#// especially between two people dealing with a lot of mental instability

[holalinkkk]

Okay I’m seeing a lot of “Stolas shouldn’t have sprung everything onto Blitzø all at once and he should’ve given Blitzø time to process” but 1. This talk was soooo long overdue that it’s better that Stolas was as clear as possible and got everything off of his chest because their communication has been pretty awful thus far and 2. Blitzø was kinda the one who started heavily insulting Stolas while following him down the hallway? I don’t blame Stolas for teleporting Blitzø out, they both were very hurt in the conversation and anything further said probably wasn’t going to help the situation at all. I just hate how the fandom has to make one or the other into the bad person in the relationship like???

[heavenlyvision]

More than friends

Word Count: 21.9k

Pairing: Johnny Cage x F!Reader

Read part one ˗ˏˋhereˎˊ˗

A/N: Okie dokie ! It is finished,,, I hope you all enjoy it and that it lives up to your expectations. I apologise for it taking so long ! I've been struggling with motivation to write lately but I am pretty proud of this big one and thank you for being so patient !!! <33

Summary: Temporarily living with Johnny has it's challenges, especially since he still isn't being upfront about his feelings or your relationship.

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, mentions of anxiety/panic attacks, mentions of stalking (ex), alcohol consumption, minor harrassment (ex), mental instablity (ex), minor mentions of violence, arguments, mean!Johnny, possessive/jealous!Johnny, reader has a nightmare, masturbation, thigh riding, biting, cunnilingus, grinding, creampie (?), minor dacryphilia, vaginal fingering, minor overstimulation, no use of y/n

MDNI

The past few days with Johnny have been good, you have mostly been watching movies and playing board games. He offered you a deal – for every movie you watch, you have to watch one of his after. A fine deal by any means… if you hadn’t already seen them. Being friends with Johnny means watching all of his movies at least once but it seems like staying here has given him the opportunity to make you watch them all again.

If he hadn’t been so kind and you weren’t so worried about being ungrateful or overstaying your welcome, you would complain and kick up more of a fuss but all in all, you don’t really mind. It’s not like his movies are bad… okay, some of them are definitely not good but he’s still in them so you don’t really mind. He’s a good actor and a good-looking man so it makes sitting through the lesser of his films bearable, that and he’s always so happy when you watch them together, how could you turn him down.

You needed a break from his movies though, which has resulted in a game of trivial pursuit and while you can’t prove it… you think he’s cheating, “This isn’t fun when it’s only two people playing,” you complain.

He’s leaning back on his palms and smiling cockily at you, you’re both sat facing each other with his coffee table in between, the game sat atop and looking at it, you can see just how far behind you are.

“You’re only saying that because you’re losing,” he snickers back at you.

You scowl at him, “Who knows things like…” you pick up another card and read it out, “When the first movie trailer was shown?”

He lightly rolls his eyes, “1913 and plenty of people would know that!”

“No! People don’t just know that?�� You’re exasperated with him; he has to know that’s not common knowledge and it’s odd that he knows that off the top of his head.

He shrugs at you, smug smile on his face, “I guess I’m just that good.”

You squint at him, annoyed that he is apparently a trivia god, “Or just that odd.”

“I may be odd but you’re the one dying to get fucked by me,” he wiggles his eyebrows at you.

You groan at him and feel yourself grow hot in the face, “Whatever, just pick a new card.” You flick the card you’re holding at him and he laughs as it falls flat before hitting him.

He’s incredibly happy with himself, now using your desire for him as some kind of punchline. He’s not touched you again, not since the incident on the couch. It’s not like you’ve not made your move either, you’ve tried enticing him and every time he looks so close to folding before he gathers himself and moves forward. For a man who flirts relentlessly with you, he sure does have a lot of self-control.

Your phone buzzes on the table and you pick it up to look, face immediately twisting into an expression of displeasure.

“You good?” Johnny asks.

Placing your phone down, you look to him and answer, “Mhm, yeah… it’s just work.”

He raises a brow at you, “Again?”

You hum at him because yes, again.

Work has been messaging you fairly frequently to see if you’ve gotten ‘better’, you haven’t gone back yet, you used a few of your sick days so you could get some time off after the traumatic event of your ex breaking into and trashing your apartment but management seems to be getting pissy with you, so you will have to go back soon.

Something that had surprised you was Johnny also taking a few days off work to stay with you, you think he’s apprehensive about leaving you alone, which you can’t blame him… you don’t really want to be alone. You haven’t told him that though, you would never ask him to put you above his work.

Johnny sits up, no longer leaning on his hands, “What did they say?”

“They’re just asking how I feel… if I’m better,” you hesitate slightly, “I think I’ll go back tomorrow.”

“I don’t think you should.” He replies quickly.

This is not the first time he’s shown upset at the prospect of you going back to work, “I have to, I still have to pay for my apartment you know.”

He looks at you sincerely, “You know I would pay for anything you need me to.”

“And you know that I’m not comfortable with that,” you retort.

He’s offered to cover the cost of everything for you multiple times now and every time he brings it up, you shoot him down.

“I just don’t love the idea of you going back there, not with your ex still…” his face turns up in disgust, “Existing.”

You chuckle slightly, “It should be fine.”

You say that but you are worried about possibly running into him too, you don’t know if he’s still lingering around your neighbourhood or not. Which, speaking of your apartment, you’re waiting to hear back from your landlord on whether or not the door has been fixed.You’re also dreading having to go back though, you’ve been putting it off for days now. You were supposed to go back for pyjamas but instead Johnny has been letting you live in his shirts.

“Just take tomorrow off, one more day,” he gives you puppy dog eyes. When you don’t immediately reply, he adds, batting his eyelashes at you, “For me?”

Your lips downturn at his stupidity, “Ugh fine, just stop looking at me like that.”

He smiles brightly at you, “Cool! We can watch more of my movies tomorrow.”

You shoot back, “Don’t you have a job?”

“Making you watch all my movies is part of my job,” he jokes.

You whinge out at him, “But I’ve already seen them all~.”

“And now you’re watching them all again~,” he mocks you, smile big and with how proud of himself he is, the weight of his pride might crush you.

“You’re lucky I think you’re cute,” you grumble.

He chuckles at you, “Is that the only reason you’re watching all my movies? Because you want to sleep with me?”

“I’m not going to say you’re completely wrong,” you tease.

He places a hand over his heart, “Do you like any of my movies?”

“Your movies, or movies you’ve starred in?” You clarify.

He’s examining you carefully, “Both.”

You don’t have to think about it, “I like your movies,” you admit, “But you have starred in some questionable ones.”

He points a finger gun at you, “Touché.”

“Are we done playing yet?” You lament, referencing the almost forgotten game of trivial pursuit.

“Are you done pretending you still have a chance at winning?” He counters.

“Never.”

He rolls his eyes playfully at your stubbornness, “What if I said I’d fuck you right now if you’d admit you’ve lost.”

Your heart stutters in your chest and if you felt like he was being serious, you would fold and tell him he’s the all-time winner of trivial pursuit but you know him and you know he’s only teasing, “I’d tell you that you’re being mean and that I’d also sooner die before admitting premature defeat.”

“That’s a real shame,” he hums.

You’re getting annoyed with him; he keeps doing this to you. Relentlessly teasing you with no follow through, not even so much as a kiss. You get up on your knees and shuffle over to him, you end up right in his lap, his hands move to your hips instinctually.

He smirks at you, “And what are you trying to accomplish right now, doll?”

“You’ve been really mean, Johnny,” you pout at him.

“How can I fix it?” he asks.

You feel timid, shy, “You can stop pretending like the other night never happened.”

He’s serious as he answers, “I’m not pretending anything; I know it happened.”

“You’ve not even…” You trail off, now worried that you read into things too much and that you’re still just friends.

“Sugar, I’ve not stopped thinking about it,” he confesses.

You hesitate but probe, “So, you still want me?”

He almost has an air of confusion about him, baffled by your doubt, “Never stopped.”

“Then why haven’t you even kissed me again?” Your brows upturn at him.

His hand moves to hold your face, his thumb stroking high on your cheekbone, “Worried I’m not gonna be able to control myself.”

You lean into his hand slightly, “Don’t want you to.”

He groans, “See, you saying stuff like that doesn’t help,”

“Can I have one kiss?” you mimic the way he bat his eyelashes at you earlier, tacking on, “Please?”

He groans at you, pained, “How could I possibly say no?”

His hand on the the side of your face tilts your head and his lips brush over yours, the small contact electrifying to you. It feels like it’s been so long since he’s kissed you and being this close to him is making you dizzy. He teases you with his proximity, holding you close but never actually kissing you. Just as you’re about to huff out in annoyance at him, he pushes his lips to yours.

The kiss is hot, his mouth insistent and full, your shock gives him the chance to stick his tongue inside your mouth, licking at you. You moan into him, your body relaxing completely, incredibly content to be placated by his lips. His hand on your hip holds you tight, his fingers digging in, attempting to ground himself.

His own moans are muffled by the kiss, you’re affecting him just as much as he thought you would. He begrudgingly pulls away from you, knowing if he keeps kissing you, he’ll lose his mind and end up making you cum for him in anyway he can think of. You whinge as he pulls back and he can’t help the incredibly smug expression on his face at the sound, forever feeling self-pleased by how needy you are for him.

He purrs at you, “Happy?”

“You could make me happier,” you retort.

He only chuckles at you in response before asking, “You gonna admit to losing trivial pursuit?”

You frown at him, “Absolutely not!”

“Then sit your ass back over on your side of the coffee table and answer your question like a good girl,” his tone is a teasing kind of firmness.

You plant a single full kiss on his lips before crawling back over to your side, Johnny’s eyes stay glued to your ass as you shuffle across the carpet. His mind immediately filling with images of his cock pile driving into you while your back is arched for him. This was supposed to be a wholesome game and now he’s thinking of fucking you into the carpet while making you answer trivia questions.

You grumble at him, “You’re so mean to me.”

“I’d feel worse about it if you didn’t seem to enjoy it so much,” he’s incredibly glib right now, completely correct about his effect on you.

“You’re wrong,” you try denying.

“Really?” he raises a brow to you, “Because I seem to remember your pretty little pussy gripping my fingers awfully tight when I was ‘mean’ to you.”

Your face heats up again, “Just pick out a card,” you mumble.

His grin is Cheshire like, “Whatever you want, sugar.” He picks up a new card, “What is the literary term for a word that describes a sound?”

You know this one and you smile brightly, “Onomatopoeia!” you point at him excitedly.

He laughs at your excitement, “You got it.”

You have a small celebratory moment to yourself before you pull out a new card, “If you know this one I’m gonna scream.”

He’s confident in his trivia abilities, “Get ready to yell, doll.”

You read from the card, “What is the year of the first recorded flight?”

“1903,” he smiles cockily, completely sure that he’s right.

And he is, you glare at him and grumble out, “You’re correct.”

“I know,” his tone is self-satisfied.

You don’t win trivial pursuit but you do take pride in not giving up, you may not be good at trivia but you’re proud of yourself for seeing it through. Some may call it stubbornness but you think it shows strength to sit there and try like hell to win even when defeat is right in front of you. You gave it your best shot and you had fun. You will get better at trivia though… he won’t be winning next time. Not that you’re competitive or anything.

✰ ✰ ✰

In the morning you’re woken up by your phone buzzing by your head, sleepily you squint at your screen and see that it’s work trying to call you again. You grumble annoyed at how persistent they are but relent and answer.

“Are you feeling better yet?” Your managers voice is sharp and his question is straight to the point. You’re a bit taken aback by how direct and grumpy he is, you don’t even get to say anything before he continues, “Listen, we’ve been swamped here, unless you’re actively dying, it would be best if you came in. Best for you I mean.”

You don’t miss his threat, your job is now on the line if you don’t go in but with how he’s being such a dick you try to negotiate, “I can come in tomorrow.”

“Today would be best,” he sighs, you don’t answer him and he grunts at you, “Fine, come in tomorrow, if you’re not in tomorrow, you’re getting cut from the roster.”

“Alright, see you–” he didn’t even let you finish your goodbye; he’s already hung up on you. Bastard.

You stare up at the ceiling, your mood for the day already completely ruined, you feel badly because you know you’re lying to work and they do need help but you’re also having a hard time bringing yourself to leave Johnny’s apartment, let alone go back to your neighbourhood. The thought of him being there sends a cold spike of anxiety through you, he did all that to your home, what is he planning to do to you? It’s a frightening thought.

You lay motionless on your mattress for a while, too anxious to go back to sleep but also too tired to get up. Clattering can be heard in the kitchen though and you’re concerned as to what Johnny is attempting to do so you haul yourself up, out of the bed and into his kitchen.

When you make your way into the main area you can see Johnny making pancakes… you think? Mostly, it just looks like he’s making a mess, “What are you doing?”

“Shit–” He jumps at the sound of your voice, dropping the spatula he was holding onto the ground, “I wasn’t expecting you to be awake so early,” he mumbles out as he bends down to retrieve it.

Your tone is amused as you ask again, “What are you doing?”

“Making breakfast,” he sighs.

You walk over to him and see he’s made a complete mess of the kitchen; he’s used far too many bowls for what he’s made. He also seems to have made up some pancake mix two separate times before using the one he is holding now.

You come up beside him and look over what he’s doing, “Why did you make so much mix?”

“The other ones had a weird texture,” he’s focusing hard on tipping some of the mix into the pan.

You want to comment on how he could be doing things better but you’re so appreciative of his efforts and you don’t want to sound like a know it all. But you can’t help but cringe as the bowl slips a bit and gets all over his hand.

He groans out, “I dunno how you did this so effortlessly, I’m killing myself here, doll.” You’re distracted by how he lifts his hand to his mouth and licks some of the batter off, he notices and smiles at you knowingly, moving his hand in front of your face he asks, “Want a taste, sugar?”

Wordlessly, your wrap your lips around his index finger, sucking it clean. Johnny groans at the sight of it, not expecting you to be so willing, he was only joking around but now you’re gently suckling on his finger and he’s about to pass out over it.

You pull back slowly and kiss the tip of his finger when you’re done cleaning it. He’s looking at you like you’ve hung the moon and stars in the sky and you can only huff out an amused laugh at him.

“Move over,” you shoo him away, “I will make the pancakes, you can start cleaning up,” you reach out for the mixing bowl he was holding.

He hands it to you reluctantly, “I was trying to make breakfast for you.”

“And I appreciate it so much but you’re going to make a mess of yourself if you continue,” you place the bowl off to the side and flip the pancake that was still in the pan, it’s too thick and also a little extra crispy thanks to the both of you getting distracted.

He comes up behind you, his arms trapping you against the bench, he leans in over your shoulder, “Would you clean me up if I did?” His words are suggestive, far from innocent.

You turn it back on him, “Would you let me?”

His head drops to your shoulder, resting there, “I want to, doll. Bad.”

“You’re the only one stopping it,” you hum out, focusing on the task at hand, trying to ignore how close he is to you.

He stays close to you as you make the pancakes, his hands move from the bench to your hips, his hands hold onto you, lightly pawing at you, “Why are you up so early anyways? I thought I had more time.”

“Work called me again, woke me up,” you mutter, already knowing Johnny’s going to be pissed that they’ve rung you again.

“Was it that asshole again?” He asks, referencing your manager.

You flip a pancake over in the pan, “Yeah, they’re short staffed and need my help.”

Johnny’s arms wrap around you more, holding you to him as his head turns into your neck, “I hope you said no.”

“I did but I feel bad, I have to go in tomorrow,” you tell him.

“You do not, not if you aren’t ready to be back there,” his arms squeeze you just the tiniest bit tighter, comforting you. He knows how frightened you are to go back to that neighbourhood.

One of your hands reaches down and holds his hand for a moment, “I appreciate the sentiment but I do have to go back, he threatened my job.”

“He what?” Johnny bristles behind you, moving to stand tall, turning you around to face him, “What the hell did he say?”

“It’s nothing that bad, he just said it would be ‘best’ for me if I came in tomorrow,” you wince slightly as you repeat your managers message.

Johnny’s scowl deepens, severely pissed off with your manager, “He’s such a dick, I don’t like him.”

“Not many people do but I can also understand his frustrations at the moment, plus… I’m not even sick, so…” You feel sheepish and you turn away from him, pouring the last of the batter into the pan.

Johnny scoffs from behind you, “So what? As far as he’s concerned you are sick and it’s not like you’re taking the time off for kicks. After what you’ve been through, you deserve some time off.”

He’s making you feel emotional, you don’t like thinking about what happened too hard, it’s still too fresh. You purse your lips and focus on the pancake sizzling in the pan instead of the slight burn in your eyes from holding back tears.

He places his hand on your shoulder, “You deserve to go to work without fear.”

Now why did he go and say that? You can’t help but cry silently as you flip the pancake, you’re trying so hard to hide it, blinking away your tears as soon as they form. Johnny knows though, he knows he touched a sore spot for you but he was genuinely only trying to help.

“Oh doll,” he sighs out at you, pulling you into his arms. You turn into him and cling on, needing the comfort right now. He lets you cry into his shirt for a moment, your tears no doubt soaking into the fabric. His hands rub up and down your back, trying to soothe you.

You remember the pancake though and sniffle into his shirt, “The pancake is going to burn.”

He takes the spatula from you and flips it onto the plate, “All better,” he places the utensil back down and moves his other hand back to you, “You worry about the silliest of things.”

You laugh dryly into him, “So do you.” He holds you in his kitchen for a bit as you will yourself to stop crying, you’re worried about the pancakes getting cold, “Hot pancakes are better than cold ones.”

His hands stop moving on your back and his head tilts down to you, “Is that your way of telling me you want to eat the pancakes now?”

“I am worried about them getting cold,” your face is still pressed into his shirt, your words slightly mumbled.

He shrugs at you, “I’m not.”

You make a face that he can’t see, it’s one of displeasure, “You should be… cold pancakes are bad.”

He dismisses, “They aren’t that bad.”

You’re still teary eyed but you pull back and look at him with as serious an expression as you can muster, “Cage… don’t eat cold pancakes.”

He smiles at you, happy to see your face again. His hand cups the side of your face, “There she is, my pretty doll.”

His words make your skin grow hot and you look away, he’s smiling big though, always happy to embarrass you.

You look at the pancakes on the bench, “Let’s just eat, yeah?”

“Whatever you want, sugar,” he pulls his hand away but not before booping the tip of your nose gently.

You sigh at him but move around the kitchen getting ready to plate out breakfast, Johnny comes up to your side and stops you, “Go sit down, I’ll plate it up.”

“But–”

“Don’t ‘but’ me, you ended up making them all so go sit down,” he points over to the breakfast bar.

You want to argue with him, about how you didn’t put nearly as much effort into making them as he did. How he did the most annoying part but based on the look on his face, you wouldn’t be able to convince him to let you plate it up anyways. So, you sulk away and around the bench, perching yourself atop the stool and wait for him to give you your pancakes.

As you watch him move around the kitchen something occurs to you, “Did you tell me the wrong cabinet when I was first here just so you could see my ass?”

He stands to face you, his smile sly but his tone faux offended, “I would never do that, how dare you.”

You roll your eyes at him and his response, “You would do that.”

“Can you blame me? You’ve got one hell of an ass, sugar,” he places your plate down in front you, wiggling his eyebrows as he does.

You try to be offended but you end up feeling complimented, “Thank you,” he smiles deviously at you and you squint back at him, “for the pancakes, not your gross compliment.”

“Ah, but you took it as a compliment,” he throws a wink your way, his demeanour pleased.

You roll your eyes at him and eat your pancakes, they aren’t bad. He did an alright job with the batter… third times the charm, it was just the actual cooking part he seemed to have the most issues with. Well… that and the mess he made.

You realise he spent his time clinging to you instead of cleaning like he was supposed to, “You didn’t clean…”

“I got distracted,” he mumbles, mouth full.

Not looking at him, you reply, “You do that a lot.”

“Stop living here and it won’t be a problem anymore,” he nudges your arm with his elbow.

“Alright,” you agree easily, you’re only staying for as long as you’re welcome.

Johnny doesn’t flinch, “No.”

You turn to look at him, questioning look on your face, “No?”

He still doesn’t look to you, mindlessly eating his breakfast as he explains, “Yeah, no. Keep staying here, I don’t mind being distracted.” He turns to you and smiles, “I like it, actually.”

His smile and words fluster you; you’re still concerned about overstaying your welcome though. Turning back to your food you mutter, “If you get sick of me and need me to leave, tell me, I’ll go.”

“You are always welcome in my home, not gonna ask you to leave, doll,” he picks up his plate and walks into the kitchen, stopping behind you to press a kiss to the crown of your head, “Not now or in the future, stay as long as you like…” he puts his plate in the sink, “…hell, stay forever.”

“I’m not staying forever,” you giggle, taking it as a joke.

He smiles fondly at you, “Do whatever you like, you’re always welcome here.”

✰ ✰ ✰

Waking up is hard, especially since you know you have a shift later, one you are none too keen to do. Images of your ex grabbing at you, of you punching him, the feeling of the impact, it’s all still so fresh in your mind and the idea of maybe running into him, or worse, him waiting for you, is horrifying. You might have to look for a new job but you like where you are, you like your co-workers. It’s also convenient, within walking distance from your apartment but now think that may not be such a bonus anymore, especially if you decide to move.

You’ve been considering getting a new place but your apartment is rent controlled and a decent price and it’s close to everything, moving is such a hassle but the idea of going back there and living day to day life frightens you. You’ll be constantly on edge in that apartment, you know what needs to be done but that doesn’t make it easy.

Lying in bed and thinking about this isn’t going to make it better though, you’re just stressing yourself out. You groan dramatically to the empty room as you pull yourself out of bed, your limbs feel heavy. If you had your way, you’d stay in bed a little longer but you know Johnny will be leaving for work soon and you want to see him before he goes.

You find him looking like a mess in the hallway, trying to shuffle himself out the door, his phone is balanced between his ear and shoulder, fingers fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. He smiles when he sees you, mouthing a good morning. You smile back at him and shoo his hands away from his shirt, one drops to his side and the other hold his phone properly.

There’s some kind of issue with one of the actors in his films, you could probably gather more if you weren’t distracted by his skin peeking out from under his shirt. His voice is stern on the phone, a tone you’ve only heard a handful of times, one that’s rarely, if ever, directed at you. You want him to stay home and have his way with you right now but you’re starting to gather that the begging isn’t really working as well as you want it to, that and you do actually have to go back to work today.

When you’ve buttoned his shirt you pat his chest, he mutes his side of the call and holds his phone away from his ear, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you’re fighting to keep your eyes on his and not look at his lips.

His free hand holds the side of your face, “I’ll be back late today,” he looks away from you for a second, “I’d prefer if you didn’t go in today, I might not be available if you need me.”

You roll your eyes at him lightly, “I probably won’t need you, plus my shift is only short and I need money.”

“I can give you money,” his tone is slightly exasperated, his hand moves to hold your shoulder.

“I don’t want your money,” the idea of taking money from him, while also living in his home… is uncomfortable, you don’t care if he’s offering, you are not taking his money.

He looks you over carefully, ignoring the voice coming from his phone, “You really not going to take another day?”

“Nope, I can’t… not without risking my job,” you place your hands on your hips and raise a brow at him, you told him this yesterday.

His head rolls back and he groans a bit, the hand on your shoulder shakes you slightly, “Fine, but finish early and come straight back here,” his face pulls up in disgust, “I hate that, that little rat of a man is still out and about.”

Your lips twist from holding in a laugh, your hand salutes him as you say, “Yessir.”

He squints at you before putting his phone back to his ear, unmuting himself, the person on the other end had started to yell at him through the phone, “I am coming! Geez…”  He spins to leave but quickly turns around and presses a kiss to your lips, “I’ll see you later,” he rushes out the apartment after that.

You’re left shocked, staring at the door he just left out of. It’s not the first time you’ve kissed… obviously but the casualness of it has your stomach erupting in butterflies. He kissed you like it was the most natural thing, like it was a part of your routine, like you’re a couple. Your relationship with him has left you completely confused but how he doubled back just to kiss you goodbye has you smiling to yourself like an idiot all morning.

✰ ✰ ✰

The trip to work is nerve wracking, you’re worried about being back, you’re extra cautious of everyone around you, eyes scanning every face quickly, it’s not until you’re actually at work and can hide in the backroom do you feel the slightest bit better. Having people around you and being behind the counter puts you at ease, it’ll at least be harder for your ex to get at you, hopefully he doesn’t show up though.

You’re waiting the extra few minutes for your shift to start, as you sit and stare at your feet, you see another pair approach and stop in front of you. You’re scared it’s your manager but as you lift your head up to look, you realise it’s just one of your co-workers. Your shoulders drop, relaxing, knowing that you aren’t about to be scolded for you absence.

Your co-worker smiles down at you, “You’re back! Are you feeling better?”  

He is so chipper compared to your general unease about everything, “Ah, hey Michael, yeah… I’m all better,” you give him a polite smile.

“Are you sure? You don’t look so well…” he leans down slightly, as if to examine you closer before moving out of your personal space, “Sorry! I didn’t mean that in a bad way, you still look great! Beautiful, even… uhm, what I mean is… you just look a little run down,” his hand awkwardly scratches at the back of his neck.  

“I’m alright… thanks though?” You’re a little confused and aren’t sure what the appropriate response to him would be.

Michael is a nice guy and you’ve known him for a bit now, long enough to consider him a friend but he’s horribly awkward around you sometimes and you can’t figure out why, or what the suitable way to react to him would be.

He stands in front of you, rocking on his heels slightly, hands stuffed into his pockets, “I can take most of the orders and serve if you like? So, you don’t have to talk to as many people. You can hang back and wipe tables and stuff, the work people do when there is no work,” he laughs lightly.

You protest, if it’s been as busy as your manager says then you don’t want to put it all on Michael, “You don’t have to do that!”

He waves his hand dismissively at you, “It’s not been that busy, I’m happy to do it.”

The offer he makes sounds perfect to you, normally you would protest more but the risk of having to serve your ex is high and Michael has just unknowingly given you an out, “That… would actually be great, thank you. If things get busy though I will be on top of it!”

“Don’t worry about it, take it slow and let me know if you need me to cover for you or something… like if you need an extra break,” he’s still shuffling on his feet but he’s calmed a bit, “To be honest, if you aren’t feeling well, I don’t think you should be here.”

“Tell that to big boss man,” you snark out humourlessly.

His face pulls up in a sympathetic grimace, “He call you in, huh?”

“Yeah, he said you guys have been really busy and not so subtly threatened my job if I didn’t come in,” you wear a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes as you speak, sharing the bitten back annoyance you feel towards your manager.

Michael rolls his eyes, “That sure is one of his favourite moves, you know he wouldn’t have fired you though, too many of us would also leave if he fired you for being unwell.”

He’s right, most people would walk out, you know you would but you also don’t doubt your managers hubris, he probably would have fired you just to prove a point, even if it caused him to lose other employees too.

You half smile at him, “I dunno, I think he would fire me still, I also wouldn’t want people to leave here because of me, the pay is too good compared to other service jobs.” You glance to the clock behind his head and place your hands to your knees, pushing yourself up, “Oh well, time to start.”

Michael rolls his head and groans slightly, dreading the shift as much as you, “Great,” he looks to you again, “Seriously though, take it easy and let me know if you need anything.”

You smile and thank him again before the both of you clock on and walk out of the backroom.

The first half of your shift is uneventful, everything is quiet for the most part, busy your ass. Michael kept true to his offer and has been manning most of the orders while you hang back and make the odd drink or coffee, which you don’t mind, human interaction is not something you were looking forward to today and you somehow always end up with the weirdest customers.

The customers today, however, are mostly older people, you notice that there are only a few other people working, which is odd. The place is a small café/restaurant kind of gig, it’s nice but it can get busier and it can get busy quick, so you’re surprised by how slow it is today.

While you’re on your ten-minute break, your manager approaches you, “Glad to see you back.”

“It is good to be back,” you try to be as inoffensive as possible but you think your disdain for him is something that cannot be easily hidden.

He stares blankly at you for a moment, “Can you stay back today? Our closer called out.”

You remember Johnny’s words and how he had asked you to come back early, “I don’t think–”

“–It would be helpful, if you could, otherwise Michael will be alone.”

“Michael is staying back too?” You’re confused, normally you’d both be swapped out, actually, normally there would be at least another server on around this time.

Your manager looks exasperated with all this back and forth, “Yeah he’s already covering for someone else.”

Damn, Michael is such a pushover and you feel bad for him, you know you said to Johnny you would go straight back to his after your shift but you feel bad for your co-worker, that and the extra money is pretty enticing after not coming to work for a bit… plus… you still technically would be going straight back to Johnny’s, it would just be a little bit later.

You sigh out before answering, “I suppose I can stay back.”

“That’s great, thank you, take an extra ten,” he pats your shoulder and shuffles off.

You guess what he meant by “swamped” was actually “understaffed”, sounds like a lot of the servers have been calling out. Which kind of has you understanding his frustrations with you, you’re still pissed at him for handling it poorly though.

You use the extra ten-minutes to sit and zone out, staring at the bleak wall of the backroom. Distantly, you consider messaging Johnny to tell him you’ll be back later than you thought but he’s also meant to be late, so chances are, you’ll get back before him.

Before you have more time to think about it though, your break is up and you’re heading back out onto the floor. The hours tick by… so… slowly, the afternoon picks up a bit in business and you help with serving but then it dies down again not long after and you’re back to a coffee every now and again and cleaning.

The bell on the door dings as it swings open and closed, Michael greets them, their voice catches your attention and as you look at them, your blood runs cold. Your ex has just walked through the door and moved to sit at a table, Michael goes over to take his order and your heart feels like it’s about to pound out of your chest.

You aren’t sure what you should do, the cops weren’t helpful last time and you don’t want them coming to your place of work, you’re frightened and uncertain of what to do. He looks to you and you catch his gaze, he smiles at you and wiggles his fingers in greeting, you frown back at him and storm off to the backroom, giving yourself time to calm down.

Deep breaths in and out, in… and out… you focus on things around you, the feel of the wall under your palm, how your feet feel in your shoes, how your apron scrunches in your fist, your racing heart calms down, slowing to a more reasonable pace. You roll your head and crack your neck, trying to remove the stiffness in your bones, you think about Johnny, you think about how safe he makes you feel and you think about calling him. You won’t, you don’t feel like you should, he’s busy today and he said he would be unreachable… and you’re worried about what he may do, how it may upset him that you’ve agreed to stay back later.

Your energy is better spent calming down and pretending like your ex has not upset you, it’s a power move on his behalf, showing up here, he’s trying to scare you and while it is working, you are not going to let him know that, he will not be getting anything more out of you. He doesn’t deserve any sort of satisfaction, what he does deserve is another smack to the head but you will control that urge too, you really need your job.

Taking one last deep breath, you leave the room and go back to doing the odd jobs cleaning up, you continue your shift, ignoring him the whole time, you don’t even look at him, all of your focus is put into whatever you’re doing in that moment. You can feel him watching though, he stays the whole of your shift, watching you and hoping you’ll look his way, he makes your skin crawl.

Towards the end of your shift, when you’re closing up and everyone has left, Michael approaches you, “That guy from earlier, he comes in a lot lately and he’s usually fine… but today he was unsettling, he wouldn’t stop watching you,” he pauses and looks out the front window, “and I think he’s waiting outside.”

You groan, this is something you would rather not have to tell anyone about but since he’s picked up on it and you really don’t want to leave alone, you confide in Michael, “He’s my ex… and he’s been stalking me? Of sorts… it’s why I hadn’t come to work for a bit, I was worried he would come here.”

He makes a shocked face, “That’s horrific, have you told someone?”

“The cops know but they’re about as helpful as nipples on men,” you’re completely frustrated and you also don’t want to talk too in depth about this.

He chuckles at your statement, caught off guard by it, “Sorry, this is not funny but I’ve not heard someone say that before while also looking so serious.”

You also crack a smile, it was the first thing that came to your mind, it is a bit ridiculous, “It’s fine, it’s a stupid saying.”

“Definitely true though,” he adds before his expression turns more serious, sympathetic to you,  “I am so sorry this has been happening to you… you don’t deserve this, can I do anything to help? Do you want me to give you a lift home?”

You appreciate his offer deeply and while maybe you would accept it if you were staying at yours, you don’t feel comfortable giving him Johnny’s address, “No, that’s okay, I’ve been staying with a friend so I’m just gonna catch a cab to their place.”

“Are you sure? Do you want me to at least wait with you?” He seems a little apprehensive at leaving you on your own.

“I would like that, please,” you don’t want to wait on the side of the road by yourself, not with him right outside.

The pair of you walk outside together after double checking everything is packed away properly, Michael makes sure he’s on the side your ex is when you leave the building, not wanting him to possibly get at you. Your ex only watches, he doesn’t approach you, he just stands there, you don’t know what he’s doing but you feel like he may be waiting for you to be left alone.

You don’t speak, you don’t have anything to say, you’re trying your best to not show how unsettled by him you are, all of your focus put into keeping yourself calm. The sound of a lighter flickering is oddly loud in the quiet street, cigarette smoke lingers in the air, your ex has lit up a cigarette and the smell is making you feel sickly, though that might just be his presence altogether.

Michael places an arm around you before leaning in, “Are you okay? You sure I can’t just give you a ride?”

“No, I’m fine, thank you,” you smile at him and then pull out your phone, getting ready to order a cab.

A loud car is speeding up the street, the sounds make you roll your eyes, asshole, you think. It’s getting closer though, and then it’s pulling over right in front of you. The expression on your face is annoyed, pissed off, you want to curse out the asshole driving like a dick, you even go so far as opening your mouth to say something but as they get out of the car, you realise it’s Johnny, and then you’re shocked silent, your mouth closing very suddenly.

Michael is just as shocked and confused, his arm coming off you as he asks, “Holy fuck, is that Johnny Cage?”

Johnny walks straight to you, ignoring Michael, “Are you okay? Why are you still out? I told you to come back early,” his brows are set in a deep frown, eyes scanning you quickly, hands holding your face tenderly.

“I’m fine and I got asked to stay back, I was about to catch a cab–”

“–Why didn’t you call me?” His hands come off your face but one of them reaches down to your hand and grips it in his.

“You said you were going to be busy and unreachable,” you shrug, you know you could’ve sent a text or something but you didn’t want to be a nuisance, not when it seemed like his start to the day was already rocky.

“Not that unreachable,” he sighs, he looks around your surroundings properly, you think he may finally take notice of Michael who has been very patiently waiting to be acknowledged.

You try prompting an introduction, “Uhm, this is my co-worker, Michael.”

“Why the fuck is he here,” Johnny ignores your words, gaze set off to the side where your ex is, his hand grips yours a little tighter, he moves closer to you, glaring at your ex.

You don’t want there to be a scene, you want what you wanted before, you want to leave and go back to Johnny’s, you just want to feel safe again, “Johnny–”

“–How long has he been here for?” He barely glances back at you, still staring your ex down.

“Most of her shift,” Michael answers for you, it makes you cringe because you know Johnny is going to have a lot of thoughts about you not telling him.

Johnny finally acknowledges his presence, “What?”

“He’s been here all day… and then he was hanging around after close…” Michael looks to you, “Did I say something wrong?” He asks you a bit quieter.

“No, you’ve done nothing wrong,” you get Johnny may be a little on edge and severely pissed at your ex but he’s being overtly hostile towards Michael for no reason.

Johnny hums, “Get in the car, doll.”

You prompt him, “Johnny,” he looks to you and you keep talking, “Don’t do anything, I just want to leave.”

Johnny scowls, thinking on it for a moment, wanting so badly to walk those few steps over to your ex and beat the fuck out of him, he looks back to you and sees the way your eyes plead with him and he recognises you’ve probably had the worst day of work in your life, the psychological torture of having your ex watch your every move exhausting and frightening.

He concedes to you, “Fine, we’ll just leave.” He turns around to open the car door for you.

You turn to Michael and place a hand on his shoulder, “Sorry about everything and seriously, thank you for today, you made it easier being here.”

“Anytime, I hope the cops do something about your ex soon, I hate that you’re going through this,” he looks worried for you and you can’t blame him but you think Johnny does enough worrying about you for ten people.

“Have a good night,” you pat his shoulder before walking to the car.

“Hey!” He calls out to you before you sit down, “Uhm, if you need anything, text me.”

You smile at him as Johnny closes the car door, you give him a thumbs up from inside the car, you don’t think you’ll ask for his help but it’s kind of him to offer, he’s a very giving person.

Johnny takes a bit longer to get in the car, it doesn’t look like he says anything to Michael but he stares at him for a bit. When he does get inside the car, he wordlessly starts the engine and drives you both back to his. It’s tense and it feels like you’re in trouble, your leg is bouncing up and down with your nerves and he reaches over to you, placing his hand on your thigh, attempting to comfort you.

It works, slightly, you would feel better if he broke his silence and got his thoughts all out now but you know he’s going to wait until you’re both back at his apartment. His thumb rubs along your skin, soothing you, it calms you enough to sit still the rest of the drive.

Still, no words are spoken the whole way up to his apartment, nothing other than your small thank yous when he opens a door for you, mostly you trail behind him. When you reach the door he lets you in first, locking it and walking into the living room, you linger awkwardly but ultimately follow after him.

He must hear you follow because he doesn’t turn around as he asks, “What were you thinking? Your ex shows up while you’re working and not only do you not think to tell me, you also stay the whole shift and even work late?” He’s exasperated, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

You shuffle into the room more, “…We are understaffed and I didn’t want to make Michael handle that on his own, plus it’s good money… and I need the money, so I can pay for the apartment.”

He turns around to look at you, “But you didn’t tell me any of that? Just left me in the dark to come home to an empty apartment?”

Your brows knit together, starting to get frustrated with him, “You said you were going to be unreachable, of course I wanted to call you as soon as I was asked to stay back, as soon as he showed up, but I thought about your words this morning… and honestly, I thought of how you’re reacting right now!”

“So, you rely on some stranger?” His hands gesture angrily.

“Who?” you’re confused.

He grimaces, “The fucker with you tonight.”

“Michael?” He nods and you make a perplexed face back at him, “He’s not a stranger? He’s my co-worker and I have known him for a bit now,” you hesitate before adding quietly, “He’s a friend.”

Johnny crosses his arms and raises a brow at you, “A friend, like how I’m a friend?”

“What–”

He cuts you off, not even letting you ask your question, “­–Like how you’re begging me to fuck you any chance you get, kind of friend?”

You’re deeply frustrated with him, you don’t like his tone, or attitude, “What are you attempting to imply right now?”

“Nothing, I’m not implying anything,” he glowers at you, nothing secret about how he’s feeling right now, everything he feels is on his face.

He’s cutting you deep, your feelings run deeper for him than just physically and he has to know that by now, “I feel like you’re being incredibly unfair, I like you a lot and I want you in more than just one way.” You wrap your arms around yourself, pulling back from him.

He doesn’t say anything, he just stands there looking at you, still angry for no good reason. You turn around and leave him there, if you stay here looking at him while he does nothing but glare at you, you’ll cry.

You’ve just told him how you feel, you were honest and he doesn’t give you the same courtesy, not just now but ever, he’s not told you how he honestly feels and you can only put up with that for so long. You’re not a dog with a bone but he makes you feel like one, saying sweet nothings to you but not actually saying what he means or how he feels.

You head back to the guest room and flop onto the bed, allowing yourself a moment to sob, you’ve had such a shitty day and you wanted more than anything to come back here and tell Johnny about it, to be held by him while he told you everything is going to be okay. Now, you’re not only just upset about your workday, you’re also pissed at Johnny for how he just treated you.

From in your back pocket, your phone vibrates.

✰ ✰ ✰

You don’t really know how you’ve ended up here… well, you do, some of the girls from your college course invited you to a party and you were pretty keen to jump at the idea of escaping all your thoughts for the evening, you have tomorrow off so what’s the harm? Is what you had thought. You ended up sneaking out of Johnny’s apartment and ubering to the address you were given, from there it’s all a bit more hazy, you’ve been drinking a lot. Not typically something you do but you think after the day you’ve had, you earned it.

You do remember you left a note for Johnny to find, telling him you were fine and would be back late, you initially weren’t going to leave him anything but you thought that would be unkind, plus, it would only serve to worry him. Which, you genuinely don’t want him to stress about you so much, you are perfectly capable of caring for yourself, you’ve done it this long.

The night started out fun, drinking and dancing with these girls, but now you’re past drunk and they are nowhere to be seen. The people around you are getting handsy too, now that you’re alone on the dancefloor you’re an easier target. All the people in your personal space is starting to get to you and you end up pushing through the crowd of people to try and find some familiar faces.

It feels like you search the whole house twice but you can’t seem to find any of them, which is odd, you don’t know where they went or why they haven’t so much as messaged you about where they are. If you weren’t so far gone, you might worry about them more but the world is starting to spin a bit and you find yourself walking out the front and sitting on the stairs, you’re alone out here, well, alone besides the few people passed out on the lawn but you don’t think you’re going to count them.

The fresh air will hopefully help you feel better, you pull out your phone to order an uber and see a bunch of missed calls and texts from Johnny. You go to swipe the notification away but accidentally press it and your phone starts calling him back. Your attempts to hang up before he answers fail, especially since he picks up so quickly, the line barely ringing twice.

Johnny sounds pleased and pissed off to hear from you, “Thank god! Where the hell are you?”

“It said in mm note, at friends party,” your words are coming out slurred even though you’re trying to sound sober.

You can almost feel his glare through the phone, “Your note was stupid, why did you leave without telling me?”

You counter, “Would you have let me leave?” He doesn’t say anything, the other end of the phone in complete silence, “Exactly, plus mm still mad at you,” you state.

His tone is scrutinising, “Are you drunk?”

You ask him stupidly, “Are you?”

“What? Obviously not?” He sighs into the phone, irritated by you, “Just tell me you’re safe at least.”

“Mmmm, I think so? I dunno… actually can you come get me? I dunno where mm friends are and I don’t wanna be here anymore,” you lean your head to your shoulder, closing your eyes for a second.

He sounds relieved, “Yes, I can come get you, send me the address.”

You like listening to him talk, “You have a nice voice, sometimes when you talk it gives me butterflies in my tummy…” your words are lazy and you trail off.

Johnny urges you, “Hey, focus, tell me where you are, doll.”

“At a friend’s house… hmm hold on,” you think he may still be talking but you’ve pulled your phone away from your ear to text him the address, you hold the phone to your ear again, “Did ya get that?”

“Yeah I did, I’ll be there soon okay, hang tight.”

“Mm not moving, too comfy,” your head rests back to your shoulder, your eyes slow blinking with how tired you’re getting.

Your eyes slip closed and you switch between hearing all the things around you and hearing nothing at all, your head is somehow swimming with every thought you’ve ever had and not a single thing. You rub at your eyes, trying to stay awake and present but you lose the fight and they slip closed again.

You aren’t sure how much time passes but it feels like no time at all has gone by when Johnny shakes you awake, him standing in front of you so soon feels like a hallucination, he leans down to you and your hand reaches up and pokes his chest.

He makes a confused face at you, “What was that for?”

“Jus checking you’re real,” you murmur out.

“Jesus, sugar,” he shakes his head at you, “Come on, let’s get you home,” he reaches down to you.

“Mmkay,” you take his hand and he pulls you up, you fall into him slightly.

He walks you back to his car carefully, worried about your balance the whole time, his hands stay on you, assisting your steps.

“I’m glad you called,” he says.

You mutter back at him, “Didn’t mean to, fingers are stupid.”

He huffs at you lightly, “Okay, well…I’m glad you asked me to come get you.”

You’re hesitant, “Thank you… for coming,” your lips are downturned, still pissed off at him but grateful all the same.

He opens his car door for you, the second time today and you get inside, “I’ve said it before… but I’ll always come… when you call.” He leans over to buckle you in, when he pulls back his fingers hold your chin, “You just have to call me.”

You’re still pouting and you look away from him, he makes you weak and you’re not ready to forgive him, especially when he’s not apologised, “Can we jus leave?”

He sighs softly to himself, “Yeah… let’s leave.”

He gets you both back to his in one piece, you felt a bit dizzy in the car but you’re feeling sturdier by the time you’re back in his apartment. He leads you into the kitchen and gets you a glass of water, he makes you drink it all in front of him.

You watch him as he takes the glass from you and puts it in the dishwasher, you feel tempted to tell him, “Mm still mad at you.”

He holds onto the edge of the bench, “I know.”

“You really hurt me,” you add.

“I know,” he repeats.

His unwillingness to look at you or give you a better answer has you tearing up, “Are you even sorry?”

He still won’t turn your way, the sink more interesting apparently, “We can talk more tomorrow, it’s late and you’re drunk.”

“I’ve never been more sober in my life,” you argue.

“I somehow doubt that,” is all he says.

You roll your eyes at him, you’ve had enough, “Whatever, thanks again… for picking me up,” you leave the kitchen after that, not willing to stay and let him ignore you more.

You just want to collapse into bed and pretend like everything is fine, you want to pretend you’re back to a couple days ago, when you and Johnny were playing trivial pursuit. You want to think of how kind he was to you yesterday, when you cried in his kitchen while making pancakes and you’re not going to think about how he implied you were interested in sleeping with all your friends and minimised your feelings for him.

Talking to him again is not something you’re looking forward to, not if tonight is anything to go by, he takes up such a large place in your heart and to be treated like this by him feels… shattering. He’s always been so kind to you and to be spoken to like this, it’s devastating, you want to understand but you also want him to leave you alone for a bit, you’re not certain you’re ready to listen to whatever he has to say.

In your very slowly sobering state, you manage to get yourself into the shower and fresh pyjamas, having to do this tomorrow while hungover is going to be hell so your sober-self better be grateful to drunk you because this is far too much effort when you’d rather be curled up in bed crying over a stupid boy.

✰ ✰ ✰

Banging sounds in the kitchen jolt you awake, your head pounding from the hangover you’re currently sporting. The clanging not helping your current state at all, your eyes squint against the minimal light seeping into the room. The furrow set in your brow not helping the pain in your head, you must look incredibly angry right now… and remembering yesterday… yeah, you are incredibly angry right now.

Groaning you flop onto your side and notice that Johnny must’ve come in earlier because there’s some ibuprofen and water sitting on the nightstand next to the bed. You hate how thoughtful he’s being after saying some pretty thoughtless things, he’s not being fair to you at all. Just to get your ducks in a row, he implied you wanted to sleep with your friends, devalued your feelings for him, gave you the silent treatment, got upset that you left the house, wouldn’t talk to you last night, and then again disregarded you all while knowing he had hurt your feelings… yeah, you’re pissed.

Talking right now, or today, might be a bad idea, you’re not in the best headspace, whatever reason he has may not be enough for you. Ignoring the ache in your bones and head, you get up and pack away your bags, stuffing everything in haphazardly, staying here… might not be best for either of you. Being in a home with someone who is upset at you but not willing to speak about it… makes you uncomfortable, you were already worried about overstaying your welcome when things were good… now it feels almost unbearable.

You are thankful to drunk you for getting clean last night, it’ll make leaving easier, you change out of your pyjamas and crack open the door to scope out the area, double checking he’s not in the way. He doesn’t seem to be in the main areas, you think you may be able to leave without him noticing. Grabbing your bag, you quietly shuffle to the front door, it feels ridiculous, like you’re attempting to pull off some great heist, it’s not lost on you how stupid you’re being but you’re hurt, mad, and hungover, you get to be a little stupid.

“What are you doing?” Johnny’s voice makes you jump in place, you hadn’t even heard him approach you.

Slowly, you spin to face him, “…Nothing?”

His eyes look you over before focusing on the bag you’re holding, “Really? Because it looks like you’re trying to leave without saying goodbye.”

“Well, I just thought… after yesterday… it may be better if I leave… quietly,” your head is too sore to be standing here talking about this right now.

He frowns at you, his hands on his hips, annoyed by your choice, “Better for who? I don’t want you to leave and I never said that I did.”

“You haven’t said anything actually,” you point out, you don’t even know why he cares if you stay, he’s the one who started the ‘argument’ or whatever this is.

He sidesteps your statement, instead asking, “Where are you gonna go?”

You roll your head and look away, “Back to mine… probably.”

“While your ex is out there… actively stalking you?” His tone is dubious.

He’s annoying you with his logic, “I don’t know, Johnny, all I know is that you’re not talking to me and I don’t feel welcome here.” You’re starting to tear up and you curse yourself for it, “I was already hesitant to stay here and now you don’t look at me and when you do, you look so… angry and I don’t know why. I don’t know what I’ve done to upset you so much.”

He’s quiet and it seems like he’s not going to say anything… again. You sigh and turn to the front door, choosing to leave anyways but Johnny grabs your wrist, stopping you, “Don’t leave… please.”

You close your eyes for a moment, the light hurting your head, You turn back to him, waiting for him to continue talking; he lets go of your wrist when he’s certain you’re not going to walk away.

He adds, “I’m not upset at you–”

“–It feels like you are.” You interrupt.

He’s beginning to get exasperated, “I’m angry with myself, I’m pissed off and I took it out on you, and I’m annoyed that I did, I want to talk to you about this, I want to explain.”

“Explain then! I’ve given you chances to explain and all you do is stand there silently, I want to be able to forgive you,” you sigh at him again, “You’ve fucked up, if you were anyone else… I would’ve walked away already but I want you to give me the chance to forgive you.”

“I got pissed when I saw you with that– with Michael, it wasn’t rational but it made me realise… people your age are interested in you, there are people out there that are better for you… I– I had already known that… I just didn’t expect…” He’s getting pissed again, you can tell by the way he crosses his arms and his mouth pulls down into a scowl, “I didn’t expect the anger I would feel at seeing you with someone else, I didn’t… the idea of you being with someone else, of someone else touching you how I have, it makes me physically sick.”

You take a deep breath, “So… because you got jealous… you implied I wanted to sleep with my friends and ignored me when I told you I liked you?”

He looks like he wants to touch you, his fingers thrumming against his bicep, fidgeting, “I wasn’t thinking properly, I’m so sorry, doll.”

Your shoulders drop, your bag slipping, “I don’t know… how to react to this–”

He cuts you off to add, “–I like you too, a lot.”

His words make your heart skip a beat but you hold steady, “You can’t say that and expect me to just forgive you.”

He moves closer to you, “I know, that’s not why I said it.”

“I’m not forgiving you.”

“That’s okay,” he hums, “Can I touch you?”

This man does not play fair, “I–”

He touches you anyways, his hand holds the side of your face before he pulls you to him, hugging you tightly, “I am really sorry… I don’t feel good enough for you, you deserve better, you deserve more but I can’t help but feel incredibly selfish because the idea of someone else having you… it literally drives me crazy, doll.”

Being held by him, regretfully, has you feeling so much better, your bag properly drops from your shoulder, and you hug him back, missing his warmth. “You were mean.”

“I’m sorry,” he replies.

“I’d had such a bad day and all I wanted was to tell you about it,” your eyes start welling with tears.

He repeats, “I’m sorry.”

“I missed you,” you sniffle out.

His head leans down to you, nosing at your cheek, “I missed you, too.” You move to pull back, but his hands hold you still, one of them grasping your face, his lips brush against yours before he pulls back himself to say, “You know, I was also seriously concerned for your safety, I came home and you still weren’t back and I had no messages from you, nothing letting me know you were okay.”

You suppose, you can apologise for that much, “And for that, I am sorry.”

“I forgive you… this time.” He jokes, taking it lightly.

You look at him carefully, considering everything, “Johnny, I need to know what we’re doing.”

He’s confused by your sudden question, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, are we more than friends?” You need clarity, after having none for so long, you just need to know what the hell you’re doing.

His brows furrow and he pretends to think really hard, “Considering I’ve made you cum multiple times and stuck my tongue in your mouth… I’d consider you more than a friend.”

You groan and roll your eyes at him, pushing him back by his shoulder, it barely moves him, his hands instead grabbing your face and pulling you to him. He takes your lips in his own, his kiss full and passionate, it takes you by surprise and you make a small sound reminiscent of a whine.

He presses his forehead to yours, “Do you wanna be my girl?”

“Ugh, corny,” you complain but you hate how badly you want that.

He chuckles lightly, pressing kisses to your lips again, “I want you to be.”

You’re not fully paying attention, temporarily distracted by his kisses, “Mmm... Sorry, what?”

He simplifies, “Mine, I want you to be mine.”

You agree easily, “Okay.”

A smile spreads across his lips and then he moves to press kisses all over your face, “Does this mean I’m forgiven?”

“Somewhat,” you answer cryptically, mostly because you’re annoyed by how easily he fixed everything.

“I’ll take it,” he breathes out a laugh.

You wince involuntarily, your head still pounding, your body reminding you of your adventures last night and the consequences that come along with them, “I need to lay back down.”

Johnny’s tone is worried, his hands hold onto your shoulders, putting some distance between you both to look you over, “Are you okay?”

You deadpan back, “Yeah… you’re just exhausting.”

“Not nice,” he complains.

You smile cheekily at him, “I’m kidding… mostly,” he forces a smile back at you and you laugh lightly, “I’m hungover… I just wanna lay back down and die."

"Bit dramatic don’t you think?” He asks.

You glare at him, “Says you.”

He raises his hands in a placating manner, “Completely correct, let’s get you back in bed hmm?”

The rest of your day is spent recuperating in bed, you’re in and out of sleep, sometimes only ever up long enough to eat or drink something. Johnny brings you… way too many snacks but he insisted on you eating, it was nice and also so much for your pounding head, you ended up asking him to leave you alone to rot for the day, which he reluctantly did. You think he’s still concerned you’ve not forgiven him and if you’re telling yourself the truth, while you really want to forgive him, it’s not that easy and your heart sits heavy, the ache he caused not forgotten.

You’re going to try really hard to move forward though because you can understand, while he didn’t go about it well… at all, he’s struggling with his feelings for you and you can understand that much. It also wouldn’t have helped that tension would’ve been high for him, with you out later than expected, no messages, only to find you and see you with a stranger, while your ex lurks in the background… hmmm, maybe Johnny held it together better than you’re giving him credit for.

✰ ✰ ✰

It’s late in the evening when you wake up properly, your heart racing as you sit up suddenly, you can’t quite remember what your dream was of but you remember it was not pleasant. Anxiety crawls up your spine and you think it may have had something to do with your ex, the unease that sits in the pit of your stomach reminds you of the way you felt while at work. You hug yourself, rocking back and forth for a moment, trying to calm down… it’s not helping.

Crawling out of bed, you head the few doors down to get to Johnny’s room, wanting to seek comfort from him. You knock lightly, trying to see if he’s awake, it’s late though so you doubt he’d still be up. You consider entering his room and waking him up anyways but you aren’t sure he’s been sleeping well lately so you turn around and head for the lounge room instead.  

You grab the remote off the coffee table before flopping onto the couch, laying on your side, completely stretched out, you aren’t going to be able to sleep anymore so you might as well find something to watch and get comfortable. There isn’t much on at this time of night though, nothing good anyways.

Somehow, you find yourself heavily invested in the channel that only sells things, all advertisements for stuff that nobody feasibly needs or would use more than once but for some reason, you are completely involved in what the man is waffling on about. Why yes, you definitely do need a little bear named ‘Tiddy Bear’ for your seatbelt so it’s less annoying… you don’t own a car.

You’ve somehow become so absorbed in the crap commercials that you jump slightly when Johnny leans over you from behind the couch, “Holy– Don’t do that,” you gasp.

His voice is deep with sleep, “Sorry sweetness… but what the fuck are you watching?”

You state simply, “Tiddy bear,” and then point at the television.

Johnny sleepily looks where you’re pointing, squinting against the bright light, “…Right,” you can practically see the thought enter his head as soon as he thinks it, “You know… I could always be you–”

You groan at him, “–Shuddup!”

He laughs as he looks down at you, “You don’t even know what I was gonna say!”

“I’m fairly certain I did,” you raise a brow at him.

He wears a lazy smile as he rounds the couch, he taps your legs and you tuck them up so he can sit beside you. Once he’s seated, he pulls your legs into his lap so you’re stretched out again. His hands absentmindedly massage your calves, he watches the advertisement with you for a bit, a new one playing, something called the wearable towel, it looks like a dress… but towel material.

Johnny frowns at the infomercial, confused, “Seriously, doll, what the fuck are we watching?”

“Well, I couldn’t sleep, so I was watching some tv and somehow got really into the infomercials,” you shrug.

He puts all his attention on you, “Why couldn’t you sleep?”

You shrug again, “It was nothing, just a bad dream.”

You don’t look at him, still watching the lady talk about how annoying traditional towels are, Johnny squeezes your calf so you look at him, “Could’ve woken me up, if you wanted to talk about it.”

You hum at him, “I didn’t want to disturb you, I did knock… on your door, to see if you were awake.”

“Hell, sugar, next time just crawl into bed next to me, I really wouldn’t mind,” he smiles at you and then asks, “What was it about?” He keeps massaging your calves, fingers digging into the muscle, it’s nice.

“I don’t remember… but it was… scary,” you feel embarrassed to admit that, you’re a grown adult, it seems silly to be frightened by a dream.

He considers you for a moment, not really sure on what to say, “Yeah, sometimes it’s like that.”

“I just felt dumb, having a bad dream, it feels childish,” you sigh, frustrated with yourself.

“The feeling was real though, it’s not childish, I’ve had nightmares before.” He rests his head back on the couch, “You’ve had the most stressful time lately… I’m honestly surprised you’ve not had more nightmares.”

You watch him, he’s looking up at the ceiling, “I was scared,” you admit.

“That’s normal–”

“–No, not tonight, I mean at work, when he came in and stayed my whole shift,” Johnny looks to you, his attention focused solely on what you’re about to say, “I was scared but I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of effecting me… so I ignored him and I thought about coming back to you, I thought of how,” you take a breath and look away from him, “I thought of how safe you make me feel.”

He sounds emotional, “I make you feel safe?”

You look back to him, feeling bashful, “Johnny, you feel more like home to me than any place ever has…” You’re nervous, feeling open and vulnerable, but you add, “Yes, you feel safe, you feel like home.”

It feels like he looks at you for too long, his eyes looking over you, full of so many emotions that you can’t read. When he does speak, all he says is, “Move over.”

“What?”

“Move over, I’m getting in beside you,” he starts shuffling to lay down next to you on the couch.

You laugh, “Johnny, there is not enough room.”

“Yeah there is, lemme in,” he continues to lay down.

You roll your eyes but shuffle back as much as you can on the couch, your body close to slipping off the furniture entirely. He lays down on his side next to you, his arm coming around you, tugging you close and supporting you so you don’t fall off.  

You look up at him, “Why are we doing this?”

He huffs at you, “I wanted to cuddle with you.”

He looks sleepy right now, it’s endearing, “Why so suddenly though?”

“You said something cute and it made me happy,” he presses his face into the crook of your neck, his breath against you makes your skin prick, “I’m glad I make you feel safe… and I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, having him at your place of work… I should’ve been there.”

“I don’t blame you for that, I didn’t tell you,” you reach up and comb your fingers through his hair, “I– I wanted to call you but I worry so much… I worry about how much I burden you.”

He presses a soft kiss to your neck, it sends a shiver down your spine; he pulls back to look at you properly, his arm holding you as close as he can, “You aren’t a burden to me,” he holds intense eye contact with you, trying to show you how serious he is with one look.

“I just don’t want to worry you with silly things,” you tuck your head into his chest.

He vibrates with a hum, “Well, for starters, being scared of your freaky ex who is stalking you… is decidedly not silly, secondly, I’d much rather you tell me about the silly things, I want you to tell me everything that worries you, I want to help… can’t do that if you don’t confide in me, sweetness.”

“I’ll talk to you more… but you have to promise to do the same, you keep so many things to yourself and I want to support you, however I can,” you mumble into his shirt.

His tone is light as he agrees, “Deal, now can I make out with you, or is this an inappropriate time to ask?”

You scoff at him but pull back and press a gentle kiss to his lips, he groans as you move back too soon, “All you get,” you snicker.

“Not kind at all,” He complains.

You give him another quick kiss, “Funny though.”

“So funny,” he repeats humourlessly, scowl on his face.

You laugh at him and his hand moves up your body to the back of your head, his mouth crashing onto yours, the sudden contact takes you by surprise. You sigh against him and he licks into your mouth, his kiss deep. Your leg moves to hook around his waist, pulling your lower half closer to his, he groans into the kiss, his hand moves from the back of your head, down your front and under your shirt. He gropes at your chest, fingers pinching your nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger.

He moves his head down to your chest, pulling your shirt up and enveloping your nipple in the warmth of his mouth. His tongue flicks at you and you push towards him, soft sighs slip past your lips, your mind hazy. He bites at you lightly, his forehead resting against your sternum, he presses his face between your tits and sucks a hickey into the skin between them, his hand back to pawing at you.

He sighs against you, and then your world is spinning, he’s sitting up and taking you with him, you end up straddling him. His hands trail your body, tugging your shirt up and off your head, you lift your arms to help him. He leans forward and begins to leave more hickeys on you, marking your chest completely, your fingers thread through his hair, pleasured sighs leaving you.

He mumbles into your skin, “Take your pants off.”

You pull him back by his hair, “Excuse me?”

“Please?” He smiles at you. You look at him sceptically but he only continues to smile at you, “I’ll make it worth your while, promise.”

You concede and hop off his lap, pulling your pants off, you go to sit back on him but he tuts at you, “What?” You ask.

“Panties. Off.” His eyes are looking directly at your underwear, waiting for them to be gone.

You sway side to side, feeling timid but you comply and slip the garment down your legs, Johnny smiles brightly as you do as he asked. He makes grabby hands at you and you move closer to him, he grabs you and positions you over one of his thighs.

You’re a little confused, “What are you doi–”

“–Want you to ride my thigh, doll,” his hands encourage you to straddle his thigh properly.

“Johnny… that’s embarrassing,” you pout at him slightly.

“What happened to my eager little thing hmmm?” He grips your hips and starts dragging you back and forth on the material of his pants, “Promise it’ll feel good.”

You twitch on him slightly, it feels depraved to rut into his thigh while he watches but you start grinding down onto him lightly, your movements still uncertain. Johnny’s hands help facilitate your movements, wanting to see you do it yourself but also wanting control of the situation. Your cunt begins leaking onto him, the material of his sleep pants darkening under you, shudders run down your back and muffled whimpers get caught in your throat.

Your hands reach up to his shoulders, holding onto him to ground yourself, your fingers digging into his skin. His eyes watch how your pussy grinds into his thigh, smile still present on his face, absorbed in how you’re getting his leg all slick, the grey of his sweats now a dark grey. The friction the material of his pants give you is driving you insane, your need clawing up your spine, Johnny can tell you’re getting needier, based on how your eyes get glassy and your hips rut down into him more freely.

“There ya fuckin go, thas a good girl,” he comments.

His hands push you into his thigh firmer, the sudden change has you moaning out to him. You fall forward and tuck into his neck, your whimpers are breathed against him and he grunts at how wet you’re making his pants, at the little noises you’re making against him. You’re doing a lot of the work yourself at the moment, in the back of your mind you’re embarrassed at how you hump down onto him, at how damp you’re getting everything but Johnny seems so fucking pleased about it all.

You twitch into him and moan at the friction on your clit, the sound spurs him on, his hands grip your hips tightly and he moves you back and forth on his thigh quickly, your slick making the slide obscenely easy. Johnny’s own eyes are glassy, dizzy from how much you’re leaking on him, he moves one hand to pull your head back to look at him, he’s in awe of the fucked out look on your face.

“Mmm you always make the prettiest faces for me,” he compliments before taking your lips in his.

The kiss is messy, his lips demanding and desperate, his tongue in your mouth searching, consuming. He swallows down all the sounds you make for him, his own sounds shared in the kiss, when you part for a moment, strings of your saliva connect your mouths together. The evidence of how depraved in manner he kisses you sets you on fire, a whimper pulled from your chest. He smiles lazily at you, his thumb rubs over your lips, spreading your shared spit over them.

He pushes his thumb into your mouth and you take it, sucking on it gently, his eyes look wild as he watches you, “Need you to cum on my thigh, sugar.”

Your eyebrows pull up at him, your cunt clenching on nothing, your fingers dig into him as you continue to rock back and forth on him. Your stomach tensing, he pulls his thumb from your mouth and runs it down your chin, sternum, torso, all the way down to your clit, his thumb rubs circles into you, it makes you twitch against him. Johnny closes his eyes and seemingly remembers his goal very suddenly because he grabs you tightly again and starts forcefully dragging you back and forth, his leg bouncing, adding to the stimulation.

You gasp out to him, “Hah– Johnny~”

“Jus take it like this, cum like this, want it all over my leg, doll, want it stained into my fuckin pants.” His eyes are honed in on your cunt again, involved in how you’re dripping on him, how easy you slide on him.

Your voice pitches higher, “Johnny– I– mmph–”

He encourages you, already knowing, “Go on, soak my thigh, sweetness.”

You gasp and shudder against him, your hips desperately grinding down into him, your high so close. Johnny’s intense, greedy gaze on you is what undoes you, you twitch on him as you cum, pathetic whimpers sound from you as you rut down into his leg, he supports you as you finish, helping you ride out your high, feeding you praises about how well you did and how cute you look.

Once you’ve come down though, he keeps moving you into him, enjoying the way your body jolts in sensitivity at the action. You slump forward into him, small whines leaving your lips as he overstimulates you. He turns his face into your neck and lightly bites you, your cunt clamps down onto nothing, the pain shoots straight to your drenched pussy, a sad little moan slipping from you.

Johnny’s hands rub up and down your back, soothing you, “How you think you’re ever gonna be able to take my dick when you get fucked out this easily is beyond me.”

“I could take it,” you argue.

You can feel his smile against your skin, “I’m not so sure.” He pulls your face back so he can see you properly, “Yeah… I’ve missed that.”

You’re kind of hazy, mind making static noise, “Missed what?”

His smile turns devilish, “That cute little fucked out look you get on your face when I make you cum, a sight for sore eyes, doll.” You don’t get to say anything back, he picks you up and carries you with him back to his room, “Bet you’ll sleep fuckin fantastic now.”

You giggle against him because yeah, this might’ve done the trick.

✰ ✰ ✰

When you wake in the morning, you’re alone in Johnny’s bed, you lay still for a few more moments, enjoying the warmth of his large bed. You assume he’s gone to work; he’s probably messaged you but your phone is in the guest room and you don’t really feel like moving right now. You feel warm and safe wrapped up in his sheets, sleeping next to him was the best you had slept in weeks and you think he’s going to have to put up with you being in his bed more often now.

Eventually, after a few more moments of tossing around in his bed, you get up and wander down the hall to grab your phone. You were right, he had texted you saying where he was, he had to head in early and didn’t want to wake you. He should be back at a normal time though so you’re happy for that, it gets lonely in his big apartment.

You also have a message from your manager, telling you that you’ve got a few more days off… which is, surprising to say the least. Michael might have had something to do with that, which is kind but you need to figure out a long-term plan, on if you want to stay or go. Ideally, your ex would leave you alone, or the cops would arrest him for trashing your apartment but seeing as how they’re not all that useful, you don’t really know what to do.

At least now you have a few more days to consider your options, you were not looking forward to your afternoon shift. You’ll have to thank Michael next time you’re on with him, you don’t know what he said but you’re trusting that he didn’t divulge anything too personal, you didn’t even want to tell him about your ex, it was just unavoidable.

The day is uneventful for the most part, you clean the kitchen and guest room, you also make Johnny’s bed, you’re still a guest, it’s only polite that you clean up after yourself. There isn’t much else for you to do though, so you’re back on the couch, scrolling your socials and watching something inane as background noise. It shouldn’t be too much longer until Johnny gets back, you’re hoping anyways, you’re bored and want to talk to him regarding what you should do about your ex.

Speaking of… a text from that awful little man comes through, you forgot you hadn’t blocked him, you click on the notification and read it. Obviously, it’s all senseless anger, mostly name calling, not at all pleasant to read but after having him trash your home, this is not as scary as it would’ve been a while ago. You consider blocking him but then you think, this may help you actually.

He continues blowing up your phone on and off all afternoon, you end up silencing his messages so you can use your phone without being yelled at through the screen. It shouldn’t be but some of the messages are hilariously laughable, the fact you were with him for a whole year and he was like this? It’s almost inconceivable to you, how could you miss so much of his problem behaviour and why has he gotten so stuck on you.

One of his messages in particular sticks with you, ‘I deserved better.’ It makes you scoff, what a jackass. The rest aren’t as funny, they’re threatening and abusive and if you spent all your time reading them it would probably induce a panic attack.

Brushing it off, you put your phone down and involve yourself in the show you had put on hours ago, whatever his problem is, is not your fault and you shouldn’t bend over backwards trying to understand the motivations of someone so clearly mentally unstable. It’s not your fault, it’s something you have to repeat to yourself, so you don’t forget… because it’s not your fault and you won’t let him make you think that it is.

The front door rattles as Johnny unlocks it and walks into the apartment, you call out to him, “Welcome back!”

His shoes clack against the floors as he walks to where you are, “Hey, doll,” he pats the top of your head from behind the couch.

You bend your neck to look back at him, “How was your day?”

“…Annoying but thankfully shorter than some others,” he smiles at you, “How was your day?”

“Good, uneventful for the most part… well except…” You trail off as you watch him.

He steps over the back of the couch, it’s quite the show how his footing wobbles a bit on the plush cushions, you give him a quizzical look as he sits beside you, “What? Couldn’t be bothered to walk round.”

Laughing and shaking your head, you say, “You would’ve expended more effort climbing the couch than walking around it.”

He brushes you off, “Yeah whatever, just tell me about your day, what were you gonna say?”

Were you going to say something, “Hmm?”

“Uneventful day, except…?” He prompts.

You begin, “Ah, yeah, my ex started blowing up my phone, harassing me today–”

Johnny’s face twists into a disgusted scowl, “–You’ve not blocked him?”

You squint at him, silently admonishing him for interrupting you before you could finish, “Well, I had honestly forgotten to, he hadn’t even reached out until now but I think it may be helpful, in getting a restraining order on him, that way I can go to work and if he shows up the cops will actually have to do something about it.”

He considers your words for a moment, “Hmm, not a bad idea, want my help with that?”

“Please,” you smile sweetly at him.

He pinches your cheek and tugs lightly, “Of course, though…” he lets go of your cheek and you rub at it, “…I would prefer he were dead.”

You can’t help but laugh at the abruptness of his statement, “Right, well… I guess you’ll just have to settle for this.”

“Whatever makes life easier for you, doll,” he opens his arms for you to hug into his side, which you do.

He wraps his arms around you and holds you tight, you sigh against him, “I really just want him to leave me alone, so I can forget about him and move on, I don’t want to confront him, I don’t want to fight him, I just want to be left alone.”

“I understand that, we’ll make it happen,” he kisses the top of your head and you believe him.

You cuddle on the couch for a bit, enjoying his comfort but then your phone rings, checking the screen you see it’s a friend from college, “I should take this,” you tell Johnny.

He nods at you easily and lets you get up.

Taking your phone, you walk off to the guest room to get some privacy, “Hey! It’s been a while, what’s up?”

Her voice is chirpy through the phone, “It has been and nothing much, I just wanted to see if you were free to come round mine tomorrow? I need help with an assignment for that one class… with that one professor…”

You can practically feel how her eyes glaze over, you’ve already taken the class and catch on immediately, “Yeah I’m more than happy to help, I’m not sure how much help I’ll be… I’m still surprised I passed.”

She laughs from the other end, “But you did and at this rate, I’m closer to running away and living by the seaside on an isolated island than I am to passing this course.”

“Well then, I can be around tomorrow? Like, maybe midday? Can’t have you moving away, you’re like the only college friend I have… that I like.”

“Sounds good and I feel exactly the same about you,” you both share another giggle but she trails off, “…Have you been okay?”

You’re a bit confused by her sudden question, “Yeah I’ve been all good, why?”

She seems hesitant, like she’s not sure how to word what she wants to say, “Well… I’ve been hearing some… things… about you and it’s got me a little confused.”

You frown, “What kind of things?”

She sighs, “People in our circle have been saying you were cheating on your ex and that you’re broken up?”

“I mean we are broken up… but I did not cheat on him, I ended things with him for different reasons but if anyone cheated in that relationship, it was definitely him,” your fingers pinch the bridge of your nose, you have a feeling you already know who’s spreading the rumours.

“Yeah, I didn’t believe it but it’s really odd… that people are saying that, I always thought he was a little… freaky, so I got worried hearing about the rumours.”

You huff quietly, mostly to yourself, “Thanks for asking though… and not just assuming,”

“I like to think I know you well enough to discern what rumours are and aren’t true,” she lightly chuckles and it makes you smile.

Scratching the back of your neck, you ask, “A lot has happened but I can tell you about it all tomorrow?”

“I’d like that, you know I’m always here for you right?”

“I know,” you smile lopsidedly, you think you may need to get better at confiding in others.

You both share your goodbyes and hang up, you’re glad she reached out to you, honestly, if she wasn’t campus living and you didn’t have Johnny, you probably would have stayed with her, she’s one of the closest friends you have. It’ll be nice, telling a friend about everything.

Distantly you wonder how long the rumours have been running around and if this may be why you got ditched by those girls at the party and still haven’t heard from them, even after messaging them asking if they were okay.

This is such a frustrating position to be in but you think, if anyone believes the rumours without even asking you about them then they aren’t people you really want to be friends with anyways, doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt though.  The only thing you’re really worried about is if Johnny is included in the rumours, you don’t want to ruin his career, or hurt his image, at the moment the rumour doesn’t seem to mention him but you don’t know how long it will stay like that.

You waddle through the apartment and stand in front of Johnny, “There are rumours about me circling,” you pout.

“What?” He’s confused and you don’t blame him.

You slump onto the couch, your shoulder bumping into his, “Saying I cheated on my ex and that’s why we are broken up.”

He grunts, “What a load of bullshit,” his arm comes around you, pulling you close, “Are you okay?”

Sighing, you say, “Yeah, I mean, if people believe it that’s not my fault, I’m just so exhausted, it feels like it’s one awful thing after another at the moment.”

He turns to you and kisses the side of your head, “Would you feel better if I fucked you?”

Your voice feels small, “Yes.”

“That’s too bad,” he smiles against you.

You pout at him, “Don’t kick me when I’m down.”

He chuckles, “How about I cook you dinner instead?”

You smile at him, “That would be nice too, I guess.”

“Could you help?” He’s worried about it not being edible.

You let out an airy laugh, “Sure.”

✰ ✰ ✰

When you had told Johnny you were going out today to see a friend, he couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed, he has today off and he was hoping to spend it with you. He wasn’t about to stop you though, you need to see your friends, he’s glad to see you’re willing to talk to someone else about this. Sometimes, he worries that if he hadn’t heard your ex over the phone that first time, you wouldn’t have told him anything and that’s a scary thought to him.

He's left in the apartment alone and he’s bored, you’ve not even been gone long and he feels like a dog waiting for its owner to come home. Maybe he should feel a little pathetic about it but he’s pretty happy about where is, he’s scared… about the future but he’s also looking forward to his relationship with you. All he has to do is keep himself busy until you get back and he’s golden.

Some of your clothes are piled in his room, ever since he took you to bed with him a couple nights ago, you’ve been sleeping in here with him instead. Not that he minds, in fact, he’s got the opposite of complaints, the fact that you’re staying close to him and confiding in him, it makes him ridiculously happy.

The bag filled with your clothes sits on the floor in the corner, you’ve been here for a while now and you still won’t unpack, that bothers him. He won’t unpack for you, that’s invasive and will also probably upset you but he will pick up the clothes you left on the floor this morning, he’s just going to take them down the hall so they can get cleaned with his but as he picks them up, your panties slip from the pile.

He feels so ridiculously ashamed of how incredibly quickly his dick chubs up at seeing just your underwear, they’re cute… and now he’s thinking of you in them and nothing but. He rolls his shoulders and looks up to the ceiling, trying to ignore the growing ache in his cock but now all he can think about is you and how wet and needy you get for him.

Shamefully, he drops everything onto the ground and picks up your panties, his mind running wild. He feels like a fucking creep how he shoves them into his face and inhales deeply, his mouth salivating, he wishes you were home, he wants to fuck you with his tongue, it feels heavy in his mouth as his need grows.

His other hand slides down his body and undoes his belt before unbuttoning his slacks, he shoves his hand into his pants and groans as he grabs himself over his underwear. Your scent overwhelms his senses and he can’t hold off, he tugs his boxers and pants down, only enough so his cock is free, he’s desperate now, his dick twitching in need.

If he weren’t so stupefied by his thoughts of you, he’d probably recognise this as the creepy behaviour it is but right now he doesn’t care, he didn’t get to cum the other night after making you finish on his thigh and he’s been hesitant to try anything since but he’s so wound up it’s insane. After you had fallen asleep next to him that night, he’d pitifully moaned when he squeezed the base of his cock, just to get some kind of relief.

He's honestly not sure how long he’ll be able to hold off on fucking you, he wants it to be special for you, he wants it to be memorable, he doesn’t want to be just some guy you give your virginity to and regret… but in saying that… the need that claws at his insides every time he makes your pretty, cunt cum for him, is getting harder to control.

His hand not holding your panties grips onto the dresser for balance, his other hand reaches down to his cock, his tip leaks precum into your underwear, they’re soft as he moves them with his fist up and down his shaft. He sighs pathetically at the feeling of jerking off into your panties, his mind reeling with what it would be like to taste you, he wants to cum inside you and then lick you clean. His head falls back and he groans at the thought, his muscles twitch as he thinks of how pathetically you’d whine for him, your complacency with all the filthy things he does to you always makes his head spin.

With the amount he’s leaking into your panties, the glide is easy and his hand speeds up, a gasped grunt escaping him. He’s already on the edge of cumming just from thinking about tongue fucking you, he talks big game about you not being able to take him but he’s concerned that as soon as he sinks balls deep in you, he’s going to cum.

His chin falls to his chest and he watches how he fucks into your panties, his eyes are glazed over and his hand moves faster, he needs to cum, he knows it won’t satisfy him, not how he wants but if he doesn’t see your underwear coated in his cum, he thinks he may die. He thinks of you watching him cum into your panties, how embarrassed and turned on you’d be, it drives him wild and his cock jerks as he shoots his load into the fabric of your underwear. He groans deeply, his hips spasming, thrusting forward to ride out the euphoria.

He sighs, temporarily satisfied but his thoughts are still plagued by complete filth, he wants to make your pussy a complete mess for him. He wipes up his cum with your panties and tugs his pants back up, he’s going to need to calm down, he can wait for you to get home.

✰ ✰ ✰

The uber back to Johnny’s is boring, you’d had a good time with your friend though, you both pulled your hair out over the assignment and over your ex… but it was good, talking to someone. She was supportive and kind and she’s offered to sneak you into campus living with her if you need, which made you giggle. You told her about your plans to hopefully get a restraining order though, so you think you should be fine to go home soon.

It turns out, those girls… the ones you were at the party with, they’re apparently helping feed the flames of the rumour going around about you. At least you weren’t all that close to them, they just gave you a reason to go out and get drunk for a night. Whatever, you don’t want to put any more energy into all this, you’re going to go back to Johnny’s, you’re going to hang out with him and you’re going to trust that the court will let you get a restraining order against your ex.

When you get back to Johnny’s, it’s eerily quiet, you were expecting him to be watching a movie or listening to music… anything but it’s silent in the apartment and it’s freaking you out a little bit. Walking further into the main living area, you place your bag down and continue to wander around, looking for him.

You call out for him, “Johnny?”

He stumbles out of his room pretty quickly at the sound of your voice, “You’re back! How was it? Did you have fun?”

You squint at him a bit, his mannerisms odd, “…Yeah, it was good, I’ve missed her so it was nice… catching up.”

He fidgets in front of you a bit, like he’s antsy, like this is all a formality and he doesn’t really care, “That’s good! I’m glad you met up with her, I’ve been worried about you a bit lately…” His eyes roam over you, his fingers tapping against his skin.

“…Johnny?” He hums at you in reply and you ask, “Are you okay? You seem… on edge.”

His eyes flick back to yours, “Yeah, doll, I’m groovy, easy going,” he gives you a big cartoonish smile, it’s a little strained.

Frowning, you walk closer to examine him and he intakes a small, sharp breath, “Are you sure? Because you’re really twitchy right now.”

“Did anything else happen? Do you want to talk?” He’s clearly changing the subject.

You decide to let him, “No? I’m fine, we talked, I helped her with her assignment, nothing special,” you shrug at him.

“Okay, good,” is all he says in response. Just as you’re about to ask him what he means by that, his hands are on you, pulling you close, his mouth hovering right over yours, “I missed you, sweetness… bad.”

Your voice shakes slightly, the proximity getting to you, making your skin all hot, “I’ve not been gone lo– mmph–”

He cuts you off, his lips on yours are demanding, his kiss searing, like he’s been waiting his whole life to kiss you like this. You reach up and grab a hold of his shirt, hands fisting the fabric, trying to ground yourself. His hands are on you… everywhere, they grope and pull at the skin of your hips, at the fabric of your shirt, even palming your breasts, his touch is heated and needy, it’s making you dizzy. A small, whimpered moan leaves you involuntarily and he takes the chance to lick into your mouth, deepening the kiss.

With how he’s kissing you and how he’s touching you, your faculties are eluding you, your mind foggy. You’re the one to pull back first, needing air. Resting your forehead against his chest, you catch your breath and attempt to think straight again. Which is, surprisingly difficult, your eyes feel wet, everything about you feels malleable right now, he could probably say the stupidest thing on Earth and you’d still be weak in the knees with hearts in your eyes.

You lightly giggle against him, “Feeling needy?”

He grunts at you, “Doll, you got no fuckin clue.”

You think you may have some clue, “Bold statement coming from the man who still won’t fuck me even after I have asked so nicely, so many times.”

He rolls his eyes at you, only a little bit amused, you’re waiting for his smartass reply when he suddenly picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, walking back to his room with you.

“Wow, talk about desperate,” you joke.

“Keep talking, sweetness, enjoy the upper hand while you can still talk coherently,” he drops you onto his mattress, his form standing over you from the foot of the bed.

You know he’s right, and yet, the need to challenge him like he doesn’t render you speechless from a kiss hits you anyways, “Cocky, much?”

“Could say the same thing to you, at least mine isn’t false confidence,” he winks at you and begins unbuttoning his shirt.

You lean on your elbows and watch him intently, his skin slowly being revealed to you, he’s being a tease on purpose. Summoning your courage, you tug your pants down your legs and toss them off the bed, not stopping, you tug your shirt off completely too, your bra following not long after. Johnny stops what he’s doing, his shirt fully undone but still on.

Smiling up at him, you ask, “Something wrong, sugar?”

He rolls his head back, a sigh coming from him, “Feeling mean today?” He asks, shrugging his shirt off his shoulders.

“Only a little bit,” you’re honestly a little bit shocked with yourself, you feel nervous and exposed.

He climbs onto the mattress and you shuffle back as he moves up, his form large over yours, he leans down and places a hot kiss on your lips, “Gonna stick my tongue in your pretty pussy, babe.”

Somehow, the crudeness of his words always shock you, “Okay.”

His smile at your reply is wolfish, giving you one last kiss before he’s moving back down the bed and pushing his face into your panties. You squeak and jump at the feeling, he only hums against you, seemingly pleased at your reaction.

“Wanted to put my mouth on you all day,” he mumbles against your core.

You can only gasp in reply, his mouth opening and latching onto your cunt over your underwear, his tongue wetting the fabric, his nose rubbing into your clit. His hands hold you open and you fall flat onto the bed, not able to hold yourself up. When he detaches it’s only to pull your panties down your legs and off, his eyes are wild and he stumbles over his movements in his rush.

He's right back in between your legs as soon as he can be, his mouth not wasting anytime in how he immediately licks at you, fucking his tongue into your hole. A hand reaches down and threads through his hair, you give it a light tug and he moans against you. Your back arches for him, hips moving against his face slightly, your body moving on its own accord.

Johnny’s own hips covertly rut into the bed below, his senses overtaken by you, how you smell and taste, it’s making him dizzy, he’s been looking forward to this all day. He’s practically drooling into your cunt, his skin on fire, how you writhe and twitch on the mattress isn’t helping. Knowing he’s making you a needy, whimpering mess is making his cock ache even worse than it did this morning.

You’re gasping and whining for him and he moans into your pussy, his hips humping into the mattress in a more obvious manner as his desperation grows. His hands push on the back of your thighs, lifting your legs up and giving himself more access to your gooey cunt. He’s eating you like he might die if he doesn’t, like you’re his only salvation and you’re already so close to cumming for him because of it.

The grip you have on his hair tightens and he borderline whimpers into you, his movements not ceasing, if anything they pick up, his tongue moving quicker. Your stomach twitches and pulls, your orgasm fast approaching, Johnny can tell, he knows by how slick you get, how pitched your whines get.

You want to tell him, “Johnny, mmm–”

He grunts into your cunt, already aware and actively trying to have you finishing on his tongue, he wants it all. He wants you to cum directly into his mouth, he wants to drink it all down and then he wants to shove his tongue in your mouth and make you suck on it, tasting yourself through him. His cock twitches in his pants, his mind moving a million miles a minute, shamefully, he’s close to cumming in his pants.

Suddenly, he shakes his head against you, his nose moving over your clit, the stimulation shocks your orgasm from you, stumbled syllables vaguely reminiscent of Johnny’s name tumble from your lips, sounds that he relishes in, his hips stutter against the mattress as your cum floods his senses. The way your pussy spasms and creams on his tongue undoing him completely, his cum no doubt staining the front of his slacks, shivers running down his spine.

The orgasm he gives you and how taken by surprise you were, renders you wordless and thoughtless, only the sounds of the blood pumping in your ears can be heard, everything else is like white noise. You huff and shake slightly, the buzz in your veins delicious, he was right, about rendering you completely speechless, you knew he would be.

He licks at your pussy a bit longer, until you’re jerking away from him, too sensitive, you close your legs, knees touching, giving yourself some reprieve. Johnny pulls up and off the bed, once he’s standing, he yanks his pants off. You don’t miss the way his slacks and boxers are damp with his cum, he’s made a complete mess of himself.

You feel shy, “You came from that?” You’re completely shocked that he’s managed to finish just from humping the mattress and tongue fucking you.

“Got such a pretty little pussy, I’d cum from watching you play with yourself,” he plays it off easily, not an ounce of shame in his bones at the moment, only a large grin plastered on his face.

The embarrassment his words cause you is immense; your face feels warm and you can’t tell if it’s from your orgasm or what he’s just said. He crawls back on the bed, his cock already hardening again, apparently… he’s not done. His cock is shiny and slick from his own cum, his tip red and already leaking again, it’s making your head spin.

Your voice feels small, you feel small, “Are you gonna fuck me?”

“No.” His answer is dead on, no room for argument, as per usual when it comes to this topic.

“Then what–”

“–Gonna play with you how I like,” he strokes his cock as he looks down at you, “Open your legs, sugar.” You pout slightly, and he rolls his eyes at you, “Come on, sweetness, I’ll make you feel oh so good. Promise.”

You scowl at him lightly but open your legs for him, one of his hands moves to hold you open further. “You said you would fuck me,” you complain.

“I said maybe,” he counters.

He doesn’t wait for you to continue arguing with him, already moving his tip through your folds, he skates against your wet pussy and it has him shivering. He leans down over you, the length of his fat cock resting against your cunt, he holds himself up over you by his forearms. His hips begin slowly grinding down into you, everything is so slick and wet, your skin slipping against each other. He plants a kiss on your lips, his tongue entering your mouth straight away, wanting you to taste yourself. You moan into him, soft sighs also leaving you.

When he pulls back, you try again, “I want you, please.”

He groans, his hips stuttering, “You have me right now.”

“Want you inside me,” you nearly sob.

“Fuck– Not today,” his voice is hoarse.

“Always– mmph– always feel so empty,” your eyes are wet and glassy as you look at him, not so silently pleading, “Ngh– Wan you to fill me, please, Johnny.”

“Fucking– no, hnng– why– god– why do you want your first time to be now? Of all times?” He huffs against your skin, his cock painfully erect, throbbing and leaky for you.

“Don’t care mmph– don’t care when or where, just who,” a tear slips down your cheek, your need practically tearing you apart at the seams.

Johnny nearly whimpers, his cock jerking against you, his tip sliding over your clit makes your skin itch, the desire to be fucked full of him overwhelming you. It’s cruel, it feels heinously cruel how deprived of him you are, is it so much to ask to be so full of him you’re sobbing? You don’t think so, your breath stutters as he continues rocking back and forth between your folds.

“I care when and how,” he bites back, nearly snarling at you.

You share your frustration with him, loose lipped in your pleasure and need, “I jus wan –­ngh– you to fuck me blind, I can’t, I need it– mmph– Johnny please!”

He actually does whimper this time, “Fuck– doll, you can’t– don’t do this to me,” he’s in such a weak state today, his desperation for you driving him insane.

The way you’re begging for him to stuff you full of his dick, is going to kill him, he already wants so badly to feel your tight, wet cunt wrapped around him but he wants to do it right. Your begging is chipping away at his resolve, his mind filling with images of how he’d stretch you out on his cock, how your eyes would roll back in your head as he fucks you just right.

His cock is making an absolute mess of you both, your lower halves completely coated in slick and cum, his head ducks down to look between the two of you. The underside of his cock glazed with your cum nearly sends him into a frenzy, he moans at the sight, forehead falling to rest on your sternum.

You hook your legs up on either side of his hips and he chokes at the change, his thrusts speeding up, one of his hands reaches down and digs into the fat of your thigh, nail biting into the skin. You gasp and whine, your mind slipping from you, you want to beg him more, you want to plead with him to have mercy but you’re not sure you can find the words anymore.

You sob over and over, begging him, “Please, please, please, please–”

He looks back at you, eyes sharp, “You’ll take what I fuckin give you or I’ll never touch you again,” he cautions, his tone harsh.

“Johnny~” you whimper, eyes large and dazed.

He tuts at you, his tone mocking, “Poor thing, not being satisfied sexually?”

You could almost cry, his words feel so mean.

He glares at you, “Know what I did while you were gone, sugar?”

You shake your head at him, a gasp leaving you as his cock head catches on your clit.

“Got me so fuckin– so needy,” he ridicules your usage of the word from earlier, “that I got hard at the sight of your panties on my bedroom floor.”

A strained and small noise leaves you, not at all expecting him to admit to something like that. His hand holds onto the side of your face and tilts you up to look at him, he’s looking down his nose at you and it really shouldn’t arouse you as much as it does. His hips don’t stop, never stopping, he couldn’t, not even to punish you, it’d be hell for him too. He needs this, it’s as close as he’s going to get to fucking you and he’d have to be put in the fucking ground before he’d remove himself from you, he needs you to cum on his cock like this.

“Wanna know what I did with them?” He asks suddenly.

You’re distant but not gone and you nod in response, curious.

He smiles evilly and leans down to whisper into your ear, “I fucked them, tugged on my cock until I came in them. Only thinking about your cunt and how fucking divine you taste, how badly I wanted to stick my tongue in you,” He licks the shell of your ear, “I think– ngh– that you’re getting off easy.”

“Johnny,” you whine at him, the only thing he’s succeeded in doing is making your hornier for him.

“One day. One day I will fuck you open on my cock but today and right now, you’re gonna fuckin behave and cum like this,” it’s a promise, one he intends to keep.

A shiver runs down your spine at how low and authoritative his tone is, a pathetic moan leaving you, one that Johnny doesn’t miss, not if his smile is anything to go by. He doubles his efforts into sliding his cock through your folds, his hips moving quicker, more weight put behind them, it makes you whine and wriggle under him. The hand he had on your face moves back to your hip and grips you tight, forcing you to stay still for him.

He's moving desperately, wanting so badly for you to cum like this, he wants to fuck his whole cock into you but is too damn stubborn to do it now, he doesn’t want your first time to be like this. His abs clench and twitch, his own end fast approaching him, his head leans down to your neck and remembers the other night, he pays extra attention to how close you’re getting, pressing soft kisses to your neck as he continues thrusting against you.

Your pussy is throbbing for him, you’re so unbelievable close and it has you seeing stars, Johnny can tell you’re right on the edge and just as you’re about to cum, he bites into the junction between your neck and shoulder, harder than the other night. Your cunt jumps at the shock of pain and you moan pitifully loud, tears that had been sitting in your water line slip down your cheeks as you spasm and cum for Johnny. He groans at the sounds you’re making for him, at the way your cunt gushes with your orgasm, making an absolute mess of yourself and his dick.

He holds off to let you ride out your high and then he’s pulling back onto his knees, jerking his cock while watching the way your pussy clenches on nothing, he whimpers and wishes he was fucking you full. In just this moment, he wishes he were a worse man but he settles for this, he fists his cock, and just as he’s about to cum he notches his tip at your entrance, not pushing in at all, just resting it there, his cum entering you as much as it can from this position.

You wriggle your hips at him, pushing down slightly, his hand immediately shoots out to push you down, knowing you’d absolutely attempt to take him all, even if it hurt. He can’t help how aroused that thought alone makes him, you’re willing to hurt yourself to take him all and it tugs at something ugly and primal inside him.

After he’s dumped his load on and partially in you, he pulls back, watching the way his cum has coated you. His finger moves to collect it and he begins pushing it inside you, his finger stretching you open as he stuffs you full of his cum.

The grip you have on him is making him lose his mind, “God, you’re so fucking tight.” He groans.

You can’t offer much else but blabbered words, nothing you say very coherent, not for lack of trying though.

Johnny only chuckles, amused by how stupid you are right now, he’s not able to control himself and he begins opening you up on both of his fingers, fucking you with them. His cum making it easy, his only aim was to fuck it into you but now he wants you cumming again, the sounds you make when you cum, they’re something he hopes he never forgets. He’s playing with you, his fingers leaving to spread his cum around some more before re-entering and pulling you apart by the very fibre of your being.

You’re whimpering at him, trying to tell him you’re sensitive, that it’s too much, that you’re going to cry but he either doesn’t understand or doesn’t care and based by how pleased he looks when you begin sobbing for him, you’d safely assume it’s the latter.

He smiles brilliantly at you, “You’re such a pretty doll.”

It’s too much, “I can’t– ngh–”

“–Hmmm? What was that?” He’s taunting you; he knows what you were going to say.

 Your eyes roll to the back of your head, another orgasm already fast approaching you, sadly you think it’s significantly spurned on by how cruel he’s being to you. Your body shakes, your legs try to close but he holds them open easily, his eyes intently watching how you take his fingers.

“Sucking me right back in, got such a needy pussy, I swear,” his fingers move quicker, stroking into one spot that has you gasping out a shocked moan, “Making such a fuckin mess, sweetness, can you hear how fuckin messy you are, hmm?”

You can, the obscene noises of your shamefully wet cunt fill the room and you still find it in yourself to be embarrassed, even when reduced to a sobbing, whimpering, state. Your arm moves to cover your face and Johnny tuts at you, disapproving of the action.

He directs you, “Wanna see your pretty face, doll, keep looking right. at. me.”

Forcing yourself, you look at him, your eyes barely able to stay open, everything you see is blurry anyways. Johnny moves his thumb to circle your clit, you’re sensitive and it makes you jump, your instinct to move away, not that you get very far. He is insistent, his hand never slowing and his thumb never moving, the added stimulation has your stomach doing somersaults.

Your cunt clenches down on his fingers and Johnny groans at you, “Atta girl, there you fuckin go,” his voice is soft, encouraging.

Your orgasm wracks over your body, mind hazy and nowhere within reach, everything you moan out isn’t even close to sounding like words, the only coherent thing being Johnny’s name. Your back arches and he pins you back down again, his fingers and thumb still moving, aiding in your orgasm. It’s becoming too much but you can’t even move away from him, only able to take the overstimulation until he’s satisfied. Everything is… dark and you can’t hear a damn thing.

He does eventually show you mercy, removing his fingers from your pussy, he taps your clit a few times just to watch how you jump and spasm at the contact though, and then he really does pull back. His eyes stay on your cunt though, watching you for a moment before his gaze wanders all over your body, taking in how blissed and fucked out you look.

Wistfully, he murmurs, “I’m gonna shove my cock so deep inside you, you’ll feel me in your stomach.”

“Johnny–”

“–Not now but one day,” he laughs airily, leaning down to kiss you tenderly on the lips.

He gets off the bed and pulls on some pants, leaving to grab a cloth and water, you lay on his mattress completely gone, not a single thought in your head. When he comes back, he cleans you up and makes you drink the water.

“You make me drink a lot of water,” you mumble around the rim of the glass.

He’s watching you, completely charmed by you even though you’re a naked mess drinking water in his bed, “Need you to stay hydrated, don’t want you passing out on me.”

“Keep making me cum like that and I just might,” you pass him the almost empty glass and he places it on the nightstand. He hands you one of his t-shirts and you put it on, appreciating the cover. 

“So… you’re into biting, huh?” He’s teasing you, his grin large.

You pout at him, “Don’t be mean… panty thief.”

“Oh, how you wound me, sugar,” his hands dramatically clasp at his chest over his heart. You roll your eyes at him and he instead asks, “Wanna watch a movie?”

“I am not moving,” you say, stretching your achy muscles out.

He offers, “What if I carry you?”

“…I could be amicable to that.”

“Yeah, I fuckin bet,” he chuckles but carries you to the lounge anyways.

The movie you end up watching is one of his, which should be a shock to no one, it’s not like you’re entirely conscious of the plot though, you’re still off in the clouds. Something Johnny admonishes you for, “Pay attention!”

You argue back, “I’m tired, plus I’ve seen this one before!”

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he jokes.

“I could say the same to you,” you sigh, snuggling into his side, he wraps his arm around you and holds you close.

This is the most peaceful you have felt in a while, you feel safe and cared for and you think, you could stay like this forever.

✰ ✰ ✰

Thank you for reading it all !!!!! I know it was quite a lot to get through >v< Let me know your thoughts/feelings and reach out if you have questions !!! ily and have a beautiful day/night <33

[movie-magic]

Marvel's Eternals Powers Explained: What Each Team Member Can Do

The Eternals have a shared set of powers, but some are also unique. Here's what you need to know about the powers of each Eternal in the MCU.

Marvel's The Eternals movie will introduce ten immortal aliens to the Marvel Cinematic Universe, but what powers will they have? Directed by Chloe Zhao and originally scheduled for a November 2020 release, The Eternals will instead hit theaters in November 2021 and bring some of Marvel's most obscure heroes into the MCU. Through Ikaris (Richard Madden), Thena (Angelina Jolie), and more, audiences will get a glimpse into the history of the MCU. Though set in the present-day, portions of the movie will explore ancient time periods.

The movie is based on characters who are the brainchild of the legendary comic book writer and artist Jack Kirby. In the late 1970s, Kirby wrote The Eternals, a comic book series that told the story of a race of immortal, super-powered beings who have the shared the Earth with humans in secret for thousands of years. It was established that these people were created by god-like beings known as the Celestials.

The film adaptation of Eternals will pit the heroes from the comic against another Jack Kirby creation, the Deviants. In the comics, the Deviants are the primary antagonists of the Eternals. As for what will happen when these ancient enemies clash on the big screen, that remains to be seen. Regardless, the Deviants will most certainly have their hands full, considering just how powerful the Eternals are in the comics. After all, the Eternals are arguably the most unique race in the Marvel Universe. With the first official Eternals trailer now released, here's what you need to know about the different powers of the Eternals ahead of their MCU debut.

What separates the Eternals from other Marvel races like the X-Men and the Inhumans in the comic books is that the Eternals don't rely on just one or two powers. As Eternals are fueled by cosmic energy, they have access to a multitude of abilities that are possessed by every Eternal. All Eternals are capable of super strength, teleportation, telepathy, telekinesis, matter manipulation, flight through levitation, creating illusions, and the ability to shoot cosmic rays out of their eyes and hands. Eternals are also nearly impossible to kill because they have complete mental control over the molecules, enabling them to restore themselves at will when their bodies are destroyed. Also, Eternals are capable of channeling their cosmic energy to enhance certain abilities. That's why some Eternals have unique powers of their own, and why some are stronger in specific areas than their fellow Eternals.

Kingo:

Kumail Nanjiani as Kingo Eternals

Kingo has very limited number of appearances in Marvel Comics, so his exact limits in terms of his powers as an Eternal are not known. What distinguishes him from the others is his skill with a sword. Kingo, who makes samurai moves in Japan, is an expert swordsman. The MCU's Kingo (Kumail Nanjiani) is being reimagined as a Bollywood star, however. Between that and the brief trailer footage, it's not clear yet if he'll share his comic book counterpart's interest in swordsmanship. He'll almost certainly have each of the aforementioned shared abilities.

Ikaris:

Richard Madden as Ikaris

Richard Madden was spotted on set using some of his Eternal powers, and the character has been described as "all-powerful" in the official Eternals synopsis. This lines up what how he is portrayed in the comics. Instead of focusing on one ability, Ikaris has channeled his energy in a way that has made him adept with all of his powers, making him better than average - but not the best - in each area. Though none of his powers were on display in the Eternals trailer, Ikaris is also the second strongest Eternal on Earth.

Gilgamesh:

Don Lee as Gilgamesh

The only Earth-based Eternal stronger than Ikaris is Gilgamesh, who will be played by Don Lee. Gilgamesh ranks near the top of the Marvel Universe when it comes to strength, as he's on the same level as Thor and Hercules, and above heroes like Captain Marvel, Namor, and more. This, combined with his other natural abilities as an Eternal, may make him a contender for the MCU's most powerful character. Beyond his apparent skills in the kitchen, Eternals seemed to be saving a glimpse at his strength for the film's official release.

Phastos:

Brian Tyree Henry as Phastos

Whereas Gilgamesh has focused on enhancing his raw power, Phastos is more experienced with using his cosmic energy as a ranged weapon. Of course, as previously mentioned, all Eternals have this ability, but Phastos' cosmic rays are especially potent and dangerous. In addition to that, Phastos also brings to the table a talent for creating technology and weapons. The Eternals synopsis has revealed that Brian Tyree Henry's take on Phastos will be an inventor, just like the hero in the comic books. With Sprite (Lia McHugh) half watching on, Phastos was one of the few seen utilizing his powers in the trailer — seemingly in his aforementioned capacity as an inventor.

Thena:

Thena played by Angelina Jolie

Angelina Jolie's Thena is said to be a "fierce warrior", which is an accurate description of the daughter of Zuras and one-time leader of the Eternals. Thena, who has spent centuries training her powers, is also an expert in creating and wielding various forms of weaponry, with her favorite weapons being a powerful, golden spear and a crossbow that fires bolts of cold energy. The Eternals trailer offered multiple glimpses of Thena engaged in such training throughout history. The moments culminated with her seemingly using her energy manipulation to fashion a sword and standing ready in a battle stance.

Sersi:

Gemma Chan as Sersi

Sersi can manipulate matter on such a grand scale that she outshines all Eternals in this category. She can take the molecules in a person or object and reshape them into whatever she pleases. For example, Sersi can transform an assailant into a harmless animal, if that's her intention. Sersi, who has more fun with her powers than most Eternals, also has a great potential for destruction. When she went through a period of instability in the pages of The Avengers, she became the comic's answer to Jean Grey. Set photos have shown Gemma Chan's Sersi making hand gestures that make it appear that she's using her matter manipulation abilities from the comics. After no sign in the trailer, however, fans will have to keep waiting to see her put those abilities into action.

Sprite:

Lia McHugh as Sprite

McHugh's Sprite is one of three male characters from the comics to be gender-swapped for the film, the other two being Makkari and Ajak. Sprite, despite their immortality, has the physical appearance of a child. As an Eternal, all of their powers are average, except for skills in matter manipulation. Sprite isn't as good as Sersi, but still among the only characters who comes close to her. They often use this skill in a trickster fashion not dissimilar from Loki. Though Sprite could be witnessed apparently enjoying the fruits of such powerful labor, they have yet to be shown on-screen.

Makkari:

Lauren Ridloff as Makkari

Lauren Ridloff's Makkari is confirmed to be "super-fast" in Eternals. In the comics, Makkari spends most of his time channeling his cosmic energy to improve his speed, as Makkari's highest ambition is to become the fastest person in the universe. In the past, he's even managed to outrun Quicksilver himself. For obvious reasons, that ambition will likely go unrealized within the MCU. Regardless, Ridloff's verson of Makkari got to demonstrate her powers a lot more than the others in the Eternals trailer. As well as speed-reading and gathering a collection of things to make even Evan Peters' Quicksilver jealous, Makkari was seen directly saving somebody from being crushed by a collapsing structure.

Druig:

Barry Keoghan as Druig

For the most part, Druig's powers are comparable to his fellow Eternals, but there are two areas in particular where he excels. Druig is quite skilled in the manipulation of matter, but like Sprite, his prowess with this ability still isn't as impressive as Sersi's. One power that he seems to have greater control over than other members of his race is telepathy. Druig, who has tortured people for the KGB, has a great deal of experience in reading people's minds and manipulating their thoughts. His mastery over this power even allows him to telepathically force people into doing his bidding. The Eternals trailer subtly hinted at the latter abilities, seemingly using them to make a cult-like group turn their guns on people.

Ajak:

Salma Hayek as Ajak

Ajak has all the powers of the average Eternal, but can do one thing that the others can't. He can communicate with their creators, the Celestials. This makes Ajak essential to the group, since the Celestials visit the Earth periodically to pass judgment on the planet. This ability may have something do with why Salma Hayek's Ajak is selected to be the leader of the MCU's Eternals. The new teaser left such communicative elements of her powers unseen. However, Ajak received a distinct moment of harnessing her matter manipulation for some as-yet unknown purpose. As seen also but her collection of plants, Ajak will channel her gifts and expertise into herbal and generation medicine — making her the master healer of the group.

Dane Whitman (A.k.a. Black Knight):

Kit Harington as Dane Whitman / Black Knight

Played by Kit Harington, Dane Whitman isn't a member of the Eternals. Regardless, he'll be an integral part of the film, engaging in a relationship with Sersi and likely helping out the team in one capacity or another. Entirely human, Whitman's main attribute was his genius-level intellect (especially in the field of physics and genetics). Upon taking ownership of the Ebony Blade, however, Dane took on the mantle of Black Knight. In that persona, he was gifted magical senses, as well as enhanced strength, speed, and more, to go with his already considerable swordsmanship. With them, Black Knight went on to become a member of The Avengers in his own right. It was left unclear in the Eternals trailer whether Dane had already taken that mantle or will merely offer a scientific assistance — with the film (or maybe just a post-credits scene) serving as an origin story for his superhero persona.

- Screen Rant

[astrolovecosmos]

Ascendant + Midheaven

Ascendant: Impressions 

Midheaven (MC): Reputation 

Impression is what we see, feel, read, what is expressed to us. 

Reputation is built and destroyed based off deeds, actions, success, but also sometimes rumors/gossip. 

(If you have an intercepted house/double sign and your chart is offset, please send an ask for other Ascendant and MC combinations) 

Aries Ascendant: Known for bluntness, giving off a forward impression. The self is very important - coming off as selfish to some but possibly empowered to others. Focus on the self can also mean a struggle to balance self wants vs. other’s wants, especially with a Libra DC. This person faces many challenges that require them to reanalyze the self, relate to others, and think about others. Capricorn MC: While the Aries Ascendant gives off a self-centered or maybe self-conflicted vibe, this person’s reputation is heavily based on their career success. This isn’t so much in a “predictive” manner but that they may put a lot of weight into what their career is. Aries and Capricorn are both ambitious signs. This makes for a go-getter person who is focused on what they want to achieve. There is a push and pull between expression of individuality through the Ascendant and wanting to stand out in a positive way, that aligns with their society. They want to contribute to society. The points, sharing the same mode walk through lessons of Cardinal, mutable, fixed. With Aries vs Capricorn in these placements there is a lesson to help others, do favors for others to build up integrity. This isn’t just for reputations sake but to better connect the self with others.

Taurus Ascendant: A calm expression that desires harmony, contentment. Down to earth individual who connects easily with others. Sensuality and comfort are so very important to them. Aquarius MC:  Who finds fulfillment in the unusual. There is a desire to stand out. Ambition can be intellectual or it can be in connecting with people. While the Ascendant is welcoming their reputation can surprise. Many may have heard of them, talk about them, the collective can manifest in abundance of people knowing them and/or in their own goals of helping society or a community. Themes of attachment and detachment exist. Taurus highly attached to expression, especially if we get into things like artistic expression. Possessiveness of Taurus can also exist, likely not in surface level relationships but in how they approach others perception and their perception of others. Ex: they may have a hard time letting go of the fact that someone’s impression/idea of them has soured.They admire or hold onto those who like them/admire them. To say they cling to what others think is entirely too simple. It is more about a fixed nature in self expression and view of self. Whereas the Aquarius MC wants to be free of all this. There is a goal to rise above reputation, gossip, status. Traditional vs. non traditional is a struggle in how they approach the world, others, success.

Gemini Ascendant: Talkative, energetic, observant, maybe even intimidating. What a range of impressions and a self that is varied, changing. Pisces MC: We see a very fluid person in terms of the public sphere. Emphasis on healing, service, spirituality, and creativity but defining this person is hard. A vague standing when it comes to reputation or status. Maybe frequently unknown or forgotten about (which before you get offended could certainly be used as a strength). All mutable signs are flexible but with these two you get a person hard to figure out. Despite first impressions or gossip, it is the self that causes and has the most confusion. This is an individual who has a level of uncertainty or instability within. A desire to learn about and connect with others exist from the ascendant. A desire to help others from the MC. Whereas the ascendant may be all talk the MC is built upon caring and healing others OR connecting on an emotional or deep level. A focus on people and the contrast of relating others to the self vs. feeling or even becoming like another is important to an individual with this dynamic.

Cancer Ascendant: Protective shell of toughness or possibly shyness. Approaching the world emotionally. There is a sense of vulnerability about the self that is not shown but at times makes them a slave to their moods. Expression is cautious. They reflect family or community values and traditions.  Aries MC: A very ambitious placement. Their influence on others and actions surely build up their reputation. Here the Cancer Ascendant shell must be broken at times to leave a mark. Maybe it is because of the hesitance or shyness of the ascendant that when this person makes a move or succeeds it stands out so much. I would be careful of thinking this person’s “rep” or how they are perceived is in the hot-blooded stereotype of Aries. It is more how they take the lead in public situations, through decisiveness, seizing opportunities, and sharing their passion. There is a lesson between wanting to preserve and protect the self vs. the need to be open and to put themselves out there. With the strong emotions of Aries and Cancer, this person is sure to leave a mark that is felt wherever they go.

Leo Ascendant: Loud, outgoing, warm, even if a little shyer they still shine with individuality and creativity. The self should be celebrated, self expression is part of being, and they approach others with friendliness and generosity. The world is a stage and sometimes they fall into thinking they are the center of the universe or at least have enough self-respect to make themselves a priority. Taurus MC: Solid determination and thought out goals, with the Leo ascendant this packs a punch when dealing with others and in the public sphere. There is a level-headed approach to the outside world and despite their flashy ascendant might not call a lot of attention to themselves in the workplace or in their personal community. Having a status that is steady may be one of the most common highlights of this dynamic. They can be patient when it comes to their career and dealing with outsiders but the strong desires of their ascendant can cause not so much an impatience but self-doubt towards their dreams or recognition. There is a struggle between wanting influence and wanting material success. There is a desire for security from the MC but the bravery and even risk taking side of the Leo ascendant can threaten this sometimes. Change can be a fear when it comes to their career or the outside world but their Leo ascendant which is confident in the self can help them conquer this.

Virgo Ascendant: Practical approach to life, see’s the world as a place to analyze and sort, and can be humble towards the self and/or is constantly looking for ways to improve the self. They can have a subtle and/or earthy appeal, they sometimes give off a worried or uptight vibe but their flexibility, patience, and calmness can still make them approachable. Gemini MC: The Virgo ascendant is all about fine tuning the self and is focused in this regard, but the Gemini MC is scattered in their career and ambitions. They are likely known as talkative or just as someone easy to talk to. This person may struggle to find what they are good at or what they want to do in life. They can get frustrated with the changeability of their public standing. Taking their focus in self and applying it to their ambitions is a lesson. The flexibility of mutable placements overall can be a strength when times are tough, making it easy to move on and leave behind a bad job or the ability to take on multiple jobs. But save the day job for the 6th house, with the MC they find fulfillment through learning, mental stimulation, and basing their goals around new information and curiosity. Their ascendant may always feel dissatisfied with the lack of depth and expertise. Embracing adaptability, communication, organization, observation, and cleverness as their core strengths is important. As for the opinions of others, there is a lot to say about the whimsical and fast moving Gemini MC, good thing, only the feedback of the Virgo ascendant matters.

Libra Ascendant: Charming, social, likable, promising for making a positive impression. Here the ascendant is always trying to relate to others. While the Aries descendant has a desire for independence and separation, the ascendant still wants to make others happy. Cancer MC: Here ambitions are turned more inward and have a focus on the domestic sphere. The MC stands for what others see most clearly. It stands for the public. With this in mind, their reputation is still very important to them in their immediate community and/or neighborhood, especially their family’s reputation. They may prefer to take the safe route when it comes to the public. Despite their control and charm in social situations they hide their private lives. Libra’s evasiveness can help out with this goal. With the Libra ascendant wanting to find their partner, soulmate, teammate as well as to influence socially - the IC with a cooler domestic life and great need for stability from those closest, the DC wanting to stand on their own, form bonds with those who accept individuality, give them independence and decision power - to the Cancer MC who focuses on family/loved ones as well as emotional control in the outer world; we see the circle of cardinal energy deeply caring about others but also wanting to take action for the self. With the Libra ascendant and Cancer MC this action is most seen being spent on others.

Scorpio Ascendant: Let’s skip over the intense gaze, mystery, magnetism and get to the point of living privately. This person is aware of the depth of self but this is not shared openly. There is a great desire to master the world and themselves. Power plays a role in their approach to life but so does a great want to get to the depth of people, beliefs, the physical, the intangible. Leo MC: The Leo MC wants to run things or even be in the spotlight. They don’t just want a good reputation, they want to be well known. This is a clash with the secretive, behind-the-scenes Scorpio ascendant. The Leo MC excels in many industries but has a special creative knack, self expression being key to building up their reputation and network. Maybe they are known for their fashion, a dark humor, or art. Creativity is a great way to channel the passionate and intense energies of the ascendant. Through the leadership and generosity of this MC combined with the perception and compassion of Scorpio they can make powerful, positive impacts in others’ lives. Scorpio’s fear of vulnerability, inadequacy, betrayal, and abandonment makes it hard for them to extend themselves, to come out onto the stage. With an Aquarius IC who may have unconventional family bonds or possible detachment in their closest bonds + care of self combined with the needed security the Taurus DS craves - a really good support system helps them reach their full potential. But they may not always have this support. So with the Leo and Scorpio dynamic, this is really about empowerment. Fuel the courage to go after their ambitions.

Sagittarius Ascendant: Open, carefree, and friendly persona. With an exploratory approach to the world, a willingness to learn, there is a philosophical view on life and even more so introspection. To find meaning in who they are and/or in life is important. Virgo MC: Practice makes perfect is their approach towards career, success, drive, the public. Mastering their craft is important to them however with the ascendant’s big picture approach and impulsiveness this can be a challenge. Taking the self and reputation seriously is a lesson, the ascendant tends to be more relaxed in how others interpret or receive them. They may not take life too seriously, at least not when younger. Figuring out what is worth devoting to, what is worth focusing on will be a journey in life. While the MC is precision and practicality and the ascendant big dreams and instinct, there is a combined drive to leave a enlightened or life-changing mark, something that makes things “better”, to heal or to serve or to shed light.

Capricorn Ascendant: Steady and highly practical approach to the world. There is a private feel about them and sometimes a rigid feel. Confidence and action in their decisions can show. Libra MC: The overly pragmatic self can conflict with the want to connect and possibly the artistic love the MC may have. Their reputation may be built upon looks, talent, or their relationships. But the ascendant has a desire to be known off personal success, integrity, maybe even hardship. The ambition from Libra exist on a much lighter plane of tact, beauty, pleasantry. It may be more that the ascendant recognizes all their own hard work and gets frustrated when others do not. A mind for justice can form, but the ascendant is prone to trusting only their own judgment and the MC to finding it hard to make a decision or come to a verdict. The MC indecision in career can frustrate the ascendant who solidly wants to forge a path with meaning and tangible success. This person may feel like they have something to prove due to the dynamic. With this combo they are on a mission to ultimately prove things like self worth, inner authority, decision making, and self love to themselves.

Aquarius Ascendant: Known to stand out in their individuality, independence, and visionary approach to the world. Can be social and charismatic but still has a “cool as a cucumber” vibe. Scorpio MC: With possible dispassion from the ascendant, the MC still wants to dive in deep to what they do in life. Career must be connected to their passion and bring real emotional fulfillment. Reputation may be built upon how they make others feel. Scorpio known for rawness and intimacy finds a hard lesson through the self/expression that wants to separate. But the ascendant is all about humanity and humanitarianism, MC about impacting people on an individual level. Here we see the possibility to become a guide, healer, innovator.

Pisces Ascendant: A receptive self, a vague expression, changeable. The self here is very "bendable". Before we label them as "soft" their flexibility allows them to adjust to many different vibes and situations - even taking on a hostile persona. Sagittarius MC: Wants direction and thinks about the future, something their ascendant might want to avoid. Adaptable and quick like the ascendant but there is a strong desire to make sense of the world, especially in a moral or philosophical way whereas the ascendant exist in a unclear space. May build their reputation off of knowledge, risks taking, and entertainment. Their reputation at times can see or feel like a facade because of the highly fluid expression and self. There may be a desire to be known for their beliefs and righteousness, their healing and enlightenment. "The road to hell is paved with good intentions" is a hurdle for this combo. Displaying their kindness, open mind, and generosity is a lesson, along with evidence (really more so to themselves) that they help others or love others. The ascendant can easily give affection and compassion but their lack of boundaries can be interpreted in many, many different ways. The MC who takes a more fiery approach to the outside world can display a scattered, insensitive, and self-focused reputation. A lack of boundaries or unwillingness to assert the self combined with an impulsive or even reckless ambition makes it hard to take in and reflect on their personal bonds or how they want to make a difference. This ascendant and midheaven is a powerful duo in making a spiritual impact or in bringing a deeper knowledge to the world. The self finding direction in their ambition and interactions with the outer world.

[drawbauchery]

The Inherent Eroticism of Clowning

fic by cartoons-tothemoon

At some point, Rico realized that Kowalski wasn’t a smiler.

He wouldn’t call the guy happy or well-adjusted, but, then again, could he even call himself that? And he smiled all the time!

But Kowalski…

It wasn’t like he was an especially angsty guy, he was just…moody. Emotional. Maybe even more so than Private. Private had two modes that he volleyed through, and otherwise remained at a middle point of the emotional equilibrium where he was just…fine. Skipper’s emotional state also seemed to be apathetic unless under great stress. But Kowalski? Kowalski bounced back and forth between that spectrum, it might as well been like watching a tennis game.

It fascinated him on some level that their resident nerd seemed to share many of the same instabilities as he did, and on some level, he was able to find a kinship in that.

Of course, Kowalski was never receptive of such a friendship, and why would he be? It would mean, on some level, admitting to being some sort of freak. An overly-emotional basket case with some unexamined problems here and there.

Sure, it was fine to BE like that, but admitting to it meant some form of culpability. The only reason Rico usually didn’t have to deal with consequences like that was because Skipper didn’t usually bother over-examining the issues that laid before him or the little discipline he gave him was harsh and swift enough to be a simple slap of the cuffs for five minutes before Rico could go on with his life.

Kowalski wasn’t the type to receive a slap on the wrist. He was, for lack of a better word, good. Not morally good, but, good by the standards of the team. He could be building his third edition of a death ray, but as long as he stayed out of Skipper’s way in the morning he might as well be a saint.

Come to think of it, Kowalski stayed out of everybody’s way, pretty much. Sure, they ate meals together and watched movies, but unless Skipper called them together or he had something to show off, he mostly kept to himself. He was usually in his lab or in Private’s greenhouse…

These were the facts as Rico knew them. Kowalski was a paradoxically over-emotional logical man of science, who gave off the vibes of being a gifted student in grade school, and kept to himself.

And he wasn’t a smiler. Over-emotional, yes, overly positive emotions? Not quite.

Rico figured it was his job to change that.

———

Over breakfast that morning, Private and Skipper went through their strange morning charade of being simultaneously open and loving and incredibly repressed, which, made for good entertainment on slow days.

However, this was not going to be one of those slow days. He had the lofty goal of trying to make Kowalski not only smile, but laugh. Laughter was easier to gain without just simply asking than smiling. It was sudden and explosive, while smiling was quiet and demure. Not his style, but he was looking for something of the same effect.

And besides, to get a genuine smile out of him in the first place, what was he really going to do? Complimenting him would feel weird, and anything else felt like uncharted waters for a reason. He might be known as the impulsive and weird one, willing to dive into anything, but, that came to violence and action. Those things made sense to him. Social things, even benign ones like these with people who he has known for years, had their own rolling tides associate with them. He didn’t know if these seas would treat him unfavorably, but he would never truly know until he took the plunge.

As plates were set down on the table of some weird sort of Russian pancake that Private had found on the internet and had wanted to test out in the kitchen, a thing that seemed to make him rather proud, enthusiastic to try something new, Rico dropped a line in Kowalski’s direction he had found on the internet.

A spoon was dropped.

Private looked scandalized, his palms practically super-glueing themselves to his face in shock. Skipper looked a little horrified, eyes briefly flittering to Private to read his reaction. Yeah, he saw that. Kowalski seemed to share in this same look of horror, jaw agape, blinking once or twice to get a read on the situation before letting out something of a confused scoff?   - He was guessing that was what it was - before he wrapped a hand around his mouth too and turned to the side to cough.

He couldn’t guess what his own face looked like, but he guessed it was a little vacant, at the least. didn’t see anything wrong with what he said, but he probably should’ve guessed he’d be wrong about that given his track record.

And that was how Rico once again found himself forever trapped in the ‘too horny on main’ corner that seemed to exist only because of him, with cold blintzes and an empty kitchen to return to.

He was forced to acknowledge it. In the event of being given the choice to sink or swim, he sunk. And everyone knew he did.

———

Upon reflection, Rico was starting to think that Kowalski might have been a happier person than he thought he was. He knows that whenever Private tells him a lame pun or joke, he gives a small laugh or two to keep him from getting discouraged. Not to mention, whenever Skipper praises an invention, be it an actual “good work, Kowalski!” or a back-handed “I like that it hasn’t killed us yet” seems to make him rather excited, though that could just be the pure enthusiasm he has when it comes to his work carrying him through a demonstration.

Come to think of it, Kowalski doesn’t smile a lot around him. He might if they’re in a group, when they’re all celebrating something with this big mob mentality thing going for them, but, otherwise. Nah.

Maybe this is because they don’t hang out a lot? He WAS banned from the lab. There was a sign and everything.

Maybe he just didn’t like him all that much? It’s not like he ever SAID anything really, but who could be for certain?

These were the things he had to think about while he braided Julien’s hair. Well, tried to, anyhow. He didn’t exactly understand how it worked, and no matter how many times Julien explained it to him, even that day, he didn’t think he was ever going to get it. However, on some level, it was their “thing” to do together, on days where they didn’t feel like doing anything but lounging around, but still wanted to do something more than watch TV. So, that seemed to be their afternoon, trying to figure out a French braid while he contemplated the emotional state of another man. It would sound almost scandalous if Julien didn’t know.

“You are like, the funniest guy on the planet,” Julien stated. “The idea that he can’t even shine a smile at you is a thing that is preposterous.”

Rico hummed at that, giving him a small head scratch that had Julien reaching for his hand to keep at the motion, but his mind was still somewhat elsewhere.

Julien probably only thought such a thing because he already liked Rico, and this love  of his had made him dumb. Just yesterday he read online that he should microwave a metal spoon before having ice cream, so it’s easier to scoop out of the tin, and Kowalski had to save what he referred to as his “souped-up electromagnetic baby” from such an act as soon as the sparking had drawn his attention.

Yes, truly it was love that had made him dumb. Nothing else, be it circumstances nor his general careless nature, could be the cause of such a thing.

At least the microwave thing had made Julien laugh. Watching Kowalski scramble from his seat at the kitchen table to wrestle a uranium-powered microwave off the counter, forgetting in his panic that he could’ve simply unplugged the thing. Such an act toppled him over, almost crushing him underneath the device. Julien found the erratic movement funny enough to laugh, even if it turned Kowalski three shades of a flustered red in the face afterwards.

Rico was also there. He knew what was going to happen when Julien had suggested it, and wanted to watch the sparks fly with him. He should’ve expected Kowalski to prevent them from absolutely destroying his creation, but he didn’t expect that.

Perhaps Kowalski was full of surprises like that. Multi-faceted. A puzzle.

That almost frustrated Rico more. He HATED puzzles. He liked things direct. To the point. Muddling through ambiguity was just such a weird and fussy thing to him. There was a reason he was the only one in the group with a functional romantic relationship that was able to stand more than three months of time, but it wasn’t that easy.

For one, Julien had asked first.

For second…what was he even supposed to say? “Have you secretly hated me this entire time or are my jokes just simply that terrible that you can’t even smile in my presence out of principle?” That was too direct. That got to the heart of this weird insecurity that had only popped up in the last week, and Kowalski seemed like the type to be frightened by that kind of thing.

And besides, the last thing Rico wanted was to look insecure. The second last thing Rico wanted, though, was to BE insecure, so those two conflicting thoughts sort of kept him from taking action. Or, at the very least, taking action at this point in time.

He was considered sort of an absolutist in his own right. An all-or-nothing sort of guy. However, that didn’t mean he was incapable of walking the thin line of gray that lined the black and white.

He just wasn’t capable of doing that right now.

After all, he was trying to learn how to braid a French braid.

———

Rico decided to lay relatively low for the rest of the day. Nothing during lunch, no weird comments during dinner. Nothing.

Sure, he still talked, but, it was a casual sort of thing. All very shallow stuff like “hey, how was your day?” Or “hey, dinner was pretty good tonight.” You know, normal things that sounded so utterly strange out of him. He might as well have been flying a kite at night, that’s how unsavory he guessed it came off given the ire that Skipper gave him during dinner, though Private seemed to welcome it.

It was a movie night tonight, though, and it was Rico’s turn to pick, so he figured he’d take advantage of the situation he was in. Especially since Private and Skipper were busy making up the popcorn (why there needed to be two of them when they weren’t even using it as an excuse to make out, he’d never know) and Julien and Maurice were chilling in the other corner of the room, reading or looking at their phones or something of the sort.

He had to seize the opportunity that he had so carelessly squandered earlier.

Rico flickered through a bunch of action movies, a few catching his eye for later viewings, but none of them really appealing to him at the moment.

He turned to Kowalski and shrugged.

“Y-You got any n-nature docu-documentaries you’re lo-looking to watch?”

“Are you feeling alright?”

“O-Only if they’re, if they’re cool.”

Kowalski seemed a little surprised at this. He shrugged. “There’s one about anacondas I’ve been looking to watch.”

“A-Are you s-sure that isn’t m-meant f-for pri-private viewing?”

Kowalski had to take a second to think about it before returning slightly scandalized, though more mad than anything else really. “It’s the REPTILE. That’s a dated joke even by your standards.”

Rico laughed a little to himself before sobering up. “I g-guess I ha-have been acting, acting weird t-today.”

Kowalski regarded this at first dryly, but then with a touch more compassion than Rico thought he was capable of showing towards him. “Oh, uh,” he began elegantly.

Rico sighed. “There’s-there’s a lot of el-elements t-to how I’m f-feeling, ya know?”

It looked as if Kowalski was about to put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder, but he seemed to hesitate for a reason Rico didn’t understand that well, but also didn’t want explained.

“Yeah. L-lots of el-elements. H-hydrogen, Ox-oxygen, RadoN, Yttri-yttrium…The lot.” He sighed once more, trying to keep the smirk from sliding onto his face.

The hesitant hand that was at first drawn to Rico’s shoulder found a place under his chin as Kowalski slowly thought about what he said and how he compiled it together. When Kowalski realized, his eyes widened and Rico received a punch in the arm as Kowalski laughed, genuinely LAUGHED at such a stupid, corny science joke! He could’ve sworn Kowalski would’ve called him a son of a bitch as he did if he was that type of a guy. Seeing him laugh made Rico laugh too, with a sense of camaraderie that came with it, which kept Kowalski laughing as well in a sort of self-perpetuating cycle.

Rico let out a heavy breath as he had finally gotten it out of his system, and out of the corner of his eye, saw something he had never really picked up on before.

When Kowalski laughed, perhaps for too long, or maybe a little too much, or he just didn’t want anyone to pick up on it, he went to cover his mouth with his hand. It helped to mask the emotion somewhat, and it wasn’t the first time Rico picked up on the motion as a way to maintain a pokerface, but he saw it in a somewhat new light, so to speak.

He just had to be casual about it.

“Y-you do that every time?”

“What? Oh.” Kowalski said, hiding a smile behind his fist, though to call it hiding was generous in its own right, if not inaccurate. It was more of a self-soothing gesture. A comforting gesture, more than anything else. “Well, we can’t let you get too egotistical, huh.”

Then it took Rico a moment to think, and Kowalski used the time to grab the remote and select the documentary. When Kowalski pressed play, that’s when he realized it, “you mean this morning you-!?”

“Shh! It’s starting.”

———

“They didn’t even wait for the popcorn.” Private pouted, his arms wrapped around the largest bowl they could find in the kitchen.

“Did you hear how they were dancing around each other? Get a clue, am I right?” Skipper muttered as he grabbed a handful of popcorn from the bowl.

Despite their misgivings and their grumblings, they too soon could be found in front of the television for a movie night, even for a movie like this.

(I didn’t want to genuinely write out some sort of ass-clapping joke, but that’s probably the kind of joke Rico told. I know it in my heart, but with the ambiguity there you can kill the author who killed the previous author, so to speak and say what kind of joke he made. I capitalized the parts of the elements that spell out the secret message. You learn something new every day, but nobody ever said you learned something useful every day. You just happened to today. )

[ihatetaxes99]

Death Note: The Glorious Manga Ending (And the anime that failed to deliver)

Well, this is certainly something a tad different from my usual affairs. Yes, I'm delighted to bear the news that I am taking a break from writing sub-par fanfiction and selling weapons to Middle Eastern terrorists in order to follow something a little less creative, but more immediately interesting to me in my current time of writing. I mean, hell, there's probably a 60% chance that no one will ever read this, since I'll likely drop it halfway through and go back to my black market dealings. But, in that small 40% chance that I do get this out the door, or indeed any further than this very sentence before I forget about it for all eternity, then I want to have a little discussion, a fun little analysis. And of course, I'm going to analyse everyone's favourite slice of life fluff comedy, Death Note. Specifically the ending and how I think the manga surpasses the anime in many, many ways.

If you haven't yet read or watched Death Note, then you won't be reading this anyway, so it would be rather pointless at best and an insult to your intelligence at worst to give a recap of how the series works. If you must have a layman's explanation, big murder book gets dropped into the human world, shenanigans ensue. There, now go watch or read it for yourself. Preferably read, as I am about to discuss. The manga is far better, entirely because of the second half. It's no secret that the Death Note anime handled the second half poorly. Content was cut, elements were skipped, scenes were changed entirely and Near, my favourite character from the manga, was done so dirty that he generally ranks as many people's least favourite, for some understandable reasons and others that I consider rather weak. But the main part of the second half aside, I want to talk about the final showdown, the confrontation in the Yellow Box warehouse, and how I feel the anime adaptation butchered a near-perfect ending for the sake of either time, or budget, or maybe to appease Light fangirls (because that definitely has a factor in why I don't like the anime's ending as much.)

So, to recap, most of the confrontation at the warehouse between the SPK and Kira plays out very much the same. Mikami writes the names down, Light reveals himself, the notebook is revealed to be a fake and Yagami has his famous mental breakdown, followed by one of the most powerful lines in the series:

(Note: I condensed the speech to fit neatly into two boxes)

I love this speech. I think it's one of the best in the series, for reasons that very much tie into why the ending in the manga works better. I want you all to think for a moment; I've seen a lot of people say Death Note is a series that doesn't take sides on the conflict. No, that is bullshit. In the early series, maybe, but from the moment Light Yagami killed Naomi Misora, and arguably even earlier than that with Raye Pembre, he was consistently portrayed as being more and more callous, more evil, more of a scumbag. Let's look over what he did, especially in the later stages of the series.

He:

Murdered the FBI agents tailing him.

Only expressed regret over Utika's death because it may negatively affect Kira's reputation.

Watched with no emotion as his father died and indeed, encouraged him to use the Death Note moments before he died.

Mocked Matsuda for mourning his father's death.

Manipulated two seperate women into doing his bidding (albeit, one was unintentional) and killed one himself, with plans to kill the other had he not been killed.

Instigated a riot in New York with the intent of killing Near and the SPK.

Killed FBI agents who were tailing him.

Only cared about Utika's death because it compromised Kira's strong public image and not because he was actually a good man.

Manipulated two seperate women into falling for him (albeit one was accidental) and promptly killed off one with no hesitation, with plans of killing the other had he not met his end first.

Watched emotionless as his own father died and even tried to get him to use the Death Note in his last moments.

Mocked Matsuda for mourning the death of his father and used it in a last ditch effort to distract the detective and escape.

Staged a riot with the intent of killing Near and the rest of the SPK.

And these are just some of them. By the end of Death Note, Light was not a good person. I personally never agreed with him, but he went from a disillusioned kid with a minor saviour complex to A full-blown, sadistic, perverted image of what he used to be, utterly unfeeling and cold-hearted, with a major God complex, a complete lunatic. As Near said, a mass murderer and nothing more. After everything Yagami's done over the course of the series, it was just too satisfying to read this for the first time, and I will concede, the anime did a great job adapting it. I feel a lot of Light fangirls agreed with him because his ideals sounded good on paper, but in reality, they're completely childish and self-serving. I am not one to moral grandstand, I believe those who take any excuse to give lectures about morality are annoying and often hypocritical scum, but my point here is that this is not a man any reasonable person could agree with if he were a real person. So, this teardown of his ego was perfect.

Now, the first big difference is the ultimate fate of Teru Mikami. In the anime, he kills himself in the warehouse, in a scene that makes me laugh every time due to the comically large quantities of blood spewing from him. He dies defending Kira's ideals, believing in his God. Or, if you choose to interpret it another way, he has accepted that Light is not God, and he has nothing else to live for. Either way, the anime lacks a key scene, after Light is shot by Matsuda and begging for help:

This is extremely important, as it continues what Near did with his speech and sets in motion the following trend for what is to come. Light is humiliated, his second most faithful pawn has turned against him, called him scum, seen him for what he truly is, and worse still, he's done it in front of everyone else. Teru Mikami has denounced his God, and this is just the stepping stone for the humiliation Kira is about to suffer. Also, it's worth noting that just before Mikami denounces Kira, there's a scene of Light crawling on the ground, bleeding, calling out for Misa and Takada to help him, seeming to have gone totally delusional, forgetting that Takada was already dead. This may have been excluded from the anime, or it may have been the fault of the subs I was using. It still serves as a vital part of the theme that the final few chapters hammer in, over and over again, that being the complete and total humiliation of Light Yagami. And the worst for our criminal-killing protagonist is still to come.

Finally, we reach the fate of the original Kira, the end of Light Yagami. In the anime, he uses Mikami's suicide as a distraction to escape, wherein he runs off, seeing visions of his past self, and dies out in the middle of a staircase, from a heart attack delivered by Ryuuk, calmly and quietly. This is all very nice and emotional, we see for a moment, Light contemplates what he became and wondering how it could have ended differently, and him dying in the middle of the staircase, as many people have stated before, is oh so very symbolic of how he finds himself unable to reach Heaven or Hell. However, this does not hold a candle to the manga.

This is what Light is like upon his death there:

Yeah, there's no real doubting it, he's going out like a complete bitch. Like the anime was thoughtful and silent, with an underlying sombre soundtrack, in this the once great Kira is reduced to a blubbering mess, throwing a tantrum because he refuses to accept his time is up. It was made very clear to him at the beginning that he was to die at Ryuuk's hand one day and now that it's here, he can't take it. He tries to cheat death, the one thing no human nor Shinigami can do. I mean, just look at the panels. He's a mess. A privileged, pampered brat who isn't getting his way. That is why I consider the Death Note manga ending to be superior to the anime in almost every way. While the anime gives us symbolism and a sense of calm, the manga goes all the way in tearing down this character, who has been a piece of human garbage for years at this point. I find it so satisfying to watch him get what he deserves, not only the death but the shame.

Light's own hubris and mental instability stole from him the honourable death he received in the anime. And that is everything I believe he needed, far more than the mere reality check he was given in the anime.

Phew, damn this was a ride and a half to write. I always appreciate feedback, if anyone wants to share their own thoughts on the ending. Please do feel free to do so, and I'll hopefully be back soon with your regularly scheduled shitty fanfics.

[ghostsofmemories]

Writing My Obituary (context on my weird poetry collection)

I realized today that I very casually bring up my poetry collection all the time and a large majority of my followers have no clue what I’m talking about, so here’s a WMO explanation post thing! I should definitely give a content warning though: this book deals with suicide, abuse (both physical and emotional, by both parents and other people), homophobia and transphobia, allusions to major appetite and stomach issues (which while reading sound a lot like eating disorders), toxic relationships, just a lot of really heavy emotions in general. Please don’t read the book or this post if those things could trigger you. This post also ended up super long, so the rest is under the cut.

So. first thing’s first, this collection is being published by Pure Print Publishing this fall (due to covid there aren’t any exact dates available). I didn’t query it, someone reached out to me after reading my poems on Instagram, hearing that they were in an unpublished collection, and basically connected me with their friend who runs the indie publishing house and is an author himself.

A big part of the reason this book is so difficult to talk about in context is because that requires getting pretty vulnerable - most of this book is just me dealing with everything I’ve struggled with over the last 4 years of my life. So if there’s discussion about the book in the replies, please keep it to the content of the book and not the validity of these experiences or details of things that happened to me.

The collection is about me and my journey from 13 to 17, starting with my suicide attempt at 13. There are several poems from around that time in my life, but they’ve changed a lot over the four years of editing. However, you can definitely still see changes in the way I write and the way I approach poetry by the end of the book - which was the goal. The book is centered around learning about identity, about how relationships should work, about friendships, about learning to handle mental and chronic illness, and above all, growing. There’s really no “breaking point” where everything about the way I write changes all at once, so in context, the change is almost difficult to see. So to sort of represent these changes, I’m putting a poem from the beginning, from the middle, and from the end all right next to each other (and some bonus analysis of my own poetry!).

Call me a monster is probably the most stark change from the past to the present. I almost never rhyme my poems anymore and if I do, they’re fleeting and mostly for rhythm. The lines are also extremely short, which I only do now when it really fits - in general, I make an effort to avoid consistently short lines. I like to tell myself that it’s symbolism I did on purpose to represent how all over the place my brain was, hopping from one thought to the next, but I don’t think it’s symbolism. I think my brain was really too jumbled to have more than five words in a line.

 I also took my own poems very seriously back then - writing a poem was an Occasion, so the first letter of each of those lines is capitalized like I’m some sort of English classics major. Both stanzas are also the same length (I still do that now sometimes, but back then it was in so many of my poems that I think I thought it was a requirement). Basically, I wrote this like I was going to turn it in somewhere.

Still pretty heavy on the capitalization here, but I definitely got more flexible with stanza length and slightly longer lines (7 whole words, yay!). This poem was somewhat of a turning point for me, basically realizing that I could not only vent through poetry, but still make it poetic and artistic in a lot of ways, and also explore contrast in my own emotions and conflicting feelings. For some reason, prior to this, I thought a poem could only be one emotion at a time, but now I think a poem can be one topic and the way multiple or conflicting emotions revolve around it. This is also one of the first poems I wrote that I was proud of from beginning to end.

This poem isn’t totally representative of the last couple changes I want to talk about (especially line length - for being relatively recent the lines are still pretty short), but I don’t want to use too many poems that haven’t been posted online before and this one has been posted and read aloud on an Instagram live, minus one stanza I added, which I’ll get to. I also wanted to choose this one because it has a direct reference to The Universe In You and several other poems, which gives me a chance to talk about how much I love referencing my other poetry in my poetry. Buckle up, this one might be long.

By this point, I had pretty much realized that there actually aren’t any rules at all. I’ve figured out what I want to say and I’ll say it however the hell I want to - I don’t need to capitalize things unless it suits the form, I don’t have to be totally consistent, I can repeat things as much as I want. I reached back into my 15 year old angst for this one, though, so I could more properly write about the relationship in a way that made sense. 

Now, I could honestly write a whole other book about how I reference other poems in each poem, but for now I’ll just break down the ones here.

Sort of a half reference right at the beginning: I have so much to say. I bring that up in different words in so many poems, both about my relationship and my dad. This is probably because, growing up as someone who had a speech impediment (meaning I talked too much no matter how little I said because of how long it took to say it), I always felt like I never had the space to say everything I wanted. It’s brought up in at least 3 other poems.

lost signals: a direct reference to my poem Thread Unavailable:

We’re riding down a dirt road in the middle of a conversation and lost signal. Message failed.

empty spaces: a reference to The Universe In You!! Pretty much the whole reason I included this poem.

burned poems: this one is basically just a reference to all the poems in the collection that are breakup poems, or poems where I directly addressed my ex saying don’t read this, you don’t have to read this, I shouldn’t have written this, etc. Specifically, A Long and Lonely Letter, Tired Eyed (The Homecoming Poem), and The Poem That Shouldn’t Exist.

another July come and gone and I didn’t write about you: this reference is hard to really understand the context of unless you know me in real life, but in two other poems I mention the month of July, in a couple others I reference summer, but there are dozens of poems that didn’t make it into my cut of the collection that talk about July. Basically, in context of the relationship, it was the only time we were actually happy and we split up and got back together over and over trying to replicate that fleeting, 30 day feeling that was overtaken by school, seasonal depression, and our own instability as people. For so long, all I could think about was that one month, and that line was my way of showing how I was done writing about it.

you told me, once, that we’re soulmates: this entire little stanza is directly copied from Tired Eyed (The Homecoming Poem). In order to continue talking about it I’ll throw a piece of that here:

If you want to come back, be sure of me. Be sure of yourself. I don’t want to be a consequence of your impulses.

You told me, once, that we’re soulmates. That once you find a person you want to spend forever with, it feels like nothing else matters. Do you believe that like I do?

That’s just a really short chunk of a really long poem, but basically the re-use of that section goes to say that me truly believing nothing else mattered was not good and extremely unhealthy. I put it there even though the poem was just fine without it because I really wanted to get that message across, especially since most of my target audience falls between middle and high school.

I know love in so many shades and I give it in every color: this references a couple different poems that aren’t in the collection, but in terms of the book, it’s a reference to Red, Like You, which is about color association and love and stuff? I I still don’t totally get it. I say in the poem that I don’t totally get it. No one totally gets it, but all in all I went from loving just one person in just one way to loving everyone in tons of different ways and realizing that those other types of love are just as, if not more, fulfilling to me, and that romance is not the be-all end-all of love and happiness.

All the other references are repetitions so I’ve pretty much already explained those. But anyway, that’s my book! It has 77 poems total, quite a few of them more than a page, and some that are probably several pages once in paperback format because, you know, I never shut up. Since I did my mini beta reading round (I got a lot of necessary feedback but that was so much to keep track of, I’ll probably just get a couple feedback partners next time), I’ve cut 34 poems and added 16 newer ones, edited the crap out of the whole book, and gotten the perspective of a professional editor.

 This book, even though there’s a lot of it I’ve grown out of, is super important to me and it’s so hard to let it go. Part of me wants to keep this book going forever and just keep growing until it has thousands of poems, but all of these “character arcs” in my life are finished. I left my toxic relationship and friendships, I figured out my gender and sexuality, I learned how to love openly, I cut off my dad for good. There’s obviously always more to learn about my relationships with these other people and myself, and I do that unconsciously every day. But in all honesty, I have nothing left to say about these people or events that would change the conclusions I’ve already come to - they would only further prove them to be true.

I absolutely always want to talk about this book, so if you have any questions, send an ask! Also feel free to scroll through the poetry tag on my blog and ask me about any poems I have posted there, there are a few that I’ve written since the completion of the collection that’ll (most likely) end up in whatever I write next. Basically, I’m obsessed with poetry and want to talk about it all the time. Please ask me about it.

[queenangst]

1/? I'd like your thoughts on something whenever you have time. I've read a lot of fics that delve into Bakugou's reaction to Aizawa's words during the press conference. Specifically about the part where the reporter said it was a possibility that Bakugou might be coerced into becoming a villain and Aizawa defended him by saying he was trying harder than anyone to become a top hero and he'd never become a villain. Anyway, basically across the board, all of the fics I've read about this

2/? have a soft Bakugou thanking Aizawa for believing in him and it's always portrayed as such a deep moment between the two. Don't get me wrong, I love this dynamic for sure. But I was thinking about it and why it's such a big deal for Bakugou to have Aizawa believe in him. Bakugou grew up with constant praise. He's been told his whole life that he was going to be an amazing hero. He never experienced otherwise, as far as we know. It shouldn't feel that special for Aizawa to believe in him.

3/3 Of course, I get that it holds a lot more weight coming from a pro hero and someone he respects, especially since it was such a public thing too, but idk. I just don't see it impacting Bakugou as heavily as it would impact say Midoriya or Shinsou or someone who has experienced nothing but opposition. Sorry for the long ask, this was just really bugging me and I'd really like to know what you think about it.

hi, nonnie! 

first of all, this is a great question, and i’m honored you chose me to ask it, haha. second of all, i wrote a fic that deals with this too (Coming Up For Air), and i think the fic reflects my opinion of where Bakugou is heading in canon and the answer i’m about to give for this. 

disclaimer: this post is my opinion and my interpretation of Bakugou’s character, and i’m just one person. this is not a post about Bakugou’s relationship with Midoriya, or what he “deserves,” rather simply a response to the question as best as i can give it in my eyes. some people will agree with me, but just as many people may disagree, and that’s okay. this is what i think.

A lot of this comes from interpretation, because Bakugou isn’t exactly someone who’s throwing around his feelings and saying what he means. Bakugou expresses himself through his actions a lot, so you really have to squint sometimes.

Bakugou, after entering UA early in the series (and even now) has been presented with the idea that while his skill and prowess is as much as he believes it to be, there are for the first time other people who are just as strong if not stronger than him. And he has to be strong. He can’t be weak or helpless, because that’s not how the world works. 

To Bakugou, he has to be strong; he has to be the winner. There’s no other option. And he has to be the best. And... he has to become the number one hero, because All Might exemplifies these values—heroes are strong, and All Might always wins. 

What about Bakugou’s fears, and how he sees himself? Bakugou, in canon, has been on a slow road in breaking down his entire worldview, in changing; he’s meeting people who challenge him in every way, and who make him face a part of himself he... really isn’t ready to acknowledge. He’s changing, and part of that change is the slow realization that he’s flawed (and this, I think is something he’s always aware of but tends to ignore, reinforced by people praising his strength) as well as his past behavior. The problem is he can’t acknowledge the idea that he might not be a good person, in the present tense. Then he’s not like All Might at all. Then he’s not better than anyone, and he might be closer to a villain than a hero (he’s not, but he may think so). 

Kamino shakes Bakugou to the core. You’re right in that Bakugou has been praised his entire life. But let’s look at the difference between what that is and what Aizawa is saying, and the contexts. 

Bakugou’s been praised for his Quirk, his strong conviction, his strength, etc, etc, in an environment and in a mentality where Quirks alone are enough to make a judgement about your worth. 

In the news conference, one of the reporters asks about Bakugou’s possible “mental instability” due to the Sports Festival and his “violent” reaction. What if, the reporter is asking, the villains try to use those qualities to their advantage, and make Bakugou a villain? 

Bakugou wants to be a hero. He needs it. He’s driven extremely to this point.

The reporter is asking a question that strikes at what I believe is one of Bakugou’s biggest fears. That he might be weak enough, that he might not be good enough, that his actions have led to a group of villains thinking Bakugou would join them. That the League thinks Bakugou has the potential to be a villain, that he could be persuaded. This means everything Bakugou thought about himself was wrong.

At the same time, the villains are telling Bakugou that their side is the “right” side. Bakugou loves winning. He has to win. The League pinpoints that, trying to manipulate Bakugou into the idea that becoming a villain is the winning side—they’ve all suffered under hero society, under being bound by rules. They chose to kidnap Bakugou out of all the students because they thought they could convince him to be a villain. “More than anyone.” His fear, though Bakugou knows he would never.

But Aizawa refutes this directly and completely. 

Aizawa, as Bakugou’s teacher. Aizawa, who is unafraid to expel a student if they don’t meet his standards, if he thinks they have no potential. Aizawa, who is the person who at this point knows Bakugou well enough, who is one of the people integral to shaping Bakugou’s future. Aizawa, who is candid; Aizawa, who believes.

Aizawa first takes responsibility for Bakugou’s actions as a failing on his part. He follows this by pointing to the same event that the reporter does and gives reason to it: Bakugou behaved that way because he has “strong convictions and ideals.” And, “more than anyone, he pursues the title of top hero with everything he’s got. If the villains have mistaken that for a weakness, then their thought process is indeed superficial.”

Bakugou isn’t a bad person. He has bad qualities. He is extremely flawed. And he’s done a lot of bad things. Aizawa isn’t saying that he hasn’t, but rather confirming and validating what in a sense Bakugou—who has been kidnapped by villains and just asked to join them—needs to hear: that he is worthy of becoming a hero, that he can become a hero, and that he would never under any terms become a villain. 

On a level, Bakugou’s own conviction would never let him believe otherwise. But it also means a lot to hear this from someone who is “close” to him—Aizawa, one of the few figures that Bakugou truly and genuinely respects, and who knows him. 

You can’t compare the impact on Bakugou to Midoriya or Shinsou, by your example. Each of those characters would be impacted differently, though not lesser; just because Bakugou presents confidence to the villains doesn’t mean that he isn’t scared, or that Kamino isn’t affecting him (more of his reaction is what we see post-Kamino, etc). And what Aizawa said was really, really powerful. 

This is my viewpoint, as a fic writer and a person who likes Bakugou. I’d encourage you to go back to canon and find more to add to your own interpretation and ideas, but thank you for trusting me. I hope I explained myself well!

[azapofinspiration]

Why Didn’t Garnet See This Coming?

So I’ve seen some people wondering about why Garnet, our favorite future peruser, didn’t see all of these struggles with Steven coming. Especially with how tactless she kinda was last week with not trying to warn him about proposing and just leaving the advice in her two lovesick components’ hands.

I think there’s several reasons.

First one being, Garnet, and Pearl and Amethyst too, don’t know Steven all that well anymore.

This has become more evident as SU Future continues, but it was most evident in Snow Day and Prickly Pair.

In Snow Day, the Gems push Steven into playing with them eventually, saying they wish to spend time with him because they’re proud of how far he’s come and who he is (which says something because Steven himself is struggling with who he is with a dwindling need for him). They have to push him a lot until really he sort of snaps at them.

Even before that, it seems like they don’t know much about him anymore despite them all presumably still living together. They don’t know he’s vegetarian, his other likes or dislikes, or when not to push him. Though Amethyst was right in saying that Steven did have a better work-life balance before, it’s clear that they don’t know how to more helpfully guide him to relaxing.

Garnet even says that she thought they were in a timeline where Steven still enjoyed pepperoni pizza.

How could she be so off?

As we know from Pool Hopping in the original show, Garnet’s ability to see the paths of the future depends largely on how well she knows a person. The better she knows someone, the better she can predict what their choices are. That’s why it generally worked best against gems who followed their preprogramed roles or corrupted gems that are driven by more basic, animal instincts. In that episode, Garnet admitted that she had been unable to predict things accurately for a while by that point because her perception of Steven was outdated. She still thought of him as he once was, not as who he was now.

Once more, her perception of Steven is outdated, so she can’t predict as accuately as usual.

Because it’s pretty clear that she didn’t see the whole Prickly Pair fiasco coming. None of the Gems did.

Which leads me to another reason why she didn’t see this coming.

Gems do not manifest trauma in the same way that humans do, and Steven’s trauma, though being conveyed in a very Gem-like manner, is rooted in very human ways.

Mainly because, with gems, no matter what the problem is, it tends to be very obvious.

Their very forms are reflections of their mental state and very being, so when something is wrong, it is shown. Like how the mental instability of the corrupted gems made them into monster-like creatures. Or how you could take one look at Malachite and see it was a toxic, unstable fusion. Or in Pink Pearl’s cracked eye.

Which is a very interesting example because it proves that gems really know squat about mental health.

Because everyone thought that her cracked eye was just another wound that could be healed. A vestige of a previous hurt. Except it can’t, because it’s not from anything physical. It’s a scar. It’s a mental scar specifically.

And if Pearl had never heard of such a thing, if the place where pearls were made had no clue how to deal with it and just wished to scrap Pink Pearl and start anew, then I’m betting no one else in the Gem world knows either. Whatever damage they incur, they usually just reform or recover and move on, no need to dwell on what has happened.

I mean, Steven was the one who came up with a way to heal corrupt gems. It never even occurred to the Diamonds to have a way to undo it in case they ever made a mistake.

And as we saw in Growing Pains, all of Steven’s damage has been hidden. Under the surface. His body has been broken and his mind scarred by trauma, but no one knew because everything seemed fine on the surface.

Greg didn’t even know, so the Gems certainly didn’t. They all take things incredibly too much at face value. That’s one of the reasons why they’ve always relied on Steven to see past that.

So not only does Garnet not only know about the current Steven in general to know how he would choose and react, she also does not know about his trauma

And finally, I have one more reason why Garnet may not have seen any of this happening.

When things were bad, Sapphire once made the mistake of looking into the future and seeing when things were fine, not even making an effort in the presence being no matter what, things would work out, right?

So I’m wondering if Garnet is not only looking at an inaccurate timeline because she is basing her future vision on an inaccurate version of Steven, but I think she may be looking a bit further ahead than is helpful.

Garnet said that the proposal was inevitable. But was she seeing a proposal between Steven and Connie now? Or was it further down the line? And even if nothing she could have said would’ve stopped it, couldn’t she at least have warned him that at this point he may get turned down since they’re still flipping teenagers???

She would’ve at least known that Sapphire and Ruby with their rose-colored glasses regarding their own romance and love would do nothing but encourage Steven and set him up to think it would be successful. Garnet could’ve at least helped him to be rational about it.

So anyway, I think there’s several reasons why Garnet didn’t see any of what’s been happening coming. She and the other Gems don’t know Steven as well anymore so her perceptions needed for future vision are off, Gems in general can’t really comprehend the trauma Steven’s suffered and how it manifests, and Garnet may be looking a bit too far into the future to see what needs to be done in the now to achieve it.

Now Garnet’s not doing any of this maliciously, she loves and cares for Steven, and she is doing her best, but that’s not actually helping Steven at the moment and she did kind of drop the ball with the whole proposal thing. She not alone in helping create this mess and she will not be solely responsible for helping everyone heal, but even the best intentions from the most loving and caring parents can mess up. And it’s probably to take all of them, including Garnet, to figure out the best way to help him heal from now on.

[hongism]

finding beauty in your darkest places - chapter 3

Pairing: TBA (ot7 x reader potentially in the future, unsure at the moment)

Genre: Psychiatric Clinic!au, Heavy Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 6947

Warnings: strong language; deals with mental and emotional illnesses and disorders as a heavy theme of the story, future graphic depictions of disorders - please do not read if this makes you uncomfortable

Rating: PG-13/Mature

Summary: Everyone has their issues, and everyone deals with them differently. Jungkook thinks that avoiding his problems is the best option out there.

aka

Jeon Jungkook is the newest patient at the Omelas Specialized Psychiatric Clinic, and he just wants to get in and out as quickly as possible so that he can go back to university and be with his friends again. Of course, that doesn't work out according to his plan.

a/n: i know jungkook doesn’t have a younger brother named hyungsik, but he does in this fic. remember it’s a work of fiction!! i’m taking lots of creative liberty with this

Chapter:

2 | 3 | 4

Finding Beauty in Your Darkest Places

Chapter 3: Cracking the Mask

Jungkook is moving as fast as he can without running, because the possibility of someone seeing him sprint past or worse, knocking someone over as he runs, is too present at the forefront of his mind. His notebook — the sole reason he went to his room in the first place — lies forgotten on his bed. He doesn’t need it anymore. Something else occupies his interest and attention, and he needs to remedy that before anything else. After seeing Hoseok, Jungkook feels dirty inside, as though he witnessed something meant for no one else’s eyes. He can’t shake the sensation no matter how hard he tries. At this point, there is only one option he has, and that is to seek out answers from the one person Jungkook trusts to ask.

So, for that reason, Jungkook bursts into the library with the expectation to find his target there, and it doesn’t deceive him, because there Namjoon sits. His thick framed glasses have made a return, and as he jerks his head to look at Jungkook, a few loose strands of hair fall over the frames.

“What happened?” He asks, eyes not leaving Jungkook’s. Jungkook must look a complete mess because there’s a thinly veiled look of panic in Namjoon’s expression.

Jungkook’s chest heaves as he struggles to catch his breath, only now aware of the anxiety attack that plagues his body. He tries to speak but his voice fails him, and he’s left making strange motions in the air. 

Namjoon shuts the book in his lap, and the snap of the pages resounds through the room. The sound flips a switch in Jungkook’s mind. He returns to reality a moment later, head still spinning and heart still racing.

“Ho-Hoseok,” Jungkook manages to stutter. “What’s wrong with him? I need answers, please. I need to know.” 

First, a sigh in response. Then, Namjoon doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, simply staring at the wall with pursed lips that accentuate the dimples in his cheeks. 

“This isn’t going to be the answer you want, but I’m going to remind you again that it isn’t your business to pry, Jungkook. I’m not doing this out of spite or to purposefully keep you in the dark. Simply put, I can’t share information about the conditions of the patients here.” Namjoon sets his book to the side. Jungkook watches the movement as he gnaws the inside of his cheek. But why not? What’s the big issue here?

“Fine,” he bites back, leaving Namjoon a bit shocked. “Then tell me what Yesung meant about Yoongi and Y/N.” He knows that he’s testing his luck, and Namjoon will most likely shut him down again, but Jungkook has too many questions to care. 

“Jungkook…you already know what I’m going to tell you.”

“You’ll say it’s not my business, but it is. It became my business when I witnessed the fight in the dining room. As a matter of fact, shouldn’t it be everybody’s business now?” Namjoon leans forward, hand finding his forehead, and he rubs the skin there while laughing weakly.

“You’re too damn smart and persistent. If you aren’t careful, you’ll do just fine as a troublemaker here.” Jungkook smiles to himself at the words. “Look, anything I tell you from this point on does not leave this room. You keep it to yourself. Don’t tell Taehyung, Y/N, nurses — no one. Got it?”

“Loud and clear.”

“When Hoseok came in, I was already a patient. At the time, I was assigned to be the person to help Hoseok get settled in and figure out how things work around the clinic. We were close early on because we’re the same age, so I used that as a common ground to get to know him better. I made a lot of effort to maintain that closeness with him, but as time passed we grew apart because Hoseok needed to be alone or away from other patients. It progressed quickly and in a bad way, to a point where no one would see Hoseok for days. Whenever we did see him…it was like a blank slate. All the effort and progress seemed to be erased. I can’t in good conscience tell you exactly what Hoseok is struggling with, but it’s nothing good. It’s not right to compare, especially here of all places, but I believe that his case is the worst out of everyone at the clinic. There isn’t much Omelas can do for him in all honesty.”

“Why is he here of all places then? There are other facilities and hospitals he could be at.”

Namjoon glances past Jungkook, eyeing the door then scanning the room. He motions for Jungkook to come a bit closer, and the younger does as asked, squatting beside Namjoon’s chair. “Again, this is between the two of us.”

“Of course.”

“I have a theory that Omelas keeps certain patients here to be an example to outsiders and potential patients. I think the Clinic operates in a way that wants to have patients coming back time and time again rather than actually helping over time. The way Omelas gains its good reputation is by having a state of the art facility and the best residential style clinic there is, but the staff themselves are no better than anyone else out there. There…we have — Omelas has a history with nurses and issues among staff, but they sweep it under the rug and act like nothing happens. If the public were to find out about those issues, Omelas would lose credibility and patients and money, which is the biggest concern for them.”

“I expected that much, to be honest,” Jungkook says.

“Do not argue with me, Mr. Jeon. I am making this decision because it is the best decision for you right now. I ask that you try the medication for at least one to three months before switching to something different again.”

“Just based on my meetings with the doctors so far. They changed one of my meds to something I’ve tried before, but I noticed that some of the other patients have that medication.”

“Saving money by ordering the same pills for multiple people,” Namjoon explains. “When the most important case needs a switch, other patients get the same switch as well. Omelas gets away with it too. It’s not like we have a voice to tell anyone, right?”

“Then…the issues with staff…is that why the nurses took so long to separate Y/N, Mingyu, and Yesung?”

“The nurses like to let things happen from time to time because it teaches the other patients a lesson. If Y/N and Mingyu get in a fight, the rest of us see the consequences. In unfortunate cases, people like Taehyung are affected negatively because of those “lessons”. Even Mingyu suffers from it because of his condition. It’s a domino effect for the Clinic. The first domino falls with a fight, then there’s a reaction, a lesson, and consequence. Because of the negative effects on certain patients, nurses have to take a few steps back with them and redo treatment. Then they’re extending the stay of the patients and making money all the while. They know they’ll never run out of situations like the one that happened today because of the radical instability between patients. Perfect system really.” Jungkook squints at the older man.

“How do you know so much about all the patients?”

“Research and experience.”

Experience from what? He said he’s never been to another facility. Omelas is the only one. Jungkook sits back on his heels, gaze finding the floor.

“We currently have two patients who have been here for almost six years now, but that’s the longest anyone has stayed.”

Six years would give you plenty of time for research and experience… Seeing people come and go so much, you’d really learn a lot, huh?

“Anyways, enough about that. Did you need anything else?” Namjoon asks. He tilts his head to the side slightly, and Jungkook blinks up at him.

“I’m still curious about what Yesung meant earlier. You know, the whole Y/N and Yoongi issue? It seemed like such a specific insult that there must be something behind it.” The warmth in Namjoon’s eyes drops, quickly turning cold, and he stands up before Jungkook can even blink.

“Quit asking, Jungkook.”

“I’m so-sorry, I was just c—”

“I don’t want to talk about them so you shouldn’t bother.”

“Talk about Yoongi and Y/N?”

“Drop it now before I have to say it again.” 

Jungkook’s jaw stutters a bit, moving along with his mouth but no sound comes out. He pushes himself to his feet and tries to ignore the shaky weakness pulsing through his legs. “S-Sorry,” he stammers at Namjoon’s back. “I’m sorry for bringing it up again. Sorry. I’ll, uh, I’m gonna go.” He can’t tell himself that he isn’t running away from his problems because he ditches Namjoon where he stands and bolts down the hallway. He could’ve waited to see Namjoon’s reaction, or tried to explain himself further, or even apologized a bit more. Although, as he makes his hasty retreat back in the direction of his room, Jungkook thinks that there was nothing else he could’ve said to Namjoon. The hostility in his tone and the sudden anger at Jungkook’s mention of Yoongi and Y/N came out of left field, but Jungkook was facing right. He hates that he’s leaving with more questions than answers. 

At the very least, he got a good amount of information from Namjoon before the conversation turned sour, and Jungkook plans to scribble it all down in his journal before he forgets it. He normally waits until the end of the day to put those thoughts to paper, saving it for when no one can interrupt him or intrude on his secret compilation of information about Omelas and the patients within it. It would be horrible and embarrassing if anyone saw those pages because Jungkook has notes about everything he knows about each person in the clinic, as well as general information about what he’s noticed between patients (such as the connection between Yoongi and Y/N that he still has no insight on). Now he can add Namjoon to that equation though, because the hostility came from somewhere, and Jungkook just needs to figure out where and how its linked to the others. 

Jungkook slows his pace as he walks through the hall of bedrooms just to look at Hoseok’s door.

“It’s not right to compare, especially here of all places, but I believe that his case is the worst out of everyone at the clinic. There isn’t much Omelas can do for him in all honesty.”

He makes another mental note to add that bit of information to his journal as well under Hoseok’s name, alongside the comment you made when Hoseok walked into the dining hall this morning. Those plans may have to wait for awhile though, because as soon as he steps into his bedroom, he is greeted by three faces instead of the zero he expected.

“Uh…” He freezes in the doorway, hand still resting on the handle, and blinks from face to face.

“I told you we should have done this in my room.” You speak first. You cross your arms over your chest and send a pointed glare towards Jimin, who stands beside Taehyung’s bed in a similar stance. Jimin responds with an equally heated glare, then rolls his eyes when you don’t relent.

“Should I come back later?” Jungkook offers, motioning over his shoulder. You drop your arms to your side and sigh. As you move, Jungkook notices the white bandages the encompass both hands, tucked neatly around your palms. You clench your fingers around the bandages when Jungkook’s stare lingers. “I can go,” he offers again. You shake your head then look towards the bed where Taehyung sits, knees tucked to his chest and arms hugging them closer. Taehyung doesn’t look in Jungkook’s direction, and Jungkook fights to swallow the lump in his throat. Still ignoring me…acting like I don’t even exist.

“It’s fine. We were just finishing up,” you explain and make a move to walk out the door. A strangled noise escapes Taehyung’s lips, and he jerks his head up when you start moving, leaving the rest of them to wait for him to say something. He never speaks though, and so Jimin pushes past you to snatch Jungkook by the arm and tug him into the hallway. He slides the door shut before anyone can say anything in protest.

“Just a few minutes, I promise,” Jimin explains when he releases Jungkook’s arm. Jungkook blinks at the shorter man, skin stinging where he grabbed him.

“Is something wrong?” he asks.

“No.” A sharp inhale, prolonged exhale, then — “Well, actually, I have a question. If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Go ahead!” As long as you don’t ask me anything personal, Jungkook adds to himself, biting down hard on his lower lip. Jimin scratches the back of his neck and blinks at the door for a few moments before continuing with his train of thought.

“Do you — do you think badly of Taehyung for what happened the first day you were here? Like, the whole thing with the nurses and that incident? Taehyung has been worried about it ever since it happened honestly. He brings it up all the time, and even though I try to reassure him, he still believes that you think he’s crazy. I mean, I know we’re at a mental health clinic, but — no one here is crazy. Not the way Taehyung thinks he is.” 

“Oh.” The sound leaves Jungkook’s mouth without him wanting it to, and he doesn’t mean to sound so shocked at the revelation from Jimin. Rather, he gets the same sensation he felt when he witnessed Taehyung’s breakdown on the first day. The feeling of looking in the mirror and seeing himself in Taehyung, seeing a reflection of who he is and what goes through his head every day. And the irony of it all is that as much as Taehyung has been avoiding him, Jungkook has been doing the same despite not wanting to admit it. 

“I—if you do, you know, hold it against him…could we not mention it to him? I don’t want this to make anything worse—”

“Wait, no! I don’t hold it against him, I promise! In all honesty, I-I thought the same thing. I was worried about him thinking I’m crazy and that I was being intrusive when that happened. I really don’t think badly of Taehyung in any way.”

“Ah, thank goodness! I knew Taehyung was overthinking it, but it’s so hard to get him to think straight again after something like that happens.”

“So, uh, then was that what you guys were discussing at breakfast?”

“You mean what caused the fight? Yea, we were talking about that before you got here as well. Taehyung is a bit upset with Y/N for making a big deal out of it. I don’t blame him but, well don’t tell Y/N I said this or else she’ll get salty about it, but she was right to start a fight with Mingyu and Yesung. I think one of them is the culprit too, so if she hadn’t confronted them, then I would’ve done it myself.”

“If it’s so important to Taehyung, why wouldn’t he want to make a big deal out of it?”

“It is important, yes, but Taehyung hates conflict. The last thing he wants is to be the cause of conflict, so he feels responsible for the fight this morning. Can’t convince him that it’s not no matter what though.” Jimin shakes his head, dirty blonde hair falling over his forehead. 

“Why is the bear so important anyways?” Jungkook inquires. Jimin doesn’t acknowledge the question, acting as though he didn’t hear what Jungkook said despite the fact that they were having an active conversation less than a minute ago. Jungkook blinks at the man’s profile for a few moments and waits for him to snap back to reality, but Jimin stays quiet. “Uh, why is the bear important?” He repeats a bit louder. Jimin looks at Jungkook with wide and clouded eyes.

“Oh, it helps keep Taehyung’s thoughts in order.” Jungkook nods slowly. 

“So what does Y/N have to do with it?”

“The bear was a gift from her.” Jimin says it as though the fact is common knowledge and Jungkook should already know this. Jungkook has more questions, wants to know why Y/N gave Taehyung the bear and how the bear helps keep his thoughts in order when it’s only a stuffed animal, but he doesn’t get the opportunity to ask. The door slides open all the sudden, startling both Jimin and Jungkook. You stand behind it, eyes on Jimin.

“Let’s talk, Park.” You brush past Jungkook, not sparing him a glance, and start walking down the hallway without waiting for Jimin to respond or follow.

“Ah, wait up!” He rolls his eyes as he calls after you, but you make no signs of slowing down. “I’ll see you later, Jungkook. Bye Tae! See you in a bit!” 

With that, Jungkook is left to the silence that is contained within his bedroom. Even though Jimin confirmed that Taehyung isn’t ignoring him, Jungkook cannot prevent the overwhelming sense of anxiety that rushes through his system now that he’s alone with Taehyung. He could turn and leave rather than facing Taehyung, but that would seem too suspicious. Also, he doesn’t want to risk hurting Taehyung’s feelings any more than he already has, albeit unintentionally. So, he pushes the anxiety down and steps into the room, quietly closing the door behind him and going to sit on his bed without looking in Taehyung’s direction. 

The bed squeaks as he sits on his mattress.

Taehyung hasn’t moved an inch from the position he was in when Jungkook first got to the room, and he doesn’t make any effort to move now. Neither of them speak, or look at each other either, even though Jungkook is facing him. He knows that he should be the one to make an effort and breach conversation, but he can’t think of what to say. 

The bed keeps creaking as Jungkook fidgets, moving his legs under him then dropping them off the side of the bed again and repeating the process five more times without any release from the discomfort. Then all the sudden it isn’t Jungkook’s bed that is creaking because Taehyung shifts and climbs out of bed, and Jungkook panics more than he already is, which shouldn’t even be possible at this rate.

“Are you feeling any better?” He blurts at Taehyung’s back. Taehyung hesitates, stopping in his tracks to glance over his shoulder. Jungkook regrets opening his mouth now. “I-I mean, I hope — I was hoping that you’re feeling better.”

“Do you think I’m strange or crazy?”

“Hmm? What? No, not at all!” Jungkook shakes his head as Taehyung sits back down on the edge of his bed, still making an effort to not look in Jungkook’s direction. “I…well, I thought you saw me as weird and strange and crazy. I thought you were ignoring because of that.” Taehyung tilts his head to the side.

“I never thought that actually. Really I’m just embarrassed about having an episode in front of you, and I feel bad that it had to happen on your first day.”

“I hope they’re able to find your bear,” Jungkook says. “If there’s anything I can do to help…” Taehyung’s chin finally turns in his direction, and his warm brown eyes meet Jungkook’s. He grins, lips forming a rectangle, and the skin around his eyes scrunches up. 

“Thanks, it means a lot. I trust that Y/N and Jimin can find it, but I need to tell myself that it won’t be the end of the world if they can’t find it. Oh, by the way, uh, do you know what I have?” Jungkook suffers a lapse of judgement in that moment, because he blinks at Taehyung with a blank expression and no clue as to what he’s talking about. Taehyung laughs then points to his head, tapping his temple while smiling. 

“A-Ah, sorry! I don’t know. It’s not really my place to ask though, is it?”

“I guess, yea. Y/N always tells me that when I ask somebody that. Personally, I don’t really like to talk about my problems, you know? I’d much rather act like nothing is wrong with me even though I know that there is. It’s easy to pretend nothing’s wrong sometimes. And avoiding people who witness my episodes and switches is a way for me to cope with the stress of it all. The bear…the bear helps a lot too. It made things better for awhile, but I think that recently things have gotten a bit worse. I mean, even before I lost the bear. When I first got here, it started out as Cyclothymia, but I’m not sure what it is anymore.” Cyclo—what? “Well, I need to leave for my afternoon appointment. Thanks for talking to me and humoring my rant.” 

Taehyung is up and out the door before Jungkook can react. That afternoon, while Taehyung is gone and he has the room to himself, Jungkook writes down every bit of information he can from the fight in the morning to the word ‘cyclothymia’ that he has barely any idea how to spell.

∞

“Mr. Jeon, you have some visitors in the reception area.” The nurse in the doorway interrupts Jungkook as he’s tugging a sweatshirt down over his white t-shirt.

“Huh?” He says in response, needing a confirmation on what he thinks he heard.

“You have two visitors waiting for you in the reception area.”

I do? Is it Sunday already? Jungkook follows the nurse out the door after tucking his journal back under the mattress. Taehyung left minutes ago for his morning appointment, and Jungkook was going to head over to the entertainment room to play the piano for a bit, but this must take precedence over that. 

The nurse doesn’t speak as he leads Jungkook to the reception area, leaving him in the dark about who might be visiting, although Jungkook has a vague idea about who it could be. His suspicions are confirmed the minute he steps through the white door with the small rectangular window that he hasn’t seen since his first day in the clinic.

“Oh, Jungkook!”

He wasn’t expecting to be hit by such a strong wave of emotions. It’s only been a week after all, but seeing his mom jump up from the stiff white chairs and lunge for him with arms open wide makes his eyes sting within an instant. She grabs hold of him as soon as he’s within arm’s reach, pulling him into a tight hug and running her fingers through his hair that he forgot to brush this morning. Hell, he would’ve made an effort to look more put together if he had known she was coming to visit. She didn’t come alone either, as Jungkook can see when he looks past her shoulder to spot his younger brother standing a few feet away, scratching his neck and staring at the floor as their mom smothers Jungkook. She pulls back for a moment only to press her hands on either side of his face. She scans his features over and over before the tears start flowing.

“How was your first week? Is everything going okay? How are you? Oh, goodness, Jungkook, my baby, I missed you so much already!”

“Mom, I’m fine. My first week was fine. It’s okay, you don’t need to worry so much. It’s only been a week!” He sighs as she keeps fussing over his hair and face but can’t keep the smile off his lips. “Hey, Hyungsik.” 

“Hey, hyung. You’re looking thinner.”

“Oh, are they not feeding you enough? You’re a growing boy, they should be feeding you lots! Do I need to talk to them?” 

“Everything is fine. I’m not losing weight, I’m being fed plenty, and if anything, it’s just the stress of the first week.”

“Stress? You said it was fine!”

“Just settling in! The stress of settling in, that’s what I mean.” Jungkook struggles to reassure his mom that things are alright. He nudges her back towards the chairs, falling into one himself.

“Has anyone been mean or harsh towards you? Making friends? Good roommate?” She continues to grill him with questions as she sits back down, hand finding his and holding it in a tight grip.

“Everything has been great. I’ve been making a few friends, and my roommate is great. You really don’t need to worry about anything, mom.”

“You’re my baby. Of course I have to worry!” Then why did you stick me in here? Jungkook knows he can’t ruin the moment with the question, so he forces his next smile.

“Hyungsik is your baby! He’s the younger one, after all. Besides, I’ll be out in no time and back home before you know it.”

“Usually, no one leaves in less than a year because of a willingness and a drive to continue treatment.”

Nurse Irene’s words haven’t left his mind, but Jungkook can’t imagine having to stay here for more than a year. He’ll say and do anything to get out in less time than that. His mom frowns at his hopeful statement. She doesn’t say anything to discourage him even though her thoughts are clear in Jungkook’s eyes. 

“Uh, where’s Dad?” He inquires, trying to shift the subject. “Why didn’t he come too?”

“It was work, honey.”

“He doesn’t work on Sundays though.”

“A business trip. He left on Friday.” Jungkook drops his gaze, lips snapping together. “I didn’t tell him we were planning to come! If he had known, I know he would’ve come along to see you.” No he wouldn’t have. He probably knew before Friday and just took the trip to have an excuse to not be here.

“I shouldn’t keep you guys too long,” Jungkook says. He pulls his hand out of his mother’s grip, wiping his palms against his sweatpants as he gets up.

“We’ve barely talked, honey!”

“I…I have an appointment soon,” he lies with a crooked smile. His mom’s frown deepens, but she doesn’t argue with him. Instead she gets up and envelops Jungkook with another warm hug.

“I promise that we’ll come back again soon, okay? I’ll bring Dad next time too.”

“Yea, that sounds good. I’ll try to visit when I’m able to start going out. Drop by from time to time or something.” Her hand cups his cheek again, bringing his gaze back to her somewhat bloodshot eyes from the earlier tears. 

“Remember to eat well, and get lots of sleep! Try to get as much fresh air as you can too. Don’t stay in your room all the time either. Talk to people and socialize, okay? I hope you’ll put on a little weight by the time I come back. Your brother’s right: you look a bit skinnier. Be honest with the doctors and nurses!”

“Okay, okay, Mom. I get it, yea? Eat, sleep, socialize, fresh air.”

“Good. Ugh, I already want to come back to see you and I haven’t even left! I’ll let you go so you can get to your appointment! I love you, honey.”

“I love you too, Mom. See you, Hyungsik.”

“Bye, hyung. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Jungkook turns around first. Heads for the door and joins the nurse who still stands in the threshold of the doorway. He steps through without looking back, because he knows that if he looks over his shoulder, the tears pricking the corners of his eyes may start to fall, and that’s the last thing he wants his mom and brother to see before they leave. He needs to be put together for them. He has to have his shit together so they think he’s fine. Because he is. Maybe it’ll make them realize that they shouldn’t have dumped him here and they’ll pull him out before he gets sucked deeper. The white door slams shut. The sound echoes through the hallway. The nurse at his side doesn’t stick around any longer, heading off without Jungkook and leaving him feeling even more alone. 

He can’t stave off the tremble in his hands as he walks, even as he presses them against his legs in attempts to control it. The walk to the entertainment room feels longer than it actually is. Thoughts running at a hundred miles per second, and Jungkook can’t pick out a single coherent one. His mind is a jumbled mess. He wants to feel relieved at the fact that no one is in the entertainment room, and he has the chance to be alone, but the loneliness seeps through his skin. It burrows into his system, hides itself in his feelings, and leaves a growing sense of dread to spread through every fiber of his being.

The ivory keys of the piano are cold when he presses his fingers against them. He doesn’t put much thought into the notes that reach the air as he plays, tapping away to a rhythm only he knows. And after a few minutes of that mindless playing, he starts to hum to himself, then turns the hums into words. It starts out simple and basic, but as he keeps playing, Jungkook feels the screws beginning to loosen. The walls are crumbling. He’s losing the minimal grip he has on reality and sanity. The moistness of tears touches his cheeks, and his hands stutter on the keys, hitting unnecessary flats and sharps. The jarring break of the music flips a switch in Jungkook.

Why did they come? Why? They didn’t need to, it’s only been a week. What did Mom think was going to happen? Does she think I’m some sort of loose cannon? Four institutions, failure after failure. Maybe she assumed I would be done for within the first week this time. God, Hyungsik must be embarrassed to have me as a brother. I’m supposed to be a role model to him. The older brother. The person he looks up to. I can’t even keep my mind straight for five seconds, let alone long enough to hold a conversation with him. Four clinics. Maybe I’m a hopeless case. They can’t fix me because I’m another level of crazy they can’t treat. 

He slumps on the bench, elbows slamming against the keys. A sob tears through his chest.

Shit, dammit, fuck. I can’t do it. I can’t recover this time. I won’t be able to. It won’t last, it never has. I won’t even be able to fake it well enough to get out of here. 

If anything, the first week has sent Jungkook further into a downward spiral, and he isn’t quite sure where he is going to land in the long run. Balling his fists, he increases the pressure until his nails dig into the skin and pinch there.

I thought I had a grip, a plan, an idea of what the hell I was doing here. Why is it already falling apart? Why is the world crumbling around me?

“Oh, sorry to interrupt!”

Shit. Jungkook covers his eyes even though whoever stands behind him can’t see the tears. He doesn’t move a muscle after that, gnawing on his tongue to gain control over his unsteady breathing.

“Ah, it’s you! Sorry, I can come back later. I know you like to have some time to yourself.”

“No, no, it’s okay! I was just finishing up.” His voice sounds hoarse and croaky. Any attempts or hopes to seem fine just went out the window with his shaky tone. And the newcomer picks up on it too.

“Are you alright? Did something happen?” Her voice is soft, a quiet tone filling the silence ringing in Jungkook’s ear, and he can’t handle it right now. It’s too much.

“Fine! I’m fine! Really, fine,” he insists. He tries to prove his point by standing up, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie, and faces the person behind him. He nearly doesn’t recognize her upon first glance, but he has no name to put to her face, only a vague memory of seeing her sit at a table alongside Mingyu and Yesung during meals.

“I-I’m Hyewon. I’m not sure we’ve officially met, but you’re Jungkook, right?”

“Yea, I am.” Jungkook eyes the door over her shoulder, ready to make his escape, but Hyewon keeps him rooted to the spot as she continues to speak.

“You don’t seem okay, even though you said you are. Is there — is there anything I can do to help you? I know the first week is super stressful, and it isn’t any easier trying to handle it on your own. Well, maybe, if something is bothering you—”

“I am perfectly okay. Thanks for asking though.” Jungkook brings his hands up to his chest. The pale haired girl frowns in response, pushing a clump of platinum hair over her shoulder as she tilts her head. “It’s fine.”

“Okay, well, if you ever need to talk or rant about anything…you can talk to me? It would be a little easier than talking to the nurses or doctors, at least I find it easier that way.” 

“It’s fine. I don’t need that.” Jungkook keeps shaking his head as he sidesteps around Hyewon. The words can barely leave his lips thanks to the constriction of his throat and the leaden sensation coating his tongue, but it’s enough to make his getaway. He’s out the door and running down the hall faster than Hyewon can react. 

Her interruption didn’t halt his breakdown, only paused it for a few precious minutes, and Jungkook knows the worst of it is yet to come. Now, the cold creeps into his fingers and toes, the wobble reaches his knees. The white of the walls and floors bleeds together into one mess of blinding color. He can’t see straight now, and the lack of a grasp on reality pushes his panic further forward. 

Tears again.

A sharp collision with the wall of white over his vision.

Cold tile under his hands.

I’m not gonna make it.

All the strength leaves his body in that moment. He can’t pick himself up off the floor, if that’s even where he is, because everything is sideways and askew in his mind; he may as well be laying on the wall with gravity tumbling him from surface to surface. 

He hears a strangled sob leave his lips, but he doesn’t feel it.

In fact, he doesn’t feel anything. Even the cold has ebbed away.

The tears don’t stop. Now that he’s lying on his side, they stay out of his vision and give him the opportunity to try to discern reality from hysteria. Head against a door maybe? Curled up on the tile floor? No, not right. Curled up in a fetal position on the door that acts as the floor in Jungkook’s mind. The sound of a door sliding open brings bile to Jungkook’s throat. He wants to hurl as the reality around him distorts further.

“Oh god.” The utterance may come from his mouth, but he isn’t sure. 

No, not me. Sound of shoes against the floor. Not me. He wants to hide his face. He still doesn’t have the strength to. Something makes contact with his shoulder. A dry heave follows, and all the moisture gathered in his mouth finds a new home on the floor — or the wall, he still isn’t quite sure of his surroundings. 

“Fucking hell, Jeon.” Your voice drifts in and out of his ears, tugging at the strings of reality. “Hey, someone could come at any minute. Let’s get you up.” You touch him again, a harder grip on his shoulder, and ball the fabric of his sweatshirt into your fist. Jungkook heaves again, and bile hits the floor now. “Kid, please.” The desperation in your voice gives Jungkook the slightest bit of incentive and strength, and he stands up with your help. The floor returns to normal, walls becoming walls again in his mind, and he sees the blur of your face out the corner of his eye. As soon as you start trying to walk, however, Jungkook feels the weakness return and stumbles. You tuck one arm across his back and under his armpit, the other still gripping his sweatshirt. You don’t say anything else, not commenting on the clamminess of Jungkook’s skin or the sweat balling in the pits of his sweatshirt.

It takes quite a bit of effort on your part to drag Jungkook to his room, but he feels like he’s flying at high speeds, still queasy from throwing up moments ago. Later (when Jungkook regains a grip on reality), he’ll be grateful that Taehyung isn’t in the room now, but that bit of information doesn’t process as you’re lowering Jungkook onto his bed. You heave a deep sigh, hopping onto the bed as well and slouching against his pillows. 

And then silence.

You don’t make an effort to speak, and he’s trying to pull himself together again. After a few minutes, you resituate and kick your legs out on the bed behind Jungkook’s back. He watches you with a careful gaze, eyeing the way you pick at the white bandages over your hands. Either you’re unaware of the stare or you choose to ignore it, because you continue your ministrations without pause. 

Jungkook can’t wrap his brain around what the hell just happened to him, and the quiet gives him no release from the confusion. You don’t have answers, he knows that, but right now, that’s all he needs. That’s never happened before. Not that bad. Not so…real and vivid. The only ti— 

You’re humming.

And it’s a song only Jungkook should know, because he made it up in the entertainment room a few days ago. Somehow it grounds him, brings a sense of control and ease back to his system that he so desperately needs.

“What are you doing?” He asks. You stop humming.

“To be honest, I’m debating a nap but I’m not quite sure yet.”

“What?”

“Well, as nice as a nap would be, I think I’d much rather ask questions about why you were on the floor in the hallway crying and puking. That’s…much more intriguing, don’t you think?” You cock your head to the side, and even though a smirk doesn’t play at your lips, you bear a playful gleam in your eyes. “Don’t worry so much, kid. Your heart can’t handle that much stress in one day. I just want to make sure you aren’t gonna break down or keel over.”

“Ho…How did you — you know I was out there?”

“I could hear you sobbing from the room I was in.”

Somewhere in the haze of lying on a door, Jungkook recalls the sound of a door sliding open, one that sounded close. But he barely made it into the hallway, definitely didn’t make it past the first set of rooms, so that means —

“Hoseok’s room. It was Hoseok’s room wasn’t it?”

“Whose room? Anyways, why were you having a breakdown?”

“I-I, uh, I — well, um…” He trails off. He couldn’t tell you that even if he wanted to, because he himself has no clue where the breakdown came from or what instigated it. 

“You see, Jungkook,” you say as you sit up, folding your legs under you, “I thought I made myself clear on the first day. Don’t pry into business that doesn’t involve you. It’s not something spiteful or any intention to keep a veil over your eyes. Rather, it keeps you out of trouble. Something like the fight yesterday wouldn’t be good for you. It also prevents you from being dragged into things you don’t want to know about.”

“I’m sorry,” he responds. The heat of embarrassment creeps up his neck and ears.

“Don’t apologize. Just don’t do it again, okay? I’m not here to poke and prod you like a doctor would. That’s really not any of my business, but I do want to make sure that you don’t look weak in front of people who could use it against you.”

“What, like you?” He bites back, a huff of forced laughter following the words. You grin like a cheshire. There’s no hint of playfulness or malice behind it; rather, it is simply a smile, and it’s the first genuine one Jungkook has seen cross your lips. 

“Alright, Jeon Jungkook. Let’s make a deal.”

“What kind of deal?” He squints at you.

“I will make certain that no one breathes a word about your breakdown today, whoever may have witnessed it. I’ll also make sure that no one finds out about it. It’ll be just between the two of us. How does that sound?”

The deal is tempting, yes, but Jungkook doesn’t know you well enough to trust whatever you might ask for in return. And yet…Hyewon saw Jungkook crumble. She sits with Mingyu and Yesung. If one of them were to find out, Jungkook doesn’t doubt that his life would quickly turn into a living hell.

“And in return?”

Your smile folds into a smirk, the coyness slipping in, and it sends a chill down his spine.

-

written by: jungtaeyoongles

please do not copy, repost, or otherwise steal this work

consider sending me a ko-fi!!

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

[sithroyal]

Kylo and Relationships

this headcanon was prompted by rpcDev’s challenge. word count: 2,926 (not including prompt questions/topics).

Level one

Handling relationships

     Kylo / Ben keeps most relationships at arm’s length. 

While working with the First Order, he is focused on his work and therefore isn’t terribly interested in becoming romantic with someone. In this case, it tends to be a ‘if it happens, it happens’ situation. He has a habit of tunnel visioning on his goals and often forgetting or overlooking a romantic partner around this time.

As Ben, he tends to keep most people away to protect them from him and his reputation. Ben is well aware that his past is turbulent and has led to him being unstable (both mentally and financially). He doesn’t wish that kind of instability on someone else. This doesn’t mean that he won’t be friends with another person but romantic relationships will be sparse and far between.

Reminder: He’s aware of what he’s done as Kylo Ren and he knows that he chose to do those things. Post-TROS Ben Solo is not deluded into thinking that he’s well loved simply because he finally went back to the light. 

Strongest familial relationship? Closest non-familial platonic relationship?

     Strongest family relationship is most definitely Han. As a child, Ben wasn’t able to sleep well until he was at least two years old and the only person who could get him to sleep was Han. He looked up to his father and wanted to be like him when he grew up. If anyone asked a young Ben Solo where he saw himself as an adult, he would have said that he’d have been a crew member on the Millennium Falcon. 

Non-familial would have to be Hux, oddly enough. Ren respects that Hux has no reason to lie to him about anything. Hux has no problem telling him when he’s done something fucking stupid and he’s not going to blow smoke up his ass just to do it. He’s well aware that Hux has a strong dislike for him and he prefers it. 

Tied with Hux is Rey. Someone who didn’t even know him, someone he tormented and hunted down like prey, did what she could to bring him back when he didn’t deserve her efforts. Even with the force bond, that’s left a hell of an impact on Ben. 

How do these bonds (or lack thereof) influence them? Do these relationships impact them negatively, or positively, in terms of forming or considering romantic relationships? 

     It’s a mixed bag. In many of his relationships, there’s been an element of betrayal, either to him or by himself. Broken trust can do a lot of things to mess a person up. A nice way to visualize it is that Ben’s trust is like a mirror that’s been hit multiple times, broken, and he’s tried to piece it back together but there are lost shards. 

There’s the chance that he’s never going to fully trust someone to the amount that they’ll want him to. This doesn’t mean that he won’t try though. Of course, that’s not counting Snoke’s influence and his struggles with the dark side. Ben’s responsible for his father’s death and the death of many countless others. 

Are they the type to dive in head first, or do they test the waters & take things slow?

     Slow. For the love of everything that’s holy, go slow with him. Ben has never had a romantic relationship before. He’s going to make mistakes and misunderstand how to do things. Not only that, but he has a lot of fucking trauma to deal with. 

Once again, just because he went back to the light doesn’t mean that he’s automatically perfect. Ben’s going to struggle like any other person when it comes to a new relationship. He’s been under Snoke’s thumb for around six years and there was pre-existing instability before that. Anxiety, depression, and for a short while, he believed he was hearing voices. There’s a lot of unhealthy thinking that’s going to need to be dealt with before he’ll be able to fully commit to a romantic relationship. 

This isn’t to say that one can’t happen but go slow with him. 

Level Two

What are some things that help them 'make the jump' from something platonic to considering something deeper with someone?  

     Being understanding and patient with him helps a fucking lot and he likes to make sure that his partner is taken care of, as Kylo or Ben. 

For Kylo, it’s knowing that he may never be a part of the light and understanding if he chooses to stay. Treating him the way that he feels he deserves is one of the biggest things. He hates himself as Kylo Ren but he also feels that he’s the superior version of himself. So if someone genuinely likes him while he’s Kylo Ren / in the First Order, that’s going to get his attention 100% and he’ll want something more eventually. 

For Ben, it’s going to be someone giving him the chance to learn who he is and how to handle being a normal person again. Someone that’s going to take a chance on him. He knows that he’s done horrific, scummy, abusive, terrible shit in his past, he’s never going to deny it, but if they let him grow and change naturally, that’s important. 

However, they have to also understand that just because they love him, doesn’t mean that he’s going to automatically be a good person. Ben is going to struggle for the rest of his life when it comes to the darker aspects of himself. He’s spent so long in the dark that his eyes need the chance to adjust. Yanking him out into the world and immediately having expectations is not going to help and it will make him back away and close himself off.

What kind of traits do they look for or find attractive? 

     Physical traits don’t matter much to him at all. He’d not going to pick someone based on their looks because that simply doesn’t interest him. What he looks for is in their heart and how they carry themselves. 

For both Kylo and Ben, it’s important to know that they’re driven, determined, and passionate. He wants someone that’s going to inspire him, whether to be lighter or darker doesn’t matter. Their heart, soul, and presence is part of what will get his attention before their looks. 

So don’t come at him thinking that an attractive muse is going to be bedding him any time soon.

Conversely, what kind of things disqualifies a person or throw up major red flags?

     Heavy sexual forwardness. Exhibiting behavior that he used to have while as Kylo Ren or that similar to Snoke. Talking down about others in front of him. Saying anything negative about his parents or anyone in his family (Ben Solo specific). Talking about marriage or having children with him, especially when he barely knows the person.

Is there something that kept them from being in a relationship until they found that special someone? If so, what makes them that someone distinctly unique?

     Well, given that he’s had two Sith Lords manipulating him from a young age, the First Order taking up much of his time, and having to work on becoming a more stable version of himself, Ben’s had a pretty difficult time. So he’s likely never actually looked for anyone in his life.

He doesn’t know if anyone’s ever going to be the one for him or if he’s ever going to truly deserve them (spoiler alert, he’s never going to believe he’s worthy). At this point in his life, he’s going to take whatever he can get and hope that he can be a better version of himself by the time he’s forty (or the worst, if we’re talking Kylo).

Level Three

What gestures imply trust, once that trust has been established? 

     If he falls asleep around them or in the same bed, he trusts them. Talking about his emotions, thoughts, and feelings are another. He’ll give his opinions far more often and take a high amount of interest in the other person’s personal safety. 

The highest level can be seen through whether or not he’s willing to be naked in general around them. If he’s willing to be that vulnerable, then they’ve reached peak trust with him.

What is their love language, & how does this manifest in their relationships? Specific examples are a plus. 

     Doing things. He prefers to do stuff for people. Whether it’s as simple as making food or cleaning something up and going so far as to beat someone half to death for them.

Protecting someone and willingly putting himself between them and an enemy speaks to a lot of love and trust for that person. 

It’s rare that he’ll ever do this in front of another but if he’s willing to cry in front of them, that’s huge. Making fun of him for showing more vulnerable emotions is a sure way for him to cut someone off entirely. That trust will be broken instantly.

Do they like pet names? Do they use pet names?

     Absolutely not. Calling him a pet name will not have the desired affect. While it may seem cutesy or even endearing, hearing them will do nothing more than put him on edge. The only person that ever gave him pet names was his mother and he reserves that right to her only until he trusts the person. 

As for using them, it’s limited. If he does, it’s once in a blue moon. As Kylo, good luck getting him to use them because that’s most likely not happening at all. As Ben, rarely. 

However, as he gets more comfortable, there’s a good chance he’ll start allowing pet names toward himself. At the same time, it also depends on what the pet name is and whether or not he’ll reject it. 

Level Four

What are some negative traits or coping mechanisms they deal with? 

     There’s a mountain of trust issues, anxiety, depression, paranoia, and many more things that’s going on for him. 

As Kylo, he copes through anger and, in many cases, he allows it to control him. He’s highly emotionally driven to the point that his decisions typically don’t make sense. Everything in him is pure chaos. He says things that are callous and cold, usually incredibly hurtful whether they’re intended or not and apologizing for it almost never happens. Many computers and other electronic equipment on the Finalizer have been victimized due to his violent outbursts, this isn’t including force choked employees. 

As Ben, he has a tendency to go for more addictive things. Since Han was the person who gave him his first drink, Ben does use alcohol to comfort himself to a degree. However, he does take notice of it and he tries to stop himself when he realizes it’s becoming a bad habit. Something bad happens? Time to drink. Fucked up and hurt someone? Time to drink. He has to stop that. 

He can’t just pick up a lightsaber and destroy a computer terminal anymore, he has to figure out how to function like a normal fucking human. To that end, he typically tries to rely on meditation techniques that Luke taught him. Getting his emotions out and handled in healthier ways is... difficult. He’s spent so long allowing them to take control for him that finding other solutions feels impossible - until it isn’t. 

How have their past experiences in relationships, or lack thereof, influenced this?

     He felt abandoned by his parents when he was sent to train with his uncle and then, he felt like his uncle had forgotten him when he picked up more padawans. Limited communication with his parents and strict training via Luke left him feeling restricted and burnt out - meaning he was more vulnerable to Snoke and Palpatine’s influence. 

Of course, not everything can be blamed on his family because he did choose to keep the communications with the dark side to himself. Had he spoken to Luke about it, there could have been something done to help him but it was put off until Luke had his vision. When Ben woke up to find Luke standing over him with an ignited saber, he felt threatened and panicked, brought his hut down on Luke and left. 

When he did, he killed many of the other Jedi either directly or indirectly. He burned the temple and ran to join Snoke.

So, taking all of that in mind, his past experiences have certainly put him in some strange areas. Mainly in the way that he’s making choices, terrible ones at that, but he’s also getting influenced into it by others. 

What type of person they are after a relationship ends? Do they stay friends, are they vengeful, are they the type of person that is happy for their ex when they move on or do they want to see their former lovers rot?

     This highly depends on how much he loved the person. If he wasn’t particularly close to them, Ben can part ways and be friendly afterward. If he was highly emotionally invested in them and they break up, he can’t just be friends because he’s still in love with them. Doesn’t matter who ends the relationship.

Kylo is vengeful. He’ll do whatever he feels is necessary to correct the perceived wrong. This includes trying to get the person fired or even killed on the battlefield. He may still love them but it’ll be hard for him to stop that need to hurt them as he’s hurting. 

Ben is much more reasonable when it comes to break ups. He’ll be civil, even so far as being friends, but he won’t be able to allow himself to consider it as anything but his own fault. Ben’ll be happy to see them move on, sure. This doesn’t mean that he’s not still a little bitter but who wants to deal with a guy with years worth of emotional baggage (more like whole storage facilities full of boxes he doesn’t want to unpack yet)?

Level Five

How do they communicate? 

     It’s a little bit of a crap shoot here. 

Kylo doesn’t quite communicate. He expects his partner to just know what it is he’s going on about or feeling. More than half the time, he’s incredibly tense without letting on that work or sith things are bothering him. It’s obvious but he won’t talk about it, he doesn’t want to. As far as he��s concerned, there’s no reason to talk about it. 

Of course this leads into other issues. Since he’s unable to be open with his person, it can create a lot of tension between them and open up avenues for more issues. He’s definitely not the dream guy.

Ben tries. He tries so fucking hard to communicate but he also has no idea what he’s feeling half the time so that’s a challenge in itself. He does better when it comes to text though. Ben can be in the same room with his S/O and be texting them about his anxiety, depression, what have you and get it across far better than if he were speaking. 

Sometimes thoughts and feelings are easier to convey through text so no one he’s involved with should be surprised that this is happening. He tends to ramble and over explain too. But his communication skills will get better as he gets older and gains more experience in the matter. 

Are they more the type to have open, honest, constructive communication, do they only communicate through fights, do they communicate through sex? 

     Kylo communicates through fights. He waits until things have absolutely blown completely out of proportion and suddenly there’s four molehills turned into a mountain range and no one knows exactly what’s going on. They just know that he’s mad, his S/O is mad, and whoever else in the vicinity is mad too. 

But, even if he’s angry and frothing at the mouth, he’s still being as honest as he can be, even if it’s vicious. If he’s had even one thought that week that was negative, it’s going to come out. If he’s thought about strangling one or both of them or running his saber through his S/O, he’s saying it. The whole argument is a fucking event. 

As Ben, he’ll try to address things as they happen so it doesn’t turn out like that but he does still have a tendency to hoard smaller issues. He tries to brush them off as though they don’t bother him but they’ll come up later on in an argument about something else. It may not be the same type of blow out but there’s a smaller scale. He’s not actively trying to hurt anyone and he’s willing to express that. It doesn’t make it healthy though. 

Level Six

What do they think of marriage? is it a goal to be worked toward, or something they shy away from? If they’re for it, have they spend significant time thinking about it? If they’re against it, are they open to alternatives or is long term commitment something they typically prefer to avoid?

     Marriage isn’t something that Kylo / Ben strives for. It’s something that he’s never bothered to think about more than a few seconds because it requires a lot more commitment than he believes is worth it. He’s aware that many marriages work well and some go off without any issues! However, he doesn’t think that he’s the type to enjoy it. 

Over all, he sees marriage as a ‘happy ending.’ After everything that he’s done to the galaxy, he doesn’t believe that he deserves one. Why should he have the right to be happy when so many others aren’t or can’t be? So he leaves that laying in the ground and tries to forget it. Why should he even bother getting any form of government involved if he decides to be with someone anyway? 

Even in that, he does see that his parents’ marriage failed. Ben blames himself for that and thinks that if he’d been able to keep from going to Snoke, his parents would have been fine. At the same time, he doesn’t know what else led to their decision on ending their marriage, for all he knows he could have been the final straw.

He also believes that marriage means that there’s a near mandatory need for children. Ben doesn’t have this urge. This doesn’t mean that he won’t be kind or gentle to children (Kylo’s another story) but he doesn’t think that having his own is for him. What kid would want to grow up and then learn their father was Kylo Ren, their great grandfather was Darth Vader, and the only Jedi in the family (aside from Leia) died because of their father. It’s not the kind of track record any future children need to deal with, in his opinion. He saw how it messed him up and he can’t imagine how it would hurt them. 

All in the same breath, he’s well aware that there’s the good as well. His mother was a Senator, princess, and acted in two rebellions. His father was a famous smuggler and a damn good pilot. His uncle a Jedi. His grandmother a queen and senator. But would any child ever deserve him as their father? Nope, at least not in his eyes. 

Ben is heavily reserved on marriage, to the point that he doesn’t know if he’d even entertain the topic as a piece of conversation.

[a-woman-apart]

It Never Goes Away

Crisis text line (U.S.): 741 741

I’ve had to fight really hard to push my way back up to “sane.” I dealt with psychosis, severe mania, debilitating depression and yearly hospitalizations before I finally decided to become medicine compliant. It took me 4 years before I began to fully comply with my treatment plan. I began attending groups under the guidance of a case worker. I began seeing my psychiatrist regularly so that I could make sure that I was on the proper medication. With my case worker’s help, I moved out of my parents’ home. I had to challenge myself to embrace the rules and structure provided by the group home manager.

Managing my mental illness, integrating into society, and becoming more independent were not choices that were easy. It wasn’t easy to work and go to school, to keep track of appointments and to try to manage a social life at the same time. These things are not easy for anyone in today’s climate, but they were compounded for me because of my mental illness. There was one year of community college when I slipped almost totally into dysthymia (low grade, chronic depression) and ended up bouncing from antidepressant to antidepressant in an attempt to cure it. These were ineffective; I am now antidepressant free and handling negative emotions better than before.

As I have said so many times before, there are people who do not understand my rigidity, adherence to structure, and perfectionism. Next to medicine compliance and proper sleeping habits, routine is a part of the essential trio of things that are crucial for me to maintain my mental health. Taking my medicine at roughly the same time every day helps me to enforce regular sleep and waking times. Going to work isn’t just important for my being able to pay for a car, utilities, and an apartment, but it gives me something to do so that I do not absolutely lose my mind. Scheduling study and leisure times and planning out events well in advance help to reduce my anxiety.

There are times, though, when being overly regimented can lead to lack of stimulation, boredom, and monotony. We all need a little spontaneity in our lives, at least a slight variation in routine, and the ability to tolerate change. Two recent changes in my life have forced me to embrace more flexibility in my life: working from home and starting a new relationship.

I work for a small company owned by a close friend of mine, and I need to check in with her every day before I clock in, because my schedule is variable. I am disciplined and self-motivated, but at first, I was very nervous because I am used to explicit direction on what to do, and instead I got a very loose managerial style and a higher degree of freedom to make my own decisions. My friend and I had a pre-established level of trust and so I think that went a long way.

As for my boyfriend, he and I have a lot in common, but we also have completely different operating procedures in some cases. He can go to the store without a list and then shop based on whatever meal he has in his head to craft and the store sales. On the flip side, I go with a pre-written list that is ordered based on where everything is in the store so that I can traverse it without any deviation or backtracking. He used to stay up all night and sleep half the day, and I had a strict midnight-to-morning sleep cycle (all-nighters put me at risk for mania). He deals with chronic understimulation and I get overstimulated extremely easily. Overall, everything is much looser and undefined for him; he’ll do things spontaneously, whereas I’ve declined invitations to go out with people strictly on the basis of the invitation being short notice.

Changing jobs and starting new relationships can be extremely stressful, but they can also be exciting and inspiring. Every week I now have something new to look forward to, and even after the feelings of novelty have worn off, I will still be forever grateful for making these changes. There is a lot of instability in our world, and I have discovered that having a sense of purpose and strong interpersonal relationships are key towards surviving in these changing times.  

I am learning a lot. As I alluded to earlier, anxiety has hampered me in that I need time to “psych up” before big social events, public speaking, concerts, or conventions. It is no secret that my anxiety has been rearing its ugly head more than it ever has before lately, but I am learning to deal with it one day at a time. Having undiagnosed, largely untreated GAD (Generalized Anxiety Disorder) in addition to a mood disorder is frequently hellacious. I have had a lot of close calls, but I have not given up hope.

I had been told by various doctors that there is no real cure for what I’ve got, and now I am starting to indeed believe that “It never goes away.” It can only be treated and managed. Proper management of illness—especially medicine compliance—can be the difference between life and death for those of us with these disorders. Even for those of us with severe symptoms, there are periods of euthymia—or “normal, tranquil mood”—that exist between our episodes. Feeling stable for a while does not mean that the illness is gone, but it can give people a false belief that they are cured. The discouragement that comes when the illness “returns” can be so devastating for some people that it drives them to self-destructive behavior.

The bottom line though, is that things change. Things can get better. It takes an amazing amount of work, and you may need a lot of help to make those first steps, but if you do, it can make all the difference. Don’t give up. I know the holidays are hard. To make matter worst, the current politic, environmental and socioeconomic conditions of our country are completely whack, but we have the opportunity to make meaningful change. The personal progress that we make as individuals has a ripple effect on the greater society around us. Even if we are unsuccessful in our efforts, it is certainly worth trying.

In fact, the idea that any of us—mentally ill or not—will arrive at some hypothetical form of perfection where improvement is no longer necessary is a fundamentally flawed concept. If we stop growing, we start dying. We must continue expanding mentally and emotionally in order to stay alive. Stagnation breeds decay. Life is less about the destination and more about the journey.

I know no one really reads these. These notes are as much for me as much as anyone else. I know that I am probably going to go through some objectively horrendous times sooner or later, and I am going to need to be reminded that I have a chronic mental illness, that while not curable, is subject to improving with treatment. I am going to need to be reminded that despite what the static noise in my head says, there are a lot of people who love me and still want me around. There are people who still want the best for me even when I cannot want it for myself.

It never goes away, but it doesn’t have to. I’m determined to fight.

[irondadgroupie]

Bohemian Rhapsody: Chapter 3

A/N: I can’t believe how cruel @intoresus and I were with Peter.

“Mr. Stark!”  

In the moment Dr. McKane said it, she knew she wouldn’t get a response. Being a medic meant she could differentiate monitor alarms in her sleep.

“He’s tachycardic, probably slipping straight into a PT.” This would be rarely more than the absolute worst-case-scenario for someone healthy, but with Stark’s previous heart conditions, he was at a higher risk, which meant they had to get the arrhythmia under control before it got out of hand.

“Get another round of beta-blocks and propofol and push it down immediately. Get him ready for cardioversion, quickly.”  

The situation developed in a squared multicode, hard even for someone with certified trauma knowledge. It was a relief to at least see that Parker’s condition begin improving. His pulse was still too slow, but at least began stabilizing to a certain pace. They had means to support his heart speeding up. Right now, the main priority was keeping Mr. Starks’ from doing exactly that.

“Sergeant Rhodes, I have to ask you to stand back.”  

“I was just-“ he couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence, but McKane saw it: He’d separated Tony’s hand from Peter’s, and rightfully so. They wouldn’t do the kid any good by accidentally cardioverting him, too. However, she wasn’t as cold-hearted as her professionalism made her appear. That small gesture of reaching out for Parker’s hand - like he was drowning and it was his only saving, like it was all that kept him from sinking. His condition worsening parallel to Peter’s improving gave that metaphor an immense emotional touch.

“How’s Parker looking?”

“Pulse’s steady at 49, adequate breath sounds on both sides, oxygen stat’s at a solid 97%.”  

She nodded, throwing a quick glance at the preparations done, eyeing especially the number of Tony Stark’s oxygen levels before turning back a final time.

“If you deem him stable enough for transport, get him up on a gurney and in the ambulance. Could you lend them your hand, Sergeant?”  

Rhodey hated the sound of the doctor’s voice. It wasn’t a question, it was barely a suggestion, it was halfway order. He understood why she gave it. The two paramedics taking care of Peter were suited and trained enough to get him in the ambulance themselves, so this was only about not having him close when they were working on Tony. James wanted to stay, but his rational side knew better. Besides, he shouldn’t risk Tony ever finding out that he’d left Peter out of sight for more than a second, not for Tony himself, not for anyone. Tony had reached for the kid to offer comfort, because he needed to know the kid - his kid - was alright, and realizing that he wasn’t might’ve broken him for good. No matter when Tony would come to senses again, he’d beat himself up for not helping enough, for not being there when Peter needed him, so someone else had to. That someone just happened to be Rhodey.

“Sure.”

“We’re prepped.”  

He tried to focus on the task at hand, listening to the orders given to him instead to those behind him.

“Set it to 100 joules.”  

The machine began whirring and McKane added, “Do yourself some good Mr. Stark and make this easy for us.”  

She checked that the area was clear, that no one was in touch with Tony’s skin before announcing that she’d deliver the shook.  

“Clear.”  

Rhodey squeezed his eyes shut for a second, trying not to concentrate on a motionless and incubated Peter in front of him, or the scenery that he knew had happened behind his back a second ago: Tony’s chest and arms, now freed from the tight blanket wrapped around him, twitching slightly, heaving just a few millimeters before coming to a sudden rest again. The result was audible: Nothing had changed. On the contrary. It was hard to tell and tormenting to think of, but Rhodey could swear the beeps of the monitor came even faster than before. Not that he could distinguish two beeps from another anymore, they just seemed to blur into each other.

“Alright, same setting, try again.”  

When the machines began to whir this time, Rhodey was up on his feet and at the side of Peter’s gurney, helping to move it forward. But his mind and ears were still back at the shore, still with Tony.  

You have to make it Tones. If not for yourself, or me, then do it for Pepper. And Peter.

“Clear.” McKane sighed but found herself relaxing a few seconds after the second shock. This time, the electricity jolting trough the man’s body did finally seem to help. The monitor alarms vanished,

“Good decision.” She remarked before turning for the paramedics. “We give him a few minutes, hope his pulse settles below 100, then get him ready, too.  

“How’s Parker looking?”

“49, still, and holding up. Oxygen stats looking good.” McKane smiled. For now, the most severe crises seemed to be overcome, and she hoped that would prove true, at least until they’d reach the compound, where they’d have more means to help care for both their patients.

“Get on the road, we’ll be following in just a minute.” A minute she’d spent making a final decision on how to judge her current patient’s condition. She didn’t like the instability in Mr. Starks vitals. Once his pulse calmed, the man’s oxygen stats began going wild. Physical stress was hard enough for a human body to deal with. The emotional pressure didn’t exactly help with that either.  

“Alright, not taking any risks here. I want him intubated before we get on the road.”

None of the assessing paramedics raised an eyebrow at her decision, they all agreed on it being necessary.  

Rhodey sat at Peter’s side in the ambulance, a hand on the kid’s shoulder, trying not to look into his face. It’d only be a horrible reminder that this usually hell of a healthy teenager wasn’t even able to properly breathe on his own. The conversations failed to bring his thoughts away from that.

“Parker’s getting increasingly non-responsive, pupils’ reactions sluggish.” One of the paramedics spoke into the communicator, the penlight still in his hand. They all knew what it meant without verbalizing it. Peter was drifting closer to a comatose state, without any of them being able to tell what exactly was causing it. But doing an MRI and a CT wasn’t possible in here.

“I’ve already arranged the transport. Helicopter’s waiting on us.” McKane’s voice sounded trough the speakers. Rhodey eyed Peter’s monitor, still showing several notifications, and although none of them were important enough to actually raise an alarm, it wasn’t hard to tell that his condition danced on the borderline between being manageable and dangerous. Besides, he could still hear the quick beeps of the other monitor at the end of the line.

“Is it wise?” He asked. “They are both very weak. Flying might prove to be too strenuous.” The paramedic’s facial expression gave no hints of a personal opinion away when he repeated it for the head medic.

“I know.” McKane said. “But it is our best bet. I am worried about Parker's concussion, regular hospitals don't have the resources to treat people like him.”  

Rhodey nodded, leaning back. He still wasn’t convinced that they weren’t putting unnecessary pressure on the two of them, but he hadn’t studied medicine for the better time of his life, so he wasn’t in a position to judge. He’d given his recommendation, the final choice was on McKane. All he could do was sit there and hope his presence gave at least Peter a little comfort.

Whether or not that proved to work was a question that remained unanswered. The kid‘s only movements were the regular heave of his chest, and those were a simple, unconscious reaction to the air forced into his lungs. But from experience, and from what Tony had told him (he talked about Peter a lot, basically like a parent documenting all minor developmental steps of their newborn child), he‘d learned that the kid needed a certain kind of physical affection to feel at ease. Which was hard to grant, given that he was wrapped in blankets and strapped on a gurney. All Rhodey could do in their current position was stroke the kids shoulder over three layers of blankets.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.” He said, his voice surprisingly toneless. It was reasonable, given that after you met Peter Parker, you couldn’t help but embosom him. This was nothing you second-guessed, nothing you could consciously prevent. Seeing him like this was just utterly wrong, and it suddenly dammed him that he would have to call the boy’s aunt to inform her about what happened.

And Pepper? Tony’s spouse was currently on a business trip at the other end of the country, with god-knows how many meetings for her to attend. There was no doubt Tony would want her to stay exactly there, not intending to let the worry for him stop her from doing what she loved to do. Rhodey would’ve probably even agreed to that, but that was before his friend had drifted that close to a stress-induced heart-attack. Tony wouldn’t be able to deny it, he’d need her at his side, helping him to regain physical and mental balance. Not to mention what would happen if Pepper found out only after her return. He could handle Tony’s anger, he’d been familiar with his temper for long enough. But Pepper? That woman was another story entirely, and he didn’t want to pick a quarrel with her.  

The first time Rhodey saw Tony again was when they loaded him onto the helicopter shortly after he’d helped getting Peter on there. The kid had scared them for an awfully long second, his heart skipping a few beats before returning to its initial pace. They took control of it with medications now, so Rhodey was free to have his heart sink into his stomach when he caught the first glance at his best friend.

“What-“

“It was a precaution.” McKane explained, easing his worries. “After all, the accident wasn’t exactly helping with his existing heart-condition. We took care of the stress-induced arrhythmia and got it under control, but I wanted to take a strain from his body until he’s gotten more stable.”  

She rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. “As far as things are looking by now, I’m confident that they can extubate Stark as soon as the surgery is over. This is really just a precaution and in favor of the physicians on the compound.” With those last words she nodded her agreement for the preparing of the take-off before strapping herself in and allowing the paramedics to fill her in on Peter’s condition.

Rhodey sat down quietly, trying to come to terms with all of what he’d witnessed in the past half an hour.

Maybe it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that it was a sudden wail of alarm that snatched him out of the process.

“Alright, who’s crashing?”

“Parker’s slid into VF.” One of the paramedics announced, his movements quick and precise like a sickly perfect reflex when he loosened the straps of the gurney to free the kid’s chest from the blankets. Two hands, fingers interlocked, went down on an already bruised breastbone. The alarms went silent, tiny waves on screen replaced by huge curves. “Starting compressions.”

McKane closed her eyes for a second, allowing herself a deep breath in. It was a simple trick, but usually, it helped. Set the world on half the pace for some time, allowing her to keep track of everything necessary. Going through the H’s and T’s was unnecessary, they already knew the kid had suffered a moderate hypothermia and deep inside she’d been prepared that it could happen. The pressure of both the flight and the cold, even though he’d warmed up a little already, was just too much to handle simultaneously. That she’d seen it coming didn’t change a thing about the weight of responsibility of saving a teenager’s life.

“Keep going, I’ll prep a mg of epinephrine. Sergeant? I need you to hand the defibrillator over.”

Rhodey had been paralyzed from shock ever since the alarm had rang in his ears, like an awfully violent reminder of where he was: A medical helicopter filled with just too many people, right in between his best friend and the man’s mentee, protégé, son by heart. A kid that was now dancing on the small rope between life and death.

“Breathe.” What was meant to be a comment to the paramedic in charge of providing Peter air with the ambubag, snatched Rhodey back into reality. He turned around, reaching for the red case behind him and handing it over to McKane, avoiding looking at Peter. It didn’t work for long, as if the kid was a magnet, as if a cruel god wanted to torture him by forcing him to watch. The teenager’s hand twitched in a rhythm with the administered compressions, his stomach heaving in response to the hands forced down on his chest, forcing an unwilling heart to pump. None of that happened voluntarily. None of it was an initiated movement. All of it was forced from outside, and it felt wrong. The reality used to be different. Used to be Tony having to tell the kid to take it easy, with patrol, with training... But Tony wasn’t in his right spot either. Not making the usual sarcastic comments, not making fun of the kid in a lecturing, though mostly loving and protective way.

“Epi’s in, hold compressions for a second.” The alarms immediately began wailing again, indicating that Peter’s heart still twitched instead of beating. “Still v-fib, keep going.”

The paramedic was quick to restart with his work, starting the circle of movements again. Press. Twitch. Bulge. Raising only one hand when McKane moved forward to get the pads attached to Peter’s chest. The other hand kept doing compressions, providing a starving brain with oxygenated blood.  

“Charging to 180 now, keep going.” The agreement came without words, just in the newfound intensity of compressions.

“Breathe.”

“We’re charged.” McKane remarked professionally. “Stay back.” A second passed.

“Clear. Come, on Parker, work with us.”

With the jolt of electricity,  Peter’s entire body twitched, shoulders slightly moving inwards, his chest heaving half a centimeter for a nanosecond before coming to a rest again, accompanied by the sickening alarm sound of the heart monitor. The spikes didn’t return on the screen, neither did the previous waves.

McKane - a woman that had never understood the concept of religions, found herself praying. Praying that the flicker of electricity Peter’s heart still offered hadn’t vanished entirely, that he still gave them something to work with.  

“There we go.” She couldn’t help but let out a relieved breath when the motionless line began heaving again. Still not in spikes, but at least not still. “Continue compressions.”  

Rhodey noticed, somewhere in the back of his mind, that the paramedics had changed places. No surprise, given that squeezing a vital organ between two bones that weren’t meant to be shift was taxing on the rescuer. All his rationality - all his distance - had vanished, and he watched and listened with almost a blank mind to what was going on around him. The cracking when a rib finally gave in under the weight crushed upon it. The whine following the hold of the compressions for the third pulse check.

McKane’s muttered urges.

“Come on, you made it this far. Don’t give up on us just yet.”

Peter didn’t give a verbal answer.

His body did, and the monitor translated. “Still VF, but amplitude’s going down. Administering another mg epinephrine, hoping it keeps him with us. Charging pads to 200.” By now, they almost worked in empty silence. There were no more agreements needed. Even the switch happened smoothly without talking, and when the second shock went through Peter’s body, they all just watched the reflexive movement of the kid’s chest, hoping.

“Still nothing. Charging again.”  

While McKane moved to have the unit charged, her colleague began hammering his hands into Pete’s chest again. “How far are we out?”

“Estimated time of arrival is two minutes from now.”  

The doctor ignored the response.

“Clear.”

The third shock was as successful as the previous ones.

Rhodey could think about nothing but the time. Two minutes out meant that Peter’s heart had refused to work properly around six minutes ago. He could barely stop himself from calculating what that meant.

Come on Peter. Don’t do this.  

“Wait.” McKane signed the performing emergency responder to hold compressions. The monitor seemed to scream again for even daring to stop, but the sound was different to the one before, and accompanied by slow but regular beeps coming from the background.

“That’s it. Almost.” All of the attending medics allowed themselves a short breather, appreciating the regular spikes on screen before focusing on the number. 36 BPM.

“Bradycardia. It’s undeniable now.” Strong, sharp, quick compressions were suddenly replaced by gentler, more timed ones, even before the decision came.

“Pass-time, we put him up for pacing before we loose that weak pulse again.” The required changes were done with a simple switch on the machine, and everyone just leaned back in anticipation. “Attempting capture at 55, let’s see how it goes.”

Peter’s fingers twitched again, and again, and that minimalistic body response to electricity became regular, the impulse giving the heart muscle the sign to contract.  

“Pulse captured. I’ll try turning up to 70.”

The impulses came quicker now, and for the first time in what had felt like forever, no alarm was interrupting the silence in the helicopter. Just some little click’s of the defibrillating unit when it fulfilled it’s purpose.

“Doc, we’re ready to land now.”

“Permission granted.”

It wouldn’t make sense to wait. Peter’s condition wouldn’t stabilize within the next minutes, not before he was properly warmed up and treated, and the only place granting that possibility was the facility.

McKane was just glad that Mr. Stark had held up the entire flight.

And maybe all of them were too relieved to see an actual pulse on both screens to realize that the blood pressure on Peter’s was slowly but steadily gravitating downwards.

The helicopter landed and the unloading of patients began when the rotators had yet to stop spinning. Airwaves were strong and made the people protect their eyes. Peter was taken off first, his fragile condition stating he needed immediate care on an even ground.

“Let’s get them inside!” McKane screamed at the team that accepted the gurneys and gently helped them from the helicopter so their bodies would not be jostled unnecessarily. Automatic doors opened and soon they were all in the safety and warmth of the compound.

“We have operating room ready for Stark,” A nurse said as she pushed off Tony’s blanket to get a good look at the hand. The swelling had gone up during the flight.  

“We need X-Rays for Stark’s hand and Peter’s ribs, he has been under two times now. Is MRI ready?” McKane walked fast in the narrow hallways.  

“Yes, we can take Parker there immediately,” The nurse pushing Peter’s gurney along looked at the woman.  

“Head-wound needs stitches,” a male nurse inspected the cut. “His healing is not working.”

“I would be shocked if the healing focused on tiny superficial imperfection rather than ensure his heart kept beating,” McKane dryly remarked as they came to crossroads. Left led to operating theatre and right to treatment rooms.

“Stark suffered from arrhythmia on the shore and has been tachycardic ever since. Mind that when you give him anesthesia.”

“He has good breath sounds,” a stethoscope was placed on Tony’s chest and Rhodey breathed out, at least some good news. Sure, they were both on their death beds but hey, at least his lungs were clean!

“Yes, intubation was just a precaution,” The man nodded. “Plane ride was a lot of stress from them both.”

“Parker drowned, has still some water in his lungs, we don’t know how long he was resuscitated after the crash or if his heart stopped, Stark has not been conscious enough for questioning.”

“What is Stark’s GCSE?”

“14. Parker’s was 9 before helicopter ride.”

“Seems about 6 now,” A nurse pinched Peter’s eyebrow to get a response to pain. “We need to rule out the possibility of brain bleed.”

“They’re also both hypothermic and need further warming up.”

A nurse arrived with two bags of warmed saline that were attached to Tony and Peter’s IVs.  

“I think we should just stick with liquids until the surgery and tests are over. Let’s hope cold prevented their brains and hearts from gaining long-lasting damages.”

Tony’s hand was X-rayed and the radiologist winced at the picture.

“Yep, completely shattered, bones are all over the place.”

“But that can be fixed, right?” Rhodey asked nervously, Tony was right handed.

“Sure, but that might leave some scars. We can’t really tell if there is nerve damage until he wakes up and he can start physiotherapy.

Peter had two broken ribs, most were dislocated, only few lowest ones were intact. They medical staff could do nothing more than set the bones (that were luckily not threatening to puncture a lung), bind Peter’s chest and hope the boy would not need further chest compressions.  

Then Peter and Tony parted ways. The man was wheeled to the operating theatre where he was attached to a ventilator and monitors. Now that the flight was over, his vitals were slowly starting to go up. Warm air and tranquility aided his condition and the surgery went by without complications.  

Peter was taken to a room where a large MRI machine stood. Rhodey followed him because if he didn’t and Tony found out, he would be dead meat. He watched from behind the glass as the boy was lifted from the hospital bed to a stretcher for testing.  

Awareness level of 6 did not sound good. He was not an expert but knew it was below the threshold of comatose state. His heart tried to offer optimistic possibilities: it was just caused by the cold, there was a treatable hemorrhage or too much pressure in the brain. Those were common causes that could be taken care of with medications, surgeries and rest.  

The monitor turned on and a doctor started to look through the images of Peter’s brain.

It turned out he had less time for that than he hoped.

“BP’s going down.” The radiologist remarked, scanning the images even quicker now. “There’s no brain bleed to cause it. Temperature is almost back fine. He’s bleeding somewhere else, we have to get him out of there.” Both the nurse and the radiologists left the room in a hurry, and yet again, Rhodey was left in no spot to assist.  

“Prep a unit of Midodrine. Having him go into a hypovolemic shock is the worst-case scenario now.”  

The seconds needed to have the machine release the stretcher felt like hours, but they immediately started working on the boy.

“Pupils are still sluggish and slightly dilated but neither is blown.”

“Midodrine’s in.” They began carefully palpating Peter’s entire body before the radiologist slowed to a halt.

“Abdomen’s stiff. Stomach must’ve been bleeding for a while. We have to get him to the OR, now. We’ll get the pMRI ready later.”

Peter was quickly lifted back on the bed, and was wheeled out under excruciating alarms of the vital monitor indicating that his blood pressure was falling even further.

Rhodey doubted it had taken longer than three minutes, but it felt like a gruesome eternity.

[aparticularbandit]

[1/2] Hey, do you mind if I ask you about some headcanons you might have for Luisa? I've been rewatching earlier JtV and started wondering about her marriage with Allison, though we don't see much of it. Do you think Luisa stayed with her to get over Rose, or that they really did love each other? Obviously Allison was a sore spot between Roisa, but it surprised me that Rose didn't know about their breakup, because it meant Luisa didn't tell Emilio either!

[2/2] In fact, we never see anyone comfort Luisa about her (assumed) divorce. I know a lot of this is because Luisa’s not a main character, but it made me wonder how close Allison was to the family, and (coupled with the flashback in ch 77) whether Rose ever even met her, since she apparently wasn’t invited to their wedding? It’s so weird that Allison basically never comes up again despite being a huge part of Luisa’s life for years. Anyway, just wondered if you have any thoughts!

i think allison is a particularly, ah, hard spot in terms of general headcanon, for me.  a lot of my thoughts on her have shifted depending on fic or thinking about it too much or writing the characters so long that stuff just changes. and headcanon really should find its roots in canon, so, when looking at allison, we should be looking at the two episodes where we see her and what we learn about her from those episodes (as well as what we hear about her from luisa in chapter fourteen).now, this gets long, so placing it beneath a read more.  and, again, apologies to those of you on mobile if that doesn’t work for you.

as far as canon facts about allison, we get this:

luisa was in a relationship with allison when she met rose.

rose wasn’t there when luisa and rose got married.

allison had an affair.

luisa guessed she was having one.

allison told luisa she was crazy like her mother.

allison tried to apologize the next morning.

allison and luisa did not live at the marbella.

after the divorce, luisa lives at the marbella (or at longbourne or at wherever she is this season) - she doesn’t live in their apartment/house/etc.

additional facts worth remembering:

emilio solano got married and divorced multiple times.

the show doesn’t tell us how many, but this is apparently a frequent occurrence.

petra and rafael’s marriage assumed that she would get nothing from rafael if they got divorced within five years.

rafael tells luisa to leave his marbella party to go home to be with her wife.

luisa was 34 days sober when she met rose.

we don’t see luisa wearing a wedding ring.

additional fun thoughts:

with the exception of rose and allison, luisa has a type.

juicy, susanna, and eileen are all blonde.

juicy and eileen both appear to be spiritual people on the same level that luisa is.

similar.

eileen may be a construct, but she fits the type that rafael would expect from luisa so this is still relevant.

juicy and susanna are both physically active.

juicy is a wrestler.  she’s ripped.  this is obvious.

susanna is a police investigator.  she has to be in shape.

she can also catch fish barehanded.  like yo that’s got to be some physical prowess right there.

and, like with eileen, susanna may be a construct, but she still fits a type and luisa didn’t know she was a construct.

so, all of this together can give us a fairly good idea of some things, assuming we extrapolate from there.

either luisa loved allison or allison fit into her type somewhere (or both).

i tend to think that allison was athletic.  i tend to think she’s a runner/jogger.  she’s fit.  so, in my head, she at least in part fits luisa’s type.

but she’s not blonde, so….

luisa and allison may have had an open relationship.

luisa seems to have no qualms having sex with rose multiple times while in a relationship with allison - and that’s just talking rose and luisa’s first meeting, that’s not including any other trysts throughout the five years between that meeting and the beginning of the series (and going off of luisa’s comments, it is likely there were other trysts, but that’s not part of your queestion).

luisa guessed that allison liked the other girl she was with.

i think luisa was more upset that allison was not open with her.

open relationships rely on trust; allison breaks that trust by 1) lying to luisa about it and 2) implying that luisa is crazy for considering this a thing.

luisa and allison may have had a rocky relationship.

luisa has a girlfriend.  she is 34 days sober.  why is she in a girl bar by herself when she first meets rose?

we can also guess that luisa is only four days out of rehab if we work with the assumption that a rehab would keep her the first thirty days.  not necessarily always true, but tends to be my headcanon.

it is possible that she was supposed to meet allison there, which leads to the following possibilities:

allison stood her up

allison ran into work issues that kept her from getting in touch with luisa

allison and luisa were having the first date post-rehab

which would mean that maybe they were dating before luisa went to rehab

maybe, if they were dating before luisa went to rehab, luisa was unsure of the nature of their relationship post-rehab.

maybe she caught allison with someone else when she got back (not likely, in my opinion)

maybe she wanted to see if she could still hit it off with someone even though she wasn’t drinking

luisa and allison may have had a really quick marriage shortly before the start of the series

if rose wasn’t at luisa’s wedding, then it’s likely emilio wasn’t there either

emilio would have been at luisa’s wedding if he’d had the opportunity

this implies that their marriage was likely both quick and unexpected

rafael told luisa to leave his party to go be with her wife

this is something people say to someone who is newly married

then again, it may be that he’s newly recovered from cancer and she’s been spending time with him instead of with her wife, but i don’t think that’s likely

the solano/alver family is super prepared for divorces but allison still got something out of her divorce from luisa

their residence

although it’s possible that it was allison’s from before they got married - but even so, it seems to me that allison got to keep pretty much everything they, as a couple, had together

allison made bank on that divorce

but not money, probably

if this had been better planned, luisa likely would have had an agreement with allison similar to the one rafael had with petra (which is likely the same one emilio has with his wives)

however, we can also use this to guess that allison and luisa have been married for five years, but given what we know from chapter fourteen and rose’s comment about luisa’s marriage, this is really unlikely

luisa loved allison

i don’t want to say it, but luisa loves easily

as with rose, allison (as we see her in chapter seventy-seven) seems to go against luisa’s type, which means there’s something more than that keeping her around

luisa doesn’t really talk about her mother or her own mental instability often

she talks about a lot of other things, but this seems to be something she keeps close to the chest

luisa told allison

more to the point, luisa seems to have downplayed allison’s comments that she was crazy like her mother, and we know that this phrase is especially problematic for luisa - although it may be that this is just as much as a reminder of allison’s words as it is an indicator of what she’s afraid to be - she does not display this phrase with rose or rafael, but she seems to have done so with allison, so

either allison has to be some level of super important

or luisa is used to allison making these kinds of remarks offhand - which leads back to the rocky relationship point

allison, to some degree, loved luisa

she was around for five years (if we assume they kept in touch throughout the five years between when luisa met rose and the beginning of the series)

either she cared about luisa or she was just after the money

allison doesn’t seem like a gold-digger to me, and since rafael’s struggle with cancer (as well as petra’s miscarriage - which luisa did blame herself for) are both during that time period, allison staying around for all of that (and luisa went back to rehab.  twice) is a pretty clear indicator to me that she did care - it’s important to recognize that, i think

allison was a rock in terms of her relationship with luisa

when luisa turns to rose, rose asks her why 1) she didn’t talk to rafael or 2) she didn’t talk to her wife

this implies that allison is equal to rafael in terms of her relationship with luisa.  she trusts them both equally.

rose comes after the two of them

luisa only turns to rose for things when she cannot turn to rafael or allison - that’s the implication here

now, i do want to go a little further in terms of - i think allison and luisa had a shotgun vegas style wedding and i think they were both drunk.  i think luisa turned to allison for something, and i think she was already drinking (or allison was less firm on the no alcohol at all front than we tend to believe rose is or, if we want to take this in conjunction with luisa still getting drunk when she was with rose, we can see this as luisa is just extraordinarily good at getting alcohol and getting herself drunk even when other people don’t want her to be drinking)–i think the marriage wasn’t intentional.  i think they woke up the next morning hungover and married and they did already love each other so they made the best with what they could.  (or luisa impromptu proposed and did the let’s just get married thing and they just got married with no notice because she didn’t want to deal with the lawyers she knew emilio would want her to get involved as far as prenups.  either of these work.)  i think this is likely why luisa doesn’t have a ring - and, like, it’s blatant that she’s not wearing a ring - in the scene with the party at the marbella where raf tells her to go be with her wife, her left hand is very clearly seen.  no ring.i think allison had met the family but that most of them were preoccupied with other things: emilio got married to rose; rafael got married to petra; petra had her miscarriage; rafael had cancer; rafael got the marbella - i think she was around but she was luisa’s person in a way that kept her…separate.  if that makes any sense.i do think she and rose met, because it’s hard for me to imagine that luisa and allison were together that long without them meeting once - but if we go direct quote, rose says she would like to meet her (in chapter seventy-seven), so this would imply that they probably haven’t met - which, i mean, this could be consider indicative of the strength of luisa and allison’s relationship (maybe its strength isn’t that good, since she hasn’t met rose) or it could just be indicative of rose avoiding meeting allison for as long as possible or luisa keeping allison away from rose for as long as possible (and of these, i think this latter is most likely).as far as comforting her on her divorce - it was a quick marriage and they likely didn’t expect it to last, even if luisa and allison had been together (or in even just in touch, as friends) for five years.  the solanos (and probably luisa, to some degree) don’t seem to put much stock in marriage lasting.  luisa was also basically ostracized from the family - rafael didn’t want anything to do with her (because jane), if the pilot script is anything to go by petra hates her (who knows why? and i don’t necessarily think this is the case - but they rarely have scenes together where petra’s not trying to manipulate her for whatever reason) and let’s be real petra’s having her own problems (getting her own divorce from rafael, the murder of her boyfriend, she’s being blackmailed, etc.) - emilio probably did comfort her to some degree - but given that rose seems to be the only one who understands everything that luisa is going through and noticing it (rafael’s nonchalant “oh, yeah, luisa’s probably on a bender because she hides when she drinks” as though rose wouldn’t know that - who in this family cares about luisa?  emilio does as much as he can, but his ways of helping don’t really work with luisa or rafael, which leaves rose.  and we know how rose comforted her.  like, the solano/alver’s history of emotional support is shitty at best, and whatever happened may have been off-screen if at all.possibly during the two weeks that we don’t see while we wait for jane’s artificial insemination to take root - there was a two week time jump there, even if luisa does still refer to allison as her wife immediately after that (so - not a super quick divorce, but there’s no reason to believe they dragged it on).  but i feel like that would have been the time most likely for family members to have comforted her, and since we did skip that time period, that may be why we don’t see it on-screen at all.  after that, everyone’s so caught up in everything going on that they wouldn’t have even thought of it (emilio, at least, makes sure that luisa knows she’s still included in the family and that he’s glad she isn’t drinking).–i think that covers what you wanted?  i hope?  maybe?  if not, feel free to ask for more.  ^^

[josephmxa]

Worldbuilding: Andromeda Part I

Andromeda

Summation: Welcome to Andromeda, a spiral galaxy much like the Milky Way. Not only home to about a trillion stars—twice as much as the Milky Way—and a planet to compliment each star, it’s home to the world of Shadow Comics, a grand superhero series that might be a bit more ambitious than I can handle. Through Greed, Wrath and Temperance comes the Andromeda Solar System modeled after the Milky Way’s primary solar system with the notable difference of Pluto being recognized as a planet rather than a dwarf. Aside from that, Andromeda has become a home to the ancient mythologies of Earth Prime, thanks to the demands of Lust, Chastity, Patience and Kindness.

For the millions of planets Andromeda houses is a home to a mythology, a tale, a belief, a philosophy, creations built by the many diverse and unique cultures of Earth Prime, now Earth M31. Andromeda is a wonder to behold. Many of these mythologies have home bases on Earth M31 as a way to monitor that world’s humanity out of simple curiosity. And much of humanity believe these home bases to be a simple myth much like Area 51.

History: The history of Earth M31 mirrors that of Earth Prime up until the first World War:

1914-1918 – The First World War

Tension had been brewing throughout Europe—most specifically in the troubled Balkan region of Southeast Europe—for years before World War I actually broke out. A number of alliances involving European Powers, the Ottoman Empire, Russia, and other parties had existed for years, but the political instability in the Balkans (particularly Bosnia, Serbia and Herzegovina) threatened to destroy these agreements. World War I began after the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand. During the conflict, Germany, Austria-Hungary, Bulgaria and the Ottoman Empire (Central Powers) fought against Great Britain, France, Russia, Italy, Romania, Japan and the United Provinces (the Allied Powers). Thanks to new military technologies and the horrors of trench warfare, World War I saw unprecedented levels of carnage and destruction. By the time the war was over and the allied powers claimed victory, more than sixteen million—soldiers and civilians alike—were dead.

 1920-1928 – The First Cold War

Following in the wake of the first World War nearly two years later causes a break in the economy, most notable in the United Provinces; the cause of social tension among the people. The Central Powers, most notable Germany, felt the wave of humiliation. This caused long-term talks within the German government about a super soldier program with its legitimacy being realized with the appointment of Adolf Hitler as Chancellor of Germany who then formed Nazi Germany.

 1932

A second World War was foreseen to take place with the wind of Germany invading Poland based on the increasing tension between the two countries. The super solider of Germany, natively referred to as Arischer Soldat, aka, Aryan Soldier, was only caught by the ears of the United Provinces through a native whistle-blower fed up with his country in hopes a plan is conceived to put a stop to the governmental forces that rule. Rather than answering the calls of the whistle-blower, who tragically lost his life in his home due to a heart attack, the United Provinces took it upon themselves to devise a contingency plan as a counteractive initiative—had the claims been true.

 1934-1945 – The Second World War

Hitler’s invasion of Poland in September 1934 drove Great Britain and France to declare war on Germany, as the two aforementioned had guaranteed military support to Poland in the likelihood Germany attacks. The principal belligerents over the coming years were the Axis Powers—Germany, Italy and Japan—and the Allied Powers—France, Great Britain, the United Provinces, the Soviet Union, and, to a lesser extent, China. Thousand of refugees began flooding the United Provinces, among other countries, causing overpopulation in most cities, in turn decreasing the supply of food as demand increases. This forced the UP government to form Kingdom Cove, a super territory up north of the provinces in place of what used to be called the Northwest Territories, Nunavut, and Yukon.

 1939-1942 – The Super Soldier Initiative

With the development of the Arisher Soldaten (Aryan Soldiers) between 1934-1939, the UP government sped up their own development of the super soldier program. What they had been doing prior is recruiting young men for the chance to fight for their country and save their family from economical hell. So far, their intentions had not been leaked and whenever a patient died due to the unforeseen circumstances of mutation, they disguised it as them being killed or missing in action. But because they sped up their development without finding true success, they experimented on the military itself, sending them off with mild success rates, only adding to the bloodiest war the world had experienced.

 1946 – Kingdom Cove

Based on the mild success rate of the super solider initiative in the United Provinces Military, despite claiming victory in the war, the government decided to take a step back and slow down development. They knew they no longer could recruit young, impressionable men due to the death rate and the depressive meltdown of society as a result of World War II. But in the likelihood of another attack such as Pearl Harbor or a third World War, the government could not afford the risk of killing their most expensive weapon. Not when it was made clear other countries took note of what both them and Germany were doing in the war when it was made public, ala Captain America of the Marvel World, Earth 616—the Marvelite Galaxy.

Assessing the population in Kingdom Cove, the ratio of refugees to nationals, the government made the calculated risk of experimenting on the citizens of the super territory. Because of the high refugee rate, they had a steady income of new patients had there been malfunctions and unforeseen circumstances with either old equipment or mental breakdowns of old patients. In order to keep their job under wraps while maintaining law and order in the United Provinces as a whole, the declared Kingdom Cove as an independent sovereign state, thus splitting the UP government in two. However, it’s still considered a territory of the country with dual citizenship for all residents. Any and all are welcome.

 1947-1954 – The Cold Blood War

Following the public announcement of the super solider program and the declaration of Kingdom Cove as a sovereign state, political tension grew in the streets of the United Provinces. What started as only the second cold war became the Cold Blood War when remnants of Nazi Germany overthrew the newly acted German government and invaded the United Provinces with what research and development they scavenged of the Arischer Soldat program—later revealed it wasn’t entirely destroyed like Germany once said it shall after the death of Adolf Hitler.

When the formerly defunct Axis Powers members joined, so did the Allied Powers and it was known publicly that other nations had their set of super soldiers. It became a war of the supernatural causing six straight years of winter in the UP until political instability destroyed the societies of the active nations resulting in the Covenant of Powers, a treaty forced to impose the defuncting of any type of super soldier program.

 1952

Public Figure Alexander “Lex” Light is born to University Professor Tatiana Christ and War Veteran Melvin Light, February 20th, 1952, in Metro City, New York. He’s the youngest of three; Calvin and Morris Light both served in the military following their father’s footsteps and tragically lost their lives at a military compound during experimentation—it’s reported, however, that they died in the battle of World War II.

 1955

Due to the number of rejects of Kingdom Cove—patients who survived the mutations but fallen victim to mental instability with no gained abilities—and the overpopulation of most known penitentiaries, Arkham City Prison is fixated on an abandoned city in Illinois that had been victim to the battles of the Cold Blood War. It worked in favour in the maintaining Kingdom Coves’ secrecy while dealing with increasing criminal activity. Electric fences were fixated around the perimeters to keep out unwanted press and civilians and keep in inmates.

 1969

Tatiana and Melvin take Lex (17) out in the East to the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia for a change of pace in their lives. Lex takes great interest in the theology of Islam, most notably the seventh and eight prophets of Allah—the Twin Prophets, Sahira and Alddijal, both believed to be oracles between Allah and the supernatural, what many see as life beyond reality, the fifth dimension. However, only a vocal minority practice the theory while the majority shun those who do as they truly believe Muhammed was the last prophet of Allah. That there is nothing beyond the four dimensions Allah created.

 1971

Lex begins a new life into adulthood (19) working behind the reception desk at Worldwide, the country’s most renowned news source in Metro City, New York. Following his trip in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, the journalist gene in him jumped out which is why he applied for a small position. His interest in Islam’s Twin Prophets, a taboo among the majority of Muslims, found him in the theology of other Abrahamic religions such as Judaism, Christianity, and Baha’i in relation to the Twin Prophets Sahira and Alddijal. To his fortune, they appear under those religions with different names. In most scriptures cites a practice in the summoning of either or both twin prophets through the infusion of your spirit and theirs—the act of vulnerability and speaking specific prayers.

When he challenges non-believers, questioning their faiths and even combating the mythology of their respective religions, he’s shamed by most and called a lot names, especially racial slurs.

 1972-1979

Lex gets accepted into York State University for a double major in Chemical and Electrical Engineering obtaining a bachelors degree (20-27). While Journalism has been at his heart, the constant concern for the wellbeing of others drove his passion—his adventures in KSA had gone two ways. Aside from Islam’s Twin Prophets, he’s seen a lot of pain, anguish and famish while others seemingly lost their ways both figuratively and literally. The slow rising death count had not lightened his grief.

In 1973, however, infamous siblings of Arkham City, Iris and Cyrus Connelly are born to Mya and Donovan Connelly, two residents of Kingdom Cove.

In 1975, in an effort to strengthen the minds of the people in order to better support each other, a select few members of the United Nations collectively agreed to revamp their education system, implanting the change other members of the United Nations have taken to subvert their English names back to their respective language—they either choose to shorten or lengthen it otherwise.

 1975 – Con’t

After a decade of Arkham City Prison’s establishment, due to paranoia and anxiety over the social stigma of said establishment, the government restructured the city as a residential area, moving all inmates to a newly constructed prison within the city—Ace 616, commonly referred to as Camp 616 by the inmates themselves. On the edges of the city, they created a small town called Frasier to house their secrets and contain their paranoia and anxiety.

 1976-1986

The now residential Arkham City undergoes ten years of torture through the likes of Mr. J and Baby Girl, mentally unstable criminals who escaped the confinements of Ace 616—they were once failed experiments of Kingdom Cove. However, it’s not definitive that they escaped due to the high level security the government placed on the compound and a majority of that generation believed they were released for whatever inane reason. 

 1980

Lex (28) uses the knowledge obtained and practiced at York State to help his city with a power outage during a two-week storm, around the time he interned at New York’s Power Plant. During his time with York Power Plant, he also configured ways to distribute and sustain energy as a fail safe plan in the likelihood of another unusual storm overstaying its time. Because of his journalist background, working a double at Worldwide, his heroic acts garnered a few new opportunities in his life, leaving his manic times of challenging non-believers behind. This was the same year he met his future wife, Monica Del Toro, who had a bachelors in Science and a Masters in Business--who became his business partner in what would be known as Light Corp across the nation.

 1981-1988

Lex (29-36) begins to build his vision, his dream, through the opportunities he’s gained from his work at the York Power Plant—influential people took great interest in him, political parties booked scheduled televised interviews and businessman had meetings with him on a monthly basis. With the help of his businesswoman girlfriend, Monica Del Toro, Light Corp, a chemical and electrical corporation, stops being a dream and becomes a reality. It’s first stop in Metro City, New York.

1985

Businessman Lucius Alexander Light is born on January 20th through the naivete of Lex and Monica—accidental pregnancy. Both being of faith, abortion was never on the table despite their busy lives and hectic schedules. Elsewhere, cameraman and reporter Clark Maisonette is then born on January 31st, in Riverside, British Columbia.

*Any and all information above is subject to change*

And here we have it! Andromeda! One of the more demanding worlds I need to flesh out. Not much to say really but the fact that I am cutting a few things from the history side of Earth M31, mostly because in my notes the timeline has a few more points regarding the individual stories and here, I just want you guys to see the more broader scope of Earth M31 of Andromeda. Just the backbones of what makes this world tick--that and there may be spoilers for said books that I’m not trying to really give away.

Tags: @merigreenleaf

(Tags are open. Feel free to comment.)

[biomedgrid]

Biomed Grid | A Parkinson’s Disease Journey from Patient side view

Abstract

There are a lot of research papers about Parkinson’s disease from the medical point of view, this research paper is from the heart’s patient side view, there are aspects of Parkinson’s that only those living with it truly understand. This paper is based on a treasure from a personal experience into a Parkinson’s disease journey of Gordon Johns. Each degenerative neurological disease patient are real heroes, that fight every day with the evolution of their symptoms that struggle their life 24/7. We, as Biomedical researchers on degenerative neurological disease believe that observing the evolution from the symptoms and emotions progressions, and how they are handling by patients will help: researchers, doctors, others patients, caregivers and all people with human kindness to understand this terrible progressive disease that still doesn’t have cure. Testimonies like this, will point a more human way to find and develop new treatments that will help to deal with the disease for a better quality of life of Parkinson’s patients and find a way to slow down or stop the disease progression or find a cure in the near future for it. I add my sections for: analysis of this case from a Biomedical researcher perspective, Parkinson’s disease general acknowledges and conclusions to find ways to deal with this cruel disease.

Keywords: Parkinson’s Disease; Tremors, Movement Disorders; Postural Instability; Parkinsonism; Idiopathic Parkinson’s; Atypical Parkinsonism; Multiple System Atrophy

My Journey into an Obscure Neurological Disorder by Gordon Johns*

“I have no technical background in these diseases - no clinical training of any kind - but I’ve been told that detailed accounts of patient experiences can be helpful to the professionals in their study of these terrible diseases. I hope something about my case will be helpful to them”

Gordon Johns died on April 26, 2019.

Special thanks to Helena Keeley for send me this testimony treasure.

Figure 1

Introduction (By: Gordons Johns, February 20,2019)

My name is Gordon Johns. I am 83 years old and retired. I’ve been happily married to my wife, Carole, for 19 yrs. In February of 2013, I consulted a neurologist because of slowly increasing body weakness, nocturnal leg cramps, and episodes of forgetfulness. After performing a few tests, he gave me a diagnosis of Parkinson’s Disease. That diagnosis came into question with my second neurologist, when my symptoms, which had not matched any of the classic symptoms of Parkinson’s Disease to begin with, diverged even further from those classic symptoms. From then until now (2019), I consulted three more neurologists. They performed many tests and tried many medicines, but none of them led to a solid diagnosis.

Last October, my current neurologist concluded that I have “Multiple System Atrophy,” or MSA. There are two kinds of that disease; both are terminal. My kind is “MSA of the Parkinson’s type,” or “MSA-P” for short.

I would have preferred a disease that had fewer words in its name. . . and one that wasn’t terminal. Some of my symptoms have been very unusual over these years, especially the ones that got better and get worse independently of my medicine.

I’ve always been interested in the subtleties of my own thoughts and feelings, and I wanted to share the strange experiences I was having. At first, I planned to write the blog only for our friends and relatives, but after giving a few sample pages to therapists, technicians, and doctors, I became persuaded to make my blog known to professionals as well.

I have no technical background in these diseases - no clinical training of any kind - but I’ve been told that detailed accounts of patient experiences can be helpful to the professionals in their study of these terrible diseases. I hope something about my case will be helpful to them. If you find something in this blog that seems useful to you in a clinical sense, make sure that it is consistent with current scientific knowledge.

Thirty Seconds of Dementia

One afternoon in August 2017, I was home alone, thinking about something or other, and at some point, I wanted to know the numerical difference between eight and five. I don’t remember now why I needed that—maybe it was eight o’clock then and I was checking to see how many hours had passed since I took some medicine at five o’clock. It stunned me that the difference between eight and five wasn’t immediately obvious! How could I not know it? I was frightened. I’d had episodes of memory loss that my neurologist said were attributable partly to my disease and partly to the normal aging processes in an 82-year old brain—but nothing had been as extreme as this!

I was determined to get the answer to this trivial problem. I closed my eyes and closed my hand to make a fist. I counted up from five to eight, extending one finger for each advance. I thought I had made three counts, but, oddly, I wasn’t sure. I looked down at my hand. Yes, three fingers—so the answer to my problem was three!

But now, what was the problem? My memory of it had vanished! All I could recall was that I had two single-digit numbers to start with, and I needed to subtract one from the other to get the answer to. . . some question I had wanted the answer to.

Now, what were those two numbers again? I had forgotten them too. In just seconds!

I realized that this succession of memory failures was very bizarre, and I thought it would be important to recall it later if I could. In passing, I noted that I was reasoning very well, but my memory was faulty. I decided to review, mentally, all I could recall happening, and I did that several times, in hope of burning it into my enfeebled memory.

While doing that, I suddenly remembered the numbers eight and five! Good! I found a piece of paper and wrote a note to my future self:

8 – 5 = 3 what is this about?

I found that piece of paper later, and it helped me remember enough to tell you the little story above-a tale about the time my malfunctioning brain solved a forgotten problem to produce a useless answer.

Notes:

I don’t exactly have “dementia” and I don’t exactly have “Parkinson’s Disease” either—although the latter was my initial diagnosis five years ago. My episodes of extreme forgetfulness and confusion were exactly that: episodes. After each one, my mind returned to its previous state. The word dementia refers to a condition that is constantly worsening. Dementia doesn’t go off and on.

There is another factor, however. Brain images over the years have shown increasing vascular disease consistent with my age. Whatever the contribution of this to my behavior, it is constant, not intermittent.

Regarding the title of this post, “Thirty Seconds of Dementia,” thirty seconds is just a wild guess. I can’t know how long that episode really lasted, because other thoughts could have occupied my consciousness, and then never called to mind after that.

Learning to Walk in a New Way

Four years ago, a year after I’d been diagnosed with Parkinson’s, something strange happened with my legs—something I’d never experienced before.

I was standing by the table in our kitchen nook, looking down at my array of medicines. I turned to walk to my recliner in the family room, about 15 steps away. But something went wrong. I stopped walking. I don’t mean I decided to stop walking; rather I found myself standing still.

It was weird and definitely scary. What could have stopped me? I glanced down at my legs and feet. I had felt no resistance. What the hell is going on?

Quickly then, I stumbled the rest of the way to the recliner and flopped into it. I took a deep breath and tried to relax, but my mind was racing. Oh, God! Am I having a stroke? Am I getting some kind of paralysis in my legs?

Then it occurred to me: This might be a new symptom of my Parkinson’s. I’d never had any bradykinesia (resistance to body movements, also called “stiffness”) but I needed to check it out. I was able to lift each leg up off the chair easily, so my hip joints were fine. With each one I also flexed all the other joints—knees, ankles, toes. No stiffness, no discomfort of any kind. Stiffness is one of the cardinal symptoms of Parkinson’s disease, but here: all good!

I wanted to talk to Carole, my wife, but she was away on an errand. I could call her, but I decided to wait. No need to frighten her now. I had to try walking again. Gathering my courage, I stood up, intending to retrace my path from the chair back to the nook table. I took slow steps. Along the way I heard birds chirping. Carole had a clock in her office that makes bird sounds. . . and then I stumbled!

I had been watching my feet while I was walking, but when the chirping sounds distracted my thoughts, my walking stopped. Apparently, I had to pay continuous attention to my walking in order to keep it going...whereas it had been automatic all my life. I turned around and made my way back to the recliner, watching my feet all the way.

After I calmed down, I reflected on the whole walking thing. I thought about how, when we were children learning to walk, we first had to learn to take a single step, probably while mommy’s hand held us up. After that, to execute one step after the other, we had to think about every step we took. Our conscious intention caused special signals to be sent to our brain, which would then direct our muscles to lift one leg and move it forward, and then put that leg down again. We had to will every step we took.

I’m no expert in this area, but I was willing to make a few suppositions. As we pre-toddlers practiced doing this, our brain was building a set of detailed “motor commands” (muscle commands) to direct the muscles of one leg to execute one step. As we moved along, holding onto a couch or table, our brain refined its motor commands to make taking a step easier and faster. As we got more practice in single-stepping, that set of commands in our child’s brain finally combined to make an automatic system that enabled us to walk without conscious effort, except for the simple intention to begin walking. Perhaps because of my Parkinson’s, the automatic walking commands that my brain developed when I was little, are damaged.

Now as adults our automatic walking system probably follows these steps: take a step with one foot, take a step with the other foot, and then repeat. It’s like those shampoo instructions, “Lather, Rinse, Repeat,” except that in my motor commands, the repeat step was missing or damaged. My brain will execute each forward step, but I had to trigger each “repeat” myself.

Days went by, and I discovered that I didn’t have to watch my feet with each step, but I had at least to think about each step. It’s like thinking, “left… right… left… right…” but you don’t have to think the actual words.

had read nothing about this kind of experience in my Parkinson’s disease books. I thought that maybe all PD patients with walking problems had a similar transitional experience. Later similar limitations occurred with my hand movements and fine motor movement of the fingers. I was sure that for the rest of my life I would need to “monitor” these everyday motions this way.

It’s not as burdensome as it may sound. Suppose that you and I are walking along, chatting about something that requires some light concentration. If my walking required, say, 10% of my conscious attention (I have no idea what the real number would be), then I would still have 90% of my attention to devote to our discussion. That’s not a major loss. I don’t think either you or I would notice it affecting my thoughts or remarks.

Afterwards, walking took less and less attention as the weeks slipped by. Now it’s mostly liked the old normal. Occasionally I have to pay attention, but I notice this only a few times a day. I must attend to some arm and hand movements too. Overall, the whole thing turned out to be inconsequential. And, of course, I wasn’t frightened of it anymore.

Standing Still Without Falling

Many months after I found that I couldn’t walk right, I acquired another disability—I couldn’t stand right either.

When we stand still, and if our hands or body aren’t in contact with something secure, our body will occasionally tip slightly, at random, forward or backward from the vertical. This is natural. Our brain detects the problem and flexes our feet at the ankles as needed to bring us upright. Normally we’re not aware of this process. It happens unconsciously.

I am going to take a break here to describe something interesting. If you already know what “proprioception” is, you can skip the next couple of paragraphs. If you would close your eyes right now, you would still know the spatial configuration of your body. For example, you’d know where your arms and legs are. How would you know? You might think it’s because you remember the last place you put them. But this isn’t how you know—you know because you have a sense of “proprioception.”

All moving parts of your body send signals to the brain with information about their position and their motion. These signals, augmented by equilibrium information from your ears, enable your brain to maintain a “proprioceptive model” of your body. In the case where your body is standing but starting to tilt away from the vertical, your brain’s proprioceptive model detects that. When this is detected in the model, your brain activates a motor control sequence (I’m guessing about that term) and sends the appropriate motor control signals to your legs and feet to bring you upright.

As we stand, we’re not aware that our body tips forward and backward a little bit at various times, and the problem is corrected automatically.

It’s a great feature.

But it no longer works for me.

The change came many months after I found I could no longer walk without attending to each step. Standing at my bathroom basin, I suddenly felt myself falling backward. A quick backward step stopped my fall. We are all familiar with that when it happens because of a sudden gust of wind or a slight contact with someone in a crowd. But I was worried about a serious fall.

I went to the kitchen floor for good contact, barefoot, and gripped a counter for stability, and experimented. Sitting for a while, standing again, standing while reading a book aloud, standing while thinking about this file, or trying to think of nothing. It was all the same. The slight imbalance of my body when it occurred was either using a broken motor control sequence or not using any at all. My balance mechanisms in my brain and ears tell me inform me that I’m tipping, so I correct that by pressing toes down or pressing heels down.

And from that day until now, this has been the only way I can stand without support. It’s not a serious drain on energy but the repeated interruptions of my conscious thought process are annoying.

For long-term activities like brushing teeth or shaving I find it helpful to lean forward with my stomach against the edge of the counter. This contact holds me up without any action at the ankles, but then I get a pain in my lower back. Why? Because those muscles are the ones holding my body in the slightly bent position needed to stay in contact with the counter.

My Hand Forgets How to Brush My Teeth

One morning I discovered that I couldn’t brush my teeth. I had put a blob of toothpaste on the brush and put the brush in my mouth. And nothing happened!

I wanted to begin brushing but it just wasn’t happening. I felt surprise and fear. There was another feeling that was uncomfortable, but I didn’t identify it until days later: it was a sense of helplessness.

So, I was standing at the bathroom mirror looking at myself holding the brush that was against my teeth but not brushing any teeth. I reasoned—guess what? — that the motor control sequence in my brain for brushing teeth was no longer functioning. My conscious mind had transmitted the order to “do the tooth-brushing thing” to my brain, but the appropriate series of motor commands to my arm and hand were not being transmitted-as they had been all my life. Those motor command sequences had been damaged or eliminated by my disease.

I did finish brushing my teeth, but I had to think about (again, to will) each separate movement of the brush. I noticed that the standard back-and-forth wiggle was just one thing I had to do. I also had to decide when to stop and transfer the brush to the inside of the teeth, and switch between left, center, and right, to ensure that I had brushed every surface. Plus, pushing the bristles against my teeth was a lot of work, per my all-body weakness.

Since that day I’ve been consciously responsible for every brushing motion of my toothbrush. I hoped my brain might relearn and create a new motor control sequence from all the repetitions. I think this is what happens when a veteran with brain damage, or a stroke victim, is able to relearn to walk. But it didn’t work with my tooth brushing.

I suspected that my disease might not enable this relearning because I had seen a similar failure before, in the kitchen. One day I found that Carole had rearranged the flatware in the kitchen drawer. The knives, forks, and all the rest had been in the same compartments, with each tool oriented the left-or-right, up-ordown same way for many years. On that day I realized that I was in the habit of yanking the door open and seizing the tool I wanted, by the handle, without looking.

Now I had to look down and govern my hand in the “seizing,” just as I had had to govern each step in my new way of walking. Carole offered to put the flatware back to its former arrangement for me, but I wanted to see if my brain would create some new motor controls. And it did, or something equivalent, because now I pretty much know where my hand is going when I reach for a utensil. My eyes don’t have to track my hand. I recovered from that particular “disability.”

But the brushing of my teeth remained as effortful as it was the very first time I did it myself. I wasn’t going to relearn that.

So, I bought an electric toothbrush.

Not Yet Parkinson’s (by: Gordon Johns Last blog story)

This short post goes way back to the summer of 2002. I consulted a neurologist with complaints of body weakness, leg cramps, and occasional forgetfulness and confusion. He ordered lab tests, and a brain MRI, and a nerve conduction study. He said that those were normal for a man 67 years old. Neuropsychological tests showed a slight memory impairment.

The reason I am telling you this is what the doctor said just as I was going out the door:

“Gordon, there’s nothing in your test results or in your symptoms that give even the least suggestion of Parkinson’s Disease. Nothing at all.”

I looked at him in puzzlement.

“Nevertheless, there’s something that I sense about you-as though it were a smell, but it’s not actually a smell”. He smiled briefly. “I think you’re going to be coming back to us in ten years with Parkinson’s Disease. Now I see the grin of pride.

I don’t remember any further discussion but driving home I was angry. This doctor had predicted something potentially devastating for my future health with no clinical evidence for it! And it was a disease that no one can prevent or prepare for!

How could this neurologist not know that a comment like this might infect the patient’s attitude or feelings toward his or her future death for a long time-say the next ten years? How many thousands of times might he or she have little twinges of fear when contemplating their future demise?

What if the patient had thought, mistakenly, that Parkinson’s disease is terminal? Or if the patient misremembered and thought the neurologist had said Huntington’s Disease, which is terminal? What if the patient was suffering from depression, and this remembered “bad news” contributed to a suicide?

Doctors know they have the power to hurt patients accidentally with their words, but the careless use of this power, to my mind, is unconscionable.

During that span of ten years, I didn’t have much reaction to what that neurologist said that day, but it irked me profoundly ten years later when I realized that this careless SOB had been right about me! I was pleased to learn that he was no longer practicing in my area.

“If you find something in this blog that seems useful to you in a clinical sense, make sure that it is consistent with current scientific knowledge”.

“If you find something in this blog that seems useful to you in a clinical sense, make sure that it is consistent with current scientific knowledge”.

About the Author: Gordon Johns

Education:

BS Physics, Florida State University, 1957.

Graduate studies, Advanced Nuclear Physics and Reactor design, 1957-58, Rensselaer

Polytechnic Institute.

Employment:

Associate Reactor Physics Designer, Knolls Atomic Power Laboratory, Schenectady, NY.

Aerospace Engineer, Leader, Scientific Software Group, Honeywell Aerospace, Orlando, FL.

Senior Software Engineer, Space Station Program, Link Flight Simulation, Houston, TX.

Member of the Technical Staff, Artificial Intelligence & Robotics Section, Space Data Systems Department, MITRE Corporation, Johnson Space Center, Houston, TX.

Publications and Honors:

“The FICS System,” United States Atomic Energy Commission, Naval Reactor Physics Handbook, Volume One, 1964.

“Dynamic Display of Electronic Crew Procedures for Space Station,” The Journal of Spacecraft and Rockets, Jan. 1989.

“The Steps Methodology,” Award of Excellence, state-wide winner, FL Technical Communication Competition, 1996.

National Physics Honor Society.

Co-Inventor, U. S. Patent 4,033,336, System for Sensing and Recording Medical Information, July 5, 1977.

Former member: Mensa, Intertel, Triple Nine Society.

Invited Speaker, American Institute of Aeronautics and Astronautics, Reno NV, 1988.

Analysis from a Biomedical Researcher Perspective (by Jorge Garza-Ulloa)

In every real story there are many opinions from different points of views, the real challenge for a degenerative neurological researches and professionals in this field is to: listen, collect and analyze the real facts to learn from them and increase the probability to find appropriate solution that will help in the life affected by this terrible degenerative neurology disease.

Parkinson’s Disease General Acknowledges (by Jorge Garza-Ulloa)

It is very import to remain that symptoms are different for each patient in intensity, duration and combination of them. Only your doctor trained in nervous system conditions (neurologist) can diagnose Parkinson’s disease. He will decide, if your symptoms are from Parkinson disease, specify Parkinson’s disease stage, and the Parkinson disease type. The diagnose will take time and it must be based facts on your medical history (lab tests results, MRI’s), review of your signs and symptoms, and a neurological and physical examination.

As a patient and caregiver, it is very important to have a general acknowledge of Parkinson’s disease: on frequently symptoms, disease stages and Parkinson’s disease types. These are explained in the next three sections:

Parkinson’s disease symptoms

The most main symptoms are of three kinds: primary motors (directly related to movement), secondary motors (consequence of movement disorders) and non-motors (no related to movement disorders) [1].

1. Motors (directly related to movement) as: Tremors in limbs, Rigidity (muscle stiffness), Bradykinesia (slowness of movements), and Postural instability (impaired balance or difficulty standing or walking.

2. Secondary motor (consequence of movement disorders) as: loss of facial expressions, temporary gait hesitation or dragging of the feet, unwanted accelerations when walking, speech difficulty or changes in speech, stooped posture, prolonged muscle contractions, impaired fine motor dexterity, poverty of movement, restless movements, difficulty swallowing, muscles may stay in a contracted position and cause pain, sexual dysfunction, muscle weakness, and others.

3. Non-motors (no related to movement disorders) as: fatigue, digestive issues, urinary problems, sleep problems, low blood pressure that occurs when rising to a standing position, increased sweating, increased drooling, pain, muscle rigidity, reduced sense of smell, mood changes, psychotic symptoms (hallucinations, paranoia, and agitation), cognitive changes including memory difficulties, slowed thinking, confusion, impaired visual-spatial skills (such as getting lost in familiar locations), dementia and others.

Parkinson’s disease stages

To understand the state of this disease, we have to know the Parkinson’s disease stages, these are typical patterns of progression in Parkinson’s disease that are defined in five stages [2], These are: 1) Mild symptoms (Do not interfere with daily activities), 2) Getting worse (Difficult and lengthy in daily activities), 3) Mid-stage (Impair in daily activities such as dressing and eating), 4) Severe and Limiting (Person needs help with activities of daily activities) and 5) Most advanced and debilitating stage (person requires a wheelchair or is bedridden. Around-the-clock nursing care is required for all activities). The main problem is that not everyone will experience all the symptoms of Parkinson’s, and if they do, they won’t necessarily experience them in quite the same order or at the same intensity, this is why the actual stage(s) and the evolution must be deducted only for the neurologist.

Parkinson’s disease types

Parkinsonism is a constellation of signs and symptoms that are characteristically observed in Parkinson’s disease (PD), but that are not necessarily due to PD. Parkinsonism is the primary type of hypokinetic movement disorder. Parkinsonism describe the collection of signs and symptoms found in Parkinson’s disease (PD).

Parkinson’s disease types, these are two general types [3]:

1. Idiopathic Parkinson’s (Tremor predominant disorder that involves shaking and trembling, affect about 85% of Parkinson’s patients), and

2. Atypical Parkinsonism (Instability and gait disorder that present more trouble with walking and balance, affect about 15% of Parkinson’s patients). Atypical parkinsonism is less common, it is an instability and gait disorder that present more trouble with walking and balance, these are rarer conditions and more difficult to treat. This type of Parkinson’s disease happens at an older age but tends to progress quickly. Although people may experience fewer tremors or no tremors at all, they have a higher risk of cognitive decline. Atypical parkinsonism includes the following variations: Multiple System Atrophy Progressive Supranuclear Palsy, Corticobasal Syndrome, Dementia with Lewy bodies, Drug-induced Parkinsonism, and Vascular Parkinsonism.

In this case, the patient was confirmed by his neurologist: Atypical Parkinsonism of subtype: Multiple System Atrophy (MSA), these types include several neurodegenerative disorders in which one or more systems in the body deteriorates as: incoordination (ataxia), dysfunction in the autonomic nervous system that automatically controls things such as blood pressure and bladder function. These are in addition to variable degrees of parkinsonism including symptoms such as slowness, stiffness and imbalance.

Conclusions (by Jorge Garza-Ulloa)

Parkinson’s disease (PD) is a progressive nervous system disorder that affect movement and present symptoms, that can be different for everyone and the exact cause of this damage is still unknown [1]. All medication and procedures available today only help to improve the quality of life of the patients. There is a big necessity to focus in more ways to accelerate the research for stop the evolution of Parkinson’s disease, and if it is possible find a way to slow down, stop or cure in a near future. Some ideal way on my opinion could be:

The creation of a cloud database with information and feedback from: patients, caregivers, researches, radiologists, doctors and other persons involved in the disease. With the goal to develop mathematical models using Artificial intelligence that allow analyze, classify, and forecast progression, that can be useful to measure and track the disease, allowing an evaluation on new medicines, new surgeries and new methods. These will help in the definition of new criteria’s involving multidiscipline research to analyze the disease form combined perspectives, and find ways for early detection, stop the disease progression and many other goals.

it is very Important to access more information of degenerative neurological disease, that could help to understand the diseases from the patient’s point of view. If you have more cases/ information about the evolution of Parkinson’s disease or any other neurologic disease in patients please send them to the email: HYPERLINK “mailto:jorge@ garzaulloa.org” jorge@garzaulloa.org.We will collect them, analyze, classify, publish and share all the information to everyone interested.

Read More About this Article: https://biomedgrid.com/fulltext/volume5/a-parkinsons-disease-journey-from-patient-side-view.000868.php

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