#it feels like no matter what we’re going down a very dangerous path

[redislazy]

Deadly Attachments, Chapter 05

<< Chapter 04

[EVENTUAL SMUT] - Minors DNI > ao3 <

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x female!Reader

Word Count: 7,318

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Summary: As a skilled mercenary, you've navigated countless high-stakes missions—until one job puts you in the crosshairs of Task Force 141 and the elusive "Ghost." Now forced into an uneasy alliance, you’re drawn into a dangerous game of shifting loyalties and hidden motives. But as the stakes climb higher, one question lingers: how close can you get to the man who was meant to be a shadow in your path?

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Content Tags: Enemies to Lovers, Military Action & Romance, Mercenaries, Soldiers, Non-Canon Antagonists, Eventual Smut, Military Inaccuracies, Slow Burn, Will add smut-specific tags later as the story goes

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"Do you know who the leader of Aegis is?” Price asks, his voice low and direct.

You're seated with Task Force 141 in the main room of your makeshift base, the air thick with the smell of strong coffee and tactical gear. Maps and intel reports are strewn across the table, the faint rustling of papers filling the silence. Price leans forward, a serious glint in his eyes as he waits for your response.

You shake your head, feeling a pang of frustration resurface. “No one really does. The leader’s kept their identity hidden, even from most of their own people. Only a few high-ranking lackeys know anything, and they’re the ones who dish out orders to the mercs under them. It’s… compartmentalized.”

Price exhales sharply, leaning back in his chair as he considers this. “Figures. Bastard’s running a whole operation from the shadows.”

Soap’s brows knit together as he glances around at the team. “So what? We take down a few agents, and they just keep popping up like cockroaches. We’d be at this forever.”

Gaz nods in agreement. “The only way to cut them off for good is to go after the one running the show. Take out the leader, and Aegis would crumble from the top down.”

A heavy silence falls over the room as the reality of it sets in. Ghost’s eyes flicker toward you, his gaze unreadable. “You’re saying we need to hit the head of the snake,” he says, tone even but grim. “Find whoever’s pullin’ the strings and make sure they stop for good.”

You swallow, feeling the weight of their words. They make it sound simple, but the truth gnaws at you. Aegis’s leader is more than just a face or a name—they’re a shadow, always out of reach. Tracking them down would be like chasing smoke through the dark, nearly impossible. But it’s what you’ll have to do if you want the target on your back to disappear, if you ever want a chance at being a free, independent mercenary again.

You sigh quietly, thinking over the task ahead. “It won’t be easy. They’ve built their whole operation on staying hidden, letting others take the heat and make the moves.”

Price’s gaze softens, a rare moment of understanding. “We’re not saying it’ll be easy. But you’ve got an advantage the rest of us don’t—you’ve been inside their system, seen how they work. You might be our best chance at getting close enough to flush ‘em out.”

You nod slowly, feeling both the pressure and the strange, growing sense of resolve. This mission was more than personal survival now; it was a matter of closing a chapter that’d haunted you, taking down the very organization that once counted you as their own. It would be hard, maybe harder than anything you’d done—but the path ahead is clearer, and for the first time in a long while, you have a sense of purpose.

“So,” Price says, a determined look passing over him as he glances around at the team, “we go all in. Aegis’s leader is our endgame. Let’s find this threat hiding in the shadows.”

Gaz clears his throat, breaking the determined silence that’s settled over everyone. He leans forward, eyebrows knit together in a frown. “Alright, but where do we even begin with this?” He looks to Price, then over to you. “If she worked with Aegis for ten years and still doesn’t know who’s running the show… it’s like we’re chasing a ghost.”

Price crosses his arms, his gaze fixed on the wall for a moment as he thinks. “You’re right—it won’t be easy. But every organization, no matter how secretive, has a trail. It’s just a matter of finding the cracks, the weak spots in their setup.” He glances over to you, his expression firm but steady. “And you might know where to start looking.”

You shift uncomfortably, feeling the weight of their eyes on you. “They’ve always kept the hierarchy vague, even for those working in it for years. Only the most trusted agents deal directly with whoever’s at the top. Orders trickle down through a few of those loyal yes men, but they don’t leave much of a trail.”

Ghost’s voice cuts through, calm but edged with skepticism. “So we’re sifting through shadows. Fine. But if we know who their high-ranking lackeys are, maybe we can press them hard enough to get to the top.”

“Problem is,” you reply, feeling the familiar frustration at Aegis’s elusive nature, “even their lieutenants aren’t easy to track down. They’re careful, and most of them use proxies or intermediaries. Aegis is designed to protect the leader’s anonymity at all costs.”

Price nods, absorbing the information. “Then we take it one layer at a time. Start with any connections we can find. Places Aegis is active, recurring contacts, anything that can get us closer."

Gaz sighs, running a hand over his face. “Even with that, it could take months, years even, to get anything solid. And if they know she’s working with us against them, they’ll close ranks tighter than ever.”

You clench your jaw, knowing he’s right. Aegis’s leader wasn’t just running an organization—they’d crafted a fortress of secrecy, one that you never even questioned back when you were part of it. The odds feel almost impossible. Yet, a part of you feels a strange, stubborn determination settling in.

“If we want to dismantle Aegis for good,” you say slowly, meeting each of their eyes, “we’ll have to be as relentless as they are. I know it’s hard to track them down, and I know it seems hopeless. But if there’s one thing I learned in all those years, it’s that they get comfortable in their own secrecy. And that… that’s where we’ll find them. Somewhere they think we’ll never look.”

Soap grins slightly, trying to lighten the mood. “So what you’re saying is, we go on the world’s hardest game of hide and seek?”

Ghost rolls his eyes, but there’s a spark of agreement there. “Something like that,” he mutters. Then, to you, he adds, “Just don’t think you’re going at this alone.”

You nod, taking a steadying breath. For the first time, you have allies—ones willing to dig as deep as it takes to uncover Aegis’s secrets. You’d spent a year running from them, dreading the target on your back. Now, with Task Force 141, it’s different. Now, you’re not just trying to escape—you’re going to hunt them down, piece by piece, until there’s nowhere left for their leader to hide.

Captain Price looks around at each of you, a steady resolve in his gaze. “We may be staring at a pile of scrambled intel right now, but HQ’s got the resources and expertise to make sense of that damned hard drive. Once they break through these files, we’ll have a clearer picture of what Aegis is planning and where they’re vulnerable. This hard drive’s our way in, so we sit tight, let them do their part, and be ready to move the second we have actionable intel. We’ve got the edge now, so let’s use it.”

A quiet determination settles over the team, and you feel a renewed sense of purpose, knowing the next step is coming into focus.

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A week after the intense mission in Istanbul, everyone gathers in the briefing room, pouring over the latest intel reports the team itself has gathered while waiting for HQ's findings. The progress is disappointing—Aegis has gone quiet. Their network seems to have retracted, pulling resources and high-ranking members out of sight. It’s almost as if their encounter with Task Force 141 spooked them into hunkering down.

Price studies the map in front of him, a frown etched deeply into his face. “Looks like Aegis is trying to play it safe. They’ve pulled back any valuable assets. Istanbul’s gone cold.”

Soap leans back in his chair, letting out a low whistle. “Almost like they’re on to us, yeah? As if they know we’re here sniffin’ around.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Ghost says, crossing his arms. “They’ve always been good at keeping just out of reach.”

Price nods slowly, looking at each of you in turn. “This isn’t getting us anywhere. We’ve scoured every lead we had in Istanbul, but if Aegis is keeping low, we’re just spinning our wheels here.”

“So we pull out?” Gaz asks, sounding a little reluctant.

Price’s jaw tightens before he lets out a resigned sigh. “Aye. We regroup back at the main HQ, review the intel, and see what we can dig up once we’re back on our own turf. If Aegis resurfaces, we’ll be ready.”

You feel a mix of relief and frustration. On one hand, the thought of leaving Istanbul without a clear victory is disheartening; on the other, the relentless days and nights have worn you thin. You catch Ghost watching you from the corner of his eye, and you know he hasn’t forgotten your exhausted misstep on the last mission. Maybe pulling back isn’t the worst idea.

Price stands, dismissing the team. “Pack it up. We're flying in two hours.”

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Back on British soil, the familiar surroundings of the main base bring a strange sense of comfort. The hallways are quieter than the bustling streets of Istanbul, and the air feels less charged with tension. Still, the unresolved mystery of Aegis hangs over you all like a dark cloud.

You spend most of your first day back debriefing and sifting through what intel you gathered in Istanbul. While the team disperses to their respective quarters that evening, Price calls you into a conference room where Ghost is already waiting.

“We’re going to regroup, assess what we’ve got,” Price begins, looking between the two of you. “But while we’re back here, I want you both digging into anything that could link to Aegis. Old contacts, forgotten leads, even whispers you’ve heard from your past. We can’t let them slip through our fingers just because they’ve gone quiet.”

Ghost nods, his gaze focused and unreadable as ever. You feel his presence beside you, a constant reminder of the grudging partnership you’re both locked into. He’s quiet as Price outlines the plan, but you can sense the intensity beneath his stoic exterior.

When Price finally dismisses you, Ghost falls into step beside you in the hallway.

“You know what this means,” he says, his voice low and measured.

You glance up at him, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

“No more running on empty.” His tone is pointed, and you feel the weight of his earlier frustration still lingering in his words. “If we’re going after Aegis, I need you sharp, not half-dead from a lack of sleep.”

You open your mouth to argue, but his stare holds steady, and for once, you’re out of comebacks. Maybe he’s right. Istanbul was close, too close. If you’re going to face down Aegis, you need to be ready, fully prepared.

With a resigned sigh, you nod. “Fine. I’ll be ready.”

Ghost’s eyes linger on you for a beat longer than necessary, as if assessing whether you’re being sincere. He gives a curt nod, satisfied. “Good. Then let’s get to work.”

The hunt isn’t over yet—far from it. But with Task Force 141 at your side, and your resolve steeled, you feel a strange flicker of confidence. Aegis can try to hide, but they can’t run forever.

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When you’re shown to your quarters, a small, amused smile tugs at your lips. It’s the same room you were kept in last year, back when Kozlov’s case threw you headfirst into the chaos of the SAS and Task Force 141. Back then, this room had been a cage, a place where they held you in custody as both a suspect and a temporary asset, neither trusting you nor willing to let you walk away.

But now, stepping inside, the feeling is… different. It’s strange how much can change in a year. You’re still an outsider, technically speaking—still a mercenary with your own agenda and your own grudges to bear. But here, under the weight of the memories of that tense alliance with the SAS, you feel the difference. You’re no longer here out of necessity or suspicion. You’re here because you’re needed, a part of something that, in its own way, feels like it might actually have your back.

You drop your bag on the bed and scan the room, a flood of memories filling the empty space. The walls feel less confining now, less like they’re pressing in to remind you of every questionable choice that brought you here. There’s a strange warmth in knowing you’re trusted enough to roam freely this time, not a captive but an ally.

Leaning against the doorframe, you let out a quiet laugh. If someone had told you a year ago that you’d be willingly working with Task Force 141 again—especially Ghost, of all people—you’d have called them insane. But here you are, and even though the threat of Aegis looms just as dark and dangerous as before, you feel a sense of resolve settling in your bones. For the first time, the title “ally” doesn’t feel like a chain; it feels like a choice.

With that, you toss yourself onto the bed, letting yourself sink into the familiarity of it, not as an outsider or a prisoner but as someone who has fought with them, earned her place beside them—even if, at times, it feels like you’ve only just managed to keep up.

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Days slip by in a steady rhythm, quiet and uneventful—a rare stretch of calm that you hadn’t anticipated but can’t help appreciating. There’s no immediate mission, no dire orders waiting in the wings. You almost don’t know what to do with yourself without the constant pressure of survival and strategy weighing on your shoulders.

It’s a welcome change, really. For once, you have time to simply exist in one place without fear of attack or the ever-present anxiety that Aegis might be around the corner. Here, in the heart of the SAS base, you know they won’t get to you. Not with the layers of security, the trained eyes watching every corner, and the presence of Task Force 141 keeping things in check. You hadn’t realized just how exhausting it was to live with that constant threat on your back—how much it had worn you down until now, when you could finally breathe a little easier.

And the days of rest are doing their work. The wound on your shoulder, a stinging reminder of that reckless call during the last mission, is healing steadily. At first, the pain had flared up with every movement, a sharp reminder of the risk you’d taken for Ghost. Now, though, the ache is dulling, settling into a faint throb that only bothers you when you forget it’s there. You’ve been able to patch it up, tend to it properly, and let your body rest—something you haven’t allowed yourself in far too long.

In a way, it’s ironic that the safest you’ve felt in years is here, surrounded by soldiers who were once ready to interrogate you, in a base that was once meant to hold you captive. Yet, with each day that passes, you feel yourself easing into this strange routine, letting down your guard little by little. The thought of Aegis creeping closer doesn’t linger as it once did; for now, you know you’re out of their reach. As long as you’re here, protected and hidden within these walls, they can’t touch you.

Every so often, you catch yourself almost… enjoying it, this sense of quiet security. It’s unfamiliar, this feeling of not having to look over your shoulder or map out an escape plan. For once, you can simply heal, both in body and mind, without the shadow of Aegis looming close. And as strange as it feels, you allow yourself to embrace it, even if it’s only for a little while.

You’re making your way through the base, aimlessly wandering to pass the time, when the low thud of weights and the soft hum of grunts from the training area catches your attention. Curiosity gets the better of you, and you follow the sounds, your steps quieter as you approach.

And there, across the room, is Ghost—his focus entirely on the barbell in front of him as he lifts it with practiced strength. He’s shirtless, a rarity you’ve never quite had the opportunity to witness, and for a second, you’re almost stunned into place. The soft sheen of sweat glistens on his skin, tracing the defined lines of his muscles as he moves, each lift accentuating the raw strength in his arms, chest, and shoulders. He’s a fortress of a man, each muscle honed and cut, but it’s not just the sheer size of him—it’s the quiet, unwavering power in the way he works, every motion controlled, almost methodical.

Your gaze trails from his shoulders down to the faint scars that mar his skin, stories etched into his body that you know only hint at what he’s seen. His biceps flex with each lift, veins standing out against his forearms, and you can’t help but let your eyes linger. There’s a pull to him, this silent allure that makes it hard to look away. You’re drawn in by the way he moves, powerful yet careful, as though he’s attuned to every shift in his muscles, every beat of his own strength.

And the mask—he’s still wearing it, a reminder that even here, stripped of nearly everything else, he still keeps part of himself hidden. There’s something strangely endearing about it, almost funny in a way, that he’s still clinging to this one piece of armor. But it adds to the enigma of him, this contrast of being both revealed and guarded, and the sight makes your stomach flutter in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

Your eyes wander over the expanse of his shoulders, tracing the lines of his tattoos that weave across his skin. They’re intricate, dark swirls of ink that curl over his biceps and up along his forearms, striking against his skin in a way that only adds to his mystique. You can’t help but feel a sense of awe at how the designs accentuate the muscle beneath, each tattoo seeming to carry its own story—a past he never talks about but is forever etched into him.

The ink follows the contours of his arms, slipping beneath the mask of sweat and shadow as he moves, and you realize how each mark, each line, only amplifies that unapproachable air he carries. The tattoos make him look even more dangerous, more untamed, yet there’s an undeniable allure to them, a kind of dark art that keeps you captivated. You’re struck by how fitting they seem on him, how seamlessly they blend with the person he is—enigmatic, guarded, and quietly powerful.

As he lowers the barbell and finally catches sight of you, you feel yourself snap back to reality, heat rising in your cheeks when you realize just how openly you were staring. He tilts his head slightly, and you catch the faint glimmer of amusement in his eyes, half hidden behind the shadows of his mask.

“Somethin’ interestin’?” he asks, his tone low but edged with a challenge.

Your heart skips a beat, but you somehow manage to keep your cool, shrugging as casually as you can. “Just admiring the…artwork,” you reply, unable to stop the hint of a grin from tugging at your lips.

He huffs softly, grabbing a towel and running it over his arms, brushing over those very tattoos you were just admiring. “Didn’t peg you for a fan,” he mutters, but there’s a spark in his eyes, as if he finds it amusing that you’re drawn in by something so personal to him.

You feel a flicker of nerves as you meet his gaze, aware of the way he’s watching you now, the barest suggestion of a smirk pulling at his lips. It’s like he knows exactly the effect he’s having on you, and there’s something undeniably thrilling about it.

Caught off guard by your own thoughts, you can’t help but let out a soft chuckle under your breath at the absurdity of it. Here you are, shamelessly ogling the one person who’s probably lectured you the hardest about staying sharp. And yet, there’s something about seeing him like this, so intensely alive and real, that makes it hard to think about anything else.

You raise an eyebrow, recovering just enough to give a smirk. “Didn’t mean to intrude.”

“Always do,” he replies, a faint challenge in his eyes. He grabs a towel, running it over his arms and chest before casually throwing it around his shoulders. His gaze stays on you, unreadable, and you feel a pang of nerves twist in your stomach.

“Well, I’d hate to disturb your… intense routine,” you manage, trying for a light tone even as your pulse quickens.

He only grunts, but there’s a slight twitch in the corner of his mouth that suggests a smile. “Could use a spotter next time,” he says, deadpan, though his eyes hold a hint of mischief.

It’s a simple moment, laced with more tension than you’d expected, but there’s something unmistakable in the way he looks at you—something that leaves your heart thudding a bit faster as you return his gaze.

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Later in the day, you and Ghost are in the operations room, pouring over files and databases, the air thick with tension. Hours have passed, and the list of potential Aegis operatives and higher-ups sprawls across the screen. You’re deep in focus, building a list of names when Ghost leans over your shoulder, his usual presence looming a little closer than necessary.

“Gonna check the background on each name?” he remarks, voice laced with skepticism. “Doesn’t do us much good if they’re not active in the field anymore.”

You close your eyes for a moment, suppressing the urge to sigh. “Yes, Ghost, I know what I’m doing. This is just a preliminary list. I’ll get to backgrounds in a second.”

“Preliminary doesn’t mean sloppy,” he mutters, and you swear he’s leaning even closer. “Miss one detail, and we’re back at square one. We can’t afford any mistakes.”

You turn to glare at him, trying to ignore how close he is. “I’m not being sloppy. I’m gathering leads. You could always give me five minutes to breathe without hovering.”

He raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms with that infuriatingly stoic expression. “Not hovering. Just making sure we don’t waste time on mistakes. Aegis doesn’t let anything slip, so neither should we.”

“Oh, I get it.” You sit back, crossing your arms with a smirk. “You’re just this nitpicky with everyone, yeah?”

Ghost’s gaze narrows. “If you’re looking for me to tell you ‘good job’ for half-finished work, you’re gonna be disappointed.”

You roll your eyes, leaning in with a playful, challenging grin. “You know, you’re awfully invested in how I do my job. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were just trying to spend more time with me.”

For a second, he looks taken aback—just for a split second before he schools his expression. “If that’s what you need to tell yourself to focus, go right ahead.” He steps back, but his eyes are still fixed on you with that intense, unyielding look. “This isn’t about me, it’s about doing it right.”

You let out a small laugh, tilting your head at him. “Uh-huh. So you’re hovering because you don’t want to spend time with me. Got it. This is about quality control, not about you caring so much about what I’m doing that you can’t stay away. Makes sense.”

He doesn’t reply at first, just lets out a low, exasperated sigh, but you catch the hint of a smirk tugging at the edge of his mask. “Believe what you want, but if you screw this up, I’m not pulling you out of the mess.”

“Because you’d just hate to see me fail, wouldn’t you?” you tease, leaning back in your chair with a challenging grin.

“Failing’s not your issue,” he replies, his tone smooth. “Getting distracted is.”

“Oh, really?” You mirror his expression with a raised brow. “Last time I checked, you’re the one causing the distraction.”

Ghost huffs, crossing his arms, and his gaze is unwavering. “If you spent as much time working as you do trying to rile me up, you might actually get something done.”

“Maybe I just work best under pressure,” you reply, shrugging with mock innocence.

“Then consider this a performance review.” He pauses, his voice softer but still with an edge. “For the record, I’ll be watching.”

You chuckle, rolling your eyes but feeling the lingering warmth of his gaze. For all the back-and-forth, the tension between you doesn’t feel quite as sharp. It’s there, but lighter, laced with something almost fun, a reminder that even amidst the mission, you’re not just rivals but two people with a shared drive.

Just as the tension between you and Ghost reaches a lull, Soap bursts into the room, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Oi, lovebirds, wrap it up!” he announces, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. “We’re headin’ out tonight. Pub in town. Price gave the go-ahead, so consider it an order to blow off some steam.”

You blink in surprise, barely processing Soap’s words before he adds, “Come on, we’re all going—no excuses.”

“Pub night, huh?” Ghost’s voice has a rare note of interest, and he actually seems…enthusiastic? His gaze flickers to you, the edge in his expression softening. “Been a while since we had a proper night out.”

You raise an eyebrow, trying to picture him in a more casual setting. “Didn’t peg you for someone who’d enjoy a pub crawl, Ghost.”

He shrugs, crossing his arms. “I don’t mind a pint every now and then. Especially after dealing with you.”

A smirk tugs at your lips. “Well, the feeling’s mutual,” you retort, but there’s a warmth to it. Maybe it’s the idea of seeing a different side of him outside the usual grind.

Soap grins, nodding approvingly. “That’s what I like to hear. Now go on—get yourselves outta those uniforms and into something halfway decent. We’re out the door in an hour.”

As he leaves, you catch a flicker of amusement in Ghost’s eyes. “Guess we better not keep them waiting,” he says, his tone almost teasing.

You tilt your head, still a bit surprised by his openness to the idea. “Guess I’ll have to see what ‘relaxed Ghost’ looks like.”

He chuckles, a low, rumbling sound. “Don’t get your hopes up. But maybe you’ll see me a bit more…human.”

It’s a surprising statement from him, one that lingers as he gives you a nod and heads off to get ready, leaving you with a sense of anticipation you hadn’t expected.

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The pub is warm and bustling, a far cry from the quiet and regimented SAS base. The dim lights, hum of chatter, and scent of wood polish mixed with spilled beer create an atmosphere of easygoing revelry. You’re seated with the team at a table near the corner, where Ghost and Price lean back in their seats, both relaxed yet observant. You glance at Ghost, surprised by how much more at ease he seems here. There’s still an edge to him, but he doesn’t look like he’s on guard in the same way.

Soap, on the other hand, has made it his mission to kick off the evening with as many pints as he can get his hands on. He slams his drink down on the table, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Right, here’s a thought for you lot,” he says, his Scottish accent thickening with each drink. “If a merc like you could get Ghost to crack a smile, that’d be somethin’ of a miracle.”

Gaz raises an eyebrow, grinning. “I’d say we’ve got better odds of winning the lottery.”

You smirk, nudging Soap’s shoulder. “Please, I think I’ve done that already. He’s just hiding it under that mask of his.”

Ghost narrows his eyes, though there’s a hint of intrigue. “Careful what you wish for. Smiling from me might send you running.”

Soap grins mischievously, leaning in as if he’s about to share a grand secret. “You know, mate, I reckon you’d look downright charming if you let loose a little. Flash those pearly whites, give the ladies a thrill.”

Ghost shakes his head, deadpan. “The day I take advice on charm from you, Johnny, is the day hell freezes over.”

Price chuckles, raising his glass. “Don’t think there’s anyone here who’d survive if Ghost suddenly turned on the charm.”

Soap raises his glass in agreement, a wicked glint in his eye as he points it at you. “Oi, what about our resident mercenary? Bet you’ve got a right bloody wild side we haven’t seen yet, eh? All that time sneakin’ around with Aegis—you must have some stories.”

You roll your eyes, pretending to think. “Wouldn’t you like to know?"

Gaz smirks, chiming in. “What, afraid to tell us? Must be some top-secret stuff. C’mon, give us a little taste.”

You shrug with a mischievous smile. “Only if Ghost spills his secrets first.”

All eyes turn to Ghost, who gives the barest shake of his head, clearly unimpressed. “Secrets? You lot wouldn’t last a minute with half of ‘em.”

Soap snorts. “Oh, big man’s too mysterious for us, is he?”

Ghost glances over, voice low but steady. “If you’re keen to learn, there’s plenty I could teach. But somehow I don’t think you’ve got the spine for it, Johnny.”

The table erupts into laughter, and Soap throws his hands up in mock surrender. “Easy, Ghost! I’ll pass on the torture sessions, thanks.”

Grinning, you look over at Ghost, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t know, Ghost. You think he could handle it?”

Ghost meets your gaze with that intense stare, and there’s the faintest flicker of mirth behind it. “Not a chance.”

Price chuckles, taking a sip of his drink. “Here’s what I’m curious about,” he says, looking at you. “You keep trading barbs with Ghost like it’s second nature. Takes a special kind of person to keep up with him.”

You tilt your head, a playful glint in your eye. “What can I say? I like a challenge.”

Soap cackles, slapping the table. “Oh-ho! Listen to that, Ghost. She’s got your number.”

“Is that right?” Ghost replies, his tone dry.

You lean in, unphased. “You can try and intimidate me all you want, but I’m still here, aren’t I?”

Ghost looks at you, one corner of his mouth tugging up in the faintest hint of a smirk. “For now.”

Gaz laughs, clapping a hand on your shoulder. “See, I knew it! We’ve got ourselves a real daredevil here.”

“Right,” Soap says, raising his glass high. “Here’s to this mad lot—ain’t a soul here with sense, and thank God for it.”

Everyone raises their glasses, and even Ghost gives a small nod of approval as he lifts his drink. You clink glasses, the laughter and ribbing reminding you that, somehow, you’ve found a place among this group of misfits.

As the night goes on, the drinks flow and the banter gets bolder. At one point, you lean back with a mischievous glint in your eye, glancing over at Ghost. “Alright, I’ve got a question for you. Be honest—is Ghost really your name? Or is it just to keep everyone guessing?”

There’s a pause as the whole table goes quiet. Soap nearly chokes on his drink, barely containing his laughter as he looks between you and Ghost. “Oh, aye, that’s a good one!” he says, slapping the table. “Imagine his ma callin’ him Ghost. ‘Time for supper, Ghostie boy!’”

Gaz bites back a grin, chiming in. “That's sounds a little bit too accurate, no?"

Price chuckles but keeps his face straight. “You’re barking up the wrong tree there,” he says in a low, amused tone, glancing knowingly at Ghost.

Ghost just stares back at you, his expression as closed-off as ever, though you could swear you see the faintest flicker of amusement in his eyes. “You’re asking all the wrong questions,” he replies coolly. “Keep dreaming, though. Might even let you think you’re getting close.”

You roll your eyes, leaning back in your seat with a half-smile. “Fine, keep your mystery,” you say, as if you’re letting him win the round. “But one day, I’ll get it out of you.”

The table erupts in laughter, and Soap shakes his head, giving you a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “Good luck, lass. Took me years to even learn his favorite color.”

You laugh along with the others, but as the night settles, it hits you: they know things about Ghost that you’re nowhere close to finding out. If you want to be someone he trusts, someone he’d share even the smallest parts of himself with, it’s going to be a long journey.

But, sitting here with the team, sharing laughs and drinks, you think maybe, just maybe, that’s a road you’re willing to travel.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The walk back to base is quiet, the night air crisp and cool after the warmth of the pub. The team trails off one by one to their respective quarters, with Ghost hanging back to make sure you make it to yours. You’re a bit buzzed, not quite unsteady, but everything’s a touch softer at the edges, and you can’t help but notice how large his presence feels next to you as he walks silently, hands in his pockets.

When you finally stop at your door, you fumble a little with your keycard, squinting as you try to slide it into the card reader. You can feel Ghost watching, arms crossed, probably waiting for you to admit defeat and hand him the keycard, but you’re determined to manage it on your own.

Of course, in your tipsy state, your balance betrays you. You stumble, and before you even realize it, Ghost’s hands are on your shoulders, steadying you as you fall back against him. His touch is firm and unyielding, but there’s something… soft in the way he keeps you close, ensuring you don’t lose your footing completely. You blink, surprised by the solidness of him, and he doesn’t step away immediately. His expression is unreadable, eyes shadowed beneath his mask, but his hands don’t move from your shoulders.

Without thinking, you tilt your head back, squinting up at him. “Oh, look at you, all grumpy as usual.”

“Grumpy, huh?” he replies, one brow arched beneath the mask, his tone teasing but laced with something else.

“Yeah, always brooding, always scowling. What’s your deal?” You poke lightly at his mask, as if you were trying to pry something out of him. “You’re always hiding something, aren’t you?”

His hand moves to your face, cupping your cheek gently, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. His gaze drops to your eyes, studying you more intently now, like he’s taking in how badly you’re buzzed, how off-kilter your thoughts are. His fingers linger there for a moment longer than you expect, his touch gentle yet possessive. For a heartbeat, it feels like the world has shrunk to just the two of you, his presence overwhelming and solid, his mask hiding everything but the emotion in his eyes. It’s an unspoken understanding, but it also feels like something more.

You don’t pull away. Instead, your eyes stay fixed on his, and the alcohol loosens your tongue even further. “Why do you always look so grumpy?” you murmur, half-joking. “You really think you’re that scary, huh?”

He chuckles, low and rough, breaking the tension. “Maybe it’s just how I look,” he answers, but there’s an amused gleam in his eyes now, something different from earlier.

You shake your head, not letting him off the hook so easily. “No, you look like you’re hiding something. But you don’t need to, you know?”

There’s another long pause between you, his thumb still brushing against your cheek, and the closeness has your breath catching in your chest. You can’t quite place what it is, but something shifts in the air, something that makes your heart race faster.

Leaning in just a little, you murmur, “You know… you’re actually really handsome, Ghost.”

His eyes widen just the slightest bit, the expression behind his mask shifting into something unreadable, but it doesn’t stop him from holding you there, his hand still cupping your face. “Is that so?” he murmurs, voice deeper now, amused and almost… pleased?

“Yeah, you’ve got that whole mysterious, dark vibe going for you,” you say, your gaze drifting down to his chest as you sway slightly on your feet. “Don’t let it go to your head, though,” you add with a half-smile, trying to lighten the moment, “but it’s true.”

There aren’t many moments you’ve seen Ghost without his mask—just enough for you to count with your fingers. Mostly, it’s been during meals, those rare occasions when he’s forced to shed the barrier between him and the world. You can’t help but notice each time he does; how could you not?

The first time you saw him without the mask, you felt a jolt of surprise. His face was striking in ways that you hadn’t expected—strong, sharp features that seemed carved from stone. His jawline was all hard angles, his eyes intense and deeper than they seemed when half-shaded by the mask. But what drew your gaze more than anything was the scar on his left cheek, a thin, pale line running down just shy of his jaw. It looked like a relic from some old battle, faded but unmissable, giving his face a harsher, almost haunted edge.

And yet, that scar softened something too. It hinted at a history, at moments he’s endured that you could only guess at. You’ve never asked him about it—he’d probably shut down if you tried—but each time you’ve seen his face, you’ve memorized it just a little more. His gaze always flickers away when he catches you looking, but you can’t help noticing the smallest details: the faint crease between his brows when he’s deep in thought, the way his mouth barely tilts when someone cracks a joke he finds halfway amusing. He always brings the mask back up quickly, as if remembering the distance he needs to maintain.

Each time he lifts that mask, you feel as if you’re glimpsing something guarded, something that only a rare few have ever seen. And even though he never lets you linger on it for long, the memory of his face—scar, guarded eyes, the subtle but undeniable humanity there—lingers with you.

His fingers tighten just a fraction, his grip still gentle but more assertive now, like he’s grounding you in this moment. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he replies, the playful edge to his voice now tinged with something else. Something closer to appreciation, or maybe… curiosity?

Before you can say anything else, his thumb drifts slowly, tracing the line of your cheekbone, then gliding downward until it rests just at the corner of your mouth. You feel the warmth of his skin through the fabric of the glove, so close you can almost imagine his bare touch, imagine the weight and warmth without the barrier.

He studies you with an intensity that makes your pulse race, his gaze drifting from your eyes to where his thumb hovers over your lips. His gloved hand is careful but certain, as if he's savoring each detail. Slowly, his thumb meets your bottom lip, light enough to make you shiver, but there’s a sense of restraint in the gesture, like he’s letting himself test boundaries. He brushes along the edge of your bottom lip in a slow, careful sweep, almost as if he’s mapping it out, savoring the softness beneath his touch. He’s close enough that you can see the way his gaze darkens, focused entirely on you, on the way his thumb drags so gently across your lip. Each pass is deliberate, his touch achingly slow, as if he’s caught somewhere between curiosity and something deeper—something he won’t admit, not out loud.

His fingers trace down your jaw, but his thumb stays at your mouth, brushing with a gentleness that makes your heart pound, your breath catching just slightly at each delicate movement. You feel his eyes watching the way your lips part under his touch, as though he’s fascinated, as if each soft curve and line of your mouth is something he’s committing to memory.

The air between you is thick with the weight of things unspoken, a tension you can’t ignore. His touch remains tender but holds a barely restrained intensity, his thumb finally pausing at the center of your lip, resting there like he’s weighing his next move. His gaze is fixed there, as if you’re some intriguing mystery he can’t help but explore. You stand frozen, unable to process the moment. Nobody has ever touched you like this, like you’re an enigma trying to be deciphered. Nobody ever bothered to.

You close your eyes, accepting the strange intimacy of his touch. Your heart beats fast, your hands almost clammy, but you don’t want to pull away. Almost instinctively, you let your lips press softly against his thumb, giving it a light, chaste peck.

You slowly open your eyes, searching his face for a reaction. Did that small gesture bother him? Make him angry? Maybe you went too far. But the moment your gaze locks with his, your doubts crumble. His eyes are dark, intense, almost... possessive. Longing. This isn’t the Ghost you know—the one who watches you with cold, calculating eyes, ready to nitpick your every move, sometimes even with a hint of regret, as if he thinks bringing you back here was a mistake.

Right now, he’s looking at you differently. He’s looking at you like you’re somebody. Like you mean something. Like you’re not just a piece on this chessboard that everyone else is playing.

He’s seeing you.

And it terrifies you.

As if snapping yourself from a dream, you take a quick step back, chuckling awkwardly to break the tension. “Remind me never to drink with you lot again.”

Ghost seems to snap back to reality at the same moment you do, but there’s a flicker of frustration in his eyes, a strain in how his jaw clenches. He doesn’t say anything, and neither do you. Instead, you take a slow breath, grounding yourself as best you can, then slide the keycard through the reader with a soft beep.

Before you step inside, you glance over your shoulder at him, catching that dark, unreadable look he wears all too well. “Thanks… for walking me to my room,” you murmur, trying to sound casual, like nothing strange just happened.

He nods, barely a movement, but there’s something in his silence that feels heavier than usual, as if he’s holding something back. He lingers for a split second before turning, walking back down the hallway, his steps fading into the distance.

Once the door shuts behind you, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. You lean back against the door, then slowly sink down to the floor, pulling your knees up and resting your forehead against them. Your face is practically burning. Just a few simple touches, a look, and yet here you are, feeling like everything you thought you knew has shifted. It’s hard to explain what exactly happened, even to yourself. But whatever it was, it’s left your heart pounding and your mind spinning with thoughts you can’t quite put into words.

A soft, bewildered smile plays on your lips as you sit there, alone in the quiet, feeling both terrified and somehow… happy.

[cigarettedolly13]

ATP I feel like no matter who wins this election shit is still gonna get pretty bad because what the fuck is going on with the DNC? Why is Israel like…the hill these people are willing to die on? I don’t get it. It would only benefit them politically to support an arms embargo on Israel I mean most of us don’t want our money going to fund wars anyway, and I mean it could EASILY make them actually look better than Trump considering Trump unconditionally supports Israel and is Netanyahu’s favorite candidate. Why are the democrats insisting on staying pro war and being pro military and all that shit when they know we’re sick and tired of them blowing all our tax money on wars? I mean can they not get money from anywhere besides AIPAC??? Can they not just like…like why do they wanna be Hillary Clinton and her stupid husband so bad???? And not to mention all that shit about them not even let a Palestinian speak at the fucking DNC stage??? The person who wanted to speak wasn’t even against the democrats and would’ve only brought attention and humanity to the Palestinians who’ve been suffering for the past 10 months, I did read the speech btw she uploaded it online in case anyone else wanted to read it, BUT YEAH! I’m just so fucking frustrated and sick of this fucking government refusing to listen or work with progressives or pro Palestine activists. Was spending the last 20 fucking years terrorizing Iraq, Afghanistan, Syria, and others for oil just not enough?????? Why do we need to keep having these endless fucking wars? There’s no fucking reason for this other than the US government on both sides, red and blue are bloodthirsty egomaniac greedy bastards. I’m tired of this. And those motherfuckers making fun of dead Palestinians will NOT see the gates of Heaven. I am not even religious but lord if there’s a heaven they’re not walking through the gates. They will show up at the gates of Heaven and fall through the trap door to the other side (okay maybe that won’t happen but still) I’m just disgusted by these people, and no I don’t think Trump should be president either btw I think Republicans are just as guilty and cartoonishly evil considering Reagan was the reason a lot of this mess started in the first place and they hate everybody anyway. But like…this is just frustrating. I hate seeing the Overton window shift further right in real time. If I wanted to go back to the Bush era I would build a goddamn Time Machine and hop my ass back to the year 2001, I’ll even bring my low rise jeans and baby tees so I can fit in while I watch Bush ruin the country. I’m just…

[storiesbyrhi]

Witch!Reader x Bat/Vampire!Eddie Munson Series Masterlist The Grimoire The Timeline

Warnings: canon typical violence, horror genre typical violence, swearing, animal death, no beta, warnings updated each chapter.

Synopsis: No witch has stepped foot in Hawkins since 1845, but when Vecna opens the ground and poisons the town, a voice begins to call to you. Have you been brought back to this cursed place to heal the townspeople’s wounds, to save a hexed bat that always finds its way to you, or to redefine your history with a reunion 150 years in the making?

Chapter Summary: Bury a candle and give allegiance. 2740 words.

1986

Time had passed since you’d delivered the final line of the spell. Nine minutes, to be precise. You’d said the words, then got off your knees to sit more comfortably on the tiles, your back to the wall. Edward sunk into the bath, letting the water come up to his shoulders.

“We’re almost done,” you whispered. “You have to bury the candle.”

As he dried off and dressed, you retrieved a glass from the kitchen while making a mental note to add clothes to your shopping list.

Carrying the glass of the powered bathwater, you lead the way outside, through Forest Hills, and out to the small wooded area you’d first crossed paths with him. A few neighbours watched you as you went by, but most were busy packing to leave Hawkins.

The vampire dug a small hole and placed the candle in it, then took the glass of water and poured that on top. He covered it up and stood by your side.

“It’s done,” you confirmed. “How do you feel?”

He considered the question for a moment. “The same,”

“You don’t remember anything else?”

Shaking his head, he looked at you. “I’m sorry,”

“What? What are you sorry for?”

“I wasn’t your burden to bear,” he offered. “You do not owe me anything.”

You felt you did though. It was a deep and profound feeling. One that somehow surpassed everything you knew to be true about vampires. It surpassed witch allegiance, seeing you undo another’s hex. And it surpassed both your innate need to protect living creatures and your oath to harm none.

There had to be a reason, but searching for the meaning was a dangerous road to go down. It was a luxury too, one that Hawkins would not afford you.

“We should go home,” you said. “We have a lot to talk about.”

…

1836

“You would never tell me a lie, would you?” You fluttered your eyelashes.

“Me? Deceive you? My beloved little witch? Never.” Although there was levity in his voice, you knew he was being truthful.

“So, then you can confess to me. You can transform into a bat!”

Eddie laughed. “I promise you, I cannot,”

“But the stories!”

“And what of the witches in the stories?” he counterargued, rolling onto his side.

It was past midnight and you were lying together beneath an old oak tree. The ground was still warm, fall not yet prickling the dark with a cool change.

Eddie reached out to gently touch your face. His skin was cold, but it made you flush hot.

“Vampires are very boring,” you teased.

“Imagine my good fortune then, being bound to bore for all eternity, only to find you.”

A day had not passed by since that first kiss without you sneaking off after dark to meet with Eddie. The sun has risen and set no less than sixty days.

In the moonlight you listened to Eddie tell you how he came to be a vampire, how he was damned, amoral, and evil like the others. You knew he was different. It did not matter what he had done, it mattered what he was doing. He hadn’t hunted any of the villagers who lived unaware of such beasts, nor the Native Americans who knew a monster when they saw one.

You knew there were things Eddie kept hidden. How, sometimes he ushered you back to the village earlier than usual, and he’d hunt elsewhere. Inhuman speed allowing him to travel great distances quickly. No, your vampire was not on an animal diet. It was something left unspoken between you.

Instead, you spoke about the places you had been and how the world use to be. You theorised about the future, about how the 1800s would end and what the 1900s would look like. “I cannot picture you in the year 2000,” you said as you sat up.

“No?”

You crossed your legs and Eddie shuffled to lay his head in your lap. As you began to braid sections of his long hair, you tried to imagine it. “Well, we change with the world…”

“I can change with the world,” he argued.

“Can you? How many days did it take for you to answer to Eddie,”

“But I answer to it now,”

“True. You do.” You leaned down to place a kiss on his forehead. He smiled, his upper canines slotting neatly into the lower. “Would you answer to it when you’re in your bat form?”

Eddie moved quick, had your fingers between his teeth. There was no pressure, you could take them back at any moment. He looked up at you with his dark eyes, something feral and held in reserve glinting through. He let your hand go.

“If I could do that, would I not be hidden in your pocket all the time?”

Giggling, you nodded. “You would. I would like that,”

“No bats. No… garlic undoings…” He tried to think of all the falsehoods. “Nor beds of soil from the grounds of our deaths. Nor hawthorn. Nor insight into your thoughts…”

It was terrifying, how little of the stories were true. What did that leave known about the vampires?

“Can I protect the humans by telling them not to invite anyone over the threshold of their homes? By arming them with blessed water?”

Eddie’s smile dropped. “Protect them from me?”

“No… Not you. But-”

“My kind… The colony…” He sat up and looked at you.

“I will not feel guilt for this,”

“I wouldn’t expect a witch to feel guilt about anything. The spoils of the righteous,”

“Eddie,” you whispered, reaching out for him.

He flinched, at first. A darkness settled over him. He was still in absolute.

“The colony – are they your family?” you asked.

“If they are, will you tell your coven to stop the hunt?”

It was the first acknowledgment of both Eddie’s colony and the coven’s hunt for them.

A vampire’s warning always comes in the death of livestock. Vicious killings of cows and lamb. They had been infrequent, not enough to alarm the farmers. The witches wove fact with fiction to keep the peace. It had been three seasons since the first lost sheep.

That is why you weren’t surprised by the vampire when you first crossed paths.

There was a limit to how many animals a witch would let die so brutally. Eddie’s colony had yet to reach it. Likewise, they had not brought harm to any townspeople. Until those conditions were met, the witches only prepared for the hunt. They sharpened their weapons and perfected their spells. They would lay in wait until then.

“There will be no hunting unless-”

“When,” Eddie interrupted. “When they come upon your village like a plague or Pestilence himself in the night, it won’t matter if they are kin.”

Your eyes had welled up. “No,” you agreed as a tear slipped down your cheek. “I will protect the humans.”

Eddie nodded slowly, then took your hand and let you cup his face. He closed his eyes. “Little witch. I envy your world of absolutes. And I love you so.”

When he took you in his arms, you held on tight, refusing to let him go until the first songs of the morning birds sang misery.

…

1986

“So, I keep trying to call you… Edward… in my head, but it’s not sticking,” you admitted as you checked the temperature of the water in the kettle, putting it back on the stove to reach boiling point. “So, maybe we’ll need that nickname after all,”

“Nickname?”

“Yeah, I mean, you do look like an Edward. But the only people that would go by Edward now are, um, the elderly, and while me and you both technically count… let’s try to keep you as inconspicuous as possible.”

Back inside the trailer, the vampire had sat on the couch, tried his hand at looking normal. It was coming back to him, how to move in this body and how to find his words.

While you mentally added ‘nice tea’ to your ever-growing shopping list, you continued on your train of thought. “But, you’re lucky, because Edward, Ed, Eddie, easy. Take your pick.”

He only took a few seconds. “Eddie,” he decided, waiting on you for approval.

“Eddie…” You looked at him from the kitchen bench, how he was watching you intently. Nodding once you turned away as the kettle whistled.

With your mug of tea warming your palms, you sat on the couch next to Eddie. Pulling your legs up and crossing them, you shuffled around to face him.

“You should go first… Have you remembered anything else?”

“No,” he said quietly. “I… I’ve been here for many, many years,”

“Longer than the humans?”

“No… The humans have always been here. Not as they are now though. They were once… quiet. And they…” Eddie struggled to explain how it used to be. “They have changed the land,”

“They have,” you replied. “They used to know better. They… They know, now. It’s like they’ve forgotten to care.”

Eddie could hear the sadness in your voice. Did he feel empathy… or was it simple recognition? “You love them,” he stated.

“I did once. I don’t know if love is what I would call it anymore. It’s complicated. Do you remember that about witches? That we watch over the humans?”

Eddie’s gaze wandered up and away as he searched through his mind. “Maybe… Yes… That is why we…” As his sentence failed, you saw an expression creep over his features. It was the first time he looked truly vampiric. It wasn’t a smile. It was a knowing smirk. “We are not friends,” Eddie finished, his eyes snapping back to yours suddenly.

“Do you remember what happened to the vampires?” The need to assert yourself as not only a healing witch, but as a dangerous thing too bubbled up in you.

“No,”

“There are no more. Not anywhere on this earth.”

Eddie’s head tilted and his little grin fell. “Vampires cannot be killed,”

“You couldn’t. Not a stake through the heart or even sunlight. But we figured it out,”

“We?”

The tension was rising but you held steady, refusing to feel regret or fear. “Witches spent eons hunting vampires who hunted humans. Covens got so close to working out how to properly kill… them. But it was my coven, here in Hawkins, that did it. It was more than a lifetime ago, but it still feels… recent, I guess.”

Eddie’s stare was unblinking. “Clever witches,” he whispered. “I was… hexed… before that then,”

“Yeah. They would have just killed you otherwise,” you confirmed.

Eddie remembered to blink. He nodded. “And what year is it now?”

“1986.”

There was knowledge stored in his cells. Small pieces of information in his biology, but not much. Just… vampire. Blood. Apex, cannot be killed. Walk by moonlight. Don’t trust a witch. The thought led Eddie to his first question for you.

“Why help me?”

“I… I didn’t know what you were.  I thought you were just an injured bat,”

“But you didn’t stop… helping me. When you knew.”

You opened your mouth to speak but got caught wordless. Shrugging, you shook your head. “I don’t know.”

Eddie wanted to force more out of you. He wanted to know what would possess a witch to resurrect an already defeated enemy. He wanted to know what it felt like to hand over the dog. He wanted to know how often hexes were reversed.

The wetness of your eyes and the shaky breath you were trying to even, they made him settle for an ‘I don’t know.’

“Next question. Do you know about what’s happening here? The evil?”

“It has been here for a long time,” Eddie answered with a slow nod.

You cocked your head. “Have you seen him?”

“Him?”

“Uh, the humans call him Vecna. He’s something else. Not like us,” you told him.

Eddie smiled. “How are we alike?”

“Oh… I guess… I guess we’re not. I meant, he was somehow made, by other humans… But… so are vampires… So was the first vampire,”

“The evil is like me,”

“No. It’s different.” It was getting under your skin, the comparison between Eddie and Vecna. Why though? “I wish I knew more. But whatever doorway was opened, it’s not one witches can see through. All I know is that there is world beyond this one and he hides there. He travels through the mind and has power over people. He’s already killed people and hurt more.”

Eddie thought of the white long-limbed creature with its face of teeth. The monster made of humans, how it snapped and crushed. They had been visible from the sky; he’d tailed the chaos as a bat. Vecna had never shown himself like those things had.

“Where are the witches?” Eddie asked.

“They are… not coming. As far as we can tell, Vecna doesn’t know about us. Or anything supernatural beyond his own world. The coven fears if he discovers it, he’ll either try to drain our power or kill us all. Or both,”

“And what of the humans?”

Despite the questions being entirely valid, you felt interrogated. “They have won before. More than once,”

“And if they fail?”

You sucked in your bottom lip and chewed while you formulated a response. “The coven will intervene… They won’t let him go further than Hawkins,”

“You do not sound convinced,” Eddie observed.

“I will intervene. I will protect the humans.”

Eddie’s instincts told him that witches were steadfast in their conventions. Virtuous and stubborn. Yet, every rule you had, you’d seemed to have already broken or committed to doing so. He couldn’t remember if he was meant to feel. Was he meant to like you, to show preference at all? You were so flawed though and it endeared him to you.

“If it comes to that, I will help you…” He didn't say your name. It didn't feel right on his tongue. There’s something else there though, living on the tip of it. It’s lost. Trapped in the memories your spell couldn’t bring back.

You nodded and gave him a forced smile. Vecna hurt to think about. The children hurt to think about; Erica Sinclair at age eleven.

“Something called me here,” you said suddenly. You were caught off guard by your own admission. “To Hawkins. My coven thinks it’s… not haunted, but something like that. None of us have been back since we left. But when Vecna did what he did, I started to hear it,”

“The calling,”

“Yeah. When prolific events happen, it unsettles everything. What he did to the earth and to his victims… It could have changed something. Let me hear something I couldn’t before.” Part of you was simply thinking out loud, a stream of consciousness that finally had an audience in Eddie. And, an attentive audience at that.

Eddie had relaxed back into the couch like he’d grown up on that very one. Every minute he spent reinhabiting his old body was comfort. He was watching you still, those dark eyes trained on your changing expressions and lively movements.

“When you hear it, does it have a voice?” he asked you.

“Almost? It almost did… Just like there were almost words. But… it was… I don’t know. Like someone else’s thoughts in my head. But it stopped when I got here. I kind of sold this whole thing to myself as following that voice. That it had to mean something. But now it’s gone. And I don’t know if it was him… or…”

“Me,” Eddie finished for you.

You nodded. “But you… you didn’t,”

“I don’t have magic,” he reminded you. “And I was… just a bat,”

“Right,” you said slowly, trying to recognise the emotion on his face. “Just a bat…”

“I owe the voice my gratitude,” Eddie said, dipping his head and smiling. “And, maybe… Vecna… He will rue the day that voice dared to call to this little witch.”

It exploded across Eddie’s body. A prickly warmth that responded to the combination of those two little words. He watched your pupils expand at his words. Your blood smelt rich. Thick. Hot.

It was entirely beyond either of your understanding. What had happened. What was happening. And what hadn’t yet transpired. Yet, for a fleeting moment on the couch of a run down trailer, you and the vampire were of one mind.

End Note: No, it won't be as easy as the unhexing spell bringing back Eddie's memories. And now, there is a looming threat in Vecna that may sidetrack this little witch's mission to turn back time. Thank you for reading. I am frothing at all the predictions of what is going to happen and what is going to be revealed. Some of you are hot and some are cold. xo Rhi

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[blazingstar24]

Thinking a lot about Brennan saying in the Calamity wrap up how he made sure that Zerxus had a moment where his value of redemption helped them. And how Laerryn’s scientific advancement also helped stop a bigger calamity. Because he didn’t want people to draw the hard lines of “redemption is stupid and doesn’t work and wanting to progress to new heights is dangerous” I think back to what Brennan said about how in that one instant it failed. But in another, it succeeded.

And how that relates to this journey from C2 to C3. I’m obviously not the first to point out the glaringly blatant parallels and similarities in Essek and Ludinus. The amount of them are insanely high. But the contrast is also very clear. Essek ends as a great friend to the M9, Caleb’s lover, redeemed in the eyes of our focus characters. Ludinus is currently trying to blow up the fucking moon and kill the gods.

So there’s that recurring idea of something going right in one instance. And going terribly wrong in another.

Where Essek had at least one thing, one person he cherished (his brother Verin, and eventually the M9) other than his goals, Ludinus has no one. Not a single person he would potentially stop what he’s doing for. No one he would feel true regret in disappointing. Perhaps someone did reach out to him like the M9 did for Essek, but it failed to reach him in turn. The ways in which these two characters contrast and end up in wholly different places in the narrative is so striking. One is redeemed and one remains villainous.

There’s this concept in C2 in which no matter how badly you fucked up, if you stop and try to be better, there is hope and a path forward for you. It’s with Essek and Caleb. Astrid and Eodwulf. Molly/Lucien, who get to start again with Kingsley.

C3 with Ludinus is exploring the flip of that. The instance in where this doesn’t happen. In which someone refuses to stop. To keep barreling down that destructive path. Ludinus is the culmination of every stopgap failing. He is what Caleb feared Essek would be, what he could have been. It’s interesting to get the “We’re not so different you and I” villain but the PCs aren’t the ones he paralleling.

But in a way it kind of wraps back around to Brennan’s statement in that these are choices narratively for the audience to ponder. The connections are there for us to see and reflect on. I don’t know if this means anything really but I find it quite intriguing.

[savage-rhi]

Duality

Chapter 1: The Hacktivist

Read Here On AO3

Summary: Sawyer Kiddo has walked a razor's edge as a hacktivist for several years, driven by the loss of her family in the Raccoon City incident. Haunted by past choices and fueled with desire for vigilante justice, Sawyer's work takes an unexpected turn when she ventures to Spain and crosses paths with Luis Serra—a man with blood on his hands long thought to be dead. Together they unravel a web of corruption and face an impending bioterror threat, fighting not only monsters but also the darker elements of their humanity. As they delve deeper into each other's pasts and the conspiracy at large, Sawyer begins to sense something unsettling about Luis—something that might be even more dangerous than their mutual enemies.

The sound of a heartbeat flickered in and out of Sawyer's ears while she ran. It was the only noise she could register. The pulse grew louder with every strained step. She ignored the ache in her calves while pushing past the ICU doors, winded with a crazed look in her eyes that had the nurses at the station immediately take notice. 

Sawyer's mind went on autopilot. Her mouth spilled so many words that her brain heard it as gibberish nonsense. Mere noises that only a scared animal could produce at the height of fear. It didn't matter that the nurses understood what she said, nor the fact one came from around the desk to put his hands on her shoulders to calm her down. She needed to run again--to numb her legs to the point they'd fall off. 

Sawyer blinked. 

“She’s stable right now but lost a lot of blood from the wreck. We’re keeping her for one more night in the ICU. Her assigned PCP will be in tomorrow, and they’ll go over additional treatment options and aftercare with you. At some point, you may be questioned by a government agent that’s been assigned to this floor--standard stuff like your name, address, and all of that. If you run into any problems, just go back to the nurse's desk and we’ll help you.”

Confused, Sawyer blinked a few more times. Her eyes strained after briefly looking up toward the fluorescent lights that illuminated the hall. 

“Now when you go into the room, make sure you remain five feet away. This is to keep you and her safe. Since the incident happened, and all those horrid stories we’ve heard…” The nurse's voice trailed off. His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat while the tips of his fingers on each hand trembled, as if his soul would leave his body at that very moment. When he noticed Sawyer staring at him, he felt his cheeks burn. 

“The hospital is taking every precaution,” he finished gently while pulling himself together. “Do you have any questions for me?” 

The realization she had been walking side by side with the nurse to the unit finally dawned on Sawyer. The hushed tones of medical staff walking by, the heavy chemical scent that hung in the air, and the rhythmic beeping of life-saving tools drifted against her ears. The first noise she heard in several hours that wasn’t her breath or beating heart.

Too startled from her lapse in time, Sawyer shook her head at the nurse’s question. There was nothing left to discuss. She needed to see her, to have visual proof that she hadn’t been lost like the rest. Five days of uncertainty--of terror--needed to be vanquished. 

Sawyer could feel her stomach drop as she slowly entered unit 690. Her eyes scanned the dimly lit room, noting how uncomfortable the subdued atmosphere was. It made the situation at hand more grievous. Her eyes then fell to the bed at the center. A network of tubes, wires, and IV bags surrounded the mattress like bouquets along a casket. She made a fist. The urge to run over and crush the body lying in the bed with an embrace was overwhelming. It took every fiber of her being to remain in place as Sawyer recalled the five-foot rule. 

The patient hadn't noticed her visitor. Her eyes were hollow--cheeks stained with residue from crying for hours without respite. There was no spirit behind her weary gaze while she stared at the ceiling, counting all the speckles she could see in the texture. It was a mindless little game. A band aid solution keeping her mind from spilling over. 

“Carmen,” Sawyer’s voice cracked. 

She stopped counting the speckles and froze. 

With trepidation, Carmen weakly adjusted and leaned her body up from the bed. Her vision blurred in and out as the figure near the door began to materialize. She locked her gaze with Sawyer's, and time came to a grinding halt. The weight of shared history hung in the air. She watched Sawyer take a step forward only to stop herself at the last second. A flood of emotions spilled into Carmen's psyche. Her bottom lip quivered, eyes welling up with tears that threatened to overflow at any second. She ignored the pain that throbbed in her body despite its subconscious pleas to lie back down and rest. 

The relief Sawyer had began to fade little by little as an unspoken tension grew.

“Carmen--” 

“Where were you?” Carmen’s voice broke. 

“I was--"

“Where the fuck were you?” Carmen pleaded. Her voice was so scratchy that she could barely choke the words out. "Mom and dad...the whole family." 

Goosebumps littered Sawyer's skin. "What do you mean the whole--"

"Gone! Everyone's fucking gone!" Carmen shouted. She glared when Sawyer flinched. "T-they ripped Pete apart! They ate our dog! My mom was eating my dad's face! Oh god, Sawyer--where the hell were you?! God damn it, where were you!?" 

Carmen’s anguish grew louder, echoing through the halls of the ICU. The heartbreak spread like a virus as Sawyer could hear other patients nearby beginning to cry out. Her own emotions struggled to consolidate as she tried to find the right words to offer Carmen solace.

Before she could utter a single noise, the hospital staff--downed in biohazard suits--had rushed in. The urgent footsteps punctuated the rawness of Carmen's pain as they attempted to soothe her, but their attempts fell on deaf ears as Sawyer watched on as Carmen cried harder and tried to rip the IV needles out from her arms. She was restrained, and a call for a sedative was made. 

While the staff intervened, Sawyer’s resolve began to crumble. It felt as if invisible chains rendered her powerless to react. She couldn't even lift one damn leg. Her knees went numb, and she quietly sunk to the floor while her body shook. 

Carmen's cries gradually subsided, replaced by hushed murmurs of the hospital staff. Sawyer remained on the floor as Carmen's words hit her like bullets. One after the next piercing her gut. She covered her mouth as the sobs came, seconds away from throwing up. 

The memory clung to Sawyer's consciousness as she stirred from the depths of her nap. Blinking against the harsh glare of the overhead lights, her heart still raced despite the dream being over. Slowly she began to piece together her surroundings. The hum of the plane's engine provided a faint anchor to reality, and with a shaky exhale, Sawyer closed her eyes and focused on her breath. 

That’s right…I’m on a plane…

The panic began to ebb away, replaced by a resignation she had grown accustomed to over the years. Not even the noisy passengers aboard could snap her out of the silence. 

Gracias por volar con nosotros, llegaremos a Madrid en breve. Por favor, permanezcan sentados mientras nos preparamos para el aterrizaje. 

Sawyer furrowed her brows when an English translation wasn’t followed up. She slouched into her seat and sighed, wishing she had reviewed Spanish before leaving the States. At the very least she understood they'd be docking soon. She pulled her phone out from the right pocket of her pants, scrolling through downloaded emails. Her eyes scanned for last-minute details she missed before the flight. 

“VITA,” 

Sawyer turned her head, face to face with an older gentleman who was sitting next to her. She quickly minimized her phone gallery. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You work for them?” The man grumbled, gesturing to Sawyer’s phone after he had seen a logo briefly flash on the screen. “My grandson told me there’s mixed feelings about your lot. Some kind of…hacker group, right? You guys meddle with everyone and everything. Always getting into trouble, that's what the news says.” 

Sawyer wasn't in the mood for a confrontation, especially with jetlag involved. She decided to take a passive approach, giving a shrug while she smiled warmly. 

“It pays the bills!”  

The old man scoffed, although he chuckled at her enthusiasm nonetheless. He waved her off while making a face, going back to reading scripture from a King James bible. The tattered cover reminded Sawyer of that phase in early childhood when her parents thought sending her to Sunday School would be a good idea--although they weren't religious themselves. "It'll help you build character and make friends!" as her mom once said. Sawyer wanted to laugh. Despite showing up for two years straight from the ages of six to seven, she couldn't quote scripture to save her life. 

Here's to hoping no one uses that against me...she snorted and looked out the window. The thick clouds began to shrink, and Sawyer caught the first glimpse of the city. From above, Madrid looked like a patchwork of ancient and modern architecture. As the plane descended further, she noticed some landmarks such as the Royal Palace and Plaza Mayor and found the juxtaposition against towering buildings nearby to be interesting. Whatever awe she had dwindled as Sawyer reminded herself she'd only be in Madrid for a few days before getting shipped back home--such was the nature of working for VITA. There was no time to savor moments like this. She felt the reality of the situation hit her once she arrived at the terminal and went through the motions. 

This would’ve been a perfect getaway...

Walking through Madrid was a feast for the senses. The air was alive with the cadence of Spanish chatter, melodic noise of street musicians and tantalizing aromas of local cuisine wafting from bustling establishments. Sawyer made a left on one of the main streets, leading past ornate architecture where grand cathedrals stood as a testament to history. It seemed that every corner held something new to behold. She felt the temptation to indulge, to say fuck it to the operation and have something to eat after a twelve-hour flight. It didn't help that there was a sense of warmth and hospitality emitting from locals, almost as if she was being invited to forget why she was here in the first place and everyone was in on it. 

Moving past another crowd, Sawyer found a hidden plaza that was adorned with a lively market teeming with colorful wares. She stopped to observe the area. Many things stood out to her, but not the establishment where she was supposed to meet her fellow members of VITA. She began to wonder if she had taken a wrong turn. She didn't see anything resembling a tavern nearby. Before she could check her phone for directions, a sharp whistle immediately captured her attention. 

“Hey Kiddo, over here!” 

Sawyer turned her head to the side, squinting briefly as a middle-aged man waving her down came into view amongst the crowd. Grinning from ear to ear, she sprinted over to him and two exchanged a long and tight hug, laughing in between grunts and playful bantering as they squished against one another. 

"Samuel!" Sawyer muffled against his chest, thankful he decided to let her go so she could breathe again. "I didn't think the higher-ups were going to send you over! Didn't you have a sting operation in London?"

"Already taken care of," Samuel's smiled broadened, taking a step back from her. His crows feet became more clear as he continued. "The dealer I lured was an easy target. Didn't even put up a fight when the cops bagged him." 

"Eh, you got off lucky." Sawyer remarked with an envious sigh. "It's only a matter of time before we all slip up." 

"I heard about the incident in Colorado," Samuel's eyes dimmed. "I heard you almost got jumped by your dealer before the BSAA agents arrived with the police. Were they assholes like everyone says?" 

"I prefer the term jack assess myself," Sawyer laughed. "But all things considered, they did keep me safe." 

“Didn’t those same jack assess throw you in jail for hacking and conspiracy to procure bio-organic weapons?” 

Sawyer’s face twisted into a wry expression at the snort Samuel made at her expense. “Briefly, but I got bailed out or I wouldn’t be talking to you.” 

“They're bastards. The lot of them.” Samuel muttered, shaking his head before motioning for Sawyer to follow him. "We do the world a service luring bioterrorist creeps into traps, and this is the thanks we get?" 

"To be fair, we aren't exactly handling things legally on our end." Sawyer quipped as she fell into step beside Samuel. "It's not surprising entities of the government would think we're up to no good since a quarter of us are networking with the black market." 

"So how did you get out of the pit aside for VITA footing the bill?" 

“I handed over all phone and virtual records of my conversations with the dealer to the agents. Then they got a subpoena to get a hold of my hard drive. I couldn’t contact anyone on the VITA network to get rid of it before I was arrested.” 

“Aw, shit!”  Samuel exclaimed. “They took your dealer list?” 

“Yup,” Sawyer huffed. “Along with information about VITAs future tasks, and intel on some of our fellow hackers.” 

"I’m shocked the higher-ups didn’t yank you from Madrid with how much you compromised.”

“Trust me, they wanted to!” Sawyer laughed. “But I got this guy eating out of the palm of my hand so bad, he wouldn’t speak to anyone else who tried posing as a buyer. When I get back to the States, I’m going to be on probation. At least until shit blows over with the BSAA.” 

“What are you going to do during your break?” 

Sawyer shook her head. His question stumped her in more ways than one while she combed a hand through her tousled hair. "I honestly don't know. I feel like a dog getting put down despite doing a great job sniffing out the bad guys for everyone."

Samuel scoffed, his lips twitching with a hint of amusement, “You’ve always had a way with words.”

“And you have a way of not telling me where the hell we’re going!” 

In between shared laughs, Samuel gave Sawyer a friendly pat on her left shoulder--offering a silent reassurance amidst the uncertainty she was facing. 

“It’s good to have you back in the EU, Kiddo,” Samuel remarked warmly. “Your sarcasm has been sorely missed.”

“Well, maybe if you didn’t insist on living in the UK, we'd hang out more!" 

“I love you Americans for all your spunk, but you couldn’t pay me a million dollars to uproot and deal with the tomfoolery over there.” Samuel said as a matter of fact. 

Sawyer's smile softened, and a moment of sadness traced her eyes. “I’m sure it will get worse. I give it twenty years tops before the country falls apart. ”

“Eh, lighten up a little bit.” Samuel attempted to ease the tension with a teasing grin. “It’s only 2006. You have plenty of time to become a citizen over in the UK if you get fed up with the rat race.” 

Sawyer raised an eyebrow, and a playful glint crossed her face. “Would you let me couch surf if I took up that offer?" 

“Don’t push your luck!” Samuel laughed. "I know for a fact you suck at paying your rent on time." 

“Hey, that shits supposed to be classified!” Sawyer teased. Her eyes looked ahead, noticing more of the crowds were thinning out. As much as she was enjoying catching up on life with Samuel, she knew they had to be getting close to their debriefing location. 

“So, who else from VITA is joining us aside from the two members of the National Police?” Sawyer's asked, her gaze returning to Samuel as they continued their conversation.

“Kari from Peru. She goes by Rebus on the black market web," Samuel replied, his tone shifting to a more serious note as he delved into the details. "And then there’s Mobley, aka Atom."

"I've heard of Rebus," Sawyer remarked with admiration. "She's...quite formidable from what's been said in passing."

"Kari is very no-nonsense, but she makes up for it with how much she adores her cat." Samuel chuckled. He spoke further, echoing Sawyer's earlier sentiments. "I worked with her one other time. In late 2000, we tag-teamed against a cartel member who attempted to smuggle T-virus variants for a drug lord named Javier Hidalgo. Believe me when I say, she lives up to her reputation.” 

“Hidalgo,” The name of Samuel’s former mark struck a chord in Sawyer’s mind. “Isn’t that the guy Anomaly reported gaining power in South America’s black market way back when?

“The one and only,” Samuel confirmed, his voice a mix of bitterness and relief. "Luckily for us, he’s not in the picture anymore. I believe your government sent agents to dispose of him. His last activity was reported in 2002.”

Thank god for that… Sawyer thought as further gratitude echoed in her mind. “And what of Mobley, have you ever worked with him before?” 

“No,” Samuel shook his head. “I hadn’t heard of his moniker until recently. I’m assuming he’s either new to the VITA gang, or he’s been around for a while--we just haven’t had the opportunity to get acquainted on an assignment yet.” 

“That’s kind of… suspect , wouldn’t you agree?” 

Samuel raised a brow at the remark, his expression thoughtful as he considered her words. “Why would you say that?”

“Our chief executive Maestro is normally stingy about us knowing who’s who when we go into the field, even with anonymity being emphasized to the highest," Sawyer explained, a note of frustration creeping into her tone. "I didn’t even get a memo you were coming, much less Rebus and Atom. It would've been nice getting a heads up.”

“True,” Samuel acknowledged with a nod. “But to be fair to the chief, he’s up to his neck in shit from what happened in Colorado, so maybe he’s punishing you by making you fill in the blanks yourself.” 

The mention of her recent ordeal brought a pained expression to Sawyer's face. “You think?”

Samuel's chuckle cut through the tension, his laughter a welcome relief. “It wouldn’t surprise me,” he admitted, offering a small shrug before gesturing toward their destination. “We’re here. Los Golosos--The Sweet Teeth.”

Sawyer couldn't help but laugh at his attempt at Spanish. “I think you mean The Sweet Tooth?” 

“I thought your Spanish was horrid last I checked?” Samuel countered.

“That remains a bitter truth, but I'm not entirely braindead." Sawyer retorted with a grin. 

Samuel chuckled. “Well, we best not keep our comrades waiting any longer,” he remarked, the anticipation of the meeting ahead evident in his tone. He opened the door, letting Sawyer venture into the establishment before himself. 

In the blink of an eye, hours slipped away as Sawyer absorbed the final scraps of information the police were willing to share. The uncomfortable tension that always accompanied interactions with law enforcement lingered. It was a rare occurrence for authorities to aid VITAs operations, given the murky legality of their cyberattack exploits—even when it was in pursuit of combating bioterrorism.

Sawyer was aware that any form of assistance from law enforcement came with significant risks. She remembered a case years back involving FBI agents who had gone to great lengths to protect hackers' anonymity from the US government. Several VITA members had orchestrated a doxxing campaign against BOW buyers in North America. When it was revealed that a US senator and a Canadian bank CEO had been funding bioweapon research and accepting hush money during an election campaign, the information was leaked to the public. The agents assigned to investigate and arrest the hackers responsible for the leak intentionally sabotaged the case. One of the five agents had lost family in the Raccoon City incident, and knew the government was lying about its prior knowledge of bio-organic weaponry. Sawyer could still remember the cold expression on his face while he was being taken into custody on television. How he openly declared his defiance was out of retribution for, "...the hell that was unleashed in 1998." The agents were severely punished, all for daring to stray from the prescribed narrative the US wanted to keep.

The wildfire of conversation ignited by the ordeal was enough to thrust Raccoon City back into public discourse and significantly bolstered public perception of TerraSave. The doxxing campaign demonstrated how easily average tech users could breach government security systems, and left opinions on TerraSave's actions divided. It was the final straw that broke the camels back among the groups civil war on how to combat bioterrorism, and thus VITA was born to answer the call for members who didn't agree with TerraSave's passive actions.

Sawyer couldn't believe at one point everyone from VITA was once a part of TerraSave--herself included. The weight of these decisions and her own actions preoccupied the back of her mind as she privately acknowledged the sacrifices being made by the two cops seated across from her. She didn't know the law too well in Spain, but God forbid if they were caught assisting VITA members.

"As I was saying," one of the cops sighed, reaching for the folder that Samuel had just finished examining. "You'll be provided with your get-out-of-jail-free cards. That should serve as sufficient proof. No one will bother you for passports back to your home countries."

Samuel made a face and shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. "Excuse us for being thorough."

"It's nothing personal," the other cop interjected.

"And neither was me taking my time to read the fine print," Samuel countered sarcastically. 

"Gentlemen, please," Kari interrupted, casting a side glance at the three men and shaking her head. "The jetlag to get here was already torturous enough. We don't need any additional weight." 

Approaching her mid-forties, she exuded an air of authority. Her sharp cadence matched the precision of her eyeliner, which accentuated the bags under her eyes. Sawyer could envision Kari always being perpetually tired even without jetlag getting in the way. Like an old work horse, she was strong in face but stubborn to a fault. 

“Onyx,” Rebus gestured at Sawyer. “Do tell us the area where you'll be encountering your buyer and your plan of action.”

Samuel wasn't kidding about the no-nonsense bit… Sawyer leaned forward and began to point out locations on a map spread across the table. 

"We're meeting at Plaza Hermanas Gemelas at 10 on the dot. The sellers name is Jean-Jaques Clouet. He goes by Soldado on the black market. His specialty is mystery bags, so I'm not entirely sure what contents I'm going to encounter, but the price tag suggests a T variant sample. I've already completed half of the payment transfer before leaving the States. There's no reason for him to suspect foul play or that I'm not going to show up." 

The older cop grumbled under his breath. "That sounds a bit reckless, not knowing exactly what you're getting into." 

"Give her a chance to explain, she knows what she's doing." Samuel defended.

Sawyer nodded appreciatively at Samuel's support as she continued, pointing out various locations on the map. "There are three points of entry and exit from the plaza. After the exchange, I plan to take the South exit. I can meet up with one of you officers there to hand over the sample, and you can call for reinforcements to apprehend Soldado before he leaves the plaza."

Kari let out a contemplative sigh before adding, "There are two large buildings nearby with decent reception. If Soldado attempts to call for help or use any wireless technology against us during the transaction, we should be able to jam his signals. We can also use our equipment to expedite the arrival of other entities if necessary. You officers need only give us the word.” 

The police exchanged a glance, their eyes tracing over the map with precision, ensuring every detail was accounted for. Breaking the silence, the younger officer voiced his concern. 

"Shouldn't we consider having military backup on standby in case there's a risk of an outbreak?"

"If you're keen on risking our operation and your careers, be our guest." Samuel's response was swift as he gestured toward the taverns exit to emphasize his point. 

“That’s putting it mildly!” Mobley's first words of the evening were met with a short, nervous giggle that drew everyone's attention. 

Sawyer observed him closely, noting his partial balding and unkempt beard. He had a subtle tic that caused his head to occasionally twitch. These little nuances wouldn't have been bothersome had it not been for his general demeanor being snobbish throughout the evening. It was enough of an issue to where Sawyer was thankful she was sitting between Kari and Samuel, and not him.The unease grew in Sawyer's gut as he pointed his left index finger at her. 

"The decision lies with Onyx here. She's the one getting up and close and personal with a viral substance, so it's only fair she gets to pull the trigger on calling in the big boys if necessary." 

The older officer muttered a skeptical comment under his breath, expressing doubt about Mobley's apparent enthusiasm for the situation.

"Atom has spent years cataloging BOW lists for anti-terrorist agencies in Europe and Australia," Kari cleared her throat, coming to Mobley's defense. "He doesn't get out much, so forgive his eagerness." 

Sawyer briefly side-eyed Kari. If that's what you want to call it...

"It's settled then," the older cop affirmed with a nod, sensing the weariness settling in after three hours of intense discussion. "Once Onyx leaves the plaza and gives us the sample, you four will head South of Madrid until you reach Toledo. Lay low there for the next twenty-four hours. We'll reach out when it's safe for you to make your flight back home."

"And if we don't hear from you?" Samuel asked. 

"If forty-eight hours pass without contact, consider yourselves on your own. Choose to return to Madrid at your own discretion." Came the concise reply. “There’s not much we can offer after that. We have to pretend this conversation and meeting never happened.” 

"And you gentlemen get to go home as heroes even if we don’t wrap this little bust-up in a nice bow for you,” Mobley concluded with a grin. He seemed to take pleasure in how that statement unsettled the younger cop, maintaining his gaze on him as he and his partner rose to depart.

"We shall see you all tomorrow. Señores y señoras, buenos noches." the older cop replied with a curt nod to the quartret. He gestured for his partner to move along, nudging him when it seemed the young man was inclined to start another conversation.

As soon as the duo exited the establishment, Samuel let out a sigh. He shook his head while watching the cops disappear into the night through the window. "With the way they were acting, you'd think they'd want to call this whole show off. Quite the far cry from how they were behaving in the network chats."

“I wouldn’t say that,” Kari remarked. Her fingernails gently clanked against a bottle of beer she had been nursing on throughout the meeting. “They’re frightened. It’s only natural given these boys have never dealt with a bioterrorist face-to-face before. They've been lucky Spain hasn't been a profitable place to set up shop until Soldado rolled in. Onyx, you ran their background checks before you left the states. Did anything alarming turn up?" 

“Nadda,” Sawyer answered happily. “They’re both clean, save for the older fella getting a DUI years before he joined the National Police.”

“And speaking of DUI’s,” Mobley licked his lips as everyone’s gaze fell on him. He studied Sawyer with curiosity. “I couldn’t help but notice as I was going through your records before our meeting--Ms. Kiddo--that you had your fair share of demons of that ilk. 1999 and 2000 were not kind years to you."

Sawyer made fists under the table, while her eyes stared intently at Mobley. "What's the punchline, Atom?" 

“There’s no punchline," Mobley shook his head while keeping his eyes locked on hers as if trying to win a staring contest. "Only a curiosity of sorts.” 

"By all means, enlighten me." 

“We’ve been at a tavern for hours discussing life-or-death scenarios and handling outbursts of anger. Surely, you can see where my concern is coming from.” Mobley added, his tone almost mocking.

“That’s quite enough out of you,” Samuel firmly voiced as he came to Sawyer's defense. "I'm sure you've done enough self-harm in your time Mr. Mobley, to warrant the three of us taking a gander at your past." 

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Sawyer pushed back her chair and rose to her feet, her movements slightly shaky.

"Kiddo--"

"Excuse me," she said tersely. "I need some air. This bar--like this conversation--is getting too stuffy for my taste. I’ll be back in fifteen after I go around a block.” 

Without waiting for a response, Sawyer made her way toward the door. She could already hear Samuel berating Mobley while Kari attempted to mediate between the two. There was a part of her that almost felt guilty for leaving Kari to handle Samuel's temper and Mobley's crass, but she knew her limits. This wasn't the time nor place for someone whom Sawyer barely knew to be prying into such intimate details of her life. The whole situation took her aback. It was an unspoken rule to not be privy to the personal lives of fellow hacktivists within VITA, but that didn't stop people from probing if they truly wanted to snoop. 

Outside on her lonesome, Sawyer became enveloped in the brisk embrace of the Madrid night. The temperature was fairly cool, a stark contrast from how warm it was earlier in the day. As she walked down the street, she could hear the gentle hum of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter coming from crowds enjoying the local nightlife. The noise created a rhythm that matched the beat of her troubled thoughts. She stopped as a sudden breeze carried with it a familiar scent that tugged at her nose. The unmistakable aroma of damp earth, and fallen leaves had her blink in confusion. For a moment in time, she felt like she was standing in the park at Raccoon City during autumn. Memories flooded as nostalgia took hold of her: the laughter of children at the harvest festival, the serene beauty of the city bathed in the warm glow of sunset, the final BBQ her mom and dad would make at the end of Summer, and the lackluster routine of picking up her cousin from work every Friday. She felt nauseous as she continued to walk, but with more urgency. The beeping of hospital monitors bounced in her mind, intermingling with Carmen's screams that could cut through glass. She felt like she was being engulfed by an invisible flame, one that wanted to be quenched and put out by liquor. Mobley’s earlier remarks added more fuel to Sawyer’s desire to drown herself, and she was grateful to have the foresight to leave the tavern before either her anger or addiction locked talons in battle. 

“Count to ten, sober again,” she murmured to herself, clinging onto the mantra like a piece of rope that was keeping her from falling off the edge of a cliff. With each step, she felt the impulse recede like trinkets being put back into a box and shoved away. She continued to repeat the words for a while, until arriving at the entry of a small bridge. 

Sawyer realized she had taken a wrong turn somewhere during her walk. Glancing around, she noted the absence of any other souls in sight. The dimmed lighting lent the scenery a romantic air that couldn’t be ignored. The gentle rush of the water under the bridge provided a soothing backdrop, and she envisioned this was a spot where lovers of all kinds would meet away from prying eyes. A small smile tugged at her lips. It wasn't everyday she'd entertain such whimsical thoughts-- especially given her nature--yet this moment provided a welcome distraction. Perhaps it was the medicine she needed right now aside from smoking. She seldom if ever had cigarettes on her. That was always Carmen's vice, and as painful as it was to reminisce about her, Sawyer felt a memory of her high school days begin to bloom. 

It was spring of '94. She remembered her cousin's infectious laughter after they decided to play hooky, and sneak off campus to indulge on a pack of cigs and treats. The pair made their way to Joe's, a little corner market that was hanging on by a thread, kept alive because of students wasting money on overcharged goods.  In the suburban area of Raccoon City, food choices and entertainment options were limited for teens, but the cousin’s managed to make their own fun. Sometimes to their own detriment as Sawyer nearly gagged on her second cig. She could still taste the harsh smoke from the previous one, and choked after accidentally inhaling too quick--much to Carmen’s amusement. As they made their way back to campus, Carmen was still recovering from her fit of giggles. 

“When’s the due date for that paper? Y’know, the one where we interview a person in the field we want work in?” Carmen asked, trying to regain her composure. 

“Beats the hell out of me,” Sawyer replied, taking another drag from her cig. “I thought you were interviewing that guy from Umbrella. The one your dad hooked you up with, what’s his name?” 

“Dr. Cartwright?” 

“Yeah, Dr.Catwhite!” Sawyer laughed. 

“Sawyer, really?” Carmen made a face. 

“Not in the mood for jokes, cuz?”

"At the very least not yours," Carmen muttered, though she couldn't suppress a smile. “I did finish my interview, but I haven’t written the paper yet.” 

Sawyer's eyes were bright with interest. “What was it like meeting a professional scientist?” 

“Eh,” Carmen shrugged, her expression nonchalant. “He was just an old man who happened to be smart. It was kind of boring to be honest with you. He spent twenty minutes ranting about over-the-counter drugs someone at Umbrella developed that were yanked before production. Apparently, he was looking forward to taking it himself. I never caught the name of the brand or what it did.”

“What, was it a miracle pill for erectile dysfunction?” Sawyer cackled, her laughter echoing through the street.

“Sawyer, Jesus!” Carmen exclaimed, glancing around to make sure no one in public heard that. 

“C’mon!” Sawyer teased.

“No way!” Carmen laughed, shaking her head.

“Hey, you never know! They might be working on something like that!” 

“Sure, when pigs fly!” Carmen retorted.

“Not with that attitude!” Sawyer quipped, her grin growing wider as she threw an arm around her cousin’s shoulder. “C’mon, we both know between the two of us you were probably thinking it way before me. Everyone in the family thinks I’m corrupt. Little do they know you’re the brains behind that operation. I mean look at you, you got me to smoke and skip class against my will…again!” 

“It helps to look girly and cute,” Carmen teased, nudging Sawyer playfully. “You should try it sometime, instead of dressing up like you just rolled out of bed. Maybe your mom and dad would get off your back and quit making assumptions that you’re a delinquent.”

Sawyer scoffed. “As if! Mom always thinks I'm up to shit even when I'm doing the right thing. There's no point in changing my wardrobe for that." 

The two stopped at a crosswalk, and Sawyer suddenly let go of Carmen. They both watched with unease as a large semi-truck with the Umbrella Corp logo drove past. The imposing vehicle disappeared down the road as quickly as it came, and Sawyer frowned while her eyes followed its trail.

“That’s the third one this month,” Sawyer murmured. “Did you ask Dr. Cartwright about the trucks coming in and out all the time?”

“Yeah,” Carmen nodded, her expression troubled. “He said Umbrella got a bigger budget, so they’re upgrading their lab equipment. I know he’s telling the truth because my dad said he saw them unpacking while he was cleaning the main offices, but there’s something…”

“Eerie?”

“Yeah, eerie about seeing those semis.”

“That seems a bit much for lab tools. Sure, once a month a truck might roll in, but almost every week now? They gotta be onto something big. Maybe a cure for cancer?” Sawyer looked at Carmen and sensed she wanted to change the topic. She decided to lighten the mood and smirked.  “You should ask your dad about sneaking us one of those prototype ED pills, y’know, being a janitor and all!”

“Sawyer, god damn it!” Carmen shoved her playfully. 

“While we’re at it,” Sawyer laughed. “Do you have any deodorant left? I need to hide the tobacco smell on my skin like a soldier hiding a war crime.” 

“Because I like you, I have just enough!” Carmen smiled. She took her backpack off and began scrounging through her belongings, eventually tossing the container of deodorant to her cousin. “By the way, I heard they’re discontinuing the musk one you love so much.” 

“Oh c’mon! I finally find a scent I love, and now I can’t have it?” 

"Same luck you have with boys I'm afraid!"

"Fuck you!" 

"You first!" Carmen laughed. 

In the present Sawyer was trying to hold back tears as she laughed to herself. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she let out a deep breath. There was no going back to simpler times, and she felt silly for allowing such sentiment to cloud her. She looked up and felt another chill of the wind blow past, and decided to take this as a sign that she needed to retrace her steps and head back to the tavern. 

"Sam's probably looking for me..." Turning away from the bridge, a looming shadow emerged from the right--hands seizing Sawyer and slamming her against a nearby wall with brutal force. Pain erupted through her head and lower back upon collision with the textured surface, the wind knocked out of her. Before she could process what was happening, her assailant struck again, and again. 

The dim light obscured his features, but Sawyer--senses reeling--instinctively took a defensive stance in between hits. Summoning her strength, she landed a firm blow to the intruders nose. Satisfaction fueling her as he stumbled backward with a pained yelp. She wasn't a fighter by trade, but her line of work had honed her in escape and self-defense. She knew she needed to get out of the area and fast. Taking her shot while her attacker was distracted, Sawyer evaded only to feel the sharp pinch of a vice-grip seizing her neck before her face met the ground in one fell swoop. Debris filled her mouth as panic surged. That’s when she felt a weight on top of her body, and her arms pinned behind her back. She snarled and kicked, trying to break free then a low inhuman growl echoed by her ear and she froze. 

There was no way a person could make the noise she heard just now--unless they were drunk. Even then, it was so animal like she scarcely doubted an inebriated guy could pull it off. The thought of being assaulted by a person was terrifying, then the intrusive thought of facing a BOW began to worm its way into her mind, chilling her to the bone. Whoever or whatever compromised her didn't matter in the end. The reality of the situation was that this person or thing was going to rip her limb from limb, and there was not a damn thing she could do about it. The horror of the what ifs was indescribable. 

Sawyers eyes closed. She hoped it would be over soon, but nothing came. Not for several moments.

Time stalled, the silence deafening while her attacker hesitated. Then, a gentle touch brushed through Sawyer’s hair, almost out of an affectionate curiosity. The intimacy behind it unsettled her as she felt his weight adjust, hearing him mutter something intangible. Sensing her chance, Sawyer twisted free--flipping onto her back, adrenaline coursing through her veins. With a surge of last minute strength, she delivered two powerful kicks to the attacker's abdomen, crawled to her feet and fled. Heart pounding and gasping for breath, the world around her became a dizzying maze of indistinct forms, each merging into the next in a disorienting blur. 

She ran for what felt like ages, then without warning, Sawyer collided with a solid mass. She stumbled backward in shock. With a gasp, she looked up to see the familiar face of Samuel and didn't know whether to belittle him for scaring her or to thank him for showing up when he did. 

“Kiddo!” Samuel's joy quickly changed to one of concern as he glanced over Sawyer, noting her disheveled look and the light bruising on her face. He didn't hesitate to reach out to her, his hands upon her shoulders to stabilize her quaking form. "Good lord, what happened?" 

"Oh, you know, just a little run-in with a local drunk," she replied, her voice strained while forcing a smile, attempting to brush off his concern. 

“Sawyer-”

"Nothing I couldn't handle myself. I mean, takes one to know one, right?" she added. Despite her efforts to downplay the situation, the lingering ache in her body and the fear in her eyes betrayed the true severity of her ordeal. Sawyer gently guided Samuel's hands off of her, needing to take space for herself. 

“I hate to call you out on your bullshit, but I’m afraid I’ll have to insist.” Samuel retorted. Concern and anger painted his brows while he glanced over their surroundings, shooting a glare toward people walking by. "Did you get a good look at the asshole?" 

“No, it happened too fast.” Sawyer breathed. She shook her head. “If the bastard was going to hurt me, they would've done so. I wouldn't stake too much of your time on this, Sam." 

"I've told you before, I don't appreciate it when you shorten my name to calm me down." Samuel grumbled, a slight frown creasing his brow.

"But it's working, isn't it?"

"Maybe a little," Samuel conceded. There was no point in arguing with her, not when she was worked up and not when he was angry on her behalf. Being enraged wouldn't help the situation, the perp was probably long gone by now from the looks of things. His gaze softened as he reached out to brush a speck of dirt from her shoulder.

"It's a good thing I found you when I did. Kari and Mobley turned in for the night after I managed to quiet the weasel in question. He really shouldn't have stirred the pot like that, bringing up your baggage. You never would've gotten hurt out here if he kept his mouth shut." 

"As much as I hate to admit it, he had a point. Fuck, I could've handled him better." 

"Hey, the Kiddo I know isn't a pushover." Samuel smiled, gazing over her with a frown. "Are you going to be okay?"

"The Kiddo you know can also be a horses ass..." Sawyer quipped. She nodded at his question, feeling her body calming down further. "I think so. Yeah, I'm good." 

Despite Samuel's urge to delve deeper into what happened and track down whoever harmed Sawyer, he knew time was of the essence. They only had ten hours to rest before the operation tomorrow, and the nerves were already starting to set in. "We should head for our accommodations. Tomorrow's going to be a rough one." 

"Tell me about it," Sawyer muttered. "It's already been one hell of a night."

"That's Madrid for you," Samuel sarcastically remarked, though his amusement hinted weariness. "Listen, about earlier in the bar...if your cousin came up--or Raccoon City, you can talk to me about--"

"I'd rather not right now," Sawyer cut him off. "I appreciate it Sam, but now's not the time." 

"Right," He murmured. Disappointment that spanned years crossed his features before he masked it with a faint smile. He shook his head, unable to hold his tongue at a remark despite his efforts. "I often find myself yearning for the days when I could seek my wife's counsel on how to help friends without kicking the hornets nest." 

"Tanya," Sawyer frowned. He hadn't mentioned her in a long time, not since they worked an assignment a year ago in Canada. She hesitated to speak on it any further, but it wasn't everyday Sam gave her an in like this. "She passed in the first wave of the outbreak, right? When you both used to live in the States." 

"Hmm hmm," Samuel confirmed with a heavy nod, letting out a breath. "Yeah, just a month after she finished her residency. She died at that godforsaken hospital in Raccoon City, trying to quarantine people left and right...trying to understand what the hell was happening. I remember our last phone call. How she wanted answers. I kept telling her to leave. To get her ass on a plane and come home. Alas, she never liked taking orders. Like someone else I know." Regret laced Samuel's voice as he chuckled softly. The memory brought a bittersweet smile to his lips as he thought of his late wife. 

"Why are we talking about this now?" Sawyer genuinely asked. 

Samuel laughed. "Why do we talk at all?" 

"Sam--"

"Kiddo," An uncomfortable silence settled between the two, heavy with the weight of shared sorrows and losses. He was the first to break the quiet.

"I know you've heard it countless times, but...you're not alone in this. It's why we're here. Why we do what we do, why we take huge risks--so that others don't have to experience the same heartbreak. We can lean on each other, y'know?" 

“I know,” Sawyer swallowed. “I’m just...I’m not ready for that, Sam.”

"I know..." Samuel understood that some wounds were too raw to expose, even to people who were close. When they both exchanged genuine smiles toward each other, silently acknowledging the bond they shared as close friends, did he finally speak. "I'll be right here when you're ready. Even if it takes years." 

"Promise?" 

"Cross my heart." Samuel chortled. He gave Sawyer a gentle nudge, and gestured with his head. "C'mon. Let's grab a quick bite before we catch some shut-eye and get you patched up." 

Sawyer followed Samuel, her steps falling into sync with his. Before leaving the area, she paused and glanced back from where she came. She couldn't shake the feeling of unease, lingering on who or what attacked her. She was never a religious type, never one to pray--but she hoped this wasn't an omen of things to come. 

Turning away, she followed Samuel into the night. 

Notes: 1. Gracias por volar con nosotros, llegaremos a Madrid en breve. Por favor, permanezcan sentados mientras nos preparamos para el aterrizaje. (Thank you for flying with us, we will arrive in Madrid shortly. Please remain seated while we prepare for landing.)

To be transparent, updates on this story and my other fics will happen sporadically from this point forward. It all depends on how crazy my schedule gets, if I run out of spoons, or if I have the mental bandwidth for certain subjects. This story in particular might change as I develop the plot further, or may be subject to revision.

Thank you for understanding! 💙

[return-to-twisted-wonderland]

🔆anon

Kit meeting canon Fellow

Playful land spoilers. Things out in EN

—

Fellow: Oh, your my sister? That’s a fun development.

Kit: Is it now? I have very little interest in you.

Fellow: Oh, don’t be like that! We’re siblings! And according to you, Gidel has enough magic to help keep the puppets running. Running the ship ourselves would be so much better than that layabout who has me do all his work.

Kit: I’m not your sister, and I wouldn’t have helped you. I didn’t help my brother with his plan either and he didn’t sell his pride.

Fellow: What a useless sister you are. A mouth to feed without hands to help? I’m starting to believe I ended up with the better deal.

Kit: You followed a man with one of the worst schemes for money! I understand money is important, but you can’t walk off a cliff to get it!

Fellow: I am far from an idiot.

Kit: Really? You’re not? I mean, you had to know how many important people went to NRC, right? And thus the likelihood of getting those people in the group that visited? Not only that but they posted photos of going to the park. They would have tracked you down instantly! Even then, you could have just had them outbid whoever you’re working for. You have multiple extremely rich people! They can outbid! All you have to ask for in exchange is your safety and their money better than who you’re working for and then fork over some info when they pay!

Fellow: Then I would never get jobs again. If I was branded as easily swayed by money, no one would hire me.

Kit: You are easily swayed by money. You sold your morals. You’re kidnapping people, kids, and turning into puppets to sell. Plus money is how the underworld works. Even if you didn’t get any jobs, the amount of money you get from the NRC group, plus the safety you asked for, should be able to get you a genuine, above ground job. You’d be shocked how you can get immunity if you snitch on a big underground ring, then you can get witnesses protection. You literally have the Asim heir and a Kingscholar. They can give protection.

—

Kit would have never accepted canon Fellow as a sibling. No matter how hard he tried. She’s a traumatized asshole who gave up in humanity, but she has morals and won’t actively align herself with evil just because she believes that it’s everywhere.

Also the reason Kit’s Fellow didn’t end up the way canon did is because of Kit herself (running on the assumption that their history is the same). If it wasn’t for Kit, Fellow would have only had to look out for himself. He also likely would have ran away earlier, not having the false hope of his parents changing with a baby. Kit’s Fellow did eventually turn to crime, but he did so only after Kit disappeared because he didn’t want Kit to fall down the path of crime. Once he did give up and start using criminal tactics, he would have been years later than canon Fellow who would have started instantly.

—

Side note from me. I adore the fun of Playful Land, but it doesn’t feel thought through… I like it because it’s fun, but it’s not good.

From what Kit pointed out to the fact that everyone is an idiot in accepting the tickets. Like even Ace, who we know to be good at reading people and manipulating people, and the Tweels, who do look for fun but are smart enough to know blatant danger.

Kit's Fellow and Canon Fellow should fight. Kit's Fellow would win.

That's also the issue I'm having with this event, it's fun and got funny moments, but it's weak, in story and design for the costumes. I know it's Fellow's magic at work, but it can't be that strong enough to infect all of them ESPECIALLY Jack.

[wisteria-aa]

I wrote something about my OCs. I’m not really good I only started recently so if any of you has advice you’re welcome. And I’m not a native English speaker so tell me if some grammar is wrong

Tw: graphic description of violence

Sunset Hours

It was almost dusk and as the sun's rays lit up the orange sky the Twin Moons rose on the opposite horizon; in the meanwhile Savika and Florian were leaving the little rural village.

The girl turned to check that no one was following them but the path behind them was empty; yet she couldn't shake the feeling of being watched.

“Savika, is everything okay?”

“Yeah… I just feel like we’re being followed,” she said as she looked around. She was exhausted. She hadn't been sleeping or eating enough since she ran away and perpetual nausea stopped her from doing both no matter how hard she tried.

Florian observed the surroundings carefully but did not perceive any danger “Maybe it's just those from the village who are curious to know what two foreigners like us are doing here. Not to mention that it's clear that I'm an elf. But I didn't notice any wanted flyers around the village. The danger might come from outsiders."

“Yes… you're right…” the other replied, although not very convinced. Since she was a kid she had learned to never let her guard down and, even though her life had been relatively serene lately, she couldn't relax.

They walked along the Asiteral Trail, staying at the edge almost inside the forest, since it was usually quite busy, because it was the only connection that most places had to the capital, and Savika didn’t want to attract too much attention.

To give reason to her paranoia there was a small group of people who were going in the same direction as them, carrying the horses by hand. They were shady characters, with weapons concealed under their clothes that Savika's trained eye noticed immediately, and were eyeing them suspiciously. Savika pulled her hood over her eyes to slip past them without being recognized. Unfortunately their gazes were focused on them, on Florian to be precise.

He attracted a lot of attention, not only because he was an elf but also because he seemed to brighten the places he was in with both his appearance and his personality.

His long blond hair shined golden in the last rays of the sun, contrasting the dark roots that peeked out of his scalp. He was smiling at her, a kind and reassuring smile, but she looked away, tormented by feelings that she couldn't even understand. However, she didn't have time to think about it because she noticed that the group they had just passed had shrunk from 10 to 6 thugs.

Savika suddenly stopped and with her arm blocked Florian and pushed him into the forest.

“Savika what-?“ she couldn't finish her sentence because she the girl covered his mouth with her hand, startling him. She didn’t notice but his cheeks blushed slightly at the contact.

“They're following us” Savika whispered, nodding her head towards a shadier, more hidden area of ​​the forest. Looking closely she could see two figures advancing towards them.

“There are two more behind and in front of us. Plus those left on the main road. Be prepared”

“Do you think they recognized you?” Florian asked worriedly, looking around.

“Maybe.” Savika pulled two knives from the sheaths at her hips and handed one to the elf.

From inside the forest there were sounds of breaking branches and a hissing whistle cut through the air. Savika felt a searing pain across her chest: a verretta (crossbow arrow) had pierced her body and came halfway out of her chest. Her vision filled with black dots and a trickle of blood began to come out of her wound, the hemorrhage stopped only by the same weapon that had caused it. Her mouth was filled with the metallic taste of her own blood and her fangs pricked her lips. Stop it. This is not the time she thought trying to distract herself.

“SAVIKA!” Florian shouted, turning to her with a terrified expression as she pushed him to the ground, just before a bolt passed over their heads, embedding itself in a tree.

The gang surrounded them while they were both on the ground and her leader placed a foot on Savika's back to keep her on the ground.

“What a surprise! The poster said 'Dangerous, approach with caution' but it took me one arrow to knock you out.” he mocked her and the other bounty hunters laughed with him "Thanks to you I will secure not only my freedom but also a life like a king!"

“You bastard-“ Savika growled through clenched teeth, collapsing under the weight placed on her. Her hair went over her face, narrowing her field of vision, and her own blood filled her lungs, rising to her trachea and filling her mouth. Another person was holding Florian still, who was shaking like a leaf and with wide eyes.

As her vision blurred and her breathing hitched, Savika felt her blood boil in her veins: she wouldn't die like that, she hadn't survived anything and everything to be killed by a bunch of chicken thieves. She tapped into that primal rage within her, the one that had been hers since she was born, the one that the High Priestess would have called Divine Madness, and she screamed.

The sky turned scarlet tinting the environment with that color and alike did her eyes, including the sclera. Savika turned the ring on her finger. Once. Her fangs elongated, piercing her lip, the new blood mixing with the blood from her lungs. Twice. Her nails grew longer as her skin grew even darker, turning pitch black up to her elbows. Three. Click. The sword's hilt fit perfectly in her hand, and its tip pierced cleanly through the man above. Blood and guts splashed around and covered Savika from head to toe. The girl fought and her movements were perfect, mowing down the men with her sword as if they were ears of corn.

The last one left was the one who was holding Florian down, who tried to say something, to plead for their life, but didn't have time. The sword split his skull in half, stopping a few centimeters from Florian's neck.

“Savika! What is going on?" Florian placed his hands on her shoulders, shaking her out of her daze. “What have you done…?”Her eyes slowly returned to normal as did her arms, the black giving way to the brown of her skin.

“Ah… you… sorry…” Savika tried to clean his cheek, smeared with bloody remains, but she only left a bigger, bloodier imprint. And she passed out as the elf tried to catch her mid air.

[rotating-hyperfixations]

Not to bring up politics on my fandom blog, but I gotta let out somewhere so I’m yelling into the void on tumblr so bear with me.

I truly think the U.S needs to go back to teaching civics in schools at a higher level then they currently are; because the amount of people who seemingly can’t grasp how elections and general politics run is astounding. Like, I totally get being frustrated with the state of American politics and the amount of corruption and private equity in what’s supposed be a public entity, but yall are really starting to test my patience when it comes to election season. Because yall are being dumb with this whole “don’t vote for Biden”/vote third period campaign you’re trying to put out there.

Unfortunately America is a two party system and a lot of people fall somewhere within the political spectrum. And generally throughout history, even if you didn’t agree with a candidate you vote for the one that more aligns with your values in the hopes that you can get them to change their opinion on important matters through congress and the senate (aka state reps). However in the last three election cycles a lot of people have become one policy voters (meaning one issue makes or breaks who they’ll vote for) and now we’re on the brink of rolling back a centuries worth of progress because a bunch of far right christofacists were able to come into power by people not voting. And rather then recognize that we are legitimately headed down a very dangerous path if Trump gets elected for a second term; people have just decided to not vote or mobilize a third party candidate. Both of which unfortunately just leads to a Trump victory because republicans are far more likely to vote as a party than democrats.

While think that at some point a real effort has to be made to try and get some more younger and progressive politicians in power, the year on election is not the time to start. and that is simply because America at this point it not capable of coming to together to recognize anyone who is not a democrat or a republican and it’s not a change you can implement at the national level immediately. For these changes to occur people need to start showing up at non Presidential elections and voting progressive and third party candidates locally, so it gets on the radar and they start to take it seriously and adopt that ideology within their own parties. However, yelling on the internet that you’re not going to vote with seemingly no alternative plan isn’t going to do anything. Not to mention no politician is ever going to cater to every base within a party, it’s simply not feasible. I’m sure that there are moderates who disagree with certain aspects of Bidens politics, but they understand that Biden is a far better alternative to Trump.

And ultimately that’s what all of this boils down to, the Trump of it all. If Biden was facing back Republicans of old like Mitt Romney or John McCain, I’d say sure not voting and making a statement on the democrats not accurately representing your beliefs will make you not vote for them would be ok. Unfortunately a second term of Trump is going to have far more reaching implications than I think people realize, and don’t realize how serious it is. Out side of the fact that Trump has basically already demonstrated that if he can, he won’t peacefully transfer power to whoever succeeds him. But he will roll back a ton of civil liberties and probably do irreparable damage to certain parts of the country and branches of government. Like do you really want to get an even more conservative Supreme Court or for things like abortion bans to become national law. And I know that people think that’s fear mongering or that they don’t care about the damage it does to their community, which is fine and all I suppose. But there are a ton of kids who are powerless in this matter who don’t get a say, who may not feel the same way and saying “you don’t care” even as a minority group is still an insanely privilege take and a very short term thinking.

And finally, if you’re not voting for Biden because of his handling of the Hamas Israel war, allowing Trump into office is not going to help anyone over there. Because Trump and republicans have already stated that they are pretty much on the side of Israel and are going to probably aid them even in more in bombing the shit out of Gaza. So if that’s the hill your will to die on, don’t dilute yourself into thinking that not voting for Biden will do anything to help anyone or desecrate the situation because Trump will make it far worse and then America will be complicit and all the activism in the world won’t help.

[casspurrjoybell-20]

Sky Twizzlers - Chapter 16b

*Warning Adult Content*

Damn You, Moon Goddess - Part 1 - Aaron 

After breakfast, we all set out to the location of the portal. It was in a park. Soon, we were entering the park and walking along a dirt path. Aubrey kept looking around with a wide smile, probably enjoying the connection to the new plants.He was in between Evander and I, his hands connected to ours as we walked down the path. I was glad they were so quick to forgive me. I didn't want to do anything to hurt my mates. 

‘And hiding the truth from them isn't hurting them?’ 

I ignored the whisper in my head. I wasn't ready to tell them. I was allowed to wait until I was more comfortable and ready to tell them.

"Where is the portal?" I asked Evander, glancing around.

"Rin just told me it was here. They never said anything about where in particular, or even what it would look like."

"It's over there," Aubrey suddenly piped up, pointing off into some trees.

"How do you know that?" Erin asked from nearby.

"The flowers told me," he answered simply.

"Good enough for me," I mumbled and pulled my mates along into the trees.

The rest of the group followed and Erin walked faster to be in the front. Of course, he'd be in the front. Something about needing to protect us if there was danger, no doubt. Idiot. We walked for a minute or so until we came across a weird-looking tree. It was weird because it was too perfect. It looked almost fake. There was an air of magic around it, too. I could feel it rolling off the tree in waves.

"This is it," I said aloud.

"What do we do now?" Aubrey asked.

"Go inside?"

I let go of his hand to cautiously step forward but Erin stopped me with an arm across my chest. 

"Let me go first," he said.

"Stop trying to play the valiant hero," I said.

"I'm not," he protested. 

"I just want to go first."

With a roll of my eyes, I stepped back for him. He walked to the tree and stood in front of it. Slowly, he tried placing a hand on the tree trunk. The magic rippled and his hand went straight through what looked like thin air. Well, now we know this is a portal to something at least. Erin glanced at us and offered a smile before stepping inside. We all filed in after him and my heart began beating faster. This was exciting. I never thought I'd ever be going into the dragon realm or any other realm for that matter. 

What would greet us on the other side? What would we see? Experience? Feel? When we stepped through, we were greeted with another forest but there was a distinct stone pathway leading to the spot where the portal was. I briefly wondered if any humans had wandered in here before as we all glanced around but pushed the thought away when we all heard a screech. My head snapped up to the sky and I gasped when I saw that it was clear blue, not red like in the dreamscape. 

‘Weird.’ 

However, my chest tightened when I saw the large silhouette of a dragon flying by. No... flying down towards us. As it got closer and closer, I found myself reaching out for Aubrey and Evander's hands to squeeze. They squeezed back as our group watched in horrified awe when the dragon landed in front of us with a huff. It was beautiful in a terrifying sort of way. 

Colored hues of green and brown, their scales resembled a grove of trees and a pair of branchlike antlers sat atop its head. It glared at us with bright green eyes slit like snakes' eyes. The dragon shifted right before us. Immediately, they growled. 

"Who are you? Why have you entered our realm?"

I noticed the accent. 

It was warm and very lilted. 

Was that what all dragons sounded like? 

"We're here in search of a dragon, Kamihara Yuki," I spoke up, trying to seem brave.

"Kamihara Yuki? What business do you have with her?" they demanded with a glare.

"We were sent here by a kitsune. He had a vision of a person who told us to contact her," I tried to explain.

They continued to stare at us, even locking eyes with me at one point while I spoke. They suddenly straightened up, the glare gone. 

"Follow me."

I glanced at the rest of our group and followed after the dragon. They reached into a tree hollow and pulled out a green robe and wrapped it around their body. Now that I realized they had been naked, being a shifter makes you unaware of that fact sometimes, I frowned curiously. They had a fairly sized chest but they also had a... ahem, traditionally male appendage. At least, it looked like they did. My head snapped around to see if anyone else noticed and was just as confused as I was.

"I am Minori, the guardian of this portal. Refer to me however you wish. I know your realm likes to focus intensely on pronouns," they spoke as we walked.

We all remained silent. What could we say to that? Well, almost all of us remained silent. 

"I'm Erin, future Alpha of the Riverside Pack. It's nice to meet you, Minori."

I watched them ahead of us, Erin trying to strike up a conversation and Minori answering curtly. I rolled my eyes at Erin's stupidity, then focused back in on their backs.I stopped in my tracks, looking in shock at his string. It was pointing in a direction that did not lead back to the portal. Not like the other strings of our fellow group members did. 

‘Great Goddess above, you are such a bitch. I hate you.’

Erin's mate was here. In the dragon realm. And being the idiot I was, Erin rubbed off on me, I was already creating a plan to help him out.

‘Don't do it, dumbass. You're not supposed to interfere with fate, remember?’ 

Ugh, the urge to step in and tell him was insane. He was so close, closer than he'd ever been. He deserved a happy ending and I was the only person who could lead him to it.

‘Damn it.’

"Aaron? What's wrong?" Aubrey asked from beside me.

"Oh, uh, nothing," I said with an awkward chuckle.

"You saw something, didn't you?" Evander asked quietly.

"Yes," I admitted. 

"Erin's mate is in this realm and I want to help him find them."

Evander looked down at me with raised eyebrows. 

"Really? But, wouldn't that interfere with his fated bond?"

"Yes but he's my best friend. I want him to be happy."

We continued to walk but I fought the urge to run to Erin and drag him to the end of his string. A frown made its way onto my face. He didn't even have a clue how close he was.

"He will be. You just have to let fate guide him," Aubrey said, offering a gentle smile. 

"It will work out, just like it did for all of us."

‘They're right. I can't step in no matter how much I want to. Just like with Wren and Joshua.’

"We're here," Minori suddenly called.

I looked up the pathway to find a small cottage in the middle of the forest. It was surrounded by beautiful plants and even a babbling brook nearby. It was pretty and all... but how the hell did we find Kamihara Yuki so quickly? 

"Where is here?" I asked just in case.

Minori glanced at me before walking up to the door. 

"Yuki's home."

[psychreviews2]

The Eightfold Path: Right Concentration

Right Concentration

If we got lost on the path, the best way to get back on is to tend to causes and conditions and see what was forgotten. It all leads up to Right Concentration, which for Thanissaro Bhikkhu is a full bodied awareness, as opposed to a narrow pointed concentration on a colored disk, like a kasina. You gain pleasure up the Jhanic arc, and develop rapture (Jhana 1), bliss (Jhana 2), satisfaction (Jhana 3), and equanimity (Jhana 4). These aren't spaced out states, sleep states, they're not a grind, but instead they are bright aware Flow states that are quite happy and peaceful. It's a form of emotional feeding and satisfaction that is to replace external sensuality. "We’ve got to train the mind to raise its standard of taste. That’s one of the functions of concentration: to give us a better standard of pleasure, a pleasure that comes not from sensuality but from form, i.e., the body as you feel it from within. This pleasure doesn’t require that the world outside be a certain way. All it requires is that you pay attention to what you’ve already got here—which means that there’s a lot less unskillful activity involved in accessing this pleasure and maintaining it. It doesn’t require that you take anything from the world, and it doesn’t obscure your vision in the same way that sensual pleasures do...So being in concentration is actually a lot safer than not being in concentration. When you’re not in concentration, you go back to your old fascination with sensuality. And it’s because of sensuality that people kill and steal and lie and engage in all sorts of unskillful behavior. But nobody’s ever killed over jhana, nobody’s ever stolen anything. In fact, being in jhana makes you a lot less likely to kill and steal, because you’ve got something really, really good here that doesn’t have to depend on anybody else."

I have a summary of the standard Jhanas in my video Jhanas, but it's the actual practice that matters. "You can read as much as you’d like about discernment, inconstancy, stress, not-self, emptiness, whatever, but it’s not really going to have a hold on the mind until the mind settles down firmly and can be still. However much the mind likes to read about those things, its feeding habits are still low. Ajaan Chah’s image of Westerners is one of those comments that’s right in your face. He said that Westerners are like vultures: They fly very high but they eat very low. We like to think about abstract concepts, but when we’re looking for pleasure, where do we go? Straight for lust, all the gross sensual pleasures." Of course we need the comparison between different types of pleasures, but without an ability to feed on concentration, the weaning practice of mindfulness will be difficult to maintain. With Right Mindfulness, there is an understanding of too much striving, but when there's little to no control over the mind, many negative vibrations are released, including narratives of the past, resentments, undeveloped areas of the mind, and temptations to return to sensuality. The value of concentration shows that simple things, like getting lost on a smartphone, and being interrupted, show that where we put our concentration and how it compares, with what in the end is always sensuality concentration, that being interrupted in regular concentration on the breath isn't as bad as sensual feeding and THEN being interrupted. The mind gains a taste of freedom and learns to interrupt its own concentration less and to prefer concentration over other objects because of its clean aftertaste. "It’s a matter of having the right balance: knowing how to encourage your concentration without pushing it so hard that you kill it." Concentration is an understanding of the limited attention span, and the danger of multi-tasking, but it can reinforce all the other factors on the eightfold path as per MN 117 "Any singleness of mind equipped with these seven factors—right view, right resolve, right speech, right action, right livelihood, right effort, & right mindfulness—is called noble right concentration with its supports & requisite conditions." This non-linear approach to the path views each part of the path as a support for every other.

Jhanas: https://rumble.com/v1gqznl-the-jhanas.html

Emotional Feeding - Thanissaro Bhikkhu: https://rumble.com/v1gqvl1-emotional-feeding-thanissaro-bhikkhu.html

MN 117: https://www.dhammatalks.org/suttas/MN/MN117.html

As one periodically feeds on concentration and Samadhi, one begins to value the pleasant mind states that arise, and with the prior sections of the eightfold path, that all aim at a blameless well-being, there is a clean aftertaste, a clear conscience, and regular pursuits begin to lose their luster. Concentration also provides a direction when the mind feels rudderless with open aware mindfulness. Concentration also has its form of equanimity as well. Getting the taste of equanimity for those who are new to mindfulness, who only achieve it now and then with concentration, provides a mind stuck in depression with a glimpse of freedom. For many people, that's how it starts and then the idea that one can develop equanimity with less concentration and can allow consciousness to move, this starts to animate the mind to go in that direction eventually. A certain amount of feeding will continue but people will have to make the choice whether one kind of sensual pleasure or another is just fine. In Paths to Liberation, there is a reminder that all desire is political and people have to be prepared to understand boundaries and how they can be crossed very easily when it comes to desire. "Due to desire, one prefers one view over all others and thus prevents oneself from seeing the truth and becoming truly knowledgeable. There is no worse barrier to mindful seeing than the belief that one has already seen and known fully...Such a person prefers a view that legitimates and reinforces his or her desires. The less-than-ideal person substitutes a particular view for a direct apprehension of reality. If one does not refer to reality directly as its own truth, one's only criterion for choosing among the competing formulations of truth is selfish desire: which view best states what one wishes were true? When one has found such a view, one will defend it with conviction born not of personal and direct apprehension of the truth, but rather of the fact that it meets that primary selfish criterion. Hence attachment to views epitomizes the viciously circular, self-perpetuating nature of desire, attachment, and dependence in general."

This is mainly how one moves towards concentration and mindfulness over time. The grossness of regular desires, the proneness to argument and conflict over what can't be shared, these emotions taint what could be otherwise a regular use of one particular object or another. Even worse with sadomasochism, many people only like objects precisely because they are rare, evoke sadistic conflict, for those who enjoy sadism, and mental peace can only be seen as boredom. When people can't enjoy peace, there's a blindness that leads to taking on goals that are too challenging, and masochistic, and to sadistically challenge role models, similar to boxers calling each other out and demanding a match to prove superiority, which in the end is only temporary. The wear and tear of goals can't be ignored forever, and then injury, ill health, including ill mental health, wears down the individual to the point that there may be a chance to take a second look at peace and to finally appreciate it.

The problem of course with pure concentration, is that one has to develop a certain amount of conditions, and this takes years of seclusion to master completely. When the mind gets a taste for different forms of freedom, it doesn't mind the conditions, because external conditions for sensuality, especially endless access to consumption, usually require enormous conditions to be right in the sense of having the right skills for the right job or business. Concentration and Mindfulness can skip those difficult conditions and provide quite a lot of well-being and a certainty that if enough development is put in, there will be some facility for these mind states.

There is also a momentum with concentration that gets lost on people. Even if concentration needs cultivation and fades over time, it may fade over hours, and those hours can be quite peaceful. You are tending to causes and conditions that make seeds for negative mind states more difficult to find soil, because of the momentum. Rob Burbea talked about these residual benefits. "Then one day I was at the meditation centre, in an evening class, meditating. Some degree of samatha, nothing particularly extreme or out of this world at all. Some quietness, some settled-ness, some sense of enjoyment, calmness there. Memory came up of this person, and the beginning of the anger, the beginning of the anger. And I just saw – it was almost like the anger was a seed, and it wasn’t, you couldn’t even call it anger at that point. Because of the samatha, because there was the calmness, it was very clear: there was a non-building of that anger, a non-kind of drawing it out and pumping it up and injecting energy into the anger. It wasn’t a suppression that was going on. It just didn’t have – the conditions that were usually there to build and inflate anger were just not there in that moment. So it just came up as a moment, and disappeared. It takes conditions in the present, conditions of responding in the present, to make it what we would call ‘anger.’"

Developing Samatha/Concentration - Rob Burbea: https://dharmaseed.org/teacher/210/talk/12309/

When we talk about tending to causes and effects, it helps to understand the Five Jhana Factors that lead to trusting cause and effect. The basic Sloth and Torpor sense of a lack of motivation is dealt with by simply applying the attention span to the object of concentration, the breath. With sustained examination of the breath, whether it's long or short, the sensation quality of the breath, how it feels, the mind lets go of doubt because the best way to deal with doubt is to return the mind to the breath. Distractions are normal and its the repeated return of the attention span to the breath that lets the mind drop doubt. The irony is that skeptics who say they don't believe in Jhanas and think they don't exist, they experience the same jhanic momentum at work, and talk about self-consciousness going away and time being less of a drag. It's the same thing. As time passes with repeated returning of the attention span, the mind lets go of the sense of lack and aversion toward life circumstances. When aversion is reduced, automatically the mind moves towards rapture, delight, and pleasure because of that release. As the mind then relaxes any over-excitement at these results, there's a sense of emotional feeding that is well fed. There is contentment, joy, and gratification. Like a person who's not desperate for wealth, clinging, greedy, and obnoxious, the person who is used to their wealth, they are content and relaxed. They finished the meal, feel full and satiated, and now are just sitting there with a toothpick. This contentment leads to restlessness and worry becoming relaxed as well. The sense of scarcity and panic is relaxed. Sensual desire eventually begins to look a little gross at this point because of the burden of having to maintain this effort in concentration. Effort is progressively let go of. Rapture in (Jhana 1) moves towards bliss in (Jhana 2) because the mind senses drawbacks related to the hindrances, and it naturally wants to escape towards bliss where the onepointedness and sustaining is more automatic and momentum is stronger. As bliss begins to appear too sugary and smooth, and a sense of a gross vibration, there's an escape into satisfaction (Jhana 3), of being well fed and content. That contentment means that aversion is more distant, and it's clear that these concentration states are a form of cocoon, and each progressive jhana a more deeply ensconced cocoon than the prior. That contentment of feeling emotionally satiated and full eventually leads to more restfulness, when both pleasure and the pain associated with defending pleasure, are dropped for equanimity (Jhana 4). The conditioned mind involves stress with pleasure because pleasure is simply stress that feels good, where as aversion is stress that feels bad. These practices help to relax and atrophy the use of the aversion and anger parts of the mind that obsess about external power and how to maintain external wealth against others who encroach and the exhaustion of trying to manipulate physical and social structures to maintain superiority. By dropping those draining thoughts, the mind can now explore peaceful equanimity.

Five Jhana Factors - Insight Meditation South Bay: https://www.imsb.org/wp-content/uploads/2014/09/FiveJhanaFactors.pdf

In MN 111, there are also insights to how the mind can see that jhanic momentum fades and it takes a lot of your time to be able to develop these states. "...Known to him those states arose, known they were present, known they disappeared." As good as these states are for well-being, they require repetition and cultivation forever. Any long periods of time where jhanas aren't developed, there's a weakness of the muscle and the skills go into atrophy, just like any other skill. Though, as Thanissaro describes above, replacing more crude forms of entertainment with jhanas, and realizing that one can make time for these practices, there's really not a sacrifice in doing these practice when looked at this way.

These practices are life-long and so if one succeeds in directing the mind to equanimity again and again, practitioners can gain a facility to let go of a sense of density in the body and the perception of forms. The mind lets go of the perception of diversity in order to escape the body into the cocoon of infinite space. A sense of 3-D awareness includes a lot of tension related to bodily location, a breath location and the sense of inside and outside. The mind finds the space between experiences of solidity as more restful and eventually the attention span merges with space. All these senses of location and solidity are forms of tension. Then subtly tuning the mind to notice the sense of knowing, and how it doesn't have a sense of limitation like sensations do, can be a deeper cocoon than space. It's not disturbed by anything that happens in consciousness. Shaila Catherine says that "knowing is activated without grasping particular things that are known." The sense of knowing can still have a sense of "I'm knowing over here towards objects over there" but when attempting to find a standpoint or location for consciousness, all that is encountered is void. There is no place for consciousness. Even the voidness can then be "perceived" and the attention span has to still any intention to move towards any so called "thing" and intention or effort is stilled in the sphere of neither perception nor non-perception. The unstained awareness doesn't require movement, intention, or objects to perceive, though there is still a subtle sense of duality in that there's a subtle sense of time in the present moment and that the state can end. Any analysis becomes an impediment to this state. "There is absolutely nothing to do in it. In fact any activation of intention, feeling, resolve, or mental activity abruptly ends the absorption." There is a potential for perception, but no thing can be recognized and labeled. At some point, perception itself appears gross and one can drop into cessation of perception and feeling. Daniel Ingram has a nice video on this advanced attainment and describes it as "a very smooth, complete, and surprising power-failure of all experience, with body, thought, and mind itself vanishing in that order...The mind will at some point power up again, arising smoothly in the reverse order, with mind, thought, and then bodily sensations reappearing in that order." The afterglow of rest can last for hours and into the next day. Of course, long retreats make it easier to attain these higher jhanas because of the hours and commitment it takes to master The Jhanas. You are creating a polished and smooth consciousness with these Jhanas and they provide a sense of rest and safety from a vipassana insight practice where a sense of weaning and resistance can be quite powerful and destabilizing. Both sides of the practice help each other out.

Focused and Fearless - Shaila Catherine: https://www.isbns.net/isbn/9780861715602/

A Mind Without Craving - Delson Armstrong: isbns.net/isbn/9780984049752/

Nirodha Samapatti - Daniel Ingram: https://vimeo.com/248566139

There are also more open types of concentration that include the sense of automaticity of unconditioned sensation and the easeful operation of regular functions. When you "let the meditation meditate" you are allowing the mind to let go of micro-managing automatic functions, and gaining a sense of relief from a "do-er" that is cranking up the meditation. This sense of freedom points to even more freedom as the addictive mind leaps out naturally at experience and recoils back on its own as it sees its own pain and dullness. Sangharakshita describes this as "Directionless or the Unbiased. The Directionless Samādhi is a state in which there is no particular direction in which one wants to go, there is no preference. One just remains poised, like a sphere resting on a completely horizontal plane, with no reason why of its own accord it should roll in any particular direction. The Enlightened mind – the mind established in samādhi – is like this. It has no tendency or inclination to any one direction because it has no individual or egotistic desire. This is a difficult state to describe, but perhaps if one thinks in terms of a perfect spontaneity, without any urge or impulse to do anything in particular, one may get somewhere near it." One goes through what are described as Vipassana Jhanas, which are states of reactivity to stimuli with non-reactive equanimity that is similar to Sangharakshita's description. The addictive mind resists renunciation, then lets go, and this back and forth over time leads to a cessation non-experience of Nirvana, which has to happen on its own. Stream Entry. This "Directionless, Unbiased" territory of equanimity is a difficult one indeed. Daniel Ingram is probably the best at teasing out the variety of details in equanimity.

"Speaking of Equanimity, there are also a reasonable number of practitioners who make it past the Arising and Passing away, hit the Dark Night, and get to Equanimity. They may go through a few rounds of that, and finally manage to get relatively established in the high end of Equanimity and stay in that general end of the territory for some extended period and possibly even until they die. They don't attain stream entry, but they have done something impressive. This attainment typically is relatively transformative. Many may mistake this for more formal awakening, but it should neither be underestimated as a spiritual attainment nor denigrated, as being relatively stabilized in Equanimity is vastly better than what most people achieve during their lifetimes; Equanimity can provide numerous valid insights as well as emotional and psychological benefits. Would I advocate that they push on into stream entry? Of course! Still, plenty of these practitioners derive enough satisfaction from this level of insight that motivation and inspiration to go further may drop off significantly, and they may continue to derive real and valid benefit throughout the rest of their lives from this achievement." So this is kind of like being stuck in equanimous happiness.

Daniel describes this territory as formless realms of infinite space up to neither perception nor non perception versions of Equanimity. That tends to make the equanimity more expansive, spacious, and all encompassing so as to be a kind of quick sand of an attainment. The mind has to find the three characteristics of all phenomena: impermanence, dissatisfaction, and not-self, including consciousness, and let go of experience on its own. People also tend to be good at one characteristic over another. Their entrance into cessation can appear differently depending on the doorway. "The impermanence door aspect relates to realizing what is 'between the frames' of the sensate universe (formations), and it tends to have a dat.dat.dat-gone! quality to it, as if all of space has stuttered three or four times in very rapid succession (about a quarter of a second or less for the whole thing) and disappeared...The suffering door aspect has to do with fundamental attachment, dropping attachment like a hot coal that we finally realized we were holding, really letting go, compassion, ultimate bodhicitta, the true love of God, being purged in the flames, renunciation, relinquishment, and feeling the fundamental queasy tension in the illusion of duality for just a bit longer than we ever would normally. The suffering door relates directly to 'the mind' releasing its fixation on the whole of relative reality and allowing the whole of it to fall away completely, meaning away from where we thought we were. It can also feel like all existence is suddenly ripped away from us. In this, as with the other doors, the mind followed a phenomenon to its final and complete disappearance and didn't do the strange, blinking-out, glossing-over thing that it typically does regarding this gap between moments...[The no self door] relates to observing directly the collapse of the illusion of duality, the collapse of awareness into the intelligence or cognition of the perceived. It is a bit like staring back at yourself (or something intelligent regardless of whether it looks like you) with no one on this side to be stared at and then collapsing into that image. Sometimes there is just the collapse without any obvious image for those without strong visual tendencies."

Ñana and Jhana Mind Map - Daniel Ingram: https://vimeo.com/69475208

Mastering the Core Teachings of the Buddha - Daniel Ingram: https://www.isbns.net/isbn/9781911597100/

Within Buddhism there are many avenues for developing personal behavior, including the Brahmaviharas, loving-kindness meditations, and devotional practices based on imitation. Part of the practice is to learn these different lifestyles of what one considers a well trained master, and to emulate their qualities. The classical ten fetters that one is to be free from are 1. identity view, 2. doubt, 3. beliefs in rites and rituals, 4. sensual desire, 5. ill will, 6. having a desire to be reborn in the world, 7. having a desire to be reborn in celestial realms, 8. conceit over attainments, 9. restlessness, and 10. ignorance of dharmic reality. Through imitation, a devotional student, and even students who feel they've attained stream entry or more, they still remove confusion by relying on lists like these to see how the mind runs in its habits and to confirm if they've really achieved these personality changes. There is a danger of course with dogmatically following these lists and simulating their effect. The reality is that one would have to continually dip into Nirvana and repeatedly see fetters fall away naturally for a list like this to be authentic. Devotional types may be fine with following rules, but there will always be a tension related to suppression of desire and aversion.

The Fetters That Fall Away at Stream Entry - Ayya Santussika: https://www.dharmaseed.org/talks/67117/

Now that this series is complete, and each of the stations of the eightfold path intersect, this is a good time to look at what life is like with these practices and whether one wants to do them at all, or if one only wants to partly develop the practice. This is a religion from between the 6th and 4th centuries BCE. There are certain views that people had back then, and one of them was rebirth. A lot of what these practices are about is a sense that our emotions and clinging keep us tethered to future lives, and how we behave in this life will affect how good or bad it is in the next life. Like beliefs in Jesus Christ being the Son of God, when those beliefs are VERY strong and believed as if completely true and concrete, these premises lead to motivations towards practices. A stream-enterer, someone who has attained Nirvana for the 1st time, and then eventually an Arhant, who is without clinging, they all progressively move out of needing to be reincarnated precisely because the goal is to avoid future praise, blame, success, failure, gain and loss for infinity. Rob Burbea, when facing cancer himself, described this mentality and motivation..."It’s a whole body of teachings that are set within the cosmology of rebirth, and that human beings, like animals, etc., are just infinitely reborn, again and again and again, and awakening, liberation, arahantship is the ending of that cycle of saṃsāra, of being reborn again and again. You have to really imagine for a second – even if you don’t believe it – just imagine yourself in that cosmology. It’s not just a few births; it’s endless. Endless cancer, endless being murdered, endless losing of people you love, endless separation, endless betrayal in romance, endless your children dying, endless pestilence and plague. It just goes on and on and on, and then you get some good bits, and they go too. So the import of what awakening meant in that cosmology, it’s enormous...An arahant has ended rebirth; they’re no more reborn into that endless cycle of inevitable misery. A sotāpanna, a stream-enterer, is said to have a maximum of seven lives left. So in the context of that cosmology, to have just seven lives left is like, 'Oh, thank goodness! I’m almost done. I’m almost out of this meaningless, endless cycle of dukkha and suffering.' Nowadays, I don’t know what proportion of people actually buy into that whole cosmology, really, in that sense. And we live, most of us here – and I’m saying this as someone who’s dying of cancer – we live actually pretty comfortable lives. So we don’t have that whole sense of what they had before – no antibiotics, no painkillers, nothing like that...What does it mean then? For many people who have just put aside that whole rebirth thing, what does awakening, liberation, arahantship – what does that mean? What significance does it have? Relative to that sort of infinite dukkha, the infinite dukkha of endless rebirth in saṃsāra, if I say, 'I’m seeking to live without suffering,' how does it sound? How does it sound to you? If you have really a lot of suffering in your life, that’s going to be very attractive – 'I’m seeking to live without suffering.' If we turn it around and say, 'My purpose in life is to be free of suffering,' how does that sound? 'I want to go through life without suffering.'"

Stream Entry - Rob Burbea: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1jYqNGiiX2cmOppb0_ZESpraGgbsoP5ir/view?usp=sharing

What Rob was getting at is that a world with more comfort, modern medicine, modern palliative care, they may provide enough comfort for some people that being free of suffering may not be the main goal. A lot of what we want is what we don't have. There are people who have no need for psychotherapy, they experienced little trauma, and their adult mental environment is resilient to criticism and bouts of low self-esteem. There's also an element of love and beauty that many people would like to inhabit beyond unflappable equanimity. "One of my teachers from many years ago, I remember her saying in a talk – I can’t remember the context, but she said something like – 'Well, if that’s liberation, you can keep it.' In other words, she was relying on her own sense of what liberation should deliver, what the path should deliver. So a person says, 'I’ve lost this fetter, I’ve lost that fetter,' I’m looking at them, Narayan is looking at them, and I want you to have the same right. It’s your right to look at someone – of course you don’t know everything about a person – to look at them and say, 'Do I want to live like that? Do I want to be like that? Do I want to be that kind of being?' A person, they say this or that, and you hear this or that about them, but you look at them and you get a sense of them, you get a sense of their life. No one can take that right away from you. They might be in a tradition where they’re honoured and this and that. No one can take that right. And even with me, you can look at me and you could say, 'Nyeh, I don’t want to be like Rob,' you know? That’s absolutely your right. Or, conversely, you look at someone, and you say, 'There’s something there, or somethings there, about the perfume of that existence, about the way they’re living, about what they emanate, how they relate to life. I want that. There’s something I want there.'"

Reflections from Narayan Liebenson: https://gaiahouse.co.uk/in-memory-nl/

Right Concentration - Thanissaro Bhikkhu: https://www.dhammatalks.org/books/FactorsforAwakening/Section0009.html

Paths to Liberation - Robert E. Buswell, Robert M. Gimello: https://www.isbns.net/isbn/9780824814175/

The Buddha's Noble Eightfold Path - Sangharakshita: https://www.isbns.net/isbn/9781899579815/

Maha Cattarisaka Sutta: https://www.dhammatalks.org/suttas/MN/MN117.html

Samadhi Sutta: https://www.dhammatalks.org/suttas/AN/AN4_41.html

Contemplative Practice: http://psychreviews.org/category/contemplativepractice/

[wolint]

EMOTIONAL TEST

EMOTIONAL TEST

Psalm 7:9

 

We are all emotional beings and emotions are the core of every human being and we all exhibit differently. The expression of our emotion reflects the way we react to things, people, and circumstances. Our emotional state is in turn a reflection of our inner beliefs. Our text implies that God tests or tries the affections and motives of man, He tries our emotions until we’re purified to maturity to glorify Him.

Emotions often express themselves through pain, fear, envy, greed, despair, bitterness, anger and much more and a lot of us are slaves to impulses-we are unable to stop ourselves from expressing what we feel. Sadly, we give voice to every feeling, and emotion, whilst some can barely control their actions, because, unfortunately, not everyone has the fruit of the spirit, self-control as seen Proverbs 29:11.

Genesis 4:5-7 tells us how Cain got angry and hostile towards his brother, Abel and God, his facial expression was what God referred to in verse 6-7, God tells him, even as He tells us today to control our emotions. Anger and despondency are a dangerous combination, the combination that convinced Cain that killing his brother was the right choice.

How many lives have been destroyed because of anger? How many people are out of jobs, marriages, and homes because they could not control their emotions?

Even God our Father, passionately expresses His emotions in the pursuit of a relationship with His children; The Lord expressed grief at the rebellious life of His people, God’s states "my heart is turned within me" in Hosea 11:8, an indication of His grief.

The Lord expresses anger when we stray from His path, righteousness as He did with Israel, recorded in Jeremiah 2:11-13.

The Father exhibits delight when we return to Him, as seen in Luke 15:11-32, the case of the prodigal son.

There are others like Moses, David, Samson, and Peter, I could go on about several other characters who allowed their emotions to rule them but suffice to say the only lasting cure for emotional issues is in spiritual realignment.

Emotions are a sign that one is alive because the dead don’t feel anything. No matter who you are, there will be periods when you feel more emotional than usual. You may wake up one morning and feel like breaking down and crying for no reason. You may feel sad or depressed; you may feel that nobody cares about you, or you might feel sorry for yourself. During those times you must learn how to manage your emotions and not allow them to manage you.

At such times, our feelings will get hurt very easily. The slightest thing might make us angry. Emotions are very fickle and unreliable! They can be one way now, one day, and entirely different the next day.

Emotions when expressed in a good and positive way is meant to compel us to take godly actions to address ungodliness, unrighteousness and injustice like in 2 Timothy 1:7.

Emotions are a gift from God but as important as they are, we must never be ruled by them-us must subject our emotions to a will that is yielded to God as prescribed in Proverbs 15:18.

Emotions, for some people, is the most honest of their make-up, since, emotions come from the heart, it is as real as it gets. Emotions are to be expressed in a godly manner to avoid hurting ourselves and others and to glorify our Father.

Emotions must be controlled, or we may be the person described in Proverbs 25:28 as a broken city without walls.

Rule your emotions! Don’t let them rule you!

PRAYER: Lord, you made me and knitted my make-up, help me by you grace to control me emotions, so that they don’t get the better of me in Jesus’ name.

Shalom

WOMEN OF LIGHT INT PRAYER MIN

[emptymanuscript]

You know, as the Democratic Party fundraiser texts are getting into the 1 text per 1 hour range, 1 tph, I have to wonder about the ratio of investment, effort, infrastructure, engagement, and return.

I can’t help but feel that if the Democrats fiddled with those first three - say putting 9/10’s of even that relatively low amount of energy that went into messaging me at 1 tph - they would actually get a much better result on the last two.

If they did something BIG, a progressive accomplishment which everyone could easily see, I suspect that they would get more money at even a significantly reduced tph.

I dare say they might get more dollars $ at .001 tph as a reward for a job well done than they get at 1 tph as a plea to keep trying to stop people from stopping them from doing their job.

That’s just me though.

AND I admit that I am locked in. With my understanding of the world, I can’t, in good conscience, vote for or support anyone but a Democratic candidate for a given post. But this is because I am essentially voting my conscience against the Republican candidate come general election time.

I’m not really voting Blue as much as I am voting anti-Red.

So every text feels like preaching to the choir. I’ve already been sold on the idea that Republicans are dangerous and have to be stopped. I literally changed my party affiliation in 2015 because I realized I had hit the point of anti-Redness that I would Vote Blue No Matter Who, whatever the letter next to my name was, so I might as well leverage that letter instead of maintaining the illusion that I was actually independent.

And anyone who hasn’t seen CCP Grey’s videos on Politics in the Animal Kingdom should really check them out for a fantastic and easy explanation for why that’s a problem. I believe Minority Rule is the first video in the series: https://youtu.be/s7tWHJfhiyo?si=Pykn9h6PkkzorMKK

Or I guess you could just insert it, that’s fine too, tumblr.

The problem is that unless there’s a viable alternative in the Democratic Primary for a given position, I’m probably not voting FOR anybody.

Because, yeah, I’m voting Blue strategically. Anti-Red. Because I am so far to the left of the Democrats that me voting for them is just… yeah, no.

So, whatever, I guess.

I am really kinda feeling the EMOTIONAL appeal of the give up crowd this year. EMOTIONALLY, I hate everybody. I don’t want to vote for or support anyone. Or at least not anyone that I am actually able to vote for.

So it’s become pure LOGICAL calculation. I know I have to support and vote for the Democrat. Or I will get something much worse. LOGICALLY, there’s no contest, it’s downright simple. The debate IS stupid.

That just doesn’t make me FEEL good. It isn’t good for engagement. It is in the category of take your meds to survive.

I will Vote Blue No Matter Who. I will give them time, energy, and money. I will encourage everyone else to do the same. Because that’s what will keep us alive.

I would just appreciate a little bit more sugar to make that bitter pill go down.

And I would like to have a better argument for why we deserve to live than simply because we exist. Like, yeah, that’s enough. But existing, living, and thriving are three very different things. I am really tired of feeling like I’m entirely in that first category.

Hmmph. Depression sucks. And Politics really doesn’t help it. :/ nothing helps that much really :/ but Politics makes it worse, I think. We’re so far down the wrong path that I feel like it’s hard not to feel a little like maybe cutting off life support would be a mercy. I just know that’s my depression talking. I know Imperius (my part X, the part of me that wants to be sick). I know that motherfucker lies. He lies especially when he tells the truth because he is a goddamn expert on quoting the exact facts that will lead me back to him and obscuring those truths that might lead me away. He’s a liar because he is Trumplike - he’ll say whatever, anything, he doesn’t care, he’ll even tell the truth on occasion, as long it serves him. Truth and falsehood and lies are tools for him to manipulate me. He literally doesn’t care. All he cares about is keeping me doing what he wants. The ends justify the means.

And he just loves pointing out that I am making the same calculation when I do anything for Biden just because I am Anti-Trump.

Fuck off, Imperius.

[dailyaudiobible]

5/4/2023 DAB Transcript

Judges 19:1-20:48, John 3:22-4:3, Psalm 104:24-35, Proverbs 14:22-23

Today is the fourth day of May, welcome to the Daily Audio Bible. I am Brian. It is wonderful to be here with you today, around the Global Campfire as we gather and take the next step forward together. And our next step forward leads us back into the Book of Judges. We are very near the end of the Book of Judges; we will conclude the book tomorrow. But that then and this is now. And so, we have another full step forward together in the Book of Judges. And so, let's dive in, we’re reading from the English Standard Version this week, Judges, chapters 19 and 20.

Commentary:

Okay so, we are in the final story in the Book of Judges, and it is a profoundly dark chapter in the lives of the children of Israel, when Israel had no king, and everyone was doing what was right in their own eyes. Which is something that the Book of Judges repeatedly tells us so that we don’t forget what's going on here. And this story definitely is a dark one, a story of a man and his…his concubine, sort of like a common-law wife. She was unfaithful to him. He lived in the remote parts of the hill country of Ephraim. She left and went back to Bethlehem and then several months later he went to speak kindly to her, to see if the relationship could be restored and repaired. And that's when we meet her father who wants the man to stay, and stay, and stay, and stay. And so, they all stay a lot longer than they were planning to stay, but eventually the guys like not going to be convinced to stay another single day. And so, they leave and as the sun is going down and they need to find shelter there are opportunities for them to find shelter. But the man makes the determination that they're not going to stay with anybody that's not from their homeland. They're not going to stay in the city that's not an Israeli city. And so, they end up in the Israelite city in the tribe of Benjamin, in the city of Gibeah. So, they're waiting in the town square, they’re waiting for hospitality. If there's no hospitality, they stay in the town square. But that seems to be a dangerous thing. And so, when an older man comes in and says where are you going and where have you come from, one of his words of counsel is don't stay how here in the city, in the city square, come into my house. Which is what happens and then the house is surrounded, and all of a sudden, this story is, it has a lot of resemblance to the story of Sodom and Gomorrah, except for one very distinct thing. These were all Israelites, the people of Sodom and Gomorrah were not, the people of Gibeon knew this story. And they surround the house, and they want the man. And as it turns out, it's the man's concubine who gets pushed out the door and there's like no way to sugar coat what the story is, she is raped and abused to death. And she ends up on the doorstep with her hand touching the door dead. Like there's no way to make that nice, it's not supposed to be nice, the Bible isn't telling us this story so that we feel flowery and great about it, it's showing us where paths lead and how our choices matter. If we just begin at the beginning of the story, she was unfaithful. That's where the story starts, she was unfaithful. She goes back to Bethlehem. Her husband goes after her, they reconcile. Had they just gone according to plan and gone on home, they would've gotten home. But the father-in-law is keeping pressing them to change their minds and stay longer and stay longer. And so, they end up leaving in the late afternoon, instead of in the morning, they could've stayed in Jerusalem. They wanted to stay among their fellow Israelites. So, they go to Gibeah. And then all of this stuff is perpetrated and it's horrible, it's absolutely horrible. And the story in the Book of Judges is letting us know, yes, you’re reading a horrible story here. The man takes the body of his concubine back to the hill country of Ephraim and does something pretty grisly. He divides her into 12 parts and sends her to all the different tribes of Israel. That sounds absolutely horrific and it is but it sounds that way, as we contextualize it. This is the equivalent of a message going viral. There wasn’t an Internet, there wasn't, there wasn't even a car. There wasn’t mass transportation, there wasn't mass communication. But this would indeed get the attention of the recipient. If a body part shows up at the tribal headquarters, people are going to want to know what is going on here and that did spread as we would understand it today, virally because 400 thousand people gathered over this incident. So, the Bible is not condoning this incident, what we’re finding is that there is outrage over this, as there should be. So, 400,000 people gather to hear the story of what happened and when they are told what happened their response is appropriate. Nothing like this has ever happened in Israel before. Basically like, how could something like this even happen here? What are we supposed to do? And what they decide to do is bring justice, which sets up a scenario for civil war, because the Israelites approach the Benjaminite’s and say look, here's what happened, give over the perpetrators, they deserve punishment, justice needs to be served. Only the Benjaminite’s won't. And so, they gather all of their troops together to defend their tribesmen, even though their tribesmen had committed a atrocities so severe that everybody's talking about it. And that creates the scenario for a war, a civil war among the people of God in the Book of Judges, where tens of thousands of people die. And as we left the story today, the tribe of Benjamin is all but completely annihilated. We will finish that story tomorrow as we finish the Book of Judges and then we will be moving into new territory in the Bible tomorrow. And this story is one of the darkest stories that we encounter in the Bible. And so, not to be complete spoiler, but I just need to tell parts of the rest of the story and then we’ll read the parts of the rest of the story and then move into new territory tomorrow. What we have right now are about 600 people hiding at the Rock of Ramon. That’s all that is left of an entire tribe of Israel. The tribe is missing, like they're really, like there's 11 tribes and 600 people in a tribe that has been destroyed because they stood up for injustice and it caused catastrophe throughout Israel among all of the people. Many people died. And the children of Israel, the rest of the tribes have already determined that they will not, they will not intermarry, like they're breaking connection with Benjamin. So, they make this promise and then they realize that there's a tribe missing and it's a sad scene. And they figure out how to replenish the tribe. But Benjamin will be the smallest tribe now obviously. Very, very soon from now, we will begin starting to transition ourselves toward the children of Israel, especially after things like this happening, deciding that they want a king to unite the tribes, to be a monarch over them, to lead them into battle, to sort of be the figurehead, to keep them solidified as one people. And we will meet that king, his name is Saul. And Saul has a ton of stuff to teach us. But as Saul relates to this story, what we are going to find as a redemptive thread, after all of this mayhem that we’re reading about today, time will pass. The tribe of Benjamin will begin to regrow. And God will choose a king to reign over Israel, as Israel's first king, King Saul. Saul came from a hometown; the hometown of Saul was Gibeah. The same city where all of this went down. And Saul will say yeah, but I'm from the smallest tribe, from the smallest family, who am I. So, out of these ashes that we are reading about right now, will come Israel's first king. And we will get to that soon enough.

Prayer:

And Father, we invite Your presence into this. It's really just, to have lived that would've…would've been really, profoundly, traumatic. To read of it is traumatic, to just be, turned inside out about the whole thing, makes us feel very like, this is…this is a story that doesn't belong in the Bible, probably because it is. Probably because it's a story that shouldn't have happened and because it did, we now have it as a cautionary tale to remind us that our choices matter. And when we determine that we are going to stand up for injustice and evil, mayhem and destruction are very, very near us. And yet, as the decades would go by, and as things would continue forward, You chose Israel's first king from the very spot of these ashes and this destruction. You continue to put things back together that are broken and most of the things are broken because we have a broken then. And we all make mistakes, and we all make choices that are wrong but when we’re not paying attention and we compound one wrong with another wrong, with another wrong, with another wrong, where will the path lead but complete catastrophe. And so, we come to You, Holy Spirit, realizing that although the story that we’re reading is extraordinarily graphic and dark one, our stories don’t reach this level of mayhem, we still know what it looks like to make wrong choices and then chase them with others that lead us down a path that is only going to end poorly. So, we come to You with open hands and open hearts and say, Holy Spirit, show us the path that we are on. Show us the path that we are supposed to be on and show us the route to get there and off any wrong path that we are walking willingly, knowing full well that no matter the ashes of our lives, redemption can come forth, because You put back together, what is broken. You are a Redeemer, You are The Redeemer of our souls and we give ourselves to You, believing fully that You will lead us on the narrow path that leads to life. Come, Holy Spirit, we pray, in the name of Jesus, we ask. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com, that's home base and that's where you can find out what's going on around here. And alternatively, the Daily Audio Bible app is available free from the App Store that works with your phone or tablet, just search for Daily Audio Bible and you can have that, right on your device. Check out the Community Section. This is the place to find the different links to social media channels that we participate in. It is also the place that the Prayer Wall lives. This is where you find the Prayer Wall, it’s in the Community Section. And I talk often about it. And I will talk often about it, this is something that's here for us around the Global Campfire and it's always on and never off. We can always go and ask for prayer; we can always share the story of what's happening in our lives. And we can also always go and pray for our brothers and sisters and encourage them. It’s like this immediate thing that's always there for us. So that's in the Community Section. But you can also check out the Daily Audio Bible Shop and all the different categories there of resources that are available. So, check it out and get connected in any way that you can.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible. Thank you, thank you, humbly, we are in this together and that's why we are in this at all, and thank God that we are. So, thank you for your partnership. There is a link on the homepage at dailyaudiobible.com. If you’re using the app, you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner, or the mailing address is P.O. Box 1996 Springhill Tennessee 37174.

And as always, if you have a prayer request or encouragement, you can hit the Hotline button in the app or there are a number of numbers that you can call, depending on where you are in the world: in the Americas 877-942-4253 is the number to call, in the UK or Europe 44 2036 088078 is the number, and if you are in Australia or that part of the world 61 3 8820 5459 is the number to dial.

And that's it for today, I'm Brian, I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Prayer and Encouragements:

Hello, my DAB Family, this is Lib, I’m calling from the UK. I’ve come to just a give a little bit of encouragement for anyone who is struggling, anyone who thinks that God is far away and is not listening. You know it seems like life is just not happening the way it should. I had something happen yesterday, yesterday evening. Today is the 25th, so it happened on Monday, the 24th of April. My, we locked ourselves out. You know, there was key on the back of the door and my husband rushed out of the house on his way to work and forgot to take his key out. And I was on my way to work and then he called and said, my keys are in the door which means, when you come back you will not be able to come in. And I thought, oh well, as usual I go to my neighbor’s house, this is not the first time it’s happening anyway. And I’ll climb through their balcony and come in through my kitchen door. But then something happened in the evening when I was coming back with the children, and it was raining. And then I remembered, oh I can’t go in and I thought, I said Lord, I can’t climb, it’s raining. All I could see was myself falling off, you know, from that height, trying to climb through. And I went, I can’t climb, it’s raining. You know, and then when I was approaching the door with my boys right beside me and I just kept saying Lord, I can’t climb, I need a miracle. I turned the key the first time, it didn’t work. Turned it a second time, it didn’t work. And I just kept saying, Lord, I need a miracle. I turned it again and the door opened, and I screamed. You know, my greatest joy when that happened was my boys were there. So, for me it was a way, I saw it as building the faith of my children. You know, cause I always tell them anything that you want, ask the Lord, He will do it. So, for anyone who is struggling, ask the Lord.

This is the Burning Bush that Will Not Be Devoured for the Glory of our God and King. This is my second time recording this, my phone just totally shut down halfway through my prayer request, prayer, I’m sorry. For Darlene, her granddaughter, Sophia who’s struggling with Anorexia. So, right now, we pray in the name of Jesus. Father God, I pray that You hold back the evil that’s causing Sophia to not eat. I pray that in the name of Jesus, she will be healed. Father God, You understand what’s going on in her mind. I pray that You heal her mind and her body, in the name of Jesus. I pray for her spirit, I pray for a full deliverance, in Jesus name. Holy Spirit, I pray for a full restoration, that she will begin to walk in what You’ve called her to be, Father, greatness, Father, we speak greatness over her right now, in the name of Jesus. We praise You, oh God, that Lord, that she will be healed, not only physically but spiritually, Father. I pray that in the name of Jesus that she will be freed, Holy Spirit. I pray that You would send Your angels to protect her right now in Jesus name. Even in the hospital, I pray that You will help her to recover. I pray for a speedy recover, Father God. In the name of Jesus, complete. I pray for Devine healing over her. And I pray for her family. I pray for Darlene. I pray, oh Lord Jesus, that You will give them comfort as they go through this. I pray for wisdom for her parents, in the name of Jesus. And whatever it is, what be it emotional, mental, or even physical that she’s struggling with, Father God. You know. I just pray for healing. You touch her, in the name of Jesus, I pray. Amen. I love you guys. Talk to you later.

Hi, this is Amy in Olympia, Washington. I’ve called in a few times before, but I think I would like to start going by Running for Jesus. But anyway, today I’m calling in for my friend and asking for prayer, on her behalf. Her name is Samantha and she’s in the hospital with COVID pneumonia. And she’s fighting for her life. And she’s only in her 30s and she has a special needs daughter at home and her husband is home with her daughter and they’re out of sick leave and it’s just this really discouraging and this seemingly hopeless situation for their family. And it’s not looking good for my friend. They tried to intubate her, and her lungs are so damaged that even that was too much. And so, she’s on a special machine that’s taking the blood out and oxygenating it and putting it back into her body. And they’re also talking about a possible lunch transplant. So, I’m just asking that, that you as a community will pray with me and help me pray confidently that…that God would heal her lungs. I know that He is a God of healing. But it’s just really hard to not feel scared and discouraged for them. And it’s just really discouraging for me like, I just keep asking like why. Like, how can a mom that’s healthy and so young have this happen to her. But yes, if you could just pray for me that God would heal her lungs and that I’ll be able to call back with good news.

Hi, Daily Audio Bible Family. I have lifted countless prayers for this community. I’m a retired single mom and I can’t, I can’t quote them all right now, but just trust and believe that I am daily tuned in and praying for the needs of so many people in this community. And I need the same in return please for my 20-year-old son who is in college but he’s not reaching his full potential because he is struggling with chemical dependency on marijuana. And it is interrupting his relationships and he’s, his, he has other issues that are causing him to go into these psychosis type moods and it is really, really not only separating him from the love of God but also just interrupting his life in every way. And I cannot reach him. And I’ve tried everything to reach him, and I have prayed every prayer and so has his grandmother. And I just need help lifting up my beautiful son to become what God really created him to be and to pull him out of a life of darkness. He’s overtaken with darkness and he’s often very depressed and on this hopeless and this is the only thing in the world that matters to me right now, is the success and the life, the life and the wellbeing of…of my only child. I just need these prayers. My heart is breaking, and I really need these prayers. And I appreciate this community so much.

This is Tilly from Florida, calling on the 26th of April for The Dude from Florida. Dude, I’m also from Florida. I’m on the east coast by Melbourne, Florida on a beach community. What you said bore witness to me in many ways, particularly when you mentioned how you’re, you wouldn’t want to hang around your siblings, other than that. You know, I have 5 siblings, one of them is already passed way. But fortunately, I still have my twin sister and that’s really the only person out of five that I even communicate with. So, I get it and won’t go into it. It’s generational. Father God, I lift up this gentleman to You. I feel his heart and probably could write his story for him. Dude, you’re lifting up before the Lord by me, a person well acquainted with the things that you’ve gone through and go through every day. And I felt that in his spirit, really strong. Father God, as he goes on his trips and for the rest of his life, give him the grace and the peace to forgive his family members and to walk in wholeness and beauty. Have Your Holy Spirit leading and guiding …

Good morning, this is Dana from South Carolina. Today is April the 26th, I was listening to people praying for Libby in Australia. So, I went back and listened on the 19th to hear her request. Libby, I’m praying for you. I too, as a child, had some things happen to me that didn’t realize I, there was an option of speaking out. That I now know as an adult, that that has affected me in a way that, that if I ask for help or that I feel like I’m weak. I always feel like that I have to always be in control of every situation. And I pray, if that’s the feeling that you’re having, that there, if you feel weak, or feel like you’re not in control because you’re asking for help, I pray that the Holy Spirit would just come in and remove that feeling of…of feeling that you’re weak or shame or guilt, that Holy Spirit would remove that and God would wrap His loving arms around you and there would be such a peace and such a presence that you can cry out and speak out. And I pray that those things that have happened to you, that it would be a testimony to other people around you that would help them to grow and to speak out so they too, could help another person. That that feeling of being alone or being weak or it’s just no longer there. And that you would be strengthened by that, and you could strengthen other people. In Jesus name. And I thank You Lord that You’re doing this for her. Holy Spirit, rest on her today. In Jesus name. Amen.

[mysteriaqueen]

The Traveler's Journal

Day One Part T3 | <Prev • Next> | Word Count: 700 words

After the two disturbed the stranger and the blue dragon they go to investigate what was left behind.

Paimon floated ahead, much faster than Jaylenth, who had a cautious but relaxed pace. Jaylenth heard her call out to her from above.

“Be careful! Paimon doesn’t have a good feeling about this…” “Yes, because floating over there swiftly is careful,” She muttered, picking up the pace a bit. “What was that? Paimon couldn’t hear you!”

Jaylenth climbed atop the rock and ‘repeated’ what she said.

“Yes, because it is important to be careful.”

Paimon looked over at Jaylenth, slightly puzzled.

“So, whaddo we got here?” “Paimon’s never seen a stone like this before, so Paimon can’t tell what it is.” “How inconvenient,” Jaylenth said, putting a hand on her hip. “All Paimon knows is that it’s dangerous. Best we put it away for now.” “If you say so.” Jaylenth snatched the crimson crystal and packed it away. “Okay, we’ve got it! Now let’s get out of here.” "Back to heading to Mondstadt.”

And the pair did just that. Jaylenth hopped down from the rock and they followed the path with the occasional “ooo! Mushroom!” detour. But as the pair walked, they heard a perky young girl call out to them.

“Hey, you! Stop right there!”

A young girl, dressed mostly in red, ran off a cliff behind them, rolling as she landed. She brought a fist to her chest and then swiped her arm down in some strange sort of salute. She spoke again.

“May the Anemo God protect you, stranger!”

Jaylenth blinked at the spectacle before her and resisted the urge to check in with Paimon to make sure she wasn’t imagining it.

“I am Amber, Outrider for the Knights of Favonius.” “A what for the what-?” “You don’t look like citizens of Mondstadt-” “-Because we aren’t-” Jaylenth interjected. “Explain yourselves!” Paimon waved their hands around frantically. “We’re not looking for trouble.” “That’s what all the troublemakers say,” Amber said matter-of-factly, crossing her arms. Jaylenth stepped forward and waved. “Well hi, I’m Jaylenth.” “.... Doesn’t sound like a local name to me,” Amber replied, narrowing her eyes..

The Outrider looked between two; her eyes settled on the small floaty one.

“And this… mascot, what’s the deal with it?” “Paimon’s my friend.” Jaylenth looked at her guide fondly. “We’ve only been traveling partners for two months, but…. We’ve already become the very best of friends!”

The pair smiled at each other.

“So to sum it up, you’re traveling partners, right?”

They nodded in response.

“Well look, there’s been a large dragon sighted in Mondstadt recently. Best you get inside the city as soon as possible.” “Sounds reasonable.” Jaylenth nodded. “It’s not far from here, I’ll escort you there.” “Okay-” Jaylenth tried (and failed) to hide her taken aback-ness. “Aren’t you out here for some other reason?” Paimon asked. “I am. But not to worry, I can keep you both safe while doing that too. Besides…”

Amber eyed the two suspiciously once again, placing her hands back on her hips.

“I’m still not sure if I can trust you two just yet!” “Why so suspicious?” Jaylenth raised an eyebrow, tilting her head a bit. “Oh, ahh… I’m sorry. Probably not something I should say as a knight.” “Eh, honesty’s the best policy.” “Nono, I give you my apologies, uh… strange yet… respectable travelers.”

Does that really count as an apology?

“That sounded so fake!” Paimon yelled, putting their hands on their hips. “Do you have something against the type of language usage prescribed by the Knights of Favonius Handbook!?” Amber retorted, equally offended.

Did she just- get mad at us…? After she basically insulted us? Huh.

“Oh no! Not another slime!” Paimon yelled, pointing behind Amber. “Awwww cuuut- Why is it flying.” Jaylenth stared. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this!” Amber said as she prepared for attack.

With perfect aim and just one shot from her bow, Amber defeated the slime.

“Wow. Nice shot.” Jaylenth said, still staring at where the slime used to be. “Thanks! Now follow me.” 

Amber started off towards her objective

“Shiiiiit, Paimon, did you see that? She can escort me any day.” Paimon rolled her eyes. “Jaylenth, get moving!”

[w-ht-w]

Judginess can outlive its usefulness in the modern digitized world

Social media gives onlookers the opportunity to scoff at a person’s every choice

in pre-modern times, judgment helped keep people safe. Judgments were alarm bells allowing humans to distinguish between toxic and harmless food, trustworthy and untrustworthy tribe members, and hardworking and lazy kinspeople, ... The role that automatic judgment plays...is social signaling, social norm reinforcing.

Judgment is also a signal that someone’s behavior is unusual or out of context to your particular in-group

But in today’s mobile, digitally facilitated world, judgment can take on new, toxic forms, ... When you silently cast judgment on someone from afar based on an Instagram story, you don’t get feedback from other people — or even the subject of your judgment — and you don’t learn how to make comments or critiques in a constructive way. (1)

Judgment is biased/personal, discernment is more ethical (serving the greater good):

Discernment, on the other hand, can help you identify unhealthy and toxic behaviors, ... it’s important to detect when someone’s attitudes and beliefs pose a threat to others’ rights and well-being. Unless someone’s behavior is actively harming themselves or others (in which case, you should name the behavior, tell the other person how you’re feeling, and set boundaries on how you’d like them to act moving forward), learning to curb petty moral righteousness is possible, but requires slowing down your thoughts and having some empathy. (1)

be mindful of + reframe your judge-y self-righteous impulses:

In order to reframe judgmental thoughts, you need to catch them in the act. “We have to pull back and go, ‘I’m being judgy, I don’t really want to do that,’” ... “If we come to notice we’re doing something that is unhealthy and pause and stop it, then we are far less likely to go down that path,” (1)

At the end of the day, our digital personas are part of our personal personas because it’s how we choose to share our lives, our interests, and what matters to us to the world. If anything, most people only represent a curated version of themselves on social media, so shouldn’t it be a representation of what they hope and aspire to be as a human?

I do think there’s an important distinction though to make between thinking less of someone because of their social media presence versus realizing you’re just personally not into what they’re sharing or portraying. “Good for them, but they’re not for me” should be the motto. (2)

Empathize/understand where you can, but don’t compromise on the important:

it can be easy to assume that someone who doesn’t share your beliefs is “evil or stupid,” ... Instead of reacting aggressively in an attempt to change their mind, [try] thinking of a good-faith reason why someone would think this way as a means to slow down the judgment process.

For example, when it comes to relatives with differing political opinions, [think] about how the loved one ended up believing what they believe: the media they consume, the people they surround themselves with.

“Curiosity is the antidote for judgment,” 

Of course, you should never compromise on important moral and social issues, ... Relationships with people whose views are antithetical to your own will have to be renegotiated ... if you want to maintain contact. But you can control your initial assumptions of them based on their beliefs. “What function is expressing those judgments serving right now?” ... “Am I trying to build consensus about an issue or am I just trying to wave my flag ... (1)

You can’t force others to change, or single-handedly save them from themselves

There are very few things you can do to convince people your way of thinking and living is ideal. Save for the occasions where someone’s behavior is dangerous and harmful, ... [it’s best to] focus only on what you can control. ... our behaviors, our thoughts, and our actions.

“You can’t make somebody value the things that you value,” ... “All you can do is try to gently demonstrate that valuing the things that you value makes the world around you better and people will want to move there in some intellectual or moral sense.” (1)

1. https://www.vox.com/even-better/23188518/be-less-judgmental-tips

2. http://thecoolestlife.com/is-judging-someone-on-their-social-media-presence-shallow-or-accurate/

[halliescomut]

So now we’ve kind of wrapped up the individual stories of the Sweater Kids and we’re going to move on to how the other versions of Stray Kids are a part of the story. So, the only version of the Kids that LiSA interacts with is the PA version. We see her meeting them at the edges of these cliffs, and then they stand together at the end, but visually, I think that the Red version of the Kids is the one that matches most closely with he aesthetic that she’s brought to the MV. And I say in my original watch video that the thing it brings to mind, that final image, is a Queen surrounded by her loyal knights.

And honestly, even bang Chan’s styling with the cross on his sweatshirt reminded me of traditional representations of the Knights Templar.

But moving back for just a second to discuss the Red Kids, The first ones we see are Han and Seungmin (Han with the red flag), and in both shots they’re sort of outside of this building, like it kind of make me think of manor gardens, but also a little bit of the sort of manicured grounds of something like a boarding school.

The thing about the Red Kids, is that in the moments outside of the dance during the chorus, there’s a bit of an undertone of dangerousness, or lethality. It’s subtle with Han and Seungmin, two of the Kids well known for their cleverness in particular, and then a more physical aggressiveness in the clip of them breaking through the PBP crowd.

At this point you have Lee Know at the front, followed closely by Changbin and Bang Chan, then the rest. And the feeling I get is that they are searching, and the way the MV tells the story implies they are searching for Sweater Bang Chan, eventually ripping open the wall to get to him.

As far as what the Red Kids are doing, the story reads to me almost like LiSA sent them to find the Sweater Kids, to save them. But as for what they represent, I keep circling back to the idea that the color red is often used to imply confidence, the use of red lipstick, red suits, red ties, it’s a color so bold that it can’t be ignored. That’s why it’s used for things like stop signs and fire trucks.

So, thinking about how Sweater Kids are sort of stuck in these situations in opposition to the PBP, where they feel under attack, overwhelmed, the Red Kids being confidence that comes in and sort of pulls them out of those spirals. Helps them to remember that they are these wonderful, smart, talented, and incredibly dedicated people. Where we end up with is this sort of interesting math equation where Sweater Kids + Red Kids = PA Kids, I guess.

When we see the PA Kids (the Knights) reunite with LiSA, it’s in a world ablaze, and the lyrics for her section of the chorus repeat again. “I’m gоnna look back, the ashes prove my Pasѕion аlways burns etеrnally. Nо regrets, I love this feеling Down on thiѕ road, call іt the social path.”  The visual metaphor of now seeing the world on fire gives the impression of them as a group sort of burning down the world, cutting off or destroying the places where they were being held captive, and now moving forward, sort of burning your bridges. Another potential read is something like being reborn from the ashes of your struggle, which touches back to Changbin’s verse in the beginning of “blast furnаce crystal, gold that becomеs strоnger. Increaѕe the hardnеss, mаke it solіd.” 

And I think it matters that as they move forward, it’s being done as a group. They’re not alone, they have each other. I think it’s very pointed and intentional that we never see the Sweater Kids together, not even just a couple of them together at a time, they’re always alone. So now in the end we have the entire group fully united. And also interestingly, because of the inclusion of LiSA in that final frame, if we consider that this song is based around their trainee days and the fight to debut…it’s interesting that we’re still presented with 9 in that final frame. (I’d also like to point out that we see yet again the structure of Bang Chan centered, and Lee Know and Changbin on the outsides, again giving an impression of protection of the younger Kids.)

Well, that's all for this episode of Hallie gets way to deep into things instead of doing her laundry. I hope you enjoyed.

To Bang Chan: Social Path M/V Breakdown

Ok, so I wasn't doing this in an effort to write a 3 page essay about the MV for Social Path as Bang Chan instructed, I was just genuinely engrossed with the messaging and visuals that I wanted to talk about it, & then we ended up here.

Alright, so this is going to be me talking through what I was feeling/gleaning from both the lyrics and the visuals for Social Path…

TW: Self Harm and/or suicide (spoken about very delicately, but it's there), anxiety, depression.

First for context: PBP mean Paper Bag Posse and refers to the people with paper bags on their heads throughout the video.

I am using Sweater -- , Post Apocalyptic --, and Red -- to refer to the different wardrobes worn by the Kids throughout the video.

Sweater Kids

Red Kids (Yes, I know not ALL of them are in red, but it’s most and it’s fine.

Post Apocalyptic Kids (abbreviated on PA Kids)

If we are going to create an overarching story…here’s what I see. Sweater Kids are trapped somewhere with the nameless/faceless PBP. The Red Kids come for them, and as the PA Kids they find LiSA and stand together at the end.

As far as the symbolism of the PBP, I think their faceless-ness is entirely intentional, they can be anything and anyone.

Watching Sweater Hyunjin’s story specifically through the video, it made me think of faceless accounts online, antis leaving hateful and hurtful messages, and we start with Sweater Hyunjin just sitting on the bed, the PBP is there, they’re watching him. Then when we return, they’ve come in closer, fully invading his space, even putting hands on him, and he’s afraid, he makes himself small in the face of all of these figures.

Later, when he’s pushing through them, he’s not afraid anymore, if anything I’d say he’s angry. It very much reminded me of the feeling I had when we got the choreo video for Play with Fire. How that was one of the first things we saw after his hiatus. And that performance to me has such a feeling of anger but also defiance and determination, and that’s the same emotion I’m seeing in the final scene for Sweater Hyunjin.

Sweater Changbin, it’s really interesting, because he only appears in the sweater for one scene, almost completely un-cut. He’s tossing and turning from a nightmare, is shocked awake by either the nightmare or the storm outside, it’s ambiguous, but the small flash of nightmare we see is these grabbing hands. He moves from the bed to the window, watching the storm, which combined with the lyrics of the sun rising tomorrow, kind of gives the feeling of him saying I can weather this storm.

Sweater Han also only appears in one portion of the video, during which he is in the mirrored room. He’s also chained, unlike IN who is the only other KID to appear in the mirrored room. We’ve seen the sort of glass case before, in Lonely Street, when Hyunjin is actually inside of it, and Felix outside. In that video it’s an image that gives this heartbreaking sense of isolation and being lost (astray), which is then multiplied when you realize Felix is actively seeking Hyunjin, but unable to find him. This idea of being so close yet so far.

But it’s different here with Han. His emotions here, there’s fear, there’s confusion, even sadness.

I do think it’s particularly interesting that Changbin and Han are the only ones we don’t see with the PBP, which I think is interesting. It almost to me indicates that their ‘enemy’ isn’t other people. For Changbin, this idea combined with interviews and things in the past, makes me think of how he’s talked about how he can get stuck in the dark thoughts of his own mind.  That while he tends to be quite silly sometimes, his solitary thoughts do tend towards darkness, and that’s part of why he often finds himself with the other Kids, because that helps to pull his mind away from those things. With Han, it’s a similar vibe, less that his mind is a place of temporary fear (like Changbin’s nightmare) but more that it can be a prison.

One that keeps him stuck in multiple ways even, both being inside the mirrored space itself, and also being chained.  In terms of him being in the mirrored room, a space where he sees himself no matter where he looks, it feels like being forced to perceive your true self, and it’s a contrast to IN inside the mirrored room, which we’ll circle back to.

Next, I’m going to talk a bit about Sweater Lee Know. We find him, again surrounded by the PBP, on the bed, and they’re all sort of holding him aloft. And as we watch we see them reaching their hands over the edges of the bed, reaching for him.  It comes to a point where the last shot we see of Sweater Leeknow, he has made himself small as well, wrapping his arms around he’s knees, and sort of pulling away from all the edges of the bed.

Now since his scenes are intercut with Hyunjin’s and even Seungmin’s I get the vibe that the PBP here could be faceless internet people, but the holding him aloft thing….that makes me think of holding him on a pedestal, like putting him out of reach in a way. It’s sort of a new layer of isolation. But the other thought I had, especially with the context that much of the lyrics were reflections on their trainee days, was that what if these were trainees as well, not the other Kids, but just other trainees at JYPE. I’ve talked some before about how I think Lee Know’s age combined with his previous experience as a professional dancer set him apart as a trainee. Now this sounds positive, and is in many ways, but being set apart because of your talent or skill level is also quite isolating. I’ve also talked about how I think his skill and experience as a dancer also led to higher expectations in other areas (vocals/rap), leading to greater stress when those things didn’t come as easily as dance. I also don’t think those expectations were all external, I think Lee Know himself was often holding himself to a standard far higher than was reasonable based on the time he was given to learn these new aspects of being an idol. While I maintain that his elimination was essentially done for views, that doesn’t stand in opposition to the understanding that he had nowhere near the amount of practice time or past experience of the others in terms of his vocals/rap, but where he needed to be given grace, instead he was eliminated.

Next is Sweater Seungmin. Like Hyunjin I think he has one of the bigger arcs we see in the story of the MV. When we first see him he’s fleeing the PBP, it’s very frantic, they’re in a small hallway that feels almost claustrophobic.

When we come back to Seungmin, he’s calm. The PBP have caught up with him and surrounded him, but he’s not making attempts to break out, he’s simply standing. They’re also not reaching for him anymore, seemingly satisfied that he’s been ‘caught.’ Now I would almost think something along the lines of ‘music soothes the savage beast’ and Seungmin’s angelic voice is enough to stop the PBP in their tracks, but what I really kind of feel in the moment is more akin to him no longer caring. His casual stance, the hands in the pockets, it’s not just “I’m no longer afraid” it’s “You have no power here”.

It’s a similar idea to what we see with Hyunjin, but where Hyunjin fights back with this sort of passionate fire, Seungmin has instead employed this cold disinterest. In terms of how this relates to Seungmin’s own journey as a Stray Kid, one of the observations I’ve made and seen over the past year or so is Seungmin’s increased confidence. I think he’s always had a level of confidence in his singing abilities, though even in the SS we saw him actively working to improve the way he brought emotion into the lyrics of their songs, making his performance not just technically perfect, but also emotionally touching. This is a skill he’s been complimented on by many, including very notably Changbin. But his own, sort of individualized confidence as Seungmin the person, I think has been building over the last 5 years as he’s matured and he’s very much come to stand as his own man in the last year or so.

IN…Oh, IN is so fascinating in this MV. He’s always slightly different from the other Kids. Firstly, while everyone else shows this fear of the PBP, Sweater IN never does. When we first see him, they're in the corridor again, but IN is completely still. The PBP walk around him, practically not noticing him at all.

When we see him again, he’s crouched, then begins to stand, reaching up to a light. Around him are more PBP, sort of moving closer to him, but still there’s no fear, his movements are calm, fluid.

Where we've see Han in the mirrored space, IN is there as well, but it’s not Sweater IN, it’s PA IN. And again there’s no expressions of fear, and what makes this interesting, is that if the mirrored space is meant to sort of convey this idea of being stuck in your own mind, of having to truly perceive yourself, IN is able to do that without distress.

When you take his actions that are a direct opposite to every other Kid in the MV and combine it with the lyrics he repeats…it tells an interesting story. “They’re making me laugh, it’s so loud. Waking the demon that’s hiding inside.” Now in SKZ lore there’s always been some interesting things going on with IN, whether he’s a villain, or has ulterior motives of some sort. And even outside of the LORE, he’s frequently used as this unassuming but dangerous thing. The most direct example of this being the Freeze MV story, where we find out that IN is in fact the sort of villainous mob boss that they were tracking, and he had infiltrated them. But what makes me pause, especially with the lyrics, especially with IN’s behavior in the MV, is the sort of context we often hear the word demon in in regard to Stray Kids. So, my immediate thought was a clip from Chan’s room, where he says “be proud of that little demon inside you” but it also brings to mind the concepts for maniac about how we often keep our true selves hidden for fear of reprisal. So with IN, I feel like we’re almost meant to feel like he’s become one with himself, he’s sort of reached this level of self-actualization, he’s not afraid to be his true self, so why should he fear these faceless crowds, or looking himself in the mirror?

Channie, oh Channie, this one…it’s affecting, I’ll give you that. So, Sweater Chan’s story seems the most confusing to me. The first clips are of Chan floating in just this dark void, then we find him running from the PBP, who catch up to him eventually, pushing him against a wall and many of their hands coming to his throat. When we find him again, he’s in the red-shaded room, surrounded by the PBP and he’s like starting to float up.

So, the question is: him floating above the PBP, does it circle back to him floating in the black void, or are they separate things? I lean towards separate, since we also get a small glimpse of Chan sort of jerking awake form a nightmare. It sort of feels to me like these are almost a series of nightmare situations. We have total isolation, Chan alone in darkness. We also have Chan sort of floating up and away, and if we stick with his theory of the PBP can be anyone, I almost sort of feel like in that moment they’re trainees again, and this is debuting. But where it should be joyous, it’s reminiscent of death scenes in film, where a soul ascends to a new life, perhaps the death of youth as one moves towards the future? Moving back to the Chan that’s being chased, I’m certain there’s significance to the idea and the visual of all of these hands coming up to his neck, and we have a couple potential options.

In this moment, I almost feel like we’re back to the faceless strangers with the PBP, and that this is perhaps suffocation, but something that kept niggling at my brain was the lyrics “еverуоne keeps turnіng mе down.” It’s incredibly common for all of 3racha to create lyrics that can be perceived in a myriad of ways, and while interpreting this phrase through a lense of social interaction, you think ‘turning down’ as in not wanting to date, be friends, hang out, etc. Turning down the opportunity of your company.  But looking at it from the perspective of a musician, it makes me think of turning down the volume, essentially silencing them. And that’s kind of the visual I get here as well, Chan being silenced, or feeling unable to speak, in the ‘face’ of the PBP.

Finally, we have Sweater Felix. We start off with Felix in the bed, just sitting in the center, and while he does, the PBP is surrounding him, but they’re not still, not like they were with Hyunjin.

Here we see something like a timelapse, and Felix is still, but the PBP has people moving in and out of frame around him, which I actually didn’t really notice my first several watches, it wasn’t until I started editing the video to sort of make individual stories that I saw it. And what it brings to my mind is the zoo, like Felix is an exhibit, sitting perfectly while people come and observe and leave. It gives the feeling again of that isolation, but also captivity. When it cuts back to Felix, he’s now standing on the bed (literally taking a stand) and, we hear the lyrics “Them voices in my heаd again, I gоtta shakе ’em off now”. What I particularly find concerning is that when we return to Felix the third time, he now has the angel wings, and the lyrics now are “No way back to the past”.

Now we know that none of 3racha, or really any of the Kids shy away from talking about deep topics, they work hard to put them into their mainstream songs, but even beyond that they tackle very complex and potentially dark topics in things like the SKZ-Records where they have a lot more creative freedom. So, I don’t find it outside of the realm of possibility that the Sweater Felix scenes could refer to instances of people going to extremes to escape negative voices, and it’s not the first instance we see of Felix being representative of such ideas, there’s a similar visual metaphor in Lonely Street, of Felix holding a finger gun to his head before turning it on his shadow.

And the reference to voices could mean negative voices like depression, when we say the PBP can be anyone/anything, it could be ‘Felix’ under all those bags, a concept Stray Kids has touched on before in their song Voices. But it also could mean negative voices coming from other people, things like bullying, and with the facelessness aspect of the PBP, things like cyberbullying. These are issues which everyday people deal with, but are also rampant in the KPop space, not just for Stray Kids, but for all Idol groups.

I will be back with a second portion, I'm out of images :) per Tumblr post rules.