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paradife-loft · 5 years ago

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why the nie sect leaders’ inevitable death by qi deviation isn’t (just) about the sabers

(now at AO3!)

So, okay, this is a meta I’ve been working on/wanting to write/dropping hints to various people about now for quite a while! I think it’s significant thematically to some of the main questions MDZS/CQL asks, about cycles of justice and vengeance, the tension between personal agency and aspects of a situation outside one’s control, and good intentions often not being enough on their own, particularly to forestall problems resulting from imperfect or fatally flawed means to an end.

As a fantasy story, I think one of the strengths of MDZS/CQL is how it uses magic to reflect aspects of its thematic questions in certain cases as literal external forces, events that exist in a format outside just a character’s internal journey. The metaphors and proper social and personal orders these characters live by, have very real physical consequences in the world that result from the existence and manipulation of magical/spiritual energies.

And to my view, the part of this that I want to make the case for here, is how this relates to the Nie sect’s cultivation practises, and why I think the clan’s history of leaders succumbing to instability and qi deviation is a more complicated interplay of a few different factors, rather than just an externally-imposed illness whose source is purely their saber spirits.

* * *

Like, okay. The characters and narrative do, in fact, spend a lot of time discussing the Nie sect leaders’ early violent deaths in the context of their sabers’ spirits becoming angry and aggressive and affecting their mental and spiritual stability. So it makes sense to focus on those actual items as the essential reason behind why they qi deviate and end up dying the way they do. But there was something… logically unsatisfying to me about the idea that just the number of edges on your bladed weapon would make such a difference that sword spirits (also generally used for killing! because they’re also deadly weapons!) are apparently morally neutral but sabers, on the other hand, just Cannot Stop with the killing once they’ve gotten a taste of it.

But if you take an experimental step away from the idea that sabers must somehow be Inherently Different from swords in their response to violence - what possible explanations are left? Or, asked a different way - what makes the Nie sect’s ideological cultivation focus distinct from other sects’? The Lan focus on regulation and self-restraint as the path to goodness; the Jiang focus on self-knowledge and following what you know as right even against difficult odds; the Jin seem to emphasise value in beauty and unique rarity… and what the Nie seem to place the most value on, is dispensation of justice and abhorring evil, even to an extent that refuses attempts at compromise.

The only problem is, the justice that they (and plenty of others) seem to focus on most often, is justice for capital crimes - paying with a life for a life - and no matter how righteous and justified the motives, what this still ends up with is a spiritual path that spends a comparatively awful lot of time on seeking others’ deaths. And we see, throughout the story, more than one thematic hint that this is maybe not the best method for moving toward harmony or immortality.

Lan Qiren’s impromptu quiz of Wei Wuxian when the latter is fucking off in class. His example problem specifies the resentful spirit was an executioner in life (societally-sanctioned to kill others for heinous crimes), and Wei Wuxian notes that one who’s killed so many is a very likely sort to become a resentful corpse; meanwhile his many victims also remain tethered to cycles of vengeance and anger, able to be easily stirred up into a force of resentful energy that would target him if their corpses were disturbed.

The dialogue between Wei Wuxian and Fang Mengchen in the Burial Mounds after the attempted siege turns into the major sects being saved from a trap. It’s all very fine and good to hold a grudge, to see a lack of justice for a harm that can’t ever be undone or repaired when the one who caused it gets to be alive and well (or even not!), but as Wei Wuxian says - what are you going to do about it? It’s so easy for there to always be a wrong that needs righting (in a real or alleged guilty party’s blood). But will it get you anywhere? Can a person, can a society, mete out justice or vengeance once and have that wipe the slate clean, or will the wound reopen again and demand yet more suffering? Where does it end?

The discussion about the Nie’s ancestral saber halls with Huisang, where Wei Wuxian notes that the method of suppressing the saber spirits edges rather close to demonic cultivation. In literal terms, that question seems to be directed at the actual use of evil individuals’ transforming corpses to contain the sabers’ power. But I think the entire conversation, and Huisang’s need to swear them to secrecy and enlistment as backup if other clans find out and get angry, contains a certain amount of thematic subtext reflecting not just on the saber tomb itself, but the Nie clan’s cultivation as a whole. These are significant and revered family heirlooms, not easily or justly discarded, but maintaining them isn’t without cost, and the spiritual fallout rests on the edge of a knife, needing the perpetual presence of an evil to fight to remain in balance: the saber tomb is both the literal and metaphorical end result of the clan leaders’ cultivation path.

“But why,” you may ask, “if the principles underlying the Nie sect’s whole culture have an edge that’s sharper and more harmful to the user’s qi than other cultivation philosophies of the rest of the sword-using sects, do we only see ��death by qi deviation” as an issue for the sect leaders, and not more widespread among a larger portion of the disciples?”

And that’s where the “(just)” part of the title of this post comes in, because that aspect is where the difference comes down to the sabers - or, specifically, the named sabers that have spirits of their own. The spiritual sabers aren’t bloodthirsty and excited to haunt and/or kill people right out of the gate, but rather, as Huisang explains, they become restless after spending their wielder’s lifetime destroying evil. A cultivator and their spiritual tools develop a relationship over time, as their cultivation is practised and refined - they bond, they recognise one another, and crucially, they seem to be able to share a kind of spiritual feedback loop, with the energies and intentions of one connecting to and ideally bolstering the strength of the other. The Nie clan in general seems marked by particularly strong relationships between individual cultivator and weapon, considering the sabers’ refusal to allow a clan leader’s descendants to inherent them, and both the circumstances of Mingjue’s father’s death and his own trauma reaction to that death.

So in this case, the illness and eventual qi deviations the Nie clan leaders suffer, the way the saber spirits come to weigh on their minds and emotions, make sense to me as a confluence of the particularly close bond and almost spiritual symbiosis between wielder and weapon, and the particular subject of emphasis that the clan leader lives by in how they train with and use that weapon. Focusing on justice as killing, as violent destruction of evil (the last resort one should aspire to after other solutions have failed, per Lan Qiren’s lesson), may not be the most spiritually healthy in any circumstance, but it’s only when you have half a lifetime’s worth of a mental feedback loop between you and this external, semi-sentient part of yourself that’s reinforcing the spiritual toll of that path, that you actually end up with a resulting qi deviation and death.

* * *

So, anyway, I do want to be clear having put forth this argument, that my point here is not to condemn the Nies, nor for that matter blame the sect leaders for their own deaths - that’s very much not in line with how the text itself displays flaws and virtues as two sides of the same coin (at times divided only by the context around them), and shows how destructive consequences can result from the best of intentions. For that matter, each major sect has unquestionably valuable basic principles at its heart, and just like microcosms of any culture, society, or group, displays instances of those principles being distorted, misaimed, or taken to extremes in ways that cause disharmony and pain to those in their path.

I think the way it plays out for the Nie clan just interests me in particular because of the way their uniqueness in cultivation method plays such known havoc with its members’ bodies and minds, and the way it straddles the divide between upright and demonic cultivation. MDZS asks, I think, more questions than it offers definitive answers to, and a significant one of those is, even if vengeance, even if death-as-justice is righteous, where do you balance all the harm done to others (up to and including) the justice-seeker in deciding whether to continue down that path of action?

And if it’s the Nie sect’s spiritual focus in combination with the spirits of their sabers that wear down a slow stream of damage to their qi, rather than simply the external threat of the sabers alone - that seems congruent, to me, with the suggestions offered elsewhere in the story.

#MDZS #The Untamed #CQL #meta #no good things for the poor sad cultivators #op #rambling #Nie Mingjue #Nie Huaisang #nooottt really putting in the searchable character tags I hope considering it's less *about* them and more ancillary...? aahh #Nie sect fascinates me it really really does #(alternate title: huisang is philosophically not much of an exception in his sect even though he doesn't use a saber . txt)#also ty Ame for doing a read-through of thiiissss ur the best <333 #long post for ts

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poychachi · 4 years ago

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How to Fix “White Room Syndrome”

@writinghaven on instagram [SOURCE: poisonedappleclub.wordpress.com]

What is White Room Syndrome?

White Room Syndrome refers to writing that lacks grounding in physical reality – lacks even basic description, in terms of setting. There is no sense of place, and there are just dialogue and characters. Scenes that might as well be taking place in a white room – hence the name.

Here are some things to consider so you can fix this:

Emotional texture – Setting as metaphor : This is the first possible way to approach this, and the one I personally use the most. The setting is a metaphor for the character’s internal struggle. One of my favorites is when Luke Skywalker wrestles between good and evil with his father, while outside, an epic battle rages between the rebels and the Empire. Another is use of things like weather, use of types of buildings, certain animals, or objects.

Setting as character: Speaking of which, your setting is a character as much as your people. Meaning, it needs to have a journey. If it’s night when your character faces a deadly enemy and loses, make it bright day, when she realizes what went wrong, and how exactly to defeat them. Make it dawn on her (Get it? Sorry. My bad). If your character lies to her love in the kitchen, have the character have the honest heart to hearts about the morally questionable deeds, outside in the alleyway. That sounds a little random, but you get my point.

Visual texture – Setting as conflict, obstacle and tone : This is one of my favorite tools as a writer, and it’s one of the most powerful and memorable. This one goes back to the setting’s purpose, and life outside the character. Remember, the characters have a life outside of each other, and the setting is character. If it is a hotel, have bell hops, managers, people checking in, carrying room service, etc. Lemony Snicket does this like magic : with a hotel that is based on the Dewey decimal system (obstacle, as no one is intimately familiar with it), has strange customers wearing lettuce, asking for crossbows, setting the quirky, strange and humorous tone, and also offering physical conflict, such as hidden secrets, codes, uniform and concierge duties.

Social differences and dialogue differences : This is where your setting’s rules come into play. In a school, oddly like a prison, no one is allowed to go outside until their time’s up. They have meals and lessons at regulated times, talk to each other and go out at regulated times. In a restaurant, the rules are ask the waiter for orders instead of stalking into the kitchen. In a hospital, you fill out forms and wait for your turn. How you play to these rules, and occasionally break these rules makes for compelling storytelling. One good way of doing this is by giving your characters a number from one to ten. This is a social exercise. In a restaurant, your waiter will rank lower than a customer, in a hospital, a doctor higher than a nurse and in a school, adults more than children. This is a good way of understanding how interactions are colored by our social standing. No one addresses a waiter the way they address a doctor.

Sense of place : This is the most elusive one to grasp, but also one of the most important. In novels, a sense of place can be evoked in dual ways: an inclusion of all the senses, instead of just sight. Use smell, taste and touch to center your characters in their setting, and have them experience the place instead of it merely being a place where they can have their interaction. Have it affect them in some way. Places like their homes, their schools, their cities, have specific experiences in store for the characters. The other senses give you an immersive experience. The other way is an acute understanding of your setting’s rules. Some things happen. Is it the badlands? The seedy underbelly of the city? The celestial palace where damsels dance in front of Gods? The no-good town full of vice? Is it a lonely paradise in the mountains where warrior-monks brew their own beer?

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nanoland · 4 years ago

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title: Compass Rose

series: Lucifer (TV)

pairings: Mazikeen/Eve

summary: In which Mazikeen exercises her renowned patience.

warnings: Lucifer is kind of a dick in this. Not intentionally; he’s just young and colossally self-centered.

Also on Ao3!

“You. Demon. What’s your name?” asks the Morningstar, looking bored and depressed, as usual.

She straightens up, brimming with nerves and excitement, feeling her acidic blood bubble happily because he’s so handsome! And he’s talking to her! Her siblings will shriek with jealousy when they hear of this. “Mazikeen, my liege.”

“Mazikeen,” he repeats, mispronouncing it. “Great. Maze, do something about… all that, would you? It’s dreadfully grating.”

He gestures to the sea of damned, miserable human souls milling around the base of his throne, calling up to him for help or mercy.

“Yes, my liege,” she says, her bright mind already hard at work planning the next few millennia of punishment.

“Maze, is there a letter from Amenadiel?”

Mazikeen is now four hundred years old and in all that time, not a single letter has arrived in Hell, from Amenadiel or anyone else. Regardless, her handsome king asks every week.

It’s fine. She’s far too mature and cunning to feel even the slightest scrap of envy towards some pompous old angel she’s never even met, regardless of how obviously Lucifer loves him.

Regardless of how obvious it is that he loves no one in Hell half as much.

“No, my liege.”

“Hmm. Fine. Whatever. Fuck him, then. Brothers – who needs ‘em?”

She nods. She herself has many, many brothers, and sisters, and siblings who are neither or both, and she certainly doesn’t need them.

(Sometimes she longs for them, especially when she’s weary from the years and years dedicated to building and securing Lucifer’s kingdom, but she never needs. Needing is for the weak.)

It occurs to her that that king might be cheered by stories of Tradiusis, her most treasured and most useless brother, who is prone to chatting with the damned and asking them about all the silly human indulgences they enjoyed in life, like movies and theme parks and hot dogs. Fool that he is, the mere thought of him always brings a smile to her face.

But she decides against it, suspecting that if she were to begin telling Lucifer about her family, he’d get that same dull, faintly irritated expression she sees every time she reads him a report about the number of new arrivals and how various parts of Hell will need to be restructured to accommodate them all.

(She wonders what will happen when Hell is full – does he have a plan? Is she expected to have a plan?)

(How long, exactly, are they supposed to keep doing this?)

(Surely this can’t be all they were made for?)

“Maze, get me a drink, would you?”

Mazikeen is Lucifer’s right hand, his bodyguard, the highest-ranked demon in Hell, named the Lady of Pain, the Whirlwind, and the Blood Dancer by her peers and underlings.

Pouring drinks is… new to her.

But this is what he wants; this club, this loud music, these inebriated humans constantly demanding attention and entertainment, constantly needing to be managed. And he’s her king.

She pours him his drink and listens to him play the piano, until some wretch attempts to grope her and loses two fingers.

Running a nightclub is, it turns out, complicated.

There are all sorts of rules and regulations regarding what can and cannot be done inside it.

At one point, Lucifer decides it would be fun to have white tigers roaming the dance floor. After a few days spent looking into that option, she has to explain that they may to have settle for waitresses dressed as tigers. He pouts like it’s her fault and goes back to the piano.

She’s also not allowed to kill anyone, which is, honestly, ridiculous. Mazikeen is an ancient being, a warrior nigh unparalleled, with centuries of experience contending with the worst the human race has to offer, and every single night she endures treatment from at least one of Lucifer’s guests that, even to her vast, reasonable, and patient mind, clearly warrants swift annihilation.

If murder is, indeed, illegal, how do all the mortal women in this city who serve drinks cope?

“You block it out, I guess,” says Suzy, a waitress with thick red hair and tired eyes, after Mazikeen has had to save her yet again from a patron with wandering hands (and now broken hands). “You know, just… don’t let it get to you. Grow a thick skin.”

Mazikeen considers the half of her body that has no skin whatsoever and snickers inappropriately. Then she gifts Suzy one of her knives.

Chloe gasps. “Maze! No! Absolutely not!”

“Why?” she asks, annoyed but also genuinely curious.

“I can’t just torture a suspect to get information, Maze. It’s wrong.”

Mazikeen considers saying: You already torture people. You lock them up in tiny boxes until their minds break and their lives are utterly ruined. How is that different? I don’t understand.

Mazikeen considers saying: You let Lucifer violate peoples’ innermost selves to obtain information. How is that better? I don’t understand.

Mazikeen considers saying: I don’t want to be good. I don’t care about being good. So why do I seem to put so much more thought into how to be good than you do? I don’t understand, I don’t, I don’t.

Instead, Mazikeen rolls her eyes and says nothing.

“Maze! No! What were you thinking?” cries Linda, rushing over to the cradle. “You can’t give that to a baby!”

She snatches away Mazikeen’s present; a blade, small and silver, just right for tiny hands, the same blade Mazikeen herself received from her favourite sister on her fourth birthday. It has tasted the blood of over a hundred enemies.

Charlie starts to cry and Linda puts the blade aside so she can pick him up and comfort him.

“Children need to be able to protect themselves,” Mazikeen insists.

“No, Maze. Children need to be protected.”

“No one protected me.”

Linda doesn’t say: Exactly. Why would I want my son to be anything like you?

Because Linda is kind.

But Mazikeen is perceptive and she sees it in her friend’s eyes all the same.

“So then, then it turns out that Jon Snow is actually Daenarys Targaryen’s cousin, right, which makes him – oh no! – a rival contender for the Iron Throne, and…”

“Ugh,” Mazikeen groans, cutting Ella off. “I thought this was a show about dragons! Why does it waste so much time on people either fucking or killing their relatives?”

She laughs at Mazikeen’s exaggerated annoyance. “It’s not just about dragons. There’s a lot of stuff about politics and war and, yeah, fucked-up family dynamics. Honestly, that’s one of the reasons it grips me so much. My own family’s always got a ton of drama going on, too. I mean – no incest. Not that I’m aware of. But you know all about my brothers.”

Mazikeen is about to ask what the dragons look like – whether the show’s version bears any resemblance to the beasts she’s ridden into battle – when Ella tilts her head sideways and squints at her. “Huh. Now that I think about it… I’ve told you all about my brothers but I’ve never asked anything about your family. That was shitty of me! Can I ask now? Or is it, like, one of those things you don’t talk about? Like where you’re from and how you met Lucifer?”

Fiddling with a lock of her hair – it’s straight and black today – Mazikeen says, “I don’t mind talking about it. Just… most people don’t care.”

Ella frowns, briefly (cutely, curse her). “Well, I wanna know! You got any brothers?”

“Yeah.”

“How many?”

“A lot. I’m not actually sure exactly how many there are now.”

“Oh, right. Gotcha. Are you close to any of them?”

“Not these days. But when we were young, we were pretty tight-knit. Didn’t really have anyone besides each other.”

Ella asks her more questions and though she has to keep her answers extremely vague, Mazikeen finds that she likes talking about her home and her childhood. Prolonged exposure to the human world has begun to make her feel insubstantial; a tool, a disguise, a thing without roots or history. Lucifer’s been no help with that, for he’s only ever known her as his servant (and, sometimes, when he’s in a good mood, his friend, by virtue of the fact that friendship with someone who works for you – who can do nothing but work for you – requires no tedious emotional labour whatsoever).

It’s nice to remember that she has, in fact, been other things. That she could, perhaps, be other things in the future.

“So,” Dan slurs, hunched over his beer. “You got whores… hordes… horns? Thought demons had horns.”

She’s busy applying a fresh coat of candy-pink lipstick to match her powder-blue bob. “Some do. I don’t.”

“Well, that sucks. That’s not fair! You deserve horns. You’re cool, Maze.”

Because that provokes a twinge of genuine affection, she says, “Wanna see what I have got?”

“Hell, yeah!”

He grins drunkenly.

“You need to promise not to scream.”

“Oh – oh, man, is it scary? Is it gross?”

She shows him her true face.

After a moment of owlish blinking, he shrugs and returns to his beer. “Eh. S’not that gross. Lucifer’s grosser. Wanna play pool?”

Amenadiel presents her with a beautiful black sheath. “I crafted it from my own feathers. It will keep the blade contained until he’s old enough to wield it safely.”

She slides Charlie’s knife into it. “Someone will need to teach him.”

“Who taught you?”

“Me? No one. They just threw us at one another and clapped for whoever survived. But… well. He’s not like me, is he?”

The angel places the sheathed blade down beside Charlie’s stuffed rabbit and plastic truck. “Maybe not now. With any luck, that will change.”

“Ma-aaze,” Lucifer groans, flopping back in his armchair with his long legs artfully folded and his hand over his eyes. “I’ve had such a tiresome morning. Pour me a drink, would you?”

“Pour it your damn self,” she suggests, standing on his penthouse’s balcony and admiring the view. His throne in Hell was about as tall as this building. From up here, all the little people down below look exactly the same.

He pouts and fetches a glass – and, to her surprise, one for her as well.

Mazikeen brings an abrupt, efficient end to the bar fight by slamming her palm into an assailant’s solar plexus.

He drops like a ton of bricks, joining the pile of groaning men, broken furniture, and smashed bottles. (Shit; it’s going to take ages to clean all this up. If Lucifer didn’t have infinite money, Lux would have gone bankrupt eight times by now.)

She turns to see Eve staring at her, beautiful mouth hanging open, and braces herself for the “Maze! No!”.

“That was so cool,” Eve breathes, and rushes over to leap into Mazikeen’s arms, only to draw back at the last second. “Oh no! You’re hurt!”

There is, indeed, a small cut on Mazikeen’s left hand.

“Don’t care, doesn’t matter,” says Mazikeen, reaching for her, wanting badly to be kissed.

But Eve drags her into a quiet back room where she applies disinfectant and bandaids with cartoon cats on them.

“I really wanna learn how you did that thing with your elbow,” she chatters, wiping away a few spots of blood with a white handkerchief. “The way his nose just went crunch! – man, it was fantastic.”

“I can teach you. If you like.”

Eve’s dark eyes are fond. “You’re always offering to do something for me – to teach me how to fight, or to carry something, or to protect me. It’s… like, I love it. But you know you don’t have to, right?”

“Yeah. I do.”

“I wanna do stuff for you sometimes. Oh! That reminds me. Lucifer was going to take Chloe to a wrestling match but then they had another fight and he’s back to being sad, sooo I stole the tickets out of his jacket. Wanna go?”

“I love you,” says Mazikeen, even though she’s said it five times today. She likes the way it sounds in her mouth. She likes the way it makes Eve’s whole face sparkle.

“I love you too, babe.”

#mazikeen #lucifer #lucifer morningstar #eve #chloe decker #dan espinoza #linda martin #ella lopez #my fic

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pruinesce-a2 · 4 years ago

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META: TODOROKI FUYUMI + COMPLEX PTSD.

this meta is gonna probably going to heavily reference child abuse and domestic abuse, so please don’t read if you’re vulnerable to those topics. i used a read more but i don’t think they’re working. ON TO THE META

complex ptsd ( c-ptsd ) generally develops as a result of chronic trauma, over months or years, most often experience throughout childhood; it’s rare ( but definitely not unheard of ! ) that it will develop in an adult, because, as the article i’m going to pick apart states, “ when an adult experiences a traumatic event, they have more tools to understand what is happening to them, their place as a victim of that trauma, and know they should seek support even if they don't want to. children don't possess most of these skills, or even the ability to separate themselves from another's unconscionable actions. the psychological and developmental implications of that become complexly woven and spun into who that child believes themselves to be -- creating a messy web of core beliefs much harder to untangle than the flashbacks, nightmares and other posttraumatic symptoms that come later. ”

emotion regulation. “ survivors with c-ptsd have a very difficult time with emotions -- experiencing them, controlling them, and for many, just being able to comprehend or label them accurately. many have unmanaged or persistent sadness, either explosive or inaccessible anger [...] they may be chronically numb, lack the appropriate affect in certain situations, be unable to triage sudden changes in emotional content [...] it's also very common for these survivors to re-experience emotions from trauma intrusively - particularly when triggered. these feelings are often disproportionate to the present situation, but are equal to the intensity of what was required of them at the time of a trauma -- also known as an emotional flashback. ”

the first things that stand out to me here: fuyumi easily fits the criteria of unmanaged or persistent sadness, but what really catches my eye is the concept of inaccessible anger. the boys very clearly fall under explosive anger, but fuyumi ... is seemingly never angry. it's a common point of contention in many posts i’ve seen about her; that she’s not reacting the way she should as a victim of abuse, that she “undermines” her brothers’ trauma by wanting to forgive her father. first of all i shouldn’t have to remind the fandom that she, too, is a victim of that abuse but it’s also entirely untrue that she’s disregarding her brothers because she even canonically identifies that she feels the same way they do - she identifies that yes, she is angry, yes, she understands they’re well within their rights to be so. but unlike them, this anger is ... far away. fuyumi, physically, emotionally, cannot bring that anger to the front. it’s frustrating for her, too.

i also want to point out the last sentence in this point: emotional flashbacks + the phrase “ what was require of them at the time of a trauma. ” an important thing to note is that often times, throughout fuyumi’s experience with these events … she’s the level-headed one. she’s the calm one. she’s the one mediating. this isn’t a new behavior - in an effort to mitigate her father’s abuse, this calm, peaceful nature is what these traumatic events have required of her, and as such, when anything begins to show potential for going wrong, she reverts back to this behavior.

explosive anger + disproportionate intensities in a certain situation definitely apply to natsuo; see the way he gets so angry over seemingly minute comments. touya / dabi is just. all over the place w/ this one he’s in all of it

difficulty with self-perception. “ in its simplest form, how they see themselves versus how the rest of the world does can be brutally different. some may feel they carry or actually embody nothing but shame and shameful acts - that they are "bad". others believe themselves to be fundamentally helpless; they were let down by so many who could've stopped their abuse but didn't [...] many see themselves as responsible for what happened to them [...] and, countless others may feel defined by stigma, believe they are nothing more than their trauma, worry they're always in the way or a burden, or they may sense they're just completely and utterly different from anyone or anything around them - they are alien. startling as it is, all of these feelings and more can live inside someone whom, to you, seems like the most brilliant, competent, strong, and compassionate human being you know. ”

she holds herself partially responsible for her father’s abuse - this is ALSO outright stated as canon, as seen here and here. the idea of helplessness, and particular bringing in the idea of learned helplessness ( thank u @/unsighty for pointing that out ) is ALSO very important to note here ... note in the shifuku page she says, “ i couldn’t do anything for shouto. ” both fuyumi AND natsuo also probably struggle with the idea of being a burden ( that neglect says hello ! ) / being in the way, too.

i also really like this note about how these feelings can be present in someone labeled “ brilliant, competent, strong, and compassionate ” ... because that’s exactly what fuyumi is seen as.

interruptions in consciousness. “ some may forget traumatic events (even if they knew of them once before), relive them intrusively, recall traumatic material in a different chronological order, or other distressing experiences of what is called dissociation. dissociation is a symptom that exists on a spectrum, ranging anywhere from harmless daydreaming or temporarily "spacing out"; to more disruptive episodes of feeling disconnected from one's body or mental processes, not feeling real, or losing time; all the way to the most severe, which includes switching between self-states (or alters), as is seen in dissociative identity disorder. episodes of missing time can range anywhere from a few minutes, a couple days, or even large chunks of one's childhood. The larger gaps in time are typically only seen in did, but those with c-ptsd alone can still endure 'interruptions in consciousness' that result in memory gaps, poor recall, traumatic material that is completely inaccessible, or, conversely, re-experiencing trauma against their will (e.g. flashbacks, intrusive images, body memories, etc.). ”

while this is definitely a symptom we see more of in shouto ( my boy is dissociating 24/7 ) , fuyumi experiences it sometimes as well. memory gaps, poor recall, and particularly re-experiencing trauma applies to fuyumi here - i think by and large she deals with intrusive imagery; i.e., while she’s in the kitchen, if she hears shouto nearby, or sometimes if she hears the kettle whistling / crying on the tv, she gets a flood of memories of shouto and her mother on the floor in the kitchen.

i think dabi can definitely be HEAVILY attributed to the idea of these losses in time, disconnecttions and self-states - and like with fuyumi, he definitely experiences intrustive imagery. we see that here, i think.

difficulty with relationships. “ this refers more to a survivor's potential to feel completely isolated from peers and not even knowing how to engage, to harboring an outright refusal to trust anyone (or just not knowing why they ever should), trusting people way too easily (including those who are dangerous, due to a dulled sense of alarm), perpetually searching for a rescuer or to do the rescuing, seeking out friends and partners who are hurtful or abusive because it's the only thing that feels familiar, or even abruptly abandoning relationships that are going well for any number of reasons. ”

fuyumi, first of all, definitely struggles to know how to engage with her peers. she’s outgoing and clearly a people person - so it’s often a question why she’s so nervous and struggles to make relationships and ... well. here’s why.

i don’t think fuyumi outright refuses to trust anyone, but there is intense hesitance and unsureness, particular for certain groups of people: men, people who are much taller & bigger than her, people who have some kind of fire affinity / ability, and people who are loud. the idea of perpetually searching for a rescuer, or to do the rescuing ... while typically you might think she falls under the former ( and i think she does, in a way. fuyumi never talks about her trauma, but her concept of love ties into this - someone who can take her away from her father, someone who has the power to do that? someone who is unafraid of him, or someone that he has no hold over? yeah. looking @ kenta n nishiki w this one ), fuyumi also searches to do the rescuing. once again i’m referencing this page - “ she became a teacher to compensate the fact that she couldn’t protect her younger brother. ”

i’m also pointing at the “dulled sense of alarm” - in my canon, fuyumi, for example, went out and put herself in the way of danger and met with less than savory contacts in an attempt to find information on dabi, once she got the inkling he might be touya.

obviously shouto and natsuo also have this urge to rescue, and dabi doesn’t trust anyone.

the perception of one's perpetrators. “ this can be one of the most insidious battles for some survivors with c-ptsd -- even if it seems crystal clear to those on the outside. victims of such prolonged trauma may eventually surrender, assuming their abuser(s) total power over them, possibly even maintaining this belief once they're 'free'. "i'll always be under their thumb, they call all the shots, they may even know what's best for me more than i ever will." others may feel deep sadness or profound guilt at just the thought of leaving them - including long after they've successfully left, if they were able. some may remain transfixed by their abuser's charming side or the warm public persona that everyone loves; it may feel truly impossible to think ill of them. many hold a constant longing for their abusers to just love them - craving their praise well into adulthood, slaving away in their personal lives just to make them proud. alternatively, there are others who may obsess about them angrily, holding only hatred and disdain for them to the point of persistent bitterness and/or vengefulness. some can even stir desires to seek that revenge. (though, it should be clearly noted that it's not at all common for them to actually do so. It's more about the thoughts than the actions.)

many survivors can have a primary, more surface-layer set of thoughts and feelings about their perpetrator(s), particularly when asked. they may know what they're "supposed to say" or "supposed to feel", and then follow suit. but it's helpful to know that a collection of all these responses can, and often does, coexist within one person, vacillating between extremes underneath what's shown to the world or even to themselves. day to day, and year to year, their feelings may shift - and - what the survivor knows to be true intellectually versus what they feel emotionally may remain incongruent for a very long time. ”

OKAY SO. THAT’S A BIG ONE. THAT’S A LOT TO READ. but i think it’s very, very important to fuyumi’s reaction to her trauma, and also to the fandom misconceptions of her. fuyumi clearly is very attached to her father. there’s no denying that. and the particular sentences that stand out to me here are “some may remain transfixed by their abuser’s charming side or public persona” and “they know what they’re supposed to feel”. i’ve said continuously that her father being a hero, and one so well-known and praised at that, has HEAVILY affected her views of him ! as a child fuyumi conflagrated his public persona as the “real” him. she struggled with this...... idea that his violence + aggression were a kind of "fake" version of him - aka "that's not the real him", "he's not always like that", "he used to be a lot nicer", etc. etc. and it’s only as she got older that she moved away from this line of thinking, though she still catches herself with it now and then. and, of course, fuyumi only ever wanted his attention and praise. she worked tirelessly to please him, trying to get him to come to her skating competitions, getting top marks in school, attending todai, always having dinner on the table in spite of her obligations.

it’s also so important to note the second paragraph in this section. fuyumi knows she should be enraged, she should want nothing to do with him, but that’s just ... really difficult for her, i think, especially when unlike shouto and natsuo, she remains in that environment. so there’s this disconnect between her desire for his love + making him proud, to defend him, to make their family “whole” again vs. the knowledge that she shouldn’t want anything to do with him.

natsuo holds that persistent bitterness, and dabi definitely wants revenge so um. yes. next point

one's 'system of meanings'. “ of the many, many well-observed developmental disruptions those with c-ptsd face, one that many find to be the toughest to conquer [...] is what's referred to as one's 'system of meanings' ; an area that, after being subjected to such tumultuous trauma, can feel almost irreparable. what this criterion is referring to is the struggle to hold on to any kind of sustaining faith or belief that justice will ever be served to indiscretions of ethics and morality. these survivors' outlook on life and the world at large can be unfairly contorted, and understandably so.

they may doubt there is any goodness or kindness in the world that isn't selfish-hearted. they may worry they'll never find forgiveness. others may even believe they only came to this world to be hurt, so there can be no good coming for them. this level of hopelessness and despair, as well as these greater meanings assigned to their suffering, can fluctuate greatly over time. there may even come several years where things no longer feel so bleak or as though they were conned of a meaningful life. but, as more layers of trauma are processed in therapy, or new memories bubble to the surface, they may wrestle with it once more as new feelings strike a devastating chord inside their chest. this is a common experience for so many survivors, and can have lasting ramifications with each plunge. ”

this point is, clearly, much more extreme in her brothers. shouto’s aggravation at being reprimanded for breaking the law when it meant doing good; natsuo’s clear resentment of heroes; and this one is, of course, most prevalent in dabi. see: “ the struggle to hold on to any kind of sustaining faith or belief that justice will ever be served to indiscretions of ethics and morality, ” or “ they may doubt there is any goodness or kindness in the world that isn't selfish-hearted. they may worry they'll never find forgiveness. ” LIKE HELLO. the hatred of heroes, the idolization of stain. SCREAMS DABI

i think fuyumi’s ‘system of meanings’ is ... much less disturbed than her brothers’ ( COUGH DABI COUGH ), but there still is some disruption there. by and large, fuyumi still believes that the good in the world outweighs the bad - but the disruption in her belief is also going to be that the hero system is a falsity, it’s a sham, it’s glorified and she inherently dislikes the concept of heroism.

so anyway. i’m upset hbu

#✲ \ 𝚃𝙾 𝙸𝚂𝙼𝙴𝙽𝙴 ‚ meta.#head empty FUYUMI ONLY !!!#abuse //#child abuse //#domestic abuse //#ask to tag //#long post //

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beautifulphoenixdoll · 4 years ago

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CENTER OF HOPE

I have Borderline Personality Disorder. I am ashamed to say that, and I shouldn’t be. I never judge anyone else or anyone else’s diagnosis. I did not ask for this condition. But I have it, like several millions who have mental health illnesses. For the first time in the history of the human species Mental Health is being discussed amongst each other openly in much more public avenues. That being said, I feel it is my due diligence to use my voice, and share what it has been like to live with Borderline Personality Disorder. Imagine a blister, fragile to the touch, prone to infection, with just a thin layer of skin protecting your insides from being exposed to collecting dirt or other bacteria that cause a fatal infection if untreated. A borderline female is a beautiful and chaotic thing. On one hand we tend to be the most loving, creative, sensitive, thoughtful, and compassionate beings. On the other we have spent our lives taking in messages and our surroundings and using them against ourselves, feeling controlled by our emotions, afraid of our own brains and the places our thoughts can lead us to. A common thread is that we mostly we have spent our lives in SO much pain. Pain that I would not wish on my worst enemy. Pain that a razor or blade soothe, for a blades sharp edge doesn’t even come close to how we are feeling inside but is sharp enough to distract us from the pain within. We are known to seek attention at any cost. Starving ourselves, or overeating. Whether its selling our bodies, offering our bodies, or treating our own like nothing more then a sexual object we seek the comfort of someone elses to let us know we are alright, that we are indeed desired, that we can be “loved”. Because we hate the skin were in. Because having someone’s hand on us even if it is just for a night means we don’t have to be alone. Being Alone is the scariest place to be. Alone the pain is magnified and something that would rub a non bpd the wrong way could make us feel like we want to end it all and just die. We convince ourselves that living—living is just too hard, and that this pain…. This all consuming pain that cripples us physically, emotionally, spiritually—I mean all around-- will never end. There are times where we see clearly. Those are the times we are happy to be alive. We get another day to enjoy the sun that beams brightly on our faces—you can see when were happy, when we are in love, when we believe in something positive and strongly—you will never question how we feel—for we cannot hide it… we are open souls and we are open hearted and the least judgemental creatures that are seeking to be understood while trying to understand our own sense of self. That is where Borderline Personality gets tricky--- especially young borderlines because our brains, sense of time, and worldly knowledge are still so far from being fully developed. Not only do we have a lot to learn but we have to learn it while our brain is on fire. And that is the thing—I Spent most of my life fighting my BPD symptoms on top of just trying to have a life, go to school, make friends, be a good daughter and sister, and girlfriend… and it was all just too much to take on. A simple task became the end of the world for me--- no one would ask someone to stitch up a hole on the back of their jeans while they were stuck in their house that was on fire surrounded by flames… they would tell them to get out. And that is how I felt—entitled to get out, in any way, any shape, or form… I just had to get out of my brain. But in the moment how do you explain that to someone who doesn’t understand that sewing up a hole with needle and thread pushes you off the edge? And that was what it was like when I was emotionally dysregulated. I was and can be a DANGER to myself. I wouldn’t harm a fly-a rat-a mouse, but I am the most LETHAL when it comes to myself, and myself only. Some of us break things, I did. But only to demonstrate the rage that built up inside of me. Only to show people that inside I am indeed hurting to this amount. The desire to be understood, or for someone to tell us that they too feel similarly—is so needed and helpful in the most profound way. I say this because without meeting the wonderful human beings I have met in treatment facilities suffering from BPD or other mental health diagnosis—all with gifts and challenges and a battle to fight of their own-- I would never EVER have the courage to come forward and share my experience.

It is in breaking my anonymity that I want to share with everyone that suffers with a mental health diagnosis that you are not alone. That you have nothing to be ashamed of, and that you can have a healthy and productive life with a recovery plan. Mental Health Treatment is much like attending AA—you need a DAILY reprieve to battle your condition. Without a treatment plan, without the proper and continuous and regimented medication (if needed), therapy, support system, and schedule you will have a much rougher time combating whatever youre facing. Not only is mental health a booming topic of discussion but the field itself is growing in ways that are remarkable. I spent so long fighting my diagnosis, fighting the treatment, fighting taking medication, fighting was recommended because I did not want to have my diagnosis. I did not want to believe I was in a category of people that needed pills to function normally—but how many people take medication every day to make sure their bones stay strong, or help with their lactose intolerant problems?

Everyday I wake up and re commit to another day of making sure my mental health is my number one priority—and the first thing I do is reminding myself that I ACCEPT myself for everything that I am. That I am not my diagnosis but that I indeed have Borderline. With practice and effort the things that once seemed so heavy no longer are, but only because I have been attending a diagnostic program where I have been able to set up a structured schedule that I will maintain after leaving. I noticed that If I sleep at the same time and wake at the same time, I am a different person. I noticed that with daily physical exercise even if it means walking for an hour I feel much better about myself and my body stays energized. Meditation is so crucial. As long as I meditate once a day in the morning my entire day tends to go positively. I have become a huge fan of DBT. I was not always a fan- especially as an adolescent --- oh how against it I once was… The workbook and concepts that were (this is putting it lightly) mundane, boring, and militant are what my mind craves. I love the structure-I love what it has given back to me.

The young girl who was so terrified of herself and her own brain knows that feelings are just feelings—I mean I always understood that saying but I never had any control of my own feelings—I was a runner. You couldn’t get me to sit still, or spend an evening alone with having a complete meltdown EVER. I am so strong now that I laugh at that—I laugh because I am free. I am smiling as I write this because I know that I have the skills to face things, have done so here at lidner. I smashed the fear of having to sit through things, to get through things on my own that used to CONSUME me WHOLE—and now do it happily because that means that I AM in control not the other way around. Lindner and DBT has given me, myself back. There is not a better gift once can receive after being lost for so long. I keep thinking gosh I want to share it with everyone—I feel like ive been given this secret remedy--- so I have never been more excited to start my life, to give back, to try and help others who are still struggling battling themselves, their brains, their emotions this wonderful tool that not only has saved my life but has also given me myself back.

Can I say it again: I am in control of my emotions- I can sit with them- I can stay self regulated- I can challenge my thoughts and not be afraid- I handle crisis’ without making things worse and I definitely without a doubt have more better days then bad ones. Who would have ever thought this would happen? It surely feels like a dream, but its happened since January 7th 2021—and it will continue to happen because Ive been given the key, and its not going anywhere else except for in my daily routine.

#dbt therapy #dbt #borderline personality problems #bpd recovery #truth #radicalselflove #hope #mentalwellness #yourenotalone #letsunite #smashthestigma #howtomoveon #recovery #who else is here #helping others

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health690 · 4 years ago

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The Buzz on Health

The Definitive Guide to Health

That could indicate no even more frustrations, back and also neck discomfort, or jaw pain, as well as far better breathing, less tiredness, and also more energy. It may be one of the factors why you're not feeling your best.

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What you eat is a large part of your wellness and also wellness. "You need to minimize your intake of red meat as well as animal fat.

Rest is right up there with diet regimen and also exercise as an essential component of wellness and wellness. Drinking as well much is a sure way to conflict with a healthy and balanced way of living.

Not known Facts About Health

People who take an energetic role in their very own health and wellness care experience much better health and wellness and health. Health and wellness as well as wellness also implies a healthy and balanced emotional and social life.

An individual can work with fitness teachers to determine muscle endurance or record the number of repetitions of a particular exercise they can execute before getting to the exhaustion state. To raise muscle endurance, ACE advise a mix of reduced and upper body exercises, with reinforcing workouts to target the whole body.

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A comparing HIIT and also steady-state training notes: "Range in the kind of workout is as important as the type of workout. Especially thinking about that the health advantages of exercise have actually to be viewed in the context of the possibility that workout is continued for several years, not simply the weeks of a regulated study."When training to enhance muscular endurance, what matters most is not the sort of exercise, yet exactly how individuals make their exercise.

An individual's one rep max is the optimum load with which a person can complete one rep of a workout. An individual may wish to utilize the leg press machine at the health club to develop endurance in the legs. If they have an RM of 300 pounds (pounds), they should aim to perform 24 sets of 15 or more associates with a lots of 150lbs or much less, with short pause in between sets.

The Of Health

ACE recommend the complying with workouts for developing muscle mass endurance, which an individual can carry out at house without tools: Pushup, A push-up works the triceps, chest, as well as shoulder muscle mass. Start in a push-up setting by raising the body off the ground with the hands as well as toes, with the body in a straight line, straight to the floor.

Bow down by bending the knees, keeping the body weight focused over the arches of the feet as well as the upper legs parallel to the flooring. Keep the back straight with the shoulders back and chest forwards. Use the feet, legs, and also aware of push back approximately the beginning placement. Beginners ought to aim for 510 reps, and also they might carry out the squat against a wall or end the motion in a seated placement on a reduced surface to make it less complicated.

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Slowly crinkle the top body in the direction of the knees, maintaining the reduced back on the floor covering. Execute 1015 repetitions for one novice set.

Place the legs at ideal angles directly in the air and also reach with the arms towards the feet. Slowly reduced the legs as well as torso back to the floor. Execute for 1015 repetitions for one beginner collection. A person can also hold a security ball in between their ankle joints throughout this exercise.

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Keep the chin tucked in, with the abdominals and also thighs tight. An individual can change this workout by relaxing on the forearms instead of the hands if they discover it testing to hold the plank placement with straight arms.

#Health

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theexleynatureblog · 4 years ago

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The Bundy Group

So I just learned something startling I thought I should post: In Jan 2016, a group of extremists seized the Malheur National Wildlife Refuge in Oregon. The act was in protect to the incarceration of two ranchers who purposely set fire to their land, which spread onto the refuge. Untimely, the acts were rebellion against federal control of land. Below are some quotes from the protestors. primarily from the Bundy brothers who orchestrated the assault:

"All comfort, all wealth ... comes from the Earth, and we cannot have the government restricting the use of that to the point where it puts us in poverty."

"I will say this refuge from its very inception has been a tool of tyranny."

“This refuge here is rightfully owned by the people and we intend to use it.”

“The best possible outcome is that the ranchers that have been kicked out of the area, then they will come back and reclaim their land, and the wildlife refuge will be shut down forever and the federal government will relinquish such control.”

While protesting in a nearby town, a small but armed group split off and occupied the Malheur NWR center. The standoff lasted 41 days with the occupants saying they wouldn’t leave until they regained their rightful land. The occupancy resulted in property damage to the building, land damage from unauthorized excavations (trenches used for toilets), broken fences, fights with conservationists, neighboring tribe members, and law enforcement. One confrontation resulted in several arrests and one protestor fatality who apparently threatened police. The final days of the occupancy was with four people who protested the shooting until they were seized by police.

Now, on the surface this may seem like a ‘noble’ display of patriotism and rebellion, but let me inform y’all what a wildlife refuge actually is.

Map of the current refuges in the US.

The first wildlife refuges were created by Theodore Roosevelt, who was an active sport’s hunter and a member of the Boon and Crockett Club - a rich-person’s sporting club. Roosevelt’s goal was preserving North America’s ‘big game’ for future generations to enjoy.

Wild spaces were not created out of concern for the environment, but preservation for human use. When colonizers came to the America’s, they disregarded the thousands of years of management for wildlife by native tribes. A mixture of market hunting (commercially hunting to stock restaurants and stores) habitat loss, and introductions of invasive species changed the landscape and its animals drastically, sometimes to a point beyond repair. The recognition of the loss of timber and water sources sparked the designation of national parks and refuges for the identical reason - preservation for human use.

President Theodore Roosevelt on Pelican Island, casually allowing one of the islands inhabitants devour his hand.

Pelican Island was the first Wildlife Refuge created in 1903 by Theodore Roosevelt, who would later add many more designated wildlife areas. Despite the purpose of the refuges being anthro-centric (and further, only accessible to upper-class white society), the refuges served an important function to wildlife. As regulated hunting laws were still in development or lacked enforcement, it gave animals a place to escape hunting pressure. The actual shooting is only one factor - the influx of foot and vehicle traffic, noise from ammunition, startled herds and flocks, human camps, and later-on effects of pollutants from lead shot all contribute to stresses that impact individual survival. These refuges were not open to hunting or any resource harvest at certain times of the year or in certain sections.

The Malheur Refuge was one of the original areas designated by President Roosevelt himself. Many of these refuges were focused on protecting birds, victims of the millinery trade. Feathers of adult birds (mainly targeted during breeding seasons) and sometimes entire birds were used to decorate woman’s hats. This attack on the breeding population led to a sharp decline that alarmed outdoor enthusiasts and bird-watchers alike. Read more about the Feather Hat Trade.

Today, the refuge has multiple uses. A stop along the Pacific Flyway, it is an important space for migrating waterfowl. Besides biology, refuge also is used in studying geology. Having once been inhabited by native tribes, the refuge provides members of the Burns Paiute Tribe to continue cultural traditions and hunting/fishing practices.

Map of habitats.

The refuge does important work for wildlife, but it comes at a cost. Roosevelt designating ‘wild’ areas to be free of human contact also meant native tribes had no access to the resources they depended on. Today luckily, some of that is changed, and tribal members play an important part of managing in some of the refuges.

Read some of the Tribal Wildlife Conservation success stories!

The loss of access also sparked problems with ranchers. In the Western US, large expanses of grazable land were claimed by farmers ready to make money on their stock. The history of homesteading ranchers is messy, often colliding with native groups, conservationists, and others.

All human activity has environmental impacts, and ranching is no exception. Whether those impacts are good or bad depends on the responsibility and knowledge of the rancher. For example, grazing in an important management technique that can both reduce grasses and spread them. A herd of cattle can save a grassland from desertification or cause it. Its all on the rancher to be environmentally caution - but caution is often more expensive and risky.

For the past centuries, fragmenting the landscape with barbed wire, fences, and roads and rails that have caused problems for wildlife also cause problems for ranches trying to move their herds. National Parks with grazable (or even in some cases areas that were sensitive to grazing but used anyway) areas became available for livestock owners to rent. But still remained constant competition with multiple interests - mining, development, hunting, and conversation efforts.

The events from the Malheur Occupancy seemed to stem from these kinds of frustrations.

Now here comes the part where I make people aware of my personal opinions and biases, because I believe its important to understand what I am trying to say. My biases lean towards environmentalism based in western scientific technique. This is because I have a passion for wildlife and a drive to protect it. So far, I have acquired most of my knowledge from institutes that teach the important of science - mostly from western sources, though I do hope to learn from other parts of the world as well. To be bluntly honest, I don’t give a darn about ranchers, especially in light of the historical impacts of grazing in the Western US - that being said, I do try to understand their position. I can understand the lure of working with animals and the outdoors. Its also important to understand that this kind of work requires a lot of time and a specific skillset. If you donate your time to mastering a career like this, odds are your haven’t mastered much else. You can’t afford to ‘just change jobs’. If you livestock or crop fails, you’re screwed financially. This is why some farmers just can’t risk going organic, or not expanding their fields. They can’t always consider the environmental impacts. A farmer/ranchers whole life is quite literally tied to the land they have to work on. This is why they feel so strongly about federal lands.

I really hate that sometimes it comes down to farmers versus wildlife. It shouldn’t be this tug-o-war, we should all be working together to do what’s best for the land that so many different people and animals have to use. Land managers have to consider farmers, wildlife, and public interest when planning lands for use. Each of us should also have consideration for each other.

The occupation of the facility costs approximately $6 million in damages and facility security. That is money that could have gone to wildlife projects. There was also the damages of mental trauma, emotional trauma, and damages of Burns-Paiute cultural artifacts desecrated.

The Malheur refuge was also working on an important Invasive Carp Control project. These fish, introduced from Eurasia, caused big problems for native fish, plants, and even birds. They are known for muddying water quality, which inhibits the functions of plants and fish.

"Carp are so hard to eradicate because they're the perfect invasive species," Beck said. "They're kind of like the feral pig of the waterway."

The project has gone on for many years with many different methods tested, from dynamite to robotics. Controlling invasive species is a time-sensitive operation. There are moments - spawning/migrating - that occur only a few weeks out of the year that are prime for removing large numbers of individuals. Work is also non-stop. Fish like carp are prolific breeders. A few days rest could result in a few hundred extra.

The occupancy of Malheur made the carp project and other work come to a total halt for months. This has ultimately set the projects back by decades.

In Oct. of 2016, the leaders of the standoff, Ammon and Ryan Bundy, were Pardoned by the Trump Admin.

In regards to how this whole thing started, I sincerely can’t say whether who was in the wrong. The ranchers claimed to be practicing brush control by fire, but Federal investigation suspected the fires were set to hide evidence of poached deer. Whether it was in the right or not, the fires spread onto Refuge land, which put the farmers in violation. Burning private land for management purposes was legal in this case, but it is the manager’s responsibility to keep the fire under control. Fires should be kept low to the ground with bounders (roads, rivers) to prevent it from spreading. Wind direction should be constantly monitored, and there should be a small team of people at the ready in case the fire gets too big. There’s no evidence to suggest the group took the proper precautions.

While the street march and protect was entirely within the group’s rights, I believe the occupation of the Malheur refuge was unjustified. There was no reason for the protestors to be armed, and the individuals acts of desecrating the building, grounds, and cultural artifacts went well beyond what the group stated to be their original purpose. The occupancy had no regard for the safety of the workers or surrounding residents, and certainly no regard for the conservation work currently taking place.

The group wanted to protest the Federal authority over land they believed was theirs, and they did so by damaging the refuge and threatening the workers there.

I believe all action taken on lands should be done with environmental and ecological impacts considered, which was not the case in this instance.

Sources:

The NY Times

NPR

The Washington Post

Reuters

Fish and Wildlife Service

KGW8

The Oregonian - events timeline

#science #enviromentalism #history #nature #animals #national parks

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rwmhunt · 4 years ago

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Leviticus, Chapter 25

1. It is fair to say that a poet Doesn't know their audience, When after 3000 years, a poet Doesn't know their audience. And here we've struck against the base Of our own Biblical Mount Sinai, where God, inside of the mountain, Could be locked therein for ever, yet, From an ocean of unconsciousness, hath he Up and telt this 'bunch of stuff' unto Moses-

2. Promises, promises, lo, My sabbaths; remember them? To summarize- whence Heading out of Exodus, Toward the underground city of Fuckinghell, God continues to remind the Israelites, How it were he who has them here, At assay in an escape of Egypt, As they go totalitaring across a plain, The which of is hardly considered In their headlong rush to go slow.

3. Six years sowing of land That you havn't got yet; So god gets Moses to Shovel it into the frontal lobe, Repeating things unto his pals, So sets off an imflammatory cascade, The old Israelites; a retinue, A ruptcy, @chemical riot, And that bunch of other stuff, You know this, but I'm reminding.

4. A seventh is a sabbath year- A sour, sownless, Pruneless kind of a year, You see it here, for Books are about power And bitter in at least two obvious ways- They first reflect the writer’s yearn For the acquisition of it, And then the mimic, With his fangled state therein, Of playing it.

5. Like most of us who are in this, Moses don’t have alot of power And less need to publish the fact- But speaketh of his learned scree- 'You write wrongly glib and varicose; aye, Where such be the matters I chose; As predisposed to distraction bade" He tries, talking withdrawl, In matters of affect- 'Your sentinels have rafted georgic, Whilest the staid remainder are discovered as wizened, and Departing from the liturgy, though heretical, You largely eschew the regular criticisms leveed agin the book.' But no, I didn't understand where this is coming from; to iterate, sometimes It's only a miracle that a meaning shouldst fall out of anything we find to say at all. Then, no gather; give solemn leave for the land Whence voice-bearers dwelt in rest, Yet as you read this, You are entering the prism of My power fantasy, And as I told you, you know this; So the dogmae live loudly in you. Woof.'

6. Connecting all these sentences, It becomes difficult- for thee, As we carry on recounting, As for thy servant, thence, for thy maid, For thy hired hand and for the settler Who, by thy side, sojourns amongst y'all; Where unto, to place the implied “because”? For lo, Power is versatile like that, And says things that send a spider sense a-creeping- So the sabbath of the land shall fall from thy alms as thy alimony, let Words be tools for regulating bodies, And say things that send a spider sense a-creeping-

7. Twill be a meat-based year For living on thy laurels with- A trope within a spectrum of abusive behaviours Alleged against the rhyzome Are scrutinising the system, where The fad prov'd trite, so I bade glib, Lo! Then terse, or droll, the dearth, I, gauche, give, both brash and stout, That it be I that is trite as it was glib For, wersh, I am not done with it- The rhyzome.

8. Muster seven sabbaths unto thee, Seven sevens be four and nine, see? From here to here, horizontally, The complete ribosomal pattern hath Codage for associative amino permutations, As universally preserved in the life taxa of all Babel, where the such displaces a lot of linear ideas, and, Lo fate, hallowed, Where hallowed is to be, For I warned thee; Go then, living as the rhyzome.

9. And make proclamation with the blast of the horn, For tis the day that it was once, hence, they Differ only in terms of the number of variables present, The coding of existing relations between the variables, And with regard to the presence or absence of an 'eigendynamic', Thus, can therefore be distinguished thither, As according to complexity, Based on these individual characteristics- As was once so it is differently, lo- Tis Yplangenday, and living is the rhyzome.

10. Round the ordinal up to L and proclaim liberty The bell, so thither, you have time's jubilee, Then let there be untethered utter manumission And flights of immigrant fantasy To whence-so-ever they think to have come. And breathless, Leviticus hath inferred That he was working unto A duel purpose- Firstly, his own double, As for control- To take the world and limit it, Or, extend it, unto his own end; And the other is to commune With the old world, the denied world, The general world; and to influence it, After his own.

11. So, la-la, be jubilee, As wild, As heady as happy can once a life, Or twice with once a memory of the other- And the pneuma of animula blows among the manna A numina, where the lord is the longest polymer chain.

12. So it is; then, Go eat the increase out of the field. But here are we levered; For it might be seen that there is a division second That can be put as of two spheres of imagination- Where firstly, there is that which is unbeknownst unto the beholder, and then also that which is consciously constructed, And yet, there is also the kingdom that lieth between, Which is a land of disconcerting paranoia and deviance, And where we must not lay with pneuma, nor numina As among the manna in the morning.

13. Yet lo, There's no point talking about it Unless you can talk about it; unless- Unless you can create enough updraft anyway; Lo! Then talk about it if you can't And I shall listen for what isn't there And look elsewhere for kennings after, And build about your unsaid vestige A most pious desire to expression; That which might uphold my feeling; No, there's no point talking about it Unless you can talk about it.

14. Barter or borrow and, For one damned year, just Don't get deceitful or try to get one over. Blindsided by the partisan nature of corporate consensus That I saw distort through the Furore Mirrors; There are many hands here, unto mine eyes, But, I don't trust the self who works emotional metaphor, So I won't continue to what I'm talking about.

15. Carry on trading way beyond, It's the local TA. Thus resides in per kilowatt hour, But what are we burning? Outside- I think it's a diesel generator; I hear it rumbling through my days Kept in the playground The fumes form long polymers, Amid the upper atmosphere, Clade with agricultural chemicals, They make headway Amidst our every organ; So be our dearest sacrifice.

16. And the market shall rise and fall With the arbitrary number of years, And whence far enough away, Return to your sarcky disposition- So what are we burning? In the tent, There's a wood burner, but, Really, detritus; Mose never minded, So any old when we run short, Mostly plastic bags; Leviticus has a fit When the smoke's building up, Talks about thousands of parts Per million.

17. To be fair, be fair, be fearful, Still me, remember? There was a grate, clarted up, That took of an outflow as from the tent, Of whatever swarf got sluiced, Unto wherever it went; the rest Were ushered up and borne out- So Terpsichore, laden with ashes, Went abroad one day, far enough That the gall and dust would not Be thought as being that of the tabernacle, Whence, dispensed, ashes and Hunks made boon to the earth's Mutable constant.

18. But the bible's broke and lost with the river That flow in serial and, as sevred, the chronicalers gone. Its belief's a decree you shall not leave me among, Nor make its fuzzy undercurent wash, Wherefore, the doing of statutes, The keeping of ordinances as them too; Though I concider, I cannot.

19. Land's a woman that yields So eat and dwell secluded therein. Love is not a symptom of time, Power is- time takes power, takes time. And you implicitly know this, so Don't think about it. Good girl Jade, who be it, That dwell in the land As declare of it a safe space?

20. And if you should be so bold as to wonder What to eat the year there's nothing, Know, that I'm not in a good mood today, Well yeah, you can say that again, so I said I'm not in a good mood today; As in; best not to press me on it, and Yeah, I heard you the first time.

21. Then sat in our suffering, Stuck in this wilderness, Black is the offering; No good for nothing, this, Left with our echo as Cut from our people. Lo, but, I'll give you a bumper crop From the previous year, and Lo! You're massive, gamesmaster. Ok, so, no worries, bonanza time; Brother, I never steer you wrong.

22. And damn it, Keep at the old store, Through the eighth, All the way into the ninth, Til your ship comes in; O Stop collapsing; Well done, men. It is not wise, it is quite unmeasured, to bait divinity With common hands, to scale Sinai, wild at heart, While sporting ultimatums of, Forgive me lord, Or I shall sin and the like- I said bring me the head of Martin Elginbrod.

23. And the land shall not be sold in perpetuity; For the land is Mine; as ye be strangers and settlers unto Me. So his own words, official words and the words of his advocates Hath set off an imflamatory cascade across hours of solid crowds. But not feeling seriously affected by the articles braught against it, He here found some unexpected allies among the Aaronide, Who, on hearing what he was proposing, Got on the blower to Moses too, and the results May be found between the leaves- as With the vertiginous chicanery they built A plutocratic sanctum of the unthinking overvue And with the allowance of themselves there to continue, Undeposed.

24. And lo, the land of our possession, Shall grant a redemption for the land itself, - So then, young people, said Tokata Iron Eyes, - I feel like we have eachother's future back; This is such a third fire that might save of us all. It won't ofcourse, but it's good to try; ...Shall granteth of us our memories; Let it be said that I so arose...

25. O forgotten brother, How came ye come so waxen poor As to prowleth these leaves, Having pawneth'd off of your possession, With I, as thy kinsman, that is next here unto thee, and Who hath come to redeem thee thy birthright Which ye hath verily, venally squandered? - Lo, for it is that I've been inside, for that I started fires; As I don't know what was wrong with me; I won’t be buccaneering with people’s lives any more, for I've come to agree 'That man should solve every problem that it hath the wit to so recognise.' And Mose rose while yet he held a look as in his eye.

26. For if a man hath no one to so redeem it, and he be waxen rich And findeth of sufficient wit to himself of it redeem; but 'You're talking into a vacuum about an unknown, So it's unlikely to feel definite.' Would you be the vacuum? 'Yes; for that I would, And yet, I am not what I meant- I mean the bit of your mind that doesn't know.'

27. Let him count the years, And restore the overplus, And get him out of hock, By the strange effect of the interaction That ends with the death of an animal; The flicker of even a spider drain, if There was an action to attain the weird, Folding-in unto an unknown metaphysical, As to return to in the everyday, and then, After a while, a bestial satiation, then, Ritual slaughter be your go-to profession- So make thyself mint.

28. And if it don't work out, well Jubilee, and all shall be returned, For that's the thing- if Fate needst me to, It could put me places No questions asked. And the thing with him, And the thing about such an interpretation As for him, is that it shouldst be of one's own- That it wasn’t wrong of Words but rather, that to Interpret was of a fault, And the problem is with your audacity in feeling uncomfortable, But, alas, tis Jubilee, so all of this is as a bridge under the water.

29 . Vicarious is my favourite word, said Leviticus, - The closest living thing to magic; Words themselves are a kind of vicariousness; And he drifted into another republic. So to the ease or otherwise of obtaining wall, if Erotion could walk by herself; it was difficult. Redeem your house for a year In a city, at zero percent and no questions- Always fair and square, aren't they? The begetting of a room advise Gleaned from passing strangers, Jade, why'd you hide your head?

30. And walled cities are a surety in Jubilee, and their tide go not out in perpetuity. There was a guy who used to draw his dreams, Because he believed them to be previsions For a future. He'd go with his opus to the local bank To have it date stamped in a photograph He'd get taken there, beneath the calendar clock. They were, at best, inconclusive, while he wouldst have Lived thither, as among his creations; - I don't know if there's a structural system in the universe; If i am a fractal of greater or lessers in a relative manner.

31. But should I find a rock Who believed a lampost to be a god, Then, verily should I be impressed with that rock; And daresay wouldst I subscribe Unto a new-found regard For the lampost to boot; so aye, All things can be called relative, By which, if you havn't a wall, You're reckoned with the field, And bailiff time be Jubilee; Now, take this learned decree hence, And be away from my townhouse.

32. I keep telling you- I don't have a favourite, And I don't think you believe me, So I keep telling you that I don't have a favourite, But if I did, it would be you, Though I treat you like shit. Oh, but you, here you can appropriate thus- Make manifest destiny through city or plain, And do not swerve for the biome in the rhyzome; That you havn't a head for mandelbrot sets.

33. It's getting technical, and tainted; Lo, forthwith, the rhyzome acknowledges That these claims about the claimants Be unclaimed, And we retract and withdraw the clause And undertake not to make repeat of them, And that means being open, Transparent and respecting The decisions made in this tent, By strangers in secret.

34. So in our submission, when one looks At our learned judge’s direviction, Freedom is an interface, A phantasmic discrepancy- You are doing as you're impelled to do, And you shalln't believe it so, And don't go selling off land.

35. Let anima be the trick That creates the illusion of life, And also that by which To behold it. And if thy brother be waxen without, And his means fall in with thee; Then thou shalt uphold him: As a stranger and a settler, So shall he live among thee. See? All's equal. And by this drystane dyke he Mopeth that fate shouldst be A fickle star, And got on, Uninterested in the plain.

36. Take thou No interest of him either, Ask not - 'Why your god?' Answer not - 'Because it's yours,' Nor - 'And how do you feel The palace of swords wouldst heareth you speak Your truth today?'. Yet there be, still, Within the arc- A falling.

37. Give him no cash Nor victuals against profit; Let him tarry and know Your god is yours alone; Is interstical and Is cut off from all other gods.

38. Else, in thy virtue, how much virtue, Meaneth you your virtue to signal? Me? I saved you, got you this place You havn't got yet; likewise, see? Manifest Destiny fell among the rationale Which led us out of Egypt in the promises, We can but carry it upon our bondsfolk.

39. And here doth he speake Of his mind As alike a torture chamber that hath Gone about something so insane As to totally overwhelm background processors; Thence, pressed into abandon, and A resultant neglect unto the congregation. Each layer, a further latent lexical signifier, And a broader drain on bios, all Ultimately, of it's own derivation, so, You might as well just assume, Where the real answer Is very close To the wrong answer.

40. The book, behoven As logistical playground, Finally spoke its silence, So I take this cardboard box for Some kind of underwater spaceform, As early evidence of animal oblation At the end of the copper age, As serve ye so until Jubilee. Don't be angry with me.

41.Lo, could I do it again And bury the text A full five times deeper yet, Then go out, to my own, And unto, such paternal possession Rest with him and ‘Hmm,' He’d say. - I’ll learn Hebrew, why not?’ and then, -'But I only know of the letters yet.'

42. My servants, as I so rescued ye, So shall ye not be drawn back to slavery Through the study of the methods of history (Historiography) Or the study of historical persons (Historicity) Where, the first few characters are my laws (Halakha) For how to make of a sacrifice, (Qorban) That a standard historical practice, (Ordinal propriety) Differentiating between what happened And what was hearsay is evinced essential, Lo, for as to a poetical artist, the difference is Negligible stroke incommodious, (Unwelcome) and, as Anytime was closer to history than this one, What do you know?

43. Let not some pious forgery Rule o'er your own with a rigor, But fear such a god who, unreasoned, Would teach the people How to eat right and be clean- Denying the biome is within the rhyzome, For, tis naught but an intolerable Bit of shuffling and roguery In the Jerusalem game of the ‘curios. Whence, various colonial archaeologists Would espouse of an erasure That it goes without saying And is thus worth pointing out- Where the particles of rust Were once elementally a part Of the thing which you are oiling, The particles of rust Were once elementally a part Of the thing which you are oiling.

44. Thus, reality, patterned, Might be applied unto, Whereon the actual engaged Behaviour hath gone and is lost; So take the over-arcing Frame, and know, Thither, it is a recreation, And, probably wrong. Then hold for thy merrye bondsmen and bonnymaidswomen, As of whom thou mayest have gained a fancy hereunto; From the nations that are round about thee, Them, shall ye buy of, that they be thy merrye bondmen and maids.

45. Lo, where each of the laws are windows Into the day of their inception, tis Hard to avoid seeing ancient archetypes at work, for- Who shouldst create a law Where there is no need for a law? Moreover, of the children of the strangers That do sojourn amongst you, Go get 'em cheap; tis my land, so your land, Tis usufruct thither, with they as thy possession.

46. And ye may make these folks into hand-me-downs: For them may ye forever take up as your bondsmen and merrymaids; But ever over your brethren, the children of Morningside, Shall ye not rule, as one over another, as with rigor. I'm not seeing the symmetry of central planning here; But lo, for in the game of one-upmanship Thus bade between the Morlocks and Moses; I'd give it to the Olmecs, Then return it to the virus. For the rest, Leviticus decryeth more fraff On how to pink the codes of holiness with examples, So, still I'm rerecounting-

47. In Exodus, God telt Mose how to build the tabernacle As a tent of meaning, Then it was that Leviticus got involved with God's teaching, As Mose blustered about over the lot and set forth his sacrifice From the land over which he cared not a jot, But to extend the part that is virgin and thus, Easily burned, as where, Maybe you left thinking Such be an example of how to priestlilly keep of your offerings, But we're still here, Positing queries to the tabernacle, Of the ways to behave in an uprightly if convoluted manner; And what am I going to do with this story Of a fellow who did all these wonderful things, Sweet hermit, who was a lion,

48. So let it be said, that Moses sacrifices Aaron to God: Leviticus doesn't remember it like that, But this's what is written, thus, will it be brought to happen. And should a strange settler do as you'd do, But to an offshoot of the rhyzome, then Redeem him damn it, you be a branch and brethren; I'm not spilling of what that means. But, Note well what he tells that isn't of story, For, as being without the narrative, So becometh it boring; Except where it's left, Both latent and loaded, With anecdote of sin or else, Suggestion of a fearful violation, As so be set to go off, though not Suchwise, as if left only unto itself- For there be the dispersal of power.

49. And lo, you can ever redeem of yourself with a flip, For poetry is forced, Forced as a rhubarb That I'd rather have, But, de gustibus, no, You shall not take My heart out To dine.

50. And that I shouldn't choose to be The appropriating, racially charged, Misanthrope that I am; which, By dint of a social education, I know, By the pointing out, I'm ok to carry it on, So giveth unto myself the blank slate- As I'm nearly finished anyway.

51. Some reckoning of years tallied by the sevens, As if it, you know; So as not to give him the pleasure... And if that doesn't work, Mathematically, put a fix in. As levity is a sacrifice That relegates the ur-text, So you will understand me; I pretend not To be the inventor Of anything;

But laughter is not so bad.

52. Lo. the corollary- - If I didn't write all this, Then somebody else would, I read, as I read back across it, And my eyes closed, And my head rolled. I've got to stop it.

53. Here watch the usurpation of another, Distastefully, and to yourself. - Sir, you keep your contempt On a high simmer Throughout your every engagement, And turn it up further Wherever you feel opportunity to do so, Whether it should be used thus or else let pass- And done so as to besmirch the other, all because You've the competitive streak that must Be made manifest among such others equally; First to sate, then, take beyond.

54. Otherwise, Jubilee, Else it is up with me on all sides. So it was with Leviticus, Who never said he were a poet, Only that his dreams Meant more to him Than they realistically Should have, and Though he drempt in such a way That he never thought he knew As to where he was, Thus it was always insubstantial, Yet such needst be enough; And that, atleast, he thought he knew.

55. Then find a man Who speaketh of people By their purpose, Himself as his own singer; Whose openness to wisdom Left him always Half an idiot, Where QED is our bible, Where holy might only Fall down to one's discretion, And use its fatal nature To activate the future, as I told you this already. Tis done.

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thebiasrekkers · 5 years ago

Text

Sincerely, Yours - JJK

For the @btswriterscorner - Amor Fabula Launch Project in celebration of the month of Valentine’s Day!

Plot: Jeon Jungkook hails from humble origins, his family ranked as Laborers. Since he is the youngest of three children, his time for the lottery has not come. But when it does, he refuses to conform to society’s system and runs away. Disowned, he’s now become a fugitive, taking on odd jobs here and there as a “runner-for-hire”. What he doesn’t realize is that he will find love in the most unexpected place.

Rating: PG-13 // SFW

Genre: dystopian!au/dystopian themes | angst | romance/fluff

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Female OC (Nikita Meyers)

Warnings: Strong language, vandalism, violence, interracial/intercultural relationship

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 7,607

AN: This is the companion piece to my first story, Touch In The Dark. This is the “rebel” view of what transpires in the world that I built. In all honesty, I think I may like the MYG version a little more, but I think it’s mostly from my love of hurting my own feelings. I still had a lot of fun with this one and I hope you all enjoy it. Writing for Jungkookis is always a good time. All reblogs, critiques/reviews, comments and affection are accepted! Happy reading!

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

~ j.j. ~

Jungkook swung his legs back and forth as he sat on the edge of a nearby building. He whistled a tune to himself, a song from a life he could barely remember these days. A former Laborer, now turned Runner, Jungkook could say that he left a life that he knew wasn’t meant for him. The Class system was such a bogus way to create order and balance in the world. The Blue Bloods stayed in the upper tier and those born in poverty or with lesser means were meant to work for the rest of their days. Throw in The Lottery Bill and that was just the cherry on top of a fucked up sundae.

A soft breeze pushed against his form as he watched the sky transform into a mesh of warm colors: pinks, purples, oranges and yellows. The sun was starting to set and the world’s light would dim, blanketed by the cobalt sky littered with the few stars he was only allowed to see as he ran from rooftop to rooftop. Running free, no longer tethered to the rules of the world that dared to shackle him to a life of meaninglessness.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. Pulling it out, he scrolled through the messages and noticed the priority one at the very top. Brushing his fingers through his hair, he sighed quietly as he glanced over the message. His newest client was scheduled to meet him in an hour. It was a standard escort job. It wouldn’t be too hard and the pay was decent.

In their society, it was a crime to “fall in love” with anyone. Period. Not even the spouse that was chosen during an individual’s Lottery drawing. Love fueled emotions that often led to the ruins of others. Passion had the potential to overshadow logic and reason. When logic and reason were cast aside, only terrible things happened. Emotions were just bad things and led to bad times.

Jungkook didn’t buy into that horseshit.

It was the main reason he abandoned his station in life and lived in the moment. He didn’t worry about yesterday. He could care less about tomorrow. Today was all that mattered and all that would matter when it was finally said and done.

He slid his thumb over the screen, dialing the number of his new “job” detail. The man answered quickly, interrupting the second ring.

“Is this Jeon Jungkook?”

Jungkook smirked at the hushed tone in the man’s voice. “It is. Is this Min Yoongi?”

“Yes,” he replied softly, as if trying to gauge Jungkook’s own tone, “were you able to secure safe passage for both my wife and me?”

Clambering to his feet, he dusted off the backs of his weathered jeans and knocked a bit of dirt off his boots. “That’s not my area of expertise, I’m afraid. That was taken care of by a different handler.”

He knew he was being a little shit, but sometimes it was all about asking the right questions.

There was a semi-long pause from the other end of the line, followed by a slow sigh of what could be presumed as mounting exasperation.

“So why was I directed to you?”

Jungkook’s grin grew a little wider. “Because I’m the one who’s going to get you out in one piece.”

“I see,” Yoongi said, as if he was mulling over something, “so you’re a Runner.”

It wasn’t a question.

“That’s right.”

“I just hope you’re as fast as that mouth of yours.”

He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. “I’m faster, trust me.” Pushing back the sleeve of his jacket, he spied the time. “I’ll meet you at the Square in half an hour. Don’t be late.”

And without waiting for a reply, Jungkook ended the call. Pulling out his earbuds, he connected the jack to the phone and slipped the buds on. It didn’t take him long to find the song he wanted, cranking up the volume as the intro crescendoed slowly. Inhaling lungfuls of air, he stretched his arms out wide and then raised them up so they were parallel with his head. Once he loosened up the muscles, he rolled his neck and hopped up and down - shaking his arms for good measure.

He always had to psyche himself up for things like this.

As soon as the balls of his feet hit the ground, Jungkook lunged forward. Up and over the edge of the roof. The world rushed by him in a blur of motion, his dark hair flying off his forehead. The night was cool, but the wind stung his eyes - making them water. He quickly wiped at them, curling his body inward and then extending his limbs. The concrete scraped at the pads of his fingers, but it didn’t take him long to realign his body, forcing his lower half to swing off to the side so that he could catch the railing of the fire escape.

The bars rattled violently when his heels planted themselves onto the platform, but he was already climbing up the bars to reach the next rooftop. Once Jungkook made it over the edge, his legs pumped the ground in tandem with his heavily beating heart.

Unconsciously, his mouth spread into a wide open smile.

Free-running. They couldn’t have called it something better if they tried.

Sweat broke out across his brow and the pulse of the song’s bass seemed to reverberate throughout his entire body. With every jump, lunge, catch and pull he performed, Jungkook’s elation only seemed to climb. It would be too soon if he could never run as free as he was now.

Heaving and halfway covered in perspiration, Jungkook arrived at the designated meeting spot within fifteen minutes. It gave him just enough time to grab a bottle of water from a nearby vending machine, emptying half the contents over his head and soaking his hair. Onlookers peered at him curiously, but he didn’t pay them any attention. He almost never did. He drained what was left in the bottle, savoring the feeling of re-hydrating himself.

Craning his neck, he located a nearby waste bin and was about to toss the bottle into it - arms stretched like he was shooting a basketball into a hoop.

He stumbled forward suddenly, his body pushed forward from an unexpected impact. Grunting, he quickly pivoted on his heels to see who was responsible, but all he caught sight of was a ball cap flying in his line of sight as auburn curls flew past him. Jungkook reached out and snatched the hat out of the air as the owner turned to catch a glimpse of him.

Her dark gray eyes glared at him, catching Jungkook off guard. Despite living in South Korea, Jungkook was used to foreigners. But he certainly didn’t remember seeing someone with those eyes and soft caramel skin. Her hair looked dyed, but it strangely suited her.

Jungkook took a step forward, holding her hat out to her. Instead of taking it back, she continued to shift her gaze from him and then to the hat. He grinned.

“Not even a thank you, huh? You don’t want this back?” He waved the cap back and forth, as though he were trying to keep a cat’s attention on him. “Is this mine now?”

He hadn’t seen her move. In fact, he didn’t even realize she’d closed what small distance existed between them. Not until Jungkook felt a soft burst of pain near his stomach. The wind was knocked from him almost immediately and all he could manage was a wide-eyed stare at her.

She grinned, twisting her fist into his stomach a little more. “Not a chance, you fucking tool,” replied the girl.

Jungkook collapsed to one knee when she took a step back, her hat not back in her possession. He struggled to reclaim what air was stolen from him, one dark brown eye glaring up at her. Not to say that women were weak, but he hadn’t expected a punch from a pretty girl to hurt this much.

Hopping back on one foot, she waved the hat at him in a farewell gesture before sliding it back onto her head. She turned and bolted from the square without so much as a second glance at him. He coughed, rubbing at his chest in an attempt to regulate his breathing again.

Wow, what a bitch, he thought, but Jungkook found himself smirking once the pain subsided.

Maybe he was a glutton for punishment.

“Are you alright?”

The voice jarred him from his thoughts and he quickly scrambled to his feet. He was face to face with his temporary charge, Min Yoongi. Standing beside him was a woman with dark brown curls, hazel eyes, and mocha skin. She peered at Jungkook curiously, her hand laced through Yoongi’s. She was also a foreigner from what he could tell, and well-known through the news as the “Charity Selection” picked from The Lottery two years ago.

He folded his arms across his chest. “This might be a little difficult.”

Yoongi lofted a brow. “And why is that?”

“Well,” Jungkook began, taking a few steps toward them before circling around both of them, “your wife’s kinda popular.”

The older man narrowed his eyes. “So you’re not going to be able to help us?”

“I didn’t say that.” He held a hand up and then waved it through the air, as if shooing away a gnat. “I just said that it’ll be a little difficult. Not impossible.” Jungkook met their gazes and grinned. “I got this. Trust me.”

~ n.m. ~

“Nikita, that was reckless.”

Removing the baseball cap, she roughly ran her fingers through her curls while scoffing. She carelessly tossed the parcel onto the table. “What does it matter? I got you what you asked for.”

The man seated at the table steepled his fingers, dark eyes peering over his knuckles at her. Nikita waited for him to say something, but he merely sighed and began to untie the twine wrapped around the brown paper packaging. It was his way of dismissing her, but letting Nikita know that she wasn’t completely off the hook. He’d find a way to pay her back and it wouldn’t be pretty.

She knew this because it wouldn’t be the first time.

Not wanting to press her luck, Nikita quickly vacated the office and closed the door behind her. She rested her shoulder against the door frame, mentally kicking herself for what she’d said. She knew she didn’t mean it, and yet she continued to come off as cold and unfeeling in these situations. Nikita was about to slam her head into the door when someone suddenly cleared their throat beside her.

“Keep it up and you’re going to put Minjae Hyung into an early grave.”

Craning her neck, she cut her eyes at the shaggy-haired individual - his shit-eating grin never failing to irritate her.

“Shut-up, Taegi-ah,” she snipped, walking past him. Predictably, he followed but Nikita ignored him, focusing her attention on the warehouse.

“Aw, don’t be like that, Nikki-ah,” he whined at her back.

She rolled her eyes. Nikita hated that nickname and he knew it. She also knew that he didn’t care that she hated it.

Because that was the kind of person Yoon Taegi was.

A pain in her goddamn ass.

But she couldn’t hold it against him. Because he was the one who helped her break the chains the world decided to put on her the day she was born. Without him, she knew she would still be living the life of a woefully ignorant aristocrat - blind to the truth of society’s agenda. Nikita lived in a castle made of glass and didn’t understand her purpose outside of being a breeding agent for some future husband she would never be able to relate to.

When the day came for her to be matched with her significant other, Nikita was ready to accept that lot in her life. She was prepared to walk down the path that she was groomed for. What reason did she have to believe otherwise; to be aware that there was something else beyond the veil?

The truth wasn’t known to her until she saw a couple being arrested on the streets - cuffed and pulled away from each other. They screamed until their throats were raw, and then continued yelling for each other. They managed to share one final kiss until each were thrown into separate police cars and driven away to be incarcerated.

Their fates were declared on international television.

Taegi was the man she’d seen carted away and three months later, he broke out of prison. As punishment, the woman he loved was put to death. It was their attempt to shatter his spirit, to break him.

They failed.

Sighing, she looked at Taegi’s smug expression and couldn’t help marveling at how far they’d come. A loaf of bread, cheese and meat was all it took to barter for the truth. Taegi gave it to her and Nikita knew she could never go back to her life of privilege. Not if there were people she could help in the process. It didn’t take her long to find herself pulled into Rebel circles - all of them graciously accepting her into their fold.

hree years passed since then and Nikita didn’t regret leaving her family or her “duty” behind. She was free and she was fighting for a cause that meant something. Even if she’d never experienced it for herself.

Love.

Sliding the metal door aside, Nikita stepped into the warehouse. The smell of gunpowder and kerosene instantly filled her nostrils - causing her eyes to water slightly. She quickly wiped at them and sniffed, fishing through a crate on a nearby table. Her hands stilled momentarily as she felt Taegi’s palms slip over her shoulders. He squeezed them gently and she sighed, hanging her head a measure as her eyes stared into the box of homemade pipe bombs and hand grenades.

“Sometimes I worry that the fighting is never going to end,” Nikita said softly.

Taegi rubbed her shoulders in a comforting motion before moving away from her to lean against the table. He folded his arms across his chest, his face lifting to the ceiling. “It’ll stop one day. We just have to stand strong and in solidarity.”

Nikita shrugged, pulling out a few pipe bombs. “I just hope we’re around long enough to see it.”

She checked the fuses, gauging their length, before placing them back in the box. She set one hand grenade out, flicking a finger over the pull pin. After making sure that it was secure, she dropped it into her messenger bag and moved to the next crate. It contained knives of varying shapes and sizes. She opted for a switchblade of decent length, slipping it into her back pocket.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Pulling it out, she scanned the message on her screen. It was from Minjae, as expected. He was sending her on another assignment. There was another potential ally they could have on their side versus running amok on the streets.

Turning to move to another table, she felt Taegi’s hand grasping at her arm. She looked at him and saw the worry lines etched across his forehead. Nikita couldn’t help but smile at him.

“You just got back and you’re already prepping to head out again.” He frowned. “You’re like a machine, woman.”

“Can’t help it,” she said, chuckling slightly, “I’m not one to sit around and do nothing.”

“It’s not about doing nothing. It’s about resting. You’ve been gone for three days.” Taegi sighed, releasing his hold on her. “Hyung can’t pass this off to someone else?”

“Nope.” Nikita shook her head. “Recruitment’s my main gig. You know this. Besides…” She paused, meeting Taegi’s gaze, her own expression softening a bit. “...if we don’t have more people on our side, what good is any of this? It’s never going to stop until every last one of us are either dead or re-educated. Numbers mean everything.”

Looking back at the phone, she opened the file Minjae sent her. It was the most current dossier on a person willingly living off the grid. They had been for some time now.

She recognized his picture immediately. He was the guy she’d run into earlier that day. The same guy she punched in the gut for teasing her when she was in the process of playing “courier” for their group.

Nikita couldn’t help the bark of laughter that escaped her. Taegi looked at her curiously but she shook her head, slipping her phone back into her pocket. This was going to be interesting. Maybe he’d hear her out despite the terrible first impression she’d given.

My job just got a little bit harder. Great.

~ j.j. ~

Jungkook lazily sprawled himself out on the largest branch of an old tree near the edge of town. Swiveling a toothpick between his teeth, he looked around at the people who passed below him obliviously. It amused him, in a way, how they could mindlessly continue with their lives. They were like sheep to the slaughter, unaware of the truth of things.

Then again, he didn’t really know what the “truth” was himself.

All that mattered to him was no longer having a label stamped on his body as though it were a badge of shame. Society deemed that he was destined to be poor. Society claimed that his ideal match would be someone of their choosing. Society was right and the average person didn’t need to question this.

Well, society could go eat a bag of dicks.

Again, his phone buzzed. He picked it up from where he had it laying on his chest to stare at it - the screen illuminating his face in the shadows. It was another job forwarded by his employer. Sighing, he opened up the dossier of the person he was sent to help this time. When he saw the picture, however, Jungkook sat up so fast that he nearly fell out of the tree.

It was her. The woman who nailed him in the gut without batting an eyelash. The woman whose dark auburn curls and gray eyes failed to vacate his mind.

He was immediately suspicious.

Normally he would forward a job he didn’t want to another Runner. It wasn’t like Jungkook was hurting for money. In fact, he was planning on taking a small vacation soon - taking himself off the grid completely for a few weeks before coming back. But his curiosity was a damning thing and he didn’t mind being damned if it meant knowing who this woman was.

Nikita Meyers. 25. Former Blue Blood. Currently wanted by authorities due to her association with various Rebel factions throughout the world.

Blinking, he read through the short blurb again to make sure that he wasn’t misinterpreting anything. But what was there to misinterpret? This woman had it all and threw everything away to be a fugitive? Like him? He didn’t get it. Wasn’t the high life a life of pleasure and carefree days?

Why would she ever want to toss it away for the gritty life?

Jungkook frowned, thinking back on the life he left behind. He refused to conform to society’s whims and ran away from home when it was time for him to have his partner chosen through The Lottery Bill. He didn’t know what love was and he wasn’t sure if he wanted any part of it if the government was hell-bent on minimizing it throughout the globe. Jungkook could admit that he did stupid things when he was emotionally unstable, hence why he was living the life he currently was in the first place. But he also wasn’t too keen on the idea of bending to the whims of others.

Even so…

Sliding his thumb over the screen, he dialed the number his contact provided for him. It rang three times before someone answered. Her voice filled his ears and he leaned his back against the trunk of the tree as he listened.

“Jungkook-ssi?”

He smirked. “Oh, are we using polite words now?”

He heard a sigh from the other line. “I won’t apologize for what I did. I had my reasons.”

“Sure you did.” His tone dripped of sarcasm, but Jungkook felt his smile growing wider. “It’s alright. I forgive you anyway.”

“You’re so gracious. So, are you gonna help me or are you gonna pass me off so I’m someone else’s problem?”

His lips formed into a small ‘O’ while he scratched the side of his nose. “Is that normal for you?”

Nikita scoffed. “I don’t make it a habit to become a problem for anyone in the first place.”

“That’s a shame,” he replied while shifting his position to stand on the tree branch, “it’s fun to be problematic.”

“I’m sure you’d know that.”

“Of course. That's why I said it.”

“Are you going to help me or not?”

Jungkook was going to help her. He’d made that decision the minute he saw her picture on his phone as the next job he was supposed to take. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to have fun with her about it.

“Well, you’re in luck. I happen to have some free time slotted in my schedule.”

“Good. Now come down from that tree and meet me face-to-face.”

His smile fell from his face and he sat up again, looking around in every direction. He quickly craned his neck down and saw she was standing below the tree he was currently perched in. For a long moment, the two of them just stared at each other - each of them holding their phones to their faces; listening to the other person breathing.

Then he saw her smile up at him. It was a smile that clearly said that she knew more than he did; that she’d gotten the best of him. A smile full of secrets, daring someone to try to discover them.

It was a smile that made his heart twist sharply in his chest.

Hanging up the phone, he slid it into the inner pocket of his leather jacket. Without batting an eyelash, Jungkook effortlessly hopped off the tree branch, landing with an unnecessary flourish in front of her. Nikita slid her phone into her pocket as he slid his palms over the thighs of his jeans.

Again, neither said anything. They just took in each other’s presence.

Now that he got a better look at her, Jungkook was at least half a head taller than her. The strap to a dark gray messenger bag was pressed across her chest at an angle, enhancing the swell of her bosom. Other than that, there was nothing else about her that would elicit inappropriate thoughts. No skin showed outside of her bare neck, face, and thin wrists peeking out from the sleeves of her dark green field jacket. She wore charcoal gray cargo pants stuffed into a pair of shin length combat boots. A black newsboy hat adorned the top of her head this time.

“So,” Jungkook said, finally breaking the silence, “where am I escorting the lovely lady?”

“We’re too exposed here.” Nikita moved past him and he pivoted on his heels to follow after her.

They were heading back into the city.

Just as he was about to suggest they could go somewhere a little more private to chat, she hopped onto a nearby dumpster and scaled up the fire escape as easily as snapping her fingers. Jungkook slowly arched his neck, watching her fling herself up one iron landing until her body swung in a half arc to allow her the reach she needed to grasp onto the edge of the building’s rooftop. Her booted feet scraped over the brick, crumbling small bits to the ground until she disappeared over the edge.

“Well, I’ll be goddamned,” he mumbled, his smile returning. This woman was just full of surprises.

“Are you comin’ or not?” she called down to him.

Not like he needed to be asked twice. Jungkook made a game of it, determined to scale the building in half the amount of time she had. Once he reached the top, he pulled himself over the edge in time to see her running at full speed across the building.

“Hey!” he shouted after her, his own legs eating at the ground in hot pursuit, “Wait a minute!”

But just as he was starting to close the distance, Nikita jumped from the building and curled her body inward. Jungkook was almost to the edge and was preparing his own dismount when he saw her successfully clear the gap. She grabbed onto one of the metal pipes and swung herself into an open window. Jungkook didn’t have a chance to relish in the adrenaline pumping through his veins, his eyes memorizing her movement patterns so he could follow the trail she was leaving for him.

Dust filled his nostrils, causing him to cough from the onslaught to his senses. The room smelled of old wood and mold. The building had long since been abandoned and there was clearly no interest in changing its state of disrepair. The boards creaked under each step that was taken and Jungkook mentally worried if the floor would crack and collapse right beneath him.

A beam of bright light blinded him and he hissed, moving his forearm to cover his eyes.

“Yo, what’s the deal?!”

His words sounded snappish, which hadn’t been his intention, but what did anyone expect when suddenly rendered unable to see?

“Sorry,” Nikita said, lowering the light to give him a chance to adjust to the darkness, “I wanted to make sure you were right behind me.”

Jungkook rubbed his fists into his eyes gingerly, shaking his head to blink the golden spots away from his vision. “It’s fine.”

She gestured with the flashlight toward the stairs. “Follow me. And watch your step.”

Everything in the building seemed ancient and forgotten. Jungkook swore he heard it groan in response to their presence there. It gave him an eerie sort of vibe that he wasn’t sure he wanted to really wrap his head around.

Once they reached the ground floor, Nikita disappeared through a door to the right. It looked like an office building of some kind now that he got a better look at it. He could hear her roughly pulling at drawers from what he assumed were old metal filing cabinets. Jungkook took a lean against the door frame, folding his arms across his chest as more dust flew in the air from Nikita’s manic investigation methods.

“Need any help?”

She slammed a drawer closed and yanked at another one, fingers dancing over the folders. “I’m good.”

He shrugged, even though he knew she couldn’t see it. “So what is this place?”

“Used to be a Public Records office until everything became digitized and moved to the various data hubs all over the globe.”

“And now?”

Nikita pulled out a folder and sifted through the papers inside. “Now it’s a place for squatters and a go-between for Rebel units.”

Jungkook hummed in understanding. But something puzzled him.

“So why are we here?”

Turning to face him, she waved the envelope at him. “Gathering intel for another client.”

“Wait.” He stepped inside the room. “This isn’t an escort job, but a recon mission?”

Nikita grinned, shutting the drawer closed with her hip. “Yup.”

He frowned. “Then why was I hired for this? You do know that I’m a Runner, right?”

“I know.” She stuffed the envelope into her bag, using the beam of her flashlight to rifle through whatever contents were also inside. “I know exactly who you are, Jeon Jungkook.”

Jungkook didn’t know why, but he didn’t like what she was insinuating with those words.

Nikita pulled something else from her bag, but it was too dark for him to see. Using her other hand to secure the bag’s clasp, she stepped toward the window and slid it open. Jungkook watched her poking her head out, presumably to see if anyone else was coming. It was dark and most people had normal work schedules so there wasn’t a chance for anyone to be out after midnight.

Well, except for them.

“It’s a waste.”

“What?” Jungkook slightly tilted his head, confused. “What is?”

“You left everything behind the same time I did, but all you’ve done is float through life without a care in the world.” She glanced at him from over her shoulder. “It’s a waste.”

Rolling his eyes, he frowned. “What the hell do you know?”

He didn’t appreciate her judgmental attitude toward him. It wasn’t like she knew him. It wasn’t like she understood what he’d gone through up until that point. Living off the grid wasn’t easy and it wasn’t for everyone. Sure, he could have gone back home and ponied up. He could have turned to those fighting against society’s rules and regulations, seeing refuge from a dying world. But he wasn’t about to let himself become dependent on anyone. Being dependent on others equated to marginalized freedom and Jungkook didn’t want that either.

Even if it he had to remain alone to maintain it.

“I know you’re a Runner,” she said, flashing a shit-eating grin at him, “so I suggest you do what you’re good at. Running.”

Jungkook wasn’t sure what she was getting at. But before he could question her further, something fell to the ground. It rolled across the floor and into the sliver of light that leaked in through the window from the streetlamp outside.

It was a hand grenade.

“ARE YOU CRAZY?!” Jungkook barely heard his own voice through the panic cadence of his heartbeat.

Nikita reached out to grab his hand, pulling him toward her. “RUN!”

They both tumbled out the window, rolling onto the grass in a tangle of limbs. They dislodged themselves from each other, frantically scrambling to their feet as they hurried to put as much distance between them and the building as possible. The heat from the explosion pressed against Jungkook’s back, forcing his body to lurch forward. Something cut the side of his face and he grunted as his shoulder collided with the concrete. He thought he heard someone calling him, but it was hard to make out from the soft ringing in his ears and the alarms going off.

“Shit,” he muttered as he sat up on all fours, shaking his head back and forth to chase away his rattled nerves.

Someone grabbed roughly at his jacket, yanking him up to his feet. His face was inches from Nikita’s, her stormy eyes reflecting the fire and smoke eating away at the building behind him.

“Come on,” she said, her hand reaching out to grasp his, “we have to go!”

He didn’t have time to yell at her. He simply followed her direction. Besides, he knew better than anyone that he couldn’t just walk away from this. Jungkook was an accomplice - willingness be damned.

He was a Rebel now.

~ n.m. ~

She’d be lying if she hadn’t planned it out that way. Nikita never had any intention of outright asking Jungkook if he would join their cause. Instead, she chose to be a dirty bitch about it - forcing his hand and leaving him no other option but to stand at their side. The Rebels weren’t necessarily losing, but they weren’t winning, either. The more skilled people they had on their side, people like Jungkook, the more likely they would win against society’s preconceived notion of what “success” and “happiness” was.

Nikita did it because she knew that they had to have him. That she had to have him. She didn’t feel guilty about taking him away from the life he’d chosen for himself.

A month later, however, the guilt started rearing its ugly little head. Usually in the dead of night; when the urge to smoke overtook her. She puffed on a cigarette, her thoughts swirling around in her head like a busted washing machine in desperate need of repair. Minjae told her that she didn’t need to tell him the truth about that day; what her intention was. She normally never questioned Minjae or his motives.

Now? Another month passed. She wasn’t so sure anymore..

A strong gust of wind pushed up against her body, causing her to take a half a step forward. The wind was always powerful the higher a person was. But the rooftop of their hideout was the only place she could find any solace. More and more people were joining their cause, but more people meant less space. Maybe it was the former high-privileged snob in her, but she liked being able to have a little breathing room in her life.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were here,” a voice said from behind her.

She turned to glance over her shoulder, seeing that it was Jungkook. Her brows furrowed, a soft ache building at the center of her chest. But she didn’t say anything. He took a step back, his hand reaching behind him so he could push the door back open.

Nikita exhaled a thin stream of smoke, tapping the ash off the side of the building. “Stay if you want.” She shifted her gaze back to look at the twilight sky. “You don’t have to leave.”

The door closed, but the sound of feet shuffling closer toward her caused her to release a silent breath of relief. She didn’t want the awkward feeling to continue between them, and in the last month Jungkook proved himself useful. He never demanded to leave, because the people around him wanted him to stay. It made Nikita wonder if he’d never felt a sense of community before now; if he’d always been alone.

She was decent enough not to ask.

“No assignments. That’s rare.” He said it so easily, like he’d been a Rebel for years.

Shrugging, she lifted the cigarette to her lips. “Can’t be busy all the time. Batteries need charging and all that shit.”

He chuckled, sidling up beside her but giving her at least three feet of space. Nikita cast him a sidelong glance, watching him lean against the railing with his forearms.

“Yeah, I guess.”

Jungkook reached into his pocket and pulled out a toothpick. She raised a brow, unable to force back the smirk forming on her face. It was a habit she’d never understand, but it strangely suited him. She shook her head as he clamped his teeth over the twig, making it swivel back and forth with his tongue.

“What about you?”

He shook his head. “Nah. I’m heading out in two days.”

Nikita wouldn’t ask him where. It was better if she didn’t know. The less she knew, the less likely Jungkook would be compromised should something happen while he was away.

For a while, neither of them said anything. She finished her smoke, tossing the cigarette butt off the edge. Jungkook was focused on the starry night sky, so she knew he didn’t notice her looking at him. His hair shifted in back and forth motions from another gust of wind. He looked so lost in thought, yet completely relaxed.

Anything could happen between now and tomorrow. Jungkook could turn his back on them and possibly reveal everything he’d learned to the authorities. Or he could just get captured or killed. There were no guarantees in the world they were both fighting against and fighting for.

“I’m sorry,” Nikita said, surprised at herself with how suddenly the words came tumbling out.

“Huh?” Jungkook straightened up to his full height, flashing her a confused look. “What for?”

“I put us in that situation back then so that you’d have no choice but to come with us.”

He appeared to not understand what she was getting at. Was he really so gullible? Or was he just that innocent? How had the world not broken him?!

Nikita closed her eyes tightly, biting her lower lip that was already beginning to tremble. “I purposefully set you up. I forced you to become a Rebel.”

She couldn’t see him, much to her relief. But the sound of her heart hammering roughly against her ribs drowned out the sounds of the city. If he was saying anything at that moment, Nikita was confident she wouldn’t have heard him.

“I know.”

Those two words pierced through her loudly pounding heartbeat. Opening her eyes wide, she jerked her head to face him. He was closer to her now, but still wearing that gentle expression. The one of someone who understood something that she hadn’t been able to glean. The kind of expression that told volumes about a person’s life.

About the pain they were forced to endure.

“I know you did. And that’s okay.”

She blinked up at him, gobsmacked by his words. “Wh-What?”

How could he say that it was okay? What part of what she said was okay? As far as Nikita was concerned, none of this was okay!

“Because it was only after being here, I realized why you did. To me, that’s all that matters.”

Nikita’s brows furrowed in disbelief. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. It was like she’d lost the ability to speak or even formulate coherent phrases.

He continued.

“I’m a Runner. You said it yourself, running is what I’m good at. People only ever needed me to run for them. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

She watched him take a step toward her.

~ j.j. ~

Nikita looked like a deer caught in headlights.

Jungkook felt a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach; like something was fluttering inside of it. He wondered if he looked the same. If he had that same expression on his own face. Jungkook hoped he didn’t, but he felt weirdly calm. He couldn’t quite place why, other than he believed everything he was saying at that moment.

And he believed that Nikita would hear him; truly hear him.

Because for damn near two months, Jungkook couldn’t get Nikita out of his mind.

“My family didn’t care about me running away from my responsibilities. If they did, they would be looking for me now.”

He took another step forward, his eyes flicking downward to see if Nikita was going to take a step back. She didn’t, and that strange feeling in his stomach intensified.

“My two siblings are making up for my shortcomings. They’re happy and so I kept running. Here. There. Everywhere. It never mattered where I was or how long I was gone. Because running is what I do.”

Nikita looked like she was really listening to him. He knew it because of how focused her eyes were; shaking.

“J-Jungkook,” she stammered.

He knew he should take a step back. Reassess things and think about just what the hell was tumbling from his mouth. It wasn’t like he’d planned this and he hadn’t expected for her to apologize for making him a sucker. One day was all he needed to figure it out. After the initial internal battle he had with himself died down, Jungkook was planning to get the hell out of that place. He would play nice and then bounce. Simple as that.

But one day turned into one week. Then two. Then three.

Until a month passed by.

He realized it hadn’t bothered him as much as he initially thought. Because in that short amount of time, he saw Nikita in ways that he was sure she didn’t realize was being showcased. Jungkook discovered every nuance about her as their paths crossed every single day. From the way she preferred hats with bills than beanies, to how she would scratch at the bridge of her nose when she was annoyed. She preferred dogs over cats, but had a special kind of love for horses. She liked dark liquors and she hated beer. Nikita hated mornings, but she would always get up early to see the sunrise before going back to sleep.

And she was one helluva free runner.

Taking one more step forward, there was now less than a foot of space between Nikita and him. Again, he looked down to see if she would step back. And again, she didn’t.

“For the first time in a while, no one wants me running anymore. And when I have to run, I know I have a place to run back to. Because there are people waiting for me.”

He reached out to grasp her wrists, feeling her pulse jumping with life beneath his palms. For a split second, he suddenly felt self-conscious that his hands might be cold, clammy, or all of the above. But Jungkook selfishly refused to let go. He would apologize later for it if she shoved him aside.

Or off the building.

He waited - the soft clouds of breath meeting hers as she breathed out in sync with him. Nikita didn’t move or was thinking about what to do at that moment. Jungkook knew he needed to hurry and say what was churning inside of him.

What he’d been wanting to say for almost a week now.

“Because people like you are waiting for me.”

His hands moved from her wrists, slowly gliding up her arms until his palms slid over the delicate curve of her shoulders. Jungkook even knew how strong she was under all the bulky clothes she wore. It was how people kept underestimating her. It was how she survived.

But even under that strength was a gentle and compassionate woman. A woman who cared about the people around her. A woman who decidedly left her comfortable entitlement to help anyone suffering under the injustice of the world’s system. A woman who cried in mourning for those who could not be with the ones they loved.

Jungkook’s hands cupped her neck, using his thumbs to stroke over Nikita’s jawline. He gently pressed them to her chin, lifting her face to his. He could see the tears forming in her eyes and he paused, feeling his own hands trembling. Could he afford to hesitate? Could he really let this moment pass by, only to fade away into the darkness where it would never return to see the light of day?

He had to keep trusting her. Trust that she would keep listening.

“Jungkook, what are you--?”

“I love you.”

Jungkook felt like his insides were going to fall straight out of him. He said it. His nerves felt liquefied, but he said it.

“W-What?”

“I love you, Nikita.”

Not wanting her to push him away, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. He felt her gasp in his mouth and he waited for her to retaliate. To kick and scream and threaten to toss him over the side to his death. He would have deserved it. His death would be justified.

But Nikita didn’t shove him to the side. No. And he lifted his lips from hers when he felt her hands cupping his elbows. What tears were in her eyes spilled down her cheeks. Jungkook saw her brows furrow, but there was a watery smile now on her face.

And then he kissed her again, harder. His hands left her face so he could wrap his arms around her, fully pulling her up against him. He needed her close. Closer than he’d ever been able to get to her. The need was terrible and he didn’t want to chase it away. He sucked in air through his nose, drinking in the subtle smell of her shampoo. Nipping and tugging at her lips between his teeth and tongue, he relished the soft taste of ash from the cigarette she smoked earlier. But there was a hint of peppermint. Nikita always ate a peppermint before smoking because she despised the taste.

Jungkook would continue his mission of getting her to quit.

They parted the kiss long enough to get air. He could just barely see her through the clouds of their breaths. Even in the dark, her eyes seemed to glow. He loved how Nikita always looked like she could see right through him.

“I fell in love with you. I don’t know how. I don’t know why.” He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers as their noses touched. “I just did. I just do.”

Turning to bury his nose into the curve of Nikita’s neck, he smiled against her skin.

“It’s okay if you don’t right now. We have as much time as we need to figure it out. Until then, just let me keep loving you as you are now. As I am now.”

Her body shook with how roughly she was nodding her head. Jungkook pressed his fingers against the back of her neck as he held her aloft. And for awhile, that’s all they did. Hugged each other. He could feel how hard their hearts were hammering against each other. All the anxiety and hesitation felt like it was bleeding out of him.

Nikita laughed a little. “Damn,” she whispered.

Jungkook smirked. “What?”

“Guess this means I love you too.”

They shared a laugh. He leaned forward to pull her into a hug. Jungkook appreciated how good it felt to know her arms were around him. It may have been a selfish beginning, but it wouldn’t be a selfish end.

He knew things would get harder from now on. But that was okay. Because the hole in his heart was full.

Because he loved this woman in his arms.

42 notes · View notes

burnt-tomato · 5 years ago

Note

herro!! can you write hcs for when noya and tendou gets jealous? like what would they be like? I feel like noya would rolling thunder someone’s ass HAHAH

♤: aye thanks for the ask!! Got braindead for a sec and couldn’t answer lmao. Ayt here are your headcannons. Also idk if you meant jealous as if talking to another mAn or jealous of your traits or who you are, so imma do both

»»--------------------------------------------------►

Nishinoya Yuu

If I were you I wouldn’t make this guy jealous lol

He’s probably jealous of your height let’s face it

Rolling thunder his ass what the hEcC lmao imma try to make that work

Jealous because of you talking to another guy

Noya is really protective of you bc he loves you a lot and is afraid to lose you and probably bc you’re the first and only to return his feelings

Made sure that everyone in the school class knew about your relationship. Yes even the team.

When a guy talks to you, let it be classmates, a friend or your brother bc why the hell not right? He will gLARE at them

Let’s say the 2 of you are in the same class. You were paired with a random guy for a partner project, and this rose a huge red flag for Noya

During class you and let’s name the random guy A, A had to sit next to eachother bc teacher's rules suck. You were wAy to0 cl0se to eachother, according to Noya's rules and regulations. More glaring yay.

You and A seem very… mmmmm friendly lol and Noya is n0t enjoying this

♤: aye sorry for cutting this but ya think Noya likes his girlfriend, if he gets one, more than Asahi and Kiyoko? My AsaNoya heart

Even when the project ended, you and A wanted to get to know eachother and be friends for plot and I’m pretty sure Noya is about to rolling thunder his ass

♤: not sure if noya is the threatening kind tho

Smashes down your door violently pulls you outside of class and to a corner ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°). "Y/n... You better not tell me that you're planning to leave me for someone else.." "Yuu, why the hell would I do that? I only wanted to be friends with him because he's actually nice." "But I- sorry y/n. I'm just afraid of losing you." *hug hug cUdDlE hug because I can't describe scenarios like this lol*

Jealous because of someone flirting with you

There was this one particular guy who kept on looking at you and when you'd look back, he'd smile. Noya noticed this and let it slide for a few times, but that didn't last long. He soon felt itchy and bothered that someone's looking at you with a smile all the time.

He isn't quiet about it either. Everyday after class the guy staring at you (let's name him B) would wave his hand at you and say stuff like "see you tomorrow y/n" or when you and Noya arrive together at class he's be all "good morning y/n! Beautiful as ever!" And hoo boy Noya isn't happy. He would always say "Fuck off, you bastard. She's taken." And B will just belp at both of you.

Noya always tried to tackle the guy, but you always stopped him from doing so. Even if he wants to kill the guy or shout at him so bad, you keep reminding him to control his emotions. Idk if I were the girl i would offer Noya to double team B lol.

But hoo boy he cannot do that. B tool it to the next level and Noya couldn't keep it all in anymore.

It happened during a school day. Classes just ended and Noya told you to go on ahead and he'll just catch up, but just as you got out the door, B gripped you by the arm and pulled you by the door.

*peptalking my self* Ok Vy you can do this. You just have to make it look like B did a smooth move there even if you're bad with dialogues

"Hey hey y/n, you've been avoiding me for a long time now, and it's getting on my nerves." He whispers unto your ear. Noya hurry tf up your bae be in trouble. He places his thumb and index finger on your chin lifting it up and you can smell what he ate this morning

Ok Vy you can do this. "Look, I don't know if you're ignoring me because of that tiny guy, but I'll tell you now that he isn't good for you and you're too good for someone like him. You deserve someone better. Yknow, some like... me?" He smirks. You are hella disgusted

Who is this Bimbo trashtalking Noya. "So, y/n, could you be kind enough to give me your number and address~`>~~<~•||•《•¤○《•" wow I can't do this.

For a split second, you felt a hand travel to your back collar pulling to aside, revealing Noya, who was glaring daggers at B, while B was still smirking

"Hey hey now junior student, I was talking to y/n here, and you just disturbed our conversation." "Did I really? Oh sorry, but can I inform you that she's taken, nd if you want to leave school alive, you better step away now and never talk to her again." Noya says, trying his hardest to keep his composure and not lose control

"Geez fine already. You don't have to throw a fit about it. She wasn t worth my time anyways." He says walking away waving his right hand. "What did that bastard say about yo-?" You pulled Noya back. "It's fine now. He's gone." Noya was still frustrated, and you tried to cool him off.

*insert hugs and other stuff bc I'm uncomfortable writing those lolllll* you both go to the gym, and Noya forgot about what he was mad about as soon as he was playing and saw Kiyoko

Bonus

You're jealous of Kiyoko and Asahi bc even if Noya is dating you now, he still goes crazy over Kiyoko and hangs out around Asahi all the time lol

Tendou Satori

This is definitely someone I won't get jealous

Very underrated boy I love him

Jealous because of you talking to another guy

The time this happened was when you 2 were at the bookstore for the weekly jump. He left you for a while to look for the book while you hung around the novel books that you're probably not interested in

You saw a book that you got interested in, but was too high bc u short. You struggled reaching it, then goes a guy (I'll name him C). He reached the book for you and you bowed to thank him.

"Oh [ insert book title ]? You read that?" He asks. "Not really, it just looked interesting." You said. You both started chatting about that book, and then switched to your hobbies and other stuff.

Then Tendou comes. He wraps his lanky arm around you, forcing you to move back. And you're literally in a book section, so it's probably cramped. He looks at the guy, well, looking d0wn bc he t0l as hEcC.

"Eehh? So you're the guy I heard talking to y/n.. You better not be planning things to do to her, if you are you better prepare to go through me." The guy apologizesand waves you goodbye

"Satori, we were just talking about stuff we had similarities on.. He wasn't hitting on me." You say. "Oh? I guess my guess blocking only works on volleyball and not outside huh.. well anyway have you seen this week's jump? It's really interesting and has this-" starts rambling about the weekly jump. You were surprised yet used to this. Him being mad at first, then quickly turns back to normal when talking to you.

Jealous because of someone flirting with you

Mm m m m m m mm m mmm

̿'̿'\̵͇̿̿\З=( ͠° ͟ʖ ͡°)=Ε/̵͇̿̿/'̿̿ ̿ ̿ ̿ ̿ ̿

I just like making use of the fact he loves reading the weekly jump and is in the bookstore whenever he isn't playing volleyball

You were both at the mall to shop for something ᕕ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)ᕗ and you both stopped for a bit in the bookstore. You hung out by the entrance while Tendou went inside bc he takes a hell lot of time lol.

You were minding your own business playing on your phone when this random guy walked up to you and pressed a finger on your phone, lowering it (let's name the guy D( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

"Hey hey beautiful~~~□•□•□•□□•□ [♤: I'm getting the big cringe lol]. Would you mind me asking for your number?" He asks with a smirk. You didn't know how to response or how to react during that time so you stood frozen, tilting your head to your left. You shook your head, signaling a 'no', but the guy insisted. He kept whispering (ง ͡ʘ ͜ʖ ͡ʘ)ง and that made you really uncomfortable [♤: ew.]

You felt the door you had your hand on move away, then the next thing you knew, a tall lanky guy stood next to You, keeping his line of vision on D.

They started arguing, D protesting that you 2 were just having a friendly conversation. "Look, from inside, it was obvious that you were flirting with MY y/n. She shook her head multiple times and it was given that she was uncomfortable. So if you KINDLY would move away from her and never come back, that would really be appreciative." He says

You heard D make a 'tch' sound and walked away with a frustrated expression.

"You didn't really know that he was flirting huh? If it was obvious you could be come sooner." "Sorry the last time I butted in with your conversation with a guy I was mistaken, so I decided to make sure first." He said with a smile scratching the back of his head.

You 2 were about to leave when the shop owner said "Sir you will have to pay for that." Tendou was about to pay when he saw what happened. He laughed a little and went back inside apologizing.

»»--------------------------------------------------►

♤: I'm getting more inactive lmao But I'm still answering asks. Feel free to send in reqs for headcannons, scenarios and oneshots. The askbox is always open lol ̿'̿'\̵͇̿̿\З=( ͠° ͟ʖ ͡°)=Ε/̵͇̿̿/'̿̿ ̿ ̿ ̿ ̿ ̿

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