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surfalldaybaby · 4 years ago

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”A Very Long and Comprehensive Analysis of Feyre’s Experience w/ Trauma and Abuse

- This is not a kind analysis of Nesta but please still read it if you want. It’s not in the wrong tags tho so please don’t rant about how much you love Nesta. I love that for you. Personally, I hate her. :)

Also- I use many of the quotes that @feysandlover and @dont-rattle-aelin used to prove her point that Nesta is abusive because she pulled many of the really jarring ones.

I was looking through the Rhysand tag and for some reason someone posted something comparing Nesta and Feyre in terms of their trauma, and they said that Nesta had experienced way more trauma than Feyre and I-

That’s disgusting.

First - don’t compare trauma

Second- they were wrong and lacked critical thinking skills that left out Feyre’s full experience with abuse

Nesta was sexually assaulted ( which nobody talks about enough) and her family’s fortune flipped making them poor overnight. Because of this she fostered anger towards her father. I get that. I sympathize with that. She is then taken away from her life and forcefully changed into fae. I cannot imagine what that felt like for her. It must have been devastating. Her whole identity was shifted in one day and she went from hating fae to being fae. Confusing and overwhelming. She then goes into war and develops PTSD and depression from her experiences. She sees her father die and is unable to reconcile her anger and his death. It’s horrible and I cannot even begin to understand the depth of her emotions here. I have zero issue saying that about Nesta because it’s true she has gone through extaordinary trauma and I cannot imagine how she fully feels. She deals with this trauma in unhealthy ways because they only exacerbate her feelings of worthlessness. Not her fault. However, she also treats Mor and Feyre and Rhys in disrespectful ways and Cassian and her have an unhealthy dynamic where they insult each other. Her and Amren have a shaky and partner like relationship but it is by no means a sturdy one. Az and Nesta don’t seem to have a relationship at all. She has no true healthy relationship with anyone but Elain, and you could argue even that is not truly healthy.

Much of Nesta’s trauma is due to extraneous factors and a multitude or variables. It’s valid and it matters just as much as Feyres. They are both real. However the amount of traumatic experiences she has gone through does not come close to rivaling that of Feyre’s and to even try and compare them is disgusting. Trauma should never be compared but I want to show Feyre’s experience in a broader light to show her development from a scared girl to high lady

Feyre was never an active abuser in any relationship she was always the one being abused. Nesta was abused and she was also the abuser. It is important to point that out because it heavily impacts Feyre’s story.

Also, I believe the reason Feyre became so accustomed and slipped so easily into being a victim to Tamlins abuse is because Feyre was already the victim of emotional abuse from her sisters. We see this everyday, research shows that victims of abuse go back to abusive relationship and form new relationships that center around abuse because they are used to it and find it comforting. This is an extraneous point that you can agree with or can argue against it’s just a personal connection I made. However, it is very evident how Nesta and Elains treatment of Feyre affects her. She has no self confidence, she remains illiterate and with no real knowledge of polite manners ( something important in the real world, something that holds her back from being able to assimilate into the real world), her spirit is broken down at home because she knows that verbal attacks are going to come and Nesta is going to lash out and say horrible disgusting things to her if she asks her to do something or holds her accountable for her lack of work. She is constantly degraded for everything that she does and it has a pronoucned effect on her psyche throughout the trilogy and novella.

Like Nesta, Feyre also had to go through her family losing their fortune, she also had to bear the weight of her promise to her mother, she had to support her sisters financially going into the forest alone to hunt animals just as big as herself at 14. She never had money for herself because her sisters took it from her. Like they literally took all her money to buy things they did not need, leaving Feyre with basically nothing.

“I’d love a new cloak,” Elain said at last with a sigh, at the same moment Nesta rose and declared: “I need a new pair of boots.””“I kept quiet, knowing better than to get in the middle of one of their arguments, but I glanced at Nesta’s still-shiny pair by the door. Beside hers, my too-small boots were falling apart at the seams, held together only by fraying laces... I drowned them out as they began quarreling over who would get the money the hide would fetch tomorrow…”

And Nesta complains and whines and doesn’t stop gaslighting Feyre because of her lack of hard work. But, she doesn’t want to do work herself because she thinks it’s beneath her.

“I thought you were going to chop wood today. Nesta picked at her long, neat nails. “I hate chopping wood. I always get splinters. She glanced up from beneath her dark lashes. Of all of us, Nesta looked the most like our mother—especially when she wanted something. “Besides, Feyre,” she said with a pout, “you’re so much better at it! It takes you half the time it takes me. Your hands are suited for it—they’re already so rough.” My jaw clenched. “Please,” I asked, calming my breathing, knowing an argument was the last thing I needed or wanted. “Please get up at dawn to chop that wood.” I unbuttoned the top of my tunic. “Or we’ll be eating a cold breakfast.” Her brows narrowed. “I will do no such thing!”

She doesn’t care about Feyre or the fact that starving is their new reality. Poverty is what they live in. We all know if Feyre didn’t go hunting Nesta would be furious at Feyre and belittle her and make her feel small and responsible for their hunger.

“Take those disgusting clothes off.”

“Any bit of praise for anyone—me, Elain, other villagers—usually resulted in her dismissal.”

“Is there a problem, Feyre?” She flung my name like an insult, and my jaw ached from clenching it so hard.”

“You stink like a pig covered in its own filth. Can’t you at least try to pretend that you’re not an ignorant peasant?”c“Take those disgusting clothes off.”

“What do you know?” Nesta breathed. “You’re just a half-wild beast with the nerve to bark orders at all hours of the day and night. Keep it up, and someday—someday, Feyre, you’ll have no one left to remember you, or to care that you ever existed.” She stormed off, Elain darting after her, cooing her sympathy.

Then Tamlim comes and kidnaps her. More trauma. She falls in love with him, I think partly because of Stockholm Syndrome and also because he shows her a level of kindness that she was not given at home, and then he disappears so she has to go back to her life with her sisters. Her sisters have all the benefits of her being stolen away bcs Feyre was able to provide their old house and wealth back through Tamlin’s gift. Her sisters literally never did anything to provide for themselves or help their father or sister. If you really think about that situation as a whole it’s devastating. Then she goes to save Tamlin and finds that her home and her loved one was basically destroyed. She goes to save him.

While under the mountain Amarantha humiliates and tortures her for fun. She makes her run around trying to get away from a monster, her illiteracy is exploited for amusement while she is under pressure of death by fire, she is forced to kill fae in order to save her love, and she has to suffer with her injuries in a basement where everyone is rooting against her.

Then she fucking dies. And like Nesta she is forced to become fae in order to survive. Like she can’t catch a break. Her whole life has really just been horrible and so traumatic. A series of abuses.

That’s not even all! She goes home and is deeply depressed and struggling with PTSD and Tamlin, who she literally was tortured and died to save, takes advantage of her sexually because he is too scared to acknowledge that she is struggling. He uses her body for his pleasure while she throws up every night after he leaves her bedroom due to the nightmares she gets from saving hundreds of fae. She is also forced to fit into a box that she doesn’t want- wearing dresses, pretending to be happy, becoming a figurehead as Tamlins bride knowing that it means she will have to be submissive and have children. Lucien emotionally abused her and ignores her obvious depression because of his own fear of what Tamlin would say. He is a bystander. She is so broken that she stops caring about everything, even painting, the one thing she always loved. Then he traps her in his house which is traumatizing again because she was just trapped under the mountain! Even the people she loved, the people she trusted, continually can’t stop abusing her.

She finds happiness and stability later on after intensive work on herself, and months of building healthy relationships, but she is still troubled because of the guilt she feels from the townsfolks anger and their sense of righteousness for her actions even though she did the best she could in every circumstance. When she goes to try and save those townspeople it becomes clear that Nesta still hates her. She shows Feyre no kindness. The only reason she is allowed to use the house, the one that Feyre got for them, was because of Elain. Even after that Nesta insults her repeatedly for being fae. Those statments from the first book that I quoted higher up in this post are just a small part of how she speaks to Feyre in the following three books after she finds out that she is fae. Even after Feyre saves her and supports her she continues abusing and blaming Feyre. She continues to insult. degrade, shame, and humiliate her to uplift her own lack of self worth. Its a technique to stop her own insecurity and depression but it is in no way excusable. It’s no wonder Rhysand hates her. She abused his mate for years- something that he experienced under the mountain (shame, gaslighting, and humiliation). That is her life. She goes on to see her father murdered. She suffered so much in such a short amount of time is a wonder she wasn’t more broken.

Don’t come to me saying Nesta experienced more trauma to prove your point that Nesta is a good person and not responsible for her actions because she “feels to much” and is a woman that is cruel, and prideful, and unapologetic “bcs that’s who she is.” She has to be held accountable for her actions, her attitude, and her lack of words and apologies to everyone she wronged- especially her sister.

Feyre sacrifices her childhood, her body, her mental health, and her life in order to provide the stability that her sisters felt was their norm. They are inherently priviledged because of that sacrifice. They felt and still feel entitled to her money, and her loyalty, and that of her friends and mate. They survive because of Feyre. And Feyre never once called them out on their behavior, not even when they continually disrespected her after she provided them with a place to live and money to live off of. This was due to her feelings of guilt and the trauma that she had continually been victim to as a child and in Tamlins court.

Some of y’all use the excuse that they never asked Feyre to do any of that and I’m genuinely appalled that that is even a response to her genuine sacrifice. Her mother asked her to take care of them. Nobody was stepping up. Nesta was not going to go into the forest and neither was Elain, both for different but equally disappointing reasons. They both would have let the family starve. Also, Nesta and Elain were both older than her. Elain and Nesta as Feyre’s old sisters should have, and had a responsibility, to ensure that Feyre didn’t have to do what she did. Their apathy and ungrateful attitude is disgusting. Disgusting and unforgivable. Sure, Feyre may have been able to do it but she never should have had to. The three of them should have figured out a plan of equal work to give and take and survive. Y’all saying that Feyre never had to do that I- ... do you not have a family? Do you not have loved ones? You don’t have to do something to help your family, but you do it anyway because you love them and you hate to see them suffer. It’s just that usually you aren’t being exploited and taken advantage of at 14, for years on end, because the sentiment is usually reciprocated.

Perhaps if they had taken better care of their younger sister she would not have been in the woods and killed the fae. Perhaps all three of them would have bore the brunt of their fathers injury together and made a family. Perhaps if she hadn’t killed the fae in the forest when she was starving due to her sisters laziness, Elain and Nesta would never have been forced into being fae.

They neglected Feyre. They aren’t as responsible for her as their father ofc but they actively neglected her and Nesta even slut shamed her for her consensual sexual relationship with Isaac. The one thing she had that her sisters couldn’t take and Nesta called her filthy and disgusting for it.

“At least I don’t have to resort to rutting in the hay with Isaac Hale like an animal.”

Nesta remains unapologetic and to me she is not a feminist character. Sarah J Mass tried to use her as that trope to fulfill her idea of a “powerful woman” icon but she’s just a cruel and traumatized woman who people let off the hook. She gets away with it because she gaslights other characters while taking no responsibility for herself. She was abused and traumatized herself but that’s never an excuse for her in turn abusing someone else.

Now I don’t mean to say that Nesta or Elain are irredeemable. Frankly I think they both have potential to be good characters if they just apologized to Feyre in the next book, and really put those sentiments into actions. I do think Nesta is a bad person right now, I think she’s an abuser. And I think it’s hard for abusers to change their pattern of abuse. Elain is less of an outright abuser and more complicit in the abuse. I don’t know if either of them can change, but they definitely won’t if people keep letting them off the hook for their disgusting behavior. I am not impressed or charmed by either of them. Until they show a hint of gratitude and remorse to their sister because as y’all can tell she went through hell to make sure they were taken care of. Not to say that they didn’t do anything for Feyre. They both had important roles to play in the war, and they do have their moments of kindness and bravery and showed they cared for Feyre but abusers can be kind and considerate and brave one minute and then switch up just as fast. It’s about showing a consistent pattern of respect and love.

Just because Feyre took care of Elain and Nesta their whole damn life does not mean she has to be responsible for them as high lady. Also she is not responsible for knowing how to deal with their trauma. Her own abuse, and lack of real world experience- because Nesta and Elain never taught her to read, and Nesta continually degraded and made cruel remarks to Feyre about her lack of manners “ disgusting pig, take off your clothes didn’t anyone teach you ...” (manners she didn’t develop because she was in the forest)- means she is not perfect at confronting Nestas PTSD or depression. Feyre’s intention was always good, whereas you can’t tell me that Nestas was good and pure. She is not exempt from being respectful and kind because she is hurt and has mental illnesses. She is not exempt from apologizing because she “feels to much.”

This applies to all of the IC as well. They are all healing. They all experienced trauma that rivals what Feyre went through. It’s no wonder they built a family from that shared bond. They are healing together- not healed. Nesta is not entitled to Feyre’s care or her friends kindness. She is not entitled to be added into the group painting or their secret jokes or parties because she continues to push them all away. Then she insults them and disrespects them. The inner circle has already suffered so much they are not exactly going to be open to accepting Nesta knowing her history and her current actions and remarks, and the history of the IC. Do y’all not remember Mors family nailing a stake into her body for losing her virginity? Or Cassian, Az, and Rhys being forced to bond together to survive, being called bastards, and being ganged up on by all their peers? Rhys being sexually abused for 50 years and seeing his parents murdered? Az being stuck in a basement so long he became the shadows and his hands being burned so badly they were hard to look at? Or Amren being in the wrong body for centuries and still she and all of the IC remain a family because they try to understand each other and their experiences. Nesta was not only rude to them she was cruel and spiteful, especially to their high lady, and they don’t need an excuse, but especially as victims of abuse, they are not perfect, and they sure as hell are not obligated to embrace Nesta into their family. The IC and Feyre deserve better.

A lot of people have posed the argument that if Nesta was male everyone would love her but I disagree. If an older brother let his sister go hunting alone in the woods for years while sitting on his ass, slut shamed her and called her dirty and disgusting, blamed her for her family’s poverty and spoke to her like she was trash for years and years, verbally and emotionally belittled her, felt entitled to her possessions and her kindness while they were both struggling to heal from abuse, predisposes his sister to accepting abuse as a form of relationship, and then rather than apologize “steels [her] back” and says nothing-not even an apology or a thank you for saving their life tenfold- he would never even have gotten a redemption story, or a mate, let alone a 700 page book. He would be the most hated character in the series but because it’s Nesta and she’s a woman and y’all pose her as this feminist it’s okay that shes abusive all throughout the series.

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justoneday-namjoonii · 4 years ago

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Don’t Breathe | 5.0

»Genre: hitman!au || stalker!au ||

»Warnings: kidnapping, stalking, obsession, themes of borderline Stockholm syndrome and Lima syndrome, brief mono-phobia, mature elements, manhandling, breakdowns, guns, yandere (? i think ), he thinks it’s cute when she cries, eventually they fall in love, Disclaimer: I do not condone nor suggest stalking/kidnapping or anything of that nature, this is pure fiction ok, kidnappers and stalkers DO NOT love you.

»Summary: He doesn’t get shaky hands, he never forgets his gloves and he never leaves a trail. He was paid to get rid of everyone who witnessed the exchange between a gang lord and a politician, they were picked off, one by one. He found out a month later, he missed one. A young writer who attended the event where the exchange took place. He has to kill her. Can he do it?

✤ pt.1 - pt.2 - pt.2.5 - pt.3 - pt. 3.5 - pt. 4.0 - pt. 4.5 - pt. 5.0 - pt.5.5 - pt.6.0

a/n: this is a heavy and wordy chapter so bare with me, we’re almost at the finale! thank you for reading and i hope u enjoy!💖

taglist: @tangledsparkles @just-another-fangurl21 @impartoftoomanyfandoms @komorebi-unnie @tangledsparkles @yes-sol-not-soul (sorry :( tumblr won’t let me tag you) @sarzkh31

When you woke up this morning, you felt nauseous, sick to your stomach. Last night, while you were sleeping, he packed up some basic necessities and put them in his car. He said Yeosang would be by soon to officialese everything and that you could relax until then. But you can’t, you’re head hurts so bad, you want to throw up.

“I was in the other room but I didn’t hear you get up, I would’ve made you breakfast,” Taehyung leans against the bathroom door frame and watches you, you’re dressed and he’s wondering how he missed you waking up and showering. You’re busy brushing your teeth, still wanting to pass out from how bad your headache is, but you decide against it.

“Did you sleep well?” You nod, spitting in the sink with the running water. He tilts his head, already picking up on your change in demeanor. Taking a step towards you, he lifts your chin to get you to look him in the eye, “Hey, I know that face, look at me,” Concern coats his expression and you will yourself to finally look at him, “what’s wrong?”

“I’m just- I don’t know, I’m nervous about all of this,” You walk past him into the bedroom, the beautiful bedroom you’ll probably never get to share with him again, “what if things don’t work out? What if your friend can’t help us, then what?” You sit on the edge of the bed, hugging yourself at the thought, the terror you would endure if this all went south. “I’m scared, I have this bad feeling, it’s making me really uneasy...”

“I know,” Taehyung can’t say he’s never had those thoughts, it plagues his mind too. The thought of no longer having the comfort of each other, the joy in your smiles and laughter being taken, it’s scary. Kneeling in front of you, he takes your hands into his with a light squeeze.

“I know it’s scary, and we’re taking a huge risk,” He tilts his head, puppy-dog eyes peering into your weary ones, “but I promise, I’m doing what’s best to keep us safe and together, alright baby?” He caresses the side of your face with the back of his hand, but the affection makes you pout rather than feel better.

“Hey, and guess what? Once this is all over, we’ll be shopping at local markets to buy fresh produce for us to cook with,” He smiles, trying to lighten up your mood with the dreamy idea, “we can paint whatever we can get our hands on, with whatever paint you want, you can write stories and poems during picnics, we could do whatever your heart desires, we’ll have a new life together,” He thumbs at the backs of your hands, tugging at your heartstrings to get you to smile. “I’ll even get you a puppy if you want one, doesn’t that sound perfect?”

You can’t help but form a little grin at the thought. “It does...”

“That’s what’s waiting for us bunny, we just have to wait for a little while,” He sits up to cup the back of your neck and places a firm kiss on your lips, so soft and warm but short-lived when he pulls away, “so give me a little smile, please?” You oblige, smiling down at him and he pinches your chin with a giggle.

"There you go, that’s my sweet girl,” He stands up and takes you with him, arms wrapped just at your thighs to keep you above ground, “why don’t you go get a few paintings to take with you, while I pack up a few things, and you can wear my favorite bracelet for good luck,”

”Pack?” You sigh, feet hitting the ground when he let’s you go. He slips off the black threaded bracelet and tightens it around your wrist with a smile. “Do you want me to help-”

“You go, I got it,” He holds your head in his hands and kisses between your brows with an audible smooch which made you laugh, “go on.”

With a pat on your butt, you’re making your way out of the bedroom and down to the basement. When you get down there, you realize the number of paintings you have. There are about ten to fifteen finished paintings and the others are unfinished. The little story that’s being written is illustrated in this painting, wonder and lover is illustrated in these paintings. In your attempt to pick a few, you notice the little cushion he got for you months ago. Sometimes, it doesn’t even register to you that once you were stuck down here, fighting and dying to leave this place. Now you’re almost in tears at the thought of having to leave.

But you’re new life is ahead of you, you should be happy.

Leu is facing a political nightmare, there’s a chance he won’t recover from this. Scandals happen all the time, affairs, bribery, on rare occasions, perjury. But seldom is a man of his prowess busted for abetting in multiple murders. There’s no coming back from this. He’s been tracking the phone for a few weeks, and only recently did he realize it was active recently. He completely missed it. When he arrived at the police station, he gave one of the detectives the phone number to hopefully track. He’s been waiting in a room filled with computers and busy interns, just waiting for results. When he considers leaving the room for another bland coffee, he gets a phone call. Looking down at the screen, he sees who it is and decides to answer it.

Yoongi dismisses himself and steps into the hall, “Hello?”

“Jin told me you all found the person who hired the group that killed all those people and took Y/n, is that true?” She sounds hopeful.

“We found him. I can’t reveal too much but we’re hammering down on the search, trying to track the location of the cellphone.”

“I hope she’s okay,” Her voice falters a bit, “there are some sick people out there, I just pray she’s not with one of them.”

He has to cut the call short when one of the tech people waves aggressively to get his attention.

“We just got a location,” The woman beckons him back into the room, “it’s about an hour and a half away from here, in what looks like one of the upper-class neighborhoods on the east-side.”

Yoongi walks over to the computer, eyes skimming over the estimated location of the cellphone. “The phone was traced to that location?”

He’s surprised that your phone would be in such a nice area, but then again he knows what the Hwan Group has been rumored to do. They’ve sold they’re victims to high-paying old men and women who’re looking to fulfill their sick desires in innocent people. It’s repulsive. He can’t help the churn he feels in his stomach when the thought of a person being used like that crosses his mind. In his career in the FBI and even as a PI now, he’s seen some shit. And no matter how many times he’s walked in on dead bodies, shackled victims, bloodied crime scenes, seeing people mistreated makes him sick. But what keeps him doing this is the chance, the small but promising chance that the victim might be alive.

“How long was it on?”

“Not sure, but it was turned on about 2 hours ago and then shut off, must’ve died,” She types a string of letters and another tab pops up, “this is the address.” Promptly, the printer in the corner of the room spits out the paper with the address and she rolls her chair over to it.

“If she’s anywhere, here is your best bet.”

The room is filled with men in black gear, heavy leather boots, and guns on their hips. When Minho gives the word, they all pile into the van and Minho gets in the backseat of his car—he tells the driver to wait before pulling out.

“Shit,” He lets out a deep sigh, dress-shirt feeling too tight on his neck. “he brought this on his self, he brought this on his damn self and he didn’t give me any other choice, right?”

Jimin sits beside him, nodding his head in agreement. “Absolutely, he can’t blame you for this, he knows the price of the job,”

“Doesn’t make it any easier, out of everyone, he was the last person I thought would pull something like this, I still don’t fully believe it-”

“Well,” Jimin interjects, making a thoughtful expression, “maybe he did kill the target and he’s just being hush-hush about it, the girl could’ve put up a fight or- I don’t know, anything could have happened.”

“Maybe,” He takes out his phone, pressing a contact, “but I’m going to give him one more chance,” Waiting for a few seconds, deep down inside he hopes Taehyung will answer. Sadly, the call goes to voicemail and he sets the phone down and sighs, there’s nothing else he can do.

“He didn’t answer, he’s buying time,” Jimin confirms the inevitable, “he knows what he’s doing, it’s best we confront him now.”

Minho pats the back of the driver's chair. “Go ahead.”

He was plundering through the drawers when he found your cellphone stacked on a small pile of books. Assuming he’d be able to wipe it, he tucked is into the little bag along with a few of the books he knew you liked to read. Packing up this stuff reminds him of the night he took you from your house, the night that changed his life. It had been after so much time watching you, learning our lifestyle. He knows now that if he had a chance to learn all of that about you in a different circumstance, like as friend that would slowly morph into something more, he’d take that chance.

The buzzing of his phone pulls him from his thoughts, thinking it was Minho again, he was about to ignore it, but he peeks at the screen to see that it’s Yeosang. Quickly, he answers the call and presses the phone to his ear.

“Hey, I’ve got some good news and some bad news. Good news, the condo is in your name and ready to go. The bad news is, the flights have been delayed due to bad weather, it’s about a 2-hour delay, could be more.”

“Shit, that would happen,” Taehyung presses his temples, “how close are you?’

“About 45 minutes? Something like that. Do you want me to get her to the airport and you drive separately or do you want me to-”

“If you pick her up that’ll be fine but I was hoping for both of us to get out of here sooner than that,” He zips up the backpack and leaves the room with the flick of the light, “Minho tried to call me and I didn’t answer, he knows something,”

“I want to help you guys,” Yeosang stresses, “maybe you could drive all the way and take a flight from a city further down.”

“That might work if I leave right now,” Taehyung mentally flips through his options and the possibilities are starting to grow slimmer in his mind, “you know what, listen out for me, I need to get her ready. I’ll call you back when we’re in route.”

Taking the little bag with him, he goes downstairs and searches for his computer, but he realizes it’s packed away. He was going to see if there were any loose strings that he might now have noticed.

That’s when he hears a heavy knock on the door. He stands frozen, waiting for a second knock. There is a second knock and a booming voice from the other side.

“Kim! I know you’re in there.”

it’s too late, he’s here. Without a second to lose, he runs down to the basement where you’re peacefully admiring your first painting.

All of a sudden, he hugs you and the painting falls from your grasp, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, he’s here,” He goes to turn off the light and you pick up the painting down to put it back, barely registering what he’s saying, “you need to hide while I buy us some time.”

“Wha- What? No, I want to stay with you,” Your hands are shaking and you feel like you’re getting that sick feeling again—this can’t be happening. “Tae, don’t leave me, what if something happens to you?-”

“Shh, it’ll be okay, I need you to hide under here,” He guides you over to the tiny space under the staircase, gesturing for you to kneel down. You do as he says and he kneels in front of you, every fiber in his body telling him to stay by your side, but he knows he can’t. He holds you in a warm embrace as if it was the last time, he always does it like it’s the last time. “It’s okay, just stay here.”

With that, you’re left in the pitch-black basement, curled up under the stairs, and wishing this was all just a bad dream. But the sound of the front door opening gives you the confirmation that this is your worst nightmare coming to life.

He opened the door a few minutes ago, Minho and Jimin had pushed past him to get inside, about ten suited-up guys follow and the door slammed on there way in. With little struggle, they had Taehyung sit on the couch while Minho paced in front of him as his team tears the place apart.

“I didn’t want to do this to you.” That’s the first thing Minho says.

“I can see that,” Tae responds plainly.

“You brought this upon yourself you know,” Minho stands in front of him, hands in his pockets with a cold glare on his face, “whatever the hell you were trying to do, it’s over now.”

Taehyung stays quiet, pissing Minho off even more.

“Do you know what you’ve done to this organization? We’re on the radar because you took that woman. Now the cops are involved, they’re onto us and they won’t stop until they find her. Why choose to go rogue now? Your contract ends in a year and you decide to spend it ruining your reputation? Out of everyone in the company, you were the last person I thought I’d have to worry about, you were my absolute best, and now that’s all gone to hell,” He bites his bottom-lip, getting impatient with Taehyung’s unchanging demeanor, “do you even care?”

He just stares at him blankly.

“Nothing upstairs,” About three guys come from downstairs.

“Downstairs is clear,” The others emerge from the other parts of the house, also empty-handed, "no signs of a body or that anyone else was living here sir-”

“Check again!” Minho snaps, kicking the coffee table across the room with a loud curse, “Look outside, tear the damn place apart if you have to, she has to be somewhere.”

He goes on and on, going red in the face he’s so livid, Taehyung was his favorite. The fussing becomes a bit repetitive to Jimin, so he decides to go off and do his own search, that’s when Tae gets truly nervous for the first time, Jimin has a knack for finding the unsuspecting.

Footsteps can be heard throughout the entire house. You only flinch when you hear a loud thump, like a table being thrown or broken against the wall. You brace yourself, placing your hands on your ears until the footsteps cease. You breathe in and out shallowly, trying to listen for Taehyung. You haven’t heard him once, not one sound.

Your heart drops when you hear the high pitched squeak of the basement door opening. Light slips into the darkroom. Heavy footsteps on the stair-well reverberate against your ears.

He’s a painter? He would be, wouldn’t he? A man mumbles to himself. Peeking from behind the wooden beam that’s shielding you, you see a man with shiny black hair looking at your paintings. You close your eyes and cover your mouth, tears pricking at your eyes from the sheer suspense of it all. Your body is shaking, sweating and the need to gasp for more air becomes critical to your sanity. But you hold it in, you block out the rapid heartbeat pounding against your rib-cage.

“Where are you...” He speaks clearer now as if he knows you’re here as if he knows you’re trying to block him out. Eyes squeezed shut, your curl in on yourself, trying so hard not to make a sound. His footsteps become louder, his shadow appears on the wall opposite of you like a lurking monster, seeking to cause you nothing but terror. In contrast, he hums a little song softly.

If you close your eyes, he’ll go away, just close your eyes and he’ll go away.

“There you are,” You look straight at him and your fight or flight kicks in. You try to make a run for it but he easily grabs you, “hey! Stop- Stop fighting, I’m not gonna hurt you! Calm down-”

You scream but he clamps a hand over your mouth. Squirming violently, you try to bite his hand but he removes it before you can. He fights to drag you upstairs as you cry out for help. “Let go of me!”

When Taehyung hears your cries, all that goes through his mind is that he has to be with you. He darts past Minho to get to you but one of the guys tackle him to the ground. He calls out to you anyway, “I’m here! Y/n, it’s okay,”

Minho’s thrown off by what he thinks is a loving tone, “Keep him down.” He orders the men as he waits for the squealing female to be brought to him.

“Here she is, found her hiding under the staircase,” Jimin emerges with a smile and a red scratch on his brow courtesy of you, “she is very much alive.” He drops you on the ground in front of Minho. On your hands and knees and you look up with weary eyes.

“Oh Taehyung, you’ve been hiding her this entire time, you lied to me,” He kneels in front of your trembling form, head tilted and a hand reaching out to cup your jaw, “she is a pretty little thing, I get it. But if you wanted to keep her, why didn't you just say so? That could have been arranged,” You jerk away, “I just never thought you were the type to want toys like this.”

“That’s not what this is, she’s not a sexual object,” The men pull Tae to his feet and he finally sees you, on the ground, paralyzed with uncertainty, “I’ve been protecting her from you.”

“When have you ever protected a target from me? You take the job, I never force you to take a fucking job, Kim. This is your fault because you missed her and then had to go back to the job, then you watched her for too long and got attached, the very thing I warned you about that when you first joined.”

You look back at Taehyung, searching for some type of comfort in his eyes, but you’re stalled by the painful sting in your scalp, “Ow!-”

“This woman?” He fists your hair, pulling you to your feet. You grasp his wrist to try to loosen his grip but it only tightens, sending a burn down your back tears to your eyes. It’s deliberate torture for Taehyung to watch because he can’t do anything about it.

“This fucking woman should have been dead, and since you fucked everything up, I have to take care of her myself. But I don’t get it, you’ve killed dozens before, she shouldn’t have been a problem, but you got obsessed and she just had to be yours, didn’t she? That’s pathetic.” He shakes his head, disappointed.

“Do you not remember? You signed the contract for 7 years, you don’t get to experience real love in this job, and you know that better than anyone. How could anyone love you after what you’ve done? You’ve told me that countless times, what’s with the sudden change in heart?”

Taehyung looks away for the first time, it’s all true, when Tae signed the contract, he was sure he’d never have to worry about being attached to anyone. He didn’t love anyone, and no one loved him or ever could, so the job was perfect. No worried messages from a mother, disappointing looks from a father— if he has no one, there’s no one to disappoint, no one to secretly hate him. He ruled out the possibility that someone would ever want to love him, truly love him. Then came you and he loved, he was loved.

“She doesn’t deserve to this, she doesn’t deserve to die. She didn’t do anything wrong,” Taehyung looks into in your eyes, trying to communicate to you, trying to think of a way to get out of here, “I swear, if you touch her-”

“Don’t give me that shit, you’ve killed all kinds of people, good, bad and in between, what makes her any different?-”

His sentence is cut short when Taehyung suddenly jerks against the men holding him and he gets free. He gets a hold of the gun and points it at Minho. Your hair is released but the man now holds you with an arm anchored around your neck.

“Let her go,” Taehyung takes short strides towards you two as the barrel of the gun stays square to Minho’s forehead, “you know I’m a straight shot, I could kill you right now,” He cocks the gun, the action making you shutter, “get your hands off of her.”

“You won’t do it,” Minho is already holding it to your head, arm secured around your neck. “if you kill me, you kill her, that’s not what you want,” He shoves the barrel against your scalp and you bite your lip hard to stop from sobbing. “I will kill her if I have to, then this will all be over. But if you put that gun down, and do exactly what I say, she stays alive, I promise.”

“Tae- Taehyung,” You manage to choke out, clawing at Minho’s arms frantically, “please-” He tightens his grip on your poor neck and that’s when Taehyung raises his hands in surrender and he’s immediately brought to his knees.

“Alright! Just stop, stop! She can’t fucking breathe! Please,” As soon as they take the gun, Minho throws you on the hard floor and you gasp for air, coughing violently as you brace on your hands and knees, “do what you want with me, just don’t hurt her.”

“Huh,” He groans, clicking his teeth in contemplation, “since you are my favorite and you’ll probably never see her again, why don’t you give her some love before you go? I’ll give you that at least.”

Taehyung down looks at you then at Minho. “What?”

“I’m giving you a chance to say goodbye,” Minho nudges you with his hand, making you flinch, “hurry up before I change my mind.”

The men are still holding him, his arms behind his back. He bites back tears as you sit frozen, mirroring his pained expression. “Y/n, it’s okay,” He calls for you, pulling against the retrains, “come here, baby,” You begin to crawl over to him, but you’re still hesitant to get near the people holding him, “let go! What the fuck do think I’m gonna do?!-”

“Let’m go, he won’t do anything stupid.”

Once he’s freed, he cocoons you in his arms, his body is warm and his energy is calm as he cradles you close. Minho stops to observe a version of Taehyung he has never witnessed before. He’s on his knees, holding you to his chest as you cling to him. Your knuckles must be white from how hard you’re gripping his shirt. Your eyes are squeezed shut, you’re shaking, petrified with the thought of never feeling this again. You can’t live like that, you could die without this. “T-Tae, don’t let them t- take me, don’t let them take me-...” You hiccup through your sobs, holding on to the little bit of affection that might be the last.

“Shh, I’ll fix this,” He whispers just low enough for you to hear, “I promise...”

You feel his hand go to your hair and he pulls your head back to bring your lips to his—you can’t live without this. He parts his lips, kissing you as if you two were the only ones in the room, as if you’re in bed, heart-to-heart, feeling loved. Shamelessly, you push against him for more and you can taste your tears, are those your tears and his tears?

“My God,” Minho tucks the gun back in its holster with a scoff, “from the looks of it, you’d think he actually loves her.” Minho makes a thoughtful expression, smirking down at Tae who’s resting his head on your shoulder as you hold him tight. He signals at Jimin who’s watching the scene with interest, “Okay, that’s enough.”

The embrace is broken when you’re ripped away and Taehyung is tackled to the ground with loud cursing. You let out heartwrenching sobs, eyes glazing over with sheer horror, “No! Please! I’ll do anything, I won’t say anything about this I swear! Just don’t do this, please!”

Minho dismisses you entirely, more interested in Tae’s reaction. “That’s all it takes?” Minho walks over to him, laughing when Jimin and another guy struggling to hold him back, “Years of training and killing, and it only takes her to break you?”

“Go to hell.”

Minho shakes his head with a sigh, pitying him. “Put her in the car.”

Yoongi is in the car with two other officers ready to give the signal any time now. He knows something is going on but whatever happens, he’s determined to get you home safe. When he looks into the house from the car he sees a shadow pass the front window.

He holds the button on the com. “We’re moving in now.”

It was a blur when it all happened. You were crying and being dragged away from when the door burst open. Officers stormed the house. Guns go off and your ears ring painfully. They rush in and so many people are everywhere—your oasis, your little paradise is being made a battleground. You cry when the man holding you bumped into a vase and drops you near it. He flees out the back door, but you’re frozen, everything is in disarray but the one person you do see is Taehyung who’s being handcuffed along with so many others. He mouths something but you can’t make it out. He shakes his head, you don’t know what he’s saying, what is he trying to say?

“I’ve got her, she’s here!” A man is yelling to the others, you didn’t register he was kneeling beside you.

“Y/n, we’re here to help you, you’re safe now,” He moves to block your view from what’s happening behind him. You don’t verbally respond, but your eyes are teary, breathing rapid, lips trembling.

“She’s hurt! I’m taking her out.”

You’re having derealization episode, or a panic attack, or both. You might be looking at him, but you’re acting like you don’t know where you are, you’re not even aware of the wound on your leg.

Who is this man?”

“Who are you?...” You speak for the first time, and you pear at him with wavering eye-contact, his eyes look kind.

“Yoongi. I’m going to pick you up, is that okay?” You nod after he wraps your leg tightly with his jacket, he lifts you into his arms and carries out of the house.

You can’t see Taehyung, you don’t know where they took him. Yoongi notices how you twist in his arms to look behind him, hoping to catch a glimpse of someone or something, he doesn’t know. All you see are a bunch of officers and Minho’s people being cuffed and shuffled into squad cars.

You’re taken past all of the squad cars and put you in the back seat of a black SUV and Yoongi disappears. A woman kneels down to tend to your leg, when did your leg start bleeding? You frown down at her when she cuts you pant-leg, tossing the denim to the ground, she notices instantly.

“My name is Chloe, sweetheart. I’m a paramedic, I just need to stop the bleeding until you can get stitches,” Her lips are moving, you know they are but you have no idea what she’s saying.

She mumbles to the man beside her, an EMT, give her the shock blanket. With a small nod, the man scurries off and returns with a silver tarp-like material and wraps it around you with gentle hands.

That man called Yoongi comes back and he’s talking on the phone with someone, he pushes back his middle-parted black hair and gets in the passenger's seat. Chloe finishes wrapping your leg and gently puts your legs in the vehicle, hooks you in your seat-belt, and promptly closing the door to seal you inside. This is too much, this wasn’t supposed to happen, this wasn’t supposed to happen. You start heaving, hand on your chest and body rocking back and forth to soothe yourself. They think they’re saving you, they’re not saving you.

They’re tearing everything apart.

“Wait one second,” Yoongi moves the phone from his ear and looks back at you, the color has left your face completely. Your hands are shaking and it feels like there’s a heater right in front of your face.

Yoongi reaches his hand back to get you to calm down but you don’t even look at him, your stomach aches all too much for you to acknowledge him. “Y/n, breathe, okay? You have to take deep breaths and calm down, you’re safe-”

You kick the door open and you’re expelling any food you had left in your stomach on the curb.

He sighs, quickly unbuckling his seat-belt to, “I’ll call you back,”

“We brought her to the infirmary,” Yoongi paces outside of the room, “looks like the place was being ransacked when we got here, we don’t know who the culprit is but the most important thing is that she’s safe now. When the doctor thinks she can undergo questioning, I’ll head over.”

“Good. The other officers arrived not too long ago, a majority of them won’t talk but they’ll stay in holding until you get back,” Eunwoo pauses, “how’s she doing? Is she all there, are there any signs of abuse?”

Yoongi sighs, taking a seat on the bench. “Don’t know yet, she hasn’t talked much. I don’t know if we should do the questioning today but I’ll talk to her after the doctor talks to me,”

“Alright, let me know when you’re headed over.”

It smells so sterile, you want to throw up again but you settle for staring at the nurse who just finished bandaging the stitches. When she leaves, another woman comes in.

“Y/n, how are you feeling?” She adjusts her glasses, getting a little closer when you don’t respond. “Everything is happening so fast, yeah? I can’t say I know what you’ve been through, but I know you're probably overwhelmed.”

You nod.

“I won’t bombard you with a bunch of questions, I’m just here to make sure you’re physically okay. Your vitals are good but is there anything going on with your body that you might be concerned about?”

You shake your head no, not maintaining eye-contact by any means—she notes that.

“Okay, do you mind if I check to make sure everything's okay? I’ll need your consent to do a full-body exam and I’ll have a chaperone with me, but if you’re not comfortable with that, I 100% understand.” Again, you nod with a small yes when she asks for verbal confirmation. She puts on some gloves before instructing you to sit on the edge of the bed and she goes to get a young woman in sky-blue scrubs.

He’s been waiting for about an hour and he stands to his feet when the woman comes out of the room with a clipboard.

“How is she?”

She holds the clipboard to her chest with a sigh. “We finished the physical exam, and there are no signs of sexual abuse or physical abuse, she’s quite healthy considering. As far as her mental health goes, it’s hard to tell right now. She’s obviously really overwhelmed by everything, this is probably going to be a trauma that she lives with for a while, she’ll need a psychiatric evaluation. I know you’re apart of the investigation but if you want to question her, talk to her to see how she feels about it first.” She walks off to the nurse's station but turns to say one more thing.

“You know, I heard about her in the newspaper, her news publisher has a whole story on her. Thank God she’s alive, not all stories end so fortunately.”

Yoongi walks past her and into the room quietly, you look up at him and then down at your hands.

“Do you feel a little better?” He walks to your bedside, eyes drifting down to your bandaged leg.

“H-...How did you find me?...”

“We’ve been looking for you nonstop. Today we were finally able to track your cellphone, we only hoped you’d be at that location. It’s been 8 months since the day you were reported missing, and for 8 months I’ve made finding you my main priority.”

You furrow your brows, looking at him as if he were speaking a foreign language. “It’s been 8 months?...”

“I know a lot is going on but we need some answers from you. I understand if you’re feeling up to it, but would you be able to come with me and answer some questions for us at the police station? If you don’t feel up to it then-”

“I’ll do it..” You answer too quickly.

Just like that, you’re at the police station sitting across from Yoongi and the officer over the investigation, officer Cha Eunwoo. They gave you a glass of water and you’ve chugged it down. You’re so jittery, your mind is everywhere.

“Y/n, do you know why you were kidnapped?” Eunwoo comes back with another cup of water and you watch him sit back down.

“I was told it was because of a politician who had it arranged that I be killed...

Yoongi writes something down and you swallow, wondering what he’s writing down.

“The house you were rescued from, is that where you’ve been living?”

“Yes...But-” You bite your lip, tears welling up in your eyes, “...I’m not hurt, the person I was with kept me safe, the man I was with, he's not the bad guy...”

The two of them look at each other puzzled, then at you. They question whether they heard that correctly.

“Who? Y/n,” Yoongi begins softly, “are you saying you were being protected?” You nod, pout ever so present on your lips. “Who was protecting you?”

You bite your lip, stopping yourself from saying his name, you shouldn’t say his name. They don’t know who he is yet, and maybe there’s a chance he’ll get out of this. As your mind reels, the two of them watch you, teary eyes laser-focused on the black bracelet on your wrist.

“Can you tell me who was with you in that house?” Yoongi asks again but you won’t look at him now. “Was it multiple people, or just that one person?”

You press your lips, nodding subtly. “It was multiple people?” You shake your head. “So it was just him,” He glances up from his notepad and you don’t indicate an answer, so he takes that as a yes, “did you ever leave the house?”

Eunwoo stands to his feet, stirring curiosity from you and Yoongi. “Min, can we have a word in private?”

Albeit confused, Yoongi nods, following the officer out into the other side of the two-way mirror where the other officers are.

“The hell? She was just giving us some good information.”

“Let me take this over, we have about a dozen people and we need to identify and interrogate all of them. But right now, we need the man who did this to her, that’s all.”

“She might not respond well to that, she’s obviously troubled, the pressure isn’t going to help.” Yoongi glances at you from the corner of his eye. “I think she trusts me a little more, so I should finish this.”

“I’ve interrogated hundreds of victims before, I think I can handle this. You can step in if she gets irate.” Yoongi can already sense how there’s an obvious shift in your demeanor when you notice that Yoongi’s isn’t accompanying him.

“Y/n, what happened to you was not your fault, but the person who did it needs to be dealt with. You were kidnapped, held hostage against your will, and no matter what that person might have told you, there are people who care about you that have been looking for you. You’re a victim and the person who did this to you will not get away with it. The man who had you and multiple others killed is already in our custody, he stands trial tomorrow. Now, we just need to get the others. Can you help us do that?”

You look at the one-way mirror. “Where’s the other guy, Yoongi, why didn’t he come back?...”

He evades the question. “Did he ever tell you his name?” Eunwoo glances at the one-way mirror before softening his tone. “Y/n, do you know his name?”

You frown, looking down at the bracelet on your wrist. “Does my family know I’m here?...”

“Y/n, we are going to let your family know but you have to realize what’s going on here. Senator Leu, who is standing trial today, hired someone to have you killed, but they didn’t kill you and we need to know why. Is he threatening you?... Is that why you won’t tell us anything?”

You swallow, throat feeling incredibly dry, face heating up. You chug down the second glass of water, it only cooled you down for just a moment.

Yoongi watches with a trained eye. You having to talk to Eunwoo alone was not a good idea. Gathering that this interrogation is going to end pretty soon, he decides to go ahead and contact your family.

“I don’t feel well,” You blink slowly, handing going to your stomach, “can I get some more water?...”

“Sure,” He can’t deny you water, but he knows when someone is avoiding questions, “but before I get that, I need you to tell me who did this to you.”

You look at him and like a rehearsed scene, you queue the tears. The discomfort on Minho’s face indicates the foolish decision he made to interrogate you alone.

“Y/n,” He looks you over and wonders why you keep messing with the black bracelet on your wrist, “that’s a nice bracelet, is it yours?”

Wiping your tears, you scramble for an answer, “Yes, it’s-...It’s mine.”

“So, if we ran a DNA test on it, the only prints on it would be yours?... Or, was this bracelet given to you by someone, maybe by the man who had you all this time?”

You lower your head onto the table and cover your face with your arms, Yoongi presses his temples—you’re not budging, but Eunwoo insists. In the meantime, he decides to step in the hall and make a few calls to your job, family, and friends.

“Why does it matter!?” You snap, eyes burning red. “It’s mine and if you want it, you’ll have to pry it off of my dead body, I won’t let you take it off for anything, it has nothing to do with this...”

“You’re making this harder than it has to be, you know that, don’t you?” He reaches into his pocket and holds a fist in front if you.

“Remember this? Suzy said you wouldn’t be caught dead without it, but it was on the floor in your house. Is that bracelet just as special as this?” He opens his hand and there sits your favorite necklace, the one your parents gifted you years ago. As much as you love that necklace, this bracelet is just as special, it’s a piece of Taehyung.

You ball your fist, tears welling at your eyes, you don’t care. “Just leave me alone, I don’t wanna talk anymore...”

He sits on the uncomfortable steel bench, arms cuffed behind him. It’s dark, cold, and dreary, but the interior of this place is the least of his worries. He’s never been on this side of the bars, despite deserving it. The gate slides open suddenly, Taehyung can feel the guard's presence but he doesn’t bother looking up.

“Come with me.”

Without a word, he obliged, picking up his feet with heavy strides. The guard holds his arm tight, leading him through the halls to find interrogation room 12.

“Is interrogation room 12 open?” The guard talks to the officer standing at one of the many rooms lining the hall. The two of them strike up a conversation but Taehyung is listening to the conversation down the hall.

“She’s alright, I called her job and her mother, and Jin,” Yoongi paces, peeking down the hall to see the third culprit brought in for questioning, “there will be a lot of happy people when they find out she’s okay.”

“That’s great, I’m glad, I know the last case you had didn’t go this well,” Jungkook flips through the phony contracts that his recent client was given to sign, “I’m about to leave the firm so I’ll have to call you tomorrow, but if you need me to help with the case just let me know.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Yoongi bids him farewell and slips the phone in his pocket. The lawyer had helped a lot in the last missing person case Yoongi was involved in, the victim was in rough shape. It was a young woman kidnapped by an ex, it wasn’t a pretty outcome. The shape they found her in will always be ingrained in his memory, it haunts him that he couldn’t get to her sooner.

Yoongi walks down the hall and Taehyung watches him. He tries to do it in a subtle way, but that’s the man that carried you out of his home while he was being cuffed and pushed into the back of a cop car. Anger bubbled in his chest, the inability to call out to you, to take you into his arms, it hurt him to his core.

Yoongi spares him a glance before going back into the one-way mirrors viewing room and the door closes, preventing him from seeing inside any further. You’re a wreck. It only takes a few seconds for Yoongi to see you balling your eyes out as Eunwoo paces around you to barge in there to put a stop to it.

“I know you’re scared but you need to stop covering for that Man. You’re safe, he can’t hurt you now-”

“Hey,” Yoongi looks at him as if he’s grown a second head, he whispers, “stop, she’s completely shutting down. She needs to be physiologically evaluated before we finish this, look at her,” He gestures to you who’s trembling, breathing hitched with our inability to stop crying, “we can’t do this right now.”

He sighs, pulling Yoongi to a corner, “I’m sorry, I just, I hate to know that somebody did this to her and she won’t say anything, her Stockholm syndrome is on another level.”

“The owner of that house had to be the one who did it, just go to the research lab and they should be able to tell you. I’m taking her to the Melody’s Heart temporary safe house until her family can pick her up tomorrow.”

“Okay, I’m going to step out for a minute.” With that, Eunwoo leaves the room. it takes Yoongi talking you down for about 2 minutes to finally get you to stand up and walk with him. You sniffle, rubbing your eyes as Yoongi walks you out of the room and into the hall.

Taehyung is right there.

Your eyes widen and your gait slows, he’s right in front of you. Yet, the only thing connecting you is your gaze, this can’t be all there is left of your love. Yoongi leads you down the hall and you pull against him slightly. He notices your staring and that when the pieces come together. That’s him.

“Open room 12, officer Cha wants to have him interrogated separately.”

Taehyung watches you disappear, he can’t say anything and he can’t do anything. He gets pushed into the room and into a hard steel chair.

It’s sunset, they drove you about 20 minutes away somewhere, you weren't sure. A woman opened the front door to a huge house, and Yoongi opened your car door, helping you out with a hand. He walked by your side and went inside with you to sign some papers. The woman was kind, she had curly brown hair she was speaking to you with the softest tone. She kept saying you were strong, why was she saying that? With Yoongi lingering behind you, the woman that you know now as Melody takes you to a bedroom on the first level of the house. She said they prepared the room for you, there was even a change of clothes with toiletries on the bed.

“Can I get you anything, sweetheart? You’re our only resident tonight, so I’m all yours.” She’s nice but you don’t feel like company, you don’t feel like looking at any more new faces. You shake your head and she nods in understanding,

“Alright, then I’ll be here if you need anything, Mr. Min, I’m sorry but officers are actually not allowed in the bedrooms of the residents-”

“I’m not an officer, I helped with the case,” He turns to her so you can’t see his face and speaks lowly, “I just need to talk to her for a few minutes, I won’t be long.”

“Alright, just let me know when you’re headed out.” She leaves from standing in the doorway and cracks the door and she heads to the surveillance room that doubles as a bedroom for her.

“Do you want to bathe? I’ll leave if so and we can talk after.” You’ve kicked your shoes off, crawled to the edge of the queen size mattress and curled on your side facing the window. “So, I talked to your parents and they’ll be heading here tomorrow but Jin will probably be here first,”

”Jin?” You sit up, wondering why your ex-boyfriend has anything to do with this. “Why?...”

“He hired me to look for you, he’s the reason I got involved in your case.” Yoongi keeps a safe distance, the little camera hidden behind the plant reminds him of the high-security this place has. “Out of everyone, he called the most, almost every day to get updates about you.”

For a moment, you wonder if he has the correct Kim SeokJin. Because the last encounter you two had was so brief, it was a run-in at the grocery and you two talked about your jobs. It was really adult-like of you, you picked out potatoes as you picked up small-talk with an old flame. But there was no romantic love left, that boat had sailed a long time ago and your brief love for wine replaced it. He’s always cared about you, but you never thought he would be waiting for you.

“I have to go but I’ll be back in the morning, do you need anything before I go?” You shake your head, not wanting to be around him or anyone else any longer. It’s too much, it’s too much for you to handle all at one time and you just want to go to sleep. Maybe you’ll wake up, and this will all be a bad dream, and you’ll be in his arms. He said he would fix this, how is he going fix this?...

Yeosang waited for hours, he called Taehyung at least five times and he has yet to get a response. Something went wrong. In efforts to figure this out, he drove all the way from the meet-up spot to Tae’s house. He could tell the place had been intruded on, Tae never leaves his car outside of the garage at night. He pulls into the driveway, right beside the smokey black Audi R8. This isn’t like him to have gotten caught. The passports were ready, the new house was waiting, everything would have gone fine had the flight been earlier. He has to admit, he was looking forward to giving his good friends a chance at a happy life. He only met you once, but the way Tae talks about you, you two are clearly in love. If he knows Taehyung at all, he’ll receive a call in at least a few hours about what happened. He has to come out of this, that’s what Yeosang chants in his mind.

“So you own the house,” Eunwoo paces, coffee in flimsy Styrofoam cup as he takes a seat across from the culprit, “Kim Taehyung.”

Taehyung acknowledges him with a disinterested glance before staring down at the steel table separating them. He wonders if you’re still in the building, they were taking you away, but where were they taking you? After he was cuffed, he saw Minho’s men get cuffed but Minho and Jimin were gone. If he knows Minho at all, he’ll be back.

“Don’t you hear me talking to you?” Minho hits the table, causing Taehyung to finally looking at him. “Look, for some reason your record is clean. But if we find out that you were involved in any of these murders and this kidnapping, you’re looking at a hefty sentence. Just admit it, you saw a pretty, successful girl living all alone and you thought, why not take her? Are you threatening her, is that why she won’t reveal you?”

“There’s not a scratch on her, does it look like I threatened her?” Taehyung speaks for the first time, the very insinuation that the nature of this kidnapping was to harm you made him sick.

“So, you did it then?” He affirms.

Taehyung shrugs, expression too nonchalant for Eunwoo’s liking. “You know what, wipe that smug look off your face-”

“Cha,” Jaemin opens the door without warning.

“What?” He snaps. “Don’t you see I’m in the middle of something?”

“The chief wants to talk to you, he says it pertains to this case.”

With a resent glare at Taehyung, Eunwoo leaves the room with urgency. Jaemin, however, stays in the doorway, eyes fixated on the acclaimed Hwan Group member that he’s heard so much about from Minho. Kim Taehyung, his record is so clean, he doesn’t have so much as a parking violation on him. If he didn’t know who he was, Taehyung would fly under the radar in his book, he’s that convincing.

“What do you want?” Tae scrutinizes the man, eyes scanning him up and down.

“So you’re Kim Taehyung,” Jaemin closes the door with a soft click, “you really fucked this one up, it’s a shame too, Minho said you were the best. You ruined your record all for that woman-”

“Where did they take her?”

“That doesn’t really matter, let’s just hope Minho can work something out for you, he’s pissed right now,” He shakes his head in and ‘tsk, tsk’ way, “had you just done your job, you and that poor woman wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“She was crying when I saw her, what did they do to her?” He shifts in his chair. “Fucking answer me.”

“Look, stay quiet and you might get out of this alive, that’s all I can say,” And that’s all he says before quickly exiting the room, leaving Taehyung isolated in the cold room, head hung back against the chair. He’s tapping his foot, rhythmically, he’s jittery, anxious with thoughts about you. He promised he would fix this, how can he fix this when it’s so obvious that he’s got the least amount of control in this situation? Hold on Y/n, hold on.

Eunwoo rushes to the Chief's office and without a knock on the cracked door. he steps inside. He closes the door, “Chief, Jaemin said you wanted to see me?-...”

“Hello, Captain Cha.”

“Who are you? Where’s the Chief?“

“My name is Lee Minho, I’m sure you’ve heard my organization, the Hwan group. I know the chief and there’s been a bit of a misunderstanding here. The man you have in custody is a member and he’s only here because he made a mistake and my informant didn’t tell me who was on this case. You know of the Hwan group, the Chief has mentioned you and how you’ve dismissed some cases in compliance with the partnership we have.”

“This is really an HG case?” Minho nods. “The Chief never told me anything about dismissing this case. There were multiple murders and kidnapping, that’s not the typical HG favor.”

“That’s because the man assigned to the job often does high-profile jobs but stays under the radar. Unfortunately, he didn’t follow the instructions of the job. It was a multiple person execution but he had to go back and get that woman because he missed her. He led me to believe that she was dead but I found out recently that he’s been hiding her from me. I went to his house to confront him and here we are.”

“But the pardons I’ve made have never been for HG jobs that involved things like this. He murdered innocent people-”

“My organization has helped get rid of a lot of bad people and my people have worked in situations where cops just aren’t trained in. They get the job done if they chose to take it, no questions asked. Anyone who’s willing to pay can seek my group for help. They’re pawns, and Taehyung was one of my best. He takes a job and he does it, no sentiments attached. But for this woman, I don’t know,” He shakes his head at the thought, “he just couldn’t do it and that messed up everything, his reputation is screwed. Now I’m here trying to clean up his mess, a little. I’m sure you’ve spoken with our middleman, Na Jaemin, he was supposed to monitor this case to ensure things didn’t end up like this. But since it couldn’t be helped, I’m here to propose a deal.”

“Okay, what kind of deal? Because someone has to pay for this,” Eunwoo paces, “her disappearance has been televised and in the articles, she was a writer, people knew of her work from her publisher and they've been anticipating her return for months. We can’t just say she’s been found and then not give them any more than that. People will want to know where she’s been and who took her. Someone has to be held responsible other than Leu.”

“No, that’s not entirely true. We can arrange a cover story and Taehyung can be released to me.” He reasons. “And the girl stays free.”

“What about justice for her? She’s been-”

“Trust me, she’s not happy about this ‘rescue,’ it’s not what you think, she loves him.” Minho recalls the act of affection you two shared and how you pleaded to stay by his side, “I’m sure there are some psychological factors but at the end of the day, they are romantically involved, that’s probably why she’s so apprehensive to say anything, she doesn't want to say anything that might ruin her chances of seeing him again.”

“Woah...wait, I don’t think this is a consensual relationship if it were, why wouldn’t she say anything about is?”

He shrugs, “Doesn’t really matter at this point, here’s what needs to happen; I’ll take Taehyung back because he’s still under contract for a full year after this year ends, he has a job to do. In exchange, I’ll set up the cover story and the two of them can never make contact again, how does that sound?”

“Hm,” He takes a moment to consider the possibility of something going wrong, “them not making contact would put him in the clear and isolate her from any association with the group. That sounds foolproof but what if they don’t agree? If they’re together like you say, who’s to say she won’t rat on the group or he won’t try to find her anyway? I don’t see how we can get her to go back to her regular life.”

“She’ll never go back to her regular life, not really. I’ve known Kim for years, he’s not a monster but that doesn't change the fact that she was kidnapped, isolated from society for months and all she had was him. We’ll have to tell her what’s going on of course, but I doubt she’ll squeal if it means putting him in prison. They’ve said their goodbyes, it’s not a love story to be salvaged anyway. He doesn’t have a family he has very few friends and he has a ton of money, a huge house in a nice part of town, he’s got everything.”

“What if he refuses?”

Taehyung broke under the hand of a thing like you, the idea that he is emotionally impenetrable is long gone. Minho straightens the collar of his dress shirt and leaves the room to go deliver the news. “He doesn’t need her, his job doesn’t allow for distractions like her, and he knew that when he signed up; he’ll get over it.”

The door creaks and he expected it to be one of those officers, but Minho emerges with a guard who quickly walks over to take off the cuffs. Aside from the guard who just scurried out, Minho isn’t accompanied by anyone and he doesn’t look like he’s seen two seconds in a pair of handcuffs. He knew his boss had connections in high places but he never imagines it was to this extent.

“I am upset with you, Taehyung,” Minho circles around the chair, hands on the back of it, “you don’t know the strings I’ve had to pull to keep this quiet. What were you thinking? You knew the job, but you deliberately put your self in harm's way when you decided to hide her from me.”

“Had I told you she was alive, would you not have tried to kill her?” His tone bites.

“Probably, but it doesn’t matter what I would have done, you were supposed to do it.” He stresses. “I didn’t take the job Taehyung, you did.”

Tae diminishes a bit, the guilt of it all coming to the forefront of his mind. At the end of the day, no matter how many people actually wanted to harm you, he’s the one that signed up to do it. And it hurts, it hurts because he loves you, you love him and he doesn’t deserve if, but he wants it more than anything.

“Where is she?”

“I think they took her to some safe home, she got hurt but she got medical attention for her injuries. Now that she’s taken care of, I’m getting you out of here. I arranged a deal with the chief and it gets you out of this mess scotch free.”

“Okay...What’s the catch?” He knows there’s a catch, there always is.

“Your contract isn’t up, you have a little over a year left with the organization and despite how frustrated I am with you, you’re good at your job. You have to finish your contract.”

“And if I choose not to?” He asks daringly.

“If you choose not to, any immunity you have from the law because of the organization goes away, that will most likely land you in prison. But if you finish, your record stays clean.”

Tae doesn’t have to weigh his options to make a decision, but Minho hasn’t mentioned you. “What about Y/n? Will she be safe under this deal?”

“Of course, a cover-up story is arranged and she gets to go back to her everyday life,” He grins, “everyone's happy.”

A glimmer of hope comes to his eyes. “Then I can be with her, and no one will know about the kidnapping?”

“Oh, no. She’s staying here and you’re being transferred to the Europe division of the organization, you’ll reside in Bordeaux, France and travel throughout Europe for jobs. The deal is that you never see her again, it guarantees there can be no association between you two.”

“What? No, no...I can’t do that, I love her, she means everything to me. I won’t leave her, not without an explanation. We were gonna leave before you showed up, make a new life with all of this shit behind us,” His nose burns and he bites back a tear, “I-...I wanted to marry her one day, I can’t just leave her here.”

“You don’t have a choice, your flight leaves in the morning if you’re lucky they’ll let her out and you might be able to say goodbye one last time. Come on, we need to get out of here, you have to pack up. Do yourself a favor and try to forget about her, she’ll eventually do the same.”

This can’t be it, this can’t the end everything he’s built with you. He promised he would fix this, how can he fix this if he’s on the other side of the world? The thought of going to get you and running came to mind, but he can’t make you live like that, on the run like outlaws, he loves you too much. He has to fix this but you’ll have to wait. His heart aches, he knows you’re probably alone and confused. This is all my fault, this is my fault.

203 notes · View notes

sourbat · 4 years ago

Note

General, 9 for butter knife? 🥺

“Are they Dead?”

Summary: Charles surprises Magnus with dinner and a show. Guest starring Trindle and Melmord.

Warning: imprisonment; implied Stockholm Syndrome

It was late in the evening when, after another day filled with repetitious meandering in his cell, two hoods surprised Magnus with their unannounced presence. They gave no clues as to where they were taking Magnus, only wheeled him through the unseen, narrow corridors, and warned him when they were about to turn so he could bring his legs close. There was little point in asking any questions; the gears never shared what was in store for Magnus, and it wasn’t like he could flee once unstrapped from the wheelchair if they bothered to provide any unsavory news.

They wheeled him into what he assumed was a security room of some kind. It was the interior of a dark, massive shaft (perhaps the neck?) that stretched several levels high. Magnus rode up the elevator, gears at his side, trying to make some meaning of the red, eerie flashes caught between the levels: brief glimpses of klokateers heavily armed, others in front of computer monitors, a couple carting massive loads of what hopefully wasn’t bodies.

Charles greeted him at the topmost level, offering a silent nod the moment the sliding doors parted. One look around the large, blood-red dome had Magnus screaming “central hub.” The room was lined with screens, cameras and flashing lights, and klokateers attentively typing and clicking away at whatever task assigned to them. Magnus desired nothing more than to comment on Charles’ profuse megalomania, but as he was carted forward, caught the smell of something heavenly in the air that had his mouth filling with saliva.

Charles approached, passing Magnus’ left and briefly vanishing from existence, save for the sounds of his heels hitting the floor. “I hope he wasn’t any trouble. Take him to the table, then lock the wheels. I’ll take it from there.”

“Of course, Master Offdensen.”

The source of the delicious scents took the form of a small, clothed table set in front of a gigantic monitor. Adorning it was a set of finely polished silverware, napkins and crystal wine glasses. Magnus allowed his stare to linger on the knife resting beside a fork. A klokateer set Magnus on the side opposite to a single, empty chair. While the first gear locked his wheels into place, the second lifted a silver cover, unveiling a plate of the nicest looking steak Magnus had ever laid eyes on, with butter still melting and oozing all over the steaming center.

“What’s the occasion?”

“A celebration,” Charles answered plainly, taking his seat and giving the second gear permission to remove the cover to his meal. He returned, brows lifting slightly when met with Magnus’ befuddlement. “You don’t know?”

Magnus wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. Charles, his only source of information, the well of knowledge from which he refused to drink from. Not that it mattered. Thirsty or not, Charles would eventually supply him with a drop of the bucket, even if it meant forcing it down Magnus’ unwilling throat. Toki’s lapse in therapy, Miss Remeltindtdrinc’s continued success, news of Magnus’ past altercations with annoying hoods, a physician’s request for a change of prescription, or a paltry report detailing unveiled portions of an unfair prophecy.

He stared nervously at the delectable meal resting before him. The decadent smell of garlic mashed potatoes covered in scallions, and the pop of a klokateer freeing the cork from a bottle of dark red wine, alerted him that the information to be revealed could be drastic, potentially life-ending.

He grinned. “Refresh me.”

Charles took a napkin, placing it over his leg. “I’ve checked this month’s reports,” he said, grabbing a knife and fork. “You’ve been taking your vitamins. You, ah, also gained seven pounds.”

Magnus rolled his eyes. “Wonderful. Weight I cannot easily shave off.”

“You’re still under by twelve, but with some work, will be at a healthy weight.” Charles cut into the steak. It bled and oily, reddish bubbly broth that stewed near the roasted vegetables.

Magnus’s hand drifted over his silverware, unsure to take the knife. “And this warrants a steak?”

Since being locked in Mordhaus, the daily meals sent to his room, while a far cry from the fast food he used to sustain himself with, wasn’t nearly as rich in smell and appearance as the meal before him. Magnus picked up the knife. Charles continued to cut his, sawing a small piece of meat which he jabbed and picked up with his fork. Hesitantly, Magnus did the same. As far as he could tell, no gears had their weapons aimed at him, but he still gingerly brought the blade down in case someone trigger-happy hood mistook his hunger as a desperate try for revenge against Charles.

Charles swallowed. “No, your compliance.”

Magnus had made it as far as cutting himself a tasty morsel when the word smacked him across the face.

“It’s been several long, grueling months.” Charles shoveled a lump of creamy, golden mashed potatoes with his fork.

Grueling didn’t accurately cover the anguish Magnus endured since falling victim to Charles’ whims. Being locked in a tiny room, deprived of fresh air sunlight unless he behaved, performed simple tasks upon being handed the instruction, or forced to tolerate Charles’ presence and spend his days alongside him, working together and transcribing old English to unveil more hints of the incoming apocalypse. If he snapped at too many klokateers, refused a meal, medication, vitamins or Charles, then he was ignored, left without any means of entertainment other than the memories that persisted to haunt and fill Magnus’ nights with dread. He spent days alone with no books to read, puzzles to complete, pen or paper to bide through the long, endless hours. Not a person to acknowledge him, nor clock on the wall or light switch to help give a sense of time, no matter how false.

A few rounds of absolute, agonizing silence were all it took for Magnus to determine fighting Charles simply wasn’t worth the trouble. Magnus could handle manipulation, a fist to the face and a threat to his life, but Charles was hitting him where it hurt most, and Magnus couldn’t bear another reminder of his nonexistence, and not from the man he once loved so dearly. A man who, despite the cruelty, still cared for him. As difficult as it was to comprehend, Charles never laid a finger on Magnus, physically harmed or dared to take advantage of his current physical limitations, restricting all forms of punishment to just mental and emotional. And when the punishment finally ended, Charles always reintroduced Magnus to his bookshelves, television and access to the yard. He apologized when giving a punishment, explained his line of reasoning, and was quick to provide condolences when it was over, hands always reaching, hovering or ghosting over Magnus’ gaunt form, but never making contact unless given explicit permission. True, it could be just as well that Charles was enacting his own divine punishment, proving to Magnus that he didn’t need to harm him to make him bend, but since living within the harsh, deprecating confines of Mordhaus, Magnus wanted to believe this wasn’t the case.

Surely, the man serving him medium rare steak and French champagne was doing this as an act of tolerance, friendship even?

Charles continued: “You’ve been far from agreeable…but now.”

The words gripped Magnus by the throat, rendering him silent. Utensils lowered, their stares met one another’s. Magnus expected a snicker, eyes confidently framed into slits to better make out his discontent. Instead, Magnus couldn’t tell if it was just him, or the combination of bubbly alcohol and a candlelit dinner, but Charles stared at him with a smile he hadn’t seen in years. There were round, lifted cheeks, and that all-too straight grin that almost crossed the line from being endearing, to becoming a tad awkward.

“I feel like I can rely on you,” Charles said, “Like, ah…like we used to, when we were young.”

Charm aside, it was a difficult pill to swallow. Magnus dropped his stare, to his once decadent meal. It was hard to keep an appetite upon learning the meal was a celebration for his submission.

A hand settled over Magnus’ right. His eyes returned to Charles, and upon the second glance, made out those small features he spent hours admiring during long nights spent waiting for the bus, in line, or just from sharing the same space. Sharp tip of the nose that always glowed under the smallest of lights. Perfectly shaped eyebrows. The very subtle way the glasses hung down the bridge when he lowered his head to meet him.

Magnus stabbed at his roasted parsnips, finding it equally difficult to be mad at the man who continued to offer help during bathing, purchased whatever form of literature he demanded, when he was acting in accordance. He picked at his meal, taking small bites and savoring the rich taste of butter, fluffy texture of potatoes and steak that melted in his mouth. The few glances he made at Charles, no matter how brief, were always met with positivity.

Something about it frightened him.

“I have something I want to show you.”

Upon completion of their meal, Charles called a klokateer from the red depths of the room, and then offered Magnus two thick files. Magnus opened the first, revealing the photo of a young woman dressed entirely in high-end gothic fashion, staring wildly at him. The first thing he noticed about her was that she was a stranger, an unknown he’d never engaged with in his entire life. Yet, he knew there was a connection, something that Charles connected with him.

Magnus rolled a thumb over the faded blur of her nose piercing, eyes briefly engaging with the uniqueness of her name, then closed the folder. “What’s this?”

Charles snapped a finger. “Special cases.”

Klokateer approached with a tray. While they replaced Magnus’ wine glass with smaller, round cups, he picked up the second file, and like before, met another smile, this time from a man. Unlike the goth, the man in the photo appeared lax, if not in a slight, distant daze. The blond highlights in his hair made Magnus want to connect the man with the goth-woman; the goatee and length of his hair made Magnus hesitant to try and tie the stranger with him.

After locating the name, and finding it equally as alien as the woman’s, Magnus sighed. On the other side of the table, Charles was waiting, patiently.

Magnus lowered the second file. “Are they dead?”

The candles’ embers flickered. A devious smile manifested across Charles’ ivory face. Another snap from his long fingers, and the gigantic monitor resting before them turned on, sending Magnus into a state of shock. His wheelchair jolted as he tried backing away from the now active screen, locked wheels keeping him in place while he gathered himself. Displaying on the screen were two people in a small room. A rec room, with a few old arcade games, display cased lines with boxes, an old couch, and a long, rectangular table. Magnus squinted his eyes, making out the dark blur of a shapely figure standing at one end of the table, picking up a paddle and ball. Magnus recognized her as the same woman from the file. He turned to the second figure standing on the opposite side, a tall man with a broad frame, shoulder-length hair, and carrying a lazy grin.

They were playing ping-pong.

A ball bounced from one side to the next as the two jumped, stretched, and did what they could to earn a point. If Magnus didn’t know any better, he’d assume this was just a friendly game between acquaintances, but the files on the table, and the curious glint in Charles’ eyes, told Magnus there was something far more ominous at hand.

Just as Magnus turned from the screen, caught something hanging in the corner of the cluttered room. A calendar, and when Magnus set his eyes upon it, turned sickly pale at the discovery of the month.

“They’re like you,” Charles suddenly began, his voice a faint echo while Magnus slowly drew away from the calendar, back to the two unknowns playing ping-pong. “Dead to the world, but–”

“A never-ending source of entertainment for you,” Magnus harshly bit back. A hand hit the edge of the table, pulling some of the cloth down. Charles remained seated, but his chair had groaned, dragging from the unannounced outburst. Magnus heard it, and he took and rolled with it, hoping it would serve and supply him strength against Charles.

“I always knew you were a control freak, but this…” Magnus gestured morosely at the screen. “I must say, the voyeurism is taking me by surprise.”

“It’s necessary to monitor prisoners.” Charles appeared calm, but his hands were clasped tightly together, wrinkles deepening from the lowered brow and frown, and patience nearing its untimely end. Still the answer was quick, short and to the bloody point. It was, like everything else that came from Charles, practical to the point of being insufferable.

Magnus humored the idea of their being cameras in his room, and Charles, his once beloved, using the very same excuse to watch him struggle each time he transitioned from chair to bed, chair to toilet, chair to floor.

Frustrated, he heaved a dry laugh. “And you’re quite sure you never read the works of Harlan Ellison?”

Charles didn’t answer. Magnus hit the table again, sending one of the candles to topple on its side. The flame died on its way down, but the effect was immediate. Weapons were drawn, and Magnus could see fine red dots pin-pointed all over his arm, and when he fell back into the wheelchair, saw a dozen more spread across his chest.

Unaffected, Charles waited until Magnus sank into the wheelchair, momentarily defeated.

“Would you like to meet them?”

“Is that a threat?” Magnus asked, arms crossed, the only act of defiance he could get away with.

“An invitation,” Charles insisted, as though it changed a damn thing.

For whatever reason, Charles outstretched his arm, hand hoping to return and rest upon Magnus like it had minutes ago. When it crossed the halfway mark, Magnus withdrew, going as far back into his seat as he could without having to drag his lower half with him.

Charles sighed, dejected. “I know it must be lonely, what with you, ah–”

Magnus opened his mouth, ready to lash at Charles for even trying. He saw the calendar. Whether he’d been handed a live recording, or something saved from days, even weeks before, nothing could change the terrifying knowledge he had picked up on when his eye set on the estimated date.

A year. He’d been locked in Mordhaus for a year, and never noticed! Time had blended, blurred and stagnated into a concrete wall that he couldn’t pass nor break. He was getting along better with Charles, tolerating him and almost…a year. Charles had been training him for an entire year, and now, after months of arguing, spitting out his meds, saying nasty words and refusing to wheel himself around, Charles was celebrating a year of them together, and of the slow, but now blatantly apparent improvement of his condition from having broken Magnus at some point.

“I figured, after you and I finished with the scriptures, you might be willing to offer a helping hand with these two.”

And he had broken him, to some extent. Otherwise, why the candles, the steak and that smile? Why let him use a knife tonight, when so many other nights he’d been handed only the plastic spork, later the spoon and fork, but only when in the company of gears? The comment about his weight, about the future hard work to come; it all amounted to Magnus surrendering, complying with Charles and doing whatever it took to remain noticed, acknowledged, alive.

“Well?” Charles’ voice broke through the fury building inside Magnus. “What do you think?”

His nails dug into the tablecloth. “And why would I ever consider aiding you in training additional human pets?” Magnus snapped. His entire chair lurched alongside him, dragging forward and colliding his lower abdomen against the table. Magnus barely noticed, too fixated on Charles’ calm, unmoving demeanor. The smug bastard. Magnus threw another fist at the table, sending his cappuccino to teeter near the end, threatening to fall and shatter. “Really Charles, you know how jealous I can get. Me, sharing another man with you? And a woman? Ha!”

He had done an excellent job refraining from bringing up their old flame, a mere pile of ashy white cinders long since carried off by the cruel, cold winds of fate. Charles had no problem hinting at it, calling forth old memories in a futile attempt to sway Magnus towards his favor, but until now Magnus’ pride had forbidden him to going so low as to attack Charles with stories of walks across the park, going to concerts to sight out potential competition and talent, or nights spent smoking and dreaming aloud.

Not anymore. Magnus undid the harness keeping his legs in place. He pressed his left arm on top of the table, elbow held firm under his weight. With this right, he dragged himself up, using the table for support as he tried to create some height over Charles.

“Let me guess? They’re exes of yours as well?” Magnus heaved a little as he lifted himself, lame legs adrift in a senseless void. Charles’ eyes finally gave to emotion, widening as Magnus carried himself using rage alone. “They piss you off, too? Didn’t like your prudish attitude? Your compulsive behavior? Tell me, Allied Mastercomputer, other than the fact that you own me body and soul, why the hell should I help you, huh?”

The words spat out, flicking and landing across Charles’ spectacles. He flinched, head and neck reacting to the meager onslaught, then returned to their usual placements. Magnus watched, arms shaking under his weight, while Charles picked up his napkin and removed his glasses to clean the lens. As he did, Magnus’ right elbow locked, and he slipped back. Though he couldn’t feel it, he knew his legs tripped over themselves, and were it not for a klokateers hastily grabbing him by the arms and guiding him back to his chair, Magnus knew he’d have likely fallen to the floor and be made a fool in front of Charles.

He wasn’t sure if this was any better.

No. He was still the fool in this scenario.

“I’ll grant you your legs back.”

Magnus slumped, eyes blank at the promise.

Charles lifted his glasses up the light, nose wrinkling slightly at the smudges that remained, and nothing more. “What’s more, I’ll grant you some privileges, allow you to traverse the hidden pathways on your own.”

Cruel words hardly had any meaning, anymore. And what was the point of trying to give the illusion of height, when both very well knew Magnus couldn’t so much as stand without the use of a wall, pole or beam? Was it even standing, or just support? Was it even support if he constantly leaned, dragged down by his broken body’s weight, bodily dysphoria that mapped out an incomplete form?

“What do you say, Magnus?” Charles asked calmly. There wasn’t the smallest hint that he was angry. Quite the contrary, he appeared as hopeful as ever, like he had been when asking Magnus out on their very first date. That Charles had also been calm, smile favoring his chances, the starlight above casting a light that brought out the rosiness of his cheeks, the pink of his smile when affirmed the upcoming date.

Magnus blinked. The red hue of the room really did bring out the sharp contours of his high cheekbones, the shallow hood of his eyelids.

Magnus shook his head, and when he dropped down to witness the awkward positioning of his legs, felt Charles’ hand return to him.

There it goes, again. “Would you be willing to try?”

Magnus glanced at the thick files, no doubt filled with all the information he needed to manipulate and convince these unknown factors in his obstructively miniscule world to follow his every word. He’d done it before, had ticked greater men with less information to work with.

And to walk again…?

Magnus returned to facing the left, at the overcast monitor now displaying just the man sitting on a couch, legs and arms spread as he stared peevishly at the swaying camera observing him. The goth girl was gone. After an inhale from what looked like a cigarette, possibly a vape pen, the man waved at the security camera, and Magnus tore away, ashamed for even considering putting another person through a similar hell as his.

Charles was waiting for him at the table. “Well?”

He swallowed a lump. “What’s for dessert?”

Unmoving, Charles responded: “One of your favorites.”

The circular dome lifted, revealing a small, thin slice of dark chocolate cake, interior thick and layered with a darkening shade of increasing bitter chocolate. Surrounding it were several, plump little raspberries, and just as Magnus was handed a new spoon, a klokateer poured a bright, vibrant pink syrup over the slice. Like dinner, few words were shared between the two. His appetite long gone, Magnus struggled to make due and distracted himself with small bites that tasted less sweet each time his eyes caught the man in the monitor switching between the various forms of entertainment, and looking up to ponder over the unknown taking delight in his situation.

Magnus licked his lips, tasting the tart syrup spread across his upper, and wasn’t surprised when he saw Charles watching him, eyes soft and overflowing with nostalgia. Remembering the date on the calendar, Magnus dared and tested the dark waters.

He picked up a raspberry. “Happy anniversary, Charles.”

Lowering his cappuccino, Charles replied with a hum. “Happy anniversary, Magnus.”

#butterknife #magnus hammersmith #charles foster offdensen #melmord fjordslorn #trindle #getting-sloppy #thank you #this world is getting big #what will magnus do next

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eyeslikefoxglove · 4 years ago

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Episode 20 - ChenQing Syndrome & Tangents everywhere

Hello cupcakes, and welcome to episode 20. How’s everyone doing? I hope y’all are as safe and can be. I’m pretty sure I need to sleep for at least 24h because I am exhausted so forgive me if I’m suuuuuper low energy.

On another news I am officially mosquito bait. Yay.

I don’t know if I said so in the previous commentary but I Do Not Vibe with eyeballs so yeah.

Speaking of eyeballs, here is what happened the last time my mum and me consumed a medical drama in public. We decided to go to the cinema to watch The Physician, and in the intro credits there is a tray with a pair of eyeballs by a scalpel and my mum, who’s a GP goes (without lowering her voice of course):

“Those are not human eyeballs, too big, they’re probably cow’s”

I swear the whole row just turned around to give us A Look and I haven’t felt more like a serial killer since I started giggling (again in the cinema) watching Death Proof. So there you have it, I lose my shit when tv doctors do bad medicine and she makes ominous comments that make me want to explain to everyone that no, we don’t dismember people for fun.

Listen, necromancy is whatever, but “Imperio-Ing” people into harming themselves and making them hallucinate by playing the flute is what would freak me the fuck out about WWX ngl. I mean, I know he’s a good egg, but he’s Havana Syndrome-ing this bitch and that gives me chills.

Oh I love this shot of one WWX’s eyes cast in light. Cinematography on point as always.

Ok ok ok I am going to go on a terrible tangent in here. I know that in the book shit was even worse, with the cannibalism and JiaoJiao shoving a whole chair leg down her throat but there’s something that’s always caught my attention. If I’m not mistaken she bit off WC’s dick. Now call it a coincidence that WWX took advantage of, but, because I’m The Worst ™️ it made me think. If I’ve learnt something about Criminal Minds is that you don’t go after someone’s bits unless:

a) you’re a sexual sadist and can’t get off any other way (which WWX is not nor is he killing for sexual gratification)

b) those bits have gone near you when you didn’t want them to and it is revenge.

I mean, same way I didn’t want to make you wonder what WWX ate trapped in a mass grave for three months I don’t want to make you think about this but I need to get if off my chest.

Oh hey, now that I think about it the cannibalism could also be personal because again, they yeeted him into a palace full of corpses where “nothing grows”. God I hate my own brain sometimes.

Did these two just walk up to the front door of the Supervisory Office? I mean, the guards are all dead so it is fine, but that’s one shit strategy.

... that’s one ineffective way of tying a hangman’s noose.

JC IS BEING SOFT WITH WQ OMG!

YOU ARE BREAKING MY HEART. STOP. (Watch me go read ChengQing fics after this is done)

JC: is there anyone more wicked that the Wen Clan?

Me: *takes a deep breath* how much time do you have?

Gotta give it to WWX, the boy knows how to set the mood.

Yup yup I’m cackling.

Go my creepy necromancer son!

(Once again, I cheer when someone gets shanked)

(Once again, assume I’m screaming about the cinematography)

Bless LWJ’s brain cell, I remember when I first watched this being super worried about these two also getting ChenQing Syndrome.

So is the Red Woman an actual entity or is she an anthropomorphization of what he’s doing to them? Am I assigning too much Poe to this scene?

JC and LWJ straight up jumped through the ceiling to save WWX I love them. (But think, if they’ve been slightly slower and WZL had realised there wasn’t a core to melt, oh the delicious delicious canon divergences we could have)

Now that’s an effective noose.

THAT HUG WAS TOO SHORT! AND WWX WAS GOING TO RECIPROCATE BUT JC STOPED NOOOOOO. (Again JC looks like he gives the best hugs)

Misdirecting WWX is misdirecting.

Aaaaaand you can see the PTSD start to rear its ugly heard the second they want to know where he was the last three months.

WWX: *starts spinning bullshit*

JC: *relaxes his frown and eyerolls*

Aw bb he was really worried. I mean, it is still misdirection but I can see how JC inexperienced as he is with trauma (and dealing with his own) could interpret that as his baby brother just being himself.

Aw they’re falling back into being their soft yet prickly selves I die.

Nope LWJ! I know that you’re worried and shit but the last thing you want to do to someone with WWX’s trauma is trigger their fight or flight response by asking questions and making them sound like accusations.

(Also, interlude to say, WWX seems super reluctant to admit he fucked with the talismans, which fair enough, I’m thinking his trauma conga line is probably making him think he’ll get in trouble if he admits it or they’ll start distrusting him. But really looks like simple curiosity to me)

I’m just gonna scream incoherently at my screen because they are doing it fucking wrong.

Me with other fandoms: KISS GODDAMNIT

Me with this one: COMMUNICATE

DRAG HIM (ok GusuLan) WWX. I know LWJ only wants to make sure WWX is safe and healthy and loved but listen, he doesn’t have the full picture, he is still somewhat naive about you know, the amount his idols can disappoint him. Yes, it is exacerbated by WWX raising his hackles and his overall paranoia but; GusuLan is where the Sect Leader and the second in command (I know Netflix calls LQR “grandmaster” but I also know the translation is incorrect) decided that lashing their own family was an appropriate corrective. I’m not even going to go into the genocide victims or the reasons for the punishment but yeah, lashing. It hasn’t happened yet, but the potential is there, and as much of a self-sacrificing idiot as WWX is he must have some survival instincts if he lived in the streets for years, I’m not saying they don’t get negated when someone he loves is in danger, but you know, they have to be there. I think his brain has been *Kill Bill sirens* about GusuLan for a long time and now the guy who lives and breathes by their rules wants him to go back? Yeah I absolutely think it is valid that he thought the “help” he was gonna get would be horrifying punishment to “put him in the right path”. Do I see a fuck ton of parallels btw GusuLan and abusive Bible-thumping religious fanatical groups? Ok yeah, my b probably, but I Can’t Unsee.

And again, I know LWJ just wants to keep him safe and I know he’s an awkward potato but this one is on him. WWX is in no emotional place to play “guess WangJi” and it might make his soul shrivel up and die inside but a Long Conversation should be had.

Ok, allow me to go on another fucking tangent, there aren’t enough already. I’ve seen posts saying that western people misinterpret LWJ’s short and blunt speech (is short speech something you say in English?) as him being awkward/clamming up/not liking to talk when it actually is considered a very elegant thing to be able to get your point across with as few words as possible, because our culture values eloquence. First of all, I’ve seen that point made with the English language, and I’m Spanish, I don’t know if it affects my point of view but we also have the same idea of getting to the point ASAP here, it isn’t like the height of elegance but it is very common. That’s not my reasoning to say LWJ is an introverted/awkward potato, although it influences it. Because I’ve seen the show a few times, and because YiBo is the patron saint of micro-expressions, I’ve caught several instances in which, after pleasantries are done, a stranger tries to talk to LWJ and he get the tiniest “oh shit people want to have a conversation someone save me” look on his face. The most notable one is when YunmengJiang is trying to get into Cloud Recesses.

Just because someone can be a good conversationalist doesn’t mean they actually like to talk to people or be around them.

Bless JC to the rescue.

Btw regardless of me going off about LWJ’s lack of communication it doesn’t mean I’m not side eyeing WWX for unleashing on people who are not at fault for his trauma.

LET MY YUNMENG SIBS BE HAPPY GODDAMNIT

So that’s all for this episode. I’m so sorry for my tangents, I can’t contain myself. Thanks for reading!

#the untamed #cql #mdzs #mdzs live action #foxglove watches cql #foxglove watches the untamed #lan wangji #wei wuxian #wangxian #jiang cheng #yunmeng shuangjie #yunmeng bros #commentary

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fanficshiddles · 5 years ago

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Too late, One shot

Thank you for the prompt! I hope you like it. I think this would have been more suited to a multi chapter fic instead of just a one shot, but hopefully I’ve managed it ok!

bitchwhytho said:

Hey. Absolutely love your work! Can you do a one shot where Loki kidnappes the reader ( or a OFC) and the Avengers are trying to get her back. Then at the end she actually falls in love with him and defends him. 🙈🙈🙈

I rolled over onto my side and sighed. I’d lost track of how many days it had been since Loki had kidnapped me. It must have been at least a month. Though it felt like longer.

Sitting up on the bed, I looked around the room I was being kept in. You wouldn’t know I was a prisoner, because the room was like any normal kind of room in a house. It was cosy, with fur rugs, nice furniture and a comfortable bed.

I was fed well, allowed to watch TV and provided with any book I wanted. It was kind of hard to feel like I was a victim, especially when I spoke to my kidnapper.

Loki kidnapped me after returning to Earth. Thor had taken him back to Asgard after he tried to destroy New York. But somehow, Loki escaped and came back. He had come into the Avengers compound, cocky and confident. But when he tried to speak to the team, they had all simply open fired upon him.

Until he grabbed me. Who was stupidly in the wrong place at the wrong time. He whisked me away, to god knows where this was. He’d blindfolded me, not allowing me to see where he was taking me. As far as I knew, I was still on Earth. But honestly, I wouldn’t entirely count on it.

But surprisingly, Loki had treated me with kindness. Of course, I was scared at first. But he promised he wasn’t going to harm me, he just needed time and a reason to get The Avengers to listen to him… Being Bruce’s niece, Loki was certainly going to get their full attention.

I was pulled from my thoughts when Loki entered through the door that was always locked with his Seidr. He smiled when he saw I was awake, and he carried the tray of food over to the table. I went over and sat down with him, he had started joining me for meals of late.

‘Did you sleep well?’ He asked, his voice going right through me as it always did.

Truth be told, at first I had been terrified of him. I spent the first few days curled up in the corner of the room, absolutely petrified that he was going to kill me. But he had treated me like a scared, wild animal. Keeping his distance, brining me food and books then leaving. Over time, he started eating in the room and talking to me. Even if I never responded at first.

But now, I wasn’t sure if it was Stockholm Syndrome or not, but I was in love with my kidnapper. He was super intelligent, handsome, strong, funny… What could you not love about that in a man? Well, God.

And the last week, he had really opened up to me. Telling me about himself, his past. I felt for him, really felt for him. The pain and torture Thanos had put him through, about what happened back on Asgard before he fell into the abyss.

I actually cried for him that night after he’d told me. And I felt bad that The Avengers wouldn’t listen to him when he came back, instead just attacked him.

He was yet to tell me why he had returned to Earth though.

‘I did sleep well, thank you.’ I nodded and tucked into the food he’d brought, I was pretty hungry.

‘Do you need anymore books? Anything at all?’

‘Nope, I’m all good. Thank you.’ I smiled brightly at him.

While I was eating, I noticed he had barely touched his food. I looked up at him to find he was looking at me intently, his hands clasped together on front of him, resting his chin upon them.

‘Do I have something on my face?’ I asked quickly, wiping my mouth with the napkin.

He grinned. ‘Not at all. I was just looking at you.’

I felt my cheeks heat up, I coughed and looked down, to avoid his gaze. But he reached out and gently took hold of my chin, tilting my head back up so I had to meet his eyes again.

He had just opened his mouth to say something, when there was an explosion from outside somewhere. Loki stood up quickly and his full armour, helmet and cape included, materialised onto him in a shimmer of green.

I felt my stomach churn nervously. What was going on?

‘Stay here.’ Loki said firmly. But before he’d even taken a few steps towards the door, it burst open and Bruce, Steve, Natasha and Tony came rushing in.

I knew they were just going to attack Loki straight away… I wasn’t entirely sure what came over me, but I got up and swiftly moved on front of him, backing up till I was right on front of him.

‘Leave him alone!’ I called to the team.

They all stopped dead and looked at me with confusion.

‘What are you doing? He kidnapped you! I’ve been worried sick.’ Bruce said, close to turning into Hulk. I could see the green rising up his neck through his veins, but he was fighting back to keep calm.

‘He… he did, but he hasn’t harmed me!’ I said quickly.

‘You’re both coming back with us.’ Tony said, stepping closer, but I backed up further into Loki and he wrapped his arm around me, holding me tight.

‘No… You’ll just lock him up again. I won’t let that happen.’ I hissed at them.

They all shared a look with one another. I knew what they were thinking.

‘He hasn’t brainwashed me.’ I said, earning looks of worry and anger at the same time.

‘This is madness. He’s evil, he almost destroyed New York and tried to take over the world! You know that’s what he’s going to try and do again.’ Natasha tried.

‘No. You’re wrong, you’re all wrong. I’m not moving away from him.’ I said firmly, resting my hand over his that was clamped around my stomach.

‘They aren’t going to make this easy, darling. Why don’t we leave before this escalates?’ He whispered to me, I could feel his breath against my neck.

The others heard him and shifted anxiously.

‘Please… Don’t do this.’ Bruce begged, desperate.

They knew that neither of them could attack Loki without hurting me in the process. And they knew if they started to approach, that Loki would whisk us away… Which I was starting to wish he would just do anyway.

‘Will you promise not to hurt him, to not lock him up?’ I asked, determined.

‘We can’t promise that. You know we can’t.’ Steve said.

I took a deep breath and looked over my shoulder at Loki. ‘Take us away.’ I said quickly.

Loki didn’t wait another second, using his Seidr he got us out of there. Just in time as I heard Bruce shouting my name again, trying to run forward to grab me.

But they were too late.

#too late #one shot #fan fiction #tom hiddleston #loki #prompt

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arcticdementor · 5 years ago

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As a semi-retired business writer who taught in Detroit 35 years ago, I returned to the classroom because a local high school was unable to replace a Latin teacher who had resigned. I hold an advanced degree in medieval studies and renewed my certification to teach Latin, history, and social studies. Once in class, I witnessed firsthand the politicized atmosphere of today’s factory-style government-monopoly schools.

…

Grosse Pointe South High School is architecturally interesting, sits in a higher-income community, and is considered a good school by locals.

…

After an interview and teaching a few “test” classes to first- and second-year students, I was hired. Within a few days, however, it was clear that many students did not understand English grammar, much less Latin fundamentals. In response, I taught remedial grammar and outlined how students could pass my course with a “C” or “D.” There were some excellent students, but test scores were not distributed in a bell-shaped curve. It was an “inverted” bell, or bimodal distribution – with scores clumped at the two extremes.

Poor preparation, however, was only the tip of the iceberg. Students did not bring books to class, relentlessly complained about homework, and expected high grades regardless of proficiency. And when I asked questions, I uncovered some alarming facts

…

The illusion of competence also explains why – despite falling student enrollment, which should reduce costs – Grosse Pointe and similar school districts succeed in raising school taxes. Instead of being outraged at paying dearly for abysmal academic results, those who favor school taxes double-down on their support! It’s a combination of psychological denial and fiscal Stockholm syndrome. In denial, “the faithful” desperately cling to the notion that their elite high-tax district is exceptional despite the data. They cannot admit they have been duped. And since they cannot escape the fiscal dragnet of this tax-fed monopoly, in a classic display of Stockholm syndrome, they adopt the stance of their captors and cheer all the louder! But to an outsider, they are playing the part of the fawning mob in Hans Christian Anderson’s fable, The Emperor’s New Clothes: they pretend that the emperor is wearing splendid garments despite his nakedness.

Today’s students are never free of the school district’s watchful eye, which seems to take its cues from the CIA and TSA. But with so many parents accepting after-school surveillance (and paying for it), children never learn the sense of outrage that healthy individuals feel in the presence of Peeping Toms. Instead, they learn to love Big Brother.

…

During a presentation about Gutenberg’s moveable-type printing press, a student became upset upon learning that literacy skyrocketed as a result of this invention – not because of public schools. His mother is a teacher.

…

Ignorance about slavery prevailed. Many believed it was isolated to the United States instead of practiced worldwide for ages. They were more surprised – even resistant – to discover that the word slave is etymologically linked to the word Slav and white slavery. Moreover, they somehow “learned” that Westerners were the most enthusiastic practitioners of slavery instead of being among the first to abandon it.

…

Group identity and outrage culture dominate public schools. Children learn to pose as victims despite enjoying a standard of living unmatched in human history and by 95% of the world’s current population. Instead of learning to function as unique beings with free choice and that the smallest minority is an individual facing a mob, they are swapping a legacy of individual rights for group identities that – unlike individuals – don’t bleed and are manipulated by special interests to undercut genuine rights. If you wonder why students at schools like the University of Michigan cannot tolerate free speech and need trigger warnings and safe spaces, look no further than public schools. They are a political Trojan horse – a “free” government “gift” with plenty of strings attached.

#lawrence m ludlow #american thinker #public schooling

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blumearts · 7 years ago

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pallette 79

(I’ve started a little “series” thing. I’ve got ideas for all of the Potter-Malfoy kids and I’ll be releasing drawings and headcanons of them. I hope you enjoy!! I’d advise that you go look at the other kid’s stuff to avoid confusion)

The next of the Potter-Malfoy kids I’d like to introduce you to is Eltanin

It was May of 2006, and Eudora was about 4-5 months along with Alsafi when Harry opened the front door to find a baby snoozing on his doorstep.

The baby looked newly born, with tufts of hair on his head, two patches of which, Harry noticed, were bright white.

With the shock of it all, Harry dropped a quite heavy bag he had been planning to bring with him to work

It made a loud thunk right next to the baby + harry just winced expecting to hear shrieks of crying

but the baby was silent

Harry ofc immediately hurried him inside to make sure he was warm and alive with no obvious problems.

and that’s when the baby began to wail

It’s crying echoed through the house, loud enough to wake up the whole house. (8 y/o Teddy, 4 y/o twins, 2 y/o Cassiopeia and of course, nearly 26 y/o Draco)

Harry wasn’t able to quiet the baby + was v scared that perhaps the baby was in pain or had some sort of medical issue.

So, Draco stumbles down stairs + before he sees the baby he’s yawning and asking why Cassiopeia is shrieking that loudly

… and then he freezes. that baby is not Cassiopeia. He’s much smaller, and much darker.

he’s only frozen for a grand total of 2 seconds before he starts to freak out

“whO’S BABY IS THAT?! WHY DO YOU HAVE A BABY ?! OH GOD. HARRY DID YOU STEAL A BABY?!”

+ for just a hot, terrifying second, Draco looks around expecting to find Eudora. But no, this wasn’t their baby, Alsafi. It was too big to be so premature.

Harry , still trying to rock the baby attempts to calmly explain that no, he did not steal a baby.

In the wee hours of this morning, Draco + Harry are running around trying to figure out what to do.

They finally get the baby to quiet down in Draco’s arms, while Harry sits across from him.

Draco’s looking down at the boy and with a jolt, sees that his eyes are open. and he just kind of… gaps down at him.

“…harry… his eyes… one’s- one’s bright blue.” He just whispers distractedly and bit concerned.

He generally wouldn’t be concerned about Heterochromia, but the fact that this boy did not seem to be able to genetically have any shade of blue eyes worried him

perhaps he had been cursed and left to them?

Harry comes over too and stares down at the infant. Something is itching at the back of brain

“We have to take him to St. Mungo’s don’t we?”

So they send a fire message to Molly to come watch the kids while before flooing over to St. Mungos.

Mediwitches take the boy and inspect him, all while Draco and Harry wait in another room, anxious.

They’re eventually told that the boy is a newborn and looks to have “Moderate Sedendum Syndrome” which the muggles call “Type II Waardenburg Syndrome.”

The boy is permanently deaf and has pigmentation issues. The only major concern is that they need to watch him for Kidney and Pulmonary Artery Abnormalities, but he should be fine.

The mediwitch also shows them that a boy had been written on on his stomach, leaving a message that his parents did not want him because of his condition (in which, they thought it a curse) and that they left it with Draco and Harry because they’re “collecting kids anyway? What’s one more?”

This message later leaves Hermione to make the note that the baby’s parents are probably purebloods, as they didn’t think it could be a mundane defect

Harry gently scrubs it off with his own hands, feeling a bit angry and protective over the boy already

Then starts the long and complicated meetings with the Social work department of the Ministry. + the long conversations over whether or not they should keep the boy, especially with a son already on the way.

They end up deciding to send him to the “international foster home” I mentioned before bc two newborn babies to take care of in the span of 5 months didn’t seem like something they could realistically handle with all their children.

but that night neither of them can sleep, and in their guts it just feels right to take the boy in. because over all the time trying to figure out what to do with him, they had both been thinking about things like names, and what his room would look like and whether Anita would share with him or not. What house he would be in. What kind of magic he would do.

So they take him (bc shit, their first children were twins, they could do this) and name him Eltanin (Lucius). and get him fitted for hearing aids (cute little ones with nifflers on them)

They begin to teach the other kids sign language immediately, learning themselves constantly, so that by the time Eltanin is 6 months old, they can start working with him on it.

they also try to anticipate his future life, Hogwarts and beyond that.

they meet with lots of people. deaf wizards and muggles as well as parents of deaf wizards and muggles. speech therapists. doctors. specialists. anyone who can give them a full view. (one of these people happen to be Theodore Nott, who had recently had a son who was born with profound hearing loss)

They had a few main questions: Should they encourage him to learn to speak and sign at the same time? Can he even learn to speak with profound hearing loss? Should he get a cochlear implant or not? Should he not go to Hogwarts and instead go to a school for the deaf, where he could feel more culturally intact?

In short, it all boils down to, how much will his deafness affect his life?

They decide to go ahead with a witch speech therapist, specifically trained to deal with children with profound hearing loss.

They want him to learn to speak and sign, but were advised not to invest in a cochlear implant, because Eltanin may not want it in the future. He could go to Hogwarts, but should probably have regular contact with other deaf wizards. Which means lots of playdates with Hyacinthus Nott.

he’s not a crier, or a complainer, or a tantrum thrower.

He’ll cry if he needs something and stops when he gets it. If he falls, he asks for a bandaid and moves on. If he’s upset he hides it.

As Eltanin gets older this concerns Harry greatly. He begins to tell Eltanin when he’s 5 that he can come to Harry if he’s upset. That he won’t be mad or judge him if that’s what he’s worried about. That it’s okay to be upset, it’s okay to show that sometimes, even if they aren’t your shining and most proud moments.

But Eltanin is happy kid. He’s very bubbly and one that jokes around a lot

but he’s also sassy. Like.. too sassy for his own good. He’s a back talker and frequent sarcasm user. (He signs sarcastically, I mean. no one even knows how he manages it)

He insists on continuing the whole “niffler hearing aids” thing for his entire life bc this boy is obsessed with extremely random things

He loves nifflers, finds them fascinating. and the Goblin Rebellions? Don’t even get him started. He also likes Korean Wizard rock bands that Harry constantly dad jokes him about

Though he and Alsafi are only 7 months apart, they end up going into separate years bc of the August cut off and Eltanin never lets him forget it. “I am your older brother, therefore my clear authority over you dictates that…”

He gets to Hogwarts and the hat takes a very long time to decide. Is he a Gryffindor or is he Ravenclaw or …”Slytherin!”

Eltanin was well liked by his housemates, who immediately learned sign language for him. Even the Slytherins who didn’t know Eltanin learned to sign

It eventually got to the point of being a tradition in the Slytherin house, which was upheld for many decades past Eltanin being there.

(Around 12 Eltanin’s hair turned completely white, which his housemates thought was super cool.)

Everything seemed amazing for Eltanin and the other kids but, at this point people started to talk.

Those who went through the war and knew what Draco Malfoy did. Those who were so anti-dark wizard that they couldn’t believe- didn’t believe - that Harry Potter, savior of the wizarding world, could really marry Draco Malfoy of his own free will, in his right mind. and on the other hand, why would Draco Malfoy want to marry and have kids with Harry Potter anyway? Not to mention, they were turning out mostly Slytherin children…

It was still only whispers and rumors and conspiracy, still things whispered behind hands and laughed at by most. The kids were teased sometimes, something Teddy always put a stop to.

.. until about a year later when Rita Skeeter released a 962 page book. “Draco Malfoy’s Dark Secret”

It outlined (with plenty of extremely convincing evidence) how Draco is continually slipping Harry love potions in order to trap him, and is now taking in children to brainwash and turn into soldiers, “or worse, experiment on”. It painted Harry as a tragic victim and their kids as possibly dangerous.

To the general public this accusation seemed extremely far fetched and completely silly. Some saying it “worthy of the Lovegoods” until they read it.

When Draco and Harry got a copy in their hands, they were sure that if they hadn’t been them, they would have a hard time not believing this theory, with all the evidence they’d no idea how Rita acquired.

Ron even half believed it. Harry caught him checking a mug of coffee Draco had made for him, and tried to ask Harry if he was sure of what was going on.

Harry had just snatched the drink away and gulped it down, looking Ron straight in the eye and refusing to speak to him for days.

It was the kids who took the brunt of it really. Teddy had graduated and the Slytherins were the only ones who took up for them.

It got so bad that Sirius ended up taking refuge, sleeping in turns in her sibling’s beds and studying between breaks in the Slytherin common room.

It began to be a normal sight to see red and gold Sirius sitting in their common room.

Rita’s book was even banned in Hogwarts in an attempt to help the kids.

Harry and Draco had to keep holed up inside, with Ginny bringing the necessities.

It was interestingly Neville who came to the aid of Harry. With the help of Luna and Hannah, he put together a book with interviews, pictures and stories from anyone who knew Harry and Draco well.

Rolf, Hermione, Ron, Dean, Seamus, Pavarti and Padma, all the Weasleys, Dennis Creevey, Eltanin’s speech therapist, Narcissa and Lucius, Andromeda, Hagrid, Professors Mcgonagall, Sprout, Slughorn and Flitwick, Eleanora, various Mediwitches and healers. Mrs Figg, Cho Chang, Viktor Krum, Gabrielle Delacor, and even Blaise, Pansy, Theodore and their spouses showed up to help.

The book was exactly 963 pages and was simply labeled “the Truth About the Potter-Malfoy Family”

It didn’t exactly cause the Potter-Malfoys to be considered a group angels, but it did finally quiet the craziness Rita had started.

Eltanin had a relatively normal Hogwarts-career after that fiasco.

He’s the only of the kids that didn’t play quidditch, but you bet your ass he was out there with their names on hid forehead whenever they played.

Eltanin is a fantastic Potioneer

He ended up going by “Malfoy”

+ after being told about their parents as students, he and Alsafi jokingly sneered “Potter” “Malfoy” at each other whenever they passed

8/13/2017

#sorry if this was shit guys ; I finished it at 5 am #Draco Malfoy #drarry #drarry squad #Harry Potter #the potter-malfoy kids

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yukithesnowman314 · 6 years ago

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Editor’s Note: These are the mere free-flowing, raw, and unedited thoughts of mines on the first three or four episodes of the Fall 2018 anime “Rascal Does Not Dream of Bunny Girl Senpai” and my first impressions on it. There is no structure nor order on how I talk about this show.

A boy wakes up next to a girl around his age sleeping peacefully in his bed. He looks at her as she awakens and treats her with a “good morning” in which she returns the greeting back. As they slowly wake up and indulge in playful teasing and banter of their lack of sleep I am taken by surprise at the fact that the first episode has opened with our lead male and female characters in bed: suggesting to the viewers that they are in a relationship.

In addition, the male lead looks and acts like an alpha; a rarity in anime today as most male teenage leads are doormat simps (just like 90% of male anime fans globally). Finally! A young male anime hero with balls! This is great! Too great. Too great to be true.

No, really, it was. I accidentally downloaded the third episode, not the first.

Because I decided to get stoned out of my mind before watching this anime, I unwitty download episode 3; thinking it was episode 1. Sure, I spoiled myself by seeing Mai and Sakuta (our leading characters) together in bed. However, it was a spoiler I welcomed: as I assumed they got together by the end of episode 2.

I went back to KissAnime to download episodes 1 and 2. Episode 1 starts to play and its opening shot was the same shot from episode 3, except with different dialogue. Mai asks Sakuta if he is going to kiss her. Even if Sakuta was merely imagining things, it ’s written in stone that he got her in his bed as early as episode 2.

I shouldn’t be surprised at how bold of a move that was. After all, Rascal Does not Dream of Bunny Girl Senpai was written by light novelist Haijime Kamoshida (notable for his works The Pet Girl of Sakurasou, and the beautifully written original coming-of-age high school drama anime Just Because! from Fall 2017).

Hajime Kamoshida

While I’ve never read The Pet Girl of Sakurasou, I’m a huge fan of Just Because! due to Kamoshida’s approach towards clichéd high school anime archetypes. Example: Rather than to write main character Eita as a new mysterious transfer student who enters a new school during the middle of his first year (like almost every other high school anime), Eita is a senior who transfers back to his hometown’s school district during the second semester (Eita moved away from his hometown during middle school). Eita’s “new” classmates at his “new” school district are actually a few of his friends from childhood. Komoshida effetely kills the “mysterious transfer student” idea off and replaces it with a character that’s already established and known by his peers in his city.

Komoshida is a clever writer in that sense, and Bunny Girl Senpai is no exception.

Before discovering that Kamoshida wrote Bunny Girl Senpai, I had no intention of watching it. Even hearing the show’s name alone made me (foolishly) believe that it was going to be, yet another, fanservicery, run-of-the-mill, below-average light novel anime adaption with a disposable trash waifu. A trash waifu wearing a skimpy bunny girl outfit that Cleverworks will produce figurines of her in said outfit for the fanboys of her to jerk off to and nut on.

Anything to pander to lonely otakus to get that second season.

These untrue, biased, stupid assumptions were slaughtered once I ran across Mother’s Basement video analysis on the show, explain that Kamoshida wrote the original novel, and discussing the themes of the show (such as bullying, facing rejection, social norms, etc.) So I figure I would give this show a watch.

Glad I did.

The first episode truly proved my earlier assumptions wrong. I was an idiot to think that this show was going to be garbage! Why did I allow myself to judge a book by its cover? In my defense, this current era of light novel anime adaptions is stale and bland. This is not the mid-2000s anymore when we had hard-hitting, thought-provoking, and creative light novel anime adaption coming out left and right.

Remember when the iconic juggernaut The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya came along and kick everyone’s asses in 2006? That was a light novel anime adaption that not only define light novels and light novel anime – but it was the start of a generation of otaku culture. The success and global cultural impact of Haruhi Suzumiya laid the groundwork for other light novels to be adaptive into TV anime.

I miss those days.

(Of course, that Haruhi laying the groundwork for light novel anime statement is up to debate)

Currently, light novel anime adaptions are a mess. The Goblin Slayer anime spat in the face of its light novel ancestor with its ugly CGI, lack of character development that was found in the original, removing important story plots from the light novel, and a controversial brutal violent scene that was not necessary for a first episode.

Every year, we’re “treated” to another boring, uninspiring isekai (another world) light novel adaption that just has a different gimmick that doesn’t change anything or do anything groundbreaking.

Sword Art Online needs to be taken to the backyard and get shot in the back of its head so it can be taken out of its misery already like the dying, useless dog it is.

10/10 Photoshop skills. I have a Ph.D. in Graphic Design from the highly educated university St. Louis Community College Forest Park

Oh, how the era of the great light novel anime adaption has ended …or so I thought. Bunny Girl Senpai’s first episode changed my mind.

Off the jump, we see the heroine parading herself around in a public library in nothing but a skimpy bunny girl outfit. Such a daring, lewd, and perverted act performed by any woman would certainly create attention for her.

But for Mai, – a well-known and beloved actress – there’s no way anybody could ignore her. Questions and comments such as “is she doing this for clout?”, “is this for a movie?”, “is that actress secretly an exhibitionist?”, and “she has fallen so low…” are gonna be said and asked. Everyone is glued to their phones. Everyone is addicted to social media. Indisputably, people seeking likes, views, and money for viral moments are going to document such an event on their smartphones.

youtube

Alas, she goes unnoticed. No. For real. They don’t notice her. She even bends herself forward towards a salaryman in a way that her breasts are in his face. But since the salaryman doesn’t have the time or the love for these hos, he doesn’t give her an ounce of attention. You know, maybe they’re just playing pretend. Mai has done this so often at this library that everyone decided to act like she doesn’t exist because they don’t wanna give her any attention.

Except they’re not playing pretend. Mai doesn’t exist – both figuratively and literally. She isn’t doing this for cheap thrills; it’s a legit cry for help.

Her existence is at risk and unless people notice her, she will die.

Moments later, Sakuta uses his main character powers to spot her walking about and confronts her. Mai, in return, copies Hitagi Senjougahara’s mannerism that she got from the Monogatari playbook and threatens him; demanding that he forgets what he saw and to never associate with her. And because the Monogatari playbook is public domain, Sakuta decides to steal moves from the Koyomi Araragi section and explains to Mai that he knows about her condition (due to personal experience) and that he can help her.

The condition? Puberty Syndrome: a rumored illness that causes sensitivity and instability among youths infected by it.

Mai believes him and accepts his help; thus starting the latest installment of the Monogatari series! Kidding, of course. (That joke is getting old).

As mentioned (and me making fun of it) earlier, Bunny Girl Senpai (audaciously) borrows ideas from its influences (such as Monogatari) and other classic anime/light novel tropes, stereotypes, archetypes; using them to its advantage to add layers to each character personality. Therefore, the characters are more third dimensional compared to most others in anime that follow said archetypes and stereotypes.

Sakuta is your typical brash, blunt, and bold protagonist who doesn’t give a shit about following the rules, values, and order of society and freely operates outside of them (think Yusuke from Yuu Yuu Hakusho or Travis Touchdown of No More Heroes). Because Sakuta is an outlier, he is outcast by his peers – even to the degree that his homeboy’s girlfriend tells the man to stop being friends with him; because it would ruin his and her’s high social standing in school (granted, Sakuta tells the girlfriend to fuck off).

This could be seen as social commentary, as Japan is a nation of conformity and holds value in being non-confrontational. Standing out and being a person who enjoys confrontation in Japan will get you mocked, ridicule, and disowned: three things I’m sure Sakuta has experienced in his young life due to his mannerism, but I doubt he cares.

“To be quiet, and do as you’re told…that’s the cowardly choice.” -Gearless Joe, Megalo Box

His sister, Kaede, plays the annoying imouto, or little kid sister role. Kaede affectingly hugs her big brother often, loves getting him out of bed or get in his bed (even if he’s trying to sleep), and she is almost always at his side. She’s soft-spoken when around strangers but truly shines and becomes herself when Sakuta is around.

Pretty annoying, right?

Kyon’s Sister

Well, Kaede is a victim of (cyber) bullying at her school. She received death threats from her former friends and cruel messages from her classmates telling her that she needs to kill herself. The relentless bullying and vicious messages caused Kaede to withdraw from society to the degree that she became a shut-in. She hates social media and modern technology; as we see her freezing up out of fear when she hears Mai’s phone rings in one episode. Because of her trauma, Kaede sees Sakuta as a protector of sorts which results in her being close to him.

She finds comfort in her brother.

All she had to do was walk away from the computer and close her eyes.

Mai, as we saw in the first episode, is clear fanservice bait. Even in the anime promotional art, she’s wearing her bunny girl outfit in public. For this, I can’t blame anyone for thinking Mai does this for attention or thinking that she was designed to be trashy waifu bait. The fanservice and waifu material bits are turned on their heads once you understand the grave reasoning behind Mai’s acts (and character design).

Haruhi Senjougahara

Mai must do everything and anything within her power to court attention at all costs. Initially, the actress loved the peace and quiet that came with not being in the public’s limelight: something she had been under since childhood. Like any aspiring child actress, she was in “everlasting” bliss that people knew who she was thanks to her TV and movie roles. But, over time, the toll and stress of childhood stardom got to Mai and she wanted out of showbiz.

Her breaking point came about at the hands her manipulative manager and agent – her own mother.

During a commercial shoot for cereal (correct me if I’m wrong I don’t remember the full details), Mai’s mother and the video producer suggested that Mai should wear a revealing bikini. Mai refused: as she was in middle school at the time and was understandably disturbed by the idea. Her mom snapped on her; calling her own daughter a disappointment. It was at that point where Mai decided to retire from show business and stray away from the limelight.

She got her one true wish – at the cost of her existence.

“The limelight. The actor who steps into this brilliant light attains a heightened presence. All eyes are on him. There is room for only one actor at a time in the limelight’s narrow beam; do whatever it takes to make yourself its focus. Make your gestures so large, amusing, and scandalous that the light stays on you while the other actors are left in the shadows.” –Robert Greene, “The 48 Laws of Power”

(It’s ironic to think how Mai desperately worked hard to avoid any form of publicity and attention after her semi-retirement from the entertainment industry and yet, she was hunting it down once she realized that she could die if nobody acknowledges her. Maybe I’ll do an analysis essay on that one day.)

Watching the first episode (and parts of the second), I’m reminded of the golden era of the light (and visual) novel to anime boom. Text-based tales coming to life through animation. Stories crafted by otaku who dare to explore deep themes and issues about society, cultural norms, and life. There weren’t just mindless cartoons that otakus would simply watch and enjoy. They were shows with layers, messages, themes, and meaning.

It’s refreshing to see Bunny Girl Senpai bring such classic writing back into otaku marketed TV anime.

At the time of this writing, I am currently on episode 3. Sakuta is desperate to keep Mai’s existence alive. He has even gone as far as sacrificing his health by not sleeping (since anyone who’ve sleep after seeing Mai in her “invisible” state will have traces of her existence erased). Mai slips a sleeping pill in one of his caffeine drinks (probably deadly, but okay). She knows that this will erase her existence for him, but she doesn’t want him to put his health at risk – because of the fact she loves him. In tears, she thanks him for all he has done for her, and fades out of existence.

She’ll come back of course; thanks to Sakuta’s no-fucks-given attitude, however.

Bunny Girl Senpai has been an interesting anime to watch so far. The mystery of Puberty Syndrome keeps me wondering about how it impacts people and how it shapes society . The cast has wonderful chemistry with each other, as Mai and Sakuta have amazing banter with one another that helps keep fans interested in their relationship. Komoshida blending real-world issues such as bullying and blending in with sci-fi and supernatural elements is genius and I can’t wait to see how the writers of the show take his writing style to the next level.

I do hope this anime becomes a hit because I want to see more like it that is otaku driven and uses themes from anime to build layers for its characters. With people praising it online I sure my hopes will come to life.

…even if it does borrows from Monogatari. A lot.

-Yuki The Snowman.

P.S.

I’m actually caught up with the show and currently waiting for episode 8. I have a theory that the main narrative theme of Futaba’s arc is accepting yourself (as Futaba has to deal with the fact that the second Futaba is the personification of her repressed but true self and she needs to understand it’s a part of her personality). I’m lazy as hell so I didn’t feel like rewriting the bit about episode 3 or whatnot.

Shadow Futaba

P.P.S

The most real shit I’ve seen in anime in a while love how Sakuta speaks excellent game on standing out and being your own person:

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Rascal does not dream of a better title for an deep and thought provoking anime and light novel series. Editor’s Note: These are the mere free-flowing, raw, and unedited thoughts of mines on the first three or four episodes of the Fall 2018 anime “Rascal Does Not Dream of Bunny Girl Senpai” and my first impressions on it.

#2018 anime #anime #Anime Analysis #Aobuta #Bunny Girl Senpai #Cloverworks #青ブタ #青春ブタ野郎 #Fall 2018 anime #Hajime Kamoshida #light novel #Mai Sakurajima #manga #Rascal Does Not Dream of Bunny Girl Senpai #Sakuta Azusagawa #Seishun Buta Yarou wa Bunny Girl Senpai no Yume wo Minai #Seishun Buta Yarō

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johnclapperne · 7 years ago

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Bad Fitness: Why You Don’t See Results From Your Workouts (or Diet Plans)

33.

60.

92.

On the surface, the numbers mean nothing. They could be a lottery number, a gym locker combination, or the estimated age when all men mature. But if you look closer, these numbers are proof that fitness programs aren’t working the way they should. Or maybe more accurately, bad fitness has become the norm.

Approximately 33 percent of the population is now obese or overweight, and that number is projected to climb

More than 60 percent of people who visit gyms have trouble sticking with their plan consistently for more than three months.

Up to 92 percent of people fail at their fitness resolutions by the end of the year.

Some might find these numbers depressing. The reality is, the numbers—while disconcerting—are a sign of hope and improvement. Because while most experts continue to spend so much time stressing the search for the perfect exercise program or diet—research is finally uncovering why so many people struggle to get in shape.

And the reason is simple: an important variable is missing that significantly influences whether you see the type of results you want.

Good health and fitness books or good diet programs work because they provide information that has been proven to achieve a particular goal, whether it’s burning fat, building muscle, becoming more athletic, or just boosting overall health.

Whether a diet and training program works is not why so my people fail. Many diets work. Many types of exercise burn calories. But certain programs are effective for individuals because each person is able to crack the code and learn how to change behavior.

It’s time to flip the script on why certain people are fit and others struggle to fit into their favorite pair of jeans. It’s the secret in the fitness world that few people address because most never grasp why some people succeed on the same plan where others fail.

Beyond the calories in versus calories out equation, finding the perfect workout or number of sets or reps, the real breakdowns in body transformation don’t occur in the muscles or fat cells—they happen in your head.

Whether you realize it or not, your success is determined by your ability to adhere to a number of behavioral changes that make it easier for you to experience success on any type of program.

The two most common explanations for why fitness programs don’t work are:

1) The workout (and/or diet) was no good and full of nonsense

2) Your body sucks. Your genetics are awful. Everyone can lose weight and you can’t.

The reality is, the second reason—while valid (genetics do play a big role)—is not a reason for your lack of success. Anyone can change and transform. Weight loss and muscle gain are not restricted to the genetically blessed.

The list of why programs don’t work is missing two essential elements that make it complete:

3) You didn’t follow the program, weren’t compliant, and constantly made adjustments

4) The program was delivered in a way that gave you no option but failure.

It’s this fourth element that most people overlook and never even consider, which is why so many are frustrated because it is probably the most common reason for frustration and a lack of progress.

Unless you inherently love exercise and eating good foods, shifting to new habits takes a lot of mental energy. And if you don’t take the right approach, your brain can literally prevent you from making the changes you desperately want.

Instead of blaming yourself, you can arm yourself with some basic knowledge that will make sure you mind is strong enough to carry your body to its new and improved look.

Bad Fitness 101: Don’t Rely on Willpower…

The first rule of willpower is doing everything possible to not rely on it. Willpower is a real thing, and it can be the reason why you head to the gym and eat broccoli instead of lay on the couch and eat ice cream, but it’s also the reason so many people have trouble adapting to healthy behaviors that feel foreign.

You see, you have much less control over your behavior than you’d want to believe. That’s because stress and anxiety—emotions that are inevitable—can wreck havoc on even the strongest intent, and make it difficult for you stay focused and push yourself to stay consistent with new behaviors.

Which is why it’s important when taking on a new plan to be aware of the ways that your willpower might make it difficult for you to experience success. Instead of thinking, “I must avoid all of the candy in my pantry,” you need to throw out all the food you know you have trouble avoiding and replace it with the stuff you want to eat.

If you’ve noticed that you can’t make it to the gym consistently, hire a trainer and make a special request that they text you an hour before your session.

Willpower can be faulty, so building systems that guide behavior can ensure that when willpower breaks down failure is not the only option. The more structure and rigidity to the systems you build, the easier it is to program your behavior.

If you feel that you need to walk more, you can purposely park your car 15 minutes away from work. Sure it’s inconvenient, but it will get the job done, right?

All too often we over-rely on the belief that creating change will be easy. Instead, anticipate that it will be hard and simplify your job by making it easy for you to adhere to your new behaviors. After a while, you will change as a person, and you won’t need the systems any more.

…But Creating More Willpower Will Help (Yes, it’s possible)

The most frustrating thing about willpower is that we legitimately have limited amounts available. The area of your brain that controls your willpower is located in your prefrontal cortex. You might remember this from biology as the area directly behind your forehead.

It’s the same part of your brain that helps you with all your day-to-day tasks, everything from your short term memory (What did my wife tell me to buy at the store?), figuring out some simple tasks, and even staying focused.

The point is, the pre-fontal cortex is busy at all times. So whenever you take on a new behavior—especially one that is as big as getting in shape, exercising, and eating better—it’s like having a massive project dropped in your lap and being told everyone else in the office is too busy to help.

The result is that desired actions—if new—can be very (very) hard to execute. In fact, it’s more than your brain can handle, meaning you default to old or undesirable behaviors.

Here’s how manipulative your brain can be. In a well-known study at Stanford, two groups were given a number to remember. One group needed to remember a two-digit sequence, whereas the other needed to remember 7 digits (Both short-term memory tasks). Then the groups went for a walk. At the end of their walk, they were offered an option of snacks: Fruit or chocolate cake. (This type of dilemma might sound familiar.)

What happened? Those who had to remember the 7-digit number were two times more likely to dig into the cake instead of opt for the fruit.

Researchers refer to this as “cognitive load.” The more space you’re taking up in the prefontal cortex, the harder it is to make certain decisions. That’s why you need to train yourself and prepare accordingly so that you have enough willpower to take on new tasks.

This is one of the reasons why resolutions are such a flawed concept. If you’re trying to change 10 behaviors at the same time, it’s nearly impossible for you to succeed. Your brain won’t have it, and, as a result, you’ll be more likely to find yourself in December eating cake—and not because you’re celebrating your new body.

Instead of listing off many goals or taking on too many projects, it’s best to focus on one big effort and then break that down into habits. Researchers from Australia found that taking a step-by-step approach, such as building one habit at a time helps reduce cognitive load.

So rather than saying “I need to lose 10 pounds” it’s best to program simple behaviors that will help make this possible. This might be, “I will have an accountability team to make sure I go to the gym.” The habit is simple—building a team—rather than something more complex such as promising that you’ll exercise for 60 minutes five times per week.

The lesson: Be aware that your willpower is the most overworked employee in your brain. Make the job easier and you’ll see your habits change along with your body.

5 Ways to Boost Willpower

In order to make sure you create more willpower and don’t sabotage your efforts, here are five things you need to consider when trying to change your body, take on a new diet or fitness program, or accept a new behavior.

Create Hope

We all want to believe that we can achieve our fitness goals, but all too often “false hope syndrome” makes the process harder than it needs to be. You need to set realistic expectations of who you are, what you are capable of achieving, and want processes you need to set up to help you be successful. This goes back to building systems.

If you know that you fall victim to cravings, don’t tell yourself those days are over and that you can completely control yourself. Odds are, you’re lying to yourself and these positive intentions—while seemingly good—can be harmful. That’s because the moment you slip up you’ll not only revert back to old behaviors (not terrible when it happens once in a while—hey, we all screw up!) but more importantly it can crush your self-esteem. And once that happens, willpower becomes overrun and you fall off the wagon.

Therefore, it’s important that you start out confident, but also be realistic with what will be easy and what will be hard. Make a list. Separate it into two goals (easy and hard), and for everything that’s hard, plan certain systems that will help ensure that you’re not putting too much pressure on yourself.

Think Small (But Still Dream Big)

If you’re serious about your fitness goals, you need to determine what other areas of your life should be prioritized less. Go in open-minded and realize that making these changes will be tough; if they weren’t, you wouldn’t be in this position in the first place. So make sure you have the energy to take on the task and be prepared for the hard days. You can simplify this process by:

Creating goals that matter to you. This will make it easier to fight for them.

Setting up a plan

Creating Milestones

Trying new ways of living

All four of these elements have something in common: you’re creating new thought patterns. When brain scientists have looked at MRI’s they’ve found that our minds work off of old memories. It’s like a taking a particular route to work. After a while, it becomes you routine. But when it comes to behavior, oftentimes you simply try to tell yourself, “Don’t go that way!” That’s a recipe for failure. You need to find a new route. Don’t try to “not to do something;” that just strengthens a pre-existing behavior. Instead, create a new line of thinking, build a new neural pathway, and take that route enough times until it becomes your new habit.

Set specific Goals

This is a good lesson for anything in life: When you set goals, make them specific and tiny. You want to make it as easy as possible to succeed. We all are susceptible to a psychological concept called learned helplessness; fail enough and you come to expect failure. This is the foundation of bad fitness. And yet, all too often goals are set that increase the likelihood of failure. If you make your goals almost too easy to not fail, you’re on the right track. This builds positive reinforcement. And in no time, a series of small successes will have you feeling good and making more changes.

Set up An Accountability System

Speaking of positive feedback, having a team—whether it’s friends, family, a trainer, or workout partner—pays huge dividends for any fitness goal you’re trying to accomplish. In fact, research from the University of Chicago suggests that your likelihood of success is directly related to accountability and support. The ongoing lesson: don’t convince yourself you need to go at this alone. Build a team that can help you succeed. And the more that team is either invested in your goals—or are willing to be a part of your journey—the more likely you’ll succeed.

Create Incentives

If all else fails, bad fitness can be offset by building an incentive system that hacks your behavioral patterns and forces change. Research has shown that rewarding behaviors—especially with a monetary value—can help reinforce actions (such as going to the gym) that lead to long-term change. While it might be hard to find someone to pay you to exercise, you can invest your own money (in a trainer or gym) that might help make you less risk aversive. But if gym attendance shows you anything it’s that belonging to a gym is not reason enough to get in shape.

Your Move

“What is necessary to change a person is to change his awareness of himself.” –Abraham Maslow

Now that you’re aware of your brain’s role in the fitness plans, it’s up to you to execute. Build your own structure and systems to help improve the likelihood of success. Or find an option that considers all of those factors.

Whether it’s online coaching or any other proven tactic, you must start with awareness and then move to planning and action. Create a structure for psychological support. Doing so will change your mind, and soon after your body will follow.

Lose Fat…The Realistic Way

A weight loss plan doesn’t have to be a world of false promises and hype.

Now you can join a proven weight loss program with a personalized component of support and accountability with personalized online coaching.

Here you’ll learn how to eat, the type of exercise needed, and the actual plans to point you in the right direction.

How to Defy Genetics and Build Muscle at Any Age

Is Intermittent Fasting Right for You?

Want to Burn More Calories? Add This to Your Fat Loss Plan

The post Bad Fitness: Why You Don’t See Results From Your Workouts (or Diet Plans) appeared first on Born Fitness.

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#Bad Fitness: Why You Don’t See Results From Your Workouts (or Diet Plans)

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joshuabradleyn · 7 years ago