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apocalypticavolition · 1 year ago

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Let's (re)Read The Great Hunt! Chapter 8: The Dragon Reborn

This post and every other one I'll write is full of nothing but spoilers for the whole of The Wheel of Time series, so don't keep reading if that's a problem.

Once again I forgot about chapter icons. Last chapter was the wheel icon, which is probably because of the prophecy and the way it defines much of the shape of the rest of the age. This time we have the dragon's fang icon because Rand is the Dragon Reborn.

As they approached the women’s apartments, Lan suddenly snapped, “Cat Crosses the Courtyard!”

And this is why militaries have all those horrible drills, because it's actually a really good way of making stupid bullshit into reflexive routine. Lan gets to enjoy being one of the very few people in the world who get to order the Dragon Reborn around without consequence because he's doing it for Rand's good instead of whatever the hell it was Cadsuane was going for.

Were they looking for all of us, or just me? Why all of us?

They've been looking for all three of you this whole time, Rand. I get that you'd think things have changed now that one of you is the definitive Dragon Reborn, but that wasn't a guarantee. Shame Moiraine didn't spend the last month reminding you of that.

“What have you brought the Amyrlin Seat today, Lan Gaidin? A young lion? Better you don’t let any Greens see this one, or one of them will bond him before he can take a breath. Greens like to bond them young.”

Well that's not rapey at all and it certainly isn't foreshadowing. Sorry Elayne, but fuck the Greens.

The Aes Sedai shook her head. “The world grows stranger every day. I suppose the blacksmith will wear a crown and speak in High Chant. Wait here.”

And this also isn't foreshadowing, but not in my blatant lies kind of way, but in a "Somebody refused to finish the man's character arc" kind of way.

“Do you now, boy?” She sounded almost amused.

Siuan and I have very similar senses of humor I think.

Three Aes Sedai. How many does it take to gentle a man? They sent a dozen or more after Logain. Would Moiraine do that to me?

That's a good question, Rand. We know that any thirteen Aes Sedai in general could successfully shield you, but I'm not sure we know that they could gentle you on top of that if they were absolutely the weakest of the weak. The Tower only needed six specific Aes Sedai to keep Rand shielded, so presumably seven more of that caliber could finish the job if not fewer. But could Moiraine and Siuan, the Wondergirls of a previous generation, do the job with just Verin? Maybe right now while Rand's weak, but possibly not up against him in his fullest.

“Lan has been teaching all the boys, Mother,” Moiraine replied calmly. “He has spent a little more time with this one than the others because he carries a sword.”

Has Lan been teaching Mat and Perrin offscreen? I'm not convinced: Moiraine might well be counting the early drills in the last book. Let's her cover for the embarrassment of Lan fucking with their schemes.

“Tam al’Thor left the Two Rivers as a boy, Mother. He joined the army of Illian, and served in the Whitecloak War and the last two wars with Tear. In time he rose to be a blademaster and the Second Captain of the Companions. After the Aiel War, Tam al’Thor returned to the Two Rivers with a wife from Caemlyn and an infant boy. It would have saved much, had I known this earlier, but I know it now.”

Moiraine's only slightly exaggerating about Tam being a boy - the Whitecloak War was when he was 17! Like Rand, I do wonder how she got this information. Were her Eyes-and-Ears able to access some kind of public records in Illian for her? "Wife from Caemlyn" probably came directly from Nynaeve because it's not something that would be easy to learn otherwise in this sort of setting and because it's the kind of detail that covers for Rand.

“Against Tear.” The Amyrlin Seat frowned slightly.

Kinda funny that Siuan is so pissed at everyone for thinking she still has Blue loyalties when she still clearly likes her own homeland despite it hating her. She's mature enough to let it go though.

“Lan has been at you. Listen to me, boy. In a few hours, Ingtar will leave to find the stolen Horn. Your friend, Mat, will go with him. I expect that your other friend—Perrin?—will go, also. Do you wish to accompany them?”

And she is a good Amyrlin. She doesn't try to put Rand on a leash but talks about the thing that it makes the most sense for him to be interested in and encourages him to go do it even though it means being free range.

Or you can stay here. No doubt Lord Agelmar will let you remain as a guest as long as you wish. I will be leaving today, as well. Moiraine Sedai will accompany me, and so will Egwene and Nynaeve, so you will stay alone, if you stay. The choice is yours.

That said, she does try to put her thumb on the scales by emphasizing that Rand's gonna be on her own. But this kind of emotional manipulation is a lot more human and barely manipulative than putting someone in a box, so I don't hold it against her.

“How am I supposed to learn?” he demanded. Moiraine and Verin just sat there, unruffled, watching him. Like spiders. “How? Moiraine claims she can’t teach me anything, and I don’t know how to learn, or what. I don’t want to, anyway. I want to stop. Can’t you understand that? To stop!”

This is one of those things where I really don't think the show's changes are working in its favor. While it's fair enough to take umbrage to the whole "women forfeit, men conquer" dynamic of channeling, making them both share the same dynamic and making people able to teach those of the opposite gender means that Moiraine's not doing much with Rand gets even stupider on her front in hindsight. Book Moiraine legitimately cannot help Rand on this front and has no way of doing so; of her failings in between this book and the last, this is not among them.

“I have always thought that was a bad saying,” Verin said suddenly. “There are birds that dive and swim. And in the Sea of Storms are fish that fly, with long fins that stretch out as wide as your outstretched arms, and beaks like swords that can pierce. . . .” Her words trailed off and she became flustered. Moiraine and the Amyrlin Seat were staring at her without expression.

This is about as close to acknowledging the existence of non-Satan-caused trans people as the books get, but frankly I'll take it because we need it. I very much embrace the headcanon that trans people who seem to channel the wrong half of the Source have occasionally popped up and that they're among the secrets the Red Ajah keeps from the general Tower to avoid having their mandate reexamined.

But yeah, while I think Verin is usually playing up her distractability, I think this is a legitimately careless interruption on her part since they're talking about one of her hyperfixations.

The Amyrlin Seat looked him straight in the eye and said, “Because you are the Dragon Reborn.” The void rocked. The world rocked. Everything seemed to spin around him. He concentrated on nothing, and the emptiness returned, the world steadied. “No, Mother. I can channel, the Light help me, but I am not Raolin Darksbane, nor Guaire Amalasan, nor Yurian Stonebow. You can gentle me, or kill me, or let me go, but I will not be a tame false Dragon on a Tar Valon leash.”

Poor Rand. This was probably the most effective of Ba'allsy's manipulations last book and it at least is paying dividends. Even Verin is like "Damn!" and she almost never does that.

Moiraine made a sound, and he glanced at her. She claimed Thom was not dead, but she had never offered any proof, and he could not see how any man could survive grappling hand-to-hand with a Fade.

Impressive that the thing which almost brings Rand out of the void after the first big blow to it is Moriaine being all genre savvy.

We were soon to be raised to sisterhood, and that night we stood attendance on the then Amyrlin. Her Keeper of the Chronicles, Gitara Moroso, was there. Every other full sister in Tar Valon was out Healing as many wounded as she could find, even the Reds.

The Tower probably hasn't been emptied of sisters like that since Hawkwing's siege, when the sisters were probably often required to stand the walls. And before that probably not since the Trolloc Wars.

‘He is born again! I feel him! The Dragon takes his first breath on the slope of Dragonmount! He is coming! He is coming! Light help us! Light help the world! He lies in the snow and cries like the thunder! He burns like the sun!’

This is kind of a weird Foretelling in the grand scheme of things because it's really more of a... Telling. No future tense. Guess the Wheel was lagging a little because of the Aiel War.

For years we searched, finding other clues, poring over the Prophecies. ‘He will be of the ancient blood, and raised by the old blood.’ That was one; there were others. But there are many places where the old blood, descended from the Age of Legends, remains strong.

This is a weird little detail because... Well, the Aes Sedai seem to be interpreting it poorly. The ancient blood is the blood descended from the AoL; the Aiel are the only ethnic group that resemble any specific populace from the old days. The old blood is just that from the dawn of the age, but Manetheren is about two centuries separated from the end of the War of the Shadow and specifically formed as a distinct identity because the Mediterranean was turned into a mountain range.

If you believe that, you are as much a fool as the Domani. Many there believe he is dead, or say they do, but I notice they still won’t risk naming him.

Do we ever learn why the people of Arad Doman think that the Dark One is dead? It's one thing to not believe in Shadowspawn if you don't live on the Borderlands, but to think that the Dark One is just dead, dead? Where on Earth did THAT belief come from?

A part of Lan’s instructions came back to him. Left hand on the hilt, he twisted the sword behind him, catching the scabbard in his right, then bowed, arms straight. “By your leave, Mother, may I depart this place?”

Also, does Rand ever give Egwene this level of respect? Just wondering.

She stared at the spot where the bird had been. There is a storm, and there isn’t. It means something. But what?

It means your power is metaphorical! World's about to be broken in half a thousand ways. Considering everything else that has happened since you left home, it's surprising that you're not figuring that out, Nynaeve.

I don’t know, Nynaeve. He came out as fast as if he had Heartsbane himself at his heels. As well he might, coming here with a sword at his belt. The Dark One should be the least of his worries after that. What is the world coming to? And him presented to the Amyrlin in her chambers,

NGL, I don't think Siuan and Moiraine's plan to make sure all three ta'veren are seen is half as slick as they think, because Perrin's visit probably isn't going to involve his axe and Mat is unconscious. It's blatantly apparent which boy is the special one, especially for Elaida who they know is on Moiraine's trail.

Mavra will have to get back to her own village. No village can do without its Wisdom for long. Nynaeve cringed inside. She had been gone months from Emond’s Field.

Only two and a half! But it's nice of Jordan to start seeding the various archway problems she's having now, especially since this is the most immediate of them.

I ought to dose myself with rannel and sheepstongue root, she thought sourly. It was the mixture she gave anyone who moped about and claimed they were sick, or behaved like a goose. Rannel and sheepstongue root would perk you up a little, and did no harm, but mainly it tasted horrible, and the taste lasted all day. It was a perfect cure for acting the fool.

You overestimate me, Nynaeve! If it's an upper, I could get hooked to it no matter how miserable it tasted!

It took an effort to face him, but she was sure her features were calm when she looked up at him. “I’m looking for Rand.” She was not about to admit to avoiding him. “We said all we need to say long ago, you and I. I shamed myself—which I will not do again—and you told me to go away.”

I love all of Lan's deeply dysfunctional relationships. Poor Nynaeve. She has her pride at least.

He shrugged in an offhand way. “It is nothing. Old, and useless, now. But there are those who would know it when they saw it. Show that, and you will have guestright, and help if you need it, from any lord in the Borderlands. Show it to a Warder, and he will give aid, or carry a message to me. Send it to me, or a message marked with it, and I will come to you, without delay and without fail. This I swear.”

Lan: Crap, is it gay if I give Rand a pin? I know, I'll give Nynaeve jewelry and then it's still straight. Right?

Man was red in the face and studying his pipe intently cuz he was hoping he and his wife were about to get invites into Rand's little orgies, just saying.

“Not long enough to hear anything I should not have,” the Aes Sedai replied smoothly. “We will be leaving soon. I heard that. You must see to your packing.”

Moiraine: Anything Lan has to say at any time is something I should hear if I choose to. But also I guess you can keep your dignity.

“They are more than old enough to be off apron strings,” Moiraine said dryly. “And you know very well why you could never do that. For one of them, at least. Besides, it would mean leaving Egwene to go to Tar Valon alone. Or have you decided to forgo Tar Valon yourself? If your own use of the Power is not schooled, you will never be able to use it against me.”

Moiraine: Well, some of your dignity.

The two of them never getting to square off, even if just as a friendly exercise instead of Nynaeve's actual plan to totally kill her, is a missed opportunity.

“Nearly, Nynaeve. I am almost sorry to be going. I don’t suppose we’ll have many chances in Tar Valon to wear the nice dresses Amalisa gave us.” She gave an abrupt laugh. “Still, Wisdom, I won’t miss being able to bathe without looking over my shoulder the whole time.”

Yeah those dresses are basically already gone, aren't they? By the time Egwene could wear any of them again if she wanted, she's been away from Tar Valon for months.

“You are a woman, now.” Nynaeve glanced at her unbraided hair, and Egwene resisted the urge to hurriedly twist it into a semblance of a braid. Aes Sedai wore their hair any way they wanted, but wearing hers loose had become a symbol of starting on a new life. “You are a woman,” Nynaeve repeated firmly. “We are two women, a long way from Emond’s Field, and it will be longer still before we see home again. It will be better if you simply call me Nynaeve.”

Nynaeve really desperately wants to chide Egwene over her hair but is trying to give her respect. And she only doesn't want to be called Wisdom so she won't feel guilty about what she's done, though really she probably shouldn't have been forced into being the Wisdom so young in the first place. It's good that Nynaeve is getting a new life too, where she can make her own decisions instead of being bound to the expectations of a conservative community.

“Egwene, that young man of yours is trying to come into the women’s apartments.” She sounded scandalized. “And wearing a sword. Just because the Amyrlin let him enter that way. . . . Lord Rand should know better. He is causing an uproar. Egwene, you must speak to him.”

Jesus Rand, did you get drunk in the last three pages?

She had heard the talk in the women’s apartments about a suitable wife for Rand. At first it had caused stabs of jealousy, and anger. He had been all but promised to her since they were children. But she was going to be an Aes Sedai, and he was what he was. A man who could channel. She could marry him. And watch him go mad, watch him die. The only way to stop it would be to have him gentled. I can’t do that to him. I can’t!

What the Egwene haters here miss is that "at first" stating that Egwene no longer feels jealousy and anger about the whole affair because she's moved on in a healthy fashion. Well, semi-healthy, since her Accepted test will be entirely about her fixation on the probability of having to fail Rand in some way.

“I have to see her,” Rand said stubbornly. “We’re leaving soon. Not soon enough for me, but I still have to see Egwene. We will get the Horn of Valere and the dagger back, and that will be the end of it. The end of it. But I want to see her before I go.” Egwene frowned; he sounded odd.

Yeah, you know what, I am going with drunk. Boy ran to drown his stress and/or himself in a keg, got shit-faced at noon, and is now belligerent as all hell.

The women were still watching, Egwene realized. Watching her as well as Rand. Waiting to see what she would do. So I’m supposed to deal with him, am I? Yet she felt her heart going out to him. His hair needed brushing. His face showed anger, defiance, and weariness. “Walk with me,” she told him.

She's already great at Amyrlining, huh? She's definitely gonna deal with Rand's bad behavior here, but she's not going to make a spectacle of it just because Ran did, and she's not going to be overly harsh because she gets that's he's going through a lot.

“I suppose—I suppose I’ll never see you again. I know you have to go to Tar Valon. I know that. And you’ll become an Aes Sedai. I am done with Aes Sedai, Egwene. I won’t be a puppet for them, not for Moiraine, or any of them.”

You know, for all that Siuan's soft power game is really the preferred approach, it does absolutely suck balls that she inadvertently put the panic of losing Egwene and Nynaeve as friends into his mind. Like his behavior is not remotely her fault or anything (it's his) but it's pretty clear he's acting out like this because the sudden deadline looming freaked him the hell out.

“Listen to me, you great ox. I am going to be an Aes Sedai, and I’ll find a way to help you. I will.”

And despite Rand's whining, Egwene does repeatedly find ways to help Rand.

Tears blurred her vision as she threw her arms around him. “You take care of yourself,” she said fiercely into his chest. “If you don’t, I’ll—I’ll. . . .” She thought she heard him murmur, “I love you,” and then he was firmly unwrapping her arms, gently moving her away from him. He turned and strode away from her, almost running.

I'M NOT CRYING, YOU'RE CRYING.

I'm so happy that this isn't the end of their friendship because goddamn.

#let's read #wheel of time #wot #robert jordan #wheel of time spoilers #wot spoilers #rand al'thor #lan mandragoran #ingtar shinowa #kajin #leane sharif #moiraine damodred #verin mathwin #siuan sanche #nynaeve al'meara #egwene al'vere #agelmar jagad

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thevindicativevordan · 3 years ago

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On Livewire

You know Leslie is probably the most popular and well known female Superman Rogue mainly because they use her so heavily in outside media.

Which makes sense given her debut in Superman: The Animated Series, but it still kind of fascinates me. They didn't bring her into comics continuity until 2006 apparently, with Gail Simone and John Byrne (Byrne of all the creators!) being the ones to finally fold her in. Even after they brought her in, they still have never given her that much attention or focus which is a disappointment for me frankly, because Livewire is honestly fantastic in Scott McCloud and later Mark Millar's Superman Adventures runs, and I would say with complete sincerity that those two are probably her best writers. "Millar writing a female character well?" you scoff at in disbelief. I know, I was shocked too! But she's funny, clever, and a huge pain in the ass for Supes. Reading how she was used there, and rewatching her STAS incarnation recently, really made a big realization for the character hit me like a lightning bolt (couldn't resist):

She's basically an evil superpowered Lois Lane! I know I can't have been the first one to realize that, although I haven't seen anyone else actually outright state it anywhere, but c'mon it's so obvious! She's a reporter of a sorts as well thanks to being a disc jockey, her debut in STAS even has her interviewing Lois and Clark! She's got strong opinions on Superman that conflict with the general opinion about him (Lois being pro-Superman when everyone else is more hostile towards him at first, Livewire being anti-Superman when everyone else has embraced him as their hero). She's rude and abrasive, and doesn't care if her opinions offend people, which sure does remind me of Lois at her meanest.

Livewire to me is an examination of what Lois would be like if she abandoned her morals or never really had them in the first place. Leslie doesn't care about the "truth" which is the big difference between her and Lois. Lois can be headstrong, willful, and outright rude, but it's all in service of her pursuit of higher ideals. Livewire doesn't care about that, she carries about getting people to pay attention to her, and getting the recognition and wealth she believes she's owed.

What I'd Do With Livewire

It wasn't until I had that big realization about Leslie that I figured out what role she should play with regards to Clark: She should be Clark's old college ex who was the one who got him into journalism in the first place.

Clark's college years are unexplored territory narratively, typically we jump from his childhood in Smallville right into his debut in Metropolis. Now I know Clark dated Lori that mermaid back in Pre-Crisis during his college years, and while that's a fun bit of trivia, it doesn't really add anything meaningful in the same way that I think Leslie and Clark dating could. So I'd rather go with Leslie because I think she makes for a better foil for Clark and because the two of them would benefit from having a deeper connection established, plus Leslie could get fleshed out as a character more.

I like the explanation that Clark chose journalism in part because it challenges him in ways his powers can't, but in the comics they've rarely bothered to explain how he chose that field in the first place. I would have meeting Leslie at college be that big moment where he starts to figure himself out. She's assertive and confident, and Clark is attracted to that for similar reasons he's attracted to Lois. Leslie would start out as an optimist and idealist in the same way Clark is, and the two would bond and go into journalism together, with Leslie being the one who really believes in the field initially. They'd both be big believers in the duty of the press to inform and the presses ability to shape public opinion, with Clark attracted to investigative journalism and Leslie attracted more to broadcast and digital journalism. They start to date and for a moment, Clark seriously wonders if this is the one.

The big break between them comes when Clark and Leslie go on a trip around the world during their senior year of college. That trip would be where both of them learn how crappy the world is. Clark always had some idea of how bad things were because of his powers, but the trip is where he really starts to realize that there is a real need for someone of his powers to step up, and that there are hard limits to just how much he can accomplish as a member of the press. That same realization is what shatters Leslie's idealism and optimism. She loses faith in the ability to make a difference, to punch through the wall of public indifference, and as a result she gives up that dream. Instead she decides that if you can't beat them, join them: she switches instead to telling the masses what the powers that be want them to hear in exchange for money, to saying whatever the masses will give her attention and prestige for, embracing tabloid journalism that prioritizes clicks and engagement over information. Ultimately it destroys the relationship between Leslie and Clark with her viewing him as a sap and him viewing her as a sellout.

I think that origin really would help flesh out her worldview and motivation a lot more. She's a former idealist who has been broken by the world in a similar way to Poison Ivy. Leslie thus acts as a foil to Clark and Lois in that she's someone who let the world rob her of her idealism and sold out on the truth in exchange for material success. She's what Clark or Lois could've been if they took Lex's offer to work for him, and they should recognize that to some degree. Clark should have conflicting feelings for her, not romantically that relationship is dead, but in terms of sometimes he wonders if he's just wasting his life trying to fight for truth and justice. So few people seem to care about those principles, why hold on so tight to them? Why not just look out for his own self-interest the way everyone else seems to? It's the refusal to give up even when it looks pointless that makes the two of them different, and makes Clark a hero and Livewire a villain.

How I'd Like Livewire To Operate

There's a lack of imagination in how Livewire is used on the comic side as I see it.

Like most Superman Rogues the typical Superman writer doesn't seem to have a clue what to do with her beyond generic "villain" stuff, but that does a disservice to what Livewire brings to the table. Livewire does want to fry Superman to a crisp, but that's not what her daily goal is to accomplish. More importantly, she wants respect and she wants money, and the way she gets both is not by trying to rob banks, it's by leaning into her background as a media personality combined with her new powers. Unleashing electric bolts is honestly the least impressive part of her powerset in terms of her ability to manipulate anything and everything technology.

The Internet? Livewire can crash the entire thing with ease, or restrict access to portions of it. She can do the reverse and smash through firewalls and encryption like it's made of paper. Imagine Livewire shutting off the power grid or causing it to explode, secretly using your "smart" tech to record your every move, uploading ransomware to every piece of technology in Metropolis, emptying the bank accounts of anyone who annoys her, or bringing Metropolis to it's knees thanks to the "City of Tomorrow" being a test ground for the Internet of Things, so everything is connected and thus easily manipulated. Smart cars crash into each other, elevators randomly drop, trains are unable to stop and simply accelerate onward unceasingly, plans attempting to land find their instruments on the fritz, anything and everything is Livewire's to control. But terrorism, while entertaining and occasionally profitable, isn't Livewire's main focus either.

One of my favorite Superman Adventures stories with her had Livewire manipulating TV broadcast signals so that any time there was a male news reporter on screen, the signal wouldn't come through. Stuff like that, where Livewire is making life hell for people in a way that isn't immediately life-threatening is what I envision as her day to day operations, but her bread and butter is fake news. What Livewire is REALLY good at doing is manipulating the public due to her journalism background plus her powers. She can make fake videos that look totally authentic, fake articles that seem to come from credible sources, fake voice recordings, she can make anyone appear to do or say anything through the Internet, and then she can upload that to the devices of every single person in Metropolis.

You can get stories about the mayor being framed for taking bribes, local activists cast as grifters, and supposed upstanding citizens such as Lois Lane and Clark Kent appearing to take orders from criminals like Intergang on what stories to run. Basically you lean into the journalism aspect for Livewire stories where Clark and Lois have to investigate to see whether what Livewire is putting out there is fake or legit, with peoples lives and reputations at stake (including frequently their own).

And when Superman and Livewire actually do clash physically? I don't care how it gets justified, Livewire simply being that powerful, her lightning being "special", she has the ability to manipulate Superman's bioelectric field, whatever: she can hurt him. When she hits Supes with lightning, it burns. It's painful as all hell. Livewire needs to be a threat and I'd like her to be treated as a powerhouse since I don't see a reason why that shouldn't be the case. Livewire is a really cool Rogue, there's a reason she's managed to keep getting used long after the DCAU ended. I hope the comics creators start utilizing her to her full potential.

#superman #livewire #lois lane #dc comics

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 5 years ago

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Humans are Space Orcs, “I Have Seen.”

Wrote something easy and more similar to my original stories today. I hope you like it.

I have been thinking about taking a couple days off from writing these stories, since I have been working non stop on this and the book for over a year now, so I am considering taking a break for about a week so I don’t burn out. I haven’t decided yet, so we shall see, but I hope you all have a great day.

I have a job no one knows about.

I don’t think anyone would be surprised if they heard about my job. I don’t even think they would care all that much.

None of this explains why my work station is in the basement of a nondescript government bunker on a death planet…. A!36. I can’t explain why I need three codes to get into my office, or why I go through five locked doors, or why I am not allowed to tell anyone what I do on pain of termination and imprisonment.

You would assume, perhaps that I am a spy, and involved in some covert cloak and dagger espionage against other species and nations: you would be wrong.

You might assume I am a weapons developer, but you would also be wrong.

Perhaps you think I spend my time wire-tapping on important calls between species and recording important information.

None of this is really the case.

In fact, what I do is quite safe and relatively simple, plenty of other non-humans are doing it of their own accord and plenty more humans do it on a regular basis. What I do is not illegal, it is not espionage, it wouldn’t even phase you.

If that is the case.

Why do so many of my coworkers go missing?

Why are there absent desks every few months?

Why can I not make any lasting friends?

Management always give excuses to those of us who are left.

They left for mental health reasons.

THey moved on to a different job.

They are moving up in the company.

They had to be let go.

All things generic and all things that wouldn’t generally raise suspicion… unless they happen so frequently as us.

You may be wondering at this point, what it is I do for a job.

Perhaps, you think, it is very boring and unfulfilling that I would go insane from sheer boredom.

No, I actually find my job quite interesting.

Perhaps you think my job forces me to watch very disturbing and violent things…. And I suppose that could be close to the truth, though no one forces us to watch the videos if we don’t want, and no one makes us read the material if we cannot handle it. In fact, there are those of us who specialize in that sort of thing.

I do.

I am a specialist in historical xenopsychology.

I study human history.

When I say that I study human history, I do not mean as in a passing fancy. I do not simply read their school children’s textbooks and accept everything I see as truth, no, every day , I come into work and it is my job, to learn about everything that has ever happened in human history, to the best of my ability.

It is my job to know the good, the bad, the ugly, and the monstrous.

I work from day to night, cataloguing and filling my brain with all the information I can before recording it as a lecture on aura drives, which are then stored away for future use in a deep backup system under the surface of this planet.

I have followed human history since the beginning of time.

And I have marveled at it.

Much of my research is flawed, I know. Human history has always been biased, history being shaped and molded by the winners of conflict. Much of what else I know stems primarily from scholarly work humans have done on their own species, looking back the centuries and making assumptions about what they were doing.

While this is a good insite -- humans trying to explain the behavior of other humans-- it isn’t necessarily correct.

For this reason, it is my job to study every piece of information that comes across my desk.

Due to a government agreement between the galactic assembly and the United Nations of Earth, I was given access to the rebuilt library of Alexandria and all of its electronic files which include photos and information on the original documents that they keep in sealed vaults below the library.

I have read every account of human history, and every second hand interpretation of human history that I could possibly find in my time working here.

I have read Darwin and his early theory regarding evolution. I have examined his evidence, which include images and diagrams of the human body spanning centuries. My determinations were made just the same as the rest of them. Humanity was a tree-living species that found its evolutionary niche through walking and the use of opposable thumbs.

This ability to walk, in tandem with the use of hands eventually gave rise to the slow swelling of the brain in comparison to other animals. Human evolved primitive tools, and even more primitive religions, societies and rules.

They developed art early on, painting on the walls of their caves, in the darkness of night surrounded by their fires.

I have read about their befriending of animals in that same darkness. Man’s slow molding of the wolf into the dog - a species designed specifically for the needs of man.

I have attempted to read every account of every atrocity ever inflicted on humanity.

I have read of wars, and battles, Marathon, Thermopylae, Kadesh, D-day, Vietnam, Korea, Russo-Japanese, World wars I, II, III, and IV and the Panasian War.

I have witnessed in images and first hand accounts the chilling discoveries of natural disasters gone back thousands of years. Pompeii, Mt. St Helens, Katrina, Tsunamis, earthquakes, the fire of london, 1887 yellow river flood, the 3130 California earthquake, and Haiti earthquakes.

And I have studied and witnessed every atrocity man has ever committed on its own people. The Mongol hordes, the crusades, Mayan and Aztec sacrifices, The Armenian genocide, the Holocaust, mustard gas, 9/11, slavery in the America, the Trail of Tears, The Bataan Death March, the Berlin wall, Civil war, the French revolution, Nanjing, Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

I tore a hole in humanity and looked inside to see your rot.

I study the maggots that crawl under your skin.

Don’t confuse me with someone who fears you, or is even disgusted by you. You have committed thousands of horrors, yes this is true. But humanity is not a polished gem, it is an uncut stone marred by dirt and debris, but beautiful in a way that can hardly be explained.

You scrub away the rot only to find more underneath, yet you continue to scrub, in a futile attempt to better yourselves.

It is a beautiful thing if not in vain.

I do not judge you for your crimes because I have also seen your achievements. I watched you survive the dark ages, I learned your philosophy from the greek world which brought the beauty of democracy and equity in later forms. I watched the enlightenment of the Renaissance, and have seen your beautiful artwork from each period of time.

I have witnessed your great nations and empires rise and fall, Assyria, Byzantine, Rome, Britain, Egypt, Mongole, Aztek, Soviet Union, The chinese Dynasties and the Communist parties. The United States, and the Asian Co-Prosperity Collective

I have seen your bravery and your loss.

I have learned about the good that walks your earth.

Humans who stood up to tyrants.

I have even examined your stories of creation, of deities who molded humans from clay or dust, watched your world come into form in seven days, or ride on the backs of giant animals. I have seen the gods gift you with fire and learned the teaching of your martyrs over the centuries. Men and women slain and stoned or pulled away by spirits. I have learned of crucifixion, death and rebirth as well as reincarnation and a return to the very fabric of the universe itself.

I see everything.

I see everything. I see it all in my dreams laid out before me like a tapestry following each woven thread through the ages. I thought if I looked back, I could know as much as I possibly could. If I dug deep enough, I would be able to see your secrets.

And I have discovered you.

I see you hiding in there.

I know what you are.

Come out, come out.

And I won’t stop until it is all over and your cities crumbled into dust and bone.

…

I am being called into my manager’s office. Perhaps I too am ready to go up in the company.

...

I will be back soon…

Deus

#humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #HUMANS ARE WERID #humans are space oddities #earth is a deathworld #Earth is space Ausralia

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akimmito · 4 years ago

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Heroes are made by the path they choose

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Master List

Chapter 19

Damian is not happy. Everyone has introduced themselves and it only remains for the two intruders to do so as well, he hopes they refuse to be part of this, but from Drake's enthusiasm, clearly his wishes will not be heard and the two vigilantes will be part of the MT in some way or other.

"Well, it seems serious..." Nightwing hesitates for a moment, but does it anyway, it's the first time that he gives his identity in this way, remembering that they don’t just give their identities, but the MT has trusted them and it seems that their Working method differs a lot from Batman's. "I'm Richard Grayson, you can call me Dick."

"Yeah, we're not doing that." Alix responds with an amused smile.

"So you're Tim, right?" Marinette asks Robin, who nods and removes his mask. "This will be easier then."

"Was the suit delay related to the MT?"

"Something like that." She answers vaguely, but it's Alix who breaks the mysterious air of the matter.

"Stealing museums is not something that is directly related to our vigilante jobs."

Dick looks in surprise between the pink haired girl and the bluenette, who just sighs. He's no stranger to robbery when necessary, just that they admit it so casually is disconcerting. Tim on the other hand, he knows that he will not be very comfortable with the information.

"Do you rob museums?" Tim asks a bit dubious, that's not something he would have expected considering his participation in similar cases taking down robberies and other similar crimes, he didn't think they would commit them.

"Oh yes, my next dream is to rob a Russian museum." Felix responds wryly, but takes his next sentence more seriously. "It's not something we do for pleasure. First we will explain what MT is and then you will understand better why we rob a museum… It will give me a headache."

"Security was dire for supposedly keeping such valuable objects." Damian scoffs, leaning back in his chair, not looking at his brothers. "I would have done a better job while I sleep."

Dick just looks at the boy curiously, did they take him with them? Surely he goes to school, right? Although it not was school day when they first met him and he was at the farmhouse, he's probably homeschooled alongside his monstrous dogs, you can still feel his paws on his face. He doesn't really know what to think of such a brilliant woman being a vigilante, although perhaps he's taking too much reference from Bruce and Oliver who are the complete opposite, he's not exactly a good reference himself either even though he's less grim than the original Batman.

Marie Lenoir and, in general, the majority in that room seem to her very healthy emotionally speaking or, at least, not constipated like him and all his brothers.

"We'll explain it in detail later. Chloe, can you start?

"Sure, Lenoir." She smiles as she calls her last name in her common haughty tone, which has become a way of joking between them. "For the public, the MT is the name of the vigilante organization and which is not related in any way to the heroes, which is not true. The MT is originally the group of heroes… turned into vigilantes to be able to investigate the whereabouts of the butterfly without raising suspicions."

"We haven't done very well, he's a slippery shit." Alix complains getting a little hit from Nathaniel.

"There are kids."

"I've heard worse things, Kurtzberg." Damian dismisses his concerns dismissively. Marinette just gives him a worried look, it's seen that he is holding back from saying something more offensive, he seems about to attack everyone and is worrying. He's been acting very defensive for a few days now.

"Stop saying my last name as if it were an insult."

"Then stop being an idiot, Kurtzberg."

Luka sighs, he's normally a very patient and understanding person, but everyone is a little nervous, easily excitable, they haven't been that nervous since God Shit and Not in Hell joined the team, due to the fact that one is a demon and the other a stranger to most except Marinette (and Felix apparently).

"Returning." Kagami is not willing to put up with everyone's way of acting, but she won't scold them either, surely Felix will have words with everyone and Marinette will take care of Damian. "We are the heroes, we all have magical knowledge and the MT is an organization destined to protect the Miraculous, the magical jewels that give us our powers. Our main mission is to recover the butterfly and watch over the other jewels, whether we have them in our possession or not. The museum robbery was the recovery of the Giraffe's Miraculous."

"Wow, what a good summary," Marc comments by how concise it was, his good humor is not overshadowed by the tension in the room.

"Mari-hime is the Great Guardian, the leader of the entire organization and the most important member of the TM. She is the only one who knows all the spells, potions and cares for jewels and Kwami."

“We don't all have an affinity for being full guardians, especially since we're too old to complete some parts of the training. We may not approve of the ways they did it back in the day, but it takes young spirits to mold compatibility with Guardian magic. Melody completed a large part of her training at the age of fourteen and later continued it with all the knowledge of the temple together with the assistance of some Kwami."

"So you're the heroes too? And they do double duty to keep the city safe… They've been fighting since they were fourteen… ”Marc interrupts Tim from his little review

"Marinette has been doing it since she was thirteen."

"You started alone, right?" Dick asks, he wants confirmation that she didn't have a mentor, but still can't imagine what it must have been like for her to be thrown into danger like that.

"Chat was there, but it was just us. It wasn't until sometime after that I met the Guardian, but it wasn't a guide as such… ”She says thoughtfully, remembering her beginnings as Ladybug. She didn't do her part either, she had settled into just fighting with the Akuma and hoping for some miracle that could reveal Hawkmoth's identity, along with many other things she regrets.

"It's still a great feat, I couldn't have." Tim admits, since he decided to become Robin only because he saw the need to be one to help Batman, otherwise it was not a battle worth fighting. "So what are the Miraculous?"

"Magic jewels connected to quasi-divine entities, they embody abstract concepts such as creation, destruction, emotions, etc. They are called Kwami, unfortunately the connection with the jewel makes them slaves of whoever owns it and it cannot be avoided that their powers are used for evil purposes if they fall into the wrong hands. "Marinette explains in the simplest way she can.” I have been investigating, but there is nothing in the Order's records of any way around control over the Kwami."

"And destroy the jewel?" Dick questions, it's something important if she is saying it, so it's better to understand, although the idea of magic jewels sounds to him straight out of an anime.

"They agreed to anchor themselves to the jewels to be able to have contact with the world in a more personal way, it's what allows them to have a corporeal form and relate to the environment instead of just existing isolated ... The only thing that can have contact with the world material are their powers, but they as an entity are not. At first they considered it a small price for the opportunity to live with their creations, but the slavery that it brought with it was a long-term impediment ... In any case, only the power of Plagg can destroy the jewels, but for magical reasons he cannot do the same with his own jewel."

"Silly if you ask us," Chloe complains. They actually read the temple books, the ones God Shit recommended to them and even Alix traveled with Fluff's help to different times to discover secrets that might have been lost, but nothing in relation to magical slavery, although they didn't go as far as to meet the magician who created the Miraculous, they feel that it's not advisable to do that.

"Maybe we should blackmail Luci into seeing if he knows anything…" Nathaniel mutters, earning a snort from Marc.

------

John: I'll arrive in Paris tomorrow, I found some old books that mention the Kwami

John: I think you will like them, they could help us with our research

John: I also bring a gift for your son

John: I don't know if he mentioned it

John: [Photo attached]

Marie: Where will I put that?!

Marie: John!

John: He didn't mention it to you. Well it's a peace offering

Marie: It's very sweet of you, but I also didn't know that you guys have been talking.

John: I knew he wouldn't tell you anything, the little monster.

John: I guess you don't know who came here either, right?

Marie: No! No wonder he acted so strange, he felt guilty. I can not believe it

Marie: I can't be angry either

John: Why should you? He's taking care of you and, for now, it's the only way he knows

John: It will get better, you have that effect on people

Marie: You’re sweet

------

The meeting continues in an uncomfortable environment, if someone hints that they are fully functional adults, anyone in the room would quickly tell them they are wrong. Against their better judgment, neither knows how to proceed. It's usually Marinette who knows what to do, but neither she nor Felix are entirely sure how to proceed from there.

"So… we all agree that we shouldn't say anything to the other Batman?" Nathaniel breaks the ice, looking doubtfully at everyone.

They're a bunch of awkward adults, that's for sure.

"That is obvious, Kurtzberg. The important thing about this ridiculous meeting is to know if they are useful for our interests. So, speak up, what can you bring to this partnership? We are giving them access to one of the greatest secrets in the world, an immediate support team and, above all, a network of reliable contacts around the world. ”Damian folds his arms and looks down at his two older brothers.

Dick looks up to see the boy, who seems very confident in his words and, despite various expressions to the boy's words, cannot say that he's being arrogant about it. Tim is the one answering.

"I offer myself. I've been designing tech updates for Batman, but there are some devices that would fit his surveillance better than ours. "He starts going through his files and Marinette gets up to hand him one of the computers Max uses for data presentation, which are designed to withstand the information traffic that they usually handle in most of their cases. "Oh thanks."

She sits back and watches him set up his own technology with Max's, feeling very excited by the clear differences and surprised when Markov makes an appearance.

"Who you are?"

"Markov, that's Timothy Drake. Let him play on the computer, he wants to show us something. "

"Okay, I thought someone had got hold of some piece of technology. I'll let Dima supervise it."

Dick watches in surprise as the settings return to normal and the screen returns to the files Tim was manipulating in order to present them to others.

"Was that an AI?" Richard questions.

"The question is stupid, obviously it was."

"Damian." Marinette places a hand on her son's head and gives him a firm little look, silently asking him to avoid attacking his apparent paternal family. "That was Markov, the artificial intelligence designed by Max, he's a great ally in research because of his ease of hacking without being detected. He's joined by Dima, the one in charge of guarding the complex and taking care of the Kwami that rest in the box."

"Does he have emotions? That's great. Wait... did you say Max? Max Kanté?"

"The only one" Max walks in just then, grabbing his own laptop and picking an empty seat at random. Tim just stares with his mouth open.

How not meet the genius who designed a robot capable of feeling emotions at thirteen? The guy is quite a celebrity in the scientific world! He founded KanTech at the age of eighteen and is currently a major multi-branch business rival to Wayne Enterprise. In a way, that he's the one designing the MT technology makes perfect sense.

"I don't want to interrupt, but there is an Akuma."

The MT, in a synchronized way, complains in its own way. Damian insults the man behind the mask, Felix complains about it being night, Chloe exclaims about the bad time to do it, Kagami mutters how annoyed it is, Nathaniel is just a long wail with a comforting whisper from Marc.

"Hurry up, let's see what he has prepared for us this time. Team, Kagami, Chloe, Felix and I will go. The others, wait to be called."Those mentioned stand up just in time for the Kwami to appear, which is Pollen hands the comb to its owner, while Wyazz nods to the blonde who is taking off his jacket and gloves to reveal the miracle bracelet.

Marinette also removes the glove where the ring is hidden. The four of them transform in front of the foreign vigilantes, surprising them by seeing the transformation.

In front of him were no longer the vigilantes but the heroes of Paris.

#maribat #dickinette #dick x marinette #mominette

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citoyenneangele · 4 years ago

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Les Mis in Bernese (Swiss Les Mis part 3)

The most interesting finding I had during my research at the library was a script of Les Mis in Bernese German (Bärndütsch), a Swiss German dialect, my native language kind of.

I found this extremely fascinating, to read a story that means so much to me, in particular a version of it that is very close to the original in many quotes, in my local language. It was without a doubt a very particular experience for me, enriching in many ways.

This script was written by Ueli Bichsel in the occasion of a open air theatre production in the Bernese old town in 2011.

Sadly it was pretty hard to find actual footage of the show after 9 years, since many of the things are no longer available on the internet after such a long time. This sadly also includes the photos that the theatre company uploaded.

Here is a partly reconstructed version of the website, that does include some aspects of it, like the introduction to the play and the cast, but sadly no photos :(

Here is one of the few pictures I found on the internet a few months ago, featuring probably Javert and Gavroche

youtube

here is a little exctact of the play featuring Valjean’s dispair, a fair in Montreuil, the Thenardiers, Cosette and the other 2 kids, possibly Fantine...

The way this video is arranged makes me suspect there would be a whole recording, to which I sadly don’t have access, but this video just focuses on the woman who plays the accordeon.

Besides that the only file I have access too is a a few scenes that were featured in a christian tv show which you can find here. It is a portrait of the woman who did the co-direction of the production. The portrait starts at about 5mins in. It features besides the portait of Nathalie Trachsel also some behind the scenes clips from the rehearsals, also some scenes from the actual play: Javert upon Valjean’s release, Valjean and the Bishop, Fantine dying, Javert confronting; then after a break The Amis shouting “to the barricades!” (in particular Combeferre, Feuilly, and Enjolras (the guy with the red cravat), them building the barricade, the first attack, Gavroche shooting the sergeant and Gavroche dying, Valjean releasing Javert.

Now let me tell you about the particularities of this play and its adaptional choices:

The language: as I already said, this is the first time I hear and read Les Mis in my native dialect. It is a very poetic form of it using many specific Bernese terms of vocabulary, that I would probably not use on everyday basis.

The script is specifically designed for the square in the old town where it was realised in 2011. Multiple references concerning the nearby streets are being made. Also the actual cathedral of Bern, giving the square its name, is being integrated, as the seat of the Bishop of Digne. I think they invested also some part of the introduction to the play by stating that all of this could also have happened right here, in these streets, which is a pretty powerful message.

The play includes multiple dreamlike sequences, that also explain multiple cast of Valjean. The first dream is kind of a nightmare that Valjean has during his first night after prison where he sleeps on the stone bench which resumes the ordeal he experienced since his conviction for stealing bread (featuring various Valjean-actors at different stages of his life). The next one is the one where everyone surrounds Fantine and wants money from her after her dismissal. Another dreamscene is the internal debate that Valjean experiences after learing about the “trial of the applethief”, where multiple actors represent the different voices in Valjean’s head (Madeleine’s self who doesn’t want to give up his freedom and doesn’t want to give his town up and do good there instead, even if this means breaking with the past, Fantine who insists that he has to save her daughter and thus can’t go in prison, the apple thief who doesn’t want to go to prison for life in his place, the Bishop who wants him to stay with the truth...). The last dreamscene is the near-death experience Marius has after the barricade which is very similar to the finale of the 2012 film which it predates, except that they are actually not singing the finale but the regular Do You Hear The People Sing in (standard) German.

Another particularity is the insert of Javert as some sort of narrator that comments basically the entire story from his point of view. This is particularly interesting because this Javert seems to me more omniscient than I expect actual Hugolian Javert to be. And since there is no story without a narrator, this play ends with Javert’s suicide.

Generally the book seems to have been an important source of information, many of the dialogues are directly taken from Hugo

The influence of the musical is there and reaches also to the point of the already anticipated inclusion of a song into the play. But there are some part of influences that also make me think of other versions, in particular some dialogue seems to be directly taken from 2000 Les Mis (conversation about the cause from Marius and Enjolras)

Marius is a Republican (and sadly partially rude to Gavroche)

Javert tries to hire Gavroche to spy on the Musain, and the latter takes the money, but later uses this against Javert

Gavroche kills the artillery sergeant and not Enjolras, and gets killed while rejoicing his success

preparation for the barricade is featured

In general I have to say that I enjoyed reading this very much as it was really a well done adaptation from how I can tell this. Very detailed.

I am gonna keep a copy of this script. So if you have questions or would have to see something more in detail, just ask ;)

Click on read more to see the detailed summary.

Before the actual script several interesting documents are included

So the very first page is a letter that the director wrote to one of the actors in the play (he plays Le Noir, a elderly revolutionary, who gets a few lines of one of the unnamed workers of the Faubourg that Hugo quotes). He makes an excuse that it took so long, but they had to edit some things because there were not enough male actors for all the roles, so they had to change a few male roles into female roles, and they are also considering where someone may take over multiple roles.

Then we have a list of all the roles with the respective actors who played them. Some roles are still open, and marked with a question mark, as this list was made before the rehearsals actually took place

Next up we have a plan of the rehearsals, with days and hours and everything... interestingly enough they took place at a location that I personally know, so that is very meaningful for me.

Then follows the actual script. The title is Les Misérables - fate, death and love. The translation is by Ueli Bichel, last edited by Marlise Oberli-Schoch, in 2010.

Prologue

Valjean enters from one of the side streads, is poorly clothed, unshaved, lies on a stone bench and sleeps.

Valjean has a nightmare. so there is a scene within the scene. Which explains the quantity of Valjeans that are employed. Like the Madeleine's self, they appear to the actual Valjean actor in the dreams. In this particular dream sequence Valjean is sentenced to 5 years galleys. While both Valjean and his sister Jeanne beg for mercy (because he tried to work but that was not enough to feed all 8 of them, and parents are dead and so on...) the judge has none of this because the LAW.

Valjean2 is sentenced to more prison and other... corrective measures

Valjean 3 and 4 are sentenced to more prison and other unhuman treatment. Javert appears and lets the prisoners to be chained together. They go away

Javert has a monologue about Valjean. Basically he knows that we will say that this sentence is inhuman and that arresting people like JVJ causes more misery since he is the breadwinner of his family etc. But the law is clear and shall not be questioned. He is not in the position to judge the law, and he is also not responsible for the existence of criminals. His duty is it to find out about crimes and to fight them and to deliver criminals to their rightful punishment. He also gives Valjean his passport and tells him what he has to do and what happens if he breaks is parole...and then Javert speaks to the public and talks about how Valjean cried after his first conviction, and how he now doesn't show any feelings anymore. Wonders what happened to his soul.

A woman called Delacroix wakes Valjean up and asks him what he is doing here, why he sleeps on a stone bench and why he is not going to a inn. He says he was rejected everywhere. She gives him a tip and indicates... the actual cathedral that is on that square in Bern where the theatre takes place.

Image/Act 1

Valjean knocks at the cathedral door. First Magloire with Baptistine, then the Bishop come out. While the women are scared the Bishop approaches Valjean without fear and calmly. greets him with a blessing. Valjean tells him who he is and that he has nowhere to stay, that they didn't let him in even in the prison and so on.... Bishop invites him. JVJ continues to talk about his yellow passport. and is surprised that he wants to take him in ... more conversation of this kind. Bishop says it is not his home, it is the home of jesus, that the door ask not how the one is called who comes in, that is asks if one has hunger or thirst.... Says Valjean come sfrom a place where lots of sad things exists, a place full of hatred and anger against the peple, you have the right to mercy. When you go from here with a benevolence, and thoughts of freedom, a penitent sinner and a peaceful man, then you are worth more than anyone of us. Lets him sleep there.[

Magloire has a panic attack because the silver is missing and what else terrible could have happened. The gendarmes bring the arrested Valjean back.The entire conversation about how the bishop exonerates Valjean, by saying he gave him the silver and why didn't he take the candlesticks... And tells him to become a honest man, that he no longer belongs to evil...Javert as narrator again comments the whole scenery and does not believe that Valjean can become a good person in such a short time. Because once a prisoner, always a prisoner.

almost to prove Javert's judgement the next scene is Petit Gervais, but with a girl called Odette, Valjean tears his ticket

Image/Act 2

there is some kind of fair with music and dancing and market, and all kinds of shows. Javert is there, Thenardier is in his inn, Mme T. is there too... Thenardier boasts about how he, sergeant Thenardier, saved a General in Waterloo with lots of overdramatic details People in the audience have mixed feelings about his narration. While someone is totally impressed, someone else has heard other things about this "ghoul". The Thenardiers have first names (Justin and Rose) They have a discussion about their newest visitor and how they can rip him off the best. Make some remarks about his job as a innkeeper that remind me distantly of Master of the house in the musical. Javert has a conversation with Mme T. about Cosette. Then a conversation about Javert, who is new in town. and once they know where he wants to go (the police prefecture) they suddenly ask lower prizes.

So apparently the Thenardiers are in the same place here as Javert, and thus probably also Fantine and Valjean..

Javert arrives at the police. there is a captain Bovet, who is currently ridiculously eating a sandwich and is not bothered by Javert's arrival until he says who he is, i.e. the new police inspector, and he keep telling him that he is not behaving the way he is supposed to according to the official instructions. He wants to see the mayor immediately. On the way, Javert has a conversation with Bovet about how much more clean it is here and how much less crimes there will be here than in Paris. Bovet says that is due to the glass manufacture that the life in Montreuil has never been better. He asks him if he wants to see it. He says, first the mayor. Whom does the factory belong to? To the mayor. He first worked as worker, but after the bankruptcy of the former owner he bought the entire factory six years ago. Javert thinks then it is even better if they first go and see the mayor, when he seems to be the driving force in this town. Bovet says, yes, but also that he is kinda extraordinary, eccentric, well very shy. He lives like an eremit, retired and alone. He even did not want to be elected, he had rejected to be mayor at first. The people think he is abit crazy, but Bovet thinks he is sympathetic and yet he has a bit of pity for him because he is so lonely. A very short, very formal visit at Madeleine's house, where for some reason a soldier is watching, and asking the mayor to come. The scene concludes with Javert-narrator wondering from where he knows this man, finds it weird that this man does not show any interest in the prefect of police (excuse me what are you now, Javert, prefect, inspector, officer? I have lost the overview in this play), wonders if he has something to hide, himself, his face, his voice, a movement, his language....

a woman called Ducret approaches Madeleine, and tells her about one of the girls at the factory, that she has not spoken to ehr yet, but everything indicates that she has a child. Madeleine asks if she is a whore. He only does not want that his workers are captured by moral disintegration. Ducret then suggests to dismiss her. Madeleine trust upon her judgement, and says in this case she shall give her 50 francs and send her away. Ducret has a conversation with Fantine which starts with innocent smalltalk and ends with her being dismissed.

basically Fantine is in a state of powerlessness and everyone wants money from her and threatens her. (The Thenardiers, the landlord the renter of furniture, the letter writer...) Fantine breaks down.

a woman called Françoise who offers haircuts, wigs and teeth, buys Fantine's hair.

Whores in front of the Thenardier's inn and apparently Mme T. is there too, singing (apparently not being a whore). and Javert and Bovet are there too, about how they are being more and more... Two guys called Rambone and Savioni are harassing Fantine who looks worse than the other whores, and Fantine defends herself tries to kick one of them in the eggs ^^ When Javert comes the men disappear...

Javert arrests Fantine and as a narrator he makes a comment in which he says very clearly what he thinks about her (I am not gonna repeat that here though), but basically she is very criminal and is treating good and honorful citizens of this town badly and this can not be tolerated. She breaks down and asks him for mercy because Cosette, you know, but of course Javert doesn't care. So she breaks down and coughs even more...

Madeleine intervenes, Fantine attacks Madeleine, who only wants Javert to release her, but Fantine thinks Madeleine is responsable for all her misery and spits at him. Madeleine says he know what happened, the men are at fault and should be punished, not she. But she insulted the mayor. But the mayor says that this is his business and not the justice's. The whole Javert-Valjean argument about Law and who has what competences Fantine is free. Madeleine wants to pay her debts and bring her daughter back and make that she can live a worthy life again. Fantine faints, and Valjean says to the soldiers to bring her to the hospital

Fauchelevent's incident with the cart. Involves various inhabitants of the town called Toutou, Zidane, Josephine, Fabienne, and Rahel Javert is there too, and in the end of the chapter he is sure that Madeleine has to be 24601

Fantine is deadly ill, Madeleine wants to bring Cosette before she dies

Javert demands to be dismissed, featuring detailed description by Javert on the points where he thought to have recognized Valjean (and reading this script in its entirety makes me realise mistakes that they didn't. For instance here he still stole from a boy (i.e. Petit Gervais and not Odette). Equally detailed description of the apple thief, and who recognized him as Valjean. Mention about the trial the next day. Madeleine says he can leave. Javert insists to be dismissed. Madeleine says, rather than dismissed he'd need to be promoted, he appreciates him as the dutifuly man of honor that he is. Javert has another monologue that how each time when he arrested someone and mercilessly judged him, he told himself "help me god that you will never stumble", And now he stumbled and needs to accuse himelf. It is about justice, the law asks for an example. Valjean just says we'll see.

dreamlike sequence. Features different actors that represent the different voices in Valjean's head.

Bishop: tells him to go his way. And stand to his identity, to lie would be very wrong, he promised to do no wrong anymore.

Apple thief: blames him for making him his substitute, the one who needs to suffer in his place

Madeleine's self: is relieved that Javert is no longer going after him. Valjean no longer exists. This was god's will. God wants me to do more good here, to be an example for others, everything else is destiny. And for that I need to stay the mayor who gives food to the ppor and makes that the orphans get good education. He shall break the candlesticks as he shall break with the past. He shall forget about the bishop. And also this apple thief is a criminal, he shall be in prison.

Fantine: asks when she will finally see Cosette, he owes her a lot for all the injustice she has suffered because of him. She doesn't think the apple thief wil be a better person but he will be an example for her child. He shall save Cosette who is suffering because she is mistreated by the Thenardiers

Valjean wakes up and tells Arnaud to leave for Arras.

Image/Act 3

again no trial scene, just a summary of a very angry Javert who wants to go after Valjean NOW, as he humiliated him

Fantine dying. Javert confronting Valjean and making respectless remarks to both Valjean and Fantine. Valjean in turn accuses Javert of having killed Fantine. Valjean attacks Javert with a chair so that he can pay his last respect to the dead Fantine. Then says to Javert that now he is at his command. Javert makes another extremely unnecessary stupid comment. Valjean approaches Javert and stretches out his hands, as Javert wands to bond them, he knocks Javert down and escapes

Valjean sees Cosette and wants to help her carry the bucket of water home to ther mother. Cosette says she has no mother, thinks she never had one, that she brought her and never picked her up again. Valjean asks if she lives alone. She says, almost, Monsieur and Madame are only beating her. Realizes she is Cosette, says he wants to stay in the inn for the night, she shall show her the way. They talk about the two other children, Popine and Zelma, who never have to work and have beautiful dolls, and always are allowed to play, while she has to work all day and is not allowed to play as the two other kids don't let her. Only sometimes she is allowed to play, when she is done. But she has nothing to play with. She once played with one of the dolls but then Madam beat her. But she has a small sabre of tin with which she dissects leaves and rainworms

Usual Thenardier-inn conversations, in particular the one about the missing bread, the lost money, that Valjean miraculously finds, Valjean buying the work she'd have to do, (socks), he buys her a doll in a nearby shop, the whole negotiation about Cosette, including Thenardier insisting to see a passport. Valjean saying he doesn't have any, it is not required here. If he takes Cosette with him they won't know his name or his address, they will break down all the bridges behind them . However he has the letter of Fantine. They leave quickly.

Here the Thenardiers don't go after him, they just regret that they didn't make more money

another Javert-narrator monologue, about the dangerous criminal that escaped him and that now also has an innocent girl in his hands. He searched with 36 men and 6 dogs but he is like disappeared from this world. He felt so bad wehn he told the police minister about this development. But the latter did not seem to be that interested, talked about social misery, about shortcomings in the health system. Told him about the beggars, the neglected, from the small criminals who kill another man for bread, about big criminals who in hordes rob reputable citizens, he shall not chase a phantom. But our dear Javert is obsessed with said phantom and doesn't want him to escape. He wants to follow his trace until he has him on (no, not under) the guillotine. He is coming to Paris, not for the miserables, for whom he does not care that much, but for Valjean!

Image/Act 4

Gavroche singing a song about Paris in the time text, yet missing

a coin falls on the square (no idea from where), an entire bunch of poor children and teenagers fight upon it. Gavroche, the most streetwise/smart/crafty of them takes it, and escapes, the other children behind him, he gets caught by Javert, the other children disappear Javert treats him badly and takes the money away from him. When he asks Gavroche for his name, he asks Javert back, but he doesn't seem to be interested in reavealing his identity. But then Gavroche tells him his name, because he told him that there are many like him. And he insists that he, gavroche is unique. So basically Javert recruits Gavroche to spy on the Café Musain "because there are things happening that are of big significance for the state and the city", and Gavroche says yes, because he gave him money. Javert wants to know who is there, what they speak about and what they intend to do.

The students and workers in the Café Musain discuss the situation and Javert spies on them. The people is agitated, one fears that there will be a revolution, a uprising of the miserables Grantaire (who is absent in an older version of the script) declares that he only wants to drink and forget about life, a stupid invention without purpose. Bahorel and Joly have a conversation about Bahorel's lover Feuilly talks about Roman Gods (apparently we now have a Jehan Feuilly or is that a Feuilly Prouvaire or whatever?) Grantaire has a monologue about what they consume in different cities, and harrasses the waitress. Courfeyrac doesn't want any kings anymore and does not like the charter, thinks she belongs to the fire. Enjolras comes in with Marius, presents the latter as a friend of his who want to join them. Marius is a republican and declares that he wants to fight for the republic with all his force, however he hopes it won't get that far that he'll need to give is life. But he prefers to do so rather than life under a tyran (suspicously similar to 2000 dialogue if you ask me) They sing the Marseillaise until Louison tells them to stop, because she does not want the police to shut down her pub. Yes, apparently she now is an innkeeper too.

Outside the café: chaingang. Valjean with Cosette watching. The conversation between the two that ends with Cosette saying "If one of them would cross my way, I think I would die... Dad, what are galleys?" Valjean wants to leave. Marius sees her and wants to follow her, but loses her in the crowd. Goes after Gavroche instead and handles him pretty rudely (Sorry Marius, but this is not how you do it). Basically he tells him to find an angel. Gavroche then is just like "but does this angel have white wings?" Marius instead gives him a detailed description of Cosette and her goldbrown hair and white dress, and how velvet her look is and how silky smooth her lips ar and everything...

They are back to the Musain Combeferre says all the workers have to swear that they go to the streets at the first alarm and fight Feuilly says he can be sure, they fight. But the students have to pave the way. We workers fight, and even if there are as many enemies, we'll fight Feuilly says they are 300 already (oukei, now I am really impressed) Bahorel is convinced that in 14 days they will be as strong as the government i.e. 25000 Bossuet declares he doesn't go to bed, he makes cartridges. Feuilly wants to fight. now. Enjolras says first they need to have weapons Courfeyrac insists that the soldiers do have weapons. Le Noir has the "either for the people or against the people speech" that is more or less an exact translation of the speech that one of the revolutionaries in the Faubourg has in the preparations chapter. Gavroche comes, announces Lamarque's death Combeferre: what? Lamarque? The courageous freedomfighter, our advocate? Now we have resist on our own! Away with the government! Feuilly: we overturn the government! To the barricades! Enjolras: it is about us! now its about everything! at his funeral - to the barricade!

Valjean and Cosette in the garden. They are considering to move again. Cosette: we are changing houses like we are changing names. Valjean is like "I know that must be weird for you, but one day you will understand". Valjean goes inside. Marius is with Cosette (Gavroche led him here, for money), lots of poetic blablabla, and <3<3<3, and you know, Marius shows her handkerchief and ask if it is hers, she says yes. In the end Valjean calls her. Says he keeps the handkerchief as a pledge

The "Thenardier Gang" (yes that is how they are called nowadays) sets out to rob Valjean's house. Eponine tries everything that they don't. In the end she succeeds.. Claquesous blames not only her but also the sight of 2 fighting sparrows and a black cat during the day. Cosette tells Marius they are leaving for England and probably won't come back. Cosette says Marius he should follow them, but Marius says he has no money. He says e won't come tomorrow, only the day after, and also he dies if she leaves. Marius says they have to renounce on each other for 1 day, but maybe they'll win life. Marius tells her the address. or more precisely he graves it into the wall, says he lives with Courfeyrac. when he is gone, Valjean decides they need to leave immediately, he has seen people that don't please him and Paris is bubbling, they have no choice...

Image/Act 5 (named the revolution)

So basically Lamarque's funeral has already happened. And many of the poor have paid him their last respects. Then the subversive slogans suddenly caused the troops of the king to attack people. People are kinda angry and meet up in front of the Musain. Courfeyrac finds a group of workers who come from the funeral, but luckily have not been among those who were attacked by the dragoons (ah, they are not called dragons, good to know :)), but are very angry, Courfeyrac tells them to go inside they can use people like them. Bossuet speaks with a worker from another group, who has a grazing shot in the arm, but doesn't care, they discuss about their weapons Feuilly asks a working woman what she wants. She says: to fight. Show them up there that they push back against that. Feuilly approves. Another worker has no weapon but would fight if he had one. Bossuet tells him he should provide himself one. Worker sets out to pillage a armorer. Everyone in the crowd shares rumors about what happened, and the Thenardier and Claquesous are awaiting happy times. And Babet also. Extraordinary mention to Combeferre declaring this is the best day of his life. They start building a barricade and undercover Javert has made his appearance.

Eponine tells Marius Cosette has left, apparently without leaving a sign. Marius is heartbroken and wants to die on the barricade at any cost. Which again upsets Eponine because she loves him

Inside Musain. Enjolras wants to know what is happening. Courfeyrac says the rumors are very contradictory and it is hard to tell what is truth and what is a lie. Lots of army, people is building barricades everywhere. Barricade is growing and more people are there. Gavroche comes over the barricade. Asks a worker who has the command. One who's called Enjolras. He wants to know if he is a general. Worker says no, the generals are on the other side. We are only brothers. Gavroche says Enjolras he wants to volunteer. Wants to send him to the ambulance. But Gavroche wants a gun. But Enjolras wants to arm first the men, then the women and only then the children. Gavroche leaves and comes back. Tells Courfeyrac and Enjolras there is a problem and draws their attention on Javert, and tells them how he offered him money to spy on them. For some reason he now knows his name. They arrest Javert and by binding him on the post at the entrance they want to show a warning to anyone who dares to betray them

they are awaiting the 1st attack Combeferre sees someone approaching. Enjolras says don't shoot, we know who it is. Bossuet says it's Gavroche. Gavroche wants his gun. who's there- french revolution. The whole Mabeuf thing except that they really present him as an ancient assemblyman who was "at the convent" (which is here not meant the place where nuns are, but the convention, which is apparently called convent in german for some reason). Javert gets another weird narrator-monologue where he denounces the stupidity of the students who throw their lives away and those of the workers because they always think you can change the world all of a sudden. And how they don't have a chance as badly equipped as they are against so many more well trained soldiers. That has to end badly. Either they die in the hail of bullets or "they are beheaded on the guillotine" (ok apparently this Javert has a guillotine obsession but doesn't know how such a thing works ) Javert goes back into the scenery where Joly reminds him that he will be next... The whole first attack plus Marius wants to blow the barricade up, and thus saves it, and asks for the leader, and Enjolras says its Marius. But all Marius wants is to be alone for a moment

Eponine dies and Marius discovers that Cosette still is in Paris

they sing and women bring food, they reprepare the weapons, basically drink with me mode I guess... Marius writes his letter to Cosette and asks Gavroche to bring it. Gavroche doesn't want to miss the next attack and thinks he shall wait... Marius insists that he has to leave now, that they won't attack until tomorrow. And then it will be too late to go because all the streets are closed. Gavroche goes.

It is night and they are trying to rest. One starts to sing the "Song of the Revolution (Musical)" and then the others join in. Combeferre and Gavroche come back. Gavroche has a bag of cartridges with him. Gavroche asks what is going on with them. Here no one sleeps anymore. The whole army of Paris is around etc. (basically what Enjolras says in the book divided between Gavroche and Combeferre) The whole we'll stay and build the barricade higher, conversation, and the uniform conversation, except it is reduced to the essential and Combeferre doesn't get to say anything, it is all Enjolras, in between Marius asks Gavroche who told him to come back. He says he delivered the letter "to the gatekeeper" Valjean comes with the 5th uniform, the 5 leave. Enjolras cares for Javert. Javert recognizes Valjean and says he's gonna have it easy now. Gavroche announces their arrival. A cannon is being heard, like it being rolled there. Cannon attack. 2 people die. Enjolras says this was a grapeshot, and that they needs to stop this cannon, i.e. that it needs to be "fireworker"'s turn. Gavroche says he takes that over. Before anyone can prevent him from doing so, he is up on the barricade and shooting. he hit his target, and is all excited and rejoicing about how he "blew out his lamp", that he evidently forgot that he is standying on a freaking barricade. This causes him to be also shot, of course, and he falls down dead right into the arms of Combeferre.

Enjolras says to all that the last one alive shall shoot the spy. Valjean asks Enjolras if he can crush this man's skull with his own hands, and since no one has objectsions he lets him. Final attack is announced by both Marius and horns. (yes another Hernani flashback for Autumn ) . Everyone goes to the barricade Valjean and Javert alone. Valjean frees Javert with the mention of the promise he made to the bishop of Digne to never do anything unjust. And killing him because he did his duty as a policman here today, or because he followed him his entire life would be wrong. And if he against the expectance should make it out of here alive he can find him in Rue de l'homme armé. Javert says he hates this kind of games, he shall rather kill him. Valjean tells him to leave. He shoots in the air and goes back to the others where he says he is done. Heavy shooting happens. One after the other the defendants of the barricade die. Valjean does stay at the background and doesn't shoot on the soldiers, yet he supports the defendants of the barricade. he realizes that Marius was hit and falls from the barricade. Valjean goes to him. And whereever he looks there are just dying or dead "revoluzzers" (yes, this is the word he uses in the script, not revolutionaries or something like that). During the very last attack on the barricade he carries Marius away from the barricade and can escape with him to the sewers. The soldiers pull the flags of the revolution out and plant the flag of the monarchy (whatever "the flag of the monarchy" may be)

Image/Act 6

We are in the sewers now. Barely conscious Valjean falls down on a sleeping Thenardier at the gate that leads out of the sewers who thinks he has made the great gain. and of course wants to steal from them. and comments this in a monologue this is observed by Javert. And of course now Thenardier is all about helping these people, if they aren't dead yet etc. Javert says him just to back off, calling him by his name. Thenardier insists to help, but he says he shall just leave. Valjean gets back his conscience and checks if Marius is still alive, wants to lift him up again, then sees Javert and lets him down again. But Javert just asked him if he needs help. Valjean says to Javert he hasn't given him the address , so that je can escape. Javert wants to know who that man is. And reminds Valjean what happened to those who were on the barricade. Valjean says he survives if he gets help quickly. He is a daredevil, an idealist, but a good person and he can do many good things yet for our country. Please let for once in your life reign mercy before law. Javert insists that he is dead Valjean says not yet. Insists that he needs to save Marius and then he says he'll come back They arrange a meeting at the same place at the same hour the next day.

Marius lies in the middle of the open square between Barricade and inn scenery. There is only the bed and Toussaint that cares ffor him and Cosette that is looking over him. Marius has a fever dream and is near death when they sees all the friends including Gavroche and eponing with the revolutionary flags and singing "The song of the barricade" climbing on the barricades. It is the german DYHTPS (Lied des Volkes), arranged kinda like the finale in the movie that came out notabene after this thing here. Basically Marius is convinced that they came to lead him to heaven, but in the end they get fainter again and in the end of the scene Marius is alive and awake and with cosette.

Javert derailed made by Javert-narrator which linguistically resembles the confusion of Javert Valjean comes in in the middle of that and says "here I am" Javert halfway awakens from his trance, makes a step towards Valjean, holds his pistol agains Valjean for 2 seconds, then he turns around makes two steps back and holds it against his head. Light goes out. Shot.

THE END.

#Swiss Les Mis #Les Mis uf Bärndütsch #Bärndütsch #Swiss theatre #les mis #les mis play #les mis script

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sarissophori · 4 years ago

Text

Forebode, Chapter 5

Captain Hindel sat in the bridge as the shuttle maneuvered in for docking. She had since muted the feeds to spare her crew the sound of Varrez’s crying, though allowed the feeds to continue playing. Protocol aside, she decided against hiding this from her officers; even if she wanted to, it was well past the point.

She still couldn’t believe it on some level. Her first mission as captain, in charge of a new crew, and she already suffered a fatality under her watch. A gruesome one at that.

“Someone better tell Dr. Walsh to cancel that surgery” Komev said, finally looking away.

“I sent them in” Hindel said softly. “I told them to go inside.”

“You didn’t know this would happen” Ellson said.

Hindel scoffed. “Oh yes, go investigate the strange alien ruin on an unexplored moon, what could possibly go wrong?”

“Captain” Tajmaran said. “The power surge from the structure has gone off our charts, still rising.”

On XH-Ld’s surface, from the midst of the fossilized forest, a point of light shone and grew, flickering in a pulse that emitted a bright band of energy that spread across the moon like a ripple on a pond, racing over plains and mountains, vainly annihilating a world already dead, until it overlapped itself on the opposite end, breaking against its own wave. The pulse stopped, the readings dropped, and XH-Ld was sterilized once more.

The bridge crew watched, though found little amazement in it. They felt like children uncovering a harsh truth hidden from them by cautious parents, stumbling blindly into it without context, all the more scarred by it.

“Shuttle’s docked, ma’am” Ellson said.

“Tell them to meet me in my quarters when they’re able” Hindel said. “You have the bridge, Ellson.”

Word spread through the ship about Talgold’s death, creating an air of confusion and sadness, especially with Dr. Walsh. Hindel waited at her desk, equal parts patient and anxious, wondering how she would inform Sorenson of this, and how the company would inform his family.

Her console chimed.

“Captain’s quarters.”

“Hornens reporting, ma’am. Let me start by saying I’m sorry to hear about Talgold.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ve got the flight recorder sorted out” Hornens said. “And the damn thing’s encrypted. Most of it, anyway. Code Three.”

“Three?” Hindel said. “That’s company eyes only.”

“Sure is” Hornens said. “So unless we’ve got a high-ranking CEO onboard, this has pretty much been a waste of time.”

Hindel thought a few moments, keeping him on the line.

“Captain, you there?”

“Do you have any experience with such encryptions, Mr. Hornens?”

Hornens scoffed. “What?”

“I’ve read your file. You used to write code for Sorenson’s security division before transferring to engineering, not on the happiest of terms either.”

“That was years ago” Hornens said. “Even if I did, accessing those files without executive approval is a felony offense. We could lose our jobs just talking about this.”

“One of my crew has already lost his life” Hindel said. “And an entire ship was lost before that. I’d say those are circumstances warranting a peek behind the curtain, wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t think they will.”

“If they bring down the hammer, tell them I threatened you with insubordination and confinement; I’m a first-time captain gone hysterical who almost had you thrown out the airlock; I’ll make up the story, all you have to do is back me up on it.”

Hornens laughed nervously. “I’d never ask you to do that.”

“What would you do if you were in my position, Mr. Hornens?”

Now he kept her waiting on the line. He sighed. “Give me an hour. Hornens out.”

A few minutes later Varrez, Han and Barrens entered her quarters, their faces pale and sunken. Dr. Walsh was with them, standing to the side as an impartial listener. Their debriefing started at when they first lost contact in the structure, going methodically and painfully over the details up to the point communications were reestablished; Talgold’s activation of the structure, how its interface injured and affected him, and the creatures that attacked them. Here the debriefing lingered, having the hardest questions and the rawest emotions.

“We can’t tell you what they were” Han said in summary. “Animals, aliens, if it was the builders of that ruin mutated by infection, or if that’s just how they naturally looked.”

He shuddered. “I’d hate to think anything like that could be natural, though.”

“But now what happened to the Wanderer makes more sense” Barrens said. “The growth in the lab, the blood on the walls; it must’ve infected some of them. It wasn’t a mutiny; it was an outbreak.”

“Do we still have samples of this onboard, Dr. Han?” Hindel said.

“Not anymore” Han said. “As soon as we returned, I vaporized all the samples. I sterilized the containers and vaporized them too, just in case.”

“I guess procedures were less strict on the Wanderer” Varrez said flatly. “Didn’t know what they were dealing with, treated it like another benign specimen.”

“And it was one of the infected crew that attacked you, killing Talgold?” Hindel said.

Barrens shrugged. “As far as any of us can tell.”

“Where is his body?”

“In one of the pressurized rooms by the hangar. He got decontaminated with the rest of us, but I’d keep him in there just in case.”

“Doctor” Hindel said, turning to Walsh. “Given the nature of what we’re dealing with, keeping his body for an autopsy or any other reason would be putting the crew in unnecessary danger of infection, would it not?”

“Agreed” Walsh said. “Best to give Talgold his proper send-off, seeing as we have no way to vaporize an entire body. Sooner, rather than later.”

“Very well” Hindel said. “If there’s nothing left to discuss, I declare this briefing, and this mission, over. I’ll notify the company, and set a course for home.”

“Roger that” Barrens said. The others silently nodded.

“I’ll personally see to Talgold’s remaining affairs, if you don’t mind” Walsh said. “Least I can do, being his former superior.”

“Not at all” Hindel said. “And I’m sure it goes without saying that everything that happened on the surface, and this debriefing, is to remain classified, especially when we return to port. Understood?”

“Yes ma’am” they said.

“Good, I’ll inform the others as well. Dismissed.”

They filed out in a somber mood, returning to their stations or to their bunks, whichever seemed better. Varrez remained, sitting quietly, looking beyond where eyes could see with unbroken concentration.

“Varrez?”

She blinked. “Captain?”

“Do you need anything?”

Varrez smiled thinly.

“No ma’am, I’m sorry, it’s just…after what happened, I never thought I’d actually look forward to a cryo-pod.”

“I think we all are” Hindel said. “Remember, if you do need anything, I’m right here.”

“Of course, thank you captain.”

Varrez excused herself and left, leaving Hindel alone. One heartfelt sigh and music request from her console database later, her chime went off.

“Captain’s quarters.”

“Hornens reporting, ma’am. I’ve accessed the logs and have them on file. Should I send them over?”

“Please.”

“Transferring…”

An icon appeared on her screen. She tapped it and opened a catalog of feeds, reports, archives and personal logs, arranged from oldest to newest.

“I owe you one, Mr. Hornens.”

“Let’s hope it was worth it, Hornens out.”

The catalog began with the Wanderer’s entering of the XH system and ended, rather abruptly, after a few dozen logs, the latest dated a week after the crew’s waking. Hindel chose a written log mid-way through the list and worked her way down.

<Log 5

Anderson, Samuel M. manual report

Mission time: 4,452.17.03 hours

Northern hemisphere fully mapped. Found several promising sites for

further exploration; schedules already made and preparations underway.

Results should be interesting.>

It came with a list of attachments, scans of the promising sites: basins, dry river valleys, et cetera, and one Hindel recognized. She tapped to enlarge the image, and felt immediate dread. It was the fossilized forest where the alien structure was hidden. She flipped through more logs and reports.

<Log 8

Anderson, Samuel M. manual report

Mission time: 4,467.37.11 hours

Site 15-45 checked out today. Quite the anomaly. Samples taken and studied.

Wanted to investigate strange readings inside, but sudden storm caused

mission abort. Will return on better conditions. Content with samples

until then.>

So they didn’t find the structure? How did they encounter the creatures then? She opened an audio file from their science officer, dated a little after Anderson’s eighth entry.

Science division, Dr. Alder recording. Following a hunch about XH-Ld’s previous climate conditions, I’ve placed some of the samples in a nutrient-rich bath inside a container of oxygen. An hour into the test, and already I’m getting signs of revitalization. If it keeps going this well, I might do similar tests with the other samples. Who knows what we could learn from this tough little son of a gun? It would be worth a lifetime’s worth of work to see what kind of flowers bloom from that forest once we get a colony going. End report.

She read her way to the two last entries on the file. The next to last was the final audio log from Dr. Alder.

Science division, Dr. Alder recording. A day into the test and the samples are getting too big for their containers. I had to move them to the largest ones I’ve got. Their rate of growth and regeneration is astounding; just imagine the medical applications. Also, they’ve begun to sprout fungi-like protrusions; I plan on testing those as well, as soon as I find more containers. End report.

Then, the last entry. It was a video recording from a personal log, with no date or description. After a little hesitance, she played it.

Through the initial static, it showed the efforts of two people soldering a pressure door shut, breathing heavily and muttering worriedly.

“Think that’ll hold?” a man said off-camera.

“No” a woman said, also off-camera. “None of the others did.”

The perspective then went bobbing down a corridor, held by shaking, nerve-wracked hands.

“Oh-kay…” the male voice said. “This is Captain Sam Anderson recording what will likely be my final log. The sample, the thing…it’s devoured most of my crew by now, turned them into, into…”

He paused for a breath, swallowing the knot in his throat.

“They swept through the ship so fast, it’s only me, Tanaka, Gavin and O’Keeffe left. The rest are gone. If the company sends a rescue party, if someone comes looking for us, get out of here…get the hell out of here, before it devours you too…”

His frayed composure slipped for a second, and he began to sob. Fighting his pending breakdown, Anderson continued.

“I’m going to crash the ship and jettison a pod with the flight recorder inside. Hopefully, that and the high-level encryptions will keep it intact until someone finds it. Please find this. For the love of God, find this. It’s too late for us. This is Captain Anderson, signing off.”

Static, then nothing.

Heart pounding and herself on the brink of tears, Hindel jumped from her chair and ran out of her quarters, sliding down the ladder to C-deck. Pausing only to catch herself from slipping, she barged into the rec room where Barrens, his men, and doctors Han, Varrez and Walsh were gathered. Her haggard stance immediately put them on edge.

“Barrens!” she said. “You and I are getting into pressure suits and spacing that body, right now, do you understand?”

Barrens, flat-footed, gave a quick “Yes ma’am.”

She ran back down the corridor, Barrens following close behind. Varrez’s fingers started to tremble. She glanced at Han and Walsh.

“This just won’t end, will it?”

#story #sci fi #science fiction #horror #Forebode #sarissophori

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zampanobra · 4 years ago

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An Elegy For Cyberpunk

The genre isn't gone, but the silver lining sure is.

William Gibson's Neuromancer is one of those books that I can't remember ever not having read. But I do remember that it wasn't long after I read it that I was introduced to Shadowrun, which quickly supplanted D&D as my go-to RPG. I'm not sure how well I understood what was going on in the plot, and was probably too young to understand a lot of what was going on. (Later on, when I started to understand self-loathing, it made a lot more sense.)

Even then, I loved the world, the technology, and the aesthetic. Gibson is fantastic at showing an entire scene through a couple of hints. He doesn't lean into a lot of what we've come to think of as "cyberpunk" aesthetic, and I prefer his much more understated settings more than a lot of his more over-the-top progeny.

Aside from how it looks, though, a common trope is its focus on people on the fringes of society--the "low life" going along with the "high tech." It's not always criminals, although these lines get a tad blurry due to the increasing corporate dominance that is another common trope of the setting. This is even more the case in the Shadowrun RPG, where your characters ("runners") are mercenaries for hire by all the corporations vying for an edge, where law enforcement has itself been privatized, and where governments' roles in their citizens' daily lives are steadily eroding. (Although a dragon is elected president of one of the major North American countries, so there is that.)

Those familiar with this setting and the tropes associated with it may have raised an eyebrow when I said that there was a silver lining associated with cyberpunk. I'd even venture to say there's an actual optimism in many of these stories.

The Cyber Trickles Downhill

There's a public intellectual of sorts named Eliezer Yudkowsky who started a ~~cult~~ website called LessWrong, and who talks a lot about technology, science, and what-not. He has various "laws" attributed to him, one of which is that "Every eighteen months, the minimum IQ necessary to destroy the world drops by one point." The idea is that, over time, increasingly powerful technology will be in the hands of everyday people. It's kind of like the cliché about how we all walk around with smartphones that are orders of magnitude more powerful and capable than the computers used to send people to the Moon.

Unfortunately, this is not how it generally works out. When better computers and connectivity end up in people's hands, so does a great deal of capture: DRM, surveillance (both corporate and governmental), monopolization, and more recently the move to software-as-a-service (where you have to pay a subscription to keep using something on your personal devices). You can get around much of these, but only but devoting significant time and effort to doing so, and you may often have to do without some aspects of those services. It's rarely going to be as convenient as the more intrusive version, and in some cases you may be outright prevented from communicating with people without using it. And this is without getting into situations where your information is turned over to third parties without your even having an option. In my own life, two of our doctors' offices use third-party portals that include some aspect of record keeping, schools and daycare facilities use them, and I'm of course subject to any of the national things like credit reporting agencies.

Meanwhile, things like artificial limbs and the like have generally made their greatest advances in times of war. Prosthetics in at least some form go back to Ancient Egypt, but a formal industry focused on their production would not come into being until far later. In the United States, it was the Civil War that would drastically increase demand, with thousands of amputees surviving the war and seeking prosthetic limbs: one study estimated that 70,000 men lost limbs during the war. Part of this was the development of the Minié ball, a more modern bullet that caused more irregular wounds to flesh and was heavy enough to shatter bone. Medical science being what it was, doctors generally decided that amputation was a better approach than trying to piece the patient's body back together. After the war, the federal government created the means for the prosthetic boom by agreeing to provide prosthetics for any veteran who needed them.

One veteran, James Hanger (who had himself lost most of a leg) was dissatisfied with the available options, and so developed an artificial leg that hinged and was shaped more like a human leg. He went on to establish the American Artificial Limb Company after the war (which still exists as Hanger, Inc.). Mass production of artificial limbs wouldn't come about for another 60 years or so. Nonetheless, this next development was again spawned by the same combination of factors: a massive conflict leaving thousands upon thousands of amputees (World War I in this case) combined with the federal government providing the money. (War is, indeed, a racket.)

Little seems to have changed into the present, when it's now the perpetual wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, combined with military-oriented welfare programs being the only ones not under constant attack by austerity.

So it is that cyberpunk's dream of widespread limb replacements seems unlikely without coming on the heels of years of additional thousands of traumatic amputees and billions of dollars in subsidies. Under our current system, after all, there is no incentive to continue improvements to artificial limbs without government footing the bill, and the government in turn seems largely unwilling to pay attention to the needs of its citizens that don't have any connection to the military.

The other technologies that epitomize the cyberpunk genre are equally captured. All the improvements to computer technology in the world don't help without the infrastructure to connect them to each other, and service providers have made sure that they can maintain their monopolies (the lucky few have two options). So it is that we get things like data caps, which Comcast introduced for its customers just a few days ago as of this writing, during a time of pandemic when more and more people are reliant on broadband internet access to work and go to school.

In a similar vein, computer and communications technology has become only selectively easier to use. The basics are much simpler, to be sure, but the kinds of things depicted in cyberpunk--hacking and maintaining some semblance of privacy to name two prime examples--are harder and harder. Privacy in particular requires a near constant battle against the hydra of corporate interests that are constantly trying to chip away at it. And not just in terms of taking data itself, but even the expectation of privacy.

Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, YouTube--they're all predicated on making us share. And of course we do exactly that. Why wouldn't we? We have an innate need for community and connection. But just as advertisers long ago figured out that they could turn our own wiring against us, so-called social networks (anti-social networks?) took our desire for connecting with other people and purified it until it became a freebase. It's difficult to avoid and even harder to quit.

It takes money, knowledge, and work to even slightly escape, and even then it's not really possible unless you happen to only interact with similar privacy-minded folk or cut yourself off from society entirely. It takes almost nothing to be entirely mapped.

Meanwhile, the task is made that much harder by the fact that it's not entirely clear why our data is worth anything. The conventional wisdom is that it's for targeted advertising, but I have to wonder if that's actually worth anything anymore. Then again, it could be completely ineffective but still something companies want to do, since marketing believes that someone has to see a product multiple times before they'll actually seek it out. Plus, there's always the possibility of Facebook et al. cooking the books, as they did in the case of view counts on videos some years back.

Regardless, this lack of knowledge makes it harder for us, because we can't target our defenses. We don't have a clear idea of what's valuable and what isn't, what data is already out there and what data is still being sought. We can't, for example, make digital chaff to flood the collectors with junk.

Chains of Chrome

I'm told that essays should have some part of the author in them, and I can't help but notice that this approach--intertwining personal anecdote with the overall point--is used all over the world. Maybe it's a matter of not getting outside my own writing, but it seems to me that simply what I'm writing and how says more about me than talking about the smells in the bookstore where I bought my first copy of Neuromancer, or some story about my relationship with the friend who introduced me to Blade Runner. I personally have more faith in readers than that.

Having written what I have already, is it really surprising to know that what draws me to the genre more than anything is freedom? It may seem strange to associate freedom with the extremely powerful corporate entities and material conditions of most cyberpunk. But notice, these stories don't focus on the corporate bureaucrat trapped in a structure they'll never escape. Instead, it's the technologically-enhanced ronin, whether their particular weapons are blades or computer viruses. They ultimately answer to no one but themselves, and can generally find a way to live their own lives within the cracks in the business edifice. Sure, drama demands that this not always be true in some way, even if it's as simple as the criminal's reputation.

It's not difficult, then, to see the appeal. I have no skills to sell even if there were still a market for such things (instead of credentials). Mercenaries are rightly outcast, since chances are they'll be put to worse use than even a state-sponsored military. There's a reason that Blackwater has had to change its name two or three times by now.

Cyberpunk allows us all of the freedom of a new frontier by finding that frontier within an existing structure. Its characters aren't constrained the way we are in our daily lives, and can overcome both human nature and human society through the technology available to them. What is now considered experimental or only the purview of DARPA is to them a child's toy, with far better ready for purchase on the streetcorner.

In many ways, cyberpunk is a product of its time, when technology seemed to offer at least as much possibility as threat. Now, we don't really trust technology to be enough. We see the slow-motion apocalypse of climate change and don't believe that we can invent our way out of it; recognizing that even if the device existed, someone would figure out how to capture its benefits. I'm not sure it'll be anything so stark as having clean cities and then a burned wasteland surrounding them, but we'll only be saved to the extent that we're useful.

Cyberpunk showed us an increasing commodification of our lives, but even those imaginations couldn't foresee the degree to which this would be true, while they simultaneously underestimated its subtlety. The trackers on every website that form pieces of the economic puzzle that is ourselves feel too small to fight, and so we sell ourselves in a thousand pieces. Even being a corporate spy in a future dystopia is more honest.

#cyberpunk #inequality #tech #computer

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christineharrington1994 · 4 years ago

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christyto4d-beyond · 5 years ago

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Inspirational Artist Link: Responses

Electric stimulus to the face: This felt a little disturbing to me to watch - to see people’s faces and muscles moving without their will. It felt to me like a commentary on how much of human experience is actually just reaction or reflex and we are all programmed the same.

Alter Bahnhof: I thought this concept was fascinating - I didn’t realize until several minutes in that what was on the screen wasn’t what was currently happening. At first I thought we were watching the artist record. The way she used the overlay of past and present was really powerful - especially as she was talking about national and personal memories.

Bike Lanes: Oh my gosh! I loved the brashness of this piece. And Casey’s commitment to a kind of physical comedy to drive home a point.

Candice Breitz’s Portraits Legend + Queen: Neither of these albums are sound tracks that I have spent much time with, though I am familiar with many of the songs. So the musicality pieces was not a huge draw for me. However, I love the structure of these works. And I love thinking of them as portraits because it’s a true description on several levels. It’s a portrait of the original artists and a portrait of the album. It also ends up being portrait-like of each of the participants.

Meat Joy: This one made me curious. It sounded like the audio was reading instructions for something and I wonder if they were written for something else and then applied as part of this piece or if they were written for this piece? Between the French and just the older sounding audio I don’t think I caught all the words. What I could see and tell was that this piece was really pushing boundaries and it felt like it was making a statement about bodies that really resonated with me.

Vanessa Beecroft VB40: More than beauty and suffering, it seems like Beecroft’s pieces (and especially VB40) are commenting on what it means to be a woman in this society. This is one that will stick with me and that I will be reflecting on for a while. One of the things that really struck me was how some of the women would glance around and once they saw others sitting or resting, only then would she give herself permission to do so also.

Quintet of the Astonished: I love this deep dive into human emotion. With the 5 actors, it feels like a commentary on how everyone works through series of of overlapping and even contradictory emotions and that we all respond to a similar event a little differently. What resonates most with me is that it feels like an almost giving permission for viewers to deeply feel their own emotions.

Staging: Listening to Hassabi speak, I was so aware of the building tension and discomfort watching someone just be somewhere and to move so slowly and intentionally - it also made me much more aware of my breath. It made me hyper aware of the space and their surroundings, as she said. It feels like she is slowing down time by literally slowing down movement in the moment, rather than editing it later. I’m really interested in the contradictory reaction her work elicits - in me and it sounds like in others.

Talking Tongues: Wow - I feel she’s just sitting next to me chatting - and it’s horrifying to think how little has changed to protect women from routine violence.

Perimeter of a Square: The main elements of this piece (the taped square, the movement in time to the metronome) are very fixed, rhythmic and almost rigid. There was a disjarring contrast between that almost static/fixed nature of the primary elements with the disorganized background and the occasional awkward transition between sides or directions. It leaves me thinking about structure - how can it can scaffold a form and create deeper meaning, but also how it can stifle content/meaning if it’s too rigid.

Punk Prayer: Using music and performance to challenge the power of the church and state resonates so much with me. At first I was wondering how did they have get permission to produce this in such a traditional looking church - and then I realized they hadn’t and were just doing it!

Cut Piece: This piece made me super uncomfortable - particularly seeing the men come up to cut pieces of her dress off. Especially the man at the end, who cut off the straps of her white camisole or undershirt made me squirm and made me mad - particularly because that was outside of the bounds of what [I understood] she had invited people to do (cut the black dress off).

Interior Scroll: This appeared to me to be a commentary on where we as women look to for guidance, purpose or meaning. Is it exterior like in books? Or interior? And when we look and are guided from inside ourselves it makes others really uncomfortable. I really loved this and that message really spoke to me.

Bound Foot + Mouth: To me, this piece felt like it was about the entrapping nature of shame: it keeps us slipping and sliding, on unsure footing and with no words, to move forward. The other words in the pudding I think were sexual slurs -- maybe part of the cyclical nature of causing and perpetuating feelings of shame?

Wholesome: This film resonated for me as an allegory for information - we are force-fed way too much information to process and healthily integrate or respond to every day.

Roll of a Woman: The double entendre of this is amazing. Nice to way to end a list with some heavy topics

How to Earn a Glass of Water: This is so hard to watch and reveals such a hard truth about disparate access to resources.

Can knot: Guitterriez wrote about the need for patience and perseverance in attempting to solve problems as the meaning behind the piece. However, what stood out and resonated with me the most was that the microphone was the last cord to be untangled. It said something to me about voice and how (especially as women) there is so much built in to silence us, to make us stay small and those systemic pressures have to be worked through and untangled interiorly to find our (my voice) to be then be able to address them exteriorly.

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wonderer-ru · 6 years ago

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my soul remembers us

☾ Taehyung|reader story

↳ genre: fluff and soft angst ↳ word count: 14.004 ↳ warnings: none ↳ a/n: fun fact. i wanted to finish writing this by Taehyung’s birthday… last year. so this has been a long time coming. i love this story very much, this is my favorite concept and i hope you enjoy. please, let me know what you think. oh, and there’s a little easter egg for those who read “under the spell”. happy new year!

⍣…your generation cracked a shell of something that was beyond one’s comprehension for thousands of years. What was made to be a matter of belief, religion and mysticism, took a form of the undeniable truth. Reincarnation. Yes, in your time, reincarnation was a scientifically proven fact…⍣

moodboard

☾ reincarnation au; soulmate au

Each generation had something that they thought was impossible at the beginning of their reign, yet later it sneaked into reality with such smoothness, the discovery was welcomed almost too nonchalantly to be fair. Some thought video phones were out of a fairytale, but decades later they found themselves using those daily, without a second thought or the initial feeling of novelty. That’s how progress worked, you thought. The most farsighted people would just stop wondering and fantasizing, deciding to bring unimaginable things to their tangibility instead. Sometimes, it was scary how quickly those miracles became nothing more than mundane accessories in people’s routine lives.

You hoped it wouldn’t happen to this particular notion, because your generation cracked a shell of something that was beyond one’s comprehension for thousands of years. What was made to be a matter of belief, religion and mysticism, took a form of the undeniable truth. Reincarnation. Yes, in your time, reincarnation was a scientifically proven fact, that also helped in explaining several psychological phenomena; many of which were previously considered to be purely trauma-based. How could this become ordinary? Admittedly, the break through was still fresh in society’s minds, so you didn’t worry about its oblivion. Not yet.

Nowadays, the theurgic discovery nested right in the sweet spot: the government just started to provide financials for research, while keeping the scientific details away from the general public, therefore the concept was still too vague for the scammers to get their hands on it. Sure, mediums offered a look into previous lives long before that, but now they strived to cash on the boost that would inevitably occur, forging some science degrees along the way. The good old psychic shtick was in the past. Claiming you can talk to the dead in a dimly lit room wouldn’t roll anymore. No, people would ask you for your diploma now.

And while grifters tried to figure it out, clinics were built, special nursing courses and programs were organized, and you were fortunate enough to get into one. Studying felt like constant research, as if you were a part of developing this new knowledge, and it felt invigorating. You were learning aspects of reincarnation right as they were uncovered, and isn’t it the best way to become a specialist on the subject? Every piece of information was cherished by everyone around you, so you couldn’t help but stock those close to your heart as well. It all became even more surreal, when you found out that your first internship would be spent under the mentoring hand of none other than the man himself. Dr. Kim Namjoon. A young genius, only a couple of years older than you, that shook the world with his findings and now, naturally, was leading as many research teams as he could handle. The rest still worked with his careful oversight.

The growing amount of brand new possibilities and fields of research seemed overwhelming at times, yet there was one phenomenon that attracted the most attention. Confabulation. A disturbance of memory that used to be defined as the production of fabricated, distorted, or misinterpreted memories about oneself or the world, without the conscious intention to deceive. Now - dictionaries with this definition in them could be thrown away, because confabulation was currently known as “the glimpse into one’s past life”. Not really scientific yet, but, yes, those “fabricated” memories were proven to be very real memories that the soul experienced in one of its past incarnations.

People’s confabulations ranged from subtle alterations to bizarre fabrications, and - what’s even more fascinating - those people were generally very confident about their recollections, despite contradictory evidence. That’s why the subjects didn’t bat an eye at the contact with something much more modern than their previous self would be used to. The lucky peculiarity made Dr. Kim’s research much easier and a lot less expensive. After all, it would be highly inconvenient, if the doctors had to build entire eras around their patients - probably separate hospitals for people from certain decades - just for the results to be somewhat valid. It was crucial to keep people of interest calm and undisturbed, so, fortunately, they didn’t freak out when their soul from the 1920’s suddenly woke up hundreds of years later.

Surely, at some point, maybe half a century into the future, fruits of this work will become widely accessible - to wealthy people first, then to common folk - providing everyone with a peep into their distant adventures. Today, however, the thoughts of building any sort of business based on reincarnation were strictly put on hold, at least until Dr. Kim and his team figure out the safest way of putting a person into the state of paramnesia and, most importantly, bringing them out of it. The latter posed as a tougher task, because, at this stage of research, all existing records showed that patients could be stuck in ‘confabulation’ for, apparently, only God knows how long. From days to months, to even years. No trace of noticeable patterns or correlations.

“We have a new patient today,” Dr. Kim stopped in front of another hospital room, and you almost bumped into him, a little too intently scrabbling away in your writing pad. Namjoon (not that you could call him by his name) always had five to seven interns following him during rounds, because “I don’t know if you’ve gathered enough information about me, but I only have two eyes and one brain. I’d rather have all that, but times five. Gross, I agree. Plus, the surgery would cost a fortune. So I dutifully ask of you, interns, the fresh blood of this place, to be my extra eyes, brains, hands. The hospital will provide you with pens and paper. Quantity of your notes could result in quality of our overall data”. Dr. Kim was well aware that he couldn’t catch every single detail by himself - especially since he was the one asking questions - so he took all the help possible, which spoke to his humble nature. The man just really wanted to move forward with his discovery.

But, despite leading the most advanced scientific program in the world, he was quite old fashioned when it came to interacting with patients. Dr. Kim refused to install any hidden cameras in their rooms, because having interns by his side gave him several unique points of view on what his patients said and how they acted; which was priceless, unlike the equipment that would only lower his eyes sight in the end. Have you seen the quality of those videos? One-way mirrors were also unacceptable, as they would turn any conversation into interrogation, and the sheer vibe of the room could make patients feel uneasy. Not to mention the expenses that this kind of purchase would cause. Government could only help to a certain extent, and independent sponsors still found the research too risky and unreliable to invest into.

“I was informed that this case is somewhat special. The patient correctly recalled his name, which could mean one of two things: he just, for some unknown reason, remembered his current name, or, he had the same exact name in his past life. That we won’t be able to determine with certainty until he snaps out of it, I guess.”

“Is it possible that he has kept more memories of his present life? Of course, but we’ll have to wait and see. So,” Dr. Kim took the chart from a wall pocket and looked over it. “Kim Taehyung. Twenty three years old. Male. Car accident. Has a couple of bruised ribs and, of course, a head injury. The decade his soul is currently in: 1960s,” as you might have noticed, Dr. Kim favored answering questions before they were asked, which honestly made things easier, since your preference consisted of staying quiet, observing and writing things down. “You will all be given additional files with more information about him, what his family and friends could provide. Take your notes carefully, so later you can potentially point out similarities between his past and current lifetimes.”

You nodded, along with four other interns, and followed Dr. Kim into the room, laying out some preparatory work on the blank piece of paper: his name, today’s date and the date his soul thinks it is. As you walked in and proceeded to take your usual spot in the corner of the room, your gaze brushed the patient’s figure on the bed, noticing a book in his hand. A book that, according to his perspective of time, would be written half a century later, so, basically, the man was reading a story form the future and didn’t even know it. You made a note of it, even though it wasn’t your main task.

This late into the internship, you and your group-mates have made up a system where each intern had only a couple of aspects of the conversation to document. No one had to split their focus, and, at the end, you’d exchange notes to create the complete picture. Some had to pay close attention to patients’ nonverbal behavior, some listened to their voice and intonations. Your job was to write down the exact words that were said. That’s why you didn’t bother with getting a better place to stand, to look at the young man. Your ears would work perfectly fine from the corner. You were used to carrying this role by now, since it was pretty much the same group of interns every time, and everyone has settled into their groove. Although, maybe, you should’ve switched more often, because catching the words and writing them down became a chain of mindless, automatic operations. It didn’t matter what the conversation was about. You’d analyze everything later, when the puzzle is assembled.

Dr. Kim went through his usual set of questions - nothing specific, yet; minimal usage of modern terminology; just general check up - but, a couple of minutes in, his voice acquired lightness that was slightly out of character, and you even heard Namjoon laugh. Huh. This guy must be very amusing. The thought left your mind as soon as it entered, and you continued to be oblivious to the patient’s velvety voice, or the way a wide boxy grin made his eyes disappear. Words, words, words. You were only concerned with words, not noticing that the room was already charmed and completely in love with Kim Taehyung. Maybe, you’ll feel the same, once you read back everything that’s been written in the past ten minutes.

However, your fluent handwriting suddenly falters when Dr. Kim is interrupted mid sentence.

“Y/N?”

Your own name was left unfinished under the pen as your eyes widened in realization. The patient just called you, and, judging by the tone of his voice, he was pleasantly surprised. You looked up to find every gaze in the room turned in your direction. Taehyung was smiling, and, suddenly, you were very aware of him. Shouldn’t have ignored his presence before, because now it was a bit overwhelming. And there’s that flitting feeling... You’d call it a déjà vu, but it would contradict Dr. Kim’s newest theory. He thought that the concept of “déjà vu” was about alternative universes, not about past lives. According to him, déjà vu appears when you experience something that your alternative self lived through a bit earlier. As if they went through life a little faster, but in a moment of deja vu you catch up to them, hit the same point in time and space, then go your barely separate ways. Anyway...

You turned to Namjoon - who looked surprised, but also intrigued - hoping that your eyes screamed for help obviously enough.

“I didn’t realize that they’ve brought me to your hospital,” the man seemed very excited by the encounter, so, at least, he liked you. But how the hell did he know you at all? You opened your mouth (that appeared to be rid of any moisture) to say something, but Namjoon stepped in; probably to prevent you from answering with anything that could confuse or disturb the patient.

“Excuse me, Taehyung. Can I steal your...?” Dr. Kim paused, expecting for Taehyung to finish the sentence, and - oh boy - he did.

“Fiancée,” the man replied happily, a somewhat prideful look adoring his features. Meanwhile, your ability to breathe was packing its bags, ready to travel. A soft gasp - that sounded a lot like ‘fiancée’ - escaped your lips, and you felt someone’s hand on your back, pushing you off the wall. When did you lean against it? Now that you decided to concentrate on it - your legs were obviously shaking.

“Fiancée,” Dr. Kim repeated, physically pushing you out of the room, because your body didn’t seem to cooperate under the severe shock. You could vaguely - very, very... very vaguely - understand what all of it meant, but the right pieces just bounced off each other, not clicking yet. “Fascinating. We’ll be right back,” Namjoon ushered you out, hoping that Taehyung didn’t find your terrified state too suspicious. He couldn’t let this chance go to waste, because for Dr. Kim everything clicked the moment his patient called your name.

“Y/N, do you know him?” he had to make sure that in this life you were absolute strangers. Your lungs came from their brief vacation and worked with full force, as you frantically tried to remember seeing Kim Taehyung’s face before. No memory came up, and, sure, you could forget a face, but certainly not the fact that you were engaged to said face. So you shook your head, confidently enough for Dr. Kim to light up with delight and anticipation. A new discovery was on the way.

“No, I’ve never seen him, and I am not his fiancée,” you denied the fact as if it was an outrageous accusation, when, in reality, everyone knew that the whole thing was just a trick, played on Taehyung by his own fogged mind.

“That’s excellent!” Namjoon was practically jumping on the spot, while your confusion slowly wore off. Very slowly.

“Excellent? Wha- why, why? Why would you-? I wouldn’t use that wo- ...Oh,” and then it hit you. “OH! It means that he knew me in his past life! Holy sh-“

“Yes, precisely! And it also means that you had the same name in your past life, which means that he probably did too!” Dr. Kim was hitting you with conclusions and calculations - rapid fire style - so your inner scientist was simply ecstatic, yet overwhelmed and a bit dizzy. “And it also means that you physically look the same as your previous self! This is unprecedented! You have to play along!” you were nodding along to everything Namjoon was saying. He was so enthusiastic and fired up, it was infectious. But wait-

“Wha- What?!” did you hear him right? “Play along as in... I have to pretend to be his fiancée?” Namjoon exhaled to calm himself down from excitement, before attempting to calm you down from panicking. His hands squeezed your shoulders, but Dr. Kim soon found that it wasn’t enough to ground you. “I have to do everything that it implies? I have to pretend... to be in love?” you whispered the word ‘love’ like it was something forbidden; like faking love is the most sinful and horrible crime to commit.

“Y/N, my dear Y/N, please, hear me out,” Namjoon’s hands altered to cradle your face, and he looked into your eyes as if you were the only one who could help him, save him; like you were the only person that mattered right now, and if the context of his pleas was any less professional, you’d feel weak in the knees. It made sense, though. Dr. Kim was in love with scientific progress, and you were the embodiment of it in that fateful moment. “We can’t destroy his world right now, because we don’t know- ...we can’t predict what it could possibly do to his mind. It could result in a catastrophe. But, more than that, just- ...just imagine how much we can uncover. You already gave me a lot just by standing in the corner of that room. Do this too, please. It could change everything.”

“I... I am not a good actress. And I don’t know anything about him... about us in his... damn it! Our past life. What if he figures it out?” to be completely honest, you were convinced the moment Namjoon started speaking. You’ve never seen anyone so determined and committed. It truly was the work of his life. Right now, your frightened mind just scrambled for more reassurance that, you knew, he could give you.

“It won’t matter to him. You know as well as I do that these patients don’t get suspicious about things ‘not adding up’. You just have to act like you know him and that, yes, you are a woman in love, about to marry the man of her dreams,” Dr. Kim was still pretty close, so you pealed his hands off your face, in case Taehyung came out of his room. He shouldn’t see you in a position that looks far from innocent. Was he a jealous type? Well, you were already in that mindset, might as well... Your head hit the wall with a quiet knock, and you closed your eyes, thinking things over one last time.

“You don’t seem like the kind of student that would have a crush on their professor, so I won’t ask you to do this for me... unless,” he stretched out the sentence, narrowing eyes at you. Suspicion was real. “...you do have a... crush on me?” you snorted at that. His cluelessness was truly adorable. He obviously didn’t know or care about the proper navigation of someone’s romantic advances. And your reaction to it - as if it was such a ridiculous implication (after all, it wasn’t far fetched at all, because a lot of students did have a crush on him) - didn’t hurt the man, even though he said “ouch”. “Okay, then do it for science, Y/N, because I know you care.”

Dr. Kim lifted his hand, and you were split between rolling your eyes and squealing with joy. Here goes nothing.

“For science,” your fist bumped into his, and that sealed it. You were officially science bros with Kim Namjoon.

...

“Were you really ready to use poor girl’s affection towards you? For your own benefit? Shame on you, Dr. Kim.”

“Uhh, not for my benefit? For science?”

...And you were officially engaged to Kim Taehyung.

The hospital staff was immediately informed of your unusual situation, and not being the only one who had to “play along” felt somewhat relaxing. Moving forward, for Taehyung and everyone else (in Taehyung’s presence) you were just a nurse that worked exhausting shifts daily and fulfilled her duties by caring for all sorts of patients. Now you practically lived at the hospital, not only because nurses in the 60s did that, but because Dr. Kim advised you to spend as much time with your new-old fiancé as you could.

You felt like a government spy, and Taehyung was your mission. In some ways, it was true. You were his lovely bride’s evil tween, and your task was to get close to him, because he held some important secrets. Dramatic, yet strangely accurate. His personal file - that also comprised everyone’s notes on the man - served as your desk book, and his parents’ narrative was your bedtime story. You were relieved to find that Taehyung was single, even though his current life didn’t mean a great deal at the moment. The fact that there wasn’t a romantic partner in sight eased your mind considerably. Directing “heart eyes” (even fake ones) at someone else’s lover would be guilt-inducing, surely. You just hoped that his family and friends were informed of his personal life as well as they thought.

This noble scientific swindle was destined to start awkwardly, so you were having an out-of-body experience during every conversation with Taehyung. Lookers-on see most of the game, and you could imagine how easy it was to point out the stiffness of your posture or the rehearsed nature of your sentences. Your own tongue felt heavy and foreign as it moved in your mouth, and, at one point, Namjoon seriously considered paying for acting classes. He couldn’t have you compromising the “mission” by planting seeds of suspicion into Taehyung’s mind. Admittedly, it would be really hard - or even impossible - to do, but your behavior around the patient was just that unnatural and forced.

By good fortune, Taehyung was completely oblivious to your struggles with communication, and, as irony would have it, played a crucial part in making the whole situation less tense. Of course, he did it without even realizing his own contributions to the success of Dr. Kim’s research. With time, you stopped dreading the interaction and your own heavy-handedness, because, when it came down to it, Taehyung was really easy and fun to be around. He had a gift of making people feel joyous, always ready to spark or endure some benignant foolishness. His ardour was infectious, and the man rarely failed in making you laugh.

One month into the “relationship”, you could unhesitatingly confirm that Taehyung was a sweet and caring boyfriend. More than that, you were convinced that the mastermind behind the term “puppy love” was inspired by the look on Taehyung’s face whenever he zoned out, staring at his fiancée - in this case, you - and it had nothing to do with teenagers being in love. The man was quite affectionate (note: understatement of the millennium), and if, at first, his urge to be close to you was restrained by the injuries and prescribed bed rest, now - you could barely find an empty corner and write your daily report for Namjoon. You had to do it while Taehyung was asleep, which wasn’t particularly problematic, since the boy always nudged you to take a nap on his lap the next day, while he read on a bench in the garden. Taehyung tied your tiredness to night shifts, you imagined.

Nonetheless, being his significant other was challenging in unexpected ways, so you still used Taehyung’s injuries as a protective barrier. The bruise on his bottom lip was pretty severe, so kisses were off the table, which saddened the man greatly. Plus, the complete healing was constantly postponed, because Taehyung would always cut the wound open by smiling widely at something cute you did. When an older nurse scolded the boy for making her tend to his poor lip again and again ( ...and again), Taehyung only shrugged and said that his fiancée was simply too adorable and he couldn’t help it. So. No kisses. Less smiling. Once, though, he turned his head at the right time - just as you leaned in to leave a peck on his cheek - resulting in your lips brushing the corner of Taehyung’s mouth, and it was the closest he got to lip locking with you. That little “accident” got the man so excited, he didn’t beg for kisses that week at all.

It was much harder to deprive him of cuddles, though. Not because there were no excuses to avoid them. He had a couple of broken ribs, and it would be painful to even hug tightly. Pushing the man away, keeping him at the arm’s length turned out to be emotionally exhausting and heartbreaking, because Taehyung didn’t hesitate to regularly remind you of how much he loved all the snuggles and cuddles, and how desperately he missed feeling that sort of closeness with you. Every time you left his side, so he could rest, Taehyung pouted playfully, not willing to let go and fall asleep just yet. On more occasions than your heart would like to admit, you gave in - just a little, but it was a big victory for him - and kissed Taehyung’s forehead, not missing the way he sighed deeply and contentedly as your lips pressed to his skin. The boy’s eyes always appeared a little more dreary when you pulled away, and he never omitted a chance to hold onto your hand for a second longer, before giving you a tight smile and a quiet “goodnight, beautiful”. The image never failed to create a lump in your throat. He deserved much more affection in return, but the “you” that could give it to him was long gone.

Your debt to him was becoming unmeasurable by the day, because, through Taehyung, you could also get a glimpse into your past life, without having to injure your head. It was a truly priceless gift, but its destiny was unknown and impossible to predict. Will Taehyung remember any of your time together after he “wakes up”? Will he remember all the love he spent? All the memories of you he shared? There was no way to tell with certainty. Most patients didn’t recall their “confabulation period” at all. They were left with completely blank pages, and no stories to fill those with. Being in a coma would probably be more entertaining and colorful. Yet, some lucky people remembered parts of different lengths. An even smaller percentage of patients - remembered everything.

You didn’t know for which outcome to hope, but you’d be okay with anything as long as Taehyung didn’t feel sad or hurt, or the wrong kind of foolish for giving away so much of himself; all to someone who failed to appreciate that fraction of time with him for what it was: a beautiful and unselfish gift of love. Sometimes you thought that it was your only chance to be loved like that... in this life.

“The 60s you” was obviously a nurse, but you kept discovering new details about her with every visit to Taehyung’s memory bank. He loved reminiscing about the most trivial things, and even the first time he saw you brush your teeth in the morning was special. That’s when Taehyung knew that you felt like home to him. Well, good for you and your notes to Dr. Kim, who was quite pleased with how detailed your reports were. He did point out that the way you wrote about Taehyung felt more... inspired - less formal and more poetic - though, it didn’t come as a surprise to you, because, with time, you became significantly more fascinated with your-past-self’s future husband... if that makes sense.

Kim Taehyung was a pilot, which slightly correlated with his current occupation: aeronautical engineer; although, it didn’t cover solely planes in your time. He seemed to really love the sky, and it reflected in his poetry preferences. Taehyung read and recited poems about the skies the most, be it the blue and fresh early morning or the mysterious starry night that rhymed within their lines. The “hopeless romantic” side of him was utterly endearing, which is why you struggled to hide your shock when his other passion was revealed. Your-60s-self was probably aware of it, so you couldn’t really react when Taehyung confessed that he missed street fighting almost as much as flying. It was hard to imagine Taehyung expressing any sort of aggression, but that particular hobby of his just proved that everyone needed an outlet. The darkness had to go somewhere, and the man not only let it out away from you or the job, but also got some trophies (or prize money) for it.

Later you found out that Taehyung was into a more... civil form of competing. Yes, it was still violent, but somewhat organized and restricted by a set of rules, which made the whole thing less gruesome in your mind. Taehyung was also strangely amazed at how ironic the cause of his injuries was: with duties and interests as dangerous as flying a plane and street fighting, he managed to be knocked out by a plain car crash. He talked about all of it with such ease that the very thing that should’ve pushed you away, made you distant, brought you a new appreciation for the love you once had for each other. Taehyung trusted you enough to let in on that secret, and you loved him enough to except that dangerous hobby of his. You must’ve been sure that he was worth it.

Yet, while you cherished the love itself, your young heart still couldn’t grasp what your old soul already knew, already lived. Multiple times, it could be. What could create a bond so strong, so powerful that it surfaced through Taehyung several lifetimes later? You couldn’t find the answer with the way you’ve been approaching the mystery so far. Your mind was so completely focused on the words that came out of Taehyung’s mouth, you failed to look past them. Subliminal messages got lost between the lines, because the information for research was your priority. And, even though Dr. Kim praised your reports, there were things about Taehyung that skipped your attention. Some of them were gearing up to hit you in the face pretty soon.

It was a very busy day at the hospital. Several new patients arrived, all with signs of confabulation, but their physical injuries had to be treated first, which made all the real nurses occupied and unavailable to do Taehyung’s scheduled re-bandaging. You’ve seen it done enough times on different patients to know the drill, so you didn’t think twice before agreeing to perform the procedure on your fiancé. Come to think of it, you were never present when his bandages were changed. Every time you went to remind him or ask, he’d already done it.

“Y/N?! What- What are you doing here?” Taehyung stuttered, wide-eyed, as you burst into his room with fresh bandages and other necessary supplies in hands. The man looked panicked, but you decided to write it off as the initial surprise.

“I will be changing your bandages today,” you practically sang and turned to the table for preparations, missing the way your uncharacteristically cheerful mood went completely unnoticed by Taehyung... ironically. On any other day he would eagerly channel, harbor and try his gosh-darn best to increase that rare excited lilt in your voice. He’d strive to make it last as long as possible... Not today, though.

“Are- Are you sure no one else can do it?” the man kept stumbling over his words, voice sounding painfully small, but it still wasn’t enough for you to get suspicious.

“Why? Don’t you trust me? I’m hurt,” you feigned offense, playful to a fault, but the tease went right over Taehyung’s head, who appeared oblivious and rushed to assure you that-

“No, no. Of course, I trust you...,” the sentence faded away as if he mumbled it under his breath, to himself, and the words felt so heavy with worry and nervousness that your movements faded as well, brows furrowing in confusion. You slowly turned to look at him - really look at him - for the first time since stepping into the room. The man before you clearly couldn’t decide what to do with his body, constantly shifting on the bed, not knowing where to place his hands or how to successfully escape your gaze... or his own skin, it seemed. Eventually, Taehyung crossed his arms, protectively hugging himself. You’ve never seen him so tense.

“Tae? Are you sure you’re alright? I’ve seen you shirtless... right?” you chuckled humorlessly, not even buying that that could be the reason for his behavior. Or could it? Why was he acting like this? Was your marriage arranged? Did you agree not to have sex before the wedding? It seemed- felt unlikely, but, before you could spiral into a full on panic mode, he answered...

“Yeah! ... Yeah, let’s just- let’s just do it,” he swallowed, reaching for the hem of his shirt with trembling fingers. You didn’t realize you held your breath until it whooshed out, all at once, at the sight of his bare torso.

In that moment, certain, relatively ordinary for a hospital patient phrases came rushing back to you. “I miss fighting, but with the way my body aches, it feels like I still do it every day”, Taehyung would joke, and your psychoanalytic brain would only highlight the ‘i miss fighting’ part of it, because that gave you new (and quite shocking) information. Now, though, you cursed at your own ability to pay attention to all the wrong details, because it should’ve been obvious. He was in pain.

You stepped closer, taking in all the bruises that covered his upper body. If they were fading now, what was it like before? The mere thought of it and the flashing images made you lightheaded, though they weren’t the main reason why your knees hit the floor in front of him.

“Taehyung-,“ you gasped, reaching out to touch his stomach gently. The man hissed at the sting, but you didn’t move your hand away, only willed it to be even gentler. His presence was a miracle in more ways than one now, because he shouldn’t have survived a crash that left him in so many shades of purple. Not only his soul was a traveler, but his body seemed to have gone through so much as well.

“I didn’t want you to see this,” the man sighed and shook his head in defeat, not looking up to meet your eyes that, he imagined, were wide with horror. They were.

You blinked away the tears, stood up and quickly moved to get the bandages. Suddenly, you wished they were made from the softest material imaginable. They weren’t, but it just meant that you and your hands had to be as careful as ever. Butterfly wings had to have nothing on your fingers. Without realizing it, you promised yourself that he wouldn’t feel a thing as you worked.

Unfortunately, like most things, it was easier said than done, and, even though, you stepped in Taehyung’s direction with determination to soothe his aching body, your lack of experience with “real” nursing tasks was bound to ruin the plan. You weren’t sure what kind of pressure to apply or what was the best way to wrap bandages around his torso, which, combined with the overall painful nature of the procedure, only interrupted the quietness of the room with Taehyung’s grunts and hisses, always followed by his strained “it’s okay, keep going”. Your hands froze every time he made a distressed sound, but, when a number of them crossed what seemed like a hundred, you only wished to finish faster.

The less bandages there were left - the more concentrated you became, finally finding your groove. Later, it would feel like an out of body experience. Like you’ve done this before, or, rather, your soul did, and it took the reigns in that moment, not asking for permission. You moved around Taehyung with much more swiftness, getting lost in your own repetitive movements. One roll of stretchy fabric later, you were ready to tie the final knot over his right shoulder. Taehyung moaned in pain, again, when you applied more pressure to make the knot tighter, and the next words escaped your mouth before you could think about it.

“I’m sorry, baby. It’s almost done,” your soul seemed to take over you completely. The phrase slipped out so naturally, you appeared right where he was - in your shared past life. Taehyung turned to look at you; so fast, you thought you heard his neck crack. And you realized why the man was stunned, yet, strangely, you didn’t feel the urge to be surprised about it as well. This moment felt too right to ruin it with stuttering excuses.

“What?” you asked innocently, referring to his wide eyes and the fact that his mouth was hanging open. The boy blinked a couple of times, still unmoving, but when you shrugged and moved again to check if the bandages were wrapped around him comfortably, Taehyung snapped out of it.

“You didn’t call me that- baby in awhile,” he paused, looking down at his lap. “I missed it,” Taehyung wished you didn’t say it now; not when he felt so undeserving of it. From where you were standing, though, he deserved to be called the sweetest of names all year long.

You circled the bed to stand in front of him. When Taehyung didn’t look up, guilt radiating off of him, your fingers reached for his chin to gently brush and tilt it up. Your eyes locked with his, and you felt your soul flutter... No. You felt your soul shudder as it desperately gulped for air after being suffocated under miles and miles of water for the longest time. You guessed, it was because you looked at him with a clear, unselfish purpose for the very first time.

“Don’t hide things like that from me again,” you said - quietly, yet firmly - right before your throat started to tighten with emotions under the intensity of his gaze. He looked back earnestly, like he couldn’t believe the sight. He couldn’t believe that he got to see you like that: brave and terrified, determined and vulnerable. So beautiful. Still, he didn’t deserve it. But he would take in every detail, until his own eyes would start to water, matching yours. After all, he was just as terrified and just as brave as you were. Just as beautiful.

The air was charged with rawest intimacy, yet, it felt empty. Not void of emotion or meaning, no. Quite the opposite. It simply felt freeing. Like you could spread your arms and spin, and you wouldn’t bump into a bed, a table, chairs. Your wild limbs wouldn’t touch a thing. You didn’t dare move and explore this vacuum, though, because, when it came down to it, you’d much rather spend every moment of that freedom next to him. You were zoned in on each other. Cocooned in this blissful nothingness that was supposed to make you shiver, make your skin crawl, and still, you felt warm... like your souls were hugging.

Suddenly, it wasn’t enough, and soon Taehyung’s hands were on your waist, guiding you closer. Your shaky knees nearly buckled, when the man buried his face in your stomach, wrapping the whole length of his arms around you and holding you tightly. A bated gasp escaped your lungs, but even your heartbeat slowed down and got quiet as soon as you realized that Taehyung was mumbling something into the material of your white coat. You could tell by the waves of warm air spreading against your belly and his lips moving to let it out. It tickled a little, but you managed to make out a couple of phrases. “I’m sorry” and “I won’t”.

In that moment, you felt beyond any time any place. It was scary and felt so immeasurably bigger than both of you. Did Taehyung sense it as well? Did his soul? Your fingers reached for his hair, running through it, and you felt an exhale against your core - trembling with relief - like he was going crazy without your touch, and now was on the verge of insanity, because he finally felt it. You smiled, letting the tears fall freely on top of his head. Your mind wasn’t quite set on why you felt like crying for hours. Were you just deprived of such pure human contact for so long, or was your soul crying in a mix of pain and happiness at having him so close again?

“You worry about me so much as it is. I didn’t want to add to it,” Taehyung pulled away a little, his chin still attached to you, and looked up. He seemed miserable and exhausted, making you wonder if he felt this way too often lately and was just really good at hiding it. But then, from a different perspective, he looked at ease and, somehow, younger. His eyes appeared less clouded, almost crystalline, and, for what it’s worth, you were happy that Taehyung didn’t have to mask his feelings anymore. Not from you. For as long as this incarnation of him would stay here.

“You are a miracle,” you whispered as your fingers left his hair, sliding down to cradle his face instead. This phrase belonged to multiple versions of you - to “the scientists” you, to “the 60s nurse” you, to “the fiancée” you - but, ultimately, it belonged to your soul. Taehyung’s eyes widened for a split second, giving away his surprise at your words, but then a brilliant smile spread across the man’s features. He smiled like he realized something you didn’t, you couldn’t, because he was in this relationship with you for much longer, so he studied you that much closer. Now, it seemed ridiculous that you ever felt more aware of things than him, when you only knew one thing - his condition - and Taehyung has lived years by your side.

“I missed you calling me that too,” he said teasingly and placed a quick kiss to the inner side of your wrist. You said that to him before? Wow, you really did, didn’t you? Of course. “Although, it would usually be ‘you are my miracle’, but we’ll get there again.”

Again. So he noticed the change, the setback. He felt the distance you’ve put between them. Taehyung might have been oblivious to the fact that the books he read were from another century, but he was attuned to you and your moods this whole time. Did your behavior confuse him? How did he explain it to himself? Did he suspect that something wasn’t right? Just like that, the research was on your mind again...

And, just like that, you also realized that that research wouldn’t be your priority anymore when it came to Taehyung. Taehyung himself would become your main focus. Not only his words would concern you, not only the information he gives you to fill out reports, but his feelings, his well-being, his heart.

You promised yourself to keep Taehyung’s heart safe, dreading the fact that he was probably right. You will get there. One day, you will want to call him yours, and that will become your downfall.

After what could only be described as a life changing experience you felt the shift. You felt your soul move for Taehyung whenever he was near. It arched stubbornly towards his soul, kicking and screaming, like it wanted to hug its newfound lover again. You felt your heart beat faster every time he smiled at you. This relationship danced on the verge of being too real for comfort and was destined to end in a catastrophe, given the speed at which your affection for Taehyung was growing. Hell, sometimes you had to physically pinch yourself to keep from daydreaming about your shared past life. You found yourself wondering, quite frequently, if those versions of the two of you really loved each other till their dying days. Or did they divorce years later? No, that didn’t feel right. Could you Google that?

It didn’t help that Taehyung felt the shift as well. He started to initiate more physical contact without fearing your rejection, and you didn’t have it in you to push him away anymore. So you just held you breath every time his hand casually slid down your back and stayed on the small of it, all while he quietly watched you fill out fake reports at the nursing station. Eventually, seeing your frustration with the task, he’d start to rub your lower back in soothing circles, which made you relax almost instantly. It’s like he knew exactly what you needed... He knew you.

Sometimes (and it started to happen more often as the time went on), you forgot to separate your past and present lives from each other, eagerly listening to Taehyung’s stories like they were all a part your grand character ark. You saw yourself as the manifestation of all the previous incarnations, finding that you always agreed with your own views on life and love, and the world... however different those worlds may have been.

You grew more curious with each passing day, gradually becoming fascinated not only with Taehyung, but with his version of you. You liked her. She seemed wiser then than you were now, and you wondered which path she took to become that at this age. She was impressive. A lifetime ago “you” had enough courage to change your career’s direction halfway through college, from journalism to medicine, realizing you wanted to take care of people the way you helped Taehyung through some rough fighting aftermaths. You still loved to do research and write, and the boy confessed that watching you mull over the right order of words was very calming.

At least, “the current you” was wise enough to bite her tongue and not ask Taehyung and excessive amount of questions... most of the time. Yes, he wouldn’t bet an eye and just rationalize your curiosity, coming up with an explanation on his own (you had a feeling that he often settled on “a semi-subtle check-up of his memory for a medical record”), but Namjoon gave you specific instructions that you had to follow... or try to follow. It was hard when Taehyung lit up like a Christmas tree every time you answered “fine” to his question of “how are you today, beautiful?” That’s an odd reaction, right? So you had to ask. As it turned out, a couple of years ago you and Taehyung came to a conclusion that being “fine” is way better than being “great! excellent! happy!” Why? Because every time you feel happy, inevitably, you also feel that ounce of fear that that feeling will soon end.

“I am always a little scared when I’m with you, though,” he confessed, and you felt your heart skip a bit. That goddamn charmer! What was even more infuriating is his complete obliviousness to the fact that one of the most romantic and smooth lines just came out of his mouth. Taehyung simply kept watching you with a gentle smile on his lips, absolutely loving the way you didn’t seem to know what to do with yourself. You kept avoiding his gaze, looking everywhere, but mostly at your lap. You were blushing furiously, all the way to the tips of your ears. And you were smiling so wide, you had to bite down on your lip to suppress it. Your painfully endearing shyness seemed to have awakened a strange sense of déjà vu within him, and you heard Taehyung hum softly beside you.

“What?” you asked, finally being able to look at him directly.

“I don’t know,” the man shrugged, reaching out to play with your hair. “Somehow, it just felt like when we first started dating.”

A sudden gust of nostalgia for something you’ve never known, never experienced hit you in the chest, quickly spreading to engulf your whole body and making you gasp in surprise. Anemoia’s the word, right? Dr. Kim was writing a paper on it at the moment. You could definitely help him with some interesting insight now, because your entire being was lovingly placed into another time and space. Almost the way a song that played at your prom takes you back to the night, so your body is momentarily tricked into believing that you are actually there.

Only it wasn’t a song this time, it was a person. It was Taehyung that lead you to that feeling and made it last for more than a split second. You could taste the difference on the tip of your tongue as if the air around you really shifted into something tangible and full of memories. And you remembered how it felt to simply exist back then. How it felt to be you, living in your skin in another time... And it was your second or third date, yet you could still feel the butterflies just looking at him. Faint jazz music suddenly reached your ears, and you wanted to hum a tune that you’ve never heard before.

Was it where Taehyung’s mind went? Did you feel the right things? You couldn’t possibly be sure, but nostalgia was never this striking or lasted that long.

“You fully intend to keep making me fall for you, don’t you?” Taehyung whispered mindlessly, as if to himself, but the implication left you more breathless then seemed possible. There was a negative amount of air in your lungs now. “Over and over again,” he was closer somehow, fingers brushing your neck without a specific intention. He was just submitting to the pull he always felt near you. The one that makes you move and touch, and watch intently. It’s when you register every drop of her eyelashes, yet you don’t seem to notice yourself leaning in. The movement is barely there, but oh wow, it’s impactful. “I have to say, I don’t mind one bit.”

You feel his words on your lips now. They are full of breath that you lack, and it would be almost too delicious to make him share it. You had the chance to be selfish in the most acceptable and pleasant way. But... You simply wouldn’t come back from it. You would be going for seconds every chance you got. But...

You make him fall deeper in love? This you? This present-time-you? The thought was dangerous with how flattering it was, making your heart stutter. Taehyung’s eyes were already closed and he was angling his head slightly, looking like the angel he is. Gentle, even if a little impatient. Meanwhile, you felt like a mess. Overwhelmed and very conflicted. You swallowed and shut your eyes tightly, already scowling at what you were about to do. And when did your breath come back, making your chest heave this heavily?

“Tae?”

“Yes?” he sounded so shaken by mere anticipation, you had to keep yourself from whining and giving in. It was just cruel how undeniable his need for you was.

“I need to go back to work,” the broken exhale that he let out was bound to haunt your dreams. You didn’t look back as you walked away.

You couldn’t figure him out. You couldn’t “predict” him. It seemed like he instinctively dodged every romantic comedy cliche. There were countless melodramatic tropes paved for him, but he always chose to swerve and draw his own patterns. You imagined, he was always the kid that, on his way home from school, would be tempted to mark the perfect white canvas of fresh snow with his footprints - and would do it too, eventually, dragging his feet through the deep drifts - while everyone else just followed the padded path.

Taehyung didn’t seem upset or hurt. He didn’t question your escape nor did he try to make you feel guilty about it. As if the boy refused to see that hurried exit of yours as the door being shut in his face, and, instead, saw it as your trauma of almost loosing him melting away a little more. To Taehyung, your soul needed just a little more convincing before letting him in again and trusting that nothing will happen that could put his life at risk. Not if he could help it.

Apparently, the key point of his strategy was to remind you of how good and fun you were together, often acting like teenagers in love with total disregard for whether the time and place were appropriate. Yet, your displays of affection never crossed the line into something provocative or deprecated. True to his pure and innocent nature, Taehyung’s “moves” always looked playful and, dare you say, cute in everyone’s eyes, with your overflowing fondness towards each other making people around you go “aww”.

And the boy would definitely be lying if he said that your flustered appearance and blushing cheeks didn’t make it that much more fun for him.

“You should be more careful next time, Mrs. Lee,” since you were helping with Taehyung’s bandages more often and leveled up your nursing skills training on him, it wasn’t a rare occurrence for you to look after other patients as well.

“I know, dear. I guess the kettle was just too heavy for me,” the old woman sighed as you wrapped her burnt wrist carefully. Mrs. Lee was a sweet lady - always put together and endlessly welcoming - but a bit too clumsy for her own good. It was her third minor injury this week. Previously, she managed to hit her toe against the bed frame and get a pretty nasty paper cut on her thumb. Ouch. Her soul thought it was 1920s, so maybe people were more careless about their health back then.

“There you are!” Taehyung’s booming voice entered the room before the man himself burst inside, and you didn’t miss the way Mrs. Lee’s eyes lit up. She adored him. Everyone did. “Good morning, Mrs. Lee! New day - new adventure, I see. I’m glad you keep my fiancée on her toes,” Tae winked, and you heard the woman actually giggle. The power he possessed was truly boundless.

“I do what I can,” Mrs. Lee was full on beaming now - bright and happy - the pain in her wrist seemingly forgotten. You smiled to yourself too, finishing up the procedure.

“Mornin’, beautiful,” Taehyung lowered his voice, and it took less than a second for you to start blushing. Blood rushed to your face somewhere between his breath hitting your ear and his lips briefly pressing to your temple. You were used to a lot of “Taehyung things” by this point (barely): holding Taehyung’s hand, brushing Taehyung’s hair while he slept, Taehyung’s fingers dancing across your back while you worked. Always teasing. Sometimes tickling. Like right now. Up and down. Up and down. Down. Down, down. Wait, what?

“Taehyung!” you gasped. He pinched you! He pinched your butt!

Your hand flew to cup the “violated area” (on pure reflex) as you turned, wide-eyed, to Taehyung, who was clearly trying his best to stifle the fit of giggles. He had the audacity to look surprised by your animated reaction, like it wasn’t his intention all along. Oh, he was so amused! The boy quickly hid his hands behind his back as if trying to dispose of the evidence, but you were already on a mission to give him a piece of your mind.

“Out!” you grabbed Taehyung’s arm and proceeded to drag him out of the room, unwilling to scold the men in front of another patient.

“Mrs. Lee, save me!” he pleaded, not really trying to put up a fight, even though he definitely could.

“You are on your own, young man,” the older lady just laughed and, rather entertained, waved the two of you a goodbye.

“What the hell, Taehyung?” you whisper-screamed as soon as the door closed behind him. Your “disapproving wife” mode was all the way on, and you didn’t even know it was a part of your settings in the first place. Taehyung took in your crossed arms and furrowed eyebrows, feeling strangely endeared. Let’s keep it going for a bit, he thought. “That was really inappropriate!”

“Well, if you didn’t scream like that, she wouldn’t even notice. So, objectively, this is your fault,” he argued, mimicking your irritated posture.

“Objective- !? Don’t do this around other patients!” you hissed back, now vaguely aware of the fact that Taehyung was probably messing with you.

“Does it mean I can do it when we are alone?” the boy not-at-all-subtly wiggled his (gorgeous) eyebrows and stepped closer, placing his hands on your waist.

“Well, not anytime soon. You’ve ruined it for yourself,” you were still frowning - in a desperate attempt to appear mad - but your lips were starting to angle up in a smile, treacherously so.

“You are mean,” he pouted. Well, that’s not fair.

“And you are childish.”

“You like it though,” somewhere, in the back of your mind, you were painfully aware of how it all looked. Your palms rested peacefully on his chest, and you smiled at each other without saying a word, yet understanding everything. ‘I do like it. I can’t help it.’ You were in love. Really, really, really in love. “And you are right. It was inappropriate. I’m sorry. I just wanted to tease you and took it too far. It won’t happen again.”

“Thank you,” you sighed and leaned forward, so his lips effortlessly pressed to your forehead. You were so screwed.

After escaping Taehyung’s warm embrace (quite reluctantly), you snuck back into the room. The door clicked upon closing, and you were met Mrs. Lee’s knowing smile.

“Is Taehyung in trouble?” she asked, but, if your own tender smile was any indication, he very obviously wasn’t. You still shook your head ‘no’ and averted your eyes, suddenly shy. The woman laughed quietly at your timidity, while you busied yourself with her wrist. Taehyung’s little “tease” interrupted your work in quite a dramatic way, so you weren’t even sure if the task was completed properly. “Be glad he’s still playful. That boy has eyes only for you. I can tell.”

If you were blushing before, now your face caught on fire. It was one thing to experience Taehyung’s absolute devotion yourself, but to have it pointed out by someone else was another feeling entirely. Once again, you couldn’t help but think that your past-life-self got really lucky with him. Oh.

“How did he propose?” the question halted your movements for a split second. Oh. How did he propose? That’s right. You didn’t know. Because it wasn’t to you. The blush on your cheeks fainted, and you suddenly felt cold. It was so easy to smile just a second ago, but now you had to put in a tremendous effort in order to appear unaffected. Though, if you listened closely, you could still feel your soul sighing in content from having Taehyung so near and so warm, and not so long ago. A bittersweet feeling, but it helped.

“It’s almost time for your check up with Dr. Kim. How about we save that story for later?”

Mrs. Lee nodded, a little upset, and you couldn’t blame her. You’d love to hear all about it yourself. It would hurt even more, sure, but if you were to bet your life on anything, you’d bet it on Taehyung organizing the most wonderful and romantic proposal in the history of mankind. You didn’t dare coming up with something of your own right now, because it simply wouldn’t compare.

Millions of thoughts and questions flooded your mind even before you left Mrs. Lee’s room. It wasn’t really you Taehyung was in love with. Of course, it wasn’t. It was another girl that shared your soul and looked like you. But then... Were you essentially your soul? Did it matter what life made of the rest of you? Was Taehyung in love with your soul exclusively? He said it himself. He was falling deeper in love with you.

Taehyung’s beloved soul was your soul. It was just a lifetime older than he thought.

“Y/N?” Namjoon’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts, and, after looking around for a second, you numbly discovered that your feet didn’t carry the rest of your body too far away from the door. “You okay?”

You nodded, but he didn’t seem convinced. The man was probably on his way to Mrs. Lee, so you had to pull yourself together as to not hold him up.

“Could you, please, stop by my office later? I’d like to talk to you.”

“Sure,” you managed a verbal response this time. Short and sweet. Nice job all around, but it still earned you a concerned look from Namjoon. He regarded you for another moment, then nodded, disappearing behind the door a second later.

You probably should’ve blinked at least once.

It turned out that Dr. Kim unintentionally witnessed the quiet and sweet moment you shared with Taehyung outside Mrs. Lee’s room. The hospital hall could be considered a public place, so the display of affection wasn’t meant to be hidden, yet, Namjoon felt as if he was prying on an intimate exchange. That foreign feeling made him stop and pay attention to something besides science (though, implicitly, the issue at hand was related to it), which said a lot. He was notoriously unaware of... He was notoriously unaware. Period.

That, combined with faint mental notes he made while reading your reports, pushed Dr. Kim to invite you to his office for a private conversation. The way your descriptions of Taehyung’s past and present increased in poetic value as the time went on never really bothered Namjoon, because he could always work around that and still get a lot of valuable information. Plus, your expressiveness made it into a good read.

Your every word became more vibrant and meaningful after he saw the way you looked at your fiancé. You were a terrible actress, and no one knew it better than Kim Namjoon. The man wasn’t being overly dramatic when he confessed to having nightmares in which your acting was so bad that it made Taehyung “snap out of it” and leave. Namjoon bet a lot on you.

It was supposed to be a game of pretend, and he had to make sure it was still the case for you. Was Dr. Kim doing it for science? The man wasn’t sure himself. His research could still become groundbreaking, whether your heart ended up broken or not, but Namjoon just couldn’t stay unaware this time around. So now you were passing from wall to wall in his office, trying not to panic. Trying and failing.

"How much longer will I have to play along? He wants... to do stuff, you know? I am his fiancée,” Namjoon glanced up from his papers, slight alarm in his gaze, so you hurried to clarify. “No, he doesn’t say or do anything. I just feel it.”

"Just tell him he's too weak for that," Dr. Kim shrugged, but then paused for a moment. It’s been a little less than three months. Taehyung was almost completely healthy. “Wait, actually, just tell him that it's against hospital policy. Or both.”

"That's what I tell him, but he's just so damn eager and responsive to everything I do! Not in a gross way, but still! What if he never comes back from it? What if I-,” fall in love before he wakes up? You didn’t finish the thought out loud, but your breathing was rushed and uneven, so he knew. He’s observant at the very least, but it’s more than that. You both knew. Namjoon was surprised at himself, and you were surprised to see his eyes so full of untapped emotion. He looked a little sad, but mostly worried. Maybe a tad bit apologetic. You hoped you imagined a drop of regret in the mix, because that’s what you didn’t feel, despite hurting.

"Do you like him?"

I’m in love with him.

"I do,” you said, defeated, yet, somehow, relieved by acceptance and the openness. For a split second you got scared that Namjoon would pull the plug on the research. “But let me do this. I will never hold it against you.”

The man appeared conflicted, but not nearly enough to drop all the progress you’ve made. To put the work of his life on hold. And you wouldn’t let Namjoon do it, even if he was ready to quit for your sake. You were his partner in crime, just as involved, and your “timeless lover” didn’t make you forget that. At least your heart would be broken for science.

"His feelings for you are not real. Not in this life. Please, remember that and be careful, Y/N".

Yeah. It was a little too late for that.

Maybe you overestimated your own determination to finish the research, or maybe it was harder not to pretend and be in love, with clear mind and a heavy heart. Maybe it was harder to accelerate, knowing that you were gonna crash. That, eventually, Taehyung would come to his senses and leave to live his life.

Truth be told, you hoped it would happen sooner than later. Preferably before you married him, had kids and grew old together. Imagine trying to explain to someone where their whole life went and why another version of them got to live two.

To say that you were torn would be an understatement. Oh, how you wanted to just give in and love him, and be loved! It was agonizing, ironically so, because you couldn’t help but see it as the foreshadowing of the day that his love would be taken away from you, whether you decided to let yourself have it or not.

Your scale was looking more and more like the game of seesaw, refusing to balance, constantly tipping one way or the other. You went from being playful and engaged (no pun intended) to appearing cold and distant to everyone around you, not only Tae. The uncertainty was exhausting, to the point where you missed the days of just being awkward and nervous around “Taehyung the Patient”. Back when your love for him was only a memory that your mind would never be able recall, because, up until this point, it only echoed in the depths of your old soul.

There was no end to this back and forth, it seemed. But when, one day, you saw the way your internal turmoil affected the one you cherished the most, it became exceptionally easy to make a choice.

“Tae, I am leaving for the day,” you cracked open the door to his room and quickly scanned the space to make sure he was there. The lights were off, but as soon as your eyes got used to it, you found Taehyung standing by the window. It wasn’t an unusual sight, since he loved to admire the night sky every chance he got. The moon was full and visible for the first time in weeks, so, of course, the man was there to appreciate it in all its glory.

“See you tomorrow?”

On nights like this you always tried to say goodbye and make your exit swiftly, leaving Taehyung to have his moment of peace, but this time the boy’s profile didn’t seem serene to you. There was no dreamy smile playing on his lips. His eyes weren’t traveling from star to star, looking for constellations. Instead, his lips were stretched thin and pale, and probably bitten in worry. You could see that he was frowning, but the blank look in his eyes was the most concerning.

“Tae?” when he didn’t answer again, you stepped further into the room. The door creaked unpleasantly, pulling Taehyung from his thoughts. At the sight of you something in him moved, but stayed still. It felt like his soul immediately reached out for yours, and, for the first time, he didn’t let its urges guide him. The realization terrified you. He was uncertain. You hated it.

“Hey. Sorry, I didn’t hear you. Are you leaving?” Taehyung asked. He understood that you had to go home sometime, yet, it didn’t make him miss your presence less. The boy never wanted you to leave, and it was always obvious. Except now. Taehyung wasn’t sure if he wanted you to stay, because he wasn’t sure if you’d rather go. He hated it.

“Um, yeah. I was about to head out,” your thumb pointed towards the exit, but you proceeded to move forward and soon stopped, facing Taehyung by the window. “Is everything okay?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t-“

“Tae,” you cut in, suddenly desperate to resolve whatever was troubling him. “You can tell me,” when your fingers moved across the windowsill to touch his, Taehyung held his breath, because you never really initiated physical contact before. Not like this. Your touch was always meant to comfort or calm him. You never did it, because you yourself craved the closeness. “Please, tell me.”

“It’s you,” Taehyung breathed, and your fingers froze millimeters away from his. It broke the boy’s heart a little, but he couldn’t keep his own muddle to himself anymore. Because you did initiate touches before. You were utterly selfish and demanding when it came to keeping him close, and it was so very charming, he couldn’t stand being away. Taehyung felt needed. Sadly, that car crash seemed to have broken something between you. And it split his life in two.

“I don’t recognize you,” for a moment you thought that his old memories were leaving him, confabulation gradually wearing off, but no. The memories of two lives weighed him down, conflicting and contradicting each other. It pained you to see him so lost.

“And I don’t feel like you recognize me, either. Most of the time you look at me like I am a stranger,” Taehyung’s voice started wavering, confused and sorrowful, as if the boy never imagined that he would be saying this to you. Your fingers moved again, completely on their own, to touch him. To comfort him. “At first I thought that, maybe, you were just in shock after the accident. Maybe, you thought you were going to lose me. And I get it, I do. I can see that you still love me,” oh, thank God, he saw it. You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself, if he lost his faith in your love - the only thing he wholeheartedly connected to in this world, in this time. “But it’s been months of up and downs, and I don’t understand, and- it’s just starting to hurt.“

Taehyung gasped a couple of seconds before your lips met his, because it was only the third of the things you did. First, you intertwined your fingers and tugged him closer. Second, your right hand flew up to rest on the back of his neck, pulling him down. Third. The moment fell into complete stillness as you stayed there, unmoving, with your lips pressed together way too tightly. If he was going to feel your kiss for the first time in months, you were going to make it count. You wanted it to leave a mark on his heart, deep enough to reach his soul.

And maybe that kiss felt like trying too hard at first - because, admittedly, you were a little desperate to heal his doubtful mind - but it all clicked into place, when his fingertips reached to touch the side of your face. Still unsure and nervous, but slowly starting to believe that it was really happening. In that moment, you heard your soul whisper something not so secret: it, and you, already knew how to kiss him right. You knew how to kiss Taehyung to make him smile. You knew how to kiss him to drive him crazy with want. You knew. So you pulled back to lessen the pressure, letting your lips move smoothly and tenderly against his. You knew how to kiss Taehyung to make him feel loved.

"Do I kiss the same?” you asked, breathless, hoping against all hope that you really did kiss his lips right now just as you kissed him a lifetime ago. The man swallowed shakily, nodding his head. Taehyung didn’t move away, not even a little, as if he simply missed the feeling of your breath on his skin. To him, there was something so singular and intimate about the face-to-face, skin-to-skin closeness and sharing the same air, that you never even had the “big spoon/little spoon discussion”. The pair of you always fell asleep and woke up facing each other, morning breath be damned.

“Yes. Yes, you do,” his hands cupped your face - understandably urgent, but still so very gentle - and he dove right back into the kiss. You had no choice but to keep up, because Taehyung seemed determined to have all the wasted time made up for. It wasn’t long before he lost himself in you: hands in your hair, fingers and thumbs; deep little sighs and sweet noises against your lips. The way Taehyung moved became almost chaotic as he tried to find some balance between holding you close and not breaking his ribs all over again.

While Taehyung was quick to melt into the kiss, you took your time, letting the inevitable impact build and build under your skin - with every slide of his lips, with every touch of his fingers - to, eventually, hit you all at once like a tidal wave. Taehyung wasn’t exploring you like this for the first time, (even though, judging by how eager he was, you wouldn’t be able to tell), but to you, in this body at least, it was the first. And, oh, what an absolutely maddening ride. To top it all off, you forgot to take into consideration that, as well as you knew how to make his body tick, Taehyung was just as knowledgeable about your weaknesses. Within minutes, naturally, he managed to make you mewl and pant, and tremble against him.

“Tae,” your attempt to pull away failed, so his name got muffled by his own mouth. You smiled at his unwillingness to stop kissing, but tried again, pushing lightly at his chest. Nightshift nurses took their duty seriously. “Tae, we should stop.”

The man made a faint noise of disapproval at the loss of contact, but nodded and gave you some space. It felt as if your lips would never stop buzzing.

“Sorry, it’s just,” he paused, catching his breath, and no one could understand him better than you. That was intense. “It’s been so long.”

Taehyung’s hold on your waist tightened, and you could feel those words coming. The anticipation in your chest was tangible, yet you’ve never felt more content.

“I love you.”

…

“I love you, too.”

Looking back, yes, it should have been an awkward interaction for you. By all accounts. Faking affection towards someone you barely knew, just to get data. Ridiculous. But… If someone asked you about it right now, you’d say that pretending to be in love with him was the easiest thing you ever had to do.

So you let yourself love Taehyung for another day. For another week. Trusted him with your heart completely, without caution or doubt. Became adorably clingy, just the way he remembered you. Whatever common sense that was left in your system was used to dodge the wedding plans discussions, and it was easier, too, because you could just kiss the boy into silence, and he would never complain about that or suspect anything. Taehyung just figured, you missed him just as much as he missed you. But, oh, how you wanted to indulge in those discussions sometimes.

Namjoon still tried his best to forewarn and protect you, but, at the same time, he understood that it wasn’t his choice to make anymore or his place to judge your decision. All he could do was go through your daily reports and gather all information possible. No one could halt the research, simply because it became more than just a research to you. Namjoon did hope, though, that it would come to an end before the point where your heartbreak overshadowed the triumph of science.

And it did.

“I will love you forever,” he said the night before, as a goodbye you both thought would only last till morning. You smiled, letting him kiss your forehead, and replied: “You better.”

Your coat wasn’t even off yet, when you spotted Namjoon coming out of Taehyung’s room. He was smiling to himself as he closed the door, and then his eyes found yours. Slowly, you moved towards him, even though Namjoon didn’t call. Not with words or gestures at least. The man’s smile turned into something undefinable, an anxious mix of dread and hopefulness. You finally stopped in front of him, eyes pleading.

“He’s back,” Namjoon said, clearly, but why did it also sound like “He’s gone” to you? That must have been the somber undertones in his voice.

“Oh,” you exhaled, fumbling with buttons on your jacket. Okay. It’s alright. You knew this was coming.

“He wants to talk to you,” the man continued, and, before you could panic, his hand landed on your shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You are going to be fine.”

Namjoon looked deep into your wide, petrified eyes and smiled again, a lot warmer this time. His other hand lifted fluidly, and you followed its direction to breathe in... and breathe out.

“Y/N,” Namjoon called, finally getting your gaze to focus on him. “Thank you. For everything.”

Your eyes suddenly watered, and you couldn’t help but smile at the man. He was your clarity and reason in all this madness.

“No problem, Dr. Kim,” you raised your fist for him to bump, making the lovely dimples appear on his cheeks. “For science,” Namjoon laughed at that, and quickly bumped your awaiting fist, before wrapping you in a tight hug.

“For science.”

“Hey,” the door creaked right as you said that, making your whole body wince. Great start. It’s wasn’t a loud hey in the first place, so you prepared to say it again, oblivious to the fact that Taehyung’s attention was already on you.

“Hey,” he echoed, straightening up a little. No longer oblivious, you let yourself look at him. He was sitting on the bed with a book in his hands, and you noted that it was opened on one of the later pages. He didn’t start from the beginning, but continued reading it. “Please, come in.”

The boy crossed his legs, making more room for you on the bed, but you moved to stand at the foot of it. He didn’t question your choice of position, wisely deciding to give you some much needed space. In that moment, it suddenly hit you that only yesterday you could come in and practically jump into his arms, starting Taehyung’s morning with a kiss. It wasn’t the case anymore.

A moment of awkward silence stretched through the air, but, eventually, you gathered enough courage to speak first.

“Do you remember-"

"I remember everything," Taehyung deadpanned, and you nodded, swallowing some of the nerves. Namjoon suspected he would. This was no ordinary case. “And I am glad I do.”

The addition made you look up from the floor. Taking a chance to study Taehyung closer, you didn’t expect to find the look in his eyes so... sympathetic. And curious. And anticipating.

“Oh, God, Tae,” sudden embarrassment washed over you, and your hands came up to cover your flushed face. “I am so sorry. I feel so terrible-“

“What? Why are you apologizing?” Taehyung was taken aback, seemingly surprised by the outburst of guilt. Trying to explain your embarrassment was, somehow, even more embarrassing.

“You weren’t in your right mind, and I sort of took advantage of that,” truth be told, you never saw it that way before. Not until you met the real Taehyung. “With all the kisses and touches. I should’ve stopped it. It’s your body, and I had no right-“

“No, no, no. I get it,” as if pulled by some force, the boy shuffled across the bed on his knees, eventually stopping in front of you. His fingers wrapped around your wrists, gently moving your hands away from your face. “You had to keep the story going for me. Dr. Kim explained everything.”

‘Right. Keeping the story going. That’s all it was,’ you thought ruefully, but said:

“Thank you for understanding,” it was easy to smile at Taehyung, even now, so you did. The boy smiled back, releasing your wrists, and, strangely, you didn’t feel like keeping distance between you anymore. “I feel a little less perverted.”

“Good. You should,” Taehyung nodded, looking proud of the fact that he didn’t let you think badly of yourself. “So,” the man shrugged innocently, letting his hands fall to rest of his thighs. “You said you sort of took advantage...,” Taehyung’s eyes glimmered mischievously, and you noticed his fingers tapping a playful rhythm on his lap. Wait... “Does it mean that you liked it? If it was to your advantage...”

Was he teasing you right now?

“Oh, wow. That was so bad,” you burst out laughing, which felt kind of anticlimactic, but so so needed. That’s Taehyung for you. The boy laughed along, showing off that infectious boxy smile of his. “How about I leave now, for awhile, and you come up with something better, okay?”

“Wait, wait,” Tae reached for your hand again, when you made a move towards the door. Both of you knew that you weren’t really leaving. “Do you want to get a cup of coffee? With me? Or tea? You like tea, right?” it’s like the boy wanted to prove that he remembered these things about you. It was sweet.

“Tae, are you sure? I mean, it wasn’t really you who liked me-“

“I said I remember everything, and I really like what I remember. About you. About us. I mean, if anything, the question is did you like the-past-life me, because, let me tell you, he’s not that different from the guy standing right here.”

“Well, obviously. The soul is the same.”

“See? Something tells me you weren’t faking it, not all the time. Not when it mattered,” his words carried certain weight, like he not only remembered, but, miraculously, experienced everything that happened. “So, did you like him?” Yes. Easy. “Do you like me?” Ooh, a little tougher. He did look exactly the same. (Duh.) Yet, there was something that made him feel more aware, more awake. More... here.

“If you remember everything, like you said, then you should know the answer to the first question.” I loved him.

“I do,” Taehyung said, turning completely serious for a moment, and you were thankful that he didn’t take your feelings lightly. “That’s why I-,” the boy cut himself short and bashfully shook his head. Cute. “Sorry, nevermind. It’s cheesy and a little too far.”

“No, tell me,” you tugged at his hand, consequently realizing that it was still holding yours. The comfortable nature of it didn’t surprise you. “I’ll be the judge.”

"I think he left something with me, and,” Taehyung’s free hand landed on his chest, near his heart, emphasizing where the change happened. “Who knows, maybe we will prove that eternal soulmates exist too," the boy was beaming, so proud of his charming line, and you didn’t make him wait too long for a reaction. Your cheeks got much warmer, and you lowered your gaze, trying to hide a shy smile that threatened to hurt your jaw with how wide it was.

“You were right. It is cheesy. But, maybe, not too far fetched.”

You cried yourself to sleep that night, realizing that, in some strange and gut wrenching way, you lost someone you loved. Forever. That bright and ridiculously romantic Taehyung from 1960s was gone. But you smiled before finally dozing off, thinking that you gained someone who could make you heart flutter just the same. Perhaps, equally bright and romantic. You just needed to give it a little time.

You fell in love with Taehyung once. You could do it again. Namjoon still had to prove it, but his soul belonged with yours, and...

He promised to love you forever, after all.

["thank you for stopping me, when i- uh, when i wanted to take things a little too far."

"um, yeah, no problem. though, i must admit, it wasn't too easy."

"how so? was i- was i pushing you too much?"

"no! no. it's just that- sometimes, you and... what you did... made me forget about, well, everything."

"oh? ... OH! i see..."]

a/n: thanks for reading! i really hope you enjoyed! for more of my stories go for masterlist here and here. feedback, as always, is needed and will be very much appreciated.

if you like my stories, you can support me here: buy me a coffee ✨☕️

#bts #bangtan #kim taehyung #reincarnation au #soulmate au #fluff #angst #fanfic #scenario #scenarios #story #oneshot #long #sfw #soft #my post #armyart #bts v fluff #bts v angst #writing

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contrivedcoincidences6 · 6 years ago

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The Invisible Cord (reboot)- Chapter 1

If you want to read the prologue go here

***

I look out the window and watch the wind blow through the autumn leaves. The swirling colors are able to hold my attention far better than the droning on of my biology teacher giving her lecture.

“Ms. Meeks? Ms. Meeks!”

The teacher’s irritable voice reaches my subconscious along with a series of muffled snickers.

“Yes, ma’am?” I ask.

“You seem to be distracted. Would some extra homework tonight help you concentrate?” she asks, hands on her hips.

“I’m not distracted, ma’am. I’ve been listening.”

“Well then, what are ribosomes?” she asked, her lips pursed.

My mind moves back in time to moments before and as I picture the leaves in the trees I can hear Mrs. Jefferson’s voice telling me the answer.

“They help produce the polypeptides that make up the majority of a cell’s structure and are required for activities that are necessary for the cell’s survival,” I repeat, using her exact wording just to be a brat.

“Alright then, what about endoplasmic reticulum?” she asks with a sigh.

For this I have to think back to a few minutes earlier. I remember how the light had shone off of Mr. Randall’s car and it comes back.

“The endoplasmic reticulum is a network of membrane-covered channels that transport the materials made in the cells, and are connected to the nucleus,” I say, again using her exact wording.

“Well, you certainly have done your reading,” Mrs. Jefferson says, giving me a subtle nod of approval. She seems to want to continue her little quiz when the bell rings. The students start to get up and as I gather my things I hear her voice through the crowd.

“April Meeks. I would like to speak with you before you leave.”

I walk up to her desk, making just enough eye contact to make her uncomfortable.

“What was that performance just now?” she asks, incredulous.

“I was listening to you, Mrs. Jefferson,” I say with a small shrug.

“You were not paying attention to the discussion or even taking notes.”

Fighting the urge to roll my eyes I tap my head. “Eidetic memory,” I answer with a straight face. Try not to react as her mouth twists into an ugly pout.

“May I leave now?” I ask as she simply nods, gestures towards the door.

Not surprisingly, May is standing right outside the door. As my best friend, she seemed to sense that I’d been causing trouble and she shoots me a harmless glare. Her long black braids sway around her head as she walks next to me and waits for me to say something.

May is basically my only friend. Growing up in the same foster home our caretakers decided that our names meant we were meant to be friends. And they were right, we’ve been inseparable ever since.

“That was stupid, April.” May says in her lecturing voice. “Why would you draw attention to yourself like that?”

I gave her what had to be my fiftieth shrug of the day.

“I’m just sick of sitting in a mid-level bio class pretending like I’m actually learning something.”

“So do you not want to stick to our plan then?” she asks, stopping so that I am forced to turn around.

“I never said that,” I mutter, letting out a soft sigh. “I just- why does it have to be so boring?”

“You don’t think that I’m bored?” May throws up her hands.

“But you know if we are all pulled out of the class people will start to notice we’re different. They’ll notice and then they’ll take you again.”

I look down at my feet, clad in Converse shoes that have seen better days.

“May, just for the record one more time, you are not my mother. I know all of this. And I don’t want to get taken. I didn’t get much sleep last night. I’m tired, and soon enough another birthday is going to come and go and I’ll have nothing new to show for it.”

Sighing she squeezes my fingers before looping her arm through mine.

In two days it will be my 16th birthday. I know for most everyone else in my class a sixteenth birthday is an important event. Sweet Sixteen invitations have been plastered all over lockers and everyone’s excited to get their learner’s permit.

To me, it just means another year. One filled with even more questions and fear than the previous one. It just so happens May’s birthday falls exactly one month before mine and she shares the same detachment.

We’re similar in more ways than that. Both of us have little concept of our lives before the age of five. It’s not that our minds were erased, or at least we don’t think they were. There are shadows that sometimes come in the night or a moment of Deja Vu. The memories don’t seem to fit in anywhere, just like us.

Sometimes I will have flashes to my mother singing to me as she makes me my lunch but I can’t picture her face. I can think back to being in the car with my father on a road trip but I don’t know where we were going. Most vividly though I remember all my visits to all the doctors. Those memories are the strongest ones and it’s another thing May and I have in common. Both of us have been in and out of the hospital for our entire lives.

“I just don’t want you to take risks like that. We need to follow our rules. I mean, really. Just two more years and we are out of this hellhole. That’s what you should think of on your birthday. Just two years until freedom.”

Her arm tightens around mine and I know that she really believes it. I smile and bump her shoulder, wanting to believe. ____________________________________________________________________

We watch them walk out of the school and try to interpret their behavior, this…display. The two of them have linked arms and upturned lips, and it makes us curious. Makes us wonder. Even though technically none of us are programmed to do that. We don’t think in depth. We don’t experience emotion. I guess one could consider us robots. One perk though of our clinical detachment is our reliance on our instincts. They’re essential to who we are and have helped to keep us safe. To help us survive.

One of our key instincts is fairly basic. To protect our mothers. We’ve had so many of them and while we failed most of them years ago when we were still too young and unskilled to prevent them from being harmed, we know some of them still live. Some, against all odds, have managed to survive and weather all the illness and all the death that’s been thrown at them, and we believe with everything in us, that we still have an obligation to them.

We know there are few of us now. According to all the official documents we’ve managed to access we are considered to be extinct. The truth is though that we still exist. We still create. We still have roles. We just need to embrace them quietly. Slowly. The way we’ve been trained to.

Looking to our sister she nods. We move forward, to follow the duo. They are real humans. They are to be protected. Unlike us. We’re secondary. Just biological material stolen from the humans, grown in the bellies of women who didn’t ask for us. Although we are all that remains of the original batch, the ones not created in test tubes, we all still consider our mothers to be our mothers. In every important sense of the word. It’s only because of their ova that we came into existence. While these two could be considered related to us in a sense they may as well be of a different species.

However, these children are important to our mothers. Therefore they are important to us. In two days time we will make contact. ____________________________________________________________________

“All I’m saying is the only reason he’s interested in me at all is because of the list.” May says, playing with my hair while I try to do my homework.

“What list?” I ask, half paying attention.

“You haven’t heard about the list the football players have?” she asks, looking at me as if I’m missing a crucial piece of information.

I shake my head and she moves from lying on her stomach behind me to scoot up next to me.

The expression on her face tells me that whatever ‘the list’ is, it’s easily the most important thing going on in the school. No wonder I’m clueless.

“It’s basically a fuck-it list. It’s like a bucket list, but it’s just a list of girls they want to fuck. I know Andrew is only sniffing around me so he can check off the ‘black girl’ box.”

“At the game the other day you said you wanted to eat bacon off his ass, so I really don’t get why you care,” I scoff, peering up at her through my glasses.

“It’s the principle of it!” May exclaims as I roll my eyes, and put down my textbook.

“But you are only interested in him for his ass. He’s only interested in you because of a list. Both of you have motives aside from actual interest in the other person. That being said, are you really telling me you won’t have sex with him?”

“I never said that. I’m just saying that I don’t appreciate his motives. Jennie was his token ‘Asian girl’. Have you heard of anything more crass than that? Still, she said he was a tiger in the sack. Hey!” She exclaimed giving my arm a soft swat, “You could probably get on his radar! Maybe he hasn’t checked the ‘redhead’ box yet.”

“No thanks. I’m good,” I say, shaking my head.

“You know, you’ll need to start dating at some point. People talk. Especially about the cute ones.”

“Aw, you think I’m cute?” I tease, earning an eye roll. “I’m not interested in dating, May. I mean, really, what’s the point?”

“Well, it’s nice for someone to show interest in you. There are also physical benefits of course.”

“Too much effort for something I can just take care of myself.”

May just shakes her head at me, flops back onto her own bed.

“You know if you’re into girls that’s great. I can get you the numbers of some I’ve been with.”

“Just some?”

“There’s only a few who would be worthy of you, my dear,” she teases as I let out a long sigh.

“It’s not that I’m not attracted to anyone I just have no interest in dating. There are way more important things for me to worry about right now.”

“You keep on with that attitude and I’ll tell you what’s going to happen: you’re going to be celibate for years. Until you finally figure out that there are no answers out there. But by that time I’ll be too old a woman to be able to enjoy it.”

Choosing to ignore her comment I find the last answer to the worksheet, hand it over to May to copy.

“Thanks,” she says, crossing back to her desk. Now it’s my turn to lie back on my bed and stare at the ceiling.

“Do you think that our parents are still alive?” I ask after a beat and she answers before I’m even done.

“Who knows? If they are they probably don’t care. I don’t know why you keep thinking about this. Who even knows if we have parents? For all we know we’re test-tube babies.”

“But what if they are alive and out there missing us. Maybe they’re trying to find us.”

Jumping a bit when she lies on the bed beside me I let out a sigh, fold my arms.

“I’m not dismissing that possibility, I just don’t want you to get your hopes up. I’m worried you’ll plan your whole life around this idea of a family out there looking for you and then find out there’s just…no way for you to have it.”

“But I feel like I did have it, May. At least once. All the memories I have from before, those have to mean something, don’t they?”

“If they’re real,” May sighs. “Look, they might be. But think about it, if they can erase our memories what makes you think they can’t plant fake ones?”

Just thinking about that makes my head hurt. In the way, it does when I’m on the verge of a long cry. Curling on my side I rest my forehead against May’s shoulder, grateful she knows without my saying it that she should stay put.

Her fingers run through my hair, “Just to be safe though we can watch Anastasia again tonight.”

I laugh and close my eyes trying not to yearn for more than this perfect moment.

#the x files #txf #msr #x files #the x files fanfiction #fox mulder #dana scully #clarices fic #the invisible cord

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theveggiefeminist-blog · 5 years ago

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Week 7: Social Media & Participatory Culture

Social media networks are the perfect example of participatory culture, as defined in the Week 7 readings. It is relatively easy to gain membership in the culture; all you have to do is create a profile and begin following people and gaining followers yourself. The very nature of social media encourages the creation and sharing of media by the user in the form of posts - either videos, images, text, or sound clips. “Informal mentorship,” as described by Jenkins, Puroshotma, Clinton, Weigel, & Robison in the reading “Confronting the Challenges of Participatory Culture.” This mentorship occurs in multiple ways, through the ability to watch those with more experience and learn from their successes, as well as through tutorial videos detailing how people record and edit their videos, take their Instagram photos, and build followers. The constant influx of likes and comments on posts contributes to the idea among users that “their contributions matter,” and gives users “some degree of social connection with one another” (Jenkins, Puroshotma, Clinton, Weigel, & Robison, 2009).

The social media platforms that I am most active on are Instagram and Facebook. Although these platforms are relatively similar, I use them for different purposes. Instagram is the platform I use to share media that I have created - photos and images I’ve created and/or edited. Most of my Insta followers are friends my own age. Facebook is where I share major life updates, as most of my FB friends are a mix of friends my own age as well as family. Additionally, I share a lot of politically related articles and news on my Facebook page. I don’t often share photos on Facebook, unless I am updating my profile picture or making a special anniversary or birthday post.

I’ve had Instagram since I was 15 years old, a sophomore in high school. My very first Instagram post was a duck face selfie with one of my friends and fellow cast members, in full stage makeup and costume (we were playing Pink Ladies in a production of Grease). I remember feeling confident in myself and my validity as a young woman, because I had my first boyfriend, who was both older than me (an older boy was interested in me!! I must be so special!) and very attractive to me. He caught the attention of other girls, even the girls I deemed to be popular. It was a huge boost to my self esteem knowing that he had picked me when, in my mind, he could have swooned any girl. Yes, of course, as a feminist and GWSS major, I now know that this was all super messed up and stemmed from my internalization of the patriarchy. But, I think it offers an interesting insight into why I even started using Instagram in the first place and what it meant to me. My very next post was a cutesy couples photo with said bf, and the comments were all very affirming. This gave me some sense of social capital, and I felt validation from likes and comments on my Instagram photos telling me that I was pretty, I was cool, I was worthy. This validation factor of Instagram created the belief in me that my posts mattered and that by regularly posting on Instagram, I was participating in a social circle that I wouldn’t have access to in the strictly face-to-face world.

Something that caught my eye in the readings was the definition of “The Ethics Challenge.” “The Ethics Challenge” is defined as “the breakdown of traditional forms of professional training and socialization that might prepare young people for their increasingly public roles as media makers and community participants” (Jenkins, Puroshotma, Clinton, Weigel, & Robison, 2009). This is actually something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately, especially because as I’ve gotten older, the appeal of Instagram has begun to melt away, and I’ve wondered why. The last post I made on Instagram was a senior photo of my younger brother, which I posted exactly two months ago. The last post before that, a selfie taken on a day when I had put on makeup for a job interview, was seven months ago. Whereas I used to strive to keep up my Instagram aesthetic, posting regularly, being sure to post an “update” selfie if I cut or colored my hair, posting selfies with my boyfriend (a different guy, and a much healthier relationship, btw!!) just enough to make sure people knew that we’re still together… now I simply don’t have the desire to post, not even for the sake of keeping up the appearance that my life fits a certain aesthetic. Firstly, I came to a slow recognition that I wasn’t making these posts entirely for myself, but rather to project a certain image of myself within my online social circles, and secondly, I’ve come to really value privacy. No one told me when I was a young teen joining Instagram for the first time what it really meant to be an avid social media user, a sharer. There is absolutely nothing wrong with sharing your life and experiences on social media, but the circumstances under which I began using Instagram weren’t supportive of clear thinking on the topic of privacy. My account is and always has been a private account, but still, I honestly never really considered what it meant to have all these photos and videos of myself out there online, even if I could control who had access to my account. I joined Instagram because I would be out of the loop if I didn’t have it, and I stayed and became active on it because of the validation it offered, and the chance to control my image and aesthetic online. I don’t regret anything that I’ve posted, but I have let go of my attachment to the platform and instead relish my privacy and the feeling of being free from the burden I had internalized - the burden of creating and maintaining an idealized image of myself online.

#ci3342 SocialMediaLearning

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killingmebtob · 6 years ago

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Vindictive: Ruins and Dead Ends [Part Two]

Collaboration between Chi and Sara

Author: @killingmebtob // Sara

Title: Vindictive: Ruins and Dead Ends

Characters: BTOB and Reader B

Summary: There’s always a reason behind each and every action but how far can a reason justify ones actions?

Author’s Note: Part Two is here! Sorry it took a while but I hope that you’re all excited for it. Please do let us know how you think the story is going. Enjoy~!

Part One || Part Two

---

“What’s with the deep frown?” I asked as I set down the mug I was drinking from. Across the room, Minhyuk was sitting on the couch reading what probably was a text message on his phone. It was a Saturday evening and we’ve both agreed that I’d be staying over at his place for the whole weekend so that we could unwind. The expression on his face was on the opposite spectrum of unwinding. I plopped down on the couch beside him when he didn’t respond and rested my chin on his shoulder. “Hey,”

“Huh?” He mumbled before glancing at me. With a small smile, he sighed, shook his head, and kept his phone.

“You okay?”

Minhyuk nodded, “Yeah. It’s just work.”

We stared at each other for quite a while. Somehow, I had a feeling that it was more than just work. I couldn’t figure out what it was but he was often a little out of it. I’d find him chewing down on his lip while he’d be staring into the distance. There have been a couple of times when I had to say his name repeatedly before he snaps out of his trance. The dark circles under his eyes said a lot too. I knew that there have been nights when he couldn’t sleep well.

“Are you sure? You can talk to me about whatever it is, you know that, right?” I offered.

The corner of his mouth pulled up to one side in an attempt to smile. “I know. Don’t worry. I’m okay. It’s just the case…,”

“…and your mom,” I sighed as I reached out for and held his hand. “Has there been any news from the detective in-charge of finding her assailant?”

“No,” he huffed. “The longer time passes, the colder the trail gets,” Minhyuk lowly and darkly uttered.

It’s been over a month since his mom was admitted to the hospital. The detective speculated that his mom was most likely robbed while she was on her way home and after taking her belongings, the culprit assaulted her and left her for dead in one of the alleyways in their neighborhood. Luckily, she was found by a neighbor who immediately called for help.

It’s still clear to me how distraught he was that day. He was informed by the person who found his mom about the incident while he was on his way to work. Minhyuk had called me after that. It was the first time I heard an extreme amount of panic and worry in his voice. It broke my heart and the memory of that time still breaks my heart today.

I ended up calling sick that day just so I could be there with him at the hospital. There was a bit of relief when the doctor said that she was going to recover. Well, her body was going to recover. The sad news was no one knew when or if she was going to wake up. Everything was uncertain. It still is.

I know it kills him inside every day to see his mom in such a state while the culprit was probably out there somewhere doing who knows what. He had repeatedly expressed his intent to help in finding the person but the captain was firm about his decision to keep Minhyuk away from the case. The captain’s reasons were he has personal relations with the victim and he was loaded with the Reaper case.

A pout formed on my lips at the heavy atmosphere that dawned on us. So, I tried to change the topic.

“So… Is the FBI agent still getting on your nerves?”

Minhyuk scoffed, “Yeah, but it’s nothing. I just get annoyed when they keep on suggesting bizarre theories about the Reaper’s identity.”

“Oh. So, getting fed up with the feds?” I joked, trying to lighten his mood before sighing. Softly, I said as I squeezed his hand reassuringly, “I know there’s a lot of pressure around you right now, especially that the captain seems so adamant about the reaper case being a huge step in your career when you close it. And your mom’s condition is adding to that. But whatever it is that’s in your mind, whether it be work or just anything, I’m always here to lend you an ear,”

I could feel cold sweat building on my forehead as my throat was starting to run dry. My heart was thumping loudly in my ear as I stared at the scene in front of me.

Blood was pooling on the floor. The deep, dark red liquid felt like it was sucking me in and the only thing stopping me from falling into it was the body on top of it. The corpse was facing away from me but I knew that it had a slit on its throat, which was the reason for the pool of blood. I could also see familiar lacerations on the shoulders. They were similar to the ones I’ve seen and studied for quite a number of times.

Just as I was about to reach for the body, I froze at the feeling of the tip of a blade being pushed against my back. My heart hammered even more against my chest. I shut my eyes, scared for my life, while I did my best to stand still. I don’t know how long I kept my eyes closed but when I opened them, I was disoriented.

There was no blade pushing on my back. There was no pool of blood on the floor. Instead, I found myself on the bed staring at a digital clock, with the text 2:28 glaring back at me, and an arm loosely draped around my torso. I screwed my eyes shut as I took in the realization that it was just a dream. I tried to calm my heart by taking deep breaths but it wasn’t working.

Deciding that I couldn’t easily shake off the dream, I carefully peeled away from Minhyuk’s hold and replaced my spot with a pillow. He was in deep sleep, probably exhausted from his work and everything, and I didn’t want to wake him up. I made my way to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

The dream kept on replaying in my head the whole time.

“I think I’ve been spending too much time studying the case,” I uttered before taking another gulp from the glass. Ever since Gia sent me the message regarding the body being identified as Damien Dee, I’ve spent quite a huge chunk of my time trying to learn more about him. It wasn’t that easy given my limited resources.

The word resources rang in my head as my eyes flickered to the laptop left on the coffee table. It was Minhyuk’s. He had left it there when we arrived at his house earlier.

‘Open it,’ the devil in my mind was tempting me. Everything I needed would be in there—private details about the case, investigation reports, police records, and just about anything else that I have no way of accessing without his help. Those files would probably make up everything that was lacking in my own study of the whole case.

I bit down on my lip, contemplating if I should open it. I have an external drive in my bag that I could mount into the laptop to copy the files while he was sleeping.

But I shook my head and tore my gaze away from the device. “Don’t be stupid. You need to do this on your own. Besides, going behind his back to investigate after you said that you’d stop is bad enough,” I whispered to myself while heading back to the bedroom.

It was difficult to fall asleep again because of the guilt that was starting to brew inside my chest once more. I started to wonder if helping him was worth all the guilt and the consequences. I kept on thinking of how disappointed he would be if he finds out that I’ve been going behind his back. Not just disappointed but maybe even betrayed.

I couldn’t help but think back to a couple of days ago.

“Where are you going?”

I turned to my left to see Peniel looking up at me before his eyes darted to my bag then back to me again. I was hoping that he wouldn’t ask because I had no proper excuse.

“Uh,” I uttered. “I just have to meet with someone… for… an article,” I lied and I knew I did a terrible job at it. The amused smile that tugged on his lips annoyed me.

“Then shouldn’t I be coming with you?” He asked a bit smugly. “I mean, I am your partner,”

‘Temporary partner,’ I thought to myself as I forced a smile. “It’s fine. You can just—”

“Okay,” he suddenly beamed. “I’m coming with. I don’t think the chief would also appreciate it if you left without me. He’d also probably ask me and if I tell him your excuse, he’d wonder and then question you when you get back,”

I pursed my lips in annoyance. It’s one of the things I’ve learned about Peniel over the past few days. He’s insistent. It is a good characteristic but in some cases, it’s not.

“Okay, fine. Just…,” I heavily sighed and shook my head at his triumphant smile.

Getting a cab was a bit difficult and took some time. Well, compared to trying to ignore my partner’s questions, hailing a cab was way easier. After I had given the address to the driver, Peniel started bombarding me with questions again.

“So, where are we going?”

“Just some house,” I mumbled.

“What house?” He pressed even more, causing me to shoot him an annoyed glance. “I mean… I should know, right?”

“Just… A house. I need to talk to the caretaker,”

“Is this related to the folder that I saw on your desk the other time?” He asked and I stiffened at the mention of the folder. I was about to deny it but then he nodded. “Okay, okay. I see,”

The rest of the ride was silent. I was thankful that he stopped asking questions because it gave me some time to think. I know I shouldn’t have brought him with me but he did have a point. I’d be in deeper trouble if the chief questions me.

“This is it,” I sighed as we stepped out of the cab. We stared at the tall gates that separated us from a pristine white bungalow. The place screamed rich and wealthy.

“Wow,” he mumbled. “I know that there are rich people here but…”

“Yeah. Welcome to the upper side of Sunshine City,” I chuckled before ringing the buzzer.

I was swaying on the balls of my feet as we waited. The longer we stood there, the more nervous I became. There were so many what if’s in my head. What if the caretaker doesn’t believe us? What if the police are planning to search this place too? What if I run into Minhyuk here?

I snapped out of it when Peniel nudged me. I turned to him just to see that he was pointing to an approaching lady who had her hair pulled up into a bun. The person was wearing simple clothes and she even has a duster in her hand. She looked like she was around her late 50’s.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” She kindly spoke.

“Uh, yeah,” I nodded as I licked my lips. “I’m a consultant for the police department and he’s my associate. We just have a few questions regarding Mr. Damien Dee’s situation,”

“Oh,” her eyes widened before she nodded. She made quick work of the gate. “A detective and his team came here the other day. A handsome man, that detective,” she shared as she let us through.

I did my best not to sigh in relief that she let us in. Not just that, there was a low chance of us running into Minhyuk here. Peniel and I trailed behind her as she led us to the house.

“That was easy,” he whispered. “Given that you just brought me to the house of a homicide victim,”

I could hear the surprise that he was trying to hide in his voice.

“We just got lucky that the detective came before us,” I mumbled, feeling terrible.

We quickly settled ourselves on one of the couches in the living room. The caretaker offered to prepare drinks for us but we refused. I did my best not to let my eyes wander the interior of the house but Peniel was doing the exact thing that I was trying not to do.

“Wow,” he even mumbled.

I slightly shook my head at him before focusing on the caretaker. “I’m sorry that we bothered you at this time. You must’ve been working,”

She shook her head. “It’s okay. You said you had some questions?”

“Yes. Are you familiar with the Reaper case?” I questioned and she nodded. “Before his body resurfaced, did Mr. Dee mention anything about going to any social event?”

“No. He never says anything about his daily activities,”

“You didn’t find it strange that he went missing for a long time?”

“Mr. Dee was the kind of man who would rarely drop by his home. I didn’t think much of it because it wasn’t the first time that he disappeared for days. Before, he would go on long trips without letting me know so I thought that it was just another one of those instances,”

“I see,” I sighed. “Usually, the victims of the case are those who were tried at court but Mr. Dee didn’t have any case which required him to undergo trial recently. I’m thinking that it could have been a personal vendetta of the Reaper against him. Do you know if he got into any argument or fight recently?”

With a frown on her face, she shook her head, “Mr. Dee lives an extremely private life. He doesn’t share anything personal about himself.”

“Do you know anyone else who we can ask about him? Any family?”

The caretaker shook her head once again. “I’m afraid there is none. He never spoke of his family nor did he display any photo of them. But… there might be someone you can talk to. I can’t remember his name but he used to work for Mr. Dee as his secretary. If you can find him, then he might have more answers to your questions,”

“Very well. Do you mind if we search around the house? His office, perhaps?”

I was chewing on the inside of my cheeks as I sat in a coffee shop situated on the ground floor in one of the many buildings in the city. I’ve been here since I got out of work at 5 pm and I’ve seen so many people walking past the turnstiles and out of the building. However, none of them was the person I’ve been looking for.

Back when Peniel and I were in Damien Dee’s house, we found a photo of a group of people hiding in one of the drawers of his desk. It was the only thing that we found useful because everything else, like his laptop, was with the police. The photo was of a group of 10 to 15 men and that photo was enough for me because the caretaker was able to point out who used to be Damien’s secretary.

With a face, finding a name was as easy as 1, 2, 3. Peniel was surprised that I managed to find the person’s name by the time we were back in the city. His words rang in my head,

“Are you sure you’re a writer and not some kind of undercover detective?”

I remember chuckling and shaking my head before indulging his curiosity. I explained that I used to write news and reports about crimes in the city. That was where I started with my current company. With that line of writing, I had to learn how to get into crime scenes and how to work my way into finding people based on faces and descriptions. But it wasn’t just that. Ever since I was young, I’ve always had an interest in crime scenes and police work. Most of my interest was thanks to my dad who worked as a chief police officer.

My mom was against my interest. Well, she used to be fine with it. I could remember her smile every time I would say that I wanted to be like my dad. But things happened.

Being part of the police force also meant being on the frontline of danger. It meant making enemies in every corner of the city.

I couldn’t help but bite down on my lip when I recalled that day. I was on my way home from school and from miles away, you could hear the blaring sirens of police cars. I didn’t have a choice but to walk by the commotion because it was on my usual route home. Seeing that the police were present, I was hoping that I could get a glimpse of my dad at work. The way he was so passionate about his job made me look up to him greatly.

As I was walking by the police tapes, I noticed how terrible the officers looked. Some were shaking their heads while others looked lost. I did my best to search for my dad through the crowd but I wish I didn’t.

He was seated on the ground, his back resting limply against a car. His eyes were opened but they were devoid of anything. Three bullets were lodged into his chest; his white polo stained with his own blood. It was a sight that I thought only happened in movies. It never seemed real until it happened to me.

They said it was a thief that did it out of panic but a panicked thief wouldn’t shoot a cop thrice on the chest, especially in a public place. I knew that it was something else but no one really ever found who did it. The case was left to turn cold over the years.

My life quickly changed after that. My mom started packing up, saying that we needed a new life somewhere far from our hometown. That was what led us here to Sunshine City. The moment we stepped foot into the new city, she immediately forbade me from taking up anything that would gear me towards a similar career path as my dad’s. The desperation in her eyes as she repeatedly convinced me was still clear in my head.

Despite the unfortunate event that happened and her constant pleading, my interest never died. In fact, it burned even greater but it wasn’t enough to push me to not follow what my mom had wanted. So, I settled for second best: a writer who focused on criminal cases—specifically homicidal ones.

A heavy sigh escaped my lips as I checked my watch. It was now a couple of minutes after 7 in the evening. It’s been a long time since I talked to anyone about what led me to my job. Part of me still regrets following what my mom wanted, especially now. If I did what I wanted back then, then maybe it’d be easier for me to conduct an investigation about the reaper because I have the resources I needed. It was no use crying over spilt milk now. I just had to make do with what I have.

At around 7:30, the person I was waiting for finally walked past the turnstiles. I quickly grabbed my things and rushed out of the shop. Even if I was a bit far from the turnstiles, I knew that it was him based on the photo.

“Hey!” I called out as I did my best to catch up to him.

He turned, eyes wide with surprise. His head turned from side to side to check if I was referring to him. The man even pointed to himself. When I nodded, a question mark was clearly seen on his expression.

“Uh,” he mumbled when I stopped in front of him. I noticed that his eyebrows furrowed. “Have we met somewhere?”

“No, I don’t think so,” I shook my head, wondering why he said such a thing.

“Ah. You just seem familiar,” he mumbled. “Uh… Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Are you Seo Eunkwang?” I asked and when he nodded, I started explaining to him the same things that I said to Damien Dee’s caretaker. I was hoping that he’d let me ask him questions but the moment he heard the name Damien Dee, he stiffened and averted his gaze.

“I…I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I’m sorry but I can’t help you,”

“Please,” I pleaded but he was stubborn too.

Eunkwang kept on shaking his head while walking away. “I’m sorry but,” he once again shook his head. “I’m sorry,”

With that, he left me standing in the empty lobby of the building’s ground floor. I ran my hand through my hair out of frustration. Based on what had just happened, it would probably take me a while to get Eunkwang to talk to me about Damien. The way he suddenly started pushing me away at the mention of his name made me wonder about what kind of employee-employer relationship they had back then.

Over the next few days, I kept on trying to get him to trust me enough to talk to me. I did my best to chat him up, even walking alongside him when he leaves the building. By Friday, I was exhausted but I didn’t stop. I needed answers and details and he was the only one who might be able to give those to me at the moment.

“I’m sorry but I really can’t help you,” he shook his head, obviously tired of me following him around and asking him to talk to me.

“You can,” I pleaded. “And honestly, you’re the only person who can help me at the moment,”

Eunkwang earnestly shook his head and started walking away again but I rushed ahead of him and blocked his path.

“Look. I’m not with the police department. I’m not a consultant. Okay? I lied a few days ago. I’m actually a news writer but what I’m doing has nothing to do with my job. I…,” I sighed as I chewed on my lip. I felt terrible admitting to him that I lied.

“I could call the cops on you for that,” he stated but there was no threat in his voice. It was just like he was stating a fact.

“I know. But can you just at least hear me out? I’m not doing this for fun. I’m as serious as the police and the FBI when it comes to this case,”

Eunkwang thought about it for a moment before he nodded.

I huffed, thinking of how I could properly explain myself. “This Reaper case has been going on for a long time. I’ve been doing my own investigation about it about two or three years after the case was opened. The detective in-charge is my boyfriend. The only reason why I’m doing this is him,” I admitted. “I know that I may be getting in the way. I know that I may also be putting myself in danger. But I want to help him. I want to help him get this case closed. I can see how tired he is and it worries me greatly. If I can find something that he can’t, an angle or a hidden clue, then that may be a big help for him and his team.

“There’s just something about this case with Damien Dee that makes me feel like I can help him—that I can find something that he won’t. Can you please help me?” I wanted the ground to eat me up when I realized how desperate I sounded.

The man before me heavily sighed. “Fine. I’ll answer your questions but you have to promise me that you won’t say that those answers came from me. I’d much rather not involve myself in this case,”

#btob #btob imagines #btob scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #eunkwang #minhyuk #changsub #hyunsik #peniel #ilhoon #sungjae #vindictive #vindictive: ruins and dead ends

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