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snowfieldstories · 7 days ago

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In Life and Death [Chapter 3]

Kim Dokja x Reader/Original female character

In Life and Death Masterlist

Warnings: strong violence and trauma, language

A/N: This beginning part was tough to nail down. I'll probably go back and revise because I'm not totally satisfied with it.

Summary:

In which a reader finds herself tossed into the pages of her favorite web novel after her untimely death. A novel of a novel within reality. It's a reader's dream, right? Well, this reader vows to bring the right epilogue to her beloved character, Kim Dokja. She will give him the happiest of endings. Or she will die trying.

⚠️MAJOR SPOILERS FOR ORV WEB NOVEL AND MANHWA!!!!⚠️

(Hahaha sorry about the gif but I have to laugh about it or I'll cry)

Episode III. Chapter 3 — A Ruined World: Round Two

Yoo Joonghyuk traveled at an awfully fast pace. We encountered a few frenzied ground rats, which we dealt with at once, and even more ground rat corpses further along.

My sword of light cast a dim glow in the tunnel. Joonghyuk, it seemed, felt no urgency to speak with me and forged ahead, leaving me with a delightful (read the sarcasm) view of his back.

The tracks continued on but our supposed conversation did not.

With this extra time to myself, I considered revealing that I was a fellow regressor. The possible benefits were surely worth it; we could collaborate over future plans more easily and prevent possible disaster. I led Dokja to believe that I wouldn't—but I wanted to let Joonghyuk know that he wasn't alone in this never-ending series of regressions. That somebody, anybody, had a small understanding of what he endured.

I remembered him. I knew this Yoo Joonghyuk, even if he didn't fully know himself.

We walked for a time with nothing to fill the silence except for the occasional scurrying of distant ground rats.

I swung the blade of light a few times and eyed Joonghyuk's back. I thought I could take him on if it came down to it. Sure, he would overpower me in the end, but I was much quicker and more agile than him with my 'Fleet Foot' skill. I could get away if he attacked. Maybe.

Sorry, Dokja. "I'm a regressor too."

After growing used to the rhythmic footsteps ahead of me, the sudden falter caused me to jerk back.

"I know."

What? My tense muscles loosened in shock. I had been expecting a sword through the chest, an anger, questions, or really anything but that.

"I used 'Sage's Eye' on you already."

Still... "But there's a censor on my stats."

I opened my attributes window for the first time since arriving in this turn. My stomach dropped.

"Shit, are you SERIOUS?!"

In fact, all of my information was on clear display, with the exception of one part marked by a series of "???". I cursed myself for stupidly not checking it sooner.

Then I shivered. Joonghyuk could have easily slaughtered me while I was unconscious after discovering a fellow regressor. No—he could have killed me immediately after seeing me on the bridge. He should have. This is Yoo Joonghyuk of the third round; a suspiciously powerful anomaly like me was grounds for instant elimination. The "2nd turn" label must have been my saving grace. Or maybe...maybe he sensed the past...?

"Just the one. What is it?" he asked.

"I have no idea." I felt a tick of annoyance as Joonghyuk's 'Lie Detection' activated and rang true.

There was a second stigma besides 'Regression' but I honestly couldn't recall what it might be.

We stopped for a water break at Yaksu station. Joonghyuk cleared the area of ground rats and a few people that tried to ambush us near the toilets. I used that time to thoroughly inspect my attributes window.

[ < Personal Information > ]

Name: Choi Yeona Age: 27 Constellation Support: Mother of Divine Desire Personal Attributes: Avid Reader (Common), Maladaptive Daydreamer (Rare), The Architect (Legendary), Regressor <2nd Round> (Legendary) Exclusive skills: [Sacred Light Lv. 5], [Rationality Lv. 9], [Fleet Foot Lv. 6], [Lie Detection Lv. 2], [Memory Enhancement Lv. 4], [Buff Lv. 4], [Bank of Lady Fortune Lv. 2], [Wire Transfer Lv. 1]... Stigma: [??? Lv. ???], [Pinpoint Regression Lv. 1] Overall Stats: [Stamina Lv. 15], [Strength Lv. 20], [Agility Lv. 22], [Mana Lv. 16]

Damn. It's no wonder I couldn't hold the bridge of light after the first scenario. I immediately boosted my stamina and mana levels with some coins, a bit embarrassed at how much lower they were to the others. Level 18 each should be good enough for now. But my other abilities were decently powerful.

Though I was disappointed to see that a lot of the skills I'd collected last round were weaker or missing, things had also been added. The 'Wire Transfer' skill, for one, and a couple new personal attributes. I skimmed past the first two—Maladaptive Daydreamer made me cringe as I recalled my escapist tendencies in my first, pre-transmigration life—and settled on the third. The Architect. I expected to have earned an author attribute after drafting my story of the last turn, but this was more curious. What sort of application did this attribute have?

I eyed the stigma section next. 'Pinpoint Regression' was at level one, as expected for my first turn, but just what was the stigma before it?

I thought of my last turn. There was a memory, a wiggling sensation, that I could almost grasp. A voice.

「 A re you dy ing for re al ?! 」

I screamed and clutched my head. There was an excruciating pain, like two hot pokers had been jammed through my eyeballs into the flesh of my brain. Once the feeling dulled and my vision returned, I scrambled for the aspirin and gulped down a few capsules. My attributes window still glowed in front of me.

[Memory Enhancement Lv. 3]

I frowned at the change, but before I could question it further, Joonghyuk stood. "Let's move."

...Did that asshole really just sit there while I was in such obvious pain? I glared at his retreating back. Yes, yes he did.

We moved in tandem, clearing the way with unspoken precision. Joonghyuk hadn't yet commented on 'Pinpoint Regression.'

"You're...weirdly casual about this."

Joonghyuk glanced at me. "Should I not be?"

"I thought you killed other regressors."

"I do."

It went uncomfortably silent. Well, I guess only uncomfortable for me, because then Joonghyuk huffed.

"Regressors usually know too much. But it's only your second turn."

I was rather miffed. Was he calling me ignorant? "Who says I don't have my own plans?"

There was no response to that. I was ready to pepper him with my own questions, but he turned sharply to stop me in my tracks. My grip tightened around my blade.

"How were we acquainted in your last turn?"

"Um." I searched for a good half-truth. "We were companions, of a sort."

[A few constellations are frustrated at the filter on this conversation.]

[The constellation 'Secretive Plotter' observes you cautiously.]

I was not a fan of two Yoo Joonghyuks steeling their gaze into me.

"I've never seen you before."

It was a weighty accusation. How could I possibly explain away my lack of existence in previous rounds?

"You saw how my stigma is 'pinpoint'? I can jump into other regression worlds, so you couldn't have seen me in any but my first." Joonghyuk's brows furrowed. "Our regression world-lines must not have overlapped for you until now."

I hoped playing off the unheard specialty of my stigma would get him off my back. Whether he accepted my explanation or not, it silenced any further discussion on the matter.

We soon reached the edge of the tunnel just before the entrance to Chungmuro.

[ Sub-scenario — Phantom Prison has begun! ]

The last thing I saw was a silvery fog sweeping into the tunnel before a haze overtook me. I could no longer see Joonghyuk ahead of me. Colors and shapes slipped just out of my grasp, and I was unsteady on my feet.

There was a loud grunt, then, thump! "Joonghyuk!"

I pitched forwards, trying to reach him, but I tripped and rolled until I heavy foot stopped me. The heel dug sharply into my ribcage.

「You're no hero.」

A woman leaned down, her long hair moving to reveal a deep, gnarled scar knotting from her forehead down through her right eye. Her mouth grinned, the torn and gaping flesh in the corners revealing too many teeth.

I tried conjuring a blade, arrows, anything, but sacred light was silent. "Please," I whimpered.

The voice that followed was something hateful.

「'Angel,' they call you. It is not one of salvation, but of death.」

「Death follows you.」

The weight on my chest grew heavier as the broken body of a young boy replaced the foot.

"Ha-joon," I cried, my bloodied hands shaking as I clutched his cold skin. "Ha-joon, please forgive me."

「It should have been you.」

His unseeing gaze seemed to agree with her.

I shifted, cradling the boy my arms and rocking back and forth. Tears slipped down my face and I looked down, only to find that the body was no longer Ha-joon, but a head-blown man in a suit. His blue tie was dark with blood.

"Dokja." The name was hoarse as it escaped my lips. Dokja, Dokja, Dokja.

He felt so real beneath my fingers. I was lightheaded and nauseous all at once, and I knew these were all memories long past but this past was paralyzing.

Rough hands wrenched me back by the shoulders.

「You think you're better than us?!」

The passengers of train carriage 3607 surrounded me, suffocating me with hands and words.

「In the corner, crushing your little bugs. How dare you!」

「Arrogant bitch!」

「She wants us to die!」

「Thought you were sneaky, did you?」

Centered in the mob, a gaunt, lanky man pointed his finger at me with a cruel twist to his features. 'Nosey Parker' himself. He was the one to pick me out with that dreadful skill of his.

[The skill 'Sacred Light Lv. 5' has been activated.]

He was also the first one I ripped into with my blade. I then swung blindly at everyone, though whether in rage or desperation, I wasn't sure. There was little resistance despite their bluster.

An angel of death.

Their bodies lay in pools of flesh and blood. My hands trembled, the golden knife casting a sickly glow on my skin. I cancelled the skill.

It was a moment too soon.

I grasped at the force that now choked me. The pressure grew stronger and I wheezed.

「Hands up!」

I squinted at the light blinding my eyes and cast them aside, my eyes landing on the familiar orange, mid-century sofa and walnut floorboards. The click of a gun snapped my attention back forwards.

「Let her go. No one has to get hurt.」

I gasped at the cold metal pressing hard into my throat above the hand. And a muttering in my ear.

「She's mine. Mine. You can't take her, you don't deserve her! She's perfect—you'll ruin her! She's MINE.」

The blade gouged into my skin, the hand cutting off the air from my lungs. I tugged in vain at the unyielding arm at my throat, and another force pinned my squirming body down. My vision began to blacken and a shot rang out.

「Yeona—!」

"...Yeona."

I was lying on my back in the tunnel. The pressure at my throat lessened, and I could breathe. In and out, in and out. A tear slowly tracked down my temple and into my hairline. The smell of damp earth was grounding.

At my now-stationary body, the person above me eased off my torso and limbs. Yoo Joonghyuk sat back on his heels, eyeing me warily. I surged up and loomed over him.

"Why the fuck would you think it's a good idea to grab me by the neck?" I spat in his face.

"You needed to snap out of it."

"Maybe you have a choking fetish." He shot me a withering glare. I gripped his shoulder with maximum strength, looking him square in the eye. "Don't ever touch my fucking neck again. If you do I'll kill you."

Even though I certainly wouldn't, my tone was dead-serious. Joonghyuk's attention was sharp on me until I released him and backed away. I set about dusting off my clothes and checking my gear.

"Phantom Prison."

I grunted.

"It forces you to relive your most painful memories and traps you there to unleash madness." I didn't have the heart nor energy to tell him I already knew. "Did you not encounter it your previous round?"

"You're awfully chatty."

In fact, I had gone through this sub-scenario before. But back then, there were only two memories worth torturing me with: Dokja's death, and my own. And seeing as my memories post-transmigration were choppy at best, I hadn't experienced much difficulty escaping the prison. It was Joonghyuk and Han Sooyoung who needed saving instead.

A blue message distracted me.

[The constellation 'God's Lone Soul Courier' has noticed you.]

I had seen this modifier once before, midway through my last round. It was the same message as that time. Though I strongly suspected their true identity, I wasn't sure if it was smart to acknowledge him.

I decided to let it be.

Joonghyuk had moved to the tunnel's exit and—surprisingly—waited as I finished collecting myself. We passed through.

Chungmuro station was empty. At least, there was no one to greet us in the immediate area of the platform. There was a harsh noise above us.

We hurried up the stairs to find a horde of people surrounding a high school girl. Several men held her arms back while others attempted to grab onto her kicking legs. "I'll kill you! Ugly, nasty ahjussis!"

Whether these men were of Gong Pildu's Landlord Alliance or not didn't matter—Lee Jihye was in trouble.

[Incarnation 'Choi Yeona' has activated 'Fleet Foot Lv. 6.']

[The exclusive skill 'Sacred Light' had been activated!]

I whipped a thick cord of light and caught one man's arm, yanking back so that he sprawled on the ground. The others cried out. "There!"

Joonghyuk swiped once with his sword and cut down three men. I sidestepped one that lunged at me, stabbing him in the back with sacred light.

The men were enraged. "That girl attacked us first!"

Jihye regained use of her arm and sucker punched her nearest assailant in the face. It left a satisfying crack.

She turned to grab her sword from the one holding it, and another jumped at her back. I flicked my wrist and twisted the whip-turned lasso around his body, binding him. Jihye wrestled with her sword. Joonghyuk, having eliminated the surrounding threats, slashed the man struggling with her.

Jihye turned around just as I was stabbing a knife through the soft underside of the final man's chin.

Her eyes were wide. "You two..."

"Hey." I pushed the stray hairs out of my face, grimacing at the blood. "I'm Choi Yeona. What's your—"

Jihye spun back around to gape at Joonghyuk. "Teach me!"

He cleaned his sword with an apparent disinterest. "Why?"

"Please! I will do anything and everything you say," she said, offering out her own sword with a slight bow. "I want to learn sword fighting from you and become stronger."

Crafty emo bastard. Teenagers always want more what they are seemingly denied, that which is just out of reach or deemed "inaccessible." It also helped that he possessed an unfairly symmetrical face.

Joonghyuk finally looked up, appraising, and nodded once. Jihye gushed out her gratitude with stars in her eyes. "I'm Lee Jihye, by the way."

"Yoo Joonghyuk."

"Master," she said in a way that was both breathless and earnest.

[A few constellations look upon this new Master-Student relationship with great interest!]

"I'm here too," I muttered.

I was ignored by all.

There weren't many constellations I was close with in the last round. I sometimes exchanged messages with Mother, but she was not someone I could contact for the time being. I hardly knew any others in this regression. (Even Uriel had abandoned me, probably keenly looking after Jung Heewon as she bloomed into a fierce sword of judgement right about now.)

Joonghyuk gave quiet instructions to Jihye to which she nodded fervently. After all was said, she skipped away to do who knows what tasks for the strict and fussy regressor.

I pulled a granola bar from my backpack in the meantime, missing having someone companionable to talk with.

Dokja, Sangah, everyone...please arrive quickly.

As if he had read my thoughts with an omniscient skill, Joonghyuk sheathed his sword and approached me. "Kim Dokja. Is he really a prophet?"

I gave him a careful glance, swallowing the last bite. "Yes, but not in the traditional sense."

Joonghyuk hummed. He surprisingly wasn't using lie detection, or at least, I wasn't receiving notifications about it. But one could never be too careful.

"Once this next scenario is over, I will go with Dokja to capture the flags; I want to send him on the 'King's Road' as quick as possible."

"No. He will follow me."

I felt a spark of indignation. "You don't have a claim over him. He has his own goals, and I will be by his side, helping him."

"The prophet is more useful at my side."

"Like hell," I said angrily. "He may very well be your companion now, but he is my Dokja first!"

He stared at me hard and then groaned, disbelieving. "You fool. Love has no place in this world."

My face heated. "I never said—"

"You didn't have to."

"Listen—"

"Shut up and you listen. You may love freely in this turn and in the next, and so on, but you will learn very quickly what it means to hold on to that love. To lose it over and over again. To never see its conclusion. Love is not meant for us; a regressor's life is meant to be lived alone."

"He is not Lee Seolhwa."

I regretted my words immediately at the sad, embittered look on Joonghyuk's face. But I stood my ground.

"Dokja is not her. And anyways, this is my final turn, so I don't have to worry about such things."

Joonghyuk didn't respond. His anger had waned some, but now he held a sort of resignation, a pity, towards me. In his eyes, I was a mere child on my second turn at life—what was one try to a thousand failed attempts? Even though Joonghyuk only possessed memories up to his third turn, the instincts honed from 1,863 regressions had shaped this man's mindset. If only he knew that this would truly be his last.

"You should allow yourself to love this time, too, Joonghyuk."

He looked at me for a long while, then he blinked and scanned my face, taking in my closeness. In a toneless voice, he said, "Thanks, but I'm not interested."

I jerked back. This conceited egomaniac! "No—! Obviously, I meant Lee Seolhwa! Where did you get such a big head?"

Only because I had known 1863rd Yoo Joonghyuk for years was I able to spot the barest hint of amusement in the corners of his neutral expression. It was good to know that a sense of humor still existed somewhere in that scrambled brain of his.

Even if it was at my expense.

I grumbled curses at Joonghyuk and turned away. There was nothing pressing to do at the moment, so I left him in search of the largest green zone in Chungmuro station.

It was time to recruit—or dominate—Gong Pildu and his Landlord Alliance.

Ground rats were easy enough to hunt and gather, but no one cared to mention the smell and the way their coarse, thick hairs clung to your clothing and left a rank, oily film all over.

I deposited the last few carcasses next to my earlier haul. In the three days I had been here, we burned through the meat supply terribly quick. I knew wiping my hands on my pants would do nothing to reduce the gross feeling and stench, so I headed up to the toilets. There was a buzz of commotion.

A crowd had gathered around Gong Pildu's great plot of land. I spotted Sangah's light brown hair from behind, and rushed to push my way through the bystanders.

"No, you and that kid are 1,000 coins."

I burst forwards in time to see Dokja's face grow tight with anger.

[You have invaded private property!]

The turrets all aimed at my body now.

"Gong Pildu, that is too much." I glared at the potbellied man who straightened up when he saw me. "A 100 coins each. And I'll be the one paying it for them."

His turrets moved away at once. "Yeona, you know these boys?"

Dokja and Gilyoung jolted out of their excitement at the obvious familiarity with which Pildu spoke to me. I crossed my arms at Pildu and he drummed his fingers on his stomach nervously. "They invaded my property," he tried again.

"I've said I'll pay the fee," I said calmly. "Let them pass to the toilets. Now, please."

A conflicted expression crossed Pildu's face. Then he sighed and deactivated the turrets, waving a hand at the two beside me. "Fine then. You got off easy this time...lucky free riders."

Dokja looked very much like he wanted to snap back a retort, but I gave him a light shove towards the bathroom door. I gestured for our other companions to follow, and Sangah shot me a grateful smile as she passed by. I reached out my index finger to Gong Pildu.

He shook his head. "Nah, I don't want you paying me, girl. Family doesn't pay."

Yes...apparently my luck extended far beyond Kim Dokja and even my expectations. And I didn't have to use my luck bank either. By some ridiculous coincidence, Gong Pildu's daughter was named "Yeona" as well. I had discovered this in the last round, but it never served me any advantage back then. Now, with his family's death still fresh on his mind, Pildu immediately brought me into the fold when I had introduced myself. He was a bit dejected when I refused to join his Landlord Alliance, but the fact remained that I was given a free plot of land in the soft spot of his heart.

"Yeona!"

Pildu protested as I touched his hand to transfer 300 coins. I smiled at him. "An extra hundred for my own intrusion."

I went to the toilets and nearly ran into Dokja, who had been lingering by the doorway.

His eyes were sharp on me. "Did I hear that right? Family?"

"Uh." I scratched at the side of my face. "Well, you see, his daughter's name was 'Yeona,' too."

"But you're..."

"I know, I'm way older than his daughter probably was. But I guess getting to call someone by her name is enough." I pondered for a moment. "It must be awfully lonely to grieve alone."

We rounded the corner to the sinks, and there was a cough behind us. I turned, surprised to see Lee Jihye leaning against the wall. I hadn't noticed her standing with my group before. She sidled up to us with her sword perched on one shoulder.

"Jihye, why didn't you tell me they had arrived?"

The girl cast a sly grin at Dokja, and then at me. "His face when I said you were gone was too funny. I thought he would hit me. Or cry."

I narrowed my eyes at Jihye until she huffed and kicked at the ground. "Okay sorry. I'll tell your side piece the truth next time."

"He is not—!"

"Master will be very unhappy when he finds out you're two-timing him," she inspected her fingernails.

"LEE JIHYE."

The moment sacred light furiously twisted around my arms and into a blunt weapon of gold knuckles, Jihye became docile; one step towards her and she quickly skipped out of the bathroom.

"Like I would ever want to date that emo bastard," I muttered as I deactivated sacred light.

I spun around to find Dokja looking like the floor had dropped out from under him. There was a hard lump in my throat as I swallowed, a nervous laughter escaping. "Ignore her. She tends to talk out of her ass...I'm sure you already knew that, though."

"Yes," said Dokja stiffly. Something was on his mind but after a few moments, he must have decided not to share it because he set about washing the grime off his hands. In the time I had washed my own, Dokja still hadn't finished nor looked my way once.

The sound of running water filled the silence until Sangah emerged from a stall. She gave me a pursed-lip smile and rinsed hands next to Dokja, who was still washing his hands.

Sangah wiped the excess water on her suit pants and drew near me, placing a hand on my shoulder. She glanced back at Dokja and chuckled when I eyed her curiously.

"Later," she murmured. Then she was gone.

I sat up on the counter and waited. Dokja finally finished washing up (or feeling the sensation of water running over his skin for ten minutes?!) and he leaned back against the sink. Heewon emerged, glanced at us, and hurried out after Sangah. I kicked my feet, searching for something to say that might lessen the tension.

"Thank you for helping us back there," Dokja said at last.

"Of course. Gong Pildu was surprisingly easy to win over, as you saw. Lee Jihye on the other hand…" My face twisted into a scowl. "She’s loyal and overly-obsessed with her 'Master.' The only reason she even tolerates me is because I arrived with him."

"...Right." Dokja's sour mood returned in full force.

I fidgeted with the smooth, cold tile under my palms.

Before I could try again, Dokja asked, "What did you do the past few days?"

I ticked them off on my fingers. "Saved Lee Jihye from some murderers, trained up my stats and skills because they're downright abysmal right now, searched for the hidden theater dungeon—" I rerouted when Dokja startled at that "—but I didn't go in yet! I wanted to go there with you so I waited. Oh, and I've been mostly hunting ground rats for food."

A small smile now graced Dokja's face, and I felt at ease. "What happened with you while I was gone?"

He told me of the challenges at Geumho station and Cheon Inho's group, and of the struggle with the Dark Keeper in the tunnel cave. I listened intently, and though I knew the details already, I didn't have to pretend to care because it was not me reading these events, but listening to Kim Dokja recounting them. Telling his own story.

And he was truly a wonderful storyteller.

His hands flew in grand gestures as he told me of the battle in the cave, his eyes gleamed as he spoke of Han Myungoh's curse and the breaking of Samyeongdang's statue. His voice drew me in and I couldn't help but fall into his story, hanging on his every word. When he finished, it must have shown how starstruck I was, because he considered me, puzzled, but amused.

I cleared my throat. "You've had a great adventure already, it seems."

"I have."

I nodded to the sword at his side. "I'm glad you were able to get Unbroken Faith this time."

An odd expression crossed Dokja's face, but before he could voice a single thought, another person spoke.

"Why are you in the women's bathroom?"

Yoo Joonghyuk emerged, Jihye hovering behind him.

I wrinkled my nose. "Why are you?"

Joonghyuk gave me a bland look, as if I were stupid for even asking.

A heat of resentment burnt through me. "We're in the middle of a torrid and passionate lovemaking affair, so why don't you just see yourself out?"

Jihye cackled. Perhaps I had gained some favor with her over my words, but it was at the expense of my own neck—a neck Joonghyuk seemed very keen to slice in half at the moment despite my previous warning not to touch it. I didn't dare turn my head to view Dokja's reaction.

Joonghyuk decided to ignore me for the time being, and addressed Dokja again. "It looks like you've kept your companions."

"Looks like I have." Dokja straightened and stepped forwards to match Joonghyuk's gaze. "I see you've left Gong Pildu alone. Why is that?"

"Aren't you a prophet?" scoffed Joonghyuk.

"Prophets don't know everything." At Joonghyuk's crossing arms, Dokja amended, "You need him alive for a future scenario. But only Gong Pildu—so why the others?"

"You wouldn't understand."

The silence that followed was tense. Jihye squeezed the handle of her sword uncomfortably.

"She also left them alive. Why don't you ask her?" I went rigid as Joonghyuk cast his piercing gaze back onto me.

Dokja's expression was hard. "It isn't her problem to deal with."

It's the protagonist's job to deal with villains, is what he meant.

"Interesting."

I didn't like the way Joonghyuk was analyzing us. I remembered our talk from the other day and winced. He saw my love as a weakness, never mind if it was reciprocated or not, and I was afraid this would only hurt his willingness to be Dokja's companion. As much of a priority as my "Save Kim Dokja!" goal was, I didn't want to disrupt the bond that was barely beginning to form between these two.

"Does that apply to everyone, or just Yeona?"

Everyone—including me—startled at my given name falling from Yoo Joonghyuk's lips without any formalities attached. Dokja's jaw clenched hard. "Can I punch you just this once?"

[Incarnation 'Yoo Joonghyuk' has activated 'Tiger God Aura Lv. 5.']

Amusement ticked up in the corner of Joonghyuk's mouth. "If you have the confidence to."

Then he sauntered out of the room, black cape swishing behind him and Lee Jihye not long after. Dokja's fists clenched and unclenched repeatedly.

...I might have to have to work extra hard to ensure things went smoothly between those two blockheads.

I tugged along a still-infuriated Dokja, and we left the toilets to rejoin the rest of our group farther down the station. Dokja mumbled under his breath and shuffled away.

"Yeona-noona!"

Gilyoung launched himself at my torso and hugged me. I ruffled his hair with a smile. "I missed you, Gilyoung."

He squeezed me tightly. "Please don't leave anymore."

It wasn't something I could promise the young boy, so I cast my eyes around, only to find Namwoon awkwardly shuffling back and forth on each foot. I called his name and he jolted up. I held out my other arm. "Get in here, too, you crazy demon."

With a happy cry, he attached himself to my other side. "Angel-noona, don't leave me with these losers ever again."

"Hey!"

Gilyoung pinched Namwoon's arm, and the latter returned the favor. They devolved into a fierce pinching battle, so I untangled from them. "Stop it. I'd like you two to get along, if you can."

Gilyoung stuck out his tongue at Namwoon, who scowled.

I sighed. Perhaps it was too much to ask.

After untangling myself from them, I went over to the others. Hyunsung and Sangah greeted me warmly, expressing their happiness over our reunion and my safety.

When I got to Jung Heewon, I stuck out a tentative hand and she took it. "Nice to meet you. I'm Choi Yeona—oh!"

Heewon swept me up in a tight hug, wrapping me in her old general's robe like seaweed around a roll of gimbap. "I know. They talk about you a lot."

"Hopefully all good things," I said, a little flustered.

She pulled back and smiled. "Actually, I want to thank you properly." At my confusion she continued. "One of those guys returned with...an interesting removal procedure."

My face cleared. "Removal? Did it fall off then? That wasn't my intention."

"Mm I guess. Anyways, I owe you for that. And for leaving them to me."

"They weren't mine to kill," I said in a hard voice. "You owe me nothing; I'm just relieved you're alright in the end."

Heewon nodded. We exchanged a few more words, and then I approached Dokja sitting on a concrete bench. He was deeply focused on something.

"There's only an hour and a half left."

He was broken from his stupor and looked up at me. I sat beside him.

Dokja fidgeted with the smartphone in his hand. "I'm not sure what is best to do about Gong Pildu."

"We can beat them if we join forces!" said Heewon from nearby, and she tried activating 'Hour of Judgement,' but the constellations of the absolute good system remained quiet over her request.

"It's no use," I said. "The Landlord Alliance is not considered evil."

"But aren't they?" There was a confused, almost lost, expression on Heewon's face.

"From our perspective," Dokja stood. "But constellations adhere to a different standard of morality. Evil must be agreed upon."

Heewon was clearly enraged to discover this truth.

"But there might be a way."

All of us paused to look at Dokja. He smiled. There was a smug, confident lift to it that was so attractive, I had to press my thighs into my seat to stem the inviting heat curling inside of me.

"There's a way we can defeat them, but let's leave that for later. Right now, we must survive the night. We should split up to find a green zone room that will fit all of us—Heewon and Gilyoung together, and Hyunsung, Sangah, and Namwoon. Yeona and I will search this area. Meet here twenty minutes before the scenario starts."

Namwoon looked back at me, as if to complain. I narrowed my eyes and he huffed; they all nodded in determination and scattered. Dokja sat back down next to me and began scrolling through his phone. Of course we both knew that searching was hopeless.

It was then that Bihyung must have privately reprimanded him for looking at a "blank" screen, because he turned to me, leaning in close. "Yeona. Can you read anything on my phone?"

I was already staring at it in shock. "...I can."

I could read Ways of Survival. Was it my status as a transmigrator? I wasn't a "character," but in that case, Sangah or Gilyoung should be able to read his phone as well. It unsettled me. There was something odd, something more to this, but I was missing the proper pieces to figure it out.

"I—we should talk about this later," I said quietly, flicking my eyes up to the ceiling. Dokja agreed.

"You two seem really laid back."

Jihye walked towards us with a grin, sword unsheathed and on the usual perch on her shoulder. "Hey, ahjussi. I liked the way you stood up to Master...so I don't want you to die. Both of you."

Dokja grinned back as we stood to greet her. "We won't."

Joonghyuk appeared then with a frown. "You plan to fight the monsters? You'll die, and so will your companions."

"We'll see about that." Dokja challenged him with a cocky raise of an eyebrow. Joonghyuk's eye twitched.

Before the pair left, I took Jihye aside to enlist her help. Joonghyuk observed us curiously, but didn't reject my request on behalf of his student. Jihye agreed and they disappeared.

Lee Jihye would ensure her, Namwoon, and Gilyoung had spots secured upstairs. It made me a bit nervous to trust her with them, particularly Gilyoung, but it was safer up there than down here next to the spawning location (and I not-so-subtly implied that I would gut her like a fish if she let anything happen to them). Though she didn't seem to be overly fond of me still, I sensed that she respected me enough for this task. I wasn't sure how much of that was related to Joonghyuk or her own judgement.

The others returned just then, arguing over which demand they were given was more ridiculously priced for a green zone that night.

Dokja gathered them round and began to explain his plan.

The red barrier ahead of us cast a sinister glow. Sangah, Heewon and Hyunsung were grouped in front of Dokja and I.

[The third main scenario is activated.]

"Go now!"

Snarling monsters emerged from the red. The group sprinted forwards and dashed to the left. They each made it to the green panel on the wall.

[Green Zone 3/3]

Dokja and I ran, monster claws and teeth nipping at our heels, and my skin stung as it was caught and shredded. A horde of beasts charged at us from the front, and we leapt over them.

We were nearly to the other hidden green zone panel when Dokja stopped. Yoo Joonghyuk was right where I knew he would be, leaning against the glowing green wall. I tugged an angry Dokja forwards anyways. My brows furrowed as I neared the barrier. "Joonghyuk, get o—"

"You bastard!"

Dokja was furious now, fending off monsters as his glare bored into the regressor that had just grabbed and yanked me into the green zone behind him.

"Joonghyuk," I said.

He must have sensed something peculiar in my tone because he craned his head back to look at me. I gave him a sickly sweet smile before shoving him forth with a huge buff of strength. He flew into the swarm of monsters. "You're so predictable!"

I stepped out of the green zone just far enough to grab Dokja's arm and shirt collar and pull him towards me. Joonghyuk leapt up, but it was too late.

[Green Zone 2/2]

[A number of constellations are in shock over your actions!]

The tidal waves of fury emanating from Joonghyuk were quickly curbed as he was distracted by the monsters piling on top of him. He set to work at once, slashing off limbs and piercing ribcages in a mess of blood and matted fur and flesh. Individual constellation messages filled the corner of my vision, but I ignored them. It wasn't a good situation. It wasn't funny, either. It wasn't—

But a gleeful little giggle escaped me anyways.

I tilted my head to look at Dokja, who was staring at me in amazement. I beamed at him. His arms were firm around my back.

"Yeona, you really..."

I shrugged. "You were thinking it too; he's more than capable of surviving the night alone. And I think we deserve the break."

My hands tightened on Dokja's collar as I peeked over his shoulder. Joonghyuk was fighting a fresh wave of beasts a ways down the tunnel now, his back to us barely visible through the horde. He would have to fight until dawn or kill another person to occupy their zone. But this was the regressor and protagonist, Yoo Joonghyuk. I wasn't worried for him one bit.

Plus, now Dokja could save those specter's stones for a more dire situation in the future. They would come in handy.

My bent elbows grew uncomfortable at that angle, so I slid my arms behind Dokja's neck and chanced a glance at his face.

He was still staring. I looked back at him, blinking slowly.

I felt his hands press into my body a little harder. There wasn't a ton of distance between us, but we weren't all that close together either. I didn't dare move, nor speak, for fear of shattering the unnamed moment that had formed amidst the turmoil surrounding us.

Dokja moved one arm to brace the wall behind me and lean forwards, resting his head against it. His body trapped me in a bubble of heat from our earlier exertion outrunning the monsters. Each heavy breath he took made his chest brush against mine.

"Thank you," he murmured.

I nodded my head, a little disappointed, then let my weight slump against the wall, too.

[The constellation 'Demon-like Judge of Fire' grumbles with displeasure.]

It was going to be a long night. I didn't fancy staying awake the whole time—sleep deprivation was not a problem we could afford with the never-ending scenario dangers—but there really was no other option.

So I cast my mind to the future, sifting through possibilities and backup plans for my backup plans. If my mind had to be alert all night, then I should at least make use of it.

And if both Dokja and I chose to continue holding on to one another for the remaining eight hours, then that was nobody's business but ours. (But a few constellations were rather interested in that little development anyways.)

Our occupied green zone was terribly small, so we had to do it, right?

...Right?

Next part ->

A/N: RIGHT!

[The author 'snowfieldstories' hopes this fluff will make up for the trauma-angst earlier.]

#omniscient reader's viewpoint #orv #orv x reader #kim dokja x reader #kim dokja x original character #kim dokja #yoo joonghyuk #omniscient reader novel #omniscient reader webtoon #orv fanfic #orv spoilers #snowfieldstories #In Life and Death #orv kdj

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swee7dream · 9 months ago

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haii!!! i saw u posted the 127 masterlist im SO excited to see what u write for them (and wayv in the near future)

could u write cg! yuta w a little!f! reader whos regressing around him for the first timr... thatd be cute methinks :3 thank u for ur time and consideration

- @aeriaeri

greetings and introductions cg!yuta x reader

genres agere content, established relationship, fluff warnings i wrote about watching a movie i've never seen before, indirect mention of yuta as an idol dni if you sexualize age regression word count 1802

Yuta has done lots of hard things in his life. Really hard things.

He’s traveled to a foreign country with nothing but a dream and a Japanese-to-Korean dictionary. He’s lived all of his adult life in front of a camera and under the harsh criticisms of the internet. He’s watched his friends (read: Haechan and Taeyong) live-react to his acting projects in person.

But no matter what he’s experienced in the past, it’s always the now that feels the most threatening and terrifying. Now that he’s standing outside of your door, Yuta feels his heart in his throat and his stomach and coming out of his-

The undoing of your lock pulls him out of his thoughts, gulping and clutching the large stuffed animal he ordered a couple of days ago closer to his chest.

He hopes you like him.

“Hey.” You don’t look at him in the eyes when you open the door, only step back for him to come in. “How was the trip?”

“Fine. Good.” He clears his throat into his free hand as he steps in, looking around your place. It’s not as if he hasn’t been here before. He’s come over several times, the number of sleepovers innumerable in his mind. “You?”

It’s a Sunday, you have no reason to be out at all today. Still, you answer, relocking the door as he takes off his shoes and places them next to yours.

“Fine too. Take a seat,” you invite, shuffling your way to the kitchen. “I’m getting a glass of water. You want one?”

“I’ll take a coke if you have any.”

“You got it.”

You take the bottle from the fridge, still as full as the last time your boyfriend came over because you hate how the carbonation bites the inside of your throat when it goes down. You’re careful when pouring it, the light foam takes over more and more of the glass until it nearly overflows, the soda itself filling only about 20% of the glass.

As you wait for the bubbles to fizzle out so you can pour again, Yuta takes a spot on your couch. He’s stiff as a doll, feeling almost strange that his knees didn’t creak when he sat down. This apartment that has your scent and all your belongings, it’s the same but oh so different all at once. He feels almost stupid for not noticing all these little things before.

Under his feet is the fluffy green rug with no table over it, left open for napping and drawing and crafting. It’s an incomplete picture, being able to see your figure in his mind but not any details because… he hasn’t met you yet. Not this side of you that you’ve shown to a number of people you could count on one hand.

“Babe.”

The bottle of Coca-Cola is back in the fridge and you’re standing in front of him now. It’s the first time you meet each other’s eyes today and the anxieties of the past 24 hours seem to flow out through the spaces in his teeth, revealed when he smiles.

Your standing in between his legs gives him the perfect chance to wrap his arms around your torso and pull you close enough for him to rest his chin on your tummy.

“I missed you,” he says.

“I missed you too,” you reply, feeling somewhat cocky at the familiar lovesick look on Yuta’s face. He makes you feel loved and loveable. It’s strange, but you can’t help but want to monopolize that expression to only you like a dragon with its hoard of treasure. “Can you take your soda now? My hand is freezing.”

“Mmm… can’t I just hold you a little longer? Please?” he whines, dropping his nose to tickle your stomach.

“You can hold me on the couch, you big baby.”

You hear mumbles of ‘it’s not the same’ but he relents, taking the glass from you so you can curl up next to him, throwing the blanket folded over the back of the sofa on your lap when you begin feeling cold. The doll Yuta brought is crushed between the couch arm and his side when he scooches over to make room for you to lay next to him.

“I’m nervous,” you admit, cheek on his upper arm.

That gets a hum of confusion from him, echoing out from the glass as he drinks.

“Why?”

“What if I scare you off? What if you’re, like, ‘yeah no, I’m checking out of this freakshow.’?”

“’I’m checking out of this freakshow’?” He smiles and you can’t help but break too. It’s ridiculous for him to say that, especially to you of all people, but it usually takes expressing your anxieties aloud to re-realize that.

“…anyway. Put on something on the TV.” You tap him gently.

“Cirque de Soleil?”

“You’re annoying.”

“Moulin Rouge?”

“If you don’t-”

“Oh, I got it! Dumbo.” He struggles for a moment before pulling the soft plush doll of a gray elephant in his hand. He holds it like an award with a grin so wide you wouldn’t have guessed his heart is nearly beating out of his chest, hoping he didn’t push you when you’re not ready yet.

You glare at him for a good five seconds in silence, the tilt of his head faking innocence.

“Do what you want.” You sigh at his smugness, gently taking the toy into your hands, your thumbs coursing over the fur before holding it close.

“I always do, baby.” Your face is peppered in kisses that taste like coke. “You like it?”

“It’s okay.”

—

The original 1941 motion picture Dumbo is considered one of the studio's shortest animated films at 64 minutes long. It doesn’t take long for the two of you to get comfortable, ten minutes in fact.

Around 20 minutes in, Yuta called for the smart home assistant to turn the lights down and give you a smirk (“What a thoughtful gift! I wonder who was so considerate so as to buy you something like that.”). Around minute 42 is when he notices how quiet you’ve gotten, looking over to see you with your thumb’s nail in between your teeth and a twinkle his mind is trying to help him recall in his memories in your unblinking, focused eyes.

He’s seen it before, when you went to the amusement park, playing carnival games; and the times you’ve gone to the mall, walking past the toy stores.

“You okay, baby?”

“Okay…” you mumble in response.

The person who is not okay is him. Once again he’s stiffened up. The realization that you’ve probably slipped in front of him has his heart in his throat again. It’s not like the other times, this time he knows what’s going through your mind and you don’t have to push down your instincts. He’s not going to mess this up for you, he promised to himself.

—

Yuta doesn’t know how to not mess this up, he realizes a minute later. So he chooses to not do or say anything at all unless you ask him to. It’s a good strategy, he comes to discover.

As the credits roll, you begin to speak, Yuta takes note of its softness, the rhythm your words have different than usual. You’re still you, obviously, but he can’t help but think about how truly different the air around you has become, as if there were another person that you shared a body with and he can’t help but love just as much as he does you.

“Like Dumbo’s mama. ‘s a good mama.”

“…yeah. She sure is, baby.”

“Wish I had a mama like Dumbo’.”

“Why’s that?”

”She just so nice. She beats up all o’ Dumbo’s mean bullies and doesn’ even blame him when she goes to lelephant jail.”

“She is pretty nice,” he agrees, eyes crinkling at your attempt at the word ‘elephant’. “You know what? I want to be like Dumbo’s mama too. I wanna protect you just like she does her baby.”

“Yuta wanna be my mama?”

“Well, I’m a boy, baby.” He laughs, gazing softly at the genuine twinkle in your eyes. “…but I can be your mama. Anytime you want me to.”

“Mean it?”

“Yeah, baby. Of course I mean it.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Pinky promise?”

The moment makes him smile. This is you, the one who manages to console him even though he’s the one who had to cancel your date. The one who brings him coffee at crazy hours when not even the sun is awake. The one he introduced to his family with his chest puffed out and never regretted since.

But it’s also not.

This is a part of you that hasn’t gone through any of those things yet and does not worry about things like gas prices or separating whites from colored. At this moment, when the credits to Dumbo roll on the TV and rain begins to hit the windows of the apartment, you’re a brand new canvas. Right here, right now, it’s as if none of the bad things that you’ve gone through ever happened and he’s able to block them out from happening again for you.

Loosening your grip on the elephant plushie you hold tight to your chest, Yuta slips his hand into yours and locks your pinky fingers. To seal the oath, he brings your hand up to his lips, still connected with his.

“Pinky promise.”

“So nice to me. I love you lots.” You sigh satisfactorily, your turn to rub your nose on him like he did less than two hours ago. “But Yuta not a mama.”

His fingers settle on the top of your head, dark eyebrows raised when he looks down at you, eyes shut with tiredness.

“No?”

“No.” You mumble into his shirt. “Dun’ like it. Want ‘nother name.”

“What if I like Mama?” He whispers, trying not to wake you from this half-submersion you’re in inside Morpheus’ arms. His bottom lip pouts out, trying to replicate just how adorable you look to him, fully aware of how he could never compare.

“No.”

“Aw man. Okay, baby. We’ll figure out another name for me another time okay? Why don’t you close those pretty eyes for me right now?”

“Yuta stay?”

“Yuta’ll stay. I’ll see you tomorrow, baby.”

“T’morrow…”

“Tomorrow…”

author's note this was difficult to execute. age regression from an outsider's point of view is not easy to describe ... still, i hope it was an enjoyable read ! constructive criticism and feedback is appreciated in all my works but especially this one (⸝⸝⸝>﹏<⸝⸝⸝)

#kpop agere #agere sfw #cg!nct 127 #cg!127 #cg!nakamoto yuta #cg!yuta #nct x little!reader #little!reader #kpop little space #sfw littlespace #agere kpop #yuta fluff #yuta x reader #nakamoto yuta x reader

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smaranalife · 4 months ago

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#past life regression near me #Past life therapy online #Past life regression in india #Past life regression online Delhi #Past life regression in india online

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radfemnotfemme · 4 months ago

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been learning about radical feminism in the past year and i have completely reevaluated my beliefs about gender ideology. now im just so stuck on the idea of, how can identifying as another gender not be fundamentally regressive, sexist, and upholding gender norms? how can men just identify out of oppression? but now idk what to do holding these beliefs because truly all my friends would have serious issues with me if i were ever to voice this. in fact, i have close friends who are trans, and there are many trans people in my wider social circle (one of whom specifically made me so uncomfortable in a "female" space that it contributed to me unlearning my previous beliefs abt gender ideology). i attend a super liberal university where in a recent english class my professor even made a comment about jk rowling being an evil terf now.

i feel like i'm walking around with a dirty secret. i feel like i can't discuss these ideas with anyone irl, not even my girlfriend. it would fundamentally change her view of me as she as an incredibly vocal trans ally. i could see her breaking up with me for these beliefs; i could see many friends distancing themselves from me. i'm just wondering how you navigate a social world like this with radfem beliefs ahhhh

i feel you on the “dirty secret” aspect! i can try to give some advice since i’m in a very similar situation (minus the fact i live in a conservative area.)

due to my appearance (i’m visibly gay) i usually only attract TRA & ‘queer’ types to me. my friends are all TRA or some variant of “genderqueer.” i only have one friend ive been able to confide my beliefs to, and she’s more a closet conservative type so we really only agree on trans issues. I will say, if you can find even one person that you can speak freely with it’ll be a huge weight off your chest. Whenever I see this one friend we both just ramble because we can finally talk about shit that we can’t comfortably talk about with anyone else.

the way i’ve gone about managing my friendships with TRAs is to simply never bring up trans (or controversial radfem) topics. i avoid it like the plague, will change topic, and if directly questioned on something i will play the dumb and innocent role, aka just pretending to not understand but intend as coming from a good place. you should evaluate which of your friendships putting up this facade will be worth it, because it gets exhausting fast. i have some trans friends, but they’re all the “genderfluid/nonbinary AFAB who goes by any pronouns” type who present extremely feminine at all times, never even push the boundaries of gender expression honestly which is funny. (literally theyfabs lol) They dont care that i always use she/her and they honestly never bring up gender stuff with me. these type of girls aren’t too bad to be around as i feel they’re not as far gone as some TIPs are who actually take the steps to transition, etc. Being around a hardcore TIF or TIM might be a more difficult friendship to maintain.

Regarding your significant other, you should consider if this is a breaking point in your relationship. For me it’s not since my gf was generally uninformed about trans issues like the dangers of males in womens prisons, unfairness in sports, why oppressed is sex based and not gender based, etc. We’ve had discussions about this, where i explained my reasoning for being against these issues & she actually ended up agreeing after I showed her the facts. She’s still ‘pro-trans’ but is much more reasonable about it & thinks majority trans people just wanna live their life (which who can argue with that!) If this type of open conversation isn’t something you think could be achievable with your gf, you guys might just not be compatible.

It sounds like you live in a very liberal area & so my advice to you would be to see if there’s any radical feminist organizations near you. I think finding other people who think the same as you will help you feel less guilty. It’ll probably be hard since most radfems are secretive about their beliefs (for obvious reasons lol) but i’m sure you’ll find someone eventually.

#rad fem #radical feminism #radblr #female separatism #terfblr #terfsafe #gender critical #radical feminist safe #radical feminists do interact #radical lesbian

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celticcrossanon · 1 year ago

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BRF Reading - 13th of March, 2024

This is speculation only

Cards drawn on the 13th of March, 2024

Question: How is King Charles responding to his cancer treatments? How is his health?

Interpretation: A mental storm, then the calm of exhaustion. Struggles with acceptance. Feeling trapped by his disease.

Card One: The Nine of Swords

This is a card of stress and worry, of being so stressed you can't sleep at night, of nightmares, anxiety, despair, and being at breaking point.

The energy of this card is of stress and worry. It is a cold, hard energy that knots up my stomach and lays itself along my bones. Someone is very worried about how King Charles is responding or not responding to his cancer treatments, and/or about the toll the treatments are taking on his health.

The figure on the card - Orestes facing the furies - looks to me like someone who is screaming with anxiety/worry/fear - someone who can't get away from the worry and the fear - wherever they turn, the fear is there, staring them in the face and reaching for them.

Stress. Worry. Anxiety. The pounding of doom coming closer and closer. Nightmares becoming true. Being at breaking point. This is the energy that is pouring off this card. It is so strong that I can't get the why or the who - the flood of fear/stress/worry emotions is overwhelming.

Health wise, this is a card of suffering - insomnia, loneliness, mental torment, being literally sick with worry, dread about test results, bad diagnosis, trying to cope on your own etc.

This card is telling me, firstly and overwhelmingly, that someone or someones are really worried about The King, secondly (a much smaller energy) that there is concern that the news is not good or not as good as expected, and thirdly (which I have been worried about myself) that The King is trying to cope with this on his own and is not asking for help when he needs it.

I think The King is near breaking point. He has to ease up on himself and ask other people to help him.

Card Two: The Ace of Cups

Aces are new beginnings, Cups are emotions. This is about a new emotional beginning, a birthing (this is the card of pregnancy and birth) of a new emotional state. It could be turning to the spiritual for comfort, it could be struggling to accept that life has to go on in a different way, but it is something that is new to King Charles. I keep hearing the word 'acceptance', so maybe he has to accept that he can't control his disease or the progress of the disease, so he just has to 'let go and let god', as people say. I'm hearing again, this time the same voice is saying 'acceptance brings peace'. I think that once King Charles has reached this new emotional state of acceptance, then he will feel a lot more peaceful and more relaxed. I don't know what he has to accept, but that it the message I am getting from this card - stop fighting, let go of control or trying to control everything (that bit is emphasised) and just accept what is happening to you.

This card is very strongly linked energetically to the underlying energy, the Queen of Cups. They both have an energy of care and nurturing about them. There are people who want to look after The King, ease his burdens, give him a space where he can relax and focus on getting well. He just has to let them in and let them do that for him.

Card Three: The Eight of Swords

This card and the Nine of Swords form a could of worry and anxiety and stress around the nurturing and maternal energy of the Ace of Cups and the Queen of Cups. We go from a nine to an eight, which is good and bad news. Good news, because is it a regression, and that is what the cancer is supposed to do - regress back, shrink and disappear. It's bad news for The King's mental state, as he is going backwards (Swords are mental ability). Swords can also be doctors, in which case the King is going back to a doctor he has seen on the past or the treatment is regressing to what it was in the past. Something medical is going backwards (hopefully the cancer), and The King's mental state is also going backwards/regressing.

The Eight of Swords is also a card of worry and stress. Here the person feels trapped by circumstances and they can't see a way out. Energetically, this card is a lot calmer than the Nine of Swords, with an exhaustion that feels like the emotional storm of the Nine has simply worn itself out. The energy is of the calm of exhaustion, coupled with a feeling of "So I am stuck with this (trapped). Now what?" It is not the energy of despair but rather the calm thinking of when you have worn out your emotions and just do not have any energy left to really care about things anymore.

The energy here is of someone who feels trapped and/or restricted, but who is too tired to care very much about it.

Healthwise, the Eight of Swords focuses on the mental realm, indicating depression, confinement, hospitalisation, chronic pain, anxiety, fear, not being able to see a way out of your illness, feeling trapped by your diagnosis, a tightly controlled life and so on.

What stands out to me is the sense of feeling helpless, being slightly depressed because you feel helpless, having trouble accepting that you can't control your disease or your diagnosis, and the possibility of hospitalisation. I think that The King is far more worried about his diagnosis than he has let on. There may also be the possibility of another hospital stay in the future, and my stomach dropped like a stone when I typed that, so I hope that one does not manifest.

It could be that after a series of good results the King has had some not-so-good results, and that has upset him and is causing him anxiety and worry. Progress is not linear, but it is hard to remember that when you are ill and want to be better right now, this instant, or at least in a few days time. If that is the case then the emotional storm will pass and the King will continue hos treatments, hopefully with better results in the future.

Underlying Energy: The Queen of Cups.

This is coming across as a very loving, caring, and nurturing energy, as per the motherhood meaning of the Queen of Cups. This is the card of Cancer, so it could be the Queen or Prince William or both, but in all honesty I am not getting any one person attached to this feeling. It is a general sense of being surrounded by a loving, caring, nurturing energy, like when you go to sleep as a child and all is well in your world because your parents are near and you trust them to protect you. I think this card represents the family around King Charles and the many people who care for him and want him to get better. He is surrounded by loving and nurturing energy; he just has to open up and let it in and let it and his family support him.

Conclusion:

Something has gone wrong. Tests have come back with less than good results, something has gone backwards that shouldn't have, just something has happened that has set off a storm of worry and fear and anxiety in the King and in those surrounding him.

The energy that starts the reading is turbulent - very stressed, fearful, anxious, worried, not sleeping, seeing fear everywhere, to the point of having a nervous breakdown. If this is the King then he was in a very bad way.

The energy ends the reading with the calm of exhaustion and and a sense of being trapped, but not having the energy to care very much. If this is the King, then he has exhausted himself with his worries, and now he is too tired to care very much about anything.

The message from the cards is that the King is not letting go and letting other people help him. He is insisting on carrying this burden by himself. This is causing stress and worry for everyone around him. The cards are telling the King that he needs to let go of control. He needs to let go of everything and just focus on getting well. There are people around him who will help him and he needs to let them do that.

There is a loving, caring, maternal energy that surrounds the King. He needs to let it in and to lean on it for a while. I believe this is the united concern of all members of his family. He needs to let them help.

The last message from the cards is that the King is struggling with emotionally accepting something. When he reaches the stage of acceptance, he will have peace, but for now the birth of this acceptance is very difficult for him.

On the medical side, it looks as if the cancer may be regressing overall. The treatment is taking a huge mental toll on the King. He may need to go back into hospital for some treatment or repeat a course of treatment (go back to old treatment).

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awarenesshealing · 1 year ago

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#awareness healing #past life regression sydney #hypnotherapy central coast #hypnotherapy #past life regression #past life regression near me

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awakeningloveindia · 2 years ago

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Hypnosis gives you a scientific approach to delve deep into the realms of mind to heal the unhealed parts of your consciousness. Clinical Hypnotherapy gives us deeper insights, studies and tools to heal the significant aspect of human existence. It gives a method to measure what is immeasurable and an approach to apply the power of the subconscious mind for our higher potential by removing the blocking past lives, childhood and current life patterns.

#Past Life Regression Therapy #past life regression course online #past life regression training near me #past life regression classes #AwakeningLove

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lavender-romancer · 2 years ago

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The Bug Collector

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Tommy's obsession with thinking something is always out to get him begins to manifest in an irrational fear

”*°•.˜”*°•. ˜”*°•. ˜”*°••°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜

You tried your best to create the best environment for Tommy to feel safe in your little small heath terrace house. He often felt safer there than in the lonely halls of Arrow House where any number of wrongdoers could be hiding. There was hardly enough space for two people at your house, let alone someone out to get Tommy. But regardless, he developed a...fear unrelated to the situation. You were convinced it was a way to regress into some kind of juvenile state of safety, the fears were usually childlike. Unlike anything else in his life, you could protect him from these inconsequential things inside your own space.

"Y/n!" Tommy yelled from the next room and you ran in, ready with a mug in your hand.

"What is it?" You asked and he pointed to the corner of the room near the gramophone.

A small bodied spider with spindly legs was inspecting the area and whether it would make a good home. The innocence of house insects always amazed you, they never bothered you, not really anyways. They make their homes, feed off nuisances like flies and add a very aged feeling to a home. Spiders were probably one of your favourite insects of them all, the variation in the type of webs they create was enough to amaze you. You smiled softly at Tommy who looked terrified before gently scooping up the spider.

"Open the front door for me," you asked him and he almost ran past you to open the door (to get past the spider as quickly as possible.)

You walked down the road a little before placing the little spider down on the pavement. It stayed there for a moment, gazing up at you in fear or awe- you were never sure. Whilst Tommy would sooner shoot the bugs that surrounded your home, you wouldn't have it. You always wanted an insect for a pet when you were younger so killing them would be unacceptable but if it made Tommy happy you didn't mind. He deserved to feel comforted as much as possible after everything he had done for you.

"Come on, my love. Let's go inside." You said as you walked back to your front door.

Tommy sat down on the sofa and you perched next to him, kissing him on the temple and rubbing his thigh. He lent his head on your shoulder and sighed.

"If you ever reveal the insanely emasculating fact that I'm scared of bugs, I might just have to kill you." He joked and you smiled before putting an arm around him.

"Don't worry lovely, I won't ever let you feel like something is out to get you." You kissed his head and cuddled him closer to you.

Peaky blinders taglist: @queenofkings1212 @severewobblerlightdragon @cl5369 @fairypitou @stressedandbandobessed7771 @shadow-of-wonder @hipsternoionlylikeunicorns @curled-hair-red-lips @lucystivinsky1315

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagines #tommy shelby angst #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby head canon

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tapioca-puddingg · 1 year ago

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Why GoWR Valhalla Is Important

Hey. It's me again. This time I'm not yelling about Kingdom Hearts or Drakengard, but I wanted to talk about God of War Ragnarök: Valhalla today and why I think it's important in trauma-centered narratives. This isn't a detailed analysis, just me spitballing.

SPOILER WARNING: There will be spoilers for God of War Ragnarök: Valhalla, so please proceed with caution!

EDITED: 2/26/24

As a brief summary, Kratos spent almost the entirety of GoW 2018 refusing to talk about his past. His guilt, shame, and trauma deeply affected his relationship with his son, to the point where he didn't want to be around Atreus bc he was terrified of being a bad influence on him. It was only when Atreus' life was in danger did it force him to finally admit just a sliver of the truth. Now I don't mean to say that Kratos revealing his godhood wasn't a big deal because it absolutely was, I'm just saying that it's just one piece of a MUCH bigger story. Anyway, he recognized his past mistakes, but the shame was too much for him to openly acknowledge it until damn near the end of the game.

Come Ragnarök, Kratos was pretty much an open book. He had grown SO much in those short years of fimbulwinter: He openly talked about his trauma to Mimir and Freya. He worked so hard to be a good father and a good support system to his friends. He went out of his way to make amends with Freya and restore their friendship. And he fought to restore peace to the Nine Realms.

But come Valhalla, Freya wants to recruit Kratos to be the new God of War of the nine realms, or at least to be a part of the new peacekeeping council that she's putting together. Kratos is extremely hesitant to take up the mantle. He doesn't feel worthy or deserving enough to hold this position given all that he's done. He and Mimir (and later on, Tyr) are constantly going back and forth about it. Both perspectives are completely valid. Valhalla is about Kratos facing his past in a more literal sense; parts of Greece have been manifested from Kratos' memories of it, so it's like he gets to be there in real time again. This is about helping him process what happened and to add some nuance to the conversation. It's like free therapy for Kratos.

It's funny too bc you have both opposing viewpoints being represented. On one hand, you have Mimir and Tyr being the supporting/validating voice, and Helios is the contrarian. Since he's a manifestation of Kratos' memories, he represents the doubts that Kratos has about himself. The harsh voice to show how hard he is on himself, and not without good reason.

The reason why I think Valhalla is so important is bc in media, survivor narratives are often linear. The character just "gets over" their trauma and then that trauma isn't addressed again. It's presented more as a hurdle than a lifelong battle. I guess this goes to show how misunderstood survivorhood is. But that isn't how healing works. We regress sometimes, and sometimes we still mull over the things that have happened to us. We might heal, but that trauma does leave emotional scars. So even after the many leaps and bounds Kratos has made, he's not "over" his past, far from it! It still haunts him every day and every night. Valhalla is Kratos still processing everything. From my own healing journey, I've learned that it takes a long, long time to fully process your trauma, if there even is a "fully", anyway. It takes a long time to learn and understand all the complexities and how it affects you in current day. And it takes even longer to process such a complicated history like Kratos'.

Generally speaking about the idea of processing trauma, I said earlier that survivorhood is extremely misunderstood by the masses. Imo, our society is very anti-victim/anti-survivor. So with that in mind, from the perspective of the audience, some might perceive the processing trauma bit as repetitive or "milking it". These are mediums of entertainment after all, so ofc I understand wanting to put out an engaging story where the audience doesn't lose interest. But screw those ppl lol. We have to understand why we do what we do if we want to do better, and it's amazing that a video game is willing to have these conversations. Being more open about all the nuances of processing trauma, grief, healing, etc will go such a long way.

Even the roguelite gameplay style perfectly reflects this theme. Processing this stuff is slow. It doesn't happen overnight. Unless you're in Valhalla, I suppose.

Okay I said this wasn't a detailed analysis but I lied. I'm a liar now

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babyjakes · 1 year ago

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forever and a day | 54. you didn't.

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

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summary | a story in which america’s favorite captain gives a new life and family to a five-year-old girl who has suffered well beyond her years at the hands of hydra.

characters | dad!steve rogers, girl/willa rogers (original character)

warnings | AU similar enough to OU to include spoilers to many Marvel movies (Age of Ultron and beyond). action and fight scenes with violence and killing. injuries/mild gore. mature themes related to and semi-graphic depictions of child abuse/neglect, past CSA and CSM, and their aftermath (emaciation, wounds, scarring, etc). medical abuse (including sterilization) and experimentation. ptsd/trauma symptoms in a child (developmental discrepancies, de-humanized behavior, detachment, extreme fears). medical treatment of CSM and other aftermath of abuse.trauma-informed therapeutic treatment of ECT. minor mentions of disordered eating. themes relating to abuse of power/authority and immoral interrogation tactics including SA (with brief depictions.) evil!Tony Stark.

[Steve]

If the night at Bucky's had been an isolated incident, I wouldn't have thought much about it. Unfortunately, in the days that have followed, things have only seemed to get more and more difficult for Willa.

It started the following morning, when I woke up around 5:00am to find the little girl in the bed next to me, bawling her eyes out. I had quickly switched on the bedside lamp, checking her over to see what was the matter, and I found her to be in the grips of a seemingly hellish night terror. She had no mind channel open, no crimson glow, so there was no way for me to know what she was dreaming of. Immediately, I had gathered her in my arms, rocking and soothing her as best I could while simultaneously hoping to rouse her from her torturous sleep. But it was no use; she was far too deep in the nightmare to break free. She flailed and sobbed and sputtered incoherently for hours, and all I could do was hold her and watch. By the time 7:00am rolled around, she finally woke up, and at that point she was inconsolable.

I couldn't get anything out of her that entire morning. She had fought her way out of my arms and crawled deep under my blankets, and I simply had no heart to remove her. I tried coaxing her out with the promise of cuddles, breakfast, and even her favorite movie, but nothing worked. Eventually, I decided to leave her alone and let her determine when she felt safe to come out, but she ended up staying there for most of the day. When she did finally emerge, she was a puddle of tears, her eyes begging for comfort and reassurance. But at the same time, she wouldn't let me come anywhere near her. When bedtime came around again, I offered to let her sleep with me in my room for another night, and she surprised me greatly by agreeing to it.

Through the night, she had another horrific nightmare, one so terrifying that it sent her jumping out of the bed in fear when she awoke. As soon as she saw me waiting for her with the lamp on, a deeply concerned expression drawn on my face, she grew so afraid of being punished that she began hyperventilating, eventually passing out from her compromised airflow. In the agonizing process of her panic attack, she wet herself again, and it was at that point that I decided I needed to speak with Jenny.

"Did anything happen in the days leading up to her shift in behavior that might've been cause for such a regression?" the mild young lady asks as she sits across from me in the living room. Resting back against the soft cushions of the sofa, I pick apart the past week in my mind, ultimately unable to identify anything.

"No," I sigh with a shake of my head. "There were small incidents here and there, but that's always the way it's been with her. Nothing major happened, at least, not that I can think of." It's now later in the morning, and Jenny and I are wrapping up a last-minute session I requested while Willa plays in her room. The doctor started off speaking with the child herself, but after half an hour or so of not getting much response at all, she decided to come out and work with me instead.

"I see," Jenny notes, scribbling something down on her legal pad. Closing up her pen, she brings her eyes up to meet mine, a familiar sense of warmth and patience lingering in her gaze. "Steve, with everything that Willa's gone through, her road to recovery isn't going to be as smooth as any of us would like it to be." I nod, not sure where the doctor could be going with a statement like that. "And even though things seem like they're getting worse with her, this is actually a pattern that's seen quite frequently with survivors of abuse and trauma who've recently escaped. Willa's body and mind were suppressing a lot of emotions, a lot of fear during her captivity, and even at the tower due to the things Tony did; her system couldn't handle addressing these feelings, so it shut them out. Now that she's in a truly safe place, with a safe person who only loves her and takes care of her, those things are beginning to show themselves because it's safe for them to." A wave of relief washes over me as the woman finishes her explanation, and I let out a deep hum.

"So this... is normal?" I ask. She nods.

"It's a difficult part of the process, since it might seem to both of you like things are getting worse when they should be getting better, but it's really just a sign that her body and mind are ready to start doing some deeper repair."

"I see. That's..." my voice trails off as I bring a hand up to brush through my hair. "That's so good to hear," I finish honestly. "I was really worried that I had done something wrong, or was messing up in some way."

"I don't think you need to worry about that, Steve, not at all. You're doing a phenomenal job with Willa. She just adores you." A faint smile crosses my face as I think of the little girl, and how much love and care I hold for her in my heart as well. "As far as dealing with her new or returning behavior, I'd recommend allowing her to get it out, as much as you possibly can. A big part of her might just need to respond in the way her body originally wanted to. She might need to go through the act of being scared or crying or getting sick, since those were all responses that were made impossible for her up until now. In regards to the increased accidents, it's a very common indicator of sexual trauma in children. I know it's frustrating, but try to be as patient with her about it as you can."

"No, no- it's not even frustrating," I assure her quickly, meaning the words with all my heart. "Really, it's not. It's not a hassle when it happens, not at all; it just makes me so worried."

"I know it's alarming to see her regressing in that sense, but it's totally normal and shouldn't pose an issue permanently as long as she remains in a safe environment where she isn't violated sexually. We're just meeting her where she's at, if that makes sense, and where she's at might go forward or backward for a while before we really start making linear progress. I know you know this already, but Willa is in many ways somewhat younger than five still, at least internally. And that's okay. We just have to let her exist at whatever developmental age she's at."

"And you think- you're sure it's okay? That I'm kind of, well- I don't know, kind of 'babying' her, as Tony would say?" I ask, wanting to be sure the doctor still approves of my controversial approach. Jenny smiles, allowing me to relax even more with relief.

"Yes, that's completely acceptable. Actually, it's probably very therapeutic for her system to be allowed to have those critical early childhood experiences that she was deprived of for so long. Whatever helps her feel safe and secure, even if it's meant for younger kids, is completely fine."

"Good," I nod, feeling slightly more sure about myself as a parent from all of Jenny's encouragement. "I'm sorry she wasn't up to working with you today," I apologize again, "I told her you were coming and asked her to do her best to be open and honest, but... I don't know. At the same time, I don't have much heart to push her."

"It's completely fine," Jenny reassures me once more, shaking her head at my persistent apologizing. "Therapy isn't ever something that should be forced upon a child. She'll talk when she's ready." Glancing down at her notepad, she offers, "I was wondering, though, if maybe the three of us could wrap up the session together? I believe Willa's still playing by herself in her room, and a lot of times children can be demonstrative of what they're thinking or feeling through the ways that they play. Maybe we could sit in with her for a little bit, if you don't mind?"

"I don't mind at all," I tell her, earning a smile as she rises to her feet.

"Alright, then," she says with a nod. "I'll let you lead the way."

Leading the woman back through the house, I stop just outside the child's half-open door, knocking a few times against the sturdy wood before pulling it the rest of the way open. Willa sits on the floor beside her bed, a few toys scattered around her as she holds a small wooden doll in her hands. Her big green eyes meet mine warily, and my heart sinks as she begins to tremble. "Hey sweetheart," I greet gently. For a moment, I remember that just a few days ago, she would beam every time I entered the room. Realizing that we're back to such a state of fear and uncertainty, a tinge of disappointment builds up inside of me. But then, I remember the doctor's words, and I'm able to remind myself that Willa's behavior is actually probably a good sign, in some weird way. "Things are starting to show themselves because it's safe for them to."

"Your daddy and I were wondering if we could sit and play with you for a little bit," the young lady's soothing voice overlaps her previous words running through my head. A look of skepticism forms on the little girl's face as she glances between the two of us, but thankfully after a few more moments, she nods. "Wonderful," Jenny says with a smile, and we enter in, both sitting a few feet back to give the child some space.

"What're you playing, Willa-bug?" I ask in a gentle tone, now able to get a better look at the toys she's taken out of her boxes. She has a bathtub and a sandbox from a dollhouse set, as well as Captain America and Ironman figurines, and the little brown-haired doll she's holding in her hand. The clothes are half torn off the doll, the hair messed and tangled. Big, frightened eyes look from the doll to me, and then back. "Who've you got there?"

"Willa," she says simply, holding up the doll that seems to represent herself. I nod.

"Is Willa getting dressed?" Jenny asks politely.

Swallowing hard, Willa shakes her head. "Off," she mumbles, removing the toy's purple dress and placing it on the floor. She then removes the doll's underwear as well, leaving it completely naked. Next, she reaches over and picks up the sandbox, opening up the cover. Almost urgently, she begins to dig, not stopping until she's created a little hole in the center. Then, she takes the Willa doll, placing it in the center of the hole. A lump forms in my throat as she buries the tiny pair of underpants with it, not paying any mind to the dress.

"Oh, you're... is Willa playing in the sand?" I ask, trying to understand the child's actions. Not giving a response, Willa simply continues with her scene, picking up the Ironman action figure and extending its arm. Clumsily, she begins using the plastic hand of the figurine to begin shuffling sand back over the doll that represents herself. "Willa, sweetie, what- what is Ironman doing?" I question carefully.

Once the wooden doll and her underwear have disappeared completely beneath the sand, Willa extends the other arm of the superhero's body, making them now both stick out straight. With a concerning amount of force, she begins jabbing the hands into the sand, uncomfortable sounds of plastic and wood colliding as the man apparently attacks the girl. Glancing over at Jenny, I see that her brow is furrowed in concentration. All I can hope is that she's understanding what Willa's actions mean, because to be completely honest, I have no idea what to make of any of it.

After several more moments of the violent motions, Willa finally stops, putting Ironman's arms back down and dropping him to the floor. Sifting through the sand, Willa pulls out the wooden doll, shaking her off slightly before finding her purple dress and redressing her. Turning back to the sandbox for a moment, she uses a single finger to re-bury the underpants, causing my brain to ache with questions and concerns. When satisfied with the way the piece of clothing is hidden, Willa picks up the bathtub, once again removing the doll's dress before placing her in the tub, coming to what seems to be a stopping point.

"Sweetheart?" I ask quietly, unable to even form my thoughts into a question.

"Can you tell us what you're doing, Willa?" Jenny fills in for me. "Willa's taking a bath now?" The little girl nods. "What about Daddy? He's with you when you take baths, right?" she continues, picking up Captain America off the floor and offering it to the child. To my surprise, Willa shakes her head, pushing the doll away. Jenny lets her. "No help from Daddy? Okay, that's okay, hun," the doctor says quickly, wanting to avoid upsetting the chidl.

"What was... what happened in the sandbox, honey?" I ask, not sure if I should be asking so many questions but ultimately too worried to refrain from doing so. Willa flinches slightly at my question, her bottom lip quivering as she gives me nothing but silence in return. "Okay, it's okay, sweetheart," I coo soothingly, not wanting to push the subject too hard, "that's okay, you don't have to tell us."

"How about you keep playing, sweetie," Jenny suggests, "it's okay. You said Willa was in the bath?" The small girl nods, looking back down at her toys before pulling the doll out of the tub, redressing her in her purple gown. Then, the child surprises both me and the doctor by repeating the same exact process all over again, starting with digging out the underpants in the sandbox, putting them back on the doll, and then completely undressing it.

My brow creases in perplexion as I watch Willa 'play,' her motions almost seeming like a routine or ritual that her body knows by heart. She repeats the entire scene once, then twice, and by the point in which she's buried herself a third time with her underwear, preparing the Ironman doll to perform his assault, I finally speak again, causing the child to pause. "Willa," I breathe, my heart pounding faintly in my ears. "What are you doing?"

Her wary gaze rises to meet mine and she blinks, her arm beginning to tremble as she clutches the action figure tightly.

"Could you explain it to us?" Jenny adds, her voice laced with concern. "What is Ironman doing to Willa?"

"Why is she buried with her underwear?" I ask, earning a glance of warning from the doctor. Sighing, I take a moment to breathe, not wanting to say anything I might regret. "What is- sweetheart," I murmur as I notice the poor thing's eyes filling with tears. "What is Tony doing to you?"

"Hurting me," she concedes, her voice barely loud enough to hear. Her big green eyes peer up at mine and beg for what she's too afraid to out loud: to not hurt her, myself, to not be angry with her for expressing her feelings with her toys.

"Okay, Willa-bug," I nod, not completely understanding but deciding that at the moment, I don't really need to. My biggest priority for now has to be showing Willa that she's safe and that she's not in trouble for what she's admitted. "What if- how about Daddy comes and helps you?" I offer hopefully, taking the Captain America figure from Jenny carefully and holding it up for the little girl to see. "How about Daddy comes and protects you?"

"N-no," Willa refuses, picking up her sandbox and holding it slightly closer to herself, almost in a protective manner.

"Why not, sweetheart? How about Daddy comes and- comes and makes Tony stop, stops him from hurting you," I try, reaching out with the figure and trying to place it in the sandbox with the other two characters. Unexpectedly, Willa jerks it away, bits of sand spilling out from the sides as a look of anger forms on the child's face, a look I've never seen before. "Willa, please-" I insist, extending a hand to take hold of the sandbox.

But to my complete surprise, instead of pulling back again or allowing me, Willa throws the entire thing at me, sand dumping all over my clothes as she snaps, "No. You don't. You didn't."

As the dust settles into my lap and I blink away the sand from my eyes, I'm met with the sight of Willa staring back at me, any indication of anger or frustration completely drained from her face. Her eyes are as wide as saucers as she gawks at me, as if she, herself, can't believe what she's done. And before I can say anything, before I can reassure her or even try to calm her fears, she's jolted up onto her feet, running right out of her bedroom door.

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