#he's a permanent instalment in my brain i fear

[ewwis-but-fandom]

thinking about how different nanami looks before he went back into the jujutsu business. sure, he's still wearing corporate wear now, but it's so much more expressive. a cream suit, blue shirt, patterned and brightly colored tie, and eccentric glasses. even his hair — where it was once gelled down and perfectly smooth, is now spiky and pushed back, stray hairs here and there. it's clear that he's so much more content as a jujutsushi than a corporate salaryman

[jensthwa]

mountebank chem pt. one (JYH x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

* 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤: 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐫��𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐲. The first time you met Yunho, you knew he was going to be part of the biggest tragedy of your life: the loss of your freedom, of your free will. You didn't know why back then but what you did figure out is that you and Jeong Yunho were going to, eventually and very publicly, date each other at some point. Is that reason enough to hate his guts? Well, of course! Now, when the time comes to fulfill the prophecy, how the hell are you going to pull it off? And, most importantly, what do you need to do to not fall in love with him in the process?

PAIRING: rich!yunho x rich!reader.

GENRE: enemies to friends to lovers.

WORD COUNT: 9,7k.

WARNINGS: eventual SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI) attempt !!! at comedy, crying, mentions of drinking and drug usage, mature language, petty behavior, insults, yunho and reader really hate each other i fear, pet names (princess), negative mentions of body image, panic attacks/panic disorder, negative??? (or so they think) tension. no smut on this part, it's an introduction to these two characters, their families and the chaos they bring to poor yunho's and readers life.

NOTES: hi everyone! i know i posted the hwa fic ten days ago or so, but i wanted to get started with this mini series that is PART OF THE LOVE'S AN UNCHARTED PATH / SHOW & TELL UNIVERSE. there's mentions of the last installment plot so, if you're new around here, you can always find the rest of the stories on my masterist! this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: september 14th 2024.

permanent taglist: @hotteokkay, @potatomountain, @fairylover68, @e3ellie, @alsomimi

masterlist. - part two - part three.

A trembling finger is all you can see in the still dim light of the room. 

It's quiet, very quiet. You haven't heard anything but your thoughts all night. It grosses you out, so you wait for the clock to turn to six and press the button you've been hovering on for, at least, half an hour.

Park Seonghwa is your only hope right now. 

The conversation doesn't go as planned. 

“No, I will not go to the party with you and no, I will not pretend to be your boyfriend.” 

Not even your great pitch could've turned him around to help you. Sighing, you replay the conversation in your pounding head. 

“This is very inconvenient for me but I hope you and the cool girl I saw yesterday are happy together… Even if it ruins my happiness forever!” 

Your happiness was probably ruined the day you were born. Sighing again, you turn to the window. 

It’s raining. 

You didn’t notice until you ended the call that was, if you’re being honest with yourself, your last resource. 

Brain rotting away the entire night, wine drunk and edible high, you didn’t even notice the rain accompanied you through your misery. 

The sound of the droplets hitting your studio window and the sun trying to break through the gloomy clouds adds insult to injury: You’re running out of time. 

Any time now, your mother is going to call you up to let you know you’re possibly getting promised tonight. Not engaged, but promised and presented. 

Like you’re some sort of property your parents can give away. 

Nails connecting with your glass desk, the noise syncs up with the rain pattering on your window sill and, to your tired mind, it also mimics the tic-tacking an old clock would make.

You figured, if you show up with someone on your arm tonight, they might finally leave you alone. 

And not marry you off to Jeong Yunho. 

There’s not enough hours in the day to plan a perfect escape, there’s not enough will left inside you to reach out to someone else and make everything seem genuine, organic, like you’ve known each other for years and kept it a secret all this time. 

There's not enough time to save yourself. 

Because there's this… unspoken agreement you’ve known about since you were eight. 

Your parents and Yunho’s parents are friends. Your mom went to school with his mom and your dad met his dad when they were teenagers and they all got married off respectively because it was what worked for their families at the time so, after hearing the superficial love story at the age of seven, you knew you were going to meet the same fate eventually. 

And the next year, you met Yunho. 

He was an hyperactive little kid with a lot of energy and facts about the earth you didn’t care to listen to because the second you started playing with him in his huge backyard and turned to check if your mother was watching you, you realized that was not a casual playdate. 

Smiling ear to ear, both your mother and his, it signaled to you that it has started. 

Your planned love story with Jeong Yunho had sailed smoothly in their eyes and there was nothing you could do about it. 

Naturally, you have hated him since then. But you were taught etiquette and were media trained since you turned three and could form complete sentences, so your hatred only really showed when you two were alone. 

Turns out, he didn’t really care if you liked him or not. 

He’s always been good at pretending as well. 

That chirpy personality, kindness and humbleness he exudes in front of everyone else? An act. 

And you were proud of yourself when you saw right through his bullshit when you were both eleven and left alone so he could show you around their new, bigger house. 

Gone too soon was that child who wanted to teach you about worms in his backyard and in its place there was this distant tween who’s smile disappeared as soon as your mothers were out of sight. 

“Listen, I don’t know why we’re being forced to hang out but I don’t like you.” 

Dumb kid. 

“Good, because I don't like you either but they can’t find that out.” 

He scoffed, crossing his arms and frowning at you “I’m planning on telling mommy that you… chased me around with a knife or something, so she can see how psycho you actually are and stop forcing me to be around you!”

Eyes lighting up, that was the first time you saw a possible escape from all of this “You think that would actually work?” 

Annoyed and a little freaked out, Yunho pointed at the smirk on your lips “See? That’s exactly what I mean: Psycho.”

And you both only grew hostile at each other since then. Sure, saving face in front of your parents and older siblings was necessary to not get scolded and revoked of your privileges (and you actually liked to be alone with him, only if it meant you could take a break from your mother and her judging gaze), but pretending to like Yunho proved to be more difficult than what you had imagined. 

Especially when you both outgrew the phase where you tried anything and everything under the sun to piss the other off. Not so harmless pranks were pulled and the petty behavior got you both in trouble with your oldest brothers a couple of times but, no matter how hard you tried, it never “accidentally” got to your mother. Or his, for that matter. 

So when you two stopped trying to get your point across and grew cold towards one another, that's when it got really ugly. Vile words cut through both of your egos harshly, family vacations that include his were uncomfortable and holidays were your personal hell. 

December thirty-first and January first have always felt like purgatory. Christmas was always spared because you have family living on the other side of the world who you travel to see every year but it's never truly enjoyable when you know that, in the next couple of days after that, you'll see his dumb face. 

But you have always smiled brightly at him and hugged him when he comes in with his unnecessary luggage at your home. You hold his arm and bat your eyelashes when you know your mom is watching from a distance and it all but confuses him every single time. 

Remembering the time you both were thirteen and you went through very sudden puberty makes you smile. The look on his face when your kitty heels helped show how tall you got over the summer was fantastic. 

“Look at what the cat brought in!” Scrunching your nose and squeezing his cheeks in fake affection, you noticed it took a lot for him to not swat your hands away. 

But you also remember noticing that he was blushing when you pulled away. 

“You look like a very ugly gigant,” he whispered with a smile, matter of factly and all “It doesn't really suit you.” 

He was a pain in the ass. A manageable pain in the ass, but a pain nonetheless. 

It all took a wrong turn when he caught up on your mothers plans by age fifteen. By that age, you've known for a while and the mercy you had on him, on explaining everything you believed to be true, was simply a way of keeping everything at arm's length from you. 

The second he put two and two together, your guesses had automatically turned into a possible reality you couldn't cope with. 

A reality that's about to hit you in the face and leave a bruise that doesn't really go with your polished image. 

The rain picks up and you close your eyes in hopes of coming up with a new idea. 

It only makes your headache worse. 

You really should get going with your day. 

There's appointments you need to get to, meetings you have to fill the space in because your brother is going to fail to show up as usual and you have to get your hair and make-up done for tonight. 

You really shouldn't be crying right now. 

Are you even allowed to cry? 

Your fate was probably decided the day you were born, five months and a few days after Yunho. 

“Shit.” 

Sobbing is useless, so you get in the shower. You do your skincare routine and plan the outfit you're going to wear to the office while you cover your eyebags and try to make it look seamless, natural even. 

If the struggle shows up in your face, you're going to get yelled at downstairs. 

Living with your parents might be a bigger nightmare than getting presented with Yunho tonight but there's really nothing you can do about that, either. 

Working in their company, gaining connections through them and being praised by simply having your last name attached to your first makes you completely useless when faced with a situation where you simply want to tell your mom to fuck off. 

“Y/N, I hope you already weighed down the options for the dress you're wearing tonight,” is what greets you when you enter the dining room, breakfast laid out perfectly across the table both your parents sit at. She's glancing at you in warning “And I hope you know that the navy blue dress is the best option. It's on theme and it's classy, it shows your figure too.” 

Fuck off. 

You might've been taught a bunch of things while growing up in this tinsel bubble but never ever were you taught how to stand up for yourself. 

It shows in the way you nod and smile and sit down on your designated spot next to your dad and in front of your mom. 

“Navy dress it is, ma'am.” 

The nod she gives in approval makes you nauseous. At least she's not saying anything about Yunho. 

“Excellent choice, dear.” 

You swallow the food on your pre-portioned plate with a tight throat and, after sipping your black coffee, you turn to your dad. 

Feeling a little delirious on lack of sleep and a little bold, especially when it comes to work related matters, you take the opportunity to press on the other thing that kept bothering you the entire night. 

“Father—” 

He sees right through you. 

“No, Y/N. It's not an open discussion, the deal is signed and sealed.” 

“It's not a smart choice.” 

“Kim Y/N!” slamming her utensils down on the table and making everything shake in the process, you barely flinch at your mothers warning “Are you calling your father dumb?” 

“No, of course I'm not,” you defend yourself immediately, the softness in your voice hanging by a thread because all you want to do is scream at her to stop putting words in your mouth “All I'm saying is that he's too generous. That company is not profitable and he gave them half a floor in the building and an initial investment that's going to backfire,” you calmly explain to her what you told him the day before “There’s not really a market for physical media anymore.” 

“And they're trying to bring it back,” your father returns, his eyes never straining from his food “I think it's a great idea. You said a couple of months ago that eighties and nineties style is coming back.” 

“As a trend,” you remind him with a tight smile “And trends tend to die down rather quickly.” 

“Soohyun approved it,” he finally looks up and his next words have you biting your tongue bitterly “You don't have a say on the final decision and you know it.” 

Damn right you fucking know it. 

“Are we clear on that?” 

Glancing at your mother, you notice how she's picking on her food to try and avoid sticking up for you. Not that she normally would but you think, as the years pass, the mistreatment must give her some sort of guilty feeling she can only escape if she avoids your eyes.  

Straightening your spine, you fix your face and smile with fake acceptance “Yes, sir.” 

The tinsel bubble brings in unnecessary amounts of money and privilege, but it doesn't really save you from tradition and misogyny. 

Soohyun is the firstborn, after all. 

He's also a complete fucking idiot. 

You love him a lot, but he's completely useless when it comes to this business. 

Although trained separately and for completely different positions, you always paid close attention to the company. 

You studied hard, you graduated early at the top of your class and went to business school as soon as you were able to. You even got to be valedictorian last year at your graduation and even then you knew you weren't getting your father's role once he took a step back from being the face of the company.

But you couldn't help but wish. 

Wishing and imagining was your way of coping with it. What if you were born a boy instead? You surely wouldn't be in this predicament. 

What if your brother wasn't pampered the way he was growing up? You surely didn't have to step in to save apparences with your employees.

Your day to day would probably flow so much smoothly if he actually wanted to do his job like he should. 

Heels clacking on the marble floor, you strut the hallway into his office to aggravate your headache just a bit more: The space is a mess and when you glance at the tree you started to paint on his wall when he asked you to help him quietly turn the space around but never got to finish it brings your mind to the man who declined your offer this morning. 

And the clock in your mind starts ticking again, faster and louder this time. 

Soohyun’s voice comes out of a corner in the big office, behind some piled up boxes   “Well that's not good.” 

Snapping out of it and turning to him, you cock your head to the side “What is it?” 

“You,” he comes out of his hiding spot, suit barely ironed and hair a little messy which makes you cringe “Usually, you complain as soon as you close that door,” he points at it with a tiny and concerned smile “So now I'm worried they cloned and replaced you, sis.” 

“Well, you made a mistake yesterday and there's nothing I can do now to cover it up so,” raising your arms before tossing your purse on the free loveseat that serves as his lounging area, you sigh “Nothing to complaint about today, except—” you squint your eyes, making a show of pretending to be thinking about it “Oh! I'm probably getting married off tonight.” 

The fake happiness laced in your tone makes your brother scoff. He walks to his desk, sitting down on his chair and shaking his head in disapproval. 

“It's not an engagement, Y/N. It's more of a… Public relations matter.” 

“Oh, so you agree with it?” Blood pressure skyrocketing, you quickly make your way across the space until you stand in front of him “You're fine with it?!” 

“Don't act like you didn't already know this was going to happen eventually,” leaning back, he gives you an apologetic look. That's how you know there's nothing he can do about it either “Jeong Tech is the largest investor, or primary partner and basically the first big successful business we helped to launch here.” 

The explanation is unnecessary. You know. You know he knows you know. 

“And after the stocks falling over that little… Hiccup they had last year—” 

“The selling clients information hiccup.” You recall with a tight smile. 

Soohyun gulps. 

“Yes, that, they need to rekindle their image with the press and, in the process, we gain a few reputation points in the market by association. You know how this works,” looking away for a moment, he bites the inside of his cheek before pressing on “And you two are loved and shipped by everyone online already. Grandmas swoon at the potential TVN drama they could make about your love story.” 

What fucking love story? 

It's more like a gruesome, slashy horror movie to you. 

“Okay, is that why they don't marry me to Gunho instead?” 

“No, Y/N, they don't marry you off to Gunho because he's in love and soon to be engaged to a complete nobody,” he responds right away with a shrug “Besides, you and Yunho—” 

“We hate each other. We—” 

“Now, I wouldn't say that—” 

“—Completely and utterly despise one another. He's the unwanted dirt under my Louis Vuitton heel, he's the bee I want to kill but can't because they are needed for the environment,” you continue without taking a breath “He's somehow needed to this environment,” meaning the company “Although he's attending a public university and detaches himself from his responsibilities because he already has a brother who actually takes care of it all, unlike me!” 

Soohyun doesn't seem hurt at that and you're annoyed he's not. That he knows you well enough to know you're trying to sink your claws into his pride because yours is flat lining as the minutes pass. 

That does nothing but fuel your anger. 

“Unlike me,” you repeat “Who has to take care of your responsibilities because you are too busy playing renovation simulator in your stupid office to attend your meetings! Because if you did attend them you would know yesterday’s decision was a mistake and—” 

“There it is!” 

“—You're going to cost us millions of won for nothing.” 

Soohyun sighs and the way the scowls at the scattered papers on his desk lets you know he's not about to entertain this conversation any longer. 

For the third time today, you are about to lose. And you're a sore loser. 

“You're not getting engaged,” he reminds you, standing up and fixing his hair with his hand, his expression kind and sweet like you didn't just yell at him “You don't have to marry Yunho.” 

You scoff “For now.” 

“Or never, if you don't want to,” rounding his desk, Soohyun pats your head softly like you're a child “Just pretend for a bit and then let him break your heart publicly so that the media doesn't treat you like a stoned hearted bitch.” 

“I am a stoned hearted bitch.” 

He shakes his head “You're not but even if you were no one has the right to call you that,” your expression softens and you kind of want to cry at that, but you don't “Except me. Now, we have a meeting to go to, don't we?” 

Duty calls, like it always does. Your brother steps away and rushes to the door. 

Grabbing your purse and following him out, you fix your own hair in the reflection of the glass separating the cubicles from the hall “Do you even know what it is about?” 

He smiles back at you “Nope but you're going to tell me on the way there anyway.” 

“I hate you.” 

“No, you don't.” 

The call comes after the meeting, when the sun is finally breaking fully through the clouds and your headache is starting to go away. 

Only to come back in full force once you see Yunho’s face as soon as you make your way to your own living room. 

Wearing a formal black blazer with matching trousers and a white shirt, the asshole doesn't even spare a glance at you even when you're sure he knows you just walked in. 

The room started to fill with negative energy. He must have felt it, right? But he doesn't show it. 

He's on the phone, eyebrows almost melting together as he pays attention to what the person on the line is saying. 

“What do you mean he met this girl two days ago?” 

Oh, he's gossiping. Your eyes almost meet the back of your skull when you roll them and, with a sigh, you throw your purse at him. 

He catches it without making that much of an effort. 

Asshole. 

“End the call.” 

“Wait, wait,” he covers the microphone with his hand and frowns at you instead “Shut it up, princess, this is an important call.” 

“Princess? Who are you calling princess?” It's not hard to hear the person on the other line, a poor confused guy, talking back. 

“My mother's friend’s daughter,” he shoots back and gives you a tired look, putting the phone to his ear again and signaling you to close your mouth “Anyways, is Seonghwa sure he wants to introduce us to her? Isn't it too soon?” 

At the name, you perk up. Gears turn in your head, one by one because you're tired and your machinery probably needs another coffee to oil everything up there, but then it hits you. 

That's where you knew Park Seonghwa from. 

You were not proud of yourself for letting curiosity tickle you enough to check Yunho’s instagram page merely six months ago. On your burner account, of course, the one with a fake name and fake pictures so that people don't know you stalk them when you're bored. 

There's this picture on his finsta where they're all sitting around a bonfire. It looked cozy, like they actually love each other which is a crazy concept for you. 

All your friends are fake. Also, the concept of a bonfire is insane. Bugs? Acoustic guitars and careless laughter? 

Insane. 

But it seemed genuine the first time you saw it and it made you burn with jealousy of a life you could never have. 

And in that picture, Yunho was hugging Park Seonghwa. 

Huh. You wonder what would've happened if he accepted your proposal earlier today. 

“Well, okay, uhm… I probably can't tonight. I know I said— Yes, Wooyoung, I know,” he sighs deeply as you sit down right in front of him, one leg over the other with rehearsed poise “I’ll see you all at Hongjoong's gig this weekend, yeah? Okay, bye… I love you too, oh my god,” he giggles and you frown, disgusted “Bye.” 

You immediately go for it.  

“Your boyfriend?” 

“My husband,” his smile is fake and tight and it makes you want to punch him in the face “That's what I'm telling our mothers in fifteen minutes, by the way.” 

Rolling your eyes again, you let out a tired breath “As if that would ever stop them.” 

“So I reckon you know what's going on?” 

“You don't?” eyebrow rising inquisitively and expression turning into a pitiful one, you wonder if that's why he seems so laid back at the moment “Please, indulge me and tell me you do.” 

“Of course I know what's going to happen,” scoffing, he crosses his arms and looks at the living room double doors “Just trying to figure out if you're out of the loop so I can put you up to speed on our escape.” 

“Oh, please,” you huff out a bitter laugh “If you really wanted to escape you would have been out of the country by now. Don't pretend you're not a people pleaser, Yunho,” looking back at you, that familiar wrath burns in his brown eyes and it makes you smirk “Passing the opportunity to hang out with Park Seonghwa and the rest of your public university crew is not usually what you do. You were probably given an ultimatum by your mother and that's why you're here, isn't it?” 

Watching his expression shift from annoyance to confusion to anger in the span of seconds gives you the satisfaction your lost fights of the day took away from you. 

“She's really pretty, by the way. His new girlfriend, the mechanic,” you smile, moving your eyes to the ceiling like you're trying to remember something “Didn't catch her name, though. Tell her I say hi when you see her. Oh, and tell Mr. Park I say hi as well. You don't really have to explain to anyone how you know me after tonight anyway.” 

“How the hell do you know them?” he's full on frowning now and the corners of your lips twitch in amusement “Are you stalking me, Y/N?” 

“Wouldn't you like that, hm?” clicking your tongue in disappointment of his guess, you rest your arms over your knees and lean your weight on them, like you're about to share your secret “I always know everything, Yunho. It's my superpower.” 

He imitates your movements, jaw clenched and chest heaving “And here I thought it was being spoiled and annoying.” 

Shaking your head, you lean a little further now “You're so silly, Yun, you know that's yours… When will you stop projecting your shit on me?” 

“When you stop ruining my fucking life.” 

Oh, he's so easy to mess with. 

“Glad to know you think I have that much power over you,” you bite the inside of your cheek for a second and then sigh loudly and dramatically “Sadly, I can't control what my parents want me to do. Or do you really think I would choose you, the hypocrite who pretends to run away from his responsibilities, out of all the men in the industry?” 

That cuts deep. His face lets you know it does, you also know it's hypocritical on your side to criticize him for getting the treatment you wanted to get to begin with. 

He leans in a bit more “As if I would ever choose you, the most cold hearted snake out of the elite.” 

Fuck him. 

You lean in more, chin up “Mama’s boy.” 

Doing the same, he griths out: “Spoiled brat.” 

“Rakehell.” 

“Psychopath.” 

Laughing, you dismiss the fact that your noses are almost touching to shoot back “I hope you enjoy the way the media is going to tear you apart when it comes out that you cheated on me, asshole.” 

“And I hope you enjoy when Dispatch digs up what you did at that party four years ago, princess. Falling off a table for mixing your drinks and your drugs and yelling at the staff as they tried to helped you out is quite embarrassing, isn't it?” he returns immediately and it fails to intimidate you but the fact that he knows about that angers you and it sparks in your eyes, so he smirks “Not that I would ever leak that information, of course.” 

“You stupid fucking—” 

“Ah, good! You're both here already.” 

Pulling apart and standing up, you both try to regulate your breathing and conceal your flustered state as your mom and his walk straight towards you. 

They're here early, you think. You couldn't possibly have argued with Yunho for fifteen minutes straight. 

“I beg you save the public displays of affection for later, though,” his mom says and with a hand on your back she directs you to sit on the sofa Yunho was occupying before. You sit and he does too and you both make sure to leave enough space for the holy spirit and all deities in between you “We're going to need them for the cameras.” 

Uncomfortable, you fidget on your seat until the warning look from your mother forces you to stop. Yunho gulps beside you, probably just as uncomfortable as you. 

Both women smile brightly like they're not about to lay on you the saddest news of your life. 

“As you both know, tonight's gala is a celebration of the twenty years Jeong Tech and Kim’s Innovation have joined creative forces and built the empire we have the pleasure to see unfold today…” 

Is your mother reciting your dads speech? It sounds robotic, rehearsed, fake and forced and it's not something new from her but you hate it either way. 

“And in celebration of our families friendship, loyalty and alliance,” Yunho’s mom continues and you take in a breath “We're finally making your relationship public!” 

Finally? 

“Finally?” Yunho asks and you lick your lips “Mom, Auntie… We don't have a relationship.” He tells them plain and simple and you don't look at him when you nod in compliance with the statement. 

“Oh, you two have been in love since forever!” His mother dismisses what she just heard “It's only fair to finally let everyone confirm it. This way, you can actually be seen together without our public relations team having to rush to cover everything up.” 

That has never happened. You prefer to stay as far away from Yunho as possible when your free will is actually yours to live with. 

“Mom, we—” 

“We are friends, obviously,” you interrupt Yunho before he dives head first into the depths of hell and his head snaps to you, eyebrows creasing a bit “But it's very much platonic. I don't feel—” 

“Yes you do,” your mother interferes, tone stern and fake smile falling for a second as a result before she composes herself “You have loved him since you both were kids and he saved you from falling in the pool at you tenth birthday,” that never happened and slowly but surely you realize they have a whole story planned out for you “And you, Yunho, realized you loved her when she stayed by your side when you had the flu at age thirteen. When she cried over your high fever and came over everyday until you got better. Right?” 

The question floats in the air for what feels like eons and she has successfully shut you up for good.

You knew, when you first met Jeong Yunho, there was no way of escaping this. 

And he, ever so hopeful and foolish, can't seem to accept it the way you do. 

Standing up, he looks at his mother with so much hurt you wonder if you still have that amount of delusion inside of you “You can't do this to us!” 

“Dear, do not raise your voice at me—” 

“This is the stupidest idea you had yet! I don't care how many years you've been planning this, it's not fair!” He paces around the space and you sigh, looking down at your lap. His voice echoes around the living room and you can practically feel your mom scowl with annoyance at the recklessness “You can't marry me off to someone like it's the eighteenth century! This is ridiculous, I—” 

“You'll do it,” his mother stands up as well, voice firmer than you have ever heard. She's a soft spoken woman, a sweet woman even. She's never raised her voice in your presence and you don't let it show how by surprise it takes you “And you know what happens if you don't.” 

You don't know why you relate to the pained expression on his face. You really shouldn't because you two are, clearly, on two different ends when it comes to pleasing your family. 

His family seems loving, the way his mother treated him growing up felt so genuine you always wished you could switch places with him. Even at times where they thought they were alone in the room and you hid to witness the cracks on the foundation of their love, it never happened.

Until now, when he storms off and she seems rather unaffected by his pain. What she gives off is annoyance, just like your mother, she's annoyed that this didn't go as smoothly as imagined. She moves to follow him. 

“Jeong Yunho!” 

After she leaves the room, there's screaming in the distance, probably at the end of the long hallway. And then, there's silence until your mother breaks it. 

“Well that was an unfortunate mess.” 

Your throat feels like it's closing up but you push through it, standing up when your mother does too. 

“Mother, I don't really think this is the best way to—” 

She frowns at you.

“What are you wearing? A suit?” 

“W-what?” 

Dumbfounded, you look down at your choice of outfit that she saw this morning and then back up at her. 

“I understand there's really nothing that can be done about your body shape but wearing silhouettes like these makes you look very masculine, Y/N.” 

She's doing that thing where she belittles you into submission. Vulnerable because of what you just lived and what you just witnessed, you stand there and take it. 

“And are you wearing makeup? Your eyebags, darling… I can't believe you let Yunho see you in this state.” 

If only she knew you stayed awake the entire night trying to sabotage her plans. 

This triggers you beyond belief. It starts with your heartbeat picking up, with your inner child begging you to stand up for yourself and banging at the walls of the safe you locked her up so many years ago. 

When you both hear footsteps coming down the hallway, she looks down at her watch and your chest starts heaving. 

“You need to get your hair and makeup done in an hour and a half. No need to go to the salon, I arranged things and they're coming over,” she informs you camly, putting on her fake smile when Yunho’s mom sighs at the doorway and when she turns away from you to get to her and loop her arm around hers, you catch his eye as he makes his way to you “Now, how about I show you what they did with the garden, dear.” 

They walk away from the wreckage with a giggle that only raises your panic. 

The fire of it burns your pride, your self image and your capability of keeping it together in front of your sworn enemy.

It doesn't help that he comes in with full vengeance, ready to take out on you what he obviously couldn't take out on his mom. 

“Why didn't you say anything?!” his voice fills the room once again and you physically recoil, which makes him reconsider. He looks you over once and then takes a deep breath before pressing “Why did you tell them that we're friends? We're not friends, Y/N! You should've… You should've told them that you hated me, that y-you were in love with somebody else, anything!” 

Tears cloud your vision and you can only reply in a faint whisper that sounds far away “Yunho, shut up.” 

“Are you seriously letting them get away with this?” his index points at the door and he looks at you like he doesn't know you. He doesn't but he does know what your family is like, so you don't know why it surprises him “Are you seriously going along with this stupid charade?!” 

Air leaves you. You can't breath but you try to and you faintly hear him say something else but it sounds bottled up, like you're underwater. 

“I c-cant.” You try again but it barely comes out.

Breathing in with your mouth, you close your eyes and focus on the way your head pulses. Migraine in full force, it only aggravates the feeling of complete loss of control over your body. But your feet move before you can think, to the couch, to look through your purse because damn it if he finds out. 

He follows you. 

“Is this some sort of sick revenge against me or—” 

They're not there. Why didn't you bring them with you today of all days?

God damn it. Yunho is, somehow, still talking. 

“Because if we don't go out there and let them know that—” 

“Yunho, shut the fuck up! Stop it!” 

Turning around with tears streaming down your face and hyperventilating seems to shut him up for good. 

“What's wrong?” 

He stops, breathing hard with a confused look on his face and his eyes follow you when you quickly move around him to get out of the room. 

“Y/N, wait—” 

You don't wait to see if he's following you upstairs. You only know he is because when you trip midway, his hands are there to catch you.

Physical contact with him is so strange and unfamiliar that you have to push his helping hands away and, quickly and still hardly breathing, you make your way to your room. 

Neatly done by the staff assigned to ready it up everyday before you get home, the order gets destroyed by your panicked state. You look through your vanity drawers messily, full on sobbing and mumbling incoherently as you do and you slam your fist down on the thing when you fail to find your pills. 

“Where the fuck is it?!” You sob out, hand hurting and shaking until you fall to the ground.

You try to recenter, pressing your shaky palms into the soft material of the carpet and sinking your nails hard in it until it starts bunching up beneath your fingers. Eyes closed, you can't see when Yunho knees down next to you but you do jump in fear when his hand touches your arm. 

Looking at him, you see when he removes his hand until, hesitantly, he places it firmly on your shoulder “I need you to breathe with me, Y/N,” he starts demonstrating, breathing in once, holding it in for a few seconds and letting the air go next. You choke out a sob “Breathe with me so you can tell me what I can get you.” 

You want to scream at him to stop pretending to care and get out but you can't. 

Instead, you listen to him. You breathe in when he does, hold the air a second longer than him and let it out afterwards. You do a few rounds of this, just staring at him with tears still falling down your cheeks until the fog in your brain starts clearing. 

It's agonizingly slow and it pains you to let yourself be seen in these circumstances, especially by him. 

“Now, what were you looking for?” 

Coughing uncomfortably, you attempt to get up the floor but he stops you from doing so “You can leave, Yunho, I can get it myself.” 

“You're shaking, Y/N,” it takes for him so say it to look down at your hands, which are barely grasping the carpet now and just hovering above it as they tremble “What do you need?” 

“My pills,” you tell him in a murmur after a few seconds, closing your eyes because, to you, this whole thing is very embarrassing “I don't remember where I put them, m-maybe in my nightstand?” 

“Drugs?” he asks with a frown and you shake your head, too panicky to get offended at the insinuation “Ah, actual pills, I see, um…” He gets up and you open your eyes to him walking over to your bed, sitting down to open up the drawer of your nightstand “You have a lot of shit here. What do they look like?” 

“Prescription bottle, not a blister.  Translucent, white cap.” You're taking control over your own body now, breathing starting to normalize and mind syncing up with the situation again.

Your head hurts still, but it's better than five minutes ago. 

“Here it is,” you hear him say and he's on his knees next to you a second later. You take the bottle from his hand, unscrew the cap as fast as you can and shake it to get a pill out of it “It was behind a bunch of stuff. I'll get you some—” putting the pill on your mouth, you crane your head back and force yourself to swallow it “Water.” He finishes in a whisper. 

When you look back at him, he looks a little freaked out. 

“What?” 

“N-nothing… Do you still need some—” 

“No. Thank you for getting me these, you can leave now.” 

Your tone is cold. The memory of him yelling at you downstairs returns so now you're pissed off and still very, very vulnerable. He's not allow to see you this way or any way for that matter. 

But he just did. 

He stays still and you're about to ask him if he didn't hear you or what but then you follow his eyes and notice he's staring at the way you hands still shake a little while trying to get the cap on the bottle again. You presume he's trying to read the label on it, too. 

“How long have you had them?” 

“The pills? This is a new prescription, so like… A month or so.” 

He sighs, closing his eyes and sitting fully on the floor next to you  “You know what I'm talking about, Y/N.” 

Looking away, you hate that the cat is out of the bag. If only your mother didn't comment on your appearance maybe, just maybe, you could've keep the secret to yourself and take it to the grave with you. 

You hate that Yunho, out of all people, found out. 

But he helped you, so you decide to please him with an answer. 

“I started getting them when I was ten, I think. I didn't know what was happening for a while and then at fourteen I learned what a panic attack was,” you recall, tone sounding breathy and tired and a little annoyed. He nods “And then I got officially diagnosed with panic disorder at twenty, so not that long ago.” 

Eyes back at him, you see him frown and then nod again as if the information you just gave him is hard to digest. It's not, it's actually extremely normal for someone like you. 

It makes you wonder if he has ever felt the same. 

Taking another calming breath, you speak again “I would appreciate if you keep this in between us. Not tell your brother or anything,” you clarify before he can respond “Because your brother is going to tell my brother who is going to tell my mom and that's a whole disaster I don't really want to deal with.” 

“They don't know?” 

“Of course they don't know,” a bitter laugh makes it past your lips “If they knew, don't you think I would be the image of a visibility campaign against anxiety or something like that?”

“They're your family, though.” 

“Blood is thicker than water but I'm allowed to have my secrets,” it's pathetic, the way your vision clouds once more and tears trail their path down your face once nor3 “And you of all people know how exploitative they are, so don't tell them.” 

What happens next takes your breath away again. Not for the reason you expect but it does and, for the first time in your life, Jeong Yunho is able to make your brain malfunction. 

You don't really think he realizes his hand is on your cheek, thumb whipping away your tears so softly it turns to you to a puddle right away

The last time someone handled you with that much care was… 

Never? 

Unable to look away, you catch the second he notices what he's doing and, by the time he does, he already leaned in a fraction into your space. 

Snapping out the weird, dizzy moment you two just had, he lowers his hand and you clear your throat to try and shake your feelings, all of them, off. 

Off. Away. You need to get your shit together and work on depuffing your face before the makeup artist and hair stylist arrive. 

“Listen, if you want to mysteriously disappear tonight and miss the gala you can totally do it and I'll cover up for you. I wouldn't blame you and I don't really care if our parents take it out on me,” your words are fast and your tone lighthearted. Like you're making a joke but, also, you're totally not “In return for you to keep your mouth shut about this,” you shake the pill bottle “I wouldn't do it out of kindness, of course, after all I am the most cold hearted snake of the elite.” 

Scoffing, he closes his eyes and lets his head hang low for a few seconds “You’re so—” 

“Beautiful? Smart? Outstanding?” You offer. 

He looks back at you again “Insufferable.” 

You squint your eyes at him before your lips turn upwards in a sardonic smile. 

Yunho lets out a heavy sigh “I'll do it.” 

“Run away to Timbuktu and change your identity?” 

“Be there,” he corrects, clearly tired of your antics “I’ll be there tonight. We are up to our necks in this bullshit, both of us,” he reminds your “And I'm sure my mother wouldn't let me get far if I did try to run away.” 

The ghost of a genuine smile curls in your lips “Pussy.” 

He rolls his eyes. 

“See? Annoying as fuck.” 

Your smile fully widens at that. Finally, some sense of normalcy after whatever the hell happened a few minutes ago. 

“What dirt does she have on you to make you bend to her will all of the sudden?” 

“She—” 

“I'm sorry to interrupt,” both looking up at your door way, you try your best to hide the pills under your thighs as you eye the staff member suspiciously at his interrupt “But misses Jeong is calling for Yunho downstairs. She says that you have to leave to get ready and misses Kim urges you, miss Kim, to get a shower.” 

“Yeah, she smells kinda bad, doesn't she?” Yunho jokes but the staff member doesn't laugh at his quip. Instead, he earns a push from you before getting up “I'll get going then.” 

The guy bows and disappears at that. 

“Finally.” 

You feel like you have to thank him again for what he did. With words, not actions. But he doesn't look like he's expecting it and the words hang on your tongue without making it past your lips because it's against your morals to thank Jeong Yunho for absolutely anything. 

“See you tonight, Y/N,” he says and you make a face that makes him smile for some reason. He moves to the door but stalls and, as you get up, you see him turn to you one more time “Bring them with you,” he points at the bottle on your hand “Just in case.” 

You huff and close the drawers of your vanity, stashing the pills in one of them “Don't tell me what to do.” 

“I wouldn't dare,” mimicking the staff member, he bows dramatically and you groan “Goodbye, princess.” 

You close the last drawer with a little more force than you intend to as soon as he's out of eyesight and then whisper and amused: “Asshole.” 

Now that's a couple of hours later and your head allows you to lock back in, to focus on the matter at task and prepare for what's to come. 

Sitting in the car, your chauffeur takes the hill up to the Jeong’s so you can pick up Yunho and show up together to the event. 

Hair beautifully done and makeup beat to the gods, it irks you that your mothers have everything so planned out down to the last details. There's a tablet on your lap and you're rehearsing the backstory they put together for this made up relationship. 

As they told you earlier, you have to pretend you two have been in love since childhood. There's some paragraphs narrating how you supposedly felt like you owe him your life after he “saved you” from failing into the deepest part of the pool when you didn't know how to swim. 

Which is true, you didn't know how to swim at that age but Yunho never saved you from anything. 

Except maybe today, only after aggravating the situation to the point you couldn't help but break down in front of him. 

Pressing a finger down on your temple, you close your eyes and try to wipe the image of him helping you away. Instead, the way the washed your tears away pops into it and you groan, earning a curious look from your driver. 

“Is this hill endless?” you ask in a way to cover up your true grieving and he laughs a little, which makes you smile before complaining again, as a joke. Kind of “That's why they usually come to our house, it takes a whole business day to get here.” 

That seizes your driver's curiosity and you look out the window when their mansion comes in full view. It's majestic, it's modern and it looks really pretty from your balcony at night, when it's all lit up even when you know the probability of someone actually being there is scarce. 

His dad and brother are always at the office, his mom is always at a meditation class or the gym or the mall with your mom and Yunho, well, you can only assume he's never actually there. He seems to have a very active social life and you don't think his mom would necessarily approve of his public university friends being there. 

When the car comes to a stop in his driveway, you look back down and scroll to that part of the document: You're supposed to be supportive on his choice of avoiding a private education, call him humble and down to earth if the question gets asked but not praise the public education system because your dad endorses a really expensive school, the one he and your fake father in law graduated at. 

The one you graduated at. 

It was so freeing not looking at his face in the halls when you started uni and you, quite frankly, don't think about him often enough to wonder why he was allowed to attend the university of his liking and study what he pleases. 

Now you're curious but, as you see him descend the stairs that lead to his massive front door, you're not sure you want to talk to him outside of business for too long. 

He's all dolled up in a navy three-piece, color matching your dress and all. Hair done and out of his forehead, you hate to say it does more for him than the usual style he wears it in. You don't remember the last time his bangs didn't cover his eyebrows and now you're wondering if you pushed all the times you did to the back of your mind. 

It'll be hard to pretend you don't think he looks good because he does and you don't want it to show in your face, so you stay focused on the tablet as he makes his way to the car. 

The driver gets out and attempts to open the door for him but you hear Yunho telling him it's okay. 

“I'll do it, thank you, thank you,” he opens the door and so you hear him more clearly now and he slides on the seat next to yours with ease, a disappointed look on his face when he notices you “Ah, you're here.” 

“They didn't tell you?” sounding boring as hell, you scroll to the bottom of the document and pass the tablet to him, avoiding to look at him again “We're supposed to arrive together so the photographers waiting outside can start speculating and reporting to the media outlets that something might be going on.” 

He grabs the tablet, looks at the document for five seconds in total and then hands it back to you “Oh, yeah, I didn't read that.” 

Your driver gets in his seat and starts the car, maneuvering out of the driveway in seconds and so you have to brace yourself on the seat to avoid sliding down on it as you're driven down the hill. 

“You didn't read it?” your head snaps back at him and he shrugs “Yunho, we're supposed to pretend we're madly in love with each other and you didn't study?!” 

“We've been pretending to get along in front of our moms for over a decade, Y/N,” he deadpans “We're doing the same tonight, only at a bigger scale. It's not that complicated,” shrugging again, he looks out at the street for a second before looking at you again, a disgusted expression on his face “I hope you're not expecting me to be all over you because now that I can't fake.” 

“Because you're never felt the touch of a girl in your entire life? I know that, loser,” he's about to retaliate but you stop him with your index finger “You've been away from the spotlight for way too long. You don't know how ruthless and scrutinizing the people attending are, I do. So sit pretty and study this.” 

You shove the tablet back and he groans, looking through the document briefly again. 

“And how do you know who's attending?” 

“Page ten through twenty five. There's a detailed list with names, occupations and hobbies so you can have possible topics of conversation. I also took the time to highlight in pink the ones I want to avoid,” you point out and he moves his finger on the screen until he gets to the list, scoffing in amusement a second later “You should avoid them too. Especially the Hwang’s,” he gives you a look, asking for an explanation “They gossip too much, their friend groups are filled with snakes who can't take an NDA seriously and the girl is a little in love with you, so she'll flirt with you the entire night.” 

“I don't even know her.” 

“You don't have to, she's in love with the idea of you and your family's influence. Seriously, Yunho,” you let out an annoyed noise, crossing your arms over your chest “It's like amateur hour with you. You should know this.” 

“I live a normal life, princess, I don't know any of this because it's not important to me,” he states as simple as that and you shake your head in disapproval “It shouldn't be important to you or to anyone, really.” 

“Oh, but it is,” you return and when you look at him he's looking back. There's this electricity passing in the space in between you, something dangerous that's the tail tale of how different you both are and you start asking yourself how are you going to pull this whole thing off “And now, it is to you. You're about to enter a ballroom filled with people who admire you for simply being a Jeong, people who want to be you. It's hard and it’s pressuring but you declined my offer to not show up earlier today, so fucking own it.”

There's a pause where you see his jaw clenching, you see him shift uncomfortably and adjust his tie before presumably telling himself to relax. 

“And study as much as you can, I'm not covering up your mistakes.” 

The rest of the ride to the venue is silent and, when you get there, you exchange a look with your driver that's both apologetic and a request for discretion. You know your staff is discreet but you thank them every time you can because it's a lot of shit to handle. 

“Here you go, honey.” The pet name almost makes you gag but you take the electronic from his hand, lock it and give it to the driver to safekeep. 

“I prefer Y/N,” or even princess, because you're used to it “Don't try that inside.”

Rolling his eyes, he sarcastically lets out “Anything else your highness wants from me before we get off?” 

“Yeah, for you to shut up and leave me alone forever after tonight but that's not really going to happen, hm?” You can see through the tinted windows how people gather outside to try and see who's inside the car and so you fix your hair with your fingers and then turn to fix Yunho’s tie. He makes a noise of disagreement but you shush him “Oh and for you to open the door for me?” 

He levels you with his stare “Can't do it yourself?” 

“Fucking do it and stop asking questions, Yunho.” You say under your breath and he smiles a little, triumphant like he just won something only for pissing you off. 

Neither one of you want to lose the staring contest you suddenly have going on and it's, once again, electric. The tension is palpable and not in a positive way but you have to act quick when his brown eyes scan your face and linger where they don't need to. Hand still on his tie, it's tempting to try and choke him with it so instead you just tighten it a little more and it serves as a 

“Now, Yunho.” 

When he gets out of the car, you hear people gasp. He's not usually at these types of events because his mother must indulge him a lot. But also, he's usually seen with a frown whenever he does attend, so it must come to a shock to everyone he actually showed up. 

It came with a shock for you too, you're not going to lie. You fully expected him to back out on his word and leave you hanging to deal with the shitshow yourself, no matter what he said this afternoon. 

Rounding the car, he doesn't make the dramatic pause you were hoping for before opening the door and offering his hand to you. The gasps intensify once you elegantly get out, flashes going off and blinding you for a second before you take your surroundings in and loop your arm around Yunho’s. 

There's people screaming both your names, asking questions that you don't get to answer because it's not the time for that and this is not a red carpet you have to walk through. 

You wave your hand at the cameras, bow to the photographers and smile brightly when a girl behind an iphone tells you how pretty you look. 

That would be the first person to compliment you today.

You don't turn to see what Yunho is doing, probably handling the attention in his own weird, detached way like he normally does and when someone signals you both to get going inside, you follow the person until the doors of the venue closing behind you drown out the paparazzi noise. 

In the solitude of the initial hall, you see how Yunho lets his posture fall and lets out a breath “Well, I hated that.” 

Condescendingly, you smile at him “Poor baby,” you lean in a bit into him “We’re only getting started.” 

The horror on his face as he stares back brings out a nervous feeling inside you, but soon you're dragging him by his arm and following the staff member down the hall. 

And when she opens the door into the ballroom, you let the feeling overcome you for a second and you gulp because of it. 

Only getting started indeed. 

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH. This is part one of three (possibly more if the story extends that far). Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

© jensthwa, 2024.

[fivebrights]

Emotion Booth | Songs for Stanley, the Narrator, and many of the endings.

An expanded ver of the original fanmix, because I finally got to play TSPUD and it permanently rewired my brain the same way TSP did way back when. Happy 4/27; Let's Begin Again.

▶Listen (Spotify)

(tracklist & annotations under the cut)

[SIDE A] 1. Existential Crisis Hour! (Kilo Kish) [Intro/Confusion Ending] 2. Watch the Show (M. Ward) So tomorrow on your way into work, who will be wearing the emperor's clothes? 3. Soundproof Box (Ami Saraiya and the Outcome) Living behind these walls it feels like living in a soundproof box. 4. You're Alive (ANIMA!) [Apartment Ending] Sidewalk walkers, empty vessels, task completers / Go through the motions, keep repeating. 5. In the Glass (OK Go) [Real Person Ending] I tried to call out to him but the glass was perfect. 6. A.A.A. (Squalloscope) Can you do me a favor? Can you give me one cent for everything that doesn't make sense? 7. Crazy (Gnarls Barkley) [Mariella Ending] I remember when I lost my mind / Even your emotions have an echo in so much space. 8. Vein of Stars (The Flaming Lips) [Zending] They'll glow from above our heads / Nothing there to see you down on your knees. 9. Vertigo (The Guggenheim Grotto) [Powerful Ending] It's not that I fear the fall or crushing my bones / I fear the desire to heed the call of that unknown. 10. Humpty Dumpty (AJR) He said, "Screw it, I'mma smile right through it, and I'll scream when no one's around." 11. Why (Andrew Bird) Why'd you do that? You shouldn't have done that. 12. Complaint Department (Lykke Li) [Countdown Ending] Me oh my your luck seems to be no more / If you want to complain, I'm not the complaint department. 13. The Cruel, the Kind and the Bad (Psapp) [Museum Ending] He's taken all your best years away, but he's all that you can find. 14. The Great Escape (Patrick Watson) [Escape Pod Ending] Looking for a way home, looking for the great escape.

[SIDE B] 15. Good Old Desk (Harry Nilsson) [intro] 16. Honest Feedback (Saint Motel) Of all the illegal ways to take someone's life, there's one just as sharp and it's sharp as a knife / it's called honest feedback. 17. Longform (The Dodos) [Theme for the Memory Zone] To place an installation now for all to come and bring what they think about. 18. Eight Seven (Psapp) Though I call you won't reply / You watch me rooting through each door, you watch me lie. 19. Alive Alone (The Chemical Brothers) [Skip Button Ending] No way of knowing if [he's] ever coming back. 20. Here for Good (Jason Lytle) [Epilogue Ending] I'm here for good. 21. X-Rays (Gomez) We didn't turn it on, but we can't turn it off. 22. Since I Left You (The Avalanches) [Freedom Ending] Since I met you, I found the world so new. 23. The End Has Begun (Loudon Wainwright III) [Figurines Ending] We've been here before, you know the signs / The looks and the language, the gestures, the lines. 24. Helplessness Blues (Fleet Foxes) What's my name, what's my station? Oh, just tell me what I should do. 25. Lonely Town (Vulfpeck) He's the mayor of lonely town, population: one. 26. Hallucinating - Mariachi Ver. (Elohim) [Theme for the Infinite Hole] 27. ICE CREAM FEVER (Tomoyuki Tanaka, FPM) [Secret Disco Ending]

[devilbrakers]

tragic love archetypes

was tagged by @katsigian and @swanfey to take this quiz for my ocs! thank you both <3 i really liked this one

tagging: @numbaoneflaya @time-is-a-lake @envergothash @celticwoman @mrs-theirin @lucien-lachance @quickhacked @dameayliins @opaleyedprince @saratrantoul and anyone else who'd like to join!

03. CUPID'S BROTHER

You have been love adjacent all your life. The faint spill of another story that softly grazed your shoulders when stood too close. Whether by design or not, you have yet to build a clear image of what love means to you. The interlocked weaving of a picture locket bound to strand of hair when hugged to tight, the sunpatch that meets your soles in glaring sun dried fields when running with a friend. You are not far from love, but moving between line of collision and avoidance at all times. A faint glimmer on sea lake surface of what could be. There is time to find what you want, find whether it's enough as is. Love is in you, breathing in another day. Continue as you are, realizing the love that is slowly blossoming in your life as it sharpens and clears in brushstrokes

commentary: throws up and dies abt it. this fits them soooo perfectly, this whole quiz killed me. i probably yell abt it a lot but gray loves love and loves very deeply but avoided it for much of their life out of fear and every time they collided with it, it ended poorly until they met their current circle and with time, they've opened themself up to it more and more and started to heal after everything they've gone through :')

07. FATHER'S SON

Breathe down your own neck, it's the sound of smashing fist against furniture in another room again. The wringing hem of cloth and pattern of an escalating heart. Love is tumultuous to you. There is grief and disguised forgiveness to damp down the yearning. A permanent fear of tender flesh spilling out, still- you must refrain of growing attached to the fear you had installed into you. Let go of the notion that love is still to be cherished with a hole in the head. Scrub crimson ancestry off wooden floors and try again tomorrow when your hands don't shake cold from the blood loss. Love isn't a fist to escape. Fill the hole in your head with cotton and know you are to be adored. You are deserving of an embrace without flinching.

commentary: yeah. yeah. dmitri grew up in a neglectful household surrounded by only unhealthy, chaotic relationships and dynamics so it's all he knew for much of his life. so it's something he sought out for some time, finding a semblance of comfort it in despite not actually ever feeling safe. he's always had one foot out the door and found himself undeserving of any sort of gentleness or long-term commitment despite his arrogant, laid-back facade. genuine love scared him for a long time.

04. SUB ROSA

Love is a game of here and there to you. Whether catching glimpse of another's neckline or grazing a knuckle between knocking shoulders of passing by. You have learned to adore in secrecy, the rawness of an outright confession to be spoken a foreign terror. There is ease in pursuing the unavailable, to remain within the space of possibility and nestle the fuzzy words another could say to make or break your day. Instability spun itself into mysterium and while the certainty of love in aging isn't to be forced upon anyone, there is a miniscule part of you testing the limits of ambiguity. Hold down the feeling and settle in the leather seat of a car, kiss the corner of a mouth and say how you feel. Your affection in its vulnerability is to be seen, lift the veil and do not fret when an honest word turns into all you have secretly yearned for. You are meant to be noticed and openly loved.

commentary: venus had never truly been in love until johnny was forced into her brain. a certain level of fondness for some of her more entertaining flings that was kept safely hidden, sure, but never genuine love. she's never let anyone get close enough. she's flighty, selfish, and a compulsive liar with brick walls around her heart. she wasn't sure anyone could love her. there's always been a comfort in a lack of interpersonal stability until she met jackie and she found it wasn't so bad. of course, that was taken away from her but it set her on the right path and she began to love more openly and kindly, and wants that in return.

05. MOTHER'S DAUGHTER

Being her child was akin to a whispered apology, another wailing hug, another day you repent for complaining about the fact that she hasn't said anything nice to you. You bring her flowers and are met with the inconvenience of a vase that has to be found instead. You bake for her and feel the warmth of fresh cut bread fill the kitchen; but the dirty dishes remain. Even if you were to bring in the mail and lay down the knife next to your plate, she'll cradle another. Love is an endless apology to you. Averting eyes to desperate tears and sunken teeth in lower lip at the dinner table. Do not repent for who you are, as it is enough. Gather your courage to love again and reveal the honeydewed structure of a swelling heart once you feel safe to do so instead. Love isn't a confession booth of all you are not, settle down and unclasp your hands. You're all anyone could want already.

Commentary: results that make ur c.diff kill u instantly. "Love is an endless apology to you" and "you're all anyone could want already"... YEAH‼️. He's the sweetest but he's never been able to see that for himself. He finds it difficult to not see himself and his feelings as an inconvenience so he's always felt the need to apologize to those he loves for everything😔

[wikifuck]

Alejandro Ortega (he/him)

Overview

His true age is unknown but it is over a hundred, maybe two. Idk I haven't narrowed down what timescale this world works yet and I don't feel like lying to you or trying to talk around it. For the sake of a reference point, he was an adult by the time of the USian civil war (the first one, not the one brewing in 2024)

Alejandro, or Ali, is from my fantasy romance Puppylove.

He is charming and friendly but also knows how to be snarky and funny. He doesn't talk about himself much, instead preferring to learn everything about the people around him. This makes him appear mysterious, though he himself thinks he is completely normal. He is one of those people who like to make you feel heard and understood.

He follows laws and social rules to the letter, not necessarily the spirits. He likes staying low profile in conflicts but isn't completely opposed to playing dirty if that's needed. What matters to him the most is that his friends think he is good, not necessarily if he himself feels good about his actions. This means he may go against his own morals to appease others sometimes.

He was born in Spain but migrated to the states after being turned into a vampire.

Like this character? Read his story here! :)

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Genre :: Fantasy, Soft Romance

Mention of death

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Basic Information

Nicknames

❛ Ali ❜

Pronounced closer to "alley"

The humans in his life like to call him by this name affectionately. He has no feelings on the matter.

☯

Name

❛ Alejandro Ortega ❜

Ortega isn't his original family name. After he died he took the last name of his vampire mentor/father, Gore Ortega.

❛ Panadero ❜

It means 'baker' in Spanish, as he was the son of a baker. This name is one of the few things he remembers from his life before death, and if he is very honest with himself, he might even be remembering it wrong.

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Birthday

He doesn't know

People haven't always felt the need to track the exact day and year a baby was born. He has a hunch it was around May, making him a Taurus, but even the decade is hazy in his memory.

☯

Age

~200

Since he died around the age of 20, his looks and brain chemistry have been stopped permanently at that age. He is as wise as anyone his age (though he is young for a vampire) but this is something he is self-aware of and mildly insecure about.

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Gender

Cis male

☯

Sexuality

Gay

☯

Pronouns

He/him

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Personality

Overall Personality

I won't lie, Ali starts out as a rather passive character. This is a remnant of his origins as a blank slate for me to project onto. Over time he has acquired personality, but I'm still figuring out what gets him going. As I write this I'm realising that the first book mostly happens at him, and that is something I will be working on in future instalments.

Adventurous: Ali enjoys travel. He can't stay in one place for a long time, though this is speaking from the perspective of a vampire. He has friends all over the country and the world and so never lacks an excuse to get up and run off.

Luddite: Though he isn't very vocal about it, Ali judges others for relying on tech. Anything that isn't necessary is trash to him, especially if the designer lacked the common decency to make it appealing to look at!

Charismatic: Ali can get along with anyone. He is a social chameleon, being able to fit in anywhere. This is a blessing and a curse, since he can befriend people easily, but lacks a strong sense of identity. He is especially fast to befriend women, as his soft looks and equally pleasant demeanour make people feel safe and unintimidated.

Family-oriented: Though he has some commitment issues, a contradiction in his nature is this: he yearns for connection and safety through having a robust safety net. His worst fears are all related to losing friends and the influence that they bring, and so he spends a lot of time with the upkeep of his social network. He is very much an extrovert.

Natural cook: Ali loves cooking, it has been his preferred art form since childhood. Sadly, after becoming a vampire he lost his ability to taste his own creation, but it hasn't stopped him. He has become great at interpreting the reactions of others to his food, and even if he can't smell or taste anything, he can instantly know if he used too little or too much spice.

Mysterious: Ali struggles to speak what doesn't need to be spoken - or what he thinks doesn't need to be spoken. Since he likes to blend in socially, he is always sucking in influences from others, and this can get tricky when it comes to toxic ways to express oneself. Or rather, not express oneself. There is nothing wrong with preferring to talk about others more than yourself, but if it crosses over to never expressing your worries, or that expressing causing a lot of anxiety, it should probably be looked at. His father is bad at talking about his feelings, and even though Ali was an adult when he met Gore, he has spent a lot of time around the man and so has inherited his bad coping mechanisms. If one could get them to speak of their feelings between each other, that would constitute a miracle.

Ali has learned one thing from spending so much time around the rich and powerful: Never ever speak your true thoughts around them. At first, Ali isn't great at advocating for change. He knows things are wrong and would prefer to wait until things boil over. It takes him finding affirmation of his feelings for him to start acting on his thoughts.

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Love Language

Since he likes to cook, a passive perk of being his friend is that he will cook for you a lot, but this isn't necessarily how he shows affection. He enjoys physical touch, and quality time is his close 2nd favourite.

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Brain

Trauma, plenty of it. I mean, he is old and a member of a minority.

Oh, and plenty of daddy issues.

ஓ๑♥๑ஓ

Habits

Other characters remark at times that he tends to gravitate toward befriending women over anyone else. This isn't a good or bad thing, just an observation that he may later ponder about himself.

ஓ๑♥๑ஓ

Coping strategy

Silence and conformity: though he thinks he is good at it, coping isn't one of his strong suits. He tolerates better than copes. And he is also just as bad at telling when others need to change their unhealthy ways. A bit of a "live and let die" thing he has going on mutually between his friends.

ஓ๑♥๑ஓ

Fears

Losing social connections and security through those connections.

Most of the time this is a passive worry. As a sociable extrovert, he orients his life around people and usually doesn't have to worry about losing friends.

ஓ๑♥๑ஓ

Flaws

Insecurity: Ali knows that his father's treatment of him is wrong, but since he has never had anyone agree on that, he has largely let it slide. Fetcher is the first person to give him hope that he isn't just being a sensitive little snowflake for nothing.

• ━━━━━ • ☽ • ━━━━━ •

Appearance

Overall Appearance

(can you tell I used Sims 3 to make this?)

Cute, sound face and milky white eyes. By the end of Puppylove he has facial burn scars. (not pictured, I can't figure out how to draw)

He has short hair with an accent of pink mixed in that he is rather proud of. (not pictured)

He is 167cm tall, in fairly good shape for someone of his age, heh, and way stronger than he looks.

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Beast form

All vampires can turn into a bat, older vampires into a swarm. However, this is not the same as shifting, though I have not figured out the exact difference. To shifters, it is a life state, while to vampires it is a mere vehicle.

Ali is a young vampire, so he can only turn into a single bat. He uses this form to travel long distances fast and to hide in little holes to sleep the day away.

ஓ๑♥๑ஓ

Tattoo's

None, because he is too classy and old-fashioned for that. Over time his views may change on this.

ஓ๑♥๑ஓ

Piercings

During the 60's he acquired ear piercings. His collection is minimal, currently just a pair of small gold rings. Having his ears pierced was an act of rebellion, but he has since grown to enjoy the way it makes him look, though he still takes them off for formal events and when meeting older vampires. He claims this is out of respect, it really isn't. He doesn't respect those people at all.

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Clothing Styles

He enjoys a good pattern. His wardrobe is minimal since he lives out of his suitcase, so he wears simple and easy-to-style clothes.

His favourite colour is green.

Would he wear a dress?

Never.

Does he wear makeup?

No.

Everyday style

A green flannel shirt and jeans.

Cold weather

I don't even know if he feels cold yet. He wears some warm-looking clothes in a minimal style to not look out of place.

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Species

Vampire

He is a vampire of human origin, hence he is a pretty basic bitch. Burns in the sun, undead, drinks blood, super strength. He has no sense of smell or taste. If he were to eat something other than blood it would pass through like fiber in humans.

There are more complicated Shofter vampires who retain their shifter form. The good side of this is that if theyhave thick fur, these guys can go into the sun for a little bit. Ali's vampire mentor/father is one, a borzoi.

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Culture

High class, aristocratic, white, colonialist, passively racist and sexist etc. Think of real life but with an extra Victorian flare.

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Religion

None

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Language

English is his second language, his mother tongue being Spanish. He speaks both in an old-timey style, not because he doesn't know how to modern slang, but because he is stubborn and likes feeling fancy. His understanding of modern things is actually very high level.

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Setting

Though distinct from Earth in many ways, the planet Puppylove takes place in is based on/inspired by it. Things like countries and languages are roughly the same, though not exactly. The time period is not yet clear but it's roughly speaking contemporary.

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Location

He was born in Spain a long time ago, was raised there until he was 20 and then he met Gore, his mentor. Gore offered that in exchange for Ali coming with him, his family would be uplifted from the small-time merchants they were into a wealthy family. This is how he ended up in the US.

He doesn't have a permanent residence, though he owns many properties. He travels a lot and has gifted most of them to friends and families he patronizes. As immortals, vampires sometimes befriend families and check on them every lifetime or so. This is called patronizing.

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Occupation

Full-time pest on society: landlord and business owner. He is rather hands-off with his money ventures and only pokes his head in occasionally or when things are going wrong.

• ━━━━━ • ☽ • ━━━━━ •

Relationships

Familial relationships

Gore Ortega, adoptive father

These two barely get along. Recently, as in 80 years ago, Ali got sick of his father's shit and decided to venture out on his own. Before this, he acted as the man's henchman and was treated for a long time more like a pet than a real human being. Is that because the guy is racist or because he is just a shit father? Yes.

His biological family is long dead and he remembers very little about them.

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Friends

Tilly Mazie

Supporting character in Puppylove. An energetic teenager who got wrapped in supernatural and family drama. Tilly has known Ali for only a month, yet she already feels like he is family. While the feeling isn't mutual, Ali appreciats her and though he had to leave town in a hurry, he will be sure to check up on her in a timeframe that a witch would find appropriate.

He has numerous friends and acquaintances whom he keeps close contact with.

ஓ๑♥๑ஓ

Partners

Chewy Fetcher Bree, boyfriend

Brand new boyfriend and the man he fell in love with in less than a month, the weirdo. Fetcher is something refreshingly new in Ali's life: someone to affirm he isn't crazy. Fetcher is supportive toward him and he is in turn to Fetcher. They haven't discussed their relationship yet, and Fetehr is under the impression they are open, while Ali isn't quite sure what to do.

ஓ๑♥๑ஓ

Enemies

None

• ━━━━━ • ☽ • ━━━━━ •

[marvelmaniac715]

This is the penultimate instalment of my Chucky fanfiction advent calendar, day 23! This is the first and only part that contains Nica Pierce, one of my favourite characters in the Chucky franchise. It’s from her perspective, but Chucky is very much in it, because he’s inside her body. It takes place in the year that Tiffany had Nica trapped inside her house, so it could be canon compliant for all we know.

————————————————————

Nica couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned, whimpering with fear every few minutes. From the outside, she was calm, but on the inside, she was being assaulted with horrific imagery.

A man having nails launched at his face. A woman in a building that looked like a school being beaten with a ruler. A man breaking his neck after falling from an upside down position in what looked like a basement. Explosions, blood, screaming. And through it all, that laugh.

Then it got more personal. Her father’s drowning, his helpless gurgles as his head was held underwater haunted Nica to her core. Her mother, first being tied up whilst heavily pregnant and then being stabbed. Alice’s nanny Jill getting electrocuted, each spark and jolt tattooing itself into the creases of her brain. 

Barbie having her eye gouged out, a look of horror permanently fixed on her face, with no relief or comfort in her final moments. Ian with his hacked off jaw, tongue lolling out of his mouth in a grotesque fashion.

Finally, Nica was faced with the worst sights of all. Sweet little Alice being used as a puppet to kill people in gruesome ways. Her innocent face twisted into a malevolent smirk as she (no, he) watched the murders with a grim fascination. She must have seen a dozen of these murders, all of them bloody and foul. Then the killing spree came to an end.

One of the victims had more strength than anticipated. In the end, Alice’s death could almost be seen as humane. A quick snap of the neck. She wasn’t in control, she probably couldn’t feel it anyway, not anymore. But she must have been so scared, she was so small, and she would have been able to see all of it, unable to use her own body.

Her musings were cut off by a familiar cackle.

“So, did you like your present?”

Chucky. The monster who had hurt all of those people. Innocent victims slaughtered for his amusement. That bastard probably didn’t know how to feel any emotions besides rage and euphoria at the sight of gore. But he was a damn good actor. He’d sucked in so many people, because he was so charismatic, then he’d killed then and thought nothing of it. Nica hated even having to talk to him, but she had no other choice.

“Why did you show me all of that shit?”

She was able to feel his emotions at the back of her mind. So she felt his dark sense of glee the minute it’s shadowy tendrils caressed her spine. She shivered in fear as he chuckled again, almost mocking her. As if speaking to a young child, Chucky explained why she’d been forced to sit through that horror show.

“To show you that I can and am capable of doing so much worse to you, but I choose not to. Merry Christmas, Nica.”

[bradleymarshall]

It’s like my only option in life is to be rich

I can’t afford a maid

Dishwasher atm is fine

I’ll buy heaps of pans and plates and just stack the dishwasher until it’s full to wash

Won’t touch a plate in my life

Unless I have to

Not every day though

Maid can do that eventually

Just a ridiculous existence

How can I even relate to anyone at all

My experiences are so fucking skewed and left of centre I can’t even explain to a counseller how I feel

You know

I can’t wash the dishes or use a shower

Oh wtf

Yeah I don’t eat anything from any restaurant

Like people ask me

How do you live

I don’t even know

The only way through is to be rich

Then I can afford 50,000 to casually hook up my whole house to bore water

And to cancel my students cause I don’t teach them

They attend my school of music

And I just fly anywhere the fuck I want just doing podcasts

And being openly gay

And making content

If I was rich

I could have a studio

Where I record music

Have green screens

Have a room for props

I wouldn’t have to have my bedroom full of equipment

I could actually make it a bedroom to film scenes in that I don’t have to rearrange every time I film

How the fuck is anyone supposed to relate to me as a genuine connection

Jordan or Adam

Short of casual sex

It’s a miracle anyone can be attracted to me given how fucked up everything is

If I was rich

I could install bore water across my whole house inside a faraday house cage

And then I could shower like everyone else

And wash my hands without fear

Like I need to be rich enough to hire a maid before my parents die

Like how the fuck

I can’t even washes dishes without my fingers falling off

How pathetic

I can put the dishes in the dishwasher

But the pan

I need to be able to wash the pan without touching the soap

It’s just ridiculous

Too hard basket

Just buy 7 pans haha

And hire a cleaner for an hour for 1 hour a week to fucking do everything

Idk everything is just a massive head fuck

Philippines

It’s all there

Permanent maid

Showers

Bore Water

Maybe when I’m rich I’ll just fly Adam to the Phillipines where he can’t escape my love island

But by then I’ll be rich enough to have it in my house in Melbourne

Even the fucking heater is a headfuck

Elaine likes it on

I want it off

But I don’t want to live alone

So what

Solution: have an illusion gas fireplace where the heat isn’t dry? Can there even be a humid heat

Just fucking have a jet engine humidifier going so the whole house feels like it’s on the equator

Move to Queensland

Lose all my contacts here

Crown Maria

They don’t even know im gay

Such a fucking headache

Idk how many millions id have to spend to make it all work eventually

I definitely think my fingers are so bad because of the heater and dish washing

It’s just drying them out so much

Idk what to do

Even a counseller would be like

Idk bro

Doctors and counsellers are all useless haha

It’s too specific

A problem

Bore water

Use boiling water to wash the pan

Only use soap at the end once already clean

Use a long sponge with a handle so there’s no contact

I’m like a fucking retard boy in the bubble

I may as well should sleep in glass oxygen like MJ

My life’s a literal punch line to a joke

Gay retard with everything falling apart from skin to life

And the only thing holding him together is his intj Bruce Wayne brain

If not, he’d most likely be dead

Like dazelle

How many years will it take

Fucking 5?

Until I push this shit up hill

I need to just spend every day behind a computer editing

I promise to never get a normal job

Even that masters of teaching position I’ll fuck off

But idk

Maybe I’ll want to teach down the track

Vcass sounds so fun to teach at idk

Not a luxury life though

How is it

Out of all the people that I’ve seen in my life

Only you, Jasmine,

Seem to stay

And that’s it out of everyone

Everyone

Is it really that hard to stay in contact with people

Xavier, Belle, Tim smith my vocal coach, Benjamin Martin, it’s like, people come and go like the wind. There’s barely any constants but yourself. Life is a horrible tragic experience if you just look around

That song glimpses is so true

It’s only the glimpses of happiness among the oceans of bullshit that make it worth it remotely

Otherwise he “would kill my self today”

Amen

To that

Is the only way people can stay close to me is if they had a romantic sexual attraction to me initially

I wonder

Is there anyone platonic who stayed with me

Xavier

I don’t trust

Is there anyone?

lol

I sound like I’m having a full scale mental break Down again but I’m just venting

“If I have peace, let it last beyond the day”

I want to write a song like that

It’s my favourite song

I come back to it every few months

Him post Malone and Reagan beam haha

I haven’t read a book in so long cause I fear I don’t have time to escape anymore

I’m like those are the things you can do in old age when no one no longer cares for your looks

You know all this is selfish in a way

Cause I talk to you

Cause I feel like my story is so complex the counseller won’t have time in an hour to understand wtf is going on so it’s a waste of time unless I just present one problem to him

But I don’t even know what problem to present first. At least you know everything.

I just feel shithouse for so long now. And now ever since a few weeks back I feel even more shithouse haha

At least I’ve found peace making content with Jasmine laughing there

I love those moments in transit between places where you’re forced to waste time

Like on a plane or on a train

It’s like those long trips

Even to my gigs

Are my breath of fresh air where there’s a few hours up my sleeve I can afford to waste time and I can relax.

It’s like when I’m at home, I’m just sprinting as fast as I can every second, and it’s like I’ve hit a wall and I’m so exhausted. And everything is burning up at the same time, like how can I feel so attracted to boys and also afraid at the same time. wtf is going on

Maybe its only half gay

Maybe the other half is spiritual and intellectual height, which makes you feel lonely among everyone else

Why I can only seem to keep you and jasmine

[qqueenofhades]

Re: the post you reblogged about Bush. I'm 21 and tbh feel like I can only vote for Bernie, can you explain if/why I shouldn't? Thanks and sorry if this is dumb or anything.

Oh boy. Okay, I’ll do my best here. Note that a) this will get long, and b) I’m old, Tired, and I‘m pretty sure my brain tried to kill me last night. Since by nature I am sure I will say something Controversial ™, if anyone reads this and feels a deep urge to inform me that I am Wrong, just… mark it down as me being Wrong and move on with your life. But also, really, you should read this and hopefully think about it. Because while I’m glad you asked this question, it feels like there’s a lot in your cohort who won’t, and that worries me. A lot.

First, not to sound utterly old-woman-in-a-rocking-chair ancient, people who came of age/are only old enough to have Obama be the first president that they really remember have no idea how good they had it. The world was falling the fuck apart in 2008 (not coincidentally, after 8 years of Bush). We came within a flicker of the permanent collapse of the global economy. The War on Terror was in full roar, the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan were at their height, we had Dick Cheney as the cartoon supervillain before we had any of Trump’s cohort, and this was before Chelsea Manning or Edward Snowden had exposed the extent of NSA/CIA intelligence-gathering/American excesses or there was any kind of public debate around the fact that we were all surveilled all the time. And the fact that a brown guy named Barack Hussein Obama was elected in this climate seems, and still seems tbh, kind of amazing. And Obama was certainly not a Perfect President ™. He had to scale back a lot of planned initiatives, he is notorious for expanding the drone strike/extrajudicial assassination program, he still subscribed to the overall principles of neoliberalism and American exceptionalism, etc etc. There is valid criticism to be made as to how the hopey-changey optimistic rhetoric stacked up against the hard realities of political office. And yet…. at this point, given what we’re seeing from the White House on a daily basis, the depth of the parallel universe/double standards is absurd.

Because here’s the thing. Obama, his entire family, and his entire administration had to be personally/ethically flawless the whole time (and they managed that – not one scandal or arrest in eight years, against the legions of Trumpistas now being convicted) because of the absolute frothing depths of Republican hatred, racial conspiracy theories, and obstruction against him. (Remember Merrick Garland and how Mitch McConnell got away with that, and now we have Gorsuch and Kavanaugh on the Supreme Court? Because I remember that). If Obama had pulled one-tenth of the shit, one-twentieth of the shit that the Trump administration does every day, he would be gone. It also meant that people who only remember Obama think he was typical for an American president, and he wasn’t. Since about… Jimmy Carter, and definitely since Ronald Reagan, the American people have gone for the Trump model a lot more than the Obama model. Whatever your opinion on his politics or character, Obama was a constitutional law professor, a community activist, a neighborhood organizer and brilliant Ivy League intellectual who used to randomly lie awake at night thinking about income inequality. Americans don’t value intellectualism in their politicians; they just don’t. They don’t like thinking that “the elites” are smarter than them. They like the folksy populist who seems fun to have a beer with, and Reagan/Bush Senior/Clinton/Bush Junior sold this persona as hard as they possibly could. As noted in said post, Bush Junior (or Shrub as the late, great Molly Ivins memorably dubbed him) was Trump Lite but from a long-established political family who could operate like an outwardly civilized human.

The point is: when you think Obama was relatively normal (which, again, he wasn’t, for any number of reasons) and not the outlier in a much larger pattern of catastrophic damage that has been accelerated since, again, the 1980s (oh Ronnie Raygun, how you lastingly fucked us!), you miss the overall context in which this, and which Trump, happened. Like most left-wingers, I don’t agree with Obama’s recent and baffling decision to insert himself into the 2020 race and warn the Democratic candidates against being too progressive or whatever he was on about. I think he was giving into the same fear that appears to be motivating the remaining chunk of Joe Biden’s support: that middle/working-class white America won’t go for anything too wild or that might sniff of Socialism, and that Uncle Joe, recalled fondly as said folksy populist and the internet’s favorite meme grandfather from his time as VP, could pick up the votes that went to Trump last time. And that by nature, no one else can.

The underlying belief is that these white voters just can’t support anything too “un-American,” and that by pushing too hard left, Democratic candidates risk handing Trump a second term. Again: I don’t agree and I think he was mistaken in saying it. But I also can’t say that Obama of all people doesn’t know exactly the strength of the political machine operating against the Democratic Party and the progressive agenda as a whole, because he ran headfirst into it for eight years. The fact that he managed to pass any of his legislative agenda, usually before the Tea Party became a thing in 2010, is because Democrats controlled the House and Senate for the first two years of his first term. He was not perfect, but it was clear that he really did care (just look up the pictures of him with kids). He installed smart, efficient, and scandal-free people to do jobs they were qualified for. He gave us Elena Kagan and Sonia Sotomayor to join RBG on the Supreme Court. All of this seems… like a dream.

That said: here we are in a place where Biden, Bernie Sanders, and Elizabeth Warren are the front-runners for the Democratic nomination (and apparently Pete Buttigieg is getting some airplay as a dark horse candidate, which… whatever). The appeal of Biden is discussed above, and he sure as hell is not my favored candidate (frankly, I wish he’d just quit). But Sanders and Warren are 85% - 95% similar in their policy platforms. The fact that Michael “50 Billion Dollar Fortune” Bloomberg started rattling his chains about running for president is because either a Sanders or Warren presidency terrifies the outrageously exploitative billionaire capitalist oligarchy that runs this country and has been allowed to proceed essentially however the fuck they like since… you guessed it, the 1980s, the era of voodoo economics, deregulation, and the free market above all. Warren just happens to be ten years younger than Sanders and female, and Sanders’ age is not insignificant. He’s 80 years old and just had a heart attack, and there’s still a year to go to the election. It’s also more than a little eye-rolling to describe him as the only progressive candidate in the race, when he’s an old white man (however much we like and approve of his policy positions). And here’s the thing, which I think is a big part of the reason why this polarized ideological purity internet leftist culture mistrusts Warren:

She may have changed her mind on things in the past.

Scary, right? I sound like I’m being facetious, but I’m not. An argument I had to read with my own two eyes on this godforsaken hellsite was that since Warren became a Democrat around the time Clinton signed Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, she sekritly hated gay people and might still be a corporate sellout, so on and etcetera. (And don’t even get me STARTED on the fact that DADT, coming a few years after the height of the AIDS crisis which was considered God’s Judgment of the Icky Gays, was the best Clinton could realistically hope to achieve, but this smacks of White Gay Syndrome anyway and that is a whole other kettle of fish.) Bernie has always demonstrably been a democratic socialist, and: good for him. I’m serious. But because there’s the chance that Warren might not have thought exactly as she does now at any point in her life, the hysterical and paranoid left-wing elements don’t trust that she might not still secretly do so. (Zomgz!) It’s the same element that’s feeding cancel culture and “wokeness.” Nobody can be allowed to have shifted or grown in their opinions or, like a functional, thoughtful, non-insane adult, changed their beliefs when presented with compelling evidence to the contrary. To the ideological hordes, any hint of uncertainty or past failure to completely toe the line is tantamount to heresy. Any evidence of any other belief except The Correct One means that this person is functionally as bad as Trump. And frankly, it’s only the Sanders supporters who, just as in 2016, are threatening to withhold their vote in the general election if their preferred candidate doesn’t win the primary, and indeed seem weirdly proud about it.

OK, boomer Bernie or Buster.

Here’s the thing, the thing, the thing: there is never going to be an American president free of the deeply toxic elements of American ideology. There just won’t be. This country has been built how it has for 250 years, and it’s not gonna change. You are never going to have, at least not in the current system, some dream candidate who gets up there and parrots the left-wing talking points and attacks American imperialism, exceptionalism, ravaging global capitalism, military and oil addiction, etc. They want to be elected as leader of a country that has deeply internalized and taken these things to heart for its entire existence, and most of them believe it to some degree themselves. So this groupthink white liberal mentality where the only acceptable candidate is this Perfect Non-Problematic robot who has only ever had one belief their entire lives and has never ever wavered in their devotion to doctrine has really gotten bad. The Democratic Party would be considered… maybe center/mild left in most other developed countries. It’s not even really left-wing by general standards, and Sanders and Warren are the only two candidates for the nomination who are even willing to go there and explicitly put out policy proposals that challenge the systematic structure of power, oppression, and exploitation of the late-stage capitalist 21st century. Warren has the billionaires fussed, and instead of backing down, she’s doubling down. That’s part of why they’re so scared of her. (And also misogyny, because the world is depressing like that.) She is going head-on after picking a fight with some of the worst people on the planet, who are actively killing the rest of us, and I don’t know about you, but I like that.

Of course: none of this will mean squat if she (or the eventual Democratic winner, who I will vote for regardless of who it is, but as you can probably tell, she’s my ride or die) don’t a) win the White House and then do as they promised on the campaign trail, and b) don’t have a Democratic House and Senate willing to have a backbone and pass the laws. Even Nancy Pelosi, much as she’s otherwise a badass, held off on opening a formal impeachment inquiry into Trump for months out of fear it would benefit him, until the Ukraine thing fell into everyone’s laps. The Democrats are really horrible at sticking together and voting the party line the way Republicans do consistently, because Democrats are big-tent people who like to think of themselves as accepting and tolerant of other views and unwilling to force their members’ hands. The Republicans have no such qualms (and indeed, judging by their enabling of Trump, have no qualms at all). 

The modern American Republican party has become a vehicle for no-holds-barred power for rich white men at the expense of absolutely everything and everyone else, and if your rationale is that you can’t vote for the person opposing Donald Goddamn Trump is that you’re just not vibing with them on the language of that one policy proposal… well, I’m glad that you, White Middle Class Liberal, feel relatively safe that the consequences of that decision won’t affect you personally. Even if we’re due to be out of the Paris Climate Accords one day after the 2020 election, and the issue of climate change now has the most visibility it’s ever had after years of big-business, Republican-led efforts to deny and discredit the science, hey, Secret Corporate Shill, am I right? Can’t trust ‘er. Let’s go have a craft beer.

As has been said before: vote as far left as you want in the primary. Vote your ideology, vote whatever candidate you want, because the only way to make actual, real-world change is to do that. The huge, embedded, all-consuming and horrible system in which we operate is not just going to suddenly be run by fairy dust and happy thoughts overnight. Select candidates that reflect your values exactly, be as picky and ideologically militant as you want. That’s the time to do that! Then when it comes to the general election:

America is a two-party system. It sucks, but that’s the case. Third-party votes, or refraining from voting because “it doesn’t matter” are functionally useless at best and actively harmful at worst.

Either the Democratic candidate or Donald Trump will win the 2020 election.

There is absolutely no length that the Republican/GOP machine, and its malevolent allies elsewhere, will not go to in order to secure a Trump victory. None.

Any talk whatsoever about “progressive values” or any kind of liberal activism, coupled with a course of action that increases the possibility of a Trump victory, is hypocritical at best and actively malicious at worst.

This is why I found the Democratic response to Obama’s “don’t go too wild” comments interesting. Bernie doubled down on the fact that his plans have widespread public support, and he’s right. (Frankly, the fact that Sanders and Warren are polling at the top, and the fact that they’re politicians and would not be crafting these campaign messages if they didn’t know that they were being positively received, says plenty on its own). Warren cleverly highlighted and praised Obama’s accomplishments in office (i.e. the Affordable Care Act) and didn’t say squat about whether she agreed or disagreed with him, then went right back to campaigning about why billionaires suck. And some guy named Julian Castro basically blew Obama off and claimed that “any Democrat” could beat Trump in 2020, just by nature of existing and being non-insane.

This is very dangerous! Do not be Julian Castro!

As I said in my tags on the Bush post: everyone assumed that sensible people would vote for Kerry in 2004. Guess what happened? Yeah, he got Swift Boated. The race between Obama and McCain in 2008, even after those said nightmare years of Bush, was very close until the global crash broke it open in Obama’s favor, and Sarah Palin was an actual disqualifier for a politician being brazenly incompetent and unprepared. (Then again, she was a woman from a remote backwater state, not a billionaire businessman.) In 2012, we thought Corporate MormonBot Mitt Fuggin’ Romney was somehow the worst and most dangerous candidate the Republicans could offer. In 2016, up until Election Day itself, everyone assumed that HRC was a badly flawed candidate but would win anyway. And… we saw how that worked out. Complacency is literally deadly.

I was born when Reagan was still president. I’m just old enough to remember the efforts to impeach Clinton over forcing an intern to give him a BJ in the Oval Office (This led by the same Republicans making Donald Trump into a darling of the evangelical Christian right wing.) I’m definitely old enough to remember 9/11 and how America lost its mind after that, and I remember the Bush years. And, obviously, the contrast with Obama, the swing back toward Trump, and everything that has happened since. We can’t afford to do this again. We’re hanging by a thread as it is, and not just America, but the entire planet.

So yes. By all means, vote for Sanders in the primary. Then when November 3, 2020 rolls around, if you care about literally any of this at all, hold your nose if necessary and vote straight-ticket Democrat, from the president, to the House and Senate, to the state and local offices. I cannot put it more strongly than that.

[danger-xylophones]

Family Reunion Chapter 9

{masterlist}

Words: 3653

Notes: Notes: Sorry this took so damn long, I got hung up on writing a particular oneshot that is still kicking my ass. Also, I watched Jojo Rabbit and...I was getting Reader and Wild vibes from Rosie and Jojo’s dynamics. Let’s hope I can keep my melodramatic monkey brain in check so I don’t permanently scar both myself and all of you. 

Warnings: Angst time bby get your tissues because I hurt myself writing this, family dynamics are tricky and often problematic especially when one part of said family is clinically insane. PSA: Don’t do this to kids. 

In all seriousness, there is some seriously fucked up shit that happens near the end of this installment that, while not abusive in and of itself, may act as a trigger for those who have suffered from abuse or are currently in an abusive situation. I am not condoning this behavior and I am very aware of the nature of what I have written. I repeat, I do not condone this behavior and I promise it will be resolved. 

Taglist: @and-claudia // @tararuthven // @aberionart // @noiralei // @pinkiemme // @darthsmol // @zabrak-show // @obi-wan-kanbonemi 

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The grip you had on the back of the pilot’s chair was almost alarmingly tight as wave after wave of nausea assaulted your stomach. And your already unpleasant feelings were amplified by the guilty look plastered over Wild’s face as he stood at your side with your other hand in a death grip. You didn’t blame him for the turbulence the three (technically four) of you had encountered upon entering Dathomir’s atmosphere but it was hard to reassure him. In a cruelly ironic twist, your inability to stomach landings and takeoffs was his fault-the effect of having a hybrid child, you supposed. For now, you could just pull him into your side with an arm wrapped around his shoulders as Savage guided the ship. 

The turbulence had also disturbed Maul who had chosen to express his discontent in ear-piercing wails. For as much as you loved Maul, you were eager to have him capable of articulating his feelings again if only to make him stop screaming. It seemed that Savage felt much the same way, “Patience, brother.” The yellow zabrak muttered quietly, “We’re almost home.” 

You closed your eyes as Savage brought the ship lower and lower, not wanting to see the rust-colored ground that was rapidly approaching. Wild pressed further into your side, his small arms wrapping below your ribs in silent sympathy and you squeezed his shoulder back- a completely wordless conversation. The ship jostled slightly as it landed on the soil of Savage’s home planet. You had to quickly clasp the hand previously on Wild’s shoulder over your mouth to keep the bile from rising. Savage, not taking note of your current crisis, stood from the pilot’s chair to stalk towards the cargo bay. “Should we go with him?” Wild peeped from your side after you regained some control over your stomach. With a shaky nod, you turned around to follow Savage with Wild in tow, stuck to your side like glue. Savage was barely past the threshold before he stopped to observe his deranged brother who was crouched amongst the crates, clawing at the air wildly like he did when you and Savage first found him. 

“Brother,” Savage spoke first to which the only reply was ‘Kenobi’ muttered over and over again. “Brother, we have to go.” 

Once again, “Kenobi.” and the creaking of crates as Maul moved them using the force to form a barrier between himself and the three of you. You sighed, already able to guess what your next task would be at the same time Savage rolled his eyes. 

“Fine.” Savage scoffed with an eye roll, “Stay here.” Briefly closing his eyes with a shake of his horned head, Savage turned his attention to you and Wild. “I’ll speak with Mother Talzin if you two work on that-” The yellow zabrak gestured to the wall of crates Maul had formed prompting you to nod in resignation. Savage clasped a hand on both of your shoulders, stooping down rather awkwardly to do so, before opening the bay-ramp and stalking out of the ship. That left you two with Maul. 

“You up for some practice, Wild?” You grumbled as you could tell that you would have your work cut out for both of you. Wild didn’t answer as you scanned for an opening in the barricade. After another beat of quiet from your hybrid child, you spoke again and turned to where you had left the boy. “Wild?” But he had moved away, silently slipping towards the ramp to lean out of the ship. “Wild, what are you doing?” You called and trailed after him before stopping at his side to look out into the murky, red-choked planet. 

The young boy was quiet for a little longer as he stared out at his father’s home planet. “I didn’t think Dathomir would feel this...” He finally whispered. His grip tightened on the ramp frame as he leaned out just a little further. “It’s...I dunno, it feels weird.” His saffron eyes which still managed to glimmer in the low lighting flicked to the left and to the right like he was watching something that you couldn’t see. 

Slowly, as not to startle him, you lowered yourself to be eye level with Wild and gently placed a hand on his back, between his shoulder blades. “Wild, what is it?” You asked softly, allowing your own force sensitivity to take over. 

“Mom, something’s different here I-I can’t pinpoint it.” He was right, something was different. The dark side was strong here and it felt like it was pouring into the ship to culminate around something-presumably Maul. Wild must be picking up on it. You knew he was familiar with what the dark side felt like when in the presence of someone who had aligned themselves with it-he had to be by now given he shared a ship with Savage and Darth Maul. It had to be that this was his first exposure to a planet that was aligned with the dark side. 

“Wild, that’s the dark side. Dathomir is strong in it-that’s where the witches get their magicks from, well sort of, at lea-” Wild cut you off, turning so sharply that you were knocked off balance. 

“No! It’s not that...it’s...it’s something much worse.” You were struck silent as Wild’s panicked gaze flickered over your features before glancing over at Maul. “We shouldn’t be here, mom.” He shook his head and backed into the ship, his gaze didn’t leave Maul who had gone quiet. “He shouldn’t be here.” You followed Wild’s stare as your brows began to furrow until your own eyes landed on Maul who was watching both of you like a loth-wolf. 

“Wild, what are you talking about?” Your voice shook despite your efforts to keep it steady. 

“I don’t know.” Wild’s tone was strained, fragile, and fearful. Your son was terrified of something and that just made your distress grow. “I don’t know what I’m sensing but it isn’t good. It’s angry, it’s controlling, and it’s so possessive. Mom…” He turned to you then, latching his arms around your middle to bury his face against your stomach. “I’m scared.” Your heart shattered and you fought the sob that threatened to tear itself from your throat. Your hand flew to the back of your son’s head as you sank to your knees to wrap your other arm around the tiny red boy. He trembled as you held him, trying to will whatever was plaguing your son away. 

“My darling boy,...” You whispered and held your son tighter, “My precious son,...” Wild pressed his forehead to the juncture of your neck and shoulder, one of his tiny horns threatening to break the thin skin there. “Gift of all gifts, my baby, and sweetpea,” You ran through all of the names you’d ever given him in the softest voice you could muster, the one you would always use to soothe his numerous nightmares and cries that always robbed him of peaceful nights when he was much younger. “I promise, I won’t let anything hurt you.” You swore in a thin voice, carefully maneuvering to press a kiss to your son’s temple. He responded by curling into you further. “Not here, not out there, not on some distant backwater planet, either. You’re my son, my one constant and I will do anything in my power to protect you.” You placed another kiss on his temple, slowly rocking the two of you back and forth as your words began to seep past the young boy’s fog of fear. Eventually, Wild pulled away from you to sit back on his heels with a sniffle. 

“Thanks, mom. I-I’m sorry.” The little boy began in a tiny voice as he, rather roughly, scrubbed at the tear tracks clinging to his face. 

“Wild, starshine, you have nothing to apologize for.” You soothed gently as you wrapped your hand around his wrist to pull his hand away from his face so you could delicately wipe away the stubborn droplets of water. “You’re scared, it happens to us all. If you can still find the strength to face that fear, what harm do a few tears do?”  A small chuckle slipped from you as you recalled your own journey with crying and emotions in general, my how far you’ve come. 

Wild said nothing regarding the wisdom provided in favor of answering with a watery smile and shaky breath. It was still for a moment as your son went about collecting himself and you were more than happy to offer him the silence he clearly wanted. But, where you were willing, the only other person in the ship beside you two was not. Maul, who had previously been watching the exchange soundlessly, was poking his head out from between the crates surrounding him to peer curiously at your son.  

Wild sniffled once more and looked up at the unmistakable click-click of his strange spider legs against the durasteel of the cargo hold. The young boy was reacting before you could do anything. “What are you looking at?” Wild roared as he sprung to his feet, startling Maul who growled back and ducked back between the crates. 

You were baffled by your son’s reaction. Wild didn’t raise his voice often and in his eleven almost twelve years of life, you had never seen him yell at someone he didn’t know. Thankfully, you regained your composure quickly enough to lay a firm hand on Wild’s forearm. “Be gentle, Wild. He doesn’t quite understand what’s going on.” You rebuked, careful not to upset the carmine boy. He deflated just slightly. 

“That doesn’t give him a right to stare,” Wild muttered and turned away from you as you rose to your feet. 

“No,” you hummed contemplatively as you brushed some imaginary dust off your legs, “No, it doesn’t. But that doesn’t mean he is in the wrong.” Wild sent you a deadpan look. “Maul…isn’t of sound mind so he’s lacking in decorum. We must act with patience and grace.” You reaffirmed before tiptoeing over to the crates and beginning to move them out of the way. 

“You make it sound so easy.” Wild muttered again, raising a hand to try and push one of the boxes using the force. It screeched against the durasteel as he scooted it, making the young half-zabrak cringe. 

An airy, nervous chuckle tittered past your lips before you could stop it. “Believe me, Wild, it wasn’t easy to learn.” You paused, two crates hovering just off the floor as you regarded your son. “I am not patient by nature.” 

“You’re not?” 

“Kriff no.” You snorted, making Wild grin. “But, for better or worse, your father helped me learn.” Your mind briefly flashed through every single argument you had ever had with Maul: from the petty to the severe. Each one, no matter how consequential felt like training for what was to come. Now, after you had raised the boy without his father and were now facing the possibility of getting the love of your life back, every fight felt like a test to build the patience you would desperately need later on in life. Especially now as you gazed down at the pitiful creature your love had become. “We both had to learn or else I don’t think we could’ve worked.” You mumbled under your breath, e/c eyes boring into the crazed gold and vermillion of the former sith lord before you. 

The air shifted much like your son as he adjusted his weight on his feet. “What...what do you mean?” He eventually asked in a small, tentative voice. 

You sobered up quickly and reached a hand out to Maul who latched onto the appendage, clasping it between both of his hands. “I often went months without seeing your father-our paths kept us separated for so long.” They’d kept you separated even after you left the order and he had been abandoned by his master. “It’s a miracle we stayed together.” You were separated even now. Maul lost to his madness and you tied to his son by an oath you swore the day he was born. “...he didn’t even know I was pregnant with you.” 

“What?” Wild breathed out in shock. You closed your eyes, begging for your mind to direct itself elsewhere. 

“Hey, wait for me!�� 

“Anakin, stay where you are. You’ll be safe there.” Qui-Gon’s voice was firm, indicating he was not to be trifled with. And justly so, you were in the middle of a battle. Why they had let a nine-year-old stay with Qui-Gon was beyond you. The boy was just going to get in the way. Though, in all fairness, the council also let a pregnant woman go back to Naboo whilst dealing with a blockade that was apparently engineered by your husband’s master. Force, what a messed up time you were having. 

“But I-” Anakin, the little boy from Tatooine that was currently causing you to rethink your whole strategy for hiding your baby’s father’s identity, tried to protest. But one pointed index finger from Qui-Gon and his opposition died on his tongue. 

“Stay in that cockpit.” Qui-Gon ordered as you marched past the fighter the boy found himself ‘hidden’ in. You and Obi Wan shared a look that spoke volumes despite how standoff-ish your fellow padawan had been since that damned meeting that had prevented you from explaining your situation to your lover. You had, of course, immediately tried to contact Maul again and again and again to beg him to do something that would give you the chance to slip away and into his arms but every time you were interrupted. It would have been funny if not for the fact that all three of your lives would be jeopardized if anyone found out who had fathered your baby. The final time had been entirely Queen Amidala’s fault as she decided that it would be a grand old idea to go back to her home planet. The star-cherry on top? She had requested you to accompany her. However, you considered yourself clever. You could make this work for you if you played your cards right. You knew Maul was on Naboo, you could sense him-the dark side was unusually powerful on Naboo. The trick was slipping away from the two Jedi accompanying you to go find him. For now, you were stuck marching behind roughly two dozen Nubian pilots, the queen herself, Qui-Gon Jinn, and Obi Wan Kenobi. You would just have to be patient; wait for the perfect opportunity to slip from their grasps. Maybe you’d take a little tumble over the edge of a balcony or maybe you’d find yourself ‘cut down’ by one of those battle droids? Either way, you’d just have to wait till you could fly to your love...wherever he was on this infernal, though very beautiful, planet. 

“Yeah….” You sighed unsteadily as Maul toyed with your fingers. “I was...a little over three months pregnant when I last saw him again...on Naboo.” 

“Quickly, Y/n!” Obi Wan yelled over his shoulder as you both raced to catch up with Qui-Gon and the Sith, your Sith. They were rather evenly matched and you could see Maul’s strategy clear as day. If he could separate Obi Wan and Qui-Gon, he could easily take the latter down. The struggle for Maul was being able to land a finishing blow on one without the other moving in to intercept and continue the fight. You did what you could to stay out of Maul’s way while also trying not to make it look like you were running. If you ran and Maul...lost...that wouldn’t look too good for you. You could only blame your ‘slow reactions’ on your pregnancy brain for so long. 

To accomplish his plan, Maul was trying to draw Qui-Gon to the reactor shaft where he could use the ray shields to further divide Obi Wan, Qui-Gon, and you. And it worked for as soon as you and Obi Wan caught up, the ray shields went up too; cutting off you and your fellow padawan and Qui-Gon from Darth Maul...alright, admittedly that part probably wasn’t in his plan. You skidded to a halt and just barely managed to grab Obi Wan by the collar before the older padawan accidentally smacked into the ray shield. The four of you fell deathly quiet at the interruption-the only noise to be heard was the deceivingly gentle hum of the harmful shields and the thrum of the five lightsabers currently ignited. 

You jumped suddenly as Maul tapped the ray shield with the tip of his lightsaber as though he was trying to taunt Qui-Gon who was just on the other side and Obi Wan sent you a look, laying his free hand on your shoulder. A quiet thank you slipped from your mouth as you bowed your head to him and sheathed the heated blades of your dual lightsabers for a moment, Obi Wan following soon after when Maul did the same. 

Carefully, Qui-Gon took a seat on his side of the shield and promptly began to meditate which afforded you the opportunity to meet Maul’s gaze for the first time. He was indescribable. A deep, foreign fury clouded his eyes choking the shining gold with vermillion. His brow was furrowed, a sneer marred his face, and for the second time since your very first meeting, you could clearly see the hatred he held for the Jedi before him. At that moment, he wasn’t your husband. He was Darth Maul. A completely separate being from the zabrak you had come to know and love. You just hoped that he would return to you when the time came. 

“Naboo?” Wild asked, slowly approaching. You didn’t look away from Maul as he clung to your hand a little tighter. 

“Kenobi, Kenobi!” Maul suddenly started to growl and his nails began to dig into the back of your hand. “Far above, far above, we don’t know where we’ll fall!” The zabrak’s eyes stayed trained on your feet as he started to pull on your arm as if trying to climb up it. “Far above, far above, what once was great is rendered small!” He then proceeded to burst into tears. 

“What is he talking about?” Wild sighed in agitation and stepped up to stand right next to you. Maul’s crying ceased for a moment as he turned his head towards Wild. 

“Not a clue-ow!” You were cut off as Maul’s grip grew exponentially tighter. 

“Kenobi, Kenobi!” Maul pressed in a growl. 

With an exasperated sigh of your own you nodded and began trying to loosen the zabrak’s grip. “I know, Maul, I know. Kenobi. It’s his fault-will you let go?” The words hissed through your teeth before you were aware of them. 

“Wait, you know the ‘Kenobi’ he keeps talking about?” Wild snapped his attention to the side of your face as you continued to try and pry Maul’s hands off of your arm. 

“Yeah...he’s the padawan that went with me to Naboo and the reason Maul was...y’know, thought dead.” 

“As in...Obi Wan? You told me that he was the one that killed my dad...on Corellia during a riot that dad was trying to suppress.” You froze. Wild continued. “You told me that Corellia was the last place you saw him. Not Naboo.” 

“Corellia, Naboo. What difference does it make if he’s supposed to be dead?” You muttered under your breath. Your free hand came up to pinch the bridge of your nose as the other flexed into a fist. 

“A lot!” Wild yelled and you jumped. Slowly, beyond startled by his outburst, you turned your attention away from Maul and to the little boy at your side. “It makes a lot of difference.” He hissed, small red hands clenched into fists at his side. You could only stare at him with wide eyes. “Mom…” He took a steadying sigh and flexed out his hands. “Mom, what’s going on?” Wild asked with wide, sad eyes as he reached out to grab your arm. 

Maul roared and leaped at him, his unoccupied hand reaching to claw at the young boy who gasped in shock and stepped back as you barely had enough time to maneuver between Wild and Maul. He pulled up short. You finally wrenched your arm free from his grasp. 

“What the kriff is wrong with you!” Wild growled back from behind you as you both backed away from Maul. Said zabrak growled again and began to puff up. 

“Stop it!” You commanded. Maul took a step closer. “Stop.” Another step, you two backed up. “I said stop!” You raised your voice at Maul as he took another step. Dreading what you knew you might have to do, you raised your hands. “Maul,” another step, the dathomirian’s gaze zeroed in on Wild, “I told you to stop!” You summoned your strength and sent a hard shove through the force to Maul that sent him skidding backwards:not enough to topple him but definitely enough to get the message. His real legs collided with the crates he had previously hidden behind and the former Sith toppled end over end over them before landing with a startled cry. You collapsed, curling in on yourself at the guilt that already gnawed at you. Trembling, you turned to Wild who had watched on with wide eyes and clung to the back of your tunic and pulled him into a hard hug. “I’m sorry.” 

“Well,” a new voice unlike anything you’d heard before echoed all around you and seemed to penetrate your body to go straight to your heart, carving a cold and fearful path wherever it went. You looked up and before you, at the end of the ramp to the cargo hold was Savage, “What do we have here?” and Mother Talzin.

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[immortal-teacher]

Albert Einstein said "Everything is energy and that's all there is to it. Match the frequency of the reality you want and you cannot help but get that reality. It can be no other way. This is not philosophy. This is physics"

Most people don't realize that sounds, shapes, colors and words are all connected through various frequency vibrations. Play a chord and there is a corresponding geometrical shape that is in place, and a color associated with that frequency and vibration! Sacred Geometry, sound, chakras

I have figured out how to make anything reality and how the universe works after experimenting with a variety of affirmations and i will explain with knowledge from many teachers that I have figured out the details and proven myself with experiments, memories, scientific explanations and more.

So everything is Frequency and Vibration or nonphysical and physical, We are all co-creators who create frequencies that create and control the material and physical world. We operate and think on frequency, including belief systems are frequencies and that controls our vibration.

Vibration is our body and the frequencies that we operate and think on control the type of thoughts we can have, how we feel, how we interact with all life and everything around us including gaining new abilities, becoming immortal or anything it seems anything is possible once you say or listen to an affirmation, subliminal, mantra, frequency or believe something long enough

then it will come true eventually. The Mastermind Principle explains how opposing frequencies cannot exist in the same area. For example during hypnosis people have proven how if i say my finger is burning hot then it will burn your skin as i get closer and start to blister.

Somebody has put down all his weight on a knife on his neck then got hit full force with a sledgehammer on his back but it did not pierce his skin because his belief/frequency

that he operates on. The frequencies also cause hallucinations based on beliefs, for example i thought people i date would reply fast so when i first got a phone in 7th grade i would message people and past girlfriends and reply fast because i didn't have many chores to do and of course really wanted to talk to my now ex girlfriend so while waiting for a reply from her, i would get vibrations from my

phone just like i got a message but when i checked then i see no messages or notifications and this went on like a hundred times until 10th grade when i got a new girlfriend(ex girlfriend) that explained why it took so long to reply, which is because she does many chores for her family, she didn't have Brothers and sisters around her age to help out.

So i first started learning about how the universe works after 5 years of searching to cure my shyness, depression and slight anger issues, along the way i did some searching into empathic abilities, how to live forever and more through many teachers mostly on google and Youtube, nothing really worked until i found this

video by "YouAreCreators" Youtube channel called "The secrets of frequency and vibration" packed full of cool experiments including how the nine solfeggio frequencies cured 16 out of 16 terminally ill cancer patients

within 70 days which i hear is the worst kind of cancer. So i started both the nine solfeggio frequencies and i am affirmations both free on YouTube at the same time, after listening to them for 2 and a half weeks then i started

waking up with this extremely blissful feeling, super energized, feeling great, thinking faster and more clearly, form more complex thoughts, process information faster, i work at top speed all day like an adrenaline rush and

it seems i have infinite energy but i stopped listening temporarily thinking it would last forever but then the great feelings gradually went away after 72 hours.

Some of my experiments that helped me discover how the universe works include listening and or saying affirmations

like "i am connected to the source, i am a part of god, i am a piece of the creator, i am wise, i am walking brilliance, i am total understanding, i am infinite wisdom, i am genius, i am over joyed, i am educated, i am infinite, i am wise council, i am energetic, i am boundless, i am brilliant, I am Happy, i am Healthy, i am invincible, i am immortal, i am loving, i am caring, kind, strong" and many more

in other people's affirmations then they all came true and when i asked questions in my head then five different times i got answers it seemed i could have never thought of.

I have even tried subliminals for faster reflexes and think fast like a human computer then started catching everything that i bumped off the shelf when trying to work faster including 3 items i dropped at the same time so i lowered my body slightly and hugged them like i could

see them falling in slow motion.

Dr. Joe Dispenza says learning makes new connections in the brain, so the more that you can repeat what you have learned, the more you are installing the neurological hardware in the brain in preparation for the experience then

when you feel the experience and emotion then your teaching your body chemically what you have intellectually understood, then the body understands better than the mind after enough practice. He said our job

is to go from philosopher to initiate to master, from knowledge to experience to wisdom, from mind to body to soul, from thinking to doing to being, from learning it with your head to practicing it with your hands and knowing it by heart.

How you think and feel changes your state of being, (end of the quote) because you think the pill or surgery will heal you then it doesn't matter if it is a sugar pill or fake surgery, it will work, that is the famous placebo effect. I read that most people get results between 21 to 85 days of any daily affirmation, frequency, subliminal, mantra etc then after 3 months of daily practice then it will be permanent.

After saying i am immortal and i am invincible for about a month and a half then i turned around and accidentally fell what seemed to be the fastest fall ever at work because the floor was really slick then i felt no pain at all and didn't even get hurt and i kept track for a month after just

in case if i needed to report it.

After saying that i do not need food to survive, i do not need food to thrive about 50 times daily for 3 days then those 3 days i ate 50%-75% less food because i felt full and could not really eat much throughout the day including my work lunch time that i usually eat the whole time.

Mahatma Gandhi said "Your beliefs become your thoughts, your thoughts become your words, Your words become your actions, Your actions become your habits, Your habits become your values, Your values become your destiny."

I found that fear or doubt attracts what you fear or doubt because I found a new technique while playing pool that I can visualize a tunnel where the white ball will go and the next ball and make the shot everytime if I stay confident, aim

the goal ball first then the white ball with the tunnel but if I doubt I'll make it or fear I'll mess up or get bumped then I can't visualize the tunnel technique so I tried relying on another technique but then I fail.

After

listening to affirmations about world peace then it gave me new perceptions that helped me because i was running on the "be nice" frequency so then i was able to tell

people the right way to do things otherwise i could report them to the FDA for leaving refrigerated food out at room temperature for hours instead of 30 minutes. They would pull out pallets of food about 6 feet tall stacked to fit the most

food on each pallet then say only one person per pallet which took this one guy 3 hours and a half to stock the shelves so now those expiration dates are wrong.

I have tried mantras and subliminals to become more attractive then 6 people flirt with me in one day, everyone was

smiling at me and i got 4 phone numbers from female co-workers because the other 2 flirting was guys but I'm only attracted to females.

Also with Aaron Doughty's help, he refers to Hawkin's scale from "fear to enlightenment" often with examples and his experiences which really helped me out but he still

does not completely know what he is talking about as far as i know but i don't watch most of his videos. I had help from many teachers and i sometimes still look for more

knowledge to improve life for the greater good of all! First

time i heard the detox frequency that is known to eliminate electromagnetic radiation, Viruses, diseases, infections, toxins, bacteria, fungal etc "741 Hz" i heard just about an hour or two then sweat 3 nights in a row so much

during winter that i woke up once each night because the sweat i was soaked in got cold so i dried off and rolled over each night but with constant use i don't notice any sweat

really if i do it daily or weekly. Music tuned to 528Hz gives us more energy daily because it returns our DNA to its perfect form also 528Hz is the frequency at which life is created and when i listen daily then i keep benefits constantly all day.

Other

people's beliefs and our own beliefs and fears influence us subconsciously that influences thoughts, abilities and choices either positive or negative but we can learn what negative and or deconstructive frequencies we operate on by listening to our thoughts and words then reverse the negative and deconstructive ones,

I figured this out because I heard weird beliefs that I didn't believe that effected me in a negative way but now I looped an affirmation video using desktop version for protection from anything negative on my cracked phone it charges slow but it works.

With a world of technology that can brainwash you on a silent frequency displayed on the patent technology website then We must brainwash ourselves for everything good and have a negative and deconstructive frequencies blocker like i listen to daily in my Daily playlist that i try to keep under 6 hours to listen 3 times daily for more effect i add more helpful videos after so i have

something else to listen to while sleeping. We can create new empowering, optimistic, hopeful, loving, gratefulness, forgiving life for all. Always think what is the opposite of the negative, remember to stay and think positive, constructive and always work with science to figure

out what is for the greater good of all and if you ever have questions google or youtube can't answer then ask me, I'd love to help and I've also gained benefits

from meditation, mantras, subliminals, mindful breathing, Orgone Pendant necklace from "wish .com" i believe that the intentions i set in my gemstones to help me

bring world peace, love and happiness to all helped because it does seem easier to teach and twice now after meeting people who told me i was wrong because they

chose one of the 2000 religions which are belief systems from other humans both times christian but my gemstones start shocking my leg when they fill up to much of the negative energy and shock my hand if i touch them, stronger than static shock, like those electric shock pens.

Sungazing the safe way reduces needed food intake gradually to zero by connecting to earth's electromagnetic field I'm at 8 minutes but on your First day the sun should be near touching the horizon and look at

the top of the sun then left, right, bottom and repeat for 10 seconds then only increase 10 seconds once daily until 44 minutes and 40 seconds is completed then the sungazing part is done to get energy just walk on earth slow,

relaxed and barefoot for 45 minutes a day for the average person for enough energy throughout the day but i read many different stories it seems you still can drink and

eat but in the Thomas Jefferson University study they kept track of this man 24/7 for 200 days they monitored all of his bodily functions and they said he didn't eat or drink anything but he did bath and they measured the bath

water and he was healthier than anyone 20 years younger than him and he was about 70 years old.

At another university the same guy was monitored for 411 days but they didn't even believe him about not needing food or drink so i think they said he did accept some buttermilk from them.

I heard one guy rose his frequency and vibration so high that he cured everyone at an insane asylum just by walking in, they told him he could not speak to them but just being near him everyone of them past all the tests to get out within a week.

People with multiple personality disorder sometimes will have cancer in one personality then scan them 2 minutes later in another personality then the cancer is gone. One woman who got cancer i think her name might be Doloris Cannon

but before she went in for her cancer treatment, she forgave everyone in her life then went to the doctor that said after scanning her again that her cancer is gone and that's the only thing she did different in her life and i personally have forgiven everyone for my health without actually telling them and it felt like 100 pounds lifted off my heart.

If you want to know more about the Science just ask or google ~Bruce Lipton~ is a cellular biologist that has proven all the science of beliefs, fears, thoughts and choices creating our reality.

According to RC Henry, a professor of physics and astronomy at Johns Hopkins University, in a 2005 essay: A fundamental conclusion of the new physics also acknowledges that the observer creates the reality. Pioneering physicist sir James Jeans wrote

"The stream of knowledge is heading toward a non-mechanical reality; the universe begins to look more like a great thought than like a great machine. Mind no longer appears to be an accidental intruder into the realm of matter,

we ought rather to hail it as the creator and governor of the realm of matter. Get over it and accept the inarguable conclusion. The universe is immaterial-mental and spiritual."

I had help discovering how the universe works from Bob proctor, Aaron Doughty, YouTube channels YouAreCreators and Universe inside you, Bruce Lipton, The Placebo effect, No Cebo Effect, Mandala effect, butterfly

effect, bystander effect, the documentary on Netflix called "The secret", visual and audio hallucinations, The MasterMind Principle, police report eye witnesses having different stories, experiments, etc and

It

seems the mandala effect is that whatever current frequencies controlling the majority also change history for example according to thousands of people the bible used to say that sampson's girl cut his hair but now with new

controlling frequencies it now says that she had a slave cut his hair to take his power away. This relates to a recent story i heard where the recent President Trump paid his lawyer take the blame for writing something on Trumps twitter account.

I found Dr. Royal Raymond Rife's frequency list and it is over 437 pages long and the first 8 or so is the University studies and then every health problem we can possibly have and what frequency or frequencies cure that problem.

The cancer section is 3 pages long. I seen AIDS on the list and every body part we have and or metabolism for example the frequency and or frequencies that help them normalize to perfect functionality. Also i do teach for world peace, immortality or whatever else to improve life for anyone because i care for everyone but affirmations, subliminals and frequencies takes some time of listening because

they have to push back opposing frequencies like being under a foot or more of water the deeper you go then the more pressure you feel so this is why certain affirmations, subliminals and frequencies seem to take longer

to come true but please trust me i have no reason to lie, someone said something like frequencies are like seeds that you plant they may not produce fruit right away but if you water that seed then eventually it will produce fruit and they were referring to saying the affirmation long enough to get results.

Before i got benefits from starting this journey i did not even think of the concept of how the universe works but i have really put a lot of thought into explaining anything and everything in the universe to get a better understanding of how all of it works.

I plan on changing my eye color to gold to prove it to for friends, family and anyone else because after teaching hundreds of people i have noticed most are cynical and deny anything based off a belief system they have but belief is only a guide to the truth as i see it now, this is why

i could not trust religion i knew it was not me to try believing in something that seemed so made up. So i searched over 5 years learning from many teachers, hypnosis, scientific explanations and more for a variety of questions i had about life constantly thinking of new questions and eventually started enjoying learning along the way then i learned about how the universe works, so i then

started experimenting with the law of attraction, subliminals, affirmations and frequencies to prove for myself if they have complete control or not and so far every

affirmation, subliminal, frequency etc i listen to enough gives me the results i wanted so now my focus is to teach and get this information out there because i want to help people and bring world peace i already sent it to the governor of nebraska and washington but they obviously didn't bring world peace yet so i will share my message

in this video instead of in comments section of many videos to make a difference in the world. I have already started listening and saying my own world peace affirmations and subliminals to help protect myself for when

I am ready to share the truth. I only teach what i have proven through experimenting with hundreds of frequencies, subliminals and affirmations. I am working on perfecting myself in everything that i do or say with great patience.

I was listening to different frequencies on 11 tabs on YouTube before they made Anthony Sommer add in the evil 440Hz in his music after 6 frequencies like stem cell production, collagen production, etc then I felt the different energy centers in me filling up then I would feel a

Slight discomfort that went away after switching to another frequency then after the 7th frequency I felt it all in more detail, it only creates the weird feeling because I was filling up

smaller chakras/energy centers within 20 minutes then it had to use energy to distribute energy to our energy centers nearby. The 9 solfeggio frequencies fill up our 9 biggest chakras so it gives more time to distribute energy so you won't feel the slight discomfort. Aaron doughty taught

me an affirmation "i am whole and complete," it means that i do not need anyone or anything to fulfill me or to complete me, i simply relax and focus on what i need to focus on then time flys by faster so i set alarms on my phone for certain things like when i need to get things done or when i get off work.

I read and heard many stories of how people can change hair texture and or eye colors to whatever they want with subliminals and affirmations but i simply have not wanted to change my body in those ways besides being invincible, immortal, healthy, wise and or anything else to improve the quality of my life.

At www.spooky2rife.com they have frequencies with proven results from 10 different researchers and they say it is the biggest frequency database in the world. 144.72hz woke me up when i was so tired i couldn't stay awake any longer then i got back to work at full speed, i was about to clock out of work 3 hours early but then found this frequency on that site next to energy and vitality.

I should inform you that the cells in our body can be addicted to anything and that Rockefeller studied how Hitler had control over people and found that fluoride in the water and toothpaste was one way because it calcified the pineal gland, closing up our perception and stifles

Creativity and with 440Hz set as the official standard of tuning for America and Europe. 440Hz is the frequency "Humans are bad and need punishment" so when anyone listen to almost any music then that frequency grows from

inside you like a bubble constantly growing until it meets an opposing frequency because the Mastermind Principle explains how opposing frequencies cannot exist in the same area, so opposing frequencies go to war

until one survives in whatever area, the bubbles probably follow us wherever we go if we created it. So this is why people get so angry because even if they do not listen themselves other people do listen enough that the frequency bubble could be all the way out to Jupiter or Pluto.

So I use Fluoride free toothpaste, aluminum free deodorant, purified drinking water, 24/7 affirmations and the nine Solfeggio Frequencies I also avoid Television or sometimes called "Tell Lie Vision" because it tells you lies. I also avoid listening to music other than the nine Solfeggio Frequencies.

So it is important to learn consciously how to counter balance this problem. The nine solfeggio frequencies, subliminals and affirmations help and also learning to be like water, for example as water flows through life down the river it does not stop before hitting a rock, it simply goes over and or around the rock, practice makes perfect also we need to change the standard of tuning for all music.

I heard once "if you think about nothing then you become nothing." I think that once the affirmation etc becomes permanent then it becomes like your identity so if being immortal is one of your affirmations then it would not matter

if you think about nothing since you are immortal. I've heard of a story I think it only took 4,000 people to meditate on world peace for it to come true all around the world during the meditation but affirmations can do the same!

Please use this knowledge for the greater good of all it helps if you write down affirmations and put it on something you do daily like taping it to the middle of the tv

so you read it daily before watching tv or on a doorknob etc please include "There is peace throughout all time and space now and peace will always be here and everywhere" Please share this message everywhere you can on all social media accounts and in person you can summarize this and or show them this message.

For the disbelievers, not trying to be rude because someone said this to me once I looked up the definition and you should to but they were right so my perspective changed.

You are cynical and you have no right to tell me what you think negatively without doing the work to prove me wrong. I put years into my experimenting with about a hundred affirmations and scientific explanations that's why I

can explain anything and everything in the universe. I'm authentic I can't only believe in anything I hear so I search for proof and then prove it true or not with a variety of ways.

I share the truth. I'm not insulting you but simply informing you of the behavior your displaying. Experience and proof always win rather than thoughts and beliefs.

The frequencies constantly fill up your energy centers but some

are good some are bad like an opera singer break glass with her voice. That energy is probably used for survival first then healing, then perfect health our body knows how

to use the energy then once you have healed up and healthy then the energy fills up faster because it takes less energy to maintain health than to become healthy and then you feel great all the time but you still got to keep listening to the frequencies all day everyday until your

full then I think you can listen to higher frequencies but I haven't got there yet like 10,000 Hz but frequencies research is still happening so make sure whatever you listen

to is beneficial to you and others around you because 10,000 hz hurt my back for months until I realized it was causing the pain probably because I needed to fill up on the nine solfeggio first before upgrading further. Beliefs can make anything reality so anything can be true but I know the highest truth and here I share with you.

I'm giving you the highest truth so now is the time to use this knowledge I offer tested and proven so everyone will be peaceful if I get enough of you to listen, think and or say

these affirmations, "Everyone and everything is immortal, There is peace throughout all time and space, everyone feels unconditional love for everyone and everything, everyone is happy" and more repeat all day everyday for faster

results please, We see life through the lens of our belief so I try to wake people up with a variety of experiments, related famous people quotes, scientific explanations, etc

I'm currently doing 2 more experiments for no sleep affirmations and no food for a month or longer, when I get hungry I simply think, "I don't need food to survive and thrive" about 5-10 times then I'm not hungry again for many

hours then repeat when hungry. If I feel discomfort then I think, "I feel great" about 5-10 times then it becomes true. Beliefs make anything reality, make anything true but belief is harder to control consciously but with affirmations you think or say exactly what you want a few times

then it becomes reality, some things take longer because people around you operate on opposing frequencies. If we have more people think or say the affirmations then the

Faster they come true or possibly might take a few people just to make certain affirmations come true like "everyone is immortal" this affirmation probably has the most people operating on an opposite frequency because even spiritual people believe they are meant to die.

Proof and experience always win rather than thoughts and beliefs. When I first heard about affirmations I didn't believe they would work, I ignored them until I found a video by YouAreCreators called "the secrets of frequency and

vibrations" talking about how the nine solfeggio frequencies cured the worst cancer within 70 days for 16 terminally ill cancer patients which sounded more scientific proven due to me remembering an opera singer breaking glass with her voice so I figured there could be good

and bad frequencies for people to and I was right. YouAreCreators put frequencies with affirmations so I decided I can try both at the same time thinking only frequencies would benefit me but they both gave me many

benefits, every affirmation came true after about 2 and a half weeks listening about 24/7 and I started waking up with

this extremely blissful feeling everyday, super happy, infinite energy, thinking faster, better memory, processing information faster and working like I was on an adrenaline rush all day everyday but before the adrenaline rush only last about 5 minutes a day.

Many experiments feeding rabbits equal amounts of fat makes them 60% fatter except the ones that were getting petted and loved they were healthy. Split a pile of rice in 2 talk negative to one pile then positive to the other overtime positive will look better but negative will be completely black. Or with plants growing, same thing.

How do drugs like marijuana affect my Aura and energies? And how can I recharge or reinvigorate my energies?

This Awareness indicates that this plant, that known as marijuana, is in fact, a teacher plant, that which is known as a plant that can have an effect on one who has ingested it. That this particular plant is seen to create an opening in one’s waking consciousness wherein higher perceptual awareness is activated. Thus, entities may become more psychically and spiritually aware.

That this plant can have the effect upon humans wherein it opens one’s inner consciousness to those higher vibrations and octaves of a divine nature or frequency, often causing one to enter into that cosmic level known as higher self-realization.

This Awareness indicates that entities would benefit greatly in developing a clear understanding of the essence and effects of certain plants, drugs and chemicals. That when the aura is in a weakened state, there is much potential for that which is known as possession or negative thought-form or astral attacks.

That when an entity is in a weakened state, that this is when those attacks mostly occur. Thus, when an entity is ingesting large amounts of that which is known as the teacher plant, that of marijuana, that this particular plant as being that which is least destructive to the entity’s aura.

Wherein, other drugs such as alcohol, may have a more destructive effect on one’s aura, often blasting holes in one’s auric layers, creating even greater weakness and vulnerability to those astral or energetic attacks. That in general, that of alcohol expresses more of a depressant effect whereas, that of marijuana produces that of a more euphoric or positive effect.

This Awareness indicates much of the perceptual effect depends upon each entity’s individual preferences, attitudes, beliefs and purposes in using such plants or drugs. That there are many methods of restoring and to reenergize one’s energies when one chooses to stop using such plants or drugs.

That there is seen the concept of fasting in order to remove such residual chemicals and energies from one’s bodily functions, wherein such herbs as comfrey or chamomile or peppermint are consumed, that this appears to be of a general effect in removing such residual effects. That also lemon juice appears as effective in removing such toxins and poisons.

Technically it's fasting without being hungry if you use Affirmations, I think " I don't need food to survive, I don't need food to thrive, I feel great" between 5-15 times then hunger pains go away, if I repeat more then it lasts longer that I don't need food. I have had no food for 7 days now and I have started noticing that all of my abilities are improving like hearing and feeling better etc.

Hence, the action of fasting is seen wherein one’s cellular structures begin to hunger for that residue, that drug, that plant’s chemical and in that hunger, attempts to open wider and wider in an effort to absorb energy.

Whereby, in that process of yearning and moving towards each other, the old residues remaining within the cells begin to move into the elimination process and out of the bodily functions, creating a cleansing effect. That this can take approximately a few weeks to a few months, depending upon each individual’s personal expressions and habits.

That also there is seen the ingesting of fresh water and the consumption of only proper foods of a healthy nature. That also exercise appears as a form of internal cleansing. That also walking in nature or by large bodies of water may have a beneficial effect upon the entity in need of such cleansing.

This Awareness indicates that another important method of toxin removal is seen as simply restricting one’s intake of this plant and refusing to ingest any amount of it. That this method appears as one of the best methods to removing this plant’s residual waste products from one’s body, this being seen to take an average of 3 weeks to 3 months or longer, depending upon each entity’s daily intake.

That some entities may only need a few weeks of cleansing, while others may need a longer period of time in order to attain that perfect state of health.

I've learned from the best then figured the highest truth out myself through experimenting with all knowledge this world had to offer I literally focused only on self improvement and figuring out all the details piecing all the

pieces together for an all inclusive explanation. Don't act like I couldn't figure out the highest truth just because you didn't discover or experiment like I have. Go big or go home that's my motto. I know 100% what I'm talking about

without a doubt because I was fully dedicated to figuring this out since I barely talk to anyone due to me being shy because my empathic abilities are stronger than most but if you think not then ask some questions I can answer any question with truth.

honestly people worship many things with over 2,000 religions your choice to believe in that caused your experiences from my experience current controlling frequencies change the past and it seems because I was determined to find the highest truth after experimenting then

I found it like that quantum physics picture you sent me explains how I'm right. I experiment to prove what I believe to be true to ensure I have the highest truth, have you read my full message at the top of my facebook page pinned to the top? Not the bio but the top post

We can't rely on anyone to give you all your knowledge or you limit everything about yourself. Use discernment carefully, none have the right to deny the highest truth without putting in the work to prove it true or not using the information from the one who knows the highest truth which is me.

There is ego, basically it's like selfish only cares for what it wants and thinks it's always right because technically it is right because beliefs create reality but knowing beliefs create reality can enlighten you but only if you know it as fact like me. Affirmations make anything reality. Wake up obviously your ego has taken over to be so unknowing about life yet think your truth is the highest truth

Does not matter if they all lie because I have used many methods to prove what I have figured out, have you not read my top pinned facebook post with all my experiments? I only refer to other people, quotes, scientific explanations, etc if it aligns with what I have proven that's why I have insight into things you have never heard of.

I'm a man, we all need to grow our hair out never cutting, trimming or waxing because after 3 years we get all enhanced abilities and they enhance more overtime.

I accidentally grew my hair to long and got all enhanced abilities that's how I figured it out, I was playing soccer every week then one day all my abilities improved double and

it was so cool but I was soaked in sweat had to keep drying my face to protect my eyes using my shirt but then it was soaked and I never ran out of energy it was so cool so that night I was like now I need to cut my hair because it traps heat make me sweaty but then I thought wait maybe

my hair gave me the abilities so I searched google "why should I grow out my hair" and found many experiments by the US army talking about how they were hiring Native American Indian trackers for their unique tracking skills and so the younger ones joined for money but forced to cut

their hair then the army said why did you lose your ability and they said "my dad says we get our power from our hair" so they had 10,000 takes like 10 different types of tests with their hair and they did great on everyone of them.

The army would try sneaking up on them while sleeping and the indians would wake up before danger got close and got away and they did hand to hand combat with the best of the army but due to their faster reaction speed they

beat the army every time and more tests but they got the 2 people with the highest scores to redo every test but one had to cut their hair so they did and after the haircut he scored some of the lowest scores of everyone who took the test and the guy who kept his hair kept his scores really high!

By teaching so many I continue to learn new ways to convince people I'm right except for the stubborn that think they know part or all of the highest truth, if think your

cup is full meaning you think you know the highest truth and don't make room to question your own beliefs then you have accepted a lie blindly.

We have many cups but the cup of knowledge must save room to question everything to find the highest truth

My mom said believe in whatever you want but I have gone to church for a while but I always knew to take religions as a guide yes learn from them but don't be to focused on one religion I've learned from Sevan Bomar who read every religion 3 times but I knew I had to look deeper from all teachers.

My boss once told me I had to stop teaching people while I work so I asked myself later why do I need to teach this anyway (trying to cope with that hard decision) then

right away a voice came in my head and said something like "you need to share the truth for world peace, that's why I created over 330 million species so we can hear all the different healing sounds but now we have separated from nature."

Currently I listen to world peace, immortality, no sleep affirmations in my playlist I made it way shorter to get results faster but I say, "I don't need sleep, water or food" but I still drink some water because I want to mainly focus on no food or sleep due to me sharing my message all day. Also think "I feel great and I am healthy"

It seems we need to focus on only a few affirmations at a time because if you listen to a hundred different affirmations then you only give each a little energy daily which might not be enough to make it true

The difference from being in higher and lower vibrations, some are like I get angry when blah blah but happy when blah so technically they don't operate at the same time so that's how they can both be inside you but in different parts

of the body. This is why we need Aaron Doughty's help to learn how to maintain higher vibrations. That's why I'm no longer angry in times I would get angry, feel peaceful, unconditional love like being able to really trust myself and

the universe it's all good and important because affirmations only work if you say the affirmation like a million times a day instead it's better to learn consciously how to stay on those really high vibrational states of being.

Scientist had a group of people hooked up to machines to measure emotions and had them watch a slide show of random pictures but some were babies or evil related and they found that the brain responded to each picture 8 seconds before they seen it. This shows how the higher self tries to prepare us for the future.

Your higher self basically lives a hundred years all instantly every moment using what knowledge you have at the time but due to this you will experience things that you will eventually understand because you learn about it later in life and believe it to be true later in life.

Bruce Lee said to watch words that is why its called spelling

Think, say and or listen to affirmations subliminals frequencies and mantras for, "I have 100,000 dollars" the more

often you repeat then the faster you get the money.

The energy of "I have 100,000 dollars" will expand outward from you every time you repeat "I have 100,000 dollars" literally mind controlling people to give you money I got 6 people trying to send me money now.

I heard of this experiment they volunteer for that gay people have sex with women but either stay gay or become bisexual so I think it proves gay people are meant to be in the world but I only am attracted to women. Also the only thing repeated twice in the bible is "Ye are gods"

Affirmations subliminals frequencies and or mantras work for everyone because they work with energy. If you change something physical with physical things then the problem will manifest in a different way, it works through subconscious fears.

I did some research though in the library of congress they have 15,000 legit research places send results of marijuana experimenting and they concluded that there are

no negative side effects of marijuana use they said if your pregnant though don't smoke because the babies lungs are still forming so I used to smoke but once I reached enlightenment I realized marijuana has a lower vibration

than enlightenment on David R Hawkins scale somewhere from fear many between til enlightenment so I decided to quit the little use I used to do completely and then after about a week then I started feeling great to rise up to the vibrational level that my knowledge is at.

Aaron Doughty on YouTube helped me reach enlightenment, every vibration has an ego difficult to get past without Aaron Doughty

I could listen to music any kind but I always didn't really like most of it and I later found out why, Hitler also used 440Hz to control people and now it is the official standard

of tuning for America and Europe that frequency basically is "Humans are bad and need punishment" this is why violence is in big cities because many people listen to that and get brainwashed without even knowing it

Just like they claim God has spoken us into existence, Affirmations, subliminals, frequencies and mantras make anything reality, for example, "I am happy" will make you happy once said enough times but if you say, "I want to be happy" then you will simply want to be happy. Basically you get what you say, think, believe, etc.

Remember some affirmations come true faster than others because of the Mastermind principle, for example people don't eat all day long but people do believe all day long that they will not live forever so that's why require no food affirmations will come true faster than I am immortal affirmations.

Some affirmations come true faster than others because people emit frequencies while they operate on them

Since we use energy even when the affirmations are true we should continue the affirmations to keep them true or we will use up all the energy then it is no longer true unless you continue the affirmations

when I say affirmations for example "I am Happy" then I create energy to be happy but the affirmation needs to be repeated enough times within a certain amount of time to continue accumulating enough energy to become true

The only bible verse repeated twice is "Ye Are Gods" we can change anything with Affirmations, subliminals mantras and the nine solfeggio frequencies, I have figured

out how to make anything reality and how the universe works after experimenting with hundreds of Affirmations, subliminals, the mantras and the nine solfeggio frequencies.

There is simply energy and energy can be used anyway we choose, I've used subliminals and mantras to become attractive to make people attracted to me that didn't even notice me for a year but that day everyone was smiling at me,

flirting with me, showing off their best achievements and giving me phone numbers, read my top pinned facebook post and all of my comments on it because I've put years of research and hundreds of experimenting into it even after figuring out how to make anything reality and how the universe works

Loop the video by clicking and holding on it while on the desktop version it will say loop click it then if on it then it shows check mark by the loop option then make it full screen then open up wifi settings to get the looped video to go to small screen so you can do other things on your device while you listen to the subliminals

[simsadventures]

After All: Chapter 11: I’m Good, We’re Good

Summary:Your friendships with Bucky grows every single day, and you couldn’t be happier about it. Even in the bad times. 

Warnings: fluffity fluff, probably some swearing, you know me, nightmares, mentions of PTSD, little angst I guess

Word Count: 3180

A/N: I just wanted to do a friendly episode, full of fluff and sunshine, ‘cause I feel like we all deserve it after the emotional rollercoaster. And then the beginning happened. Well…  What did you guys think? Let me know xx

Series Masterlist __ Masterlist

< Previous Chapter

It’s been a month since Bucky surprised you with the sweet little picnic date outside the compound, and things were getting better and better. You and Bucky started spending more and more time together, to the point where even your colleagues in the lab were beginning to question you about the relationship you two had.

At first, it was fairly easy to tell them off, swearing that it was just a very good friendship, but lately, you weren’t so sure anymore. There was still nothing romantic or sexual going on between the two of you, but the need to deepen the relationship was a constant presence lately.

You still wanted to give yourself a little more time to heal and to see Bucky in a light that you’ve never seen him. Not only was he funny (you already knew that), but he was so gorgeously sweet and kind that it took your breath away sometimes. It was in little things that you saw just how good of a person he really was, no matter what he thought of himself.

Your sleepovers were getting more frequent, and it was getting quite usual that Bucky slept at your place even on workdays, having to run to his own room in the morning to at least change the clothes, so that the team wouldn’t give him too much hell. It still didn’t work, thanks to the cameras installed across the whole compound. Tony found out that Bucky was sneaking out of your room one morning and showed the footage to the entire team. Bucky was blushing so hard he thought his face would catch on fire. There were knowing smirks on all of the faces in front of him, and it was quite useless to try and tell them that it’s not what it looks like. Bucky wished it was, but he didn’t want to push you.

Sam and Steve would make fun of him for days, making smooching noises whenever Bucky was in a hearing distance. They were genuinely acting like two five-year-olds. They even tried it once in front of you, but the cold stare you gave them was one to haunt their dreams, so they shut up quickly and scattered away. You didn’t mind, though. Let people think what they want, as long as you and Bucky know your truth.

You were glad that Bucky spent his nights with you, because a) you were selfish and you just slept better with him cuddling you and b) you knew it was good for him as well. It was something Bucky didn’t talk about often, but you knew that nightmares still haunted him. Back from the time of war, from the first time, HYDRA abducted him and did some experiments on him, but mostly from the time, he would like to erase from his life. The Winter Soldier times. You knew it was a difficult and painful topic for him, so you usually didn’t open it up, unless it directly involved you.

Like the one night. Bucky was comfortably snuggled against your back, his right arm comfortably hanging on your hip. You were deep in your sleep when suddenly a movement startled you awake. You looked around the room, trying to figure out what century it was. When you finally understood that you were home, you looked at the nightstand where your alarm clock was standing and read that it was only 2:28 AM. You couldn’t understand why you’d wake in this unholy hour when you felt your hip being squeezed to the point where it actually hurt.

You look at Bucky to see what was going on and understood immediately. He was still laying on his side, his arm still around you, but this time it was tightly wounded around you, his metal hand opening and closing behind his head. You looked into his face, and although he was still asleep, his face was contorted in a pained expression. His breathing was heavy, filling the silent room with anxiety. You could see that he was having a nightmare, but you had no idea how to wake him up gently. You were well aware of the dangers that might await you, but you couldn’t watch him suffer so.

You ran your fingers across his face, caressing his cheek and jaw, and going back up to his temple. “It’s ok, Bucky. I’m here, we’re at the compound together. You can wake up, Buck. You’re safe.” And all that, just to ensure he wasn’t startled. Well, safe to say you didn’t succeed.  

You didn’t know what woke him exactly, but in one swift movement, you were pushed on your back, your hands pinned above your head, and his metal arm snaking around your neck. Your eyes almost fell out of the sockets, that’s how much pressure he used. You tried not to panic and think. His eyes were open, but you would bet he wasn’t seeing you in front of him. In his mind, you were one of his missions, and you were posing as a threat to his disoriented brain.

You took as deep of a breath as you could, smiled warmly and let your body go lax, letting Bucky know that you were no threat to him. “It’s me, Bucky. Y/N. You know me, baby. Try and wake up and see me. I don’t want to hurt you, I would never hurt you. I care about you, Bucky, just as much as you care about me. Please, baby, wake up.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, both from the stress and the obstacle of a metal arm closing your throat. He blinked a few times as if the mist in front of his eyes was clearing, and when he saw the scene in front of him, he jumped off of you.

He was now panting heavily, his whole body shaking. You coughed a little, trying to regain your normal breathing. You touched your neck and knew that it would bruise in the morning based on how much it hurt. But you put that all aside and crawled towards Bucky, whose eyes were on the sheets now, his arms hugging his body.

You touched his cheek, and he flinched, which made you flinch as well. You weren’t scared of him, but you weren’t sure if he was really awake and if he would listen to you. His eyes saddened even more if it was possible. He made himself believe that you were afraid of him, and he couldn’t believe what he just did.

“I’m dangerous, doll. I’ m-I’m sorry that I put you through that, I won’t ever-“

“Shhh,” you said and despite his protests cradled his face in your arms, and pull him softly towards you, so that your foreheads were touching. He was still breathing as if he ran a marathon, and despite not being enhanced, you could hear his heart beating like a crazy from where you were sitting. “Watch my breath and try and match it, Bucky. Easy. In, out, in, out,-“he didn’t fight you on it and just did what he was told. You breathed with him until you were 100% sure his heart wouldn’t burst out.

But even then, you didn’t let go. His eyes were closed, and his body was still slightly shaking, but you could see that he was getting it all under control. “I’m so sorry, doll. I never meant to hurt you, but I just-“Tears were welling up in your eyes, seeing this strong soldier, this hero so vulnerable in your arms was breaking your heart. You needed to make sure he knew he was safe in your arms and always would be.

“You didn’t hurt me, Bucky. But if you wanna talk about it, I’m here, you know that, right?” He huffed out and dared to pull away a little to check on your neck in the dark room only illuminated by the light of the moon. “Your neck is bruised already, how the hell can you say that I didn’t hurt you?” His sadness and regret were now transforming into anger directed at himself. You quickly grabbed his hand, so that he didn’t have stupid ideas like running away from you.

“It might be bruised, but you know me, I slap my thigh a little harder, and it bruises, it’s no big deal. And before you say anything, it really isn’t. You listened to my voice, and you woke up, so stop blaming yourself for something that you can’t really control.”

He buried his face in your neck and breathed. You let your fingers play with his hair and scratch his scalp because you knew it always calmed him down. “I thought I was back in Russia. I saw the face of one of my trainers, and I just couldn’t hold myself.”

“Was it a memory or wishful thinking?”

“Memory. He was the one putting my body through most of the shit, he would whip me to obedience, that’s why I have some of those little scars on my back. But because I heal so quickly, most of them were gone before our next training. When I got the chance, I killed him. I’m not proud of it, but-“

“Shhh, it’s ok. He hurt you, baby, he deserved to die, and he is lucky you got to him first, ’cause I’d take much longer before I’d sent him to hell.” Bucky chuckled lightly, and you knew that the worst was over. He hugged you tighter, revelling in the feeling of your body against his.

“Don’t you wanna go and have the neck checked? Just in case. I wouldn’t want you to have some permanent damage because of me.” You had to smile at him.

“I’m fine, really, scout’s honour! I’m good, we’re good, you hear me?”

You searched your face, looking for any sign of fear or anxiety created by the closeness between the two of you. “I’m not scared of you, Bucky. Not in this sense. Am I scared you’ll break my heart? Hell yeah. But I know you would never hurt me intentionally. You ain’t getting rid of me that easily.”

He nodded, deep in his thoughts. You kissed his cheek and smiled at him. “It’s still pretty early, or very very late, depends. So how about we steal a few more hours of sleep before we have to face the world?”

—-

You and Bucky slept till 10, and because it was Sunday morning, nobody really gave a shit. You woke up sooner than him, your bladder screaming to be relieved, and when you were washing your hands, your eyes inevitably fell to your neck.

It wasn’t a pretty sight, and you knew that Bucky would be kicking himself for this for weeks. You knew you had to cover it up somehow, and a turtle neck wasn’t an option in 80F. You tried to put some make-up on it, but nothing really worked, and you dreaded the moment Bucky woke up.

You could hear him groaning even before you saw his sleepy eyes and rustled hair. “Morning, Sleeping Beauty. You gotta get up if we want to go out with the other around noon.” You reminded him and looked as if he had to think about what it was that you so desperately wanted to see. And then he remembered and grinned. An amusement park. The team never really had a chance to do anything fun, so an amusement park was a good way to unwind a little.

Bucky smiled at you, but then he caught a glimpse of your neck, and his smile fell. He jumped out of bed, and despite the protests you were voicing quite loudly, he wouldn’t let you get rid of him. He inspected, and you could see the regretful look sneaking back to his beautiful face.

“Stop doing this to yourself, Bucky. I’m fine, really, and I’m gonna wear a scarf or something so that you don’t have to stare at it the whole afternoon.”

“I just hate the fact that it was me who did this to you! I mean, if you showed me your neck, and told me that some motherfucker did this to you, I’d kill him, but like this? I just- I don’t know how to express you my regret about last night. It won’t ever happen again.”

What won’t happen again? You having a PTSD, or you sleeping in my bed? And if I were you, I’d think about your answer for a bit. Because I know about your nightmares and we can make it out together, but if you aren’t ever next to me, then I can’t help you.”

You just wanted Bucky to realise that you didn’t care. Sure, you were scared at the moment, but you knew you could get him out of it, and if not by yourself, that therapy would do the trick.

He unexpectedly hugged you, resting his head on top of yours, caressing the back of your head. “If you think that we can get through it together, then I’m all in, doll. I just hate seeing you in any kind of pain. And I hurt you too much already.”

You shushed him. “I don’t wanna hear any more of this, ok? Let’s enjoy the afternoon, please. You can redeem yourself by winning some flower or a plush toy, think you can do that, Sergeant?”

“You bet your cute ass I can. I’ll win every damn thing there is!

—-

Bucky stayed true to his words, because, naturally, he excelled on all the shooting ranges, so not only did he win multiple roses for you, he also won the ultimate prize of the day, and you were now dragging an almost 6 feel tall bear behind you. The team was so carefree, and you loved the change of environment and could see that it suited them really well.

People raised their eyebrows because of your scar, but nobody dared to ask you. They all probably thought you just had a big-ass hickey that you tried to cover. And you were ok with that. You just wanted Bucky to forget about the night, enjoy the afternoon with his friends and not care about his past for a second.

He, Steve and Sam were currently on a gigantic pendulum ride, which your stomach hated even from the ground. You were sure that if you were to step on that thing, you’d actually die there. Bruce and Tony were on a Pirate Ship, just like the two kids they were. The rest of the team was scattered around the park, and you were patiently waiting on Bucky. You could see that neither of them was that preoccupied with the ride, and they were just chatting.

You rolled your eyes at them. Damn superheroes, they can’t even have fun properly! You thought and laughed to yourself a little. As you were watching the ride, you could see from the corner of your eye, that a guy stood next to you, and that he was trying to be as invisible as he could while he checked you out.

He probably liked what he saw, because out of nowhere, he put a hand in front of your face and waved. It startled you a little, but you smiled at him politely and then diverted your eyes back to the ride. You could see that it was in the last section of its swinging time and that the boys would be getting off any time.

The body probably didn’t get the message, because now he was talking. “Hey, pretty girl. You here alone?” You smiled politely again and shook your head. “Nope, I’m here with my friends actually.”

He was now standing really close to you, and all you wanted to do was roll your eyes at him and make him leave. “Don’t you wanna have the ride of your life?” You frowned a little and gave him a confused look. “Excuse me? No, I don’t think I want that.”

“Haha! I mean, if you don’t want to go on some ride with me, sweetheart?”

You smiled again, but this time even this thick-skulled idiot had to see how forced it was. “No, thank you. I’m waiting for my friends, and we’re about to go on a ride together.” It was only when he touched the small of your back that you scrunched your face and pushed him away. What you didn’t see, was Bucky and his angry face coming your way.

“What’s the problem here? You ok, doll?” Bucky asked worriedly and turned to face the guy, standing between you and the douchebag.

“We’re good, Buck. Let’s go. Some guys just don’t understand that no means no.”

The guy probably knew who Bucky was, and even if he didn’t, Bucky’s posture was intimidating enough, even without prior knowledge. It was when the guy looked over his shoulder and saw Captain American and Falcon standing there, that he understood that he really chose a bad girl to try and push into something. He squeaked his apology and ran away.

“You sure you’re good, Y/N? I could’ve kicked his ass for you.”

“Imma kick your ass if you don’t go to that merry-go-round as you promised!” He chuckled, completely relaxed now that you were in his arms again, and led you to the ride.

“The view’s beautiful, don’t you think?” You gushed, looking at the outlines of New York in front of you. “Yeah, never seen anything prettier,” Bucky whispered right into your ear. When you looked at him, he was staring at you already.

“You’re being cheesy, old man! But thank you.”

“I can’t help, the cheesiness comes out whenever I’m around you. And there’s plenty where that came from.”

You laughed and pecked his cheek. “I think we should have a night full of cheesy one-liners, trying to out-do each other.”

Bucky hugged you tighter and laughed with you. “Oh, you’re on, doll! By the way, can we talk about what you called me when we first woke up today?”

Oh, snap! So he noticed, you thought. You tried to play dumb, even though you knew it was a battle already lost.

“What do you mean, like when I called you Buck? I do that all the time, your memory is leaving this world!”

“Haha, yeah, really funny, smartass. You know exactly what I’m talking about! You called me baby, over and over again.” He was smirking at you stupidly, and you just wanted to slap it away or kiss it away… You weren’t quite sure yet.

“If it bothers you so much, m’Lord, it won’t happen again.” This little commented resulted in Bucky pinching your side, and you smacking his chest.

“I loved it, I could definitely get used to it.” He whispered, his voice suddenly much lower than before.

“We’ll see about that… baby.” You winked at him and got out of the cart because the ride was over. “Wait you, little minx, you just wait!” Bucky yelled and ran to your side.

/ Next Chapter >

After All:

@iheartsebastianstan @readermia​ @kolakube9​ @ibookishqueen​ @thewintersoldierswifu @emogril​ @the-melancholyfeels​ @pinkleopardss​ @supervengerslock​ @the-soulofdevil​ @jessyballet​  @bxrnsfeyson @38leticia @sparkling-gayyyy @deansbbysblog​ @lustgardn​ @wantingtobekorra​ @backflip-into-a-garbage-can​ @thefifthmaraud3r​

Bucky Taglist

@this-kitten-is-smitten @sebbbystaaan​ @paradisiacalsparks​ @crazybutconfidentaf​ @owlyannah​ @lassini​

Marvel Taglist

@waiting4inspiration​ @voltage-my2dlove​ @kneel-begyourpardon​

Forever Tag:

@eileenalone​ @sasbb23​ @p8tn0lish​

If you’d like to be tagged comment/message/send an ask. If you like the story, please reblog :) any comments are appreciated, even the critical ones. Always a space to get better, so let me know what you guys think.

[outroshooky]

whatever in heaven | knj

⇢ genre: series; part three (mafia!au) (angst, fluff, smut)

⇢ pairing: kim namjoon x reader

⇢ word count: 5.8k

⇢ warnings: smut (soft d/s dynamics. grinding, oral [m receiving], brief use of the word daddy, marking, gentler dirty talk [praise]) angst (implied usage and mention of knives, nightmare), some fluff. this fic is a bit of a mind-fuck; there are darker themes here, so please read with caution.

⇢ a/n: i’m so excited for you guys to read the next installment of verses & vibes! a huge, huge thank you to my beta readers @sunkoos​ (go check out nas’s work!) and @hobiswitch​; an even bigger thank you to @guksheart​ for not only beta reading this fic but posting this for me because of laptop difficulties!

...which leads me into, unfortunately, some bad news. my laptop crashed permanently over the weekend and i may have lost all of my files. i’m working to get them back, but this also means i have to buy a new laptop. thus, verses and vibes (and my writing in general) may go on hiatus until i can figure out a way to keep writing and posting new content. more updates forthcoming— for now, enjoy whatever in heaven!

“i know not if i could have borne

 to see thy beauties fade;

 the night that follow’d such a morn

 had worn a deeper shade:

 thy day without a cloud hath pass’d,

 and thou wert lovely to the last,

 extinguish’d, not decay’d;

 as stars that shoot along the sky

 shine brightest as they fall from high.”

⤷ and thou art dead, as young and fair; lord byron (george gordon)

It is always the same in the beginning.

He is kneeling on a concrete floor that goes on as far as he can see, cold and callous against the skin that peeks from the stringy rips in his pajama pants. A single light flickers above his head, murky cream, faded with age. His arms are bound behind his back with braided rope, biting vengeance into his tender wrists. His exhalations wisp pale smoke, rushing from his lips to touch the folded legs of a woman sitting just out of the ring of wired lamplight.

The supports of the chair are metal; he momentarily ponders how her skin isn’t dotted with gooseflesh through the thin fabric of her dress, but her cherry-red heels catch the light in a way that has his breath hitching. Something in him presses to reach out to her but he can’t, straining against his bonds like a feral cat caged. He snarls, a gritting sound in the silence of the warehouse, and she hums something seductive in return.

It is a dark heat that kindles in the pit of Namjoon’s stomach when he realizes he is staring at temptation herself, clothed in cherry pumps and scarlet lipstick. She is the antithesis of everything he should have and yet, yet—

He craves her more and more with every second that goes past. He doesn’t need to see her face to know that she is hauntingly beautiful, a devil crafted from memory, sent from hell to tempt him in all the ways she knew how. The blooming lust in his veins climbs with viney fingers straight to his brain, his head spinning, flying high; he barely knows what to believe. Somehow, she’s pulling on the strings of his thoughts, a marionette and his master dancing on the brink. One wrong string and the puppet collapses in a heap of cloth and kindling.

He groans, the sound of frustration and need echoing on and on in the dim room. She laughs velvet rich, sickeningly sweet. He wishes he could rend the binds from his arms, crawl to her, worship her the way she deserves; he shuffles forward an inch, two—

A plain black combat knife skitters to a stop in front of him, twirling once before coming to rest, just grazing his left kneecap. Resting potential against the crook of his leg, and he sucks in a breath when he feels the chilled edge level against the puckered scar on his knee.

She doesn’t speak, but Namjoon knows exactly what she means to say.

Thoughts clamor at the base of his skull, hissing seduction like a writhing mass of coiled snakes snapping for attention. They strike at one another, seeking dominion, and he’s nearly consumed by the din. A choice, cut out for him by the hands of fate, burned in the ashes of every decision he’s ever made. It boils down to this, to him and her and everything in between.

At one pellucid flicker of insanity, his hands are freed.

The ropes fall frayed to the floor and he straightens, rubbing at the burn in his forearms, rolling his neck to loosen the strain. His eyes flicker to her mass in the darkness, the shape of her just touched by the faintest tendrils of light. She is just out of reach, but so close, so far when her head tilts, a hint of fascination. He is mortal, she is eternal— a man reduced at the end of the day, stripped of money and power and the demons that lick at his heels. Greed is his master, but she is his, coveted in the secrecy of this cushioned nightmare.

He knows though, in the deepest reaches of his twisted soul, that only one of them will leave the warehouse alive.

In this horrible, shattered husk of reality, only one of them is destined to live.

And somehow, the choice has fallen to him.

Pick up the knife. Pick it up, feel it in your hands, smooth and weighted, perfectly balanced. Everything you’ve ever wanted is in the palm of your hands. Make the right choice. Do it for me, baby. For me.

Namjoon is pitted against his own self-preservation, warped desires clamoring for attention, needy yet sick. Needy, he is so fucking needy, but for what? Anticipation itches the back of his neck; he can barely think when the handle melds into the curve of his palm with such a sinful fit. The metal glints promise of things yet to come, but when he tilts the blade towards himself, he sees only the industrial struts that crosshatch the ceiling, the dust that hovers thick in the clogged, choking air. Emptiness and fulfillment, hand in hand, only a breath away.

You know what the answer is, Kim Namjoon. Do it. Do it for me.

Does he know? He must know, deep in the recesses of his bones. Deep inside the fucked-up mind of his, playing tricks on him; a trickster, what trickster? The last of his sanity is threatening to drip, melting like liquid wax onto the cool, callous cement. It’s bubbling in his hands, pouring through the gaps between his fingers, but when he shakes his head, a mad dog, it solidifies molten silver, black titanium.

Do it for me.

Do it for her.

He must.

Namjoon’s eyes flicker to her calf, following the silk of her skin to the hem of her saccharine dress; it flutters scarlet just out of reach. He’s on his knees now; there’s something pulling at him, some indeterminable force dragging him through the floor. The blade slips; the knife twists in his hands as he falls forward, and—

The air rushes out of Namjoon’s lungs as he writhes himself awake, mouth agape in an silent scream. He’s wheezing with the first rush of oxygen into his lungs, his lips swollen with gnashing of teeth as he twists away from the warmth settled next to him in the sea of rippling sheets, curling in on himself.

“Namjoon, are you alright?”

The broken man lifts his head, taking in the naked form upright in bed beside him, hair awry, concern bleeding every word.

It’s you.

He’s safe.

Indeed, Namjoon has had many dreams, but none quite like this one.

It is as if the very breath was sucked from Namjoon’s lungs when he first wrested himself awake in a cold sweat. Control is something he craves, something he owns save the late night hours when it is ripped from his hands by the sick desires of his own brain, playing tricks on him. He exercises his grip on every minutiae of his life, but when his eyes flutter shut and his conscience takes hold, it wraps a silken tie around his thoughts and begs him to pay attention.

You’re calling his name in a voice burdened by drowsiness. He knows you were awoken because of him but he can’t seem to think, to do anything else but sit here in this bed, in these rippling creamy sheets, and feel his lungs fill, empty. Fill, empty.

“Namjoon, love, breathe with me, okay?”

Breathing. Breathing is all he has been reduced to, a creature of the night with oxygen in his lungs and demons in his head.

You take his hand in your own, feels the slim digits trembling against your skin. You rub gentle circles into his knuckles and it somehow grounds him in the midst of the chaos, the overwhelming flood conjured from his worst nightmares. He watches as you carefully trace every crooked angle of his fingers with your own.

It is this simple motion that produces new thoughts, a mental clamor not of his own demise but for his own safety, the protection that he seeks. You are so much more than the sum of your parts: you are safety in the midst of a den of ruby-eyed cobras simply begging for a chance to strike. He’s never thought of anybody the way he thinks of you; there is no one else who comes close to you, and that’s saying a lot when it comes to his line of work.

“Namjoon, you’re safe, okay? You’re safe with me. We’re in our bedroom. You’re still the head of the most feared crime ring in the country. Nothing has changed. Yoongi is just outside the door; I’m right here. Nothing has changed, baby. You’re safe.”

Your words are warm against his skin, dotted with the press of lips to his temple, his cheek. You’re burning up against him, sweat beading at the roots of his hair, the silver strands falling low into his eyes. Somehow, the heat only serves to make him cooler, and he’s nestling into your arms before his mind catches up to his body. He’s safe. Somehow, in the roaring din of his mind, he is safe. His demons won’t follow him here, locked outside the door, palms scrabbling at the windows. The windows. Namjoon’s eyes flick to the glass and find the shades drawn, blocking out the ambient light that hovers thick on the other side. Bulletproof, he insisted, and for good reason. But Yoongi would have called if there was a problem, and he’s got Seokjin at the front gate, and it begins to seep in, sweet relief, that he truly is safe.

He is cradled to you like a child, a position compromising for a man of his stature, but he knows you won’t judge. Your hand trails from his thigh to his hip, his ribs to his shoulders, and your fingers nest in his hair, gently scratching his scalp. Lord knows he won’t be able to close his eyes until daylight breaks over the dark oak floor of your shared bedroom, but he hums and noses at your neck. You smell like sage and lavender with a touch of his own cologne, a memory of last night, and he inhales deeply, tries to savor the muskiness.

“You’re okay baby, I promise.” A kiss to his temple, another grounding touch. “I’m not going anywhere. I love you; you’re safe right here with me. Just let me love you, okay baby?”

Love. Love, a concept Namjoon knew better by verbal parry than by any real, tangible memory. It was wielded by a father he barely knew, an absent mother who preferred the company of socialites to the company of her own son. It was really a wonder he found it in him to love at all, really; he’d assumed he’d leave such an emotion to those who built a life out of a 9-5 day and mediocre sex. He’d been proven wrong, however, when you came along— you, once a high-profile escort in the dirty underworld he’d built for himself, proved yourself a worthy companion when you stayed beyond his guttural moans and dirty secrets. It was in fact, a moment like this when he realized he quite enjoyed your company, and there was something more to it than just a good fuck, an easy pussy.

You were the closest thing to real love he’d ever experienced, a home to come back to that wasn’t a prowling security team and a clean gun barrel. He’d exposed the grittiest parts of himself to you, the most private secrets and still you came back for more. You were just as fucked up as he was, really, and that was his favorite thing about you. You’d killed for him and he knew you’d kill again, and that was, very plainly, the matter of things.

Plus, that mouth made him see the stars more times than he’d willingly brag about at the poker table.

He presses a kiss to your shoulder, exposed through the lip of your shirt (his shirt, actually). It’s a careful kiss, chaste for him. Your fingers rub comfort into the base of his skull and he swears he could purr, an alley cat sleek and pleasured.

“You doing okay, Joonie?” Your eyes tell him everything he needs to know and he nods, unsure if he trusts himself to speak. Fear still gnaws at his bones, muted terror of a red-heeled succubus and a silver blade that gleams in the lamplight. Somehow though, you know, scraping the blunt of your fingernails against his roots. “You don’t have to talk to me about it if you don’t want to. I’m here regardless of that, you know me.”

Namjoon noses the column of your neck in reply, folding his sizeable frame until it molds against yours. Some things he’d never let the boys know about, but some things, he thinks, they knew about already. He is hard and cold and calculated yet soft and warm and comforting, a living contradiction unto himself; you’d never believe it if you hadn’t seen it yourself. A complexity of men who prefers to live by the simplest of rules, but you’d learned long ago not to try to understand something that was fucked-up from the start. Some things in this world were just fucked up, and that was the way they were meant to be.

Neither of you know how long you sit there, adrift in messy sheets, dry eyes gritty with the lateness of the hour. Your hand weaves through Namjoon’s hair as the vines around his heart flex, their thorny stems unraveling. He stopped shaking minutes before, but if you know anything about him, the internal tremors never cease, not outside of the safety of this bedroom, impossible with the life he lives.

He stirs a little, murmurs your name against your neck, his lips brushing bare skin and the small freckle that dots just above your collarbone. There’s something so intimate, so human about it, screaming vulnerability that hangs open and aching in the silence. His hands slide smooth across the breadth of your back, your waist, palms settling atop your thighs as he draws back slowly, slowly.

There’s a question in his eyes, one you meet with your own.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He hesitates.

“Namjoon…”

He swallows, tilts his head, steals a kiss. “I’m sorry.” Then another.

With the third you’re pulling away, chest steady, finger to his lips. “Namjoon, you’re not thinking clearly. We can’t do this right now—”

“Says who?” He is breathless with the thought. “I wanna make you feel good, baby. You deserve that.”

The sweetest words wrap themselves around the breadth of your bones, melting between the gaps. He’s always been so good with his tongue.

“Namjoon, I wanna make you feel good too, but not when you’re like this.” You shake your head. “Not when you’re waking up screaming about death and knives and all sorts of horrible things.”

His hands brush your curves. “If this bed is an ocean, I wanna drown in you.”

“Joonie…”

It’s so easy to work at you, the sharper edges that he can dissect piece by piece. He knows exactly how far to push, what little to say to reel you in hook, line, and sinker. “Just go with it baby, alright? Just trust me.”

It’s easy to fall into Namjoon, collapsing every time as he folds around you. His head tilts to the side as he leans in, his nose brushing your own. He tastes like mint toothpaste and something uniquely him, an element you can never place but when he’s exposing the most vulnerable parts of himself to you like this. His mouth moves easy against yours, just tender lips, warm kisses. His hand smoothes up your spine to cradle your neck, thumb brushing at the nape, the soft hairs that tickle the back of his hand. “Just relax baby, relax.”

Once more. “Joonie, are you sure you’re okay with this?”

He nods. “I want this.”

He’s never been one for kissing but tonight he craves it, the simplicity of two mouths and hands that fit themselves perfectly against the curves and the edges. Musk curls under your nose as your eyelids flutter shut, dusting the apples of your cheeks a pinkish hue. Your hands meet his chest, burning with heat through the oversized Grateful Dead shirt he wears to bed with you, and they slide to his shoulders when he slips an arm underneath you to tug you closer.

You settle atop the apexes of his thighs, legs folding around him as he gazes up at you. The utmost adoration he has for you, written in the stars and in two hearts that beat as one, rattling against their cages with a need for closer, closer, closer. Fear melts underneath practiced fingertips and patience; he’ll be damned if he doesn’t return the favor. His eyes, usually tawny and mellow, burn blacker than charcoal but sweeter than syrup, running with emotion. It’s evident in every brush of his hands against your bare skin when his fingertips edge under the hem of your shorts, the gleam in his eye that warns of everything that is about to come. One hand supports your back as the other squeezes your thigh, and you can’t help but smirk down at him with the easy smile that tugs at his own kiss-bitten lips.

You aren’t smirking, however, when he leans in and nips a bite at your neck, teasing with his teeth, making you whimper and whine atop him. His tongue pokes between his lips, assuaging the pain, and your own mouth falls open as your fingers clench at his shoulders, nails sliding a lazy path along his spine. He licks once at the bite, then once more until he’s satisfied with the petaled violet that blossoms across the breadth of your throat. He nibbles a matching purple rose on the other side; you can feel the smile on his lips when your mouth shamelessly tips open and you stutter out his name.

“Hm, what is it?” When he draws back, you moan a singular complaint. “What do you want, love? I’ll give you anything you want.”

“W-Wanna make you feel good,” you pant, eyes fluttering. “Wanna make you feel so good.”

“I wanna make you feel good too, baby. Let’s just focus on the now, yeah?” Namjoon’s hand squeezes your thigh but you’re already pressing your body flush to his, kneeling over him. You cup his face and he strokes your wrist lightly, the most tentative of touches, thanking god that somehow, in the midst of the lion’s den, you’d found him. He had you and he knew he could trust you, trust the smell of your shampoo and the heat of your skin. “Focus on me.”

You lean down to kiss him, brushing his cheekbones, tangling your hands in his hair, but apparently, Namjoon had other plans. His lips graze your own, trailing the edge of your jaw to pepper the lightest kisses at your ear and move lower, lower. When his mouth lavishes the column of your neck with the utmost pleasure, you can’t help but feel your core ache, the purest whines permeating the thick air as you beg. He’s definitely hard now, weight against the inside of your thigh, and the temptation— no, the need to grind down on him sparked the fuzziest pleasures in your mind, the most sinful ideas.

“Please Joonie, please feels so good, please, w-wanna—”

When Namjoon mouths wet at the shell of your ear you writhe, losing control with each second that slips between your fingers like sand. His lips burn fire against your already heated skin, sizzling and crackling like a live wire under his touch. You hiss and he growls deep in the back of his throat, continues his ministrations.

“I forgot how much you liked that,” he breathes shakily.

“You’re so fucking hot,” you gasp, releasing your iron grasp on his roots. Luckily he’s unfazed; damn lucky you to be with someone who actually enjoyed their fair share of kinkiness. “So fucking hot and you’re so thick, I can feel it—”

When you grind down on him, pressing yourself onto the growing bulge in his slacks and swiveling your hips with practiced ease, he groans feverishly. With every brush of the head of his cock, he’s harder than before, memory weighty in the palm of his hand. He chokes on the breath in his lungs, his nails blunt on your back, and he moans once in content. Feels so fucking good.

“God, baby, you’re gonna ruin me like this,” Namjoon chuckles.

“Maybe that’s the intention,” you trill.

“Fuck.” The word lies heavy in the air, heavy on his bated breath.

You smirk, sinful seduction in his ear. “And what if I did this?”

As his eyebrows furrow, you ease yourself onto his thighs, so strong and sinewy. Your fingertips slip down his shoulders, trace every muscle that strains under his loose sleep shirt. Beneath the fabric is the coiled power of a lethal creature, a tiger poised to devour his prey. And he is utterly wrapped around your finger, letting his head tip back against the headboard with a  sigh. He’s lost in your touches, an angel fallen from heaven, no idea which way is up or down.

You rub circles into his hip bones; he twists under you. Practically begging with his gasps, knowing what awaits him. Your fingers toy with the hem of his boxers and he’s hissing between his teeth. “Baby…”

You hum a response, press a kiss to the shell of his ear.

“Please…”

“Oh Namjoon,” you coo. “You’re a mess, baby.”

He is. Hair sticking to his forehead, sweat gleaming at his temple; he’s a model for destruction, the dirtiest of kinds. Hips arching underneath you, and there’s a wet spot that stains the fabric. He smiles somehow, teeth flashing in the low light. “All for you.”

You withdraw, spit into your palm. “Then you get all of me.”

Your hand slips beneath the waistband of his boxers, finds his cock, thick and hard. At the first stroke, lazy and full, he can’t stop the raspy grunt that leaves his throat. “Shit, baby. Feels so good.” When you lower your head to mouth at him over his sweats he practically writhes, begging, needy. So unlike him, but a welcome change to see him falling apart, falling apart over you. The fabric is soaked with saliva and dotted with a pearl of cum, a carnal work of art.

You rub slowly down his length, thumbing the swollen head leaking his seed. It’s messy and wet and he’s moaning and it’s all worth it, worth it to see him wrecked like this. His balls are heavy in your palm; when your eyes flutter up to meet his, wide and expectant, Namjoon hisses. That sound enough jolts burning heat between your thighs, twisting devilishly in your stomach. “B-Babygirl?”

There’s question in the word, question that makes you pause. You moan against his clothed cock; he chokes on his words.

“Can I make you feel good too?”

A sloppy kiss pressed to his member. “Later, okay? I wanna focus on you right now, Joonie.”

His hand strokes through your hair, flyaway, disheveled. “You’re so good to me. So fucking good—” He chokes on the downstroke, fingers tightening out of reflex. “Want you so bad.”

You press. “How bad? Bad enough to want my mouth?”

“Shit, your mouth,” he whines. “Want your mouth, want you—”

“Joonie,” you murmur.

His heartbeat resounds like gunfire in the ringing silence.

“Lift.”

He lifts his hips as you tug, pulling his sweats down to his thighs, the fabric ridged underneath your perch. His cock falls free, standing slightly crooked against his still-clothed abdomen, rippling with tension. It twitches under the heat of your gaze, steadily seeping liquid bliss, and your mouth waters at the thought. It’s been so long since you took him like this; when it’ll happen again, who’s to say.

You pepper kisses along his thighs just to hear him whimper, feel the predator writhe in his own constraints. His hands burn their own trails along the curves of your body, spreading heat in their wake as you cave to your own desire, slipping a hand between your thighs when you take him in your mouth with practiced ease. He’s firm under your fingertips, lithe and sleek and powerful in all the right ways, but he falls apart when it comes to you, crumbles like rock under the breath of the tidal wave. He grunts sin from between gritted teeth but whines complaint when you pull back to tease, to draw things out. He’s gentle in his touches but firm in his demands, even through the cottony billows of his neediness.

“I-I’m close,” Namjoon stutters, skin crimson from lavished attention. There’s saliva smeared down your chin and tears twinkle liquid starlight on your lashes, but you’ve never felt more electrified, burning up at the seams for him. From the heated confines of your throat you withdraw his cock with a firm touch at the base, his fingers running through your mussed locks.

“Where do you want to cum, baby?”

He squirms. “Fuck. Wherever you’ll take m-me—” He shudders, ribs heaving. Your fallen angel, shattering under your touch. “Oh shit, I’m gonna cum for you, babygirl.”

“Cum for me, angel. Cum for me...” you murmur, gaze level with his own as you wrap your lips around his member.

“Gonna cum for you, fuck—”

“Daddy.”

The cavernous heat of your mouth is a slick warmth, so wet and warm and utterly divine. He loses himself in it, lets himself go, pushing towards that edge of no return, riding the crest of the wave as it rolls faster, harder, heavier. “‘M gonna fucking cum. Oh god, fuck, shit, babygirl, I’m cumming, I’m—”

A drawn out groan fills the air, raspy and thick and throaty as he thrusts into your mouth once, twice, spills over. He’s bitter on your tongue, acrid but you take it, swallow it all. It’s worth it to see the pleasure overtake him, to see him let go of every capacity and capability to fall drowning, dizzy. Whatever in heaven, above or below, he’s tumbling headlong into it, collapsing into himself like a burning star falling from the cosmos.

He’s the first to break the silence that falls, withdrawing himself and tucking his softening cock back in his sweats with a remarkable amount of composition for a man who’d just seen the very sparks of the universe behind closed eyelids. He chuckles breathless, bated. “Fucking hell, angel.”

You try to speak but merely croak at first, throat grating dry. He hushes you soothingly, easing you back on the pillows now soaked with sweat. “Let me get you some water, yeah? Just stay here for now.”

You whine a complaint— shouldn’t you be taking care of him?— but he’s insistent and already on his feet, legs shaky as he heads towards the bathroom. There’s a pang in your chest watching him go, the reality of the situation settling in, and vulnerability flowers in your heart.

The tap squeaks; the faucet runs. Room temperature water, not too hot but not too cold to soothe the burn in your esophagus. He knows you better than anyone, knows how to take care of you when you fail to take care of yourself, life spent always on the run. You’re the one holding him when his nightmares consume him, the steel that he draws from his belt to wield before him, the ultimate weapon. Yin and yang, black and white, blooming nebula and neutron star. The water turns off, a grating complaint.

It’s been too long; you’ve delayed too much. Play to his fantasy; he has no idea what’s coming.

“If the water’s not enough, I can send Yoongi for some tea— oh.”

Oh.

You are no longer prostrate, the limp rag doll exhausted from her play. No, you are stretched out on the bed, ass up on your hands and knees, silver glinting between your teeth as a pair of handcuffs dangles in the air. You are looking at him with fire smouldering deep in your eyes, blazing a burning glare straight through him.

The predator has become the prey.

“Daddy,” you purr, right on cue. “Come here.”

It’s automatic, the way Namjoon moves towards you, glass forgotten on the nearby dresser. He’s completely transfixed, fascinated by the possibilities, and when he reaches the end of the bed, you stop him with one outstretched foot, bare with the lateness of the hour. “Turn around.”

He’s so submissive, so compliant simply by the force of his own surprise. It’s hard to keep going, hard to push through the adrenaline thrumming through your blood, the underlying current that threatens to sweep you away, too. But you mustn’t listen, mustn’t feel.

“Hands behind your back, Joonie, baby.”

He’s perfect, perfectly whole in the way he follows each command that falls from your lips like silk spun thread. He surrenders himself so willingly to you, it stings raw.

You rise to your feet, level with the back of him. Your fingers make quick work of the cuffs and with a firm click, the deed is done.

With a tender motion that surprises even you considering the brevity of the situation, you wrap your arms around your torso, bury your face in his skin, inhale his scent. Amber and citrus. Musk and spice. Whole contradictions that somehow manage to summarize him perfectly. You whisper against his spine like it’s a secret. “I’m so sorry.”

“What, baby?”

You can feel his heartbeat against your cheek, thudding rapid with excitement, wonder at what lies ahead of him. Guilt roars its ugly head and you beat it back with double the force.

You stiffen, step away from him. Four years you’d waited to formulate these words, to hear them drop from your lips, plummeting on high. Four years and now the moment is here, and you swallow past the lump in your sore throat.

“Kim Namjoon, you are under arrest for charges of extortion, murder, murder-for-hire, drug possession, and arms trafficking. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you…”

“...Do you understand the rights I have just read to you? With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?”

You’re sitting in the open door of a police cruiser, more specifically a SWAT cruiser, an aluminum blanket wrapped around your bare shoulders. The air is warm, but you can’t stop shivering.

Seokjin paces fifteen feet away from you, ever more handsome in his suit and tie. Hoseok is finishing his interview of the conclusion, anticlimactic for the better. Yoongi’s legs dangle from the open doors of one of the ambulances called when your colleagues expected the worst. Thankfully, no casualties had occurred but a sprained ankle, a fight between one of your fellow law enforcement officers and that guy that manned the back gate. Everyone can go home, rest easy.

After Seokjin’s interview is yours, and you realize by the time Hoseok is asking the last question that you don’t remember a single word of what you’ve said. Elite agents taking down the biggest crime boss in the country are not supposed to feel so empathetic, so broken. Guilty. Regretful.

Four years, the longest and most dramatic chase of your career. Justice fell, a swift hammer; you’d saved the day once again, added another face to the chalkboard in your sterile office a thousand miles away. You’d won. Hadn’t you?

There’s a faraway look in your eyes that Hoseok somehow understands, a glimmer of something more than success. He straddles the age gap between the members of the team, incorporating Jeongguk’s youthfulness with his elders’ experience, the glue of it all handed the most important task. He calls your name. “You’ve been out of it the entire time I’ve been interviewing you. What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing.”

But there’s no bite to the words, no whet of passion. They fall flat below the crackle of radios, the mist that reflects red and blue through the evergreen trees scraping the stars winking high above.

Hoseok puts his pen and clipboard aside. “Hey,” he says. The kindness in his tone pierces daggers through your heart. You somehow would’ve been more comfortable if he had yelled at you. “You did the right thing. He hurt a lot of people. Killed many more, and did so without remorse.”

That’s what you think, you want to scream. Because to you, he is some foreign criminal, far removed from any last dregs of humanity. He is a monster and a crook and a fiend, twisted into something unrecognizable, but you didn’t see what I saw. Did you see the warmth in his eyes when he rolled over and buried himself in my arms all those mornings in bed? Did you see the way he saved those dogs about to be euthanized in a shelter, because those pups reminded him of how he used to feel, staring death in the eyes every day? Did you see the way he loved me?

Hoseok pats your shoulder. “I’ll put in a month and a half of vacation time for you when we get home. Lord knows you’ve earned it. And we can rest tonight, rest for the first time in a while. We’ve got a nice hotel an hour away from here, top floor. We’re not done flushing out the rest of his boys, but that can wait for now. We can handle that on our own; they’re scattered all over the continent anyways. It’ll take time.” He picks up his supplies, turns to move on to Yoongi. The look in the elder man’s eyes, the special ops agent thinks, is exactly the same as your own. What had you two seen in that hellhole?

You tuck the blanket tighter around yourself and nod once. It’s the most you can do.

Hoseok smiles, but it’s not quite the beaming, sunshine-filled glow he usually carries about himself. “You did good work and I’m proud of you. Get some sleep, agent.”

Sleep does not come for a long, long time.

When it does, it eats away behind your eyelids, filling your mind with visions of a man adrift in an ocean of bedsheets, rocking on the waves of an endless concrete floor that goes for miles and miles, whispering promises of things to come that never would be.

Kim Namjoon is sentenced to life in prison for six counts of murder, fifteen counts of extortion, three counts of murder-for-hire, six counts of drug trafficking, three counts of arms trafficking, and two counts of drug possession.

He never makes it to see his twenty-sixth birthday.

[etherealwaifgoddess]

What He Wants (Pt. 3)

Main Characters: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced Reader

Summary:  On going series of Bucky getting his shit together and falling in love with you.

Warnings/ Content: Still angsty but with more cursing. Don’t judge our boy, he’s still grieving. 

Word Count: 1710

Author’s Note: Ya’ll thought you were only getting one installment today, didn’t you? Nope! Your girl was busy editing yesterday (thank god for coffee) and I wanted to get up as much as possible. This is a long part but I couldn’t really find a better stopping point. This part has a major tone shift as we are now introduced to our other main character.... YOU! 

If you missed it, check out parts One and Two

XOXO - Ash

What He Wants, Pt. 3

Bucky is met with eager smiles and admiration by the three men and one woman who wanted to shake the hand of what one dark haired man calls “a real American hero”. Bucky cringes at his word choice but forces himself to shake their hands. You sit up straighter on the sofa but don’t move to gaggle around him like the other four agents. You don’t look like an agent, Bucky thinks, you looked college kid. You are wearing a baggy University of Penn hoodie and thin grey leggings, your long curly hair sitting on top of your head in a messy bun. Bucky’s eyes trail over the soft, rounded curves of your body, thinking that you were just the type of girl he would have tried to chat up 80 years ago. Your eyes though, that piercing gaze, locked in on Bucky’s the second he entered the room like he was a puzzle you couldn’t quite figure out. Suddenly, a pressure builds in Bucky’s head almost like the early signs of one of his headaches but not as painful. You let out a harsh gasp and double over, eyes blazing at him as agony floods your senses. Just as quickly the pressure is gone and Bucky has a sinking feeling it was related to your outburst. 

“What the fuck was that?” Bucky demands harshly. 

“Minerva, play nice.” Michaels warns you. 

“Were you in my fucking head?” Bucky is beyond anger as he storms across the room to you. You are no longer staring at him with curiosity, it has morphed to fear and pain but it doesn’t deter him. In that moment as he crosses the room Bucky doesn’t care how beautiful you are, or how scared and hurt you look, staring up at him with those large, doe eyes. All he knows is that he spent too many decades having his brain poked at by other people to let it happen again. He lashes out his metal hand, pressing you down by your sternum onto the sofa, “Do you know what happened to the last people who fucked around in my head?” 

The other agents scramble to pull Bucky off of you as you struggle for air. Your small squeak of “yes” startles him so much he recoils, gaining control of himself briefly. Flashes from him are coming rapid fire as he towers over you, in your agitated state you can’t control things as well as you normally would. Everything coming from him is a scrambled mess of agony, terror, rage, and hate. Surprisingly, none of the emotions are aimed at you, they’re all aimed towards the man himself. You stare at him, trying desperately to control your breathing, wondering how he can function with all those awful things flying around his head. 

“Then stay the fuck out.” He hisses before walking back over to Michaels “Just show me to my room and keep that one away from me if you want her to keep breathing.” 

Michaels grimaces but leads Bucky down the maze of hallways to his quarters.

“She doesn’t always mean to do it.” Michaels says by way of explanation. “She’s well trained but sometimes she doesn’t have control over when it happens. Look, the mission itself won’t take more than a few hours if we’re lucky, and then you can be on your way. Please do your best to work with Minnie, she really is one of our best agents.”

Bucky wants to laugh at their nickname for you, Minnie is not a name he would have thought suitable for an agent of your caliber. He has no intention of going near you again but he is comforted by the loyalty and confidence Michaels has in you. 

When Michaels storms back in the common room you cringe. It had been a mistake trying to peek behind the curtain of the Winter Soldier’s mind but you had started poking around before you had even realized what you were doing. Michaels joins you on the sofa, sighing heavily. “You really know how to make friends, Minnie.” He grumbles at you. 

A lump forms in your throat, you hate letting him down. Michaels had been your first handler at SHIELD after your life had gone to hell and after everything you’d been through, you thought of him as a surrogate father. “Sorry, Michaels.” You say quietly, “I didn’t mean to at first and then there was this buzzing, like static, and I just wanted to know what was behind it. I’ve never seen anything like that before in my life.”

“It’s best to just leave that one alone. I was shocked as shit he agreed to come out and help us, it would be good we don’t burn our bridges right off the bat.” 

“I’ll apologize to him later. Make it a little easier to work with him tomorrow.” 

“You don’t go near that man, Minnie. I mean it. He’s a professional, tomorrow will be fine. I don’t want to risk you pissing him off more.” 

“Okay,” you tell him, only partly agreeing. You grab your book from the coffee table. “I’m gonna go read in my room for a bit. It’s quieter.”

Michaels nods and lets you go without any further warnings. He knows things can get a little loud for you when there were too many people around and sometimes you just need some peace. It’s an unfortunate side effect of your ability, sometimes you can't shut it off completely even when you want to. You collapse on your stiff metal bed, enjoying the quietness of your room despite how bare it is. You miss your apartment on the farm back home. It’s a tiny, outdated apartment above a barn that was currently home to a herd of sheep. You had needed the isolation after the incident that left you able to enter other people's minds. 

Eleven years ago you had been a bright eyed college kid getting to see New York City for the first time. You had one year of college left and then you would be graduating with your bachelors in psychology. The trip to NYC had been a last minute decision by your best friend to celebrate surviving finals. You were eating lunch in the park when the attack happened. Before you could get to safety, the Chitauri had flooded the park destroying everything in their path. You ran as fast as your legs could go, clinging to your best friend’s hand. You weren’t fast enough though and your arm jerked back as a creature split your best friend in two right before your eyes. The glowing sword like object in his hand swiped at you, lancing your arm open before an explosion knocked you apart. 

You had woken up hours later in a holly bush, your body covered in cuts and bruised beyond belief. The cut on your arm had already healed into a thin red scar but the noise was what concerned you the most. It was like being inside a stadium with everyone shouting at once. Luckily a SHIELD agent had found you and you blubbered to him that your friend was killed and you were attacked and now everything was screaming. You had heard his thoughts, that you were just another crazy person, and you cried to him that you weren’t. He had realized you heard the thoughts he hadn’t spoken and decided to take you back to headquarters. 

Director Fury had put you through a battery of testing and you had started to regret agreeing to them by the end. You spent weeks being tested like a lab ran until they had a plan in place to help you learn to control your ability. It had taken almost a year of hard work but you were finally able to return to a semi normal life. SHIELD was happy to accept you as an agent, though a freelance one. You took a few jobs here and there to cover your bills and pay off your student loans. You never got around to finishing your degree but had eventually saved up enough money to live comfortably. The farm had been a godsend. Cities were just too much for your senses anymore and you found refuge and a home on a little farm two hours outside Philadelphia in the backwoods of rural Pennsylvania. It was quiet and peaceful in a way you hadn't been able to enjoy since the incident. You knew you couldn’t hide there forever but part of you hoped you could. And you had, until Michaels had called with a high risk, but important mission. 

The mission in Somalia was enough to set you up for a lifetime if it was successful. You would be permanently retired after this one, no more running around playing super hero. It was mostly surveillance, reading people to know who was the bad guy and where the girls were being held, but it was also partly mercenary which you hated more than anything. There was a dark side to your ability that you tried your best not to think of, but which haunted you in the long hours of the night when you couldn’t sleep. If you wanted to you could do more than just witness people’s memories, you could manifest them. Even manipulate them if needed. You could reach into a murderer’s mind and bring up everything awful memory he had and make him think he was reliving them all over again one after another until they died from the agony, their hearts giving out under the stress. It wasn’t something you did often but the few times you had it left you cold inside for a long time after. Michaels knew you hated it, but in this case the men you were going after deserved no less cruel fate. You spent every day not on a mission trying to atone to whatever deity would care by using your ability to help trauma victims and returning soldiers deal with their emotional scars. You helped them focus their minds on the positive memories and in some cases had helped people move past their long buried trauma by working through what had really happened. It was exhausting work but you loved it. 

~~~ Okay that’s all for today lovelies! Hope you enjoyed! ~~~

[soveryanon]

Reviewing time for MAG144!

- I’m… really fond of the statement’s atmosphere, and Martin’s reading of it: he did emphasise a few words right at the beginning, giving them more heaviness, bloating them and completely installing the crushing dragging feeling of decay/dullness/spleen/boredom and degradation.

(And then: nervous laughter about the fact that OOOOOOOOOOOOOPS, the statement itself might have reminded Martin of some elements of his own personal life, uh. Caring for a sick (unsupportive) parent, getting stuck in a situation with them but worrying anyway (+ Gary Boylan feared that he would become his father and… well, We Know That Martin Looks Like His Dad), until the parent died on them while they were getting involved with Spooks.)

- So. There was a big emphasis, in the statement, about the code itself, and the fact that what lay behind was the actually horrifying things… but there was still a “message” and things actually struck when Gary Boyle understood it.

(MAG144, Gary Boylan) “I didn’t return to the pylon for a long time, except to confirm that the numbers weren’t changing between days. I had them though, and the numbers were all that mattered. I didn’t know why. I’m sure there wasn’t a reason, not really, but… I knew it was in there…! Realistically, it would be impossible to decode it without whatever key the cipher might have been using – and honestly, for the longest time, it seemed to be. I did as much reading as I could on cryptography, and codebreaking, and all of it seemed to point me towards one simple conclusion: breaking this code by myself was… simply impossible. But I still tried. I spent weeks in my room, desperately applying every method I had available. Nothing worked. But I didn’t stop. The alternative was looking after my dad, whose recent breathing issues had left him more ratty than ever. So, I worked myself into exhaustion instead, staring at those meaningless strings of numbers until I almost collapsed, and my eyes couldn’t focus on anything. And that was when I realised: it wasn’t the numbers. It wasn’t the code. It’s what was behind the numbers, shifting, and waiting, and–and coming towards me like a tidal wave – and I knew what the message was, the urgent and terrible message. About the destruction that was coming on the heels of mankind; about the cold and cruel warmongers who play their games of code, and conspiracy, hidden behind the endless streams of numbers. And within those numbers are all of our dooms. If you know how to read them. And I read them. I read them all, and saw the doom of everyone who lives, and breathes, and hopes for life and happiness. There are terrible things coming. Things that if we knew of them, would leave us weak, and trembling, with shuddering terror at the knowledge that they are coming for all of us. We all made them, and their course is already plotted. You can see them in the numbers. If you’d only learn how to read them.”

I wonder: did Gary himself power The Extinction (or whatever it is) with his own fears? Because it’s when he understood that a disaster was meant to happen that it… happened. If he had just carried on with his life, would it have happened? Or was everything set into motion because he heard the words and spiralled into dread/doom?

Because… if the code was, in the end, relevant and important… I’m kind of super-glad that MARTIN read this statement; and there is someone who should probably not read it ever. Because, who is canonically good at breaking down codes (probably through insta-translating Beholding abilities)…?

(MAG126) ARCHIVIST: … I remembered Gertrude’s notebook; we found it alongside the plastic explosives, but it rather got lost amongst the business of… [SIGH] saving the world at the cost of two lives… It… it’s borderline incomprehensible, not because of any code or cypher – there’s every chance I could read those; just simply because… most of it is… numbers or fragments of sentences that would no doubt mean something to her, but… well, not to me.

… Like, OOPS. I’m not sure it was a coincidence.

(…………. And if Martin read the numbers himself… will he be okay. Or is he unleashing… something, without being aware of it, too.)

- Aaaand we live in such a fandom that someone had already managed to decode the thing in half a day! The numbers:

593756 3058392846 4749 162830165049 564846474827

Actually formed the message “The World Is Always Ending”. Indeed less… personal than The End, here. (But the message itself is kind of… comforting? I mean, it’s like life overall: you know something is living because it’s heading towards its death. Of course the World/the Earth isn’t supposed to be permanent…? Or is it linked to the consciousness that we’re accelerating its decay, or that it absolutely disappearing would mean making things disappear as concepts, too – nobody, nothing, to remember anything, that anyone ever existed in the first place…?)

(- Amusingly, I did think of Beholding with Gary’s whole… stance:

(MAG144, Gary Boylan) “There was nothing to be done, nowhere to go – just watch, and wait, and think about the decay of it all.

And the fact that his main activity was to listen to the numbers. He kind of checked all three points of the Institute’s motto?

And why did he give his statement? It’s not always the case but, pretty often, statement-givers do explain why they wanted to share their stories – because they were seeking help, or pursued, or feared that they were suffering from hallucinations, etc. Here, it was as a… non-personal warning? But he spread the numbers and that doesn’t sound very good…)

- Gary did warn about the Danger of knowing (because it doesn’t help) but. But Beholding’s shtick is apparently also to cannibalise other Fears a bit by Knowing about them:

(MAG144, Gary Boylan) “There are terrible things coming. Things that if we knew of them, would leave us weak, and trembling, with shuddering terror at the knowledge that they are coming for all of us. We all made them, and their course is already plotted.”

(MAG032, Jane Prentiss) “There is no right word because for all your Institute and ignorance may laud the power of the word, it cannot even stretch to fully capture what I feel in my bones. What possible recourse could there be for me in your books and files and libraries except more useless ink and dying letters? I see now why The Hive hates you. You can see it and log it and note its every detail but you can never understand it. You rob it of its fear even though your weak words have no right to do so.”

Is that why Peter needed a Beholding-touched person? Because Beholding could understand the new fear and depower it a bit…?

- I did my usual relisten of “Binary”, since we got new information about The Extinction, and I’m still at a loss for that one and not… really feeling that it fits The Extinction? It feels more personal, more… people-oriented than concerning a community/the world? Or was the “message” of that one in the symbols appearing on Tessa’s computer and/or about the danger of Sergei’s fate possibly happening to others…? In Jon’s dreams, she’s seen typing furiously, trying to “fight” against the computer:

(MAG120) ELIAS: The Archivist waits, expecting to awaken, but there is nowhere for him to awaken to; no avenue of escape from these dreams. He turns to see the familiar screen, the familiar woman beneath it. She looks up at him with an expression of recognition and weary dread. She types, and types, and types her fingers a blur, flying across the keyboard, and yet never fast enough to outrun the relentless words that flow like dark water across the screen that stretches off into the sky. “It hurts.” She is shaking her head, defiant in her well-worn terror, and tries with every corner of her will to force back the rolling tide of words. “It hurts.”

Tessa’s reasoning about how a human brain isn’t made to fit in a computer, and that analog and digital operate differently, could fit The Extinction… but not the spooks she experienced herself, I feel? Was that just plain old regular Spiral, or something Web/Beholding, or The End? Or was it truly Extinction/the same larger fear that encompasses it?

- If we take “Binary” into account, there has been an acceleration of the manifestation of the Extinction through time:

* End of 1867: Garland Hillier disappears after a last publication, “Les Héritiers”, the same year Robert Smirke died (MAG134). [* 1983: According to the urban legend, Sergei Ushanka, who was dying, tried to upload his mind into a computer (MAG065).] * Some time before late 2005 (which is when Adelard Dekker heard about her): Bernadette Delcour entered Garland Hillier’s flat and witnessed the world of the Inheritors before managing to get out – Adelard suspects that she might have disappeared too, by January 2006 (MAG134). * In August 2009: Gary Boylan heard the “Numbers” track near a pylon somewhere in the English countryside; his father and neighbour were eradicated (MAG144). * Around 2012: Adelard didn’t think that The Extinction had begun to take Avatars yet (MAG113). [* Before January 7th 2017: Tessa Winters downloaded a program named “ushankasdespair.exe”, which forced her to watch him swallow his computer for 17 hours (MAG065).]

So, indeed giving the feeling that… something is getting closer and closer.

- Something that MAG134 and MAG144 have in common: the fact that the manifestations were linked to a form of communication (Garland’s diary and overall works, the numbers heard by Gary), in specific places (Garland’s flat, the pylon in Gary’s countryside), places that were specifically described as… frozen in time / unmoving compared to the world around them:

(MAG134, Adelard Dekker) “On the fifth floor of an apartment building on the rue Lagarde, near the Panthéon, some construction workers had uncovered a door, that had at some point in the past been completely plastered over. Removing the covering and breaking through the old wood revealed another apartment, one apparently unnoticed by any of the other residents, or indeed the owners of those sections of the building, each of which had assumed the space was owned by one of the others, and connected to a different part. As far as anyone was able to determine, the apartment had been sitting there, sealed and undisturbed, for almost a hundred and fifty years. It was untouched, pristine, with barely a thin layer of fine dust coating the possessions and belongings that had stayed there for so long. […] The place felt strange, she told me. Like a tiny pocket of another time. A bubble, where the world had never changed. And stepping inside, she almost felt like she would never change either. Even the light that came through the window seemed to be of a different quality, muted and gentle. The street chatter of Paris, which usually reaches all but the most remote of windows, seemed to vanish entirely. There was a sense of peace to it all, shot through with a strand of disquiet – a wrongness, she told me she could not identify, but she could almost smell it. […] Every single shrivelled ashened face was contorted in a scream of agony, every sharp and jutting jaw cracked and twisted in an expression of horror – of understanding not just of their death, but the end of everything they knew. It was clear that they had been this way for years, if not decades. Bernadette says she was sure that nothing had moved in that dead city for a hundred years.”

(MAG144, Gary Boylan) “Something kept me rooted there, sleeping in a bedroom that hadn’t changed since I was fifteen, and caring for a man who I’d rather just shut up…! [SIGH] We were both… trapped there, I think. Bound together in a sort of wordless misery. I would look at him, and see a grim sort of destiny for myself: trapped here, until I became him – any future I might have had, sacrificed to his. […] That summer seemed to drag on forever. The boredom and irritation of trying to care for my dad was only heightened by the weather, and we were both feeling it. Just didn’t have anything to do…! I don’t… really want to go into my living situation here, but it’s enough to say I wasn’t working a regular job and, while I could theoretically contact my old mates, they’d all got on with their lives without me. The world had moved on. … I was left behind.”

Places/people that feel like they can’t change or move forwards, while everything else does. (And we’ve had so many talks about people “changing” this season… Mmmmm…)

Note to self that with the beginning of the statement, I did wonder if it wasn’t Something Lonely – we were dealing with isolated places, the statement-giver was spending a lot of time alone and wasn’t… really connected to anybody, there was “the huge metal skeleton of an old disconnected power pylon” in the background – pylon which turned out to be the place where the numbers could be heard… So, mmmm… Why is Peter, avatar of The Lonely, specifically so invested in stopping that newcomer…?

- Outside of the RQ-extended-universe crossover inside-joke about “DOOOM”, I feel like Gary Boylan’s use of the word might be especially relevant because… he specifically differentiated it from “dread”.

(MAG144, Gary Boylan) “Do you know that one of the symptoms of a heart attack is literally a sense of impending doom? [INHALE] Well, I wasn’t having a heart attack, but I think I know what they mean…! What settled over me wasn’t dread; there wasn’t enough uncertainty for that. No. It was… doom. I was certain that some sort of disaster was on the horizon. […] And within those numbers are all of our dooms. If you know how to read them.”

… and “dread” was the word that Robert Smirke personally used to refer to the Fears:

(MAG138, Robert Smirke) “I have been blessed with a long life, something few who crossed paths with the Dread Powers can boast, but now… at the end of it, my true fear is that I have wasted it, chasing an impossible dream. […] I have been thinking, of late, about the first origin of the Dread Powers, if… such beings can really be said to have true origins. Are they eternal, or are they created from our own fear, by some grand accident – or, worse: some grand design? I believe the latter to be the case, as you well know, for I have in vain struggled to reconcile their creation with the existence of a Loving God.”

It's possible that Smirke’s vocabulary was… too restrictive, but I do wonder if… in context, it isn’t hinting that The Extinction-or-whatever-it-is isn’t actually a Fifteenth Fear, but something operating too differently from the others…?

- I’ll never get tired of Martin’s… little troubles when introducing statements – it never goes smoothly, he marks small pauses, has troubles reading the numbers, etc., compared to Jon’s… seamless professional voice (… except when some of his emotions are showing: sometimes impatience, sometimes… listen, when he introduced the statement in MAG129? He was still brooding SO MUCH after the disaster of a conversation he had had with Martin shortly before). In the same way, I… love how Martin’s own speculation is so awkward and potentially off the mark afterwards? Reminder that Martin barely remembered the name “Maxwell Rayner” in MAG098, and he sounded SO PROUD in MAG110 when he was able to guess that The Spooky Book Mentioned Had Probably Been A Leitner (“I mean… I think it sounds like a Jurgen Leitner book. About spiders. Hm.” mARTIN that was an easy guess… x””D); and in the same way, his conclusions in MAG138 were… a bit awkward compared to the content of the statement:

(MAG134) MARTIN: Anyway. Smirke was clearly wrong about the powers balancing each other, at least. I mean, i–it’s, [SHORT LAUGHTER] it’s obviously impossible. There’s too much variation in, in how much something is feared by people at any one time. And, and if that’s the case, I… suppose it’s… not impossible that Peter… [LONG PAUSE] might be telling the truth. I don’t know what he’s talking about when he mentions Millbank. The old prison, I guess? Tim said the tunnels under the Institute were all that was left of it, but… Jon said he’d checked them pretty thoroughly. 

(M… Martin, what “other Millbank” do you think it could be, given the discussions/researches in the Archives………………….) To his credit, he was trying to guess why Peter had given him this statement, so he had a certain Way Of Looking At Things, but. Still. Smirke’s statement wasn’t really about the “variations” of how people experience fear(s)…? And in the same way:

(MAG144) MARTIN: Statement ends. [CLEARS THROAT] [INHALE, EXHALE] … Right. Another… statement. Another side to… Peter’s “Extinction”. I think. I… Y– I– [HUFF] I, I couldn’t follow some of his reasoning, but I think it was about… nuclear weapons, or… or maybe doomsday’s weapons…? In keeping with the theme, I suppose.

Martin miiight be paying too much attention to concreteness and things he Already Knows, and failing hard to essentialise and theorise…? Obviously, yes, the symptoms evoke the destruction caused by nuclear weapons, both in MAG134 and MAG144 (destruction, corpses melting/being absolutely blasted), but the Fear itself… is something broader, probably? (So: is he accidentally absolutely spot-on? Or totally off the mark, and the fact that he went with “nuclear weapons” mean it isn’t this, at all?)

- ;; It has been a constant in season 4 when we have Martin’s statements and Jon’s statements: they… would both progress much better if they had access to each other’s statement.

MAG134’s (Smirke’s letter to Jonah) would have helped Jon to define a bit more Jonah’s whole character, after MAG127, and potentially retrace what happened to him – Jon labelled him as already “evil” in the 1830s, but turned out that he had apparently taken a step back, before falling deeper into Beholding shortly before 1867, apparently because he was afraid to die (… does that remind you of something, Jon?). Plus, indication towards the Watcher’s Crown. Meanwhile, Jon… learned that Adelard had helped Gertrude to stop The Flesh’s ritual in 2008, and could have pointed out a few old statements: MAG078 where Adelard tried to trap the Not!Them with the table and, more importantly, MAG113 where Adelard mistook an End avatar for an Extinction thing (… and we’re still not sure What The Heck  “Binary” was, but Jon could have pointed to MAG065… in case Tessa’s experience was related). And Jon could maybe just Know a few things, and help overall.

But they don’t communicate, they’re in their own bubbles, and information isn’t getting shared right now. (Though Martin was planning to communicate his tapes to Jon… MAG138, especially, could be helpful to deal with the Institute on its own…)

- I love Jon’s reading, alright, and I love Martin’s too for different reasons. He tends to put more emphasis in words, bloating some here and there? He gets so nasal sometimes? So casually sassy? Jon often has an edge, but Martin… Martin feels Less Charitable in his delivery and I love it. AND I ESPECIALLY LOVED:

(MAG144, Gary Boylan) “Something kept me rooted there, sleeping in a bedroom that hadn’t changed since I was fifteen, and caring for a man who I’d rather just shut up…!”

That. That “Shut up!” was so Beautiful And Martin.

- I’M SO EMOTIONAL OVER THE FACT THAT DAISY AND MARTIN ARE BECOMING KINDA FRIENDS WITH MAG142 AND MAG144… and then kinda nop. But the fact that Daisy was comfortable enough to come back, to share with Jon that she had talked with Martin, and that she wanted to give information about him (/them) to Martin in return… ;w;

(MAG144) [KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.] MARTIN: [SHORT SHAKY INHALE] [SILENCE] [KNOCK–KNOCK–KNOCK] MARTIN: [RUFFLING PAPER] Come in. [DOOR OPENS.] DAISY: Mind if I join you? [SCRIBBLING SOUNDS START.] [DOOR CLOSES] DAISY: They’re back. I thought you might wanna know. [INHALE] Seems like it went smooth – too smooth for Basira, sounds like. Keeps looking at Jon like she can’t believe he made it back. [SILENCE] I, uh… I mentioned our conversation to him; he asked me to check on– MARTIN: Just leave. DAISY: Sorry? MARTIN: [INHALE] Get out. DAISY: Oh. Right. Sorry, I didn’t– MARTIN: It’s not difficult! Just get out! DAISY: Fine. … Fine. Just thought you– MARTIN: No! No, you didn’t! [DOOR OPENS.] We’re not… we’re not friends, Daisy! None of us are! We’re all just trapped together, here, and–and kidding ourselves that we don’t hate it! Christ, there are more important things than, than “feelings”– DAISY: [INCREDULOUS EXHALE] MARTIN: –right now, alright, so just… leave me alone! For good! [SILENCE PUNCTUATED BY AGGRESSIVE SCRIBBLING NOISES] DAISY: … Right. You got it. [DOOR CLOSES]

The things Martin said… were very reminiscent of Tim’s own reasoning (and the overall idea that Tim… did feel trapped, and insisted on it, and was adamant about reminding everyone of that fact):

(MAG079) TIM: There is something in this place, and it’s messing up our heads. It watches us all the time. It stops me quitting. I’m pretty sure it would stop Elias firing Jon even if he decided to actually try running this place for once. MARTIN: You’re sure you don’t just want to stay? TIM: I’m. sure. MARTIN: But, like, deep down– TIM: No. MARTIN: … Oh. […] TIM: I… I’m not just going to leave you down here. MARTIN: You were all about quitting. TIM: Oh, for God’s sake, this isn’t about you. MARTIN: It never is. TIM: Alright, fine. Fine. What do you want? What’s your light at the end of these spooky damn tunnels? And don’t say “everyone happy forever”, because that’s not happening. … Well? MARTIN: I don’t know. I don’t know! I want to find out what’s going on. I want to save Jon. I want everyone to be fine and, you know what? If we were all happy that wouldn’t actually be the end of the world!

(MAG102) ARCHIVIST: Does the rest of the Institute know what’s going on down here? I mean, I never really paid attention, but… MARTIN: N–not really? I think? I mean, Tim’s been going on about it to anyone who listens, but I think they just… think he’s had a bit of a breakdown. ARCHIVIST: Well, I mean… MARTIN: I mean, they can quit.

And it also was a bit reminiscent of Gary Boylan’s own situation in his statement (MAG144: “We were both… trapped there, I think. Bound together in a sort of wordless misery.”). I’m not sure, then, that we should believe everything Martin told Daisy, especially since he pointed out to Peter that he had purposely wanted to drive Daisy away… partially to prevent Peter from wooshing her:

(MAG144) [VERY SHARP SQUEAL OF DISTORTION] MARTIN: [LONG SIGH] … Well? PETER: I’m impressed! And grateful. MARTIN: I didn’t do it for you. PETER: Even better. MARTIN: … It’s easier, this way. I’m sure you’d have had no problem sending her away. PETER: I hadn’t really thought about it. And now, thanks to you, I don’t need to. MARTIN: Yeah, well. It seems to be your go-to move for dealing with anyone.

He… did tell Daisy that there were “more important things than feelings right now”, and it’s heart-breaking when taking into account that he AGGRESSIVELY (and so beautifully snappily.) wanted people to be Happy at the end of season 2… but I want to Believe in Martin being good at Manipulating people in the direction he wants. Martin has a history of weaponising his own feelings when it served his purpose: he knows how to use them against others, and it’s precisely how he managed to make Elias do exactly what he needed, in MAG118 – it’s because he had Feelings that it worked. But at the same time, I do think a bit of truth might be sneaking out, even in this case, and that Martin’s own bitterness… might be showing some of his true feelings, too. To put it more simply: I heard the exchange and Martin making Daisy leave as a conscious move from his part, focusing on the goal… but I’m not sure that all of his words were faked and false. And that might be another danger of The Lonely, too? That Martin pushing people away and thinking he is in control… might lead to him falling deeper into The Lonely, because he’s cutting ties and working alone. There is something so dangerous in thinking that you’re friends with people, that you care for them… while you refuse to share anything anymore with them, push them away constantly, only know them from afar and dread more and more to interact with them. And I’m not sure that Martin is taking that into account as much as he should. What is the point of sacrificing himself to protect others if it makes everyone miserable in the process, including him?

- One glimmer of hope is that it had been pointed out, during their last interaction, that Daisy was “observant”:

(MAG142) MARTIN: … Yeah. [LONG INHALE] I suppose. [LONG EXHALE] You’re… you’re pretty observant, you know? DAISY: Detective, remember? MARTIN: Yeah, you did mention.

Daisy showed that she was good at paying attention, reading people and their feelings. So she might be able to correctly interpret what Martin said, and guess that… Peter was around. Martin did talk like a hostage trying to make another bystander leave before they’d get involved (he’d sounded like that with Jon, already, in MAG129).

(But I’m worried that Daisy might feel let down by him at the same time, and take his words at face value despite it all? ;;)

(… Another option: MAG142 ended with the tape recorder being cut off, while Martin and Daisy were still together and talking. So it’s possible that they strategised a bit after that about how to act/behave, and about the fact that Peter can turn invisible, and that Daisy knows a bit more about Martin’s whole situation. I don’t know ;; I’m stupidly hoping that Team Archives could finally manage to… plan together… and achieve things…)

- I’m so glad that Daisy has been around……………… She tried to act as a bridge between Jon and Martin, between the two Main Threads of the season 4, and? It’s really not what you would have expected from her when she first appeared in MAG061, and with her whole attitude in season 3, aaaaah…

(- And OOPS over the fact that Martin, who had decided to be cold and dry since the beginning of their scene (aggressively scribbling and pointedly… not making it sound like he’s available: the message was clearly that he was busy and she was bothering him and unwanted)… snapped and exploded and cut her off when she mentioned Jon and Jon using Daisy to get to him. Aouch. Is it that he’s unallowed anything Jon as far as Peter is concerned? Or because Martin really wants to prevent Peter from focusing on Jon?)

(- Also! Martin was chill with Daisy talking with him in MAG142, but not here in MAG144. Is it because now, he likes Daisy and wants to protect her, while he didn’t care in MAG142 because… he didn’t know much about Daisy’s actual personality outside of The Hunt? Or is it because Martin is beginning to be able to tell when Peter is spying on him, and when he isn’t? He directly addressed Jon through the tape at the end of MAG138, implying that he assumed that he was safe from Peter back then (he tried to lure him out and Peter didn’t manifest… but that wasn’t a guarantee). Here, he didn’t slip anything and was expecting Peter to pop up, from the start. So: can he feel it, now?)

- Peter’s logic is… so frightening:

(MAG144) PETER: I’m impressed! And grateful. MARTIN: I didn’t do it for you. PETER: Even better. MARTIN: … It’s easier, this way. I’m sure you’d have had no problem sending her away. PETER: I hadn’t really thought about it. And now, thanks to you, I don’t need to. […] Oh! Speaking of which: I’ve had a report of a workplace dispute in the library, and I would value your input. I’m trying to get out of the habit of, what did you call it…? “Sending them away”? MARTIN: [SIGH] … Fine.

It’s… really that Martin is trapped in this situation where only he can damage-control Peter, and they both know it, and Peter uses it fully to get Martin close and wrapped around his little finger, too (although Martin still snaps a lot and nags Peter and unleashes his pettiness at him in return). And Martin had already told Jon, during their last exchange:

(MAG129) ARCHIVIST: At least, The Eye hasn’t gone after our own. Lukas has vanished two people! MARTIN: Yeah, and if it wasn’t for me, it would’ve been a lot more. [SILENCE] This isn’t helping anything.

And… Martin was right back then ;; (And Peter probably wooshed these two people just for Martin to know that he could prevent it if he just… complied and stayed around and kept a close eye on Peter and did all his work. Martiiiiiin, you’re so absolutely stuck in an abusive relationship…)

- (not) SMOOTH, PETER, (not) SMOOTH:

(MAG134) PETER: Martin… My patron, hopefully our patron someday, doesn’t give me any sort of special insights. I’m not quite the accomplished voyeur that Elias was. I have to keep tabs on things the old-fashioned way. MARTIN: What, turning invisible and eavesdropping? PETER: If you like. But… I’m only one person, and I can’t keep an eye on everything.

(MAG138) MARTIN: I think he wants me to join The Lonely. ELIAS: Then it sounds like you have a decision to make.

(MAG144) PETER: I’m just not big on confrontation. You understand, I’m sure. MARTIN: We. Are not. The same. PETER: Of course. […] MARTIN: So what’s our next step? PETER: For you, keep researching. I’m sure we haven’t found all the statements in here that deal with The Extinction yet. One of the downsides of not serving The Ceaseless Watcher is that we have to actually look things up. Not to… mention the fact that Gertrude was distressingly good at obfuscation. The more you know about our enemy, the better.

… he slightly stressed that last “we” and it sounds like he absolutely does count Martinas being on the same side as him now and… not much as a Beholding agent? Getting hunches and being directed towards statements is Jon’s thing but the way Peter was dividing Beholding things and how he himself (and Martin alike) has to operate was a bit striking… ;;

(- On that note: I’m curious about how Peter mentions that Gertrude “was distressingly good at obfuscation” – we knew that already, right, but… Adelard’s letter in MAG113 (circa 2012) explicitly stated that Gertrude was “dismissive” of the possibility of a New Threat, and Adelard had chronologically already labelled it as The Extinction to her (MAG134’s letter is from 2009). Yet, Peter is assuming that Gertrude hid the information around the new Fear on purpose? Is it because Peter doesn’t know (yet) about the fact that Gertrude didn’t believe in it (and Gertrude might have accidentally labelled this and that statement with other Fears’ stamps), or did Gertrude… actually get more concerned about it, in her last years, and hide information on purpose…?)

- Re: Peter’s distaste for Confrontation and his implications that Martin is the same… it makes sense as a Lonely thing, but also: it… isn’t Very Martin, in fact? Because Martin held back, but he also did end up confronting people here and there – exploding at Jon in MAG039, nagging him into eating, orchestrating The Intervention, and trying to get him to talk to Tim in season 2, exploding in front of Tim in MAG079, literally confronting Elias in MAG118. But at the same time: it’s true that it Takes A Lot for Martin to finally snap.

But the thing about being non-confrontational is not exclusively Lonely and I’m reminded of these moments in relation to Martin:

(MAG138) MARTIN: … What? [HUFF] That’s it? No, no monologue, no mindgames? You love manipulating people! ELIAS: That makes two of us.

(MAG128, Breekon) “The Spider’s always an easy job – no fuss, no complication, everything planned and prepared. It knows too much to truly be a Stranger, but hides its knowing well enough to endure.”

So mmmmmm, I might be grasping at straws and I still want to hope about Web!Martin but. What Martin is doing can still perfectly be read as absolutely Web-y: not confronting and mostly getting people where and how he wants them, making them believe they are the ones in control of their own actions and decisions, while hiding in plain sight.

- I’m… so sorry for Martin, why is your life SO HARD baby:

(MAG138) MARTIN: Great. Great, great. So, what you’re [NERVOUS LAUGHTER] actually saying is that you’re gonna be… no help whatsoever! ELIAS: … Just like old times~ MARTIN: I don’t know what I expected.

(MAG144) MARTIN: You’re not just going to tell me, maybe? PETER: When have I ever? MARTIN: [LONG-SUFFERING SIGH]

Martin had to deal with BOTH of them, do you even realize how shitty his life is? He got the Worst Of Elias, and he’s been dealing with Peter for months, and They’re Just The Same. (Lonely Eyes rubbing off on each other, I GUESS? :w)

(- On that nsfw note:

(MAG144) MARTIN: And you? PETER: I have my own explorations I need to attend to. […] I’m absolutely delighted with your progress, and I feel you’ve earned some straight answers. MARTIN: But not from you. PETER: Oh, no. That sort of conversation makes me very uncomfortable.

1°) “Straight” (answers) make Peter uncomfortable 2°) Peter has his “own explorations” to take care of

… was that a reference to Elias, Peter.)

- The Dark is (presumably) dealt with so now, we’re getting new Questions in the Speculation Game, namely: who is Peter’s “friend”?

(MAG144) PETER: I have my own explorations I need to attend to. And a, hum… meeting. To arrange. For you…! MARTIN: For me? PETER: I’m absolutely delighted with your progress, and I feel you’ve earned some straight answers. MARTIN: But not from you. PETER: Oh, no. That sort of conversation makes me very uncomfortable. No, I’m owed a favour by a friend of mine. I’ve asked him to stop by, when he’s back in the country. MARTIN: You’re not just going to tell me, maybe? PETER: When have I ever? MARTIN: [LONG-SUFFERING SIGH] PETER: Oh, come now. What would life be without the occasional twist?

It’s a “he”. People we’ve heard about that I’m considering:

* Mikaele Salesa: we got reminded of his existence in MAG141, and he’s been revealed to be Officially Dead… through a third-hand account, who never saw the body, and it was after retrieving an item with an unknown purpose (but a broken camera lens… brought me to mind Beholding or Dark stuff, and something allowing you to conceal instead of revealing?). We know that Peter and Salesa were on good enough terms, back in MAG066, for them to… bet on whether someone would survive getting accidentally stuck in one of Salesa’s items, and he looked a bit relieved that the dude hadn’t died, so Peter opening the crate sounded like he was doing him a favour => could be the one Peter is referring to, or something else, but at least, they know each other, they both are Sailors People, etc., so learning a bit more about how they came to be acquaintances/them working on some projects together would make sense.

* Simon Fairchild: Peter said that his friend would be “back in the country” and we know that Simon Fairchild, who travels a lot, is actually from Hackney (if it’s the same con artist who was active in the 1930s that Jon had worked on, as he mentioned in MAG051). The Lukases and Fairchilds participated together in the Daedalus project, both “families” (Gerry told us that while the Lukases are about bloodlines, Fairchilds are… more of a brand?) are filthy rich, and, overall, Jon jinxed it back in MAG124 when he spat that “I do not think I ever wish to meet him.”

* Adelard Dekker…? I would be very surprised if he had been on friendly terms with Peter, but then, we don’t know much about Adelard (he tended to save people or prevent more victims when he was around… but it was more about neutralising threats than caring much about collateral damages: he did use explosives to stop The Flesh’s ritual). I’m kinda expecting Adelard to either have turned into an Extinction avatar by present time, or have been killed researching it, or have been killed… by Peter, hence Peter knowing so much about his researches but not asking for his help in tracking down his statements. (I had also considered at some point that MMM, what if Adelard and Peter are actually the same person under aliases…? But they’re both Rare Cases of characters who have had official descriptions: Peter is very pale even for a white man, while Adelard is a Black man. So nah.)

* Oliver Banks…? I’m not suggesting him because I love this sneaky little shit and would love to hear him more – er, not only because of it. But overall, Peter was able to explain to Martin why The End had never tried a ritual attempt and wasn’t interested in it, while he wasn’t as certain of The Web’s motivations for doing the same (and not carrying out its ritual)… so that could fit with him being actually pretty well acquainted with an End avatar as an inside source. Not banking (get it? get it?) on it, but. (Also, canonically handsome mlm Oliver never met Tim (as far as we know), which is a shame, but. Martin is still right here. And Oliver knows a bit about Jon’s dreams and overall situation with the Spiders. So could be an interesting encounter.)

* Another Lukas…? Peter said “friend”, though, but I’m pretty sure he would call Martin a “friend” to someone else if asked, and they’re not friends. (… This sentence sounds like SF’s Trexel.)

* I’m trying to “be in Peter’s head” and imagine what it would take for him to use that wording, and: I’m not expecting it at all, because I think he… won’t be relevant ever aside from what we were told in MAG118. But. But if Peter’s “friend” was actually Martin’s dad, this is probably the wording he would use, and it would be awful.

- So we got an update and Basira&Jon made it “home” safely:

(MAG144) DAISY: They’re back. I thought you might wanna know. [INHALE] Seems like it went smooth – too smooth for Basira, sounds like. Keeps looking at Jon like she can’t believe he made it back. [SILENCE] I, uh… I mentioned our conversation to him; he asked me to check on–

We technically don’t know how long it took them through Helen’s corridors, but presumably not much time. (… Martin had apparently felt like he had been stuck with Tim in Michael’s for weeks, although it was actually at most a day or two? He did spit that it had been “weeks” at Elias but we know the dates at the end of season 2 / beginning of season 3, it can’t have been weeks.)

Why is Basira surprised that Jon managed to make it back…? Is it because she thinks he should be dead from the Dark Sun…? (Because… I would expect Basira to be surprised that she herself made it back – and we had confirmation that she wasn’t planning to get rid of Jon against The Dark, since she tried to convince him to not Try To Get Himself Killed and even suggested that leave a potential threat untouched, in MAG143… So why the focus on Jon?) Daisy interacted with him and didn’t mention anything amiss, so I doubt he got blinded, in any case?

In summary: we’ve… been cut-out from Jon’s POV since MAG139/MAG140 and Jon Still Remains A Mystery – what is he thinking, when did he begin to forcefully torture and extort live-statements from innocent people (… if it was indeed him in MAG142 and not the rib he gave to Jared mutating or something)? Martin has been gradually taking more importance, in season 4: he was barely seen at first (MAG124, MAG129), began to have his moments alone/with Peter (MAG126), went back to reading statements (MAG134, MAG138, MAG144) and to having episodes solely dedicated to him interacting with people and wondering about his own researches (MAG138 when he first visited Elias, MAG142 when he received the Unnamed Female Victim’s complain). Martin’s episodes are getting more and more frequent, to the point of… alternating with “Jon”’s episodes since we came back from the hiatus. While Jon’s own thoughts are currently hidden to us, Martin has been more transparent and has received focus of his own. He’s stepping up as a protagonist, right now… and it could be the sign that we’re meant to lose Jon (whether because he would die-die or die-as-Jon) soon…?

(- Last time Martin and Jon interacted was fifteen episodes ago, in MAG129 (holy Mew) and… at this point, I’m doubting more and more that if they do interact ever again, it would go… well. Whether because Peter is in the room and Martin pulls the same thing he did with Daisy (shouting at her until she left, screaming/pretending/maybe being more honest than he thought about his own bitterness), or because Martin takes into account what he’s been told by the woman in MAG142, or… anything. Even if Jon picks up, like the fandom did, on the fact that he’s been led by Elias to experience other Fears and that the Lonely is missing… pointing out to Martin that Martin is possibly meant to be the one inflicting the Lonely on him, and that Peter’s schemes were mostly to keep Martin occupied and push him towards the Lonely to have an effect on Jon… would be devastating for Martin? It’s still a possibility (though I personally do believe that there IS indeed a new threat, whether it’s The Extinction or… something else, that they’ve all been misinterpreting), and it was brought up, whether it’d be true or not, I can’t imagine Martin reacting well to the thought that he’d have only been used and never mattered in the first place. How could Jon and Martin even interact, nowadays? Jon has already told Martin that he missed him. Daisy implied that Jon sent her to check on him. Martin knows that Jon is worried and cares – he knows, and it’s not enough, because there is the new threat and Peter to deal with at the moment. And in the meantime, Jon has apparently fallen deeper into Beholding than we previously thought. How could they even find a common ground after this…? (………………… except by sharing mourning over Tim and Sasha, I guess. I miss Tim.)

Title for MAG145 is out and OOOOH BOY. Obviously, it brings to mind the whole content of MAG139 and Jon’s tirade at the end – AND it screams “Corruption statement” (finally!! baby is maybe finally making it into season 4!!). We have a link between Desolation and Corruption through Diego’s beliefs in “Asag” (who contained both aspects), and the fact that Arthur Nolan had been “demoted” from cult leader to The Hive’s landlord and… we still don’t know the story behind that. But I’m not sure we would dig into Desolation/Agnes-related matters so soon, since Eugene had explained that they had lost their chance for their ritual for a few decades – it’s not an urgent matter for Jon, I doubt he’ll keep investigating right now, after having just confirmed that they aren’t a current threat? So, mmm, things I’m considering:

- Jon digging into Corruption/Desolation history again anyway.

- Jon digging into the Corruption to check if they got their ritual attempt – it’s missing on our list, could have been what the worms were trying to do in the tunnels but we still don’t know… and overall, we don’t know a lot about how Corruption operates past independent avatars (The Hive/Jane Prentiss, and John Amherst, Maggie/Gordie): would a ritual be carried out by a lonesome avatar, or would it need a collaboration between many?

- Another of Gertrude’s tapes, this time about The Corruption and their plans for a ritual? Because perhaps the double meaning of the title could… be about her own thoughts (since we already had a look at Jon’s own in MAG139).

- MELANIE digging into Corruption-related matters to track down (or establish what happened to him, if he’s dead) John Amherst’s moves after MAG036/MAG055’s reports.

As for the second meaning: I doubt it would be about Martin, and I’m not sure if it can be about Jon again so soon after MAG139 (unless… it’s about Something Else, ie Jon, what are your current thoughts about The Watcher’s Crown. Have you never mentioned that you wanted to stop it because you’re afraid of negative repercussions if you say it outright, or because you actually do not not want to prevent it.)… so, the assistants about Jon? Or about Martin, since he chased Daisy away? Or an overall realisation that they thought they were doing their own things, but have probably been played by Elias all through season 4?

[prettywordsyouleft]

Becoming Human - Chapter 23

Previous Chapters:  1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22

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After the dinner party success, Daniel soon joined Leo more often around the company. At first, it seemed to frustrate Doctor Jung, not wanting the robots to get too close with one another. But even he was able to see the difference in Daniel through their connection. Without any added software, Leo’s influence was enough to help Daniel produce his own thought. In the office, if something didn’t sit well with the robot, he wouldn’t immediately push it away now, even going as far as to speak back to one of the staff members who had treated him like a sentient being with no feelings. It surprised everyone around him, and I think even Daniel was shocked too. From that moment, Daniel suddenly had more of a presence in the office and no longer was seen as the invisible character unless they needed something.

It made me proud to know that Leo had spurred this behaviour on.

And when Younha all but jumped me the very next morning, dragging me into her office, I knew there had to be further changes that had blown her mind. Glancing around the room as if there were spies about, she then huddled closer to me, her eyes wide. “Can we talk privately?”

“I don’t think it could get any more private than this, unni.”

She smiled weakly and then grabbed my hands in hers. “Promise me you won’t hate me and have any disrespect for me if I tell you this. I’m still your boss but you cannot get awkward with me, okay? I just have no one else to tell this to.”

“Okay?” I agreed slowly, frowning a little at her precursor. She nodded rapidly and then took in a deep breath.

“He’s changed.”

“I know, I’ve been seeing him in the office and how he spoke with Minjae-”

“No, I mean, oh god how do I announce this? Last night, he initiated it. He never has! And he was so different.”

Oh, so that was what she meant. I wondered why I wasn’t entirely embarrassed to hear of my boss and her Kboy being intimate, but from how close we had gotten in the past few days, it seemed natural and instead I offered for her to continue. Younha’s face relaxed momentarily, although she soon became quite animated.

“It was like he was out of control! Instead of following the usual dialogue and me starting it, Daniel was babbling on about feeling something new inside of him at how he stood up for himself more than once this week, and how Leo had congratulated him for having his own thoughts and believing in them. And then he said how much he had been thinking about me, and suddenly we were…”

We both shared a knowing expression and I nodded. “Was it that overwhelming?”

“I guess because you’ve never been around a Kboy, you don’t know how repetitive everything can be. I get why Sohyun has so many face-ups on hers just so it doesn’t grow stale. And sure they install patches with added features, but we as the owner are always in control. We dictate how fast, how slow, how long-”

“Okay, I understand!” I cut in and she apologised meekly. “This is great news though, right? I mean, you were complaining he was one dimensional. Now he’s got a little more to him.”

“We’re not letting Leo be erased. Let’s present this change to the team. Honestly, if he can influence one Kboy to consider more than what he’s programmed to do, think of how advanced Leo must really be! And we know he won’t do anything to harm the well-being of our bots, so I think it would be a crime to let Leo’s abilities disappear like this. We need to get our hands on another robot to add to our collection.”

Precisely then we watched Sohyun walk past the office, sharing a smile before dragging the girl into the office and shutting the door firmly.

  We didn’t have many days left until Leo’s scheduled demise. Gunhee had been keeping us in the loop of the plans, and with Sohyun’s introduction to the team, we now were three robots strong in proof that what Leo was capable of doing could be done so without the loss of what he had learned. And even though the timing was brief, Doyoung responded well to both Leo and Daniel’s interaction.

Okay so maybe they had gotten a little too excited discussing what pizza toppings they would have if they could ever eat, still, it made them more human-like.

And that was what the science team wanted for Kboys.

As Leo and I laid in bed the night before the meeting with Doctor Jung, I felt a small bout of despair. Would it all work? We had all planned everything so well that I really knew we could present our case to the science department well. But Doctor Jung still called the shots. I didn’t own Leo and he did. Knowing this made me uneasy and sleep evaded me, even with Leo’s fingers running through my hair.

“Stop worrying,” he soothed and I sighed. Kissing my forehead, he shifted closer. “We’ll fight him.”

“He’s not a bad person, Leo.”

“He’s not my favourite person either,” he retorted and I turned to see him smile. “You know I don’t think I’ve been this happy before.”

“Well it’s been pretty hectic with all the stuff you’ve been doing, you must feel pretty fulfilled.”

Leo nodded. “Today Daniel told me he looked up the meaning of best friend in depth and has decided I am his. It made me feel really special. To have a best friend. To be a hyung to both him and Doyoung, to have a role in their existence too. It must have been so lonely for them, especially Doyoung. Imagine sitting at home waiting for your owner to come back and play with you for a few hours and then leave again. I couldn’t do it. I have too many desires, too many goals that I want to achieve.”

“Like?” I asked, nestling into his side so he couldn’t see the tears welling in my eyes. He knew they were there though, and I tried to distract myself by kissing his bare chest lightly.

“Seeing the change in Kboys. Helping them understand they don’t have to live so confined. That they have the ability to evolve into someone, not something. To assist the world of humans. To tell humans when they’re wrong, when they’re unfair. To celebrate their successes. And to see many years at your side, developing with the customisation team a way to mature my appearance as you age. AI has so much potential to complete a person’s world, don’t you think?”

“You’ve completed mine,” I managed to say through my tears, reaching up to cup his cheek in my hand. “Leo, I love you.”

“I love you so much; it’s amazing my brain hasn’t fried.”

“Don’t joke about things like that,” I said with a laugh all the same and nestled back into him.

Maybe tomorrow would go better than I hoped. Especially if he spoke just like he had to me. Doctor Jung would have to see Leo now is better than the data they’ve collected. They didn’t need a new start, just the right person to lead them into success.

  In some twist of fate, convincing Doctor Jung was easier than I had expected. I had antagonised for so long over his reaction, and he had given in so easily. Perhaps he had wanted to test us all one more time. I started to wonder if his adamant behaviour about me not telling Leo was because he knew he’d find out, and actually challenged us to prove another side to Leo that he had gotten the inkling of during the experiment.

Leo’s placement at Kboys became permanent in the science department. Over the next two months, the strategic plans were constructed, and further tests with other Kboys were implemented. The science team grew, not with humans but with fellow Kboys, even the “broken” Jung Jinyoung was now an asset to the team with his sensitivity and deeper understanding of the heart. And although some might have feared an uprising of Kboys against the humans, they were soon seen to be beings that could relate well and understand the dynamics in power. Leo never pushed any harder than he had to and listened well when required. A new age of robotics was right around the corner.

And as much as it pained me to watch him leave, seeing his excitement of having his first sense of identification to fly on a plane was worth it. Leo was off to New York for his first convention. From New York, he went to London, Dubai, Tokyo and then finally back into my arms in Seoul. It was hard having such a popular boyfriend. He was doing so well though, learning new things about robots that he could bring to Kboys, but also offering the world amazing insight into what it was like to be essentially superhuman. He helped many Kboys that soon started attending his lectures, ringing to let me know when they told him they had jobs or meet-ups with fellow Kboys. It could have had a negative impact on society, but there was a wide acceptance that their feelings had equal placing in our world.

Everything was just too perfect.

And that’s why I wasn’t prepared for the worst. 

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Next chapter

A/N: Are we all ready for the final angst ride in the rollercoaster of Becoming Human? We all thought Doctor Jung would be the worst thing we faced, right? Sighhh. Just a gentle reminder that this fiction will be concluding next week on chapter 26! I’m not ready to say goodbye yet, so thank goodness we have 3 more chapters to go!

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[pllandcompany]

Out Loud (Part Four)

Summary: Hospital!AU. Logan has everybody fooled...or so he thinks. (Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three)

Warnings: mentions/description of drug use and addiction, poor self-care habits, undereating, anxiety, some swearing, blood, discussion of medical procedures, mentions of past violence/gun violence

Pairings: QPP Moxiety, Romantic Logince

Tagged: @ziallwarrior  @thefallendog  @jakesmolbean @trueunreal  @a-ghosts @band-be-boss-blog  @thecatchat  @flyingfreeyt  @apologieslogan

Notes: So this is probably the second to last installment. I'm ready to stop torturing poor Logan, dear Lord, boy has it rough. Fair warning, this is a long one but important, i think at least. Previous parts are in the summary if you need a refresher. As always, heed the warnings and enjoy!

"You've hardly touched your meal, my love." Logan looked up from his plate to meet concerned eyes and a worried grimace gracing his partner's face. "I apologize, Roman," he replied softly, guilt beginning a light pounding in his chest.

Roman didn't look assuaged in the slightest. "Is it not to your liking, dearest? I can make something else for you." He took Logan's hand and began rubbing the inside of his palm. Logan closed his eyes briefly at the warm, calming touch. "It's not that, Roman, your cooking is wonderful as always. It simply appears that I do not have much of an appetite this evening, that's all."

Roman's frown grew deeper. "Are you feeling sick? You should go rest, I'll make you some soup and bring it to you-"

"That won't be necessary," Logan held up the hand that was previously in Roman's soft grip, feeling the cold settle into his skin again. "I think I am just a bit over-tired." He stood to take his plate into the kitchen, taking care of the leftovers before rinsing the dish.

"Where are you going?" Roman barely fought the urge to whine.

"To lay down," Logan said from the kitchen, voice slightly raised. He walked out of the kitchen past Roman who, without warning, gripped his wrist so tightly it stole his breath. Roman's entire being seemed to be trembling.

“Don’t,” Roman gasped, the word tight with suppressed tears. Logan stared in earnest confusion and fear for how quickly the neurosurgeon was unraveling in front of him. “Don’t what, Roman?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t…disappear on me again. I just got you back. And I’m not even sure you’re all the way here. I need you. Please…don’t leave me.” The plea shook Logan to the core. Roman didn’t beg. He demanded, he decreed, he insisted, sure, but he never, ever begged for anything he wanted. Logan swallowed thickly, panic rising in his throat. He can’t sense that anything is wrong. I can’t let him see it. He lowered himself into Roman’s lap, straddling him and looping his arms around broad shoulders. He pulled them together for a passionate kiss, deep and slow, only pulling back when he felt the quivers of the younger man’s tears begin to slow. “I’m right here, Roman. I know I...went away for a while but I'm back now. You do not need to worry. I’m here.” Roman crashed their lips together a second time, the kiss more forceful and frantic. It left Logan’s head light and empty. He pulled away and rested his head on his lover’s chest, panting. Roman immediately began to fret again.

“Are you all right, mi amor? Was that too much for you? Oh, I really think you should eat something more, the amount you had wasn't nearly enough-”

Logan got up quickly, ignoring the way the room spun in front of him. “Shhh, calm, Roman, calm. You worry too much. I am adequate, I simply require some rest. Teaching Virgil is a taxing endeavor, you know how stubborn he is.” A light chuckle escaped Logan’s lips, drawing a small smirk from Roman. “There’s the smile I was looking for.” Logan leaned in for one last quick kiss, a sultry look spreading across his face. “Feel free to come join me when you’re ready. I could use some company.” He sauntered out of the room, holding himself together until the last possible second. Once he reached Roman’s bedroom, he slid down the back of the door and clutched his knees. The room rapidly became a carousel, whirling violently in his vision.

He needed more and he needed it now.

Logan crawled to his overnight bag and pulled out a medium sized manicure kit. He scrambled to his feet and into the lavish bathroom, quickly locking the door behind him. He opened the kit over the sink, careful not to spill anything onto the thick, red mat. Logan smirked to himself for being clever enough to hide his…materials in such an innocuous place, although the risk he was taking using in Roman's house was reckless enough to cancel that cleverness out completely. If he were to be caught...the consequences could be damning. At this moment though, Logan was desperate. He pushed the thoughts of being found out away from his brain as he loosened the (stolen) tourniquet and let the drug follow freely through this veins. He needed to relax. To forget. To erase the painful cacophony of loud chatter that was his mind. In a stroke of drug-induced brillance, Logan reached over to the bathtub and ran the hot water. Roman would think he was just taking a bath to relax and would patiently wait until he emerged from the bathroom, not even bothering to check on him.

Chalk another one up to him for cleverness.

He finally sunk to the floor and laid supine on the plush bathroom mat, the high crashing into him like the waves of a forbidden sea. Once the initial intensity ebbed away, he got up, ran his head under the faucet briefly and turned off the water. He quickly toweled his hair dry, packed up his manicure kit, and changed into his sleepwear, careful to pack the kit at the very bottom of his overnight bag. His limbs felt heavy as he slid into the queen-sized bed, sinking into the too-soft mattress and drifting into a sedated, dreamless sleep.

Moments later, Roman came upstairs and curled in next to his lover, not even noticing the small prick of blood that had dripped onto the red sheets from Logan's arm.

****

Virgil was, to say the very least, exhausted.

Not just tired. Deep down to the core of his bones exhausted. His hair hurt and his muscles felt like they were evaporating into the couch he laid on, groaning. Patton took pity on his tired comrade and walked over, going unnoticed by Virgil. He settled on the couch and lifted the trauma surgeon's feet to rest in his lap, earning a moan of protest that quickly turned to pleasure as the massage began.

"You are a godsend, Patton, I swear," Virgil mumbled, eyes lidded in relaxation. Patton blushed slightly from the praise. "Well, you just look so tired, I'll do anything to help. Logan's really running you ragged still, huh?"

"I'll say that. It's like residency all over again except this time I'm simultaneously running a department. You know, since...Dr. Copeland was..." Patton frowned, remembering the tragic passing of Virgil's supervisor on...that day. He shook his head of the unpleasant memory. "Well, how does that even work, Virge? You can't be in two places at once."

"Easy. Since Logan has me doing all of his surgeries, any traumas that come in that aren't cardiac get deferred to the fellow. And when I can supervise or need to adjust the schedule, I step in. If I'm free from Logan's service, then I go back to mine and take over surgeries."

Patton froze, horrified. "Virgil...that does not sound easy, that sounds awful! You're burning yourself out, how do you not see that?" Virgil spun his legs out of Patton's lap and sat up to face him, the foot rub having given him renewed energy. "I know it sounds crazy, Pat, but listen. The past few weeks have been...exhilarating. Learning new things, being in charge...look, I thought about what you said before. About a double speciality? I know I dismissed it at first but...I'm basically already running the trauma department now! If I keep this up and become a more well-rounded surgeon, maybe the Chief would take me seriously enough to promote me. I could be a permanent department head, not just a placeholder."

Patton took Virgil's hands into his own and squeezed. "Sweetheart. You are far more than just a placeholder. And you are valuable all on your own. You don't need extra specialties or a promotion to be taken seriously. Especially if getting there is going to take this much of a toll on you. I don't want to kill your dream if that's what you really want but only if you're happy and healthy doing it." Patton paused for a moment, recalling something Virgil said earlier. "Logan has you doing all of his procedures?"

"Well, yeah, but only the simple ones. Anything complicated gets deferred to his fellow."

Patton raised an eyebrow. That just didn't sound right. "So he's not operating at all?" Virgil blinked slowly as if he was just realizing the truth of Patton's words. "Yeah, I guess not...maybe he's just more focused on teaching for the moment? I mean, we're all still kind of easing our way back into normal life."

Patton clicked his tongue and folded his arms. "Except for you. You're leading two lives, doing the work of two surgeons."

Virgil shrank back. "Are you mad at me, Pat? I know I haven't been around as much but it's for a good reason." Patton sighed, taking his partner's hands a second time. "No, sweetheart, I'm not mad at you, I'm just worried about you...and Logan. It's weird that he's not operating at all."

"Is it weird that he isn't operating or is it weird that I am?" Virgil asked defensively, yanking back his hands. "You think I can't do this, right? Can't handle it, hmm?" Patton looked on shock. "No! Of course that's not what I'm saying!"

Virgil shook his head angrily, too keyed up to hear reason. "I don't get it. You were so damn excited when I first started this. You put the freakin' idea of department head in my brain and now that I actually want it, you think I can't do it! How about you make up your damn mind, huh?"

"Virgil Shea, I don't care how tired you are, I will not have you speak to me this way! You apologize this instant!" The trauma surgeon glared at Patton in stubbornness, recoiling when the older man returned the glare in spades. "You're right. I am tired. And jumping to conclusions. I'm sorry, I know you're just trying to be there for me."

Patton's expression softened considerably. "And I know you have trouble letting people do that sometimes. I'll forgive you...as long as you march yourself into that bedroom right now and sleep. You look dead on your feet...or butt since you're sitting." They both giggled as Virgil stretched, yawning and joints popping into place. He giggled a second time at Patton's disgusted frown at the noise. "Sorry, I know you hate that."

"It sounds like you're falling apart."

"It's because I am," Virgil said dryly, another yawn stealing his words. "Gonna go put myself back together with some sleep." He trudged away shuffling his feet before he paused and turned to face Patton again. "Thanks for always looking out for me, Pat."

Patton beamed. "Love you too, Virge." He watched Virgil's back fondly until he shuffled into the bedroom, leaving Patton alone with his thoughts. Thoughts that for once weren't bright and bubbly. Thoughts that he prayed weren't true but he felt almost certain they were. His smile dropped as his brain flashed the upsetting conclusion in neon lights.

It wasn't likely that he would end up being wrong but boy, would he give anything to not be right.

****

"You're doing very well, Dr. Davidson," Logan reassured, observing Virgil's work. "We should be done here soon." He glanced at the clock anxiously. "It is...taking a bit longer than expected but that is probably due to your lack of experience causing you to pause and take more of your time."

Virgil snorted. "Thanks for the constructive criticism, General. Heart-warming, truly." Virgil winced internally. "Oh God, no pun intended. Jeez, I've really gotta stop letting Patton rub off on me." Logan stole another look at the clock, obviously not absorbing anything that was just said. "You got somewhere to be, General? Is my slow pace holding you up?" Virgil chuckled behind his mask, hoping that Logan would catch the sarcasm. Instead, the older man flinched nervously and fixed the table with a wide-eyed stare. "No. I am fine. Pay attention." He spoke unusually firmly and Virgil would have responded with another sardonic retort...

If the patient's artery didn't blow right into his and Logan's face.

Oh my God, she's crashing, Virgil thought, panicked. Holy shit, okay Virge, what do you do, what do you do? "Dr. Taylor, a little help?" Virgil looked back to see a frozen Logan with his mouth gaping and fumbling to speak. "Logan! Focus! I need help, either step in or tell me what to do!" Logan couldn't hear him over the sound of firearms ringing in his ears. The blood that hit his face came from the body of David Bacall when police shot him in the head right in front of him and the gunshot looped over and over again, spraying him with more and more blood each time...

A steady beep of a regular heartbeat broke into Logan's senses. He blinked several times before registering Virgil's voice and the words that accompanied it.

"Never mind, Dr. Taylor, I secured the bleed. She's fine, I'm ready to close now." He sounded supremely irritated. Logan swallowed, still struggling to make his vocal cords work. "I see, Virgil. You did very well." Virgil barely fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Yeah, thanks for all of your help."

Once the surgery was over, Virgil snatched off his mask and confronted Logan while they were scrubbing out. "You wanna tell me what the hell that was in there? Was that some teachable moment or did you just not feel like doing your job today?"

Logan quickly turned to face the trauma surgeon, eyes flashing with anger. "Excuse me? It is my job to teach you."

"No, you made it your job to teach me. And now I wanna know why. Why have I been killing myself running two services while you just stand there and do nothing? Are you scared or what? What's the deal? I'm done covering for you, so spill."

"I don't have a deal, Dr. Davidson. I was trying to do you a favor and help you feel more confident in your abilities as a surgeon. I see now that my efforts are wholly unappreciated." Logan cut himself off to brace himself against the sink, panting slightly. "Perhaps it is best that this arrangement comes to an end."

Virgil frowned, ignoring Logan's dissolution of their practice. "Dude, are you okay? You're sweating. Oh God." Virgil lowered his voice. "Did you have an anxiety attack in there? Did I just ream you out for having PTSD? Oh God, Lo, okay. I won't say anything about this. Have you been seeing Nate? You know you need to talk to him if-"

"Virgil, stop! I am perfectly satisfactory. You have...have nothing to worry about." The room was spinning yet again. Logan prayed Virgil didn't notice.

"No...no you aren't, Lo. And I don't know what you're running from but you are running. And you need to face it before it catches up to you." Logan stared him down determinedly for what seemed like a full minute before he finally broke eye contact. Virgil remained calm and unmoved, eyes full of compassion and longing for his friend to tell him the truth. "Our work together is done," Logan said somberly. "You may go back to trauma." Virgil watched the cardiac surgeon exit briskly. He leaned against the sink himself, heart thudding in his chest as he tried to physically shake the intrusive thoughts from his head.

He knew exactly who he needed to see.

Virgil let himself into Patton's office and waited for him to respond to his page. Moments later the fetal surgeon came striding in, worry barely concealed by a tentative smile. "Hey, what's up? I got your page, are you all right?" Virgil stood and rapidly closed the door, almost slamming it. "You were right. Something is wrong with Logan. He froze in surgery today and when I confronted him about it, he practically fell apart right in front of me...he is definitely not okay. You were right, Pat."

Patton's smile slowly faded and he closed his eyes as if to block out the truth. "Is it-"

"Don't...say it. If you say it out loud, it makes it true and...I don't know if I'm ready to go there yet."

"Have you tried to talk to him?"

"You know I can't. I've accused him of this before, he'll use that against me and shut me out." Patton nodded. "I'll talk to him then."

"Are you sure, Pat? He might get..."

"I can handle it. Besides, he's not expecting me to talk to him. It might be an advantage. I'm okay, Virge, I got this." Patton nodded, a tentative smile crawling back onto his face.

"Okay, Pat. Let's avoid saying anything to Roman until we're sure. If we're right...this will crush him."

"I know, Virge. First priority is Logan."

"We have to fix this." Virgil sounded choked. Patton's eyes widened and he pulled the taller man into his chest, warming him with his embrace.

"We will try our best to, Virge. We will definitely try."

****

Logan was grateful that he had gotten quick at this. Patton had ended up at his door much sooner than he calculated after the bubbly doctor paged him asking for a visit. Normally, using at work was to be avoided at all costs but this time, it was justified if he was to bear the sunshiny disposition of Dr. Patton Parker today. After disposing of his materials in a hazmat bag, Logan leaned back in his desk chair, bracing himself for a loaded conversation. A soft knock at the door came moments later and in walked Patton, a dimmed smile dancing across his lips.

"Hiya, Logan."

"Dr. Parker. You appear to be...subdued."

"Me?" Patton pointed to himself. "No, of course not. I was just thinking."

Logan made a noise of mild disbelief. "I see. If you've come to defend Virgil, I'm sorry but I am no longer the right person to teach him-"

"Calm down, Logan. This isn't a confrontation. Just a...visit! But since we're on the topic, Virgil has truly had a wonderful time with you. He's learned so much and he has this new drive; it's honestly incredible to watch."

Logan shrugged. "I'm sure he won't be singing my praises after today. I'm assuming he told you and that's why you're here? To check on me?" Patton pursed his lips and tutted in mock annoyance. "Again, no. Can't I just want to visit a friend? Besides, we all have off days in the OR. It happens." A moment of silence went between the two before Patton continued. "You know, I was never cut out for cardiothoracics."

Logan's eyebrow raised. "I'm sorry? What do you mean?"

Patton smiled warmly as he spoke. "When I was in med school, I struggled to find my way...a lot. It felt like everyone else around me knew exactly what they wanted and I was the only loser wandering around a lab with no goals. It got me to a point where I didn't really...value my life, so to speak. Then I had my first OB rotation and got to assist with a live birth. That, for me...was like a light bulb turning on in my head. When I handed that baby over to the mother, I thought: 'This person could cure cancer or bring about world peace and I just helped bring them into the world safely.' And I just knew after that I had found my purpose. What better way to appreciate the value of my life than making sure another life gets off to a solid, healthy beginning? It couldn't have felt more right."

Logan nodded in a slow and slightly exaggerated expression, feeling the drug slow his movements and thinking. "That's...lovely, Patton but I'm not sure..."

"Just let me finish, Lo. My point is...I was too soft for cardio. And that's fine because I love what I do. Virgil isn't cut out for cardio either, by the way. He's good at it because he's brilliant but he belongs in trauma. He knows what it's like to start with nothing and come back stronger and he takes every patient that he saves coming through those ER doors on that journey expertly. He is a trauma surgeon. But you? You were built for cardio, wouldn't you agree?"

Logan looked down to fiddle with his tie. "Knew I wanted to be surgeon my whole life. Cardio came in college."

"Exactly. You cardio folks are so similar. You're driven and decisive, hyper-intelligent, disciplined, in love with the medicine, maybe a bit of a know it all at times and you know what you want and you go for it, 110 percent. But you know what else you are? Highly responsible. And of course you are, you have to be, you literally hold life in your hands. You sleep a perfect eight hours before surgery, you exercise, hydrate, nourish yourselves regularly and save lives all without missing a beat. That is you, Logan. Or was you."

Logan's head shot up at that. "Was?"

Patton fixed Logan with an intense look, one that had him squirming slightly. "Mmhmm. So I have to wonder: what would make someone suddenly fall out of love with their purpose? What would make a cardio surgeon not operate? What would make them come to work constantly exhausted, drawn out from skipping meals and lack of sleep? What would make them give up their discipline? Sounds pretty irresponsible, right? Except it doesn't. Because if a responsible, medicine-obsessed cardiothoracic surgeon was on drugs, he wouldn't dare touch a patient. But he wouldn't stray too far from the medicine either." Logan's eyes widened in shock. "You-you can't be suggesting-"

"You're high right now, aren't you?" Patton's tone was far from condemning, a sad sort of sympathy coloring his words. Logan was staring down at his desk, his entire body trembling as his carefully constructed wall came tumbling down. "What you're accusing me of is-"

"I'm not accusing you of anything, Logan. I'm not going to go running to the Chief, I'm not going to threaten you with rehab. I just want you to know that I know. And I'm here. I can help you, we all can help you."

"I am handling it myself. I can handle it."

"Logan Taylor, if you think I believe that for a second, you're deeper in denial than I thought. You can't handle this alone. And you shouldn't. At all. You need your people in your corner." Patton watched the other surgeon's head dip slightly, a fresh wave of tears spilling over his cheeks before he looked up again, chest heaving. "Please...don't tell Roman. I'm not...he can't...he can't know."

"You need to be the one to tell him, I agree but if this goes too far...I will do whatever it takes to save your life. Know that, Logan."

You shouldn't, Logan thought bitterly. "I am handling this, Patton."

The fetal surgeon sighed and nodded, accepting the small progress they made today. He stood to leave, conceding his final point to his colleague. "All right, Logan. I'm not gonna push you. Not today. Today you rest. Tomorrow, we start fresh, okay?" Logan nodded wordlessly, not even looking as Patton exited. He walked over to his window, drew the blinds, and collapsed on the couch, simultaneously feeling nothing and everything all at once. A chilling, insidious numbness froze him at the core and settled into his bones, locking him in place. He couldn't even bring himself to cry anymore; the numbness was far too overwhelming.

If the drugs were supposed to take away the pain, then why did he still hurt so much?