T | 2,709]

Revenge is best served egg-shaped by brandileigh2003

“Wait? What happened? What did Regulus do to you?” Sirius asked Remus. Peter burst out laughing and Sirius really did not like this at all. Remus pulled off his hat, and it took Sirius a moment. His face must have gone through every emotion possible because Remus ducked his head. [T | 1,218]

Today's Special: Sirius Black's Feelings by @the-verity

Sirius thought things were finally settling: a safe job, good friends, and a steadily inconvenient crush on Remus Lupin. What he was not prepared for was a smug ghost showing up to bully him into doing something about said crush. [T | 5,916]

i’ve been scared of crowded places by The_Verity

The villagers think Sirius is ill. Remus just thinks he’s worth fighting for. [T | 2,636]

An Autumn Walk on the Beach by @sliebman10

Sirius and Remus look after and bond with their grandson, James, while Harry is otherwise occupied. [G | 533]

The Case of the Midnight Barber by @emperorem

Four university students must solve a rather disturbing mystery. [T | 1,628]

Charming by @puuvillaa

Remus runs into his old boyfriend, who says something that gets Remus thinking about his looks. [T | 1,852]

Falling for Fall by @birdiesnest

Sirius decides to find out why Remus loves the fall so much, and finds himself falling along the way. [T | 2,143]

All For One by @stellarusername

It was difficult enough being a werewolf, trying to manage classes and learning when once every month his body did its best to rip itself apart. He had been surprised to make any friends to begin with, let alone ones as… as kind and brave as James and Sirius, and even Peter. Friends who had stuck around when they learned his "furry little secret", and even went on to become animagi. For him. And yet, as Remus stared in the mirror, he doubted they'd be willing to stick by him now. Not when he looked so… different. [G | 1,438]

Autumn's Colors by @je-suis-imparfait

Five drabbles about falling in love, written for 2wolf2star's Wolfstar Wobbles. [G | 500]

Those fucking hands... by @dorythewritingfish

There is this really hot customer at the coffee shop Remus works at. He asks Remus out... [M | 878]

snatched by @fvckyouimaprophet

Abandon hope all ye who enter here. Or Sirius has, at least, since he’s been charmed to be bald for the day. [G | 800]

too good to be true (can’t take my eyes off you) by @barkingatthemooninsteadofwriting

Remus sighs as he pauses on the pavement outside the cafe, running a hand through his hair and tugging at his scarf, stomach squirming from nerves. He assures himself that everything will probably be fine, trying to take a deep breath and wheezing instead, coughing a little before he swallows almost convulsively. It’s just a hangout with some of his new friends from uni. Casual. It will be totally fine. He rethinks that assessment as soon as he pulls open the door and steps into the almost humid warmness of the coffee shop, feeling frozen as a pair of striking gray eyes glance in his direction and pause, watching as his lips pull up into a wide smile the longer Remus stands there like an idiot. [G | 1,730]

[anzidius]

Introductory post !! 

Hi!! My users anzidius but you can call me dizzy! She/her 21+

I'm a Artist + Fanfic Writer of all things TES and other video game fandoms (+ Fallout new vegas, outlast trials, Metal gear solid etc)  Along with avid music enjoyer (metal, rock, indie, pop etc)

This is mainly a TES blog since its been my fixation for as long as i can remember. I will mainly use this platform to write and draw my TES ocs / Reblog other tes related things or stuff i find funny.

And also to interact with the fandom, i see so many incredible artists and writers it truly did inspire me to share my own stories <3 Feel free to DM me or become moots, i always love more friends in the fantasy genre/ yap to with. Please note i am very awkward/shy but i promise i mean no ill intent by it, im trying my best !! i love new friends

I have a lot of unposted lore (I'm talking 900+ pages worth), but after being a long time lurker I decided to oblivion with it. I'm cringe but I am free. Now keep in mind although i'm a long time lurker of tumblr I'm not well versed in posting so bear with me on that! (Formatting too i'm learning) this is my first time ever posting something so yah,,,

Do be warned because i am 21 i may post suggestive art but nothing nsfw//

Eventually I will start posting Amber and Mithrils story to AO3! (Along with the other guys!) However because its currently 700 pages it will take me awhile to reformat it and learn how to post on AO3 in the first place. I'm an avid reader there, just never posted. 

Tags i will be using for art is #My art or #my writing for one shots

I work on a xpen 15.6 pro and clip studio paint! Been drawing since i was about 7 years old <3 Amber being my oldest oc out of the main cast creating her when i was around 13

I post on Instagram, Toyhouse and Artfight

(strawpage/Carrd coming soon)

My OCS currently —>

— Skyrim Era —

Mithril Tahromoth - Ex-thalmor of noble blood. Interrogator/torturer of turned arch mage of the college. (In short, he's my absolute favorite boy and my comfort character) Evil ahh emotional blonde elf

He specialized in necromancy/daedra research eventually losing his mind from the pressure and insanity that comes with necromancy he killed his entire division working alongside him in the thalmor and was spared from death because of his noble blood but not without punishment! (aka the scar on his neck and nose that never heals) He was assigned to skyrim to convert and control the dragonborn amber using his skills acquired from years of brainwashing/torturing people. Eventually becoming open minded to nordic culture not having to fight for a shred of happiness/respect he fell in love with the dragonborn and faked both of their deaths until leyrious could secure protection from Thalmor prosecution. He agreed to join the college of winterhold and leyrious’s mages guild as one where mithril works under leyrious doing daedric research and spreading magic influence. 

Amber Fjerdottir - Nord Dragonborn werewolf lord and proud companion/harbinger. 

She became a werewolf lord after her village full of hircine worshippers got raided by silver hand. Hircine saw her fight to the death even if she was terrified and awarded her to be a lord at the cost of massacring both the silver hand AND her entire village/family cannibalising them in the blind rage caused by hircine. Had major survivor guilt but carried on living until the silver hand came back for revenge chasing her out, she ran to whiterun and was captured by guards before the silver hand could find her. On the brink of execution she was offered to be rehabilitated by the companions and she learned to live amongst people boring wolf-like physical features leading to hate crimes and fear in everybody she met. She became dragonborn after saving towns folk from a dragon, got assigned a thalmor agent (mithril) as per jarls agreement to become a handler/overseer of the dragon crisis. Ignored his moody and violent tendencies breaking him down until he was softer as he realized she wasn't a monster that everyone saw her as and vice versa (they have a matching belly scar) Faking her death alongside mithril and spreading the influence of the companions and pushing back personally against the thalmors attacks on her and mithrils lives along with their future children.

(Credit link for the lovely art above of Mithril And Amber)

— Oblivion Era —

Leyrious Anzidius – Imperial captain guard obsessed with magical artifacts as he has to constantly fight assasination attempts on his life. Blackmailed Eve Vilvas to gather artifacts on his behalf, falling in love with her. After the imperial city collapsed he took over as arch mage after his fallen friend mania died in the crisis serving for hundreds of years saving mithril from thalmor prosecution in the 4th era

Eve Vilvas – Leader of the thieves guild/ The gray fox. Trafficked by a vampire cult for her blood amongst other victims eventually escaping and turning herself. Too ashamed to go back to morrowind with her family for her vampiric curse and no way to earn an honest living she worked her way up thieving until she became the gray fox giving others a chance at life through the same means and a way out. She fell in love with leyrious and sacrificed her ‘life’ protecting him from a fatal assassination attempt turning ‘feral’ running off feeding on people without a right mind for 5 years until leyrious was able to capture and cure her completely, marrying her. 

(Credit link for Incredible Art of Leyrious And Eve above <3)

Mania – Born an orphan in the imperial city, her arcana ability was off the charts as a child, eventually dueling with her rival Vasdul the khajit. She blew a hole in the wall of her church/orphanage and got exiled. From there Vasdul and mania worked alongside each other becoming arch mage and defeating mannimarco establishing a long peace until the oblivion crisis came and she became the hero of kvatch assisting martin to defeat mehrunes dagon. In the process becoming the god of madness by the other daedric princes. 

(Credit link for the wonderful art of mania the prince of madness above!)

—

I hope this wasn't too long but thank you anyways for reading! And i apologise for anything i may be missing or formatting incorrectly, im still learning to post here.

There's a ton of side characters however the ones listed above are the main cast! I hope you all enjoy them. They are my pride and joy, I've been developing them for years and I'm excited to share more! 

Along with get to know all of you <3

[thgfanspotlights]

@thesunpersists | thesunpersists | Eli

What's your THG origin story?

I read the first book when it first came out in my language in 2009, when I was in middle school. Back then, my best friend and I read everything we could get our hands on and spent all our time talking about them. We were instantly hooked on THG, and Peeta was our favorite character. When the cover for MJ was announced, we were so excited and had it as our MSN Messenger profile pictures for a long while. (Yes, both of us had the same random picture of a bird; it must have looked so weird to others!) We shared so many other interests and life experiences over the years, but THG remained a constant, and we saw the TBOSAS movie together the day it came out. 🫶🏼

What are your favorite things about the series?

The trilogy stands up so well to rereading. I can sit down and read all three books on a weekend for the millionth time, and not just enjoy myself but also discover something new about the universe. 

What’s something about the series that’s stayed with you or become more meaningful to you over time?

Gale is one of the characters I relate to the most, mostly due to his politics. I think a lot about this line: “Safe to do what? Starve? Work like slaves? Send their kids to the reaping?” When I first read the series as a middle schooler, my understanding of the political issues it depicted was vastly different. I think back then, I thought of the Games and the reality of Panem as metaphors or an exaggeration of our times. But now, it is clearer to me that the way our political systems kill due to neglect, discrimination, or ill intention is not very different from what happens in Panem. As a result, I now relate to so many of the characters more deeply. I also love how so much of the series is about mental health, preserving human life because of its innate worth, and the effects of physical pain on one’s psychology. I work with refugees and survivors of torture, and I find myself thinking about particular concepts or scenes from the book often. 

On a more personal note, my partner was incarcerated for political reasons a couple of years back.* It was, granted, a lot less serious than what Katniss and Peeta went through, but that experience made me see Mockingjay in a whole new light and feel understood. There is still a lot of pain, anxiety, and resentment associated with that experience for us, but there is also resilience and unexpected bits of humor. This is why, when I think of post-Mockingjay Everlark, I project some of my experience onto them and see them as much closer to a ‘normal’ couple than others might.

*The letters we wrote each other during that time ended up inspiring a fic, so… not a total loss overall. 🫣 

What's something you want the fandom to know about you?

That I’m always trying to be more present and engage with more of your fanwork! I constantly feel like I am not doing enough and should be more active and encouraging. So if I’m ever falling short (or come across overly enthusiastic and weird you out), just know I mean well. ❤️

When did you begin creating? What inspired you to begin?

In late 2023, I was severely underemployed and had a lot of time on my hands. So I reread the trilogy a couple of times in the span of a month and joined Tumblr and AO3. Shortly after, I had the idea to write a growing back together fic, which I suspect is the origin story for many Everlark creators. I worked on my fic for a couple of months before sharing it. I never fancied myself someone who could successfully write fiction, but I was surprised by how much I learned and how fulfilling it was to share my work with others. I was thinking I would have one story and be done. But soon, I was sucked into fandom events, collections, and ask games, and I found the whole thing to be so inspiring, and here I am almost two years later. 

What is your favorite thing to depict in your work?

I love modern AUs and messy, struggling characters! Romantic comedies and sitcoms are the biggest influences on my stories, and it’s fun trying to recreate some of those concepts with THG characters.

What’s your personal favorite of your works?

Go, Write Me a Letter is the one I’m happiest with! I find it so lighthearted and romantic. 

If you could recommend just one, which would it be?

The Commons. All our collabs with @Mollywog are like my babies, but I love the different formats we’re trying with this one. We have so much fun (even when we’re just talking about stuff that may not make it to the page) and I’d like to think that the readers can tell, too!

Tell us about an OC of yours. What inspired them and what purpose do they serve in your works?

Here’s another thing I should get better at: creating OCs! In my work, they mainly serve a purpose for a scene or two, and then get forgotten without being properly fleshed out. That being said, the one I like the most these days is Alice from Love Letters by Proxy. She’s Peeta’s sister in law and meddles quite a lot in his love life. She’s nicer than she sounds, I swear, and I was happy to have someone in his corner since things will get worse for Peeta before they’ll get better. 

Anyone you would like to shout out in the fandom?

I have so much fun co-writing (or just chatting!) with @mollywog and @districtunrest. They are so creative and talented, and I’m beyond grateful we got to kickstart this spotlight project together. 

Of course, I can’t not mention @unnamednarrator! It was an absolute pleasure betaing her amazing modern AU, i love you i’m sorry, and she’s currently betaing my WIPs. She’s such a good writer and a great friend, and I’m so happy our paths crossed. 

All my interactions in this fandom are super positive, so I'm doubtless forgetting many many of you, and I'd also like to shoutout: @notsocooljess @groceryreceipts @rainymyx @louezem @moonlightredfern @mage-chocolate @thesweetnessofspring @princesspufflesposts @shewakessupwiththesun

Thanks for making this place fun!