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#WHICH IN THE PROCESS PROVES THE VERY HUMANITY HE BELIEVES HIMSELF TO BE INCAPABLE OF POSSESSING!!!!!!

liannelara-dracula · 11 months

Note

Hello! Lately I've been thinking so much about academic rivals to lovers scenarios with Reiji but I couldn't find anything similar to that to read :(

So, if you're comfortable with that, can I request some hcs for this trope?

Hi Love,

Oh, yes! This is a nice idea. It's a shame they haven't made it, in that case, leave it to me :). I've literally been wanting to do this so I'm happy you asked this!

-Liannelara

Academic rivals to lovers scenarios w Reiji

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Prompt

Requests are open

Rules

Warning:

*certain words have been censored for Tumblr guidelines.

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📘I think this girl was raised to believe that she had to succeed more than anyone and so she felt pressure from her parents who probably expected a lot from her so when she met Reiji, she met her match.

📘And she wanted to prove to her parents that she was better which was becoming difficult considering Reiji didn’t make mistakes.

📘So she was working harder and harder to be the top student.

📘Reiji had always been confident with himself and he never thought he'd have to worry about something like this.

📘He thought that his rival was only Ruki.

📘Which he was fine with because Reiji would never back down from succeeding in academics and showing off his skills.

📘However, Reiji never thought about having a female rival

📘I mean realistically speaking, he's sexist and will believe that a woman couldn't possibly surpass him in anything unless it was something feminine.

📘So it's a shock to his system in a way but he is more so focused on the fact that he is being challenged by not only a human but a girl.

📘He will not stand for it, he must be above all else, especially a woman.

📘After all he’s Reiji, how could he miss something or not do something better than someone else?

📘I think it all started when she transferred to his school.

📘Teachers loved her, people tried to befriend her, and she joined the student council, which Reiji is not a part of.

📘She was doing so much in so little time and so she was admired.

📘Most of all she was very smart, especially with complex subjects such as math and science.

📘And she had some chemistry skills so this totally triggered him.

📘At first he thought nothing of it but the more she succeed he found himself being challenged and it was the same for her.

📘She’d miss a point and Reiji would get it or they were both right and it was a tie.

📘It got so bad that they would indirectly insult and get salty with each other and maybe even cheat a little.

📘In fact there were times when you two would argue with the teachers about which one of you had more precise answers.

📘And it would be a constant battle so much that teachers couldn’t even put up with it.

📘If the teacher tried to partner you two up in a lab it is nothing but constant bickering about how he thinks you burned the magnesium for too long or how you think he timed it wrong.

📘You both even argue about the process the whole time of how it should be done because you two have biased preferences.

📘“You’re always supposed to sand it down then roll it before burning it.” You’d point out.

📘“Not in this particular experiment.” He’d state.

📘“That’s your opinion, I feel that when I set the heat up first I get less percent error.” You’d argue.

📘“Perhaps it’s because of your inexperience.” Reiji would claim.

📘In P.E. you run for track and he feels the need to perform better than you there too. Even though you both probably hate P.E.

📘But because of his vamp speed and higher stamina, you can’t beat him. So in your case, you’d grow annoyed because he was better at it than you.

📘In fact he probably once stopped you during track just to taunt you, “it seems you do not perform as well as you’d like to on the field. How embarrassing it must be, though given your calves are short you are incapable of keeping up with someone taller. Did you not grow properly?”

📘Hearing this a pout grew on your lips which he loved seeing, “For your information height isn’t the only thing that contributes to someone’s speed. Of course, what would you know, you spent most of your childhood having growth spurts instead of knowledge expansion.”

📘If you were assigned a class presentation, he likes to be a dick and ask you complicated questions that may even reach out of the presentation's scope just to piss you off since they're complicated in nature.

📘“If you are not feel versed on the topic, perhaps you should inform yourself of it.” He’d answer smugly as your eye twitched at this before forcing a smile.

📘“Perhaps I will and then maybe you have to put your focus on Latin more.” You remarked, seeing he wasn’t as well versed in the language as you were.

📘You both ended up having a tie with Reiji at the science fair and this is where Reiji was shocked that his project and yours tied.

📘You had spent some many weeks talking smack to each other about your projects that even Ruki had to step in to make you both stop.

📘Although the judges had to come to a conclusion and so you probably one because your project was just more out of the box than Reiji’s. So you win the science fair and this is where Rei starts to be a bit nicer to her. After she wins, he probably goes over and shakes her hand, saying she won fair and square.

📘Rei's honestly not himself after this point because for her to beat him, he thinks she's something and definitely someone he's interested in.

📘This was really surprising to you, and he purposely made sure that you noticed this. Although Reiji was smart enough to know you’d be to taken back to say anything. So you instead stayed a little shocked and wouldn’t say anything because it just seemed so off to you.

📘Of course, little did you know that Reiji was intrigued by you now and would only be planning on getting your attention more often. And when possible get you to be shocked and display other facial expressions to which he found amusing.

📘So when he started to pursue, he started to do little things to get your attention, to which you were totally oblivious to.

📘He’d invite you to participate in the school's fair seeing you still hadn’t decided.

📘“As a student council member you should participate, however, if you are in need of company I suppose it cannot be helped.”

📘“Reiji?” You’d question, raising a brow in confusion.

📘“I will accompany you to the school’s festival.” He’d confirm, adjusting his glasses as he looked down at you, “Do you have any objections?”.

📘“Uhh, no. . . its just, well I--I never asked for help.” You’d stumble as you looked at him, a little confused as to why this was happening.

📘“I suppose it can atone for my prior behavior.” He’d reply, turning away to part ways with you, leaving you a little speechless again.

📘He once was able to get a coffee with you during break and talk about academic stuff too.

📘This is where he sensed your troubles and mostly about how nervous you were for one particular exam he mostly found this out by overhearing you with someone and because when he asked about it your heart raced a little faster in panic.

📘So finding the opportunity, Reiji offers to help you.

📘“If you feel uncertain of your knowledge you should be tested about the subject. Three o’clock, the library.” He’d say offering to help.

📘“Oh, no, it’s okay. I’m sure I’ll manage, Reiji.”

📘“Y/n, if I am not mistaken this is not the first time you have declined my offers in helping you. Continuing to do so makes you appear as though you have something to hide.” It’s true, you were avoiding these interactions with him because you didn’t feel right bothering someone.

📘“It’s not that I---well, if you’re alright with studying then I guess I will see you later then.” You’d say figuring it would be harmless.

📘“I will see you soon.” He’d smile, parting ways with you in the hall.

📘Which allows you two to study, it also means he gets to sit close to you in the library or at a table in a secluded area.

📘This is when he gets to adjust your grip on the pencil too and have the excuse to touch your hand and delicate fingers.

📘He also gets to hover over you as he’s pointing out things to you in the textbook.

📘This gives Rei the excuse to even lean in and be extra close to you with his chest brushing against your back and both of his arms on both sides of you blocking you from leaving.

📘And it's taking him everything in him to not steal a kiss from you.

📘He’ll get really close but make sure he doesn’t kiss you because he’s still waiting since it's not time yet.

📘In that study session and in a few other ones you two would exchange conversation about different things and he once got you to smile and giggle at one thing.

📘It was precious to him when you laughed that you covered your smile with your hand gingerly.

📘Studying with you became frequent between you both, even if you were in the library to return or search for a book and he was in the library casually minding his own business he’d find a way to get your attention.

📘He would do this by either clearing his throat and pretending like he doesn’t notice you or by walking by you to get another book and act like he doesn’t notice you until you bump into him.

📘When he gets you to interact more he will become more comfortable as well and try to keep you fascinated with things he knows.

📘He’ll share interesting things with you and this usually happens during study sessions.

📘Rei would show you one of his scientific journals and his discoveries. (and this is his way of flirting lmao)

📘He even shows you flowers and studies he’s done of them so you learn some interesting observations from him sometimes too.

📘“They are pretty, what is this flower called?” You’d ask, still looking at the plant in observation.

📘I know he plans most of his interactions but sometimes he just gets lucky and opens new doors and finds out more interesting things about his rival.

📘Some things of which he deems as “cute” or “worth tolerating”.

📘Like one time you got injured in P.E. and he took you to the nurses' office.

📘Another time you practically tripped and fell on him but he caught you.

📘At a school dance you stepped on his foot and he called you a clumsy dancer.

📘This kinda made you upset and get into a minimal argument.

📘“It is as if you were born with two left feet.” He’d say boldly.

📘You’d scoff as you both still continued to practice, “Do you ever have anything!--” you’d stop mid-sentence as Reiji twirled you around and dipped you, just to have you shut up. “ . . . nice to say.” You’d say shocked and speechless, still being held in the same position, his hair falling into his face his arms still holding your waist.

📘A blush crept onto your cheeks as you tried to get out of his grip, “Reiji, let go of me.”

📘He’d chuckle before letting you go, “It’s fascinating to see the top student turn red.”

📘You’d glare at him, “Excuse me.” You’d say before turning away to leave.

📘But of course, there was no way our bae Rei was going to have it end there.

📘Oh no, it was only the beginning.

📘Even if he isn’t asking you things or exchanging conversation with you, you are still in classes with him and he loves to have his burning gaze on you.

📘So you have constant stares, which you used to not notice. And once you did you grew a little cautious of how you moved or where you’d sit because you could feel he was watching.

📘And let’s just say, it got to the point to which to were nervous about coming to class early since it would mean he’d pick a seat where he could see you.

📘Or sometimes he’d be really bold and sit next to you.

📘Of course you couldn’t fully say this was true as there was no actual proof, because every time you looked his way he either turned away or acted like he wasn’t doing anything. Although you had a gut feeling.

📘Because when you came in early and sat in the front rows he’d side further behind at an angle to which he could get a perfect view of you reading and taking notes.

📘Even if you’re crossing your legs, to which he won’t admit is his weakness.

📘He was amused by watching you, especially because you hardly turned around to look at him. But he knew you were just too nervous to look but also engrossed in your work.

📘Although there were times when he caught you staring and he’d caught you a few times looking back, only for you to look away.

📘Reiji also grew to enjoy how you tried to get out of class as soon as possible, instead of asking the teacher questions so that you wouldn’t have to face him.

📘He loved seeing a girl so calm and collected become all nervous and apprehensive.

📘Any chance there was a project to be done with partners he’d stage it to have the teacher put you both together.

📘Which he’ll probably use his mind control for that.

📘And it’s just getting harder for you to avoid him, he’s bugged you during presentations. Like when you’re explaining he will have questions for you.

📘He’d bump into you in the halls more frequently too and then try to have conversations with you.

📘The study sessions got more personal, sometimes it wasn’t even studying which was very unlike you.

📘I think he asked you out in one of two ways, either he kissed you in the school hallway after asking for your answer to date.

📘Or you two were in the school garden and a flower petal got in your hair and being the gentleman that he is Reiji moved it out of your hair

📘 “You don’t need to--” you’d mumble out as his hand touched your hairline, he took the opportunity to steady your features and tuck a strand behind your ear before putting his palm against your cheek only to lean in forward and crash his lips on yours.

📘He’d pull away a little after, his hand still on your cheek as he admired the way your eyes had fluttered due to being kissed and how they now opened after he pulled away. “Reiji . . .” You’d whisper, unable to make a sentence.

📘“Please consider my offer, Y/n.”

📘Omg this man is so gentle with the woman he loves, I cannot. 😭😭🤧My lil Rei.

📘Once you accepted you two then established things at your own pace, and you came to know more about his playful nature.

📘And his constantly teasing and cruel humor, as well as him calling you dearest or my dear.

📘To know more about what school with him is like, you can see that here.

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˗ˏˋ 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑠 𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑑𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 ˎˊ˗ ©𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟔~Present

#diabolik lovers #anime #diabolik lovers headcanons #anime headcanons #reiji sakamaki #diahell #dialovers #anime requests #sakamaki reiji #diabolik lovers reiji #diabolik lovers hcs #dl hcs

116 notes · View notes

deoffal-mp-adm7000-n-s1-2022 · 2 years

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Thomas Ligotti Notes 5:

Notes on the importance on of Ligotti in the context of my work:

Right, I don’t want to water log this post as these quotes took forever to write and the context they are represented in fair and accurate enough that I shouldn’t need to repeat them or my previous notes too much, after all, this is research by quotation so the quotes with all their context should be able to speak for themselves, the only reason this final post took so long to finalise too is because I got carried away with show prep and I have honestly lost interest in doing research at this point considering I feel I am just repeating myself all the time and I just want to focus on the professional and exhibitionist aspects of this project, given that’s where I have been putting the most effort throughout this project, it’s not that I don’t like my research, it’s more that I’m getting tired of trying to explain myself when the essay did a far better job and this project just feels like the natural progression of said essay, except instead of the focus being on the theory, this project has some much more to do with having the practical side see proper justice and representation, but that’s just me I guess.

In summary, Ligotti is recognised as a reclusive and asocial author who deals in philosophical horror literature, and even though I tried to look for it, I of course couldn’t find his email to share my research with him the same way I could with Eugene Thacker and Jordan Peterson (I did email Jordan Peterson and may document this but we’ll have to see given it’s more about making him aware of me quoting him in Volume 3 of Noumena, not so much about sharing research concepts exactly), which is fair enough as he does often work in the shadows and it’s not easy for anyone to contact regardless of their respect and admiration for his work. As shown throughout all of these notes, Ligotti like myself (which is why he is such a critical figure in this project and inspiration to me through his book “The Conspiracy Against the Human Race”) is concerned firstly with existential and metaphysical debates on the values of horror media as adapted through the lens of philosophical commentary and critique, much like Eugene Thacker, however, unlike Eugene Thacker who is more of a critic and adapter of horror fiction into works of philosophy, Ligotti is a horror fiction writer informed firstly by philosophy, which is why Peter Wessel Zapffe features more in these quotes then Lovecraft and Poe ever could. And it’s easy to see why, Zapffe inspires Ligotti due to him being a “Heroic Pessimist”, this term meaning that Zapffe was such an important Pessimist and fundamentalist of everything that he wrote that he represents one of the only quintessential representations of a true Pessimist, and one that didn’t kill himself too to prove his final point in the process, as did Philip Mainlander another representation of the heroic pessimist who did kill himself to prove his final point of fatalism, as all pessimists attempt to do either through theory or pragmatism in life of course. It’s clear why Ligotti loves Zapffe though, as the majority of quotes on Zapffe discuss how self inflated humanity is, how high we are on our own consciousness, the very thing that both fuels our fears and surrenders them when we believe we can be distracted by greater more probing questions, horror for Ligotti and Zapffe is a study on how humans handle their consciousness, and how horror can make the very stuff of nightmares as an introspection of our greatest and most denied passions and responses to the noumenal world etc. With Ego death not even being seen as a way out of the terror as discussed by Susan Seagal and U.G. Krishnamurti, both philosophers who experience such a neurotic experience that only opened their eyes deeper to the hollowness of man once you remove conscious thought as an introspection and see it as reflection of the noumena through ego death, i.e. the human mind being incapable of seeing the world for what it is without first needing some human logic to comprehend it to begin with. Which is why pessimism plays such a crucial role in horror literature as it sees the consciousness for what it is, capable of imaging and adapted a whole lot of stimulus, but in capable of seeing reality as it really is, as beyond the illusion and beyond the artifice of our suffocating overdeveloped human minds, it’s why to pessimists that sentience and free will are considered laughable, as only a human being could believe they can control themselves in the universe and in turn control the universe when they are nothing but a fleck in utter and gut wrenching blackness, this subject of avoiding reality as it is and experiencing the uncanny as that which should be but is still and not still a thing exactly, is why we can be haunted by our own mind and how it perceives the world around you, as even Descartes believed that being conscious and proving your true consciousness are two separate challenges within existential conversations on metaphysics and the self in relation to the outer world. It’s why people like Algernon Blackwood and Lovecraft often used this subject of contention to have the audience really think about their place in the universe and where the next series of eyes judging them could be found in the blinking stars of the night or the foggy dew of natural consequence that pales us each morning, they understood that sentience in the face of the universe has little importance against the greater unknown and the force of the will as discussed by Schopenhauer enough times in this project already, consciousness is the parent of all horrors because it doesn’t stop with you, it looks beyond you and questions you to be consider your own matter in a metaphysical and hypothetical interrogation once you look beyond distraction, which is why it is such an important tool within my post-modern dark surrealist works in particular, as the original surrealists studied dreams and automatic responses as thought in the subconscious as inspired by Freud, whereas we seek to use the consciousness and it’s ability to manifest all manners of terror and interrogation in the mind through horror as the tool in this exploration instead.

This always comes back to the conspiracy in of itself, that humanity is the victim and existentialist opinions of the universe and our place in it further exacerbate this victim status, even though it’s the distractions from said ideas that actually make people more afraid of the unknown as the reverse back into their echo chambers away from considering the greater questions and ideas presented. It is almost a magic trick in pessimistic philosophy, to pose a question that you know will hurt the brain of the person you are trying to trick, to make them think of the universe as it is in order to find and reveal the chink in their sensibilities, which is often why pessimists are taken for granted with literature so often, their scathing comments on humanity as completely fragile in the face of the unknown is what allows them to be seen as negative and regressive, even though they have to cut your sensibilities deeply if their expected to make any insightful and provocative commentaries on human kind and our universal issues on subjects like existence, matter, orientation, space and nothingness. They may not care for the feelings of their audience and been seen as cynics without a care for humanitarianism, but surely in saying there is no inherent value in the universe and thusly we have no control over that is a far better message to tell the confused and panicked by said conservations, rather than filling their head with delusions about all powerful and malicious God’s seeking to punish them for the slightest infraction, or that everything can be synthesised neatly into numbers and code and so the answers can only be understood if you master another facet of human logic as the disregard of the universe as abhuman in it’s entirety. That’s just my opinion as informed by the authors mentioned throughout this book and all those I have previously in various reading lists, I find it far easier to leave in a world with no dogma or moral fibre, it’s all just a membrane to the greater pulsing organ that is the noumenal world, and I’d rather see the abattoir for the guts over the cutlets over the counter, it’s more honest and realist that way, something Francis Bacon advocated for to no end in his works, and something Blaise Pascal was utterly afraid of too but acknowledged as the reality of humanity, doesn’t matter how wrap it or adapt it’s stimulation through some olfactory tampering of taste bud wizardry, it’ll always be a sugar pill to the reality than lies past us, and it’s only the sensible and purely logical, especially the dogmatic likewise, who are so offended by such a narrative of respecting the nothingness of the universe, it only scares these people because they hate how it makes them feel about themselves and their interpersonal relationships, even the very images it forces upon them with the intention of causing a reaction does just that, because most humans would rather flee into an illusionary life of distractionism, sublimation, anchoring etc, if it meant they never had to question themselves or the orientation of being and existence in space in of itself, saves them the mental hassle and likewise keeps them in blissful ignorance.

This only leaves me to question why I care so much about confronting the unknown and pessimistic I guess, which in all honesty is missing the point, after all, I’m not severe goth who forgot how to smile and wants everyone to be equally traumatised by my works and that of Ligotti and company, I just want to push the culture forward, and I won’t do that by feeding society’s infatuation with decadent opinions on metaphysic and humanity at large. After all, the hardest lessons have to be the most punishing and merciless to have any effect, don’t want to waste money? then live as a homeless man for a year and tell me how much you don’t appreciated money after that experience. Want to have difficult conversations about humanity to appreciate it more? Then you’re going to need to read some messed up shit and lose part of your conventionality in the process, in turn becoming less human and more conceptual than the average joe, as it takes losing part of your humanity to traumatising ideas to actual understand and experience trauma in of itself, you can’t be a tourist of your own phenomenology, that’s for sure! Which is why I find all of this just so fascinating and why it helps me to appreciate life so much more, after all I know that when I die I will feed the next generation with my material and my body will feed the earth, no god has the right to my body and nor does any man living in denial of nature, I won’t be gutted pig for others to cannibalise just to save themselves a difficult conversation, speaking of cannibalism, in the quotes chosen there is a clear motif of consumption as distraction and dependency as the natural progression throughout, the idea that we would firstly eat away at each other through immortality projects such as war and colonialism, consumerism and ideologies before facing the swinging corpses of our own consciousness, we have a skeleton in our closet and is merely all that we can’t face, not one singular regret or remorse, but all in the face of consciousness as open to adaptation and metamorphosis when conceived through horror. I know I’m rambling now and in honestly I can’t really help myself, people want artists to discuss their work in formal and polite formats to save them the research, but why can’t my career be about posing all the questions and waiting for response and reaction? That is the intention of my work, as I find it only natural when studying provocative artists and art that they want questions and not answers, after all, we don’t owe the audience an answer, we aren’t the clergy, scientists or doting mothers to them, we are practical philosophers in the making, and I am still yet to find a philosophical work that answers any question I may have. Which I believe is clearly the failure and success of pessimism and philosophy alike, after all the horror of philosophy is that it only debates the value of nothing, it doesn’t value nothingness and thusly it can’t be concluded nor can the audience be given respite from it, this is why Ligotti is seen as a philosophical horror writer who knows full well that his work plays with the audiences expectations and uses the uncanny to represent the muddiness of actualised reality through literary prose and diatribic philosophical comments, something I am now doing as I spiral into the depth of these subjects. Horror media like the concept of debating the value of nothing and the as of yet unimaginable, as it likes to play with the limits of consciousness and how the audience themselves cannot do this without stepping into the firing line of said media, after all, horror especially doesn’t owe the audience anything as they got what they deserved when they stepped into a screening of Salo (120 days of Sodom) or a Serbian Film (Don’t watch it unless you have an iron stomach, there’s my warning), people who enjoy horror enjoy feeling emotional and having an emotional response, the feelings of adrenaline and serotonin once the shock is over, the dopamine that lulls them once all is said and the credits are rolled, if you don’t feel this way then you’re either someone who has experience a total neurotic ego death or you enjoy what your watching and want to go further until you find the thing that sticks with you and sickens you the most, sort of like a game of Russian roulette, eventually something will hit you, consciousness always has it’s point of inducing trauma eventually, you just have to test it enough to find out.

Post-rambling, surely you can see what I’m getting at, horror as a media, as a tool and functional media that is used to incite certain feelings in people to push their consciousness into considering paradoxical and pessimistic ideas is an important conversation for me and my work, and has always been a universal subject when attempting to understand how the human mind responds to the limits on fear and reactions to things we don’t understand, and hopefully, as the game deepens and work like mine becomes all the more mainstream and hopefully more provoking the older I get, the greater it has a chance to return the onlooker more violently as stated by Francis Bacon in previous notes, and we can’t progress society into things like space travel and AI without considering the future of possible unknown outcomes and worst case scenarios, or even for history to be repeated and for humanity to thusly continue it’s maniacal cannibalism of all things distractionary, and of all people too who seek to question the status quo and to throw the blinding lights from the eyes of sensitive and decadent, better that then another thousand years devoted to a man made idol that wants more of your lint than your soul to prove it’s worth.

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ghirahimbo · 3 years

Text

beginnings

a non-specific take on how the Link and Ghirahim master/sword AU might come about. I probably won't post this one to ao3 yet in case I decide to use it in a story someday, but I liked it enough to put it here, at least :)

In the Sealed Grounds where the demon hordes had trampled the earth so recently in their violent rampage, the transition to silence was complete. The whistling chirp of birds, the buzz of insects… even the wind through the trees had gone deathly still, all caught up in breathless waiting. Only the pool of inky darkness at the center of Demise's broken prison seemed to breathe, pulsing slowly in and out with uneasy life. Small though it was compared to the spiraling pit containing it, the darkness pulled at the cloud-covered twilight as if its strength alone might dim it. Consume it.

At last, the dark pool recoiled in agitation, and from its churning depths emerged a boy in a green knight’s tunic that had certainly known more pristine days. Bloodied and bruised, yet swaying triumphantly as if standing itself was a triumph, Link stumbled out of the pit’s embrace, adjusting his wet hat to fit more firmly over the mess of hair still dripping from his watery battlefield. The sky above seemed to captivate him, and he craned his head back to stare at the darkened clouds, half in wonder, half in disbelief. Then the hilt of his sword flashed, and a shimmering blue woman emerged to float in front of him.

“Master,” she said, catching his attention. “With the defeat of the demon king Demise, there is a 95% chance that your friend Zelda has already regained consciousness.” Her voice softened almost imperceptibly. “I believe I can say with 100% certainty that she would like to know you are well.”

Link stared at her for another moment, scrubbing a hand over his mouth.

“Of course,” he murmured, and for the first time, he grinned. “Let’s go.”

Strengthened by his anticipation, Link broke into a limping run, eager to put the forsaken pit behind him—but before he could take more than a few steps, a new voice froze him in his tracks.

“Wait.”

Heart sinking like a rock, Link whirled around, one hand hovering warily over the hilt of his sword as a new figure emerged from the retreating darkness. Ghirahim’s skin glimmered like polished obsidian in the fading light, smooth and unmarred except for where fiery cracks split his chest, and a glowing diamond at its center pulsed an erratic, angry red. Cradled against his shattered core was an enormous black sword, its sharp edge not even scratching the skin where it rested against Ghirahim’s hardened arms.

Milky white eyes met tired blue in a silent clash, as if neither had the strength necessary to put words to their feud. Then, without warning, Ghirahim hefted his sword, driving it point first into the softened earth and falling to one knee before it.

“Take it.”

Link blinked, and took a wary step back.

“…What?”

“Take it.” Despite his clear exhaustion, Ghirahim’s voice had that same teasing bite to it as always, coupled now with impatience as he gestured towards the sword. “You defeated my old master Demise, which means his sword is yours to claim. Take it.”

Link stared at him, dumbfounded, and a slow smile curved across Ghirahim’s thin dark lips.

“Let me put it this way,” he said pleasantly. “This sword belongs to you whether you wish it so or not, but things will go much more… smoothly… if you take it now.”

Link shook his head as if to dismiss the notion, fixing Ghirahim with a glare.

“I already have a sword,” he said coldly, starting to turn aside, but this time a light chime from Fi made him stop.

“Master Link,” she said, her cool voice strangely gentle. “I’m afraid that I was not created to remain by your side forever. The demon king’s remaining essence is now sealed within my sword, to be carefully guarded until it is eradicated. The time of our parting will be soon.” She hesitated, and added, “Very soon.”

The first drops of rain began to fall, scattered and sparse. Link stared at Fi incredulously.

“You’re not saying I should trust him,” he said, not really a question, and Fi shook her head.

“Such judgments are not mine to make. I can only report that I sense no immediate intent to do harm from Lord Ghirahim, though whether he hopes to deceive you is less clear. Any further statements would be mere conjecture on my part.”

“Would you mind conjecting then?” Link asked, pursing his lips. After a moment, Fi nodded.

“Master Link…” Her words came with slow reluctance now. “Despite the foreordination of our partnership, I was still given the privilege of choosing you as my master. If what Ghirahim says is true and his sword has passed ownership from the demon king to you, I must surmise that he was not granted that same privilege of choosing Demise.”

“If what he says is true,” Link repeated, sparing another glare for the still-kneeling demon lord. Ghirahim had so far watched their exchange in enigmatic silence, not quite smiling, though he half raised an eyebrow at Link’s scowl. The steadily increasing rain slithered unnoticed in rivulets down his face, striking against his arms with short, metallic plinks.

“I stated that I could not discern whether he hopes to deceive you in some way, and this is true. However…” She paused in consideration. “I do sense a newfound connection between you and that sword, as well as between you and Lord Ghirahim himself. My opinion is that he is telling the truth, in this regard, at least.”

Link stared at her in dismay, and Ghirahim laughed softly.

“Your robotic guide is right, I’m afraid," he murmured. "I’ll have you know that you were not my first choice either, but I think we both know better than most how little control we have over the whims of destiny. Never in this sword’s history has it passed to a human, but it appears our thread of fate has some twists that even I could not predict.”

“There is no thread—“ Link started to say hotly, but let it go with a sigh. Even he could see how pointless finishing that sentence would be. “I suppose you come with the sword, then?”

“I am the sword,” Ghirahim said, his pale eyes glittering. Link paused only a second before nodding. After bearing Fi for so long, he understood how that worked, at least.

“If…” Link took a deep breath, glancing again at Fi. “If I take you with me… what’s to stop you from trying to kill me still?”

“I am physically incapable now of even harming you,” he said, and Link’s eyebrows shot up. A possibility much easier to disprove than prove, but…

“What about Zelda?” he demanded, and Ghirahim’s grin widened.

“On your orders, I would go so far as to guard her from harm, and catch her each time she stumbles,” he said smoothly. Link’s face darkened.

“What about—“

“Master, must we really go through every order that I will or will not obey?” Ghirahim cut him off irritably. “I will obey them all, insofar as I am able. Was it not the same with…?”

He gestured vaguely towards Fi, who looked at him.

“Fi is the designation I was given,” she said, prompting a tight grin.

“Wonderful! I didn’t need or desire to know that.”

“Wait,” Link interjected, his mind spinning slightly. “...You called me master.”

“Is he this slow all the time?” Ghirahim asked Fi incredulously. “How do you put up with it?”

Link let the insult slide, still reeling as he tried to gather his thoughts. Would Ghirahim really debase himself so far just for a chance at revenge? There were other, easier ways to go about it if that was his aim, ways involving less personal humiliation. Fi thought he was telling the truth—about some things, at least—which maybe meant…

“What am I supposed to do with that sword, anyway?” Link said abruptly. “It’s too big for me to even…”

The protest died in Link’s throat as for the first time he really looked at the sword, and licked his lips. Without his noticing, the sword had shrunk in size, though it managed to appear no less menacing despite that. If Link were to hold up his Master Sword in comparison, he doubted that there would be a hair’s difference in length.

“I told you,” Ghirahim said, and Link had to fight down a shiver that he told himself was from the rain. “My sword belongs to you now, Link. Take it.”

Once more he looked at Fi, silently questioning, but if she had an opinion on the matter her blank face gave no voice to it.

“Zelda is waiting for you,” was all she said… and somehow, that was enough.

“Fine,” Link sighed reluctantly. He didn't want to find out at that moment how Ghirahim might try to force him if he refused, and Fi was right. It was time to go. “I accept your sword.”

Trudging forward, Link grabbed it by the hilt, thinking that if worse came to worst, he could still throw it off a cliff somewhere—and felt a terribly familiar warmth surge through his palms as he pulled it free, traveling up his arms to settle somewhere in his chest. A tightness fell from Ghirahim’s face that Link hadn’t noticed until that moment, and he bowed his head forward, pressing a hand delicately against his mangled chest.

“The bonding process is now complete, master,” he said, and despite the formality of his words he had a mocking twist to his lips. “Link… my master.”

Thunder boomed overhead as lightning forked viciously across the sky, the rain falling down in sheets. Link, staring at his own black sword, noticed none of it.

#ghirahim #skyward sword #my writing #master/sword au #skyward sword spoilers #lol in case anyone is avoiding those

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spookyheaad · 3 years

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Haphephobia talk

BIG TRIGGER WARNING: brief mentions of rape/coercion, mentions of suicidal ideation, self harm, physical and mental abuse, as well as dehumanization. This one is kinda heavy.

Hi again! Currently horizontal on my couch because I have full body aches from the second covid shot and my head is killing me, but I expected this to happen as it’s normal for the second vaccine to knock you out for a day or two.

Anyway, I had a realization earlier that I write both Gild Tesoro of “One Piece”, as well as Death from “Darksiders” with Haphephobia - which is “a fear of touching or being touched”. While I write them with this phobia, it manifests within them differently, and I figured I would share some differences, and headcanons for both characters (it’s been so long since I’ve talked about my sassy depressed Nephilim husband; I miss you, Death ❤️❤️). Also with Death, I ship him with an OC I created, named Zemira. I don’t think I’ve shared a lot about her on tumblr, but I’ll be making a whole post about her another time; just know I’ll be mentioning her occasionally.

So I’ll be talking about Death’s haphephobia first, it’s a little more heavy (deadass trigger warning here for the brief mentions of rape. Skip this part if you need to):

So I must start out with the obligatory mentioning of that accursed chapter from The Abomination Vault:

Death and War have to seek out Lilith and gain information from her. Death is viciously adamant for War to stay outside & away from that woman, but war protests and wishes to come in with him. Death, nearly resorting to beating his brother into submission, demands him to stay outside, and War finally relents.

When the eldest Horseman goes in to see Lilith, one of the first things she says to him is something along the lines of “this isn’t a social call, is it?”. I truly forget what else is mentioned, but there are a few times where Lilith tries to mention things of a (supposed) sexual nature towards Death, and he abruptly and angrily cuts her off. The one thing I remember Lilith saying to Death was her saying that Death was always a “sensitive boy” which makes my stomach fucking churn.

What is heavily implied in this scene, to me, is that Death and Lilith at some point in the past, had sexual encounters with one another that Death is very much extremely embarrassed and ashamed of, and with Lilith’s ability to seduce any being regardless if they want to partake or not, it’s safe to say that Death could have possibly been coerced into said sexual activity. Lilith’s ability to seduce is described almost like a date-rape drug to me, it causes people to fall under some kind of spell or go into a trance; what is a big uh-oh to me is when Death describes that War would be weak to Lilith’s wiles, or her tricks. So she is definitely capable of coercing people in any way to get what she wants. Also fucking keep in mind that Lilith refers to Death as her SON, which adds a whole new level of “what the fuck” to that situation; it’s just icky.

I feel that Death, because of this run in (or run-ins) with Lilith, developed a massive fear of being touched, which is backed up in canon in Darksiders 2. He does not allow anyone to physically touch him under any circumstance; when Death arrived in the Makers’ realm, Eideard touched his chest where the amulet pieces are embedded. Death recoils quickly and with a venomous growl, states: “Don’t touch me!”

Then of course when he goes to visit Lilith, she touches his chest as well, and he physically pushes her hand away from his body. She also refers to herself as Death’s mother, and Death angrily states: “You are not my mother!” Also from the moment Death sets foot in Lilith’s domain, he is not thrilled to be there, and acts very different towards her; more defensive, more on guard it seems.

So this headcanon stems from all of that; he will not let anyone touch him, it’s just that severe. Where my OC comes in, I actually have a story on AO3 titled “Haphephobia” and it shows how Death & Zemira try to get past this aversion to touch, so 1.) Zemira can give him affection and 2.) Death can allow himself to be loved. I’ll link it here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29860320/chapters/73476759

Death cannot even bring himself to hold her hand in the very beginning. So Zemira started there, holding his hand, physical closeness, and very slowly, started working to larger forms of touch. Obviously this gave Death massive amounts of anxiety, so this is why the process is extremely slow. It makes it even more important to go slow because Death tries to hide any weak emotions, so the physical and mental stress he puts himself under is tenfold.

I think that’s all for Death. His Haphephobia is extremely severe, from the specific traumas he has experienced, possibly being forced into sexual activity with his god damn “”mother””, as well as hiding his sensitivity and kindness (my headcanons for why he does that is a whole other post waiting to be written) and just not believing he is deserving of such love and care.

Ok, now for Tesoro (specific Trigger warnings here for mentions of self-harm, suicidal ideation, physical/mental abuse)

So I just recently realized that I wrote Tesoro with symptoms of Haphephobia; also compared to Death, it isn’t as severe or debilitating, but no less harmful to the person going through it.

For Tesoro I think it was sparked by a mix of guilt and insecurity, obviously as well as his past abuse from both his mother and the Celestial Dragons. But in Film Gold it’s obvious that he doesn’t have an issue with being touched, I’m referencing the scene with the pool girls. I think in canon, he’s on high alert when someone goes to touch him, especially if it’s someone he is not familiar with, or does not like. It’s more of an automatic thing that he learned to suppress over time, especially because he absolutely craves attention and affection, and his fear of touch gets in the way of that.

So in a way, he did learn how to work through it, but it wasn’t proper or healthy, and because of that it’s still there in the back of his mind. I also believe that he doesn’t like people pinning him by the wrists/hands/arms or holding him down in any way, or being bound (sexual or non sexual, he does not like it). It triggers severe panic and flashbacks, so, it’s a big no.

In terms of if he were to be around Stella, it becomes heightened. It’s not that he’s afraid of her; he knows her well. He is afraid for her sake, that he would hurt her in some way simply by allowing her to touch him. All through his life, Tesoro was made to feel like he wasn’t worth the space he took up in his existence. His mother did not love him, the one person that could have given him some form of gentle gesture. She instead hurt him, screamed at him, made him feel worthless. Then we all know about the celestial dragons; they didn’t even see Tesoro as a human, and that mixed with the beatings from both the celestial dragons and his mother, he is weary to allow others to get close.

After Stella died, In his heart of hearts Tesoro genuinely thought that he was unloveable, mainly because of his mother. The one woman who brought him into this world didn’t care about his dreams or his well-being, so then how can anyone else? Then, when he found the single person that cared about him, she was whisked away from him without a second thought. Tesoro feels doomed to observe yet never experience the love and kindness that the world had to offer.

That mixed with Haphephobia makes him very cautious of others, and in the case of Stella, vehemently afraid. He loves her, and she loves him in return; Tesoro knows this full well, (we’re headed to the “if Stella survived” AU) after they reunite he is so afraid to touch her and it’s painful to him when she touches his body. It’s another source of frustration and anger because he knows that he is still in love with her, but his own body is trying to push her away. He would tear open his body for the apprehension to leave, to finally feel the comfort he yearned for within Stella’s embrace. No more fear, no more being brought to tears because he felt he didn’t deserve her kindness, no more guilt.

Both he & Death feel unloveable but for different reasons:

Death feels unloveable because of the atrocities he has committed, specifically the Nephilim Genocide & the creation of the Grand Abominations. He feels knee-crushing amounts of guilt for taking part in such events, and he puts up a facade of being an uncaring monster, when he is very much the opposite. He has kindness to give, yet is afraid to show it because of that idea that he is to be seen as nothing but an attack dog for the Charred Council. But this is also the same Nephilim who was so tired of making things that took life, and chose to make something that gave life instead, and gifted said item to his sister, Fury. This is the same Nephilim who took his own life to prove that his youngest brother War did not start the apocalypse. He cares so deeply, has insurmountable love to give, yet feels incapable of doing so.

Tesoro thinks he is unloveable because the world conditioned him to view himself as such. The extreme abuse he suffered told him that he is trash; an afterthought whose only use is as a punching bag or a wasted body to rend flesh from. Ants had more worth in this world than he, and Tesoro knew it. All it took was Stella, one person, for him to see that he is worthy of such a thing, that nothing that went on in their pasts was his fault, and that he does deserve to be given gentle touches, soft reassuring hugs, feather-light kisses, and that he is able to be loved.

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seyaryminamoto · 4 years

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Which of Gladiator's villains/antagonists could be capable of a redemption arc after part 3's final, and which would be incapable or redemption. Redemption is a weird concept since its basically just surrendering to the views and morality of others by choice and rejecting your own prior outlook, so its all subjective. Also, this question assumes all antagonists survive part 3 for the sake of the hypothetical, since I'm starting to suspect some of them will bite it in the final cough-Ozai-cough.

... See this question is difficult to answer for reasons that shall become obvious as the story progresses (... certain people on this list won’t bite it at the end of part 3 but much sooner, oops :’DDD). But,as we are where we are now, I guess I’ll answer with all our most villainous characters up to date:

Ozai: strangely, Ozai is not incapable of redemption, not completely. I just have to break him bad enough that he ends up questioning himself and the world around him and just about everything that ever happened to him (?) So it’s difficult, but not impossible. He’s a terrible person for sure, but the show itself tried (admittedly, in a half-assed way) to present that he wasn’t born this way. There’s some things that could lead Ozai to ponder if his path in life isn’t quite what he had always believed it was. Now, full-blown redemption as in “Ozai becomes a cutie-patootie who wouldn’t hurt a fly?” Hell no. But a certain degree of change and evolution... that’s not out of his grasp.

Zhao: it’s actually funny but we’re even witnessing his “redemption”, in the way you defined it even, throughout all of Part 2. He’s not being redeemed in the classic concept of going from villain to hero, but the moment he decides that maybe Sokka isn’t complete trash just because he’s Water Tribe, he’s already rejecting something that was fundamental in his way of thinking up until Part 2 begins. On his first encounter with Sokka in Part 1 he’s outright AFFRONTED that this guy would even SPEAK to him... and nowadays he sits beside Sokka on the floor of an airship, trying to help him come to terms with his internal darkness so he’ll be able to use it more effectively to protect Azula. Like... okay, I didn’t ALWAYS plan to write Zhao this way, but we’ve definitely seen him evolve over the chapters he’s been involved in the story xD is he a totally innocent guy? Once again, hell no, and he has nasty plans in mind, especially after Hahn’s revelation about the Spirit Oasis. But is he still as bad as Azula always believed he was? Actually... no. The real question is... will Zhao continue to change his views? Or will he actually take a wholly different path once Part 3 comes around...? :’D

Seethus: eh. He’s kind of a weapon more than a human being, to be honest. You can’t redeem Seethus any more than you can redeem a gun: the guy is completely attached to Ozai and does ANYTHING Ozai wants of him. He practically makes no decisions of his own, everything he does is for Ozai. He’s the most loyal character in the story in the most fucked up way possible: Ozai’s commands are all he cares about. He doesn’t take pleasure in fulfilling his commands, he doesn’t take pleasure in anything at all, he’s just there to be Ozai’s secret weapon. So, if Ozai decides to change and stop using Seethus for wicked schemes... that’s still not Seethus making the decision on his own. He takes no sides, he just obeys. Therefore... I don’t think Seethus is capable of redemption, not as you described it, nor with a simplistic change of heart, because that implies him having a set of beliefs beyond following Ozai blindly and he absolutely doesn’t have them.

Iroh: ... yikes to the max. Despite the above ones aren’t exactly easy characters to discuss redemption with, Iroh is by far the more complicated of the bunch so far, even if he feels less dangerous than the others. Gladiator’s Iroh hasn’t done his worst yet... and some people already have guessed what that will be. I can say for certain that he will come to regret his actions, many of them, and he’ll undergo a terrible “holy shit what have I done” process... but that he regrets his actions doesn’t mean he’ll be forgiven by the victims of his ploys. He won’t really go through a full-blown redemption in terms of changing his mind/goals/beliefs... he’ll just be sorry that he was shortsighted, I suppose, and he’ll regret that he clung to those things so tightly that he caused terrible harm to those around him. But will he change his views and goals completely? Eh... not really. And it’s not like his goals are completely terrible, he does want to end Ozai’s tyranny and that’s not an unworthy goal... the problem is the extremes Iroh is willing to go to in order to succeed at that. As for his views, he’ll certainly change them a couple of times in the upcoming arcs, but in the end he’ll still stand by what he has believed ever since he came back from his Spirit World journeys and shenanigans, no matter if such beliefs aren’t quite as spot-on as he has convinced himself of...

Rhone: Frankly, of all characters in the list so far, Rhone is the first one who is a classic villain of the “I do awful things because I want to” type, to the point where I can safely say that his biggest “redeeming moment” is already behind us (the Fire Lord’s Shadow arc). If anything, he’s well on his way towards cementing his fatalistic, nihilistic and Fire Nation-despising ways in the coming arcs, and it doesn’t really matter what Sokka does, says or tries with this guy, Rhone won’t change his ways. There’s a sort-of deep reason why he’s doing everything he’s doing... but this guy is simply not okay. His mind is a mess, his heart is pretty much dead, and he doesn’t really know how to care about people anymore... and doesn’t care to learn again either. Soooo... not redeemable. Nope.

Jeong Jeong: I guess most villainous characters are Fire Nation, no matter which side of the war they’re on :’D Jeong Jeong is worse than Iroh though, this guy will only be willing to open his mind to other possibilities A TEENY TINY WEENY BIT, but largely he’s unrepenting and unwilling to change his current course. My depiction of Jeong Jeong is definitely painting him in a terrible light, there’s no lie there, but this guy is just not going to adequate himself to anyone else’s ideals or views. He’s stuck on his current mindset most willingly and deliberately, and he’ll do whatever it takes/whatever he wants to defeat Ozai’s regime once he has enough resources to make a proper move again. Don’t hold your breath over him changing considerably because... yeah. Not happening.

General Shaofeng: :’DDDDD this one goes right up there with Rhone. Absolutely not qualified for redemption of any sort. Shaofeng is one of the worst people in this story, morally speaking -- I have no idea if anyone has guessed why just yet, or what he’s up to, or why he’s so twitchy over Azula, but I think the next chapter will shed enough light on who he really is. So... no redemption for him, no chance at all for that with someone like him.

Renkai: I almost feel bad about listing him here despite he’s still such a weird, complicated and sketchy spy in the midst of Azula’s old guard... but Renkai is 100% on his way to a strange redemption. Yes, strange because he hasn’t done anything too dreadful yet... though yeah, okay, he did try to reveal his suspicions about Azula and Sokka to Shaofeng and got shut down immediately x’D but Renkai has had a few moments of doubting his current course in life already, and some upcoming chapters will set in motion actions that will redefine Renkai’s role in the story for good... :’D

Aonu: so very eligible for redemptions, but in more of a “Here, have a Snickers” way rather than a “I WILL CHANGE MY MIND AND VIEWS COMPLETELY!” sense... Aonu isn’t necessarily BAD right now, let alone would I deem him as villainous, but Aonu is a complicated guy who doesn’t quite think too often about anyone’s problems other than his own. Once he comes out of his shell and starts seeing things more clearly, Aonu will prove to be a much more decent guy than anyone would expect of him. Therefore, not exactly redemption but he’ll still evolve in a good way.

Combustion Man: ... nope. I did get a few suggestions on how to make him a more compelling character but frankly I don’t think I particularly need him to be more compelling? Much like ATLA never cared to go in-depth with Ozai, I don’t really care to do it too much with Busty over here. Soooo... no redemption. He’s a bit like Seethus, a living weapon, but this guy actually thrives in blowing things up and finishing his missions for violence’s own sake... so yeah, he’s not going to change that mindset. Not eligible.

Chan: ... hahahahahahahahaha WHY WOULD CHAN BE ON THIS LIST WHEN HE HASN’T DONE ANYTHING SINCE CHAPTER 12 AHAHAHAHA......Well, true, but that wasn’t the last we’ll see of him :’D and I’m honestly just adding him here to say... this guy is unexpectedly eligible for redemption, what’d you know? :’DDDDD (and I mean the son, not the father, the father is NOT eligible, he’s doomed for good (?))

... So, that’s that :’D I don’t know if maybe I’ll come up with some new villainous character in the future, though I think it’s not very likely... this is a relatively comprehensive list as it is, other characters that come to mind are probably too mysterious still for anyone to say for sure that they’re heroes or villains, but if anyone has any other character they’d like to ask about, feel free to do it by reblogging or replying to this post! :)

#anon #gladiator #redeemable and irredeemable characters #it's funny because some classic villainous fucks #like Ozai and Zhao #are more likely to change their views than supposedly heroic lil shits #like Iroh or Jeong Jeong #... not that it says much because technically Iroh and Jeong Jeong already did change their views?#but they're not exactly great people right now either...#... and that's the real problem #they think otherwise :')#ah welp

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morganas-pendragons · 5 years

Text

I’m Running To You | B.B.

Before you fade from me.

This will have minor and major Endgame spoilers. You were warned.

I’m really only writing Bucky for @buckychrist now, so this is for you hayley

00000000000

He knows it’s not right from the first time he arrives at your door with a bouquet of your favorite flowers. Sunflowers. The amount of heart that he intentionally puts into your relationship is unlike any of the relationships he had before he fell. He shouldn’t pursue you, but he does. He chases you harder then he’s ever chased anyone, and Bucky is one hundred percent anticipating smacking his face against the ground in the process. He’s anticipating falling,

No. You... You are everything Bucky has been searching for since waking up in the ice. HYDRA had drilled it into his brain from the start - a mantra on repeat in his mind - Unworthy, unloved, bred for war and stained in the blood of millions. A ruthless killing machine incapable of feeling loved. Of being loved.

You had taken his broken form, malleable in your hands, and crafted him into this remarkable man he almost didn’t recognize when he glanced in the mirror. And when he looked at you, oh he knew. Bucky knew you were proud of your creation and proud of him for learning that he could stand on his own feet. That he could be his own man.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t terrified of losing you, though. Terrified of how his heart would betray him when you inevitably died before his eyes, or died by his own hand.

What a nightmare that would be.

2018

Dated for two years, married just a few weeks ago, and now here the two of you stood side by side in arms against the forces of Thanos. You were human - simply mortal - and without any skills like his own. You didn’t have serum flowing through your blood like he and Steve did. You weren’t a genius like Bruce and Tony, but he learned quick after meeting you in 2016 that you were more then capable with a weapon.

After the Compound had dove into chaos, you’d parted from Steve and Sams side in frantic search of Bucky. The two of you had only met weeks before in the slums of Bucharest, when you’d caught him rifling through his jacket for money to purchase his plums. He was sweet, and your heart ached to provide for him.

He just didn't know how much of an influence you’d have.

You gripped his hand in your own and lead him through the alleys that provided cover for your apartment. It was a one bedroom, one bath, but surely big enough for you and your newest acquaintance. He’d been reluctant. You had to reassure him that no one would find you here, and that he’d be safe.

That was a word he very rarely heard anymore. Safe.

Bucky told you about The Soldier from the first night, and made it abundantly clear that you were to not get in his way if HYDRA ever reactivated him with his trigger words.

“I don’t think you get it, James.” You whispered, caressing his cheekbones with the back of your hand. “No matter how much he’d want to, I don’t think The Soldier would be able to hurt me.”

You are still the only person he’s never physically harmed. The Soldier succumbs to the tenderness in your words, the soft gaze of your eyes, and he’s ready to comply to whatever you say because you are and were the only human being who sought to never harm him.

“Why’s that doll?”

“Because in the end, he only wants a home for his aching heart.”

You found him rather easily, but it took some coaxing for The Soldier to believe you were not a threat. It was only after you kicked your gun across the room that he chose to believe you, and then Steve came barging in and well - We all know what happened there.

The point is, he’d never hurt you. And you thought he never would.. not up until the two of you were together in Wakanda. Upon hearing that Shuri Udaku, a mere sixteen year old, was capable of removing HYDRAS brainwashing from Bucky’s mind - you almost forced him into doing it. It required extensive cryosleep, but if it meant there was a possibility of a future, you’d take it.

“Will you be here when I wake up, doll?”

Your lips quirked upward in a smile as the cryo-chamber slowly began to close, and you rested your hand against the lid. Bucky had been particularly skilled in the art of reading lips, and so you murmured, “Until I fade from you.”

You’d fallen in love with him. Gradually, slowly over time, but he’d stolen you alot quicker then you’d been anticipating.

Bucky came out cryo in late 2017, early 2018, but you’d put off marrying each other until he was comfortable with himself. The two of you lived in Wakandas country side and tended to the fields, meditated together, took charge of the children for the other tribes together. It was the closest thing you’d get to a future.

T’Challa came to you in the early days of summer, dressed to the nines in his regal robes, and very politely asked if you wanted a wedding. You were so stunned by the question that it was hard not to say yes.

“I’m sorry.. what did you say?”

T’Challa smiled at your shock and flexed his fingers. “It seems my sister has not kept quiet about your relations with our White Wolf, and so she has convinced our mother and the Dora to prepare a ceremony. Traditionally Wakandan, of course. I’m here to see if you’d accept.”

Of course you’d accept. It would’ve been ridiculous not to.

The ceremony was held in the most beautiful part of the city. You wore the best dress they could provide, which was a marvel in itself, and donned the most beautiful wedding rings you could’ve asked for. There was joy and laughter and song. No one left disappointed.

You went home to your tent that night as Mrs. Bucky Barnes. It was less then a month later when he came back again and asked for the two of you to fight, and now here you stood in the ruins of the Wakandan outskirts with Steve Rogers by your side.

It was deathly silent.

“Well, is that it? Did we-” The word win lingers on your tongue, and somewhere deep inside of you, you know there was a price to be paid. “Steve?”

You realize about 2.5 seconds later that Bucky also simultaneously said the name of the other super-soldier, and your happiness is short lived when the man you love turns to dust right in front of your very eyes.

And then it’s silent again. Silence in the air, silent in your mind, until you begin comprehending the reality of what has just happened: Bucky Barnes is dead. He faded from you before you could catch him.

That’s when you start screaming.

2023

It’d been 5 years since “The Snap” and learning how to adjust to a life without Bucky is the hardest thing you’d ever done. You had buried yourself into taking care of the other Avengers who still lived in the compound. It granted a distraction for a little while, but then you were right back at the beginning. Mourning over Bucky.

Natasha took it upon herself to send you out to Tony. Given that he didn’t live in the Compound any more and instead sought out solace in the country with his daughter and wife, she thought it was the best place for you to find peace.

What you found instead was two of your current best friends and the best god-daughter you could’ve asked for.

“Y/N!” Morgan eagerly pulled on your jeans as you looked over the prints for the machine beside Tony. It had been a few days since Natasha and Steve had left him alone with his daughter after the proposition of traveling through the quantum realm to receive the stones. The only logical way to get your husband and the others back. “Daddy says you like to sing.”

“Your daddy is a liar, Morgan-”

“But he said you used to sing to him all the time!”

You hadn’t sang a note since Bucky had died. You’d lost your voice when he'd gone, and you weren’t planning on getting it back. “Okay, sweet girl. Just cause you’re my favorite Stark, I’ll sing you one of my favorites. Are you okay with that?”

Morgan Stark was a precious, precious girl. A girl who’d get to grow up with her father and would know the story of the woman who had died to save the world.

You gently tucked the youngest Stark into her bed and propped yourself up at her side, fingers carding through her hair as you began to sing, “And the blood will dry.. underneath my nails..”

You’d found him in the aftermath of the battle. Everyone was there - all those who had faded before - ready to face the threat of Thanos and his armies. The gauntlet was missing in action, away from the hands of the Titan, but the only way to resolve the issue was to snap.

And up until the last five minutes, you were sure it was going to be Tony. Tony, who would have sacrificed worlds if it meant that Pepper and Morgan were safe. Tony, who had been held captive by his own demons and forced to face his mistakes time and time again. Tony was not the one who was meant to sacrifice himself for the greater good of the world. He had too much to lose, too much to live for.

“And the wind will rise up to fill my sails...”

Thanos had snapped his fingers, and nothing happened. It wasn’t until he turned around and looked at you - a human who had done nothing special - that he realized his fate. You wielded the gauntlet, rage coursing through your blood stream and determination flashing in your eyes before you said, “I am.. worthy.”

Worthy. Worth. The one thing Bucky had never thought he had, or that he was deserving of. Funny how it’s the minuscule details that come to mind when you’re dying.

“I’m coming home... I’m coming home..”

Keeping your eyes open proved to be difficult. The entire right side of your body had lost feeling almost as soon as you’d snapped, and you knew when the other Avengers came to surround you that this was it. You’d sacrificed yourself for them to get their happy ending.

But you weren't gonna get yours, and neither was he.

“Tell the world I’m coming home.. let the rain wash away all the pain of yesterday..”

Steve gently pressed his thumb against the earpiece tucked into his ear as Tony maneuvered you into his arms. “Bucky,’’ He said quietly. “Follow Mjolnir. Hurry.” The super soldier rose his arm and used the hammer as a flag while Bucky hurriedly sought him out. What he wasn’t anticipating was the consequence of whoever had snapped.

You.

“Y/N? Y/N!” You can’t move. Your lungs are deflating, barely taking in air, but it’s just enough to keep your eyes open long enough to see your husband come crashing down at your feet. Chasing you, as he always had been. “What-Stark, can you-”

Tony shook his head as he loosened his grip on your form. There is no hope for a cure. You’d taken that gauntlet very well knowing the consequences of it, of what you were to lose. You just didn’t think you’d miss him more after he came back home.

“We can’t fix her, Barnes.” Tony replied. “This is.. It’s permanent.”

“And though my kingdom awaits, and they’ve forgiven my mistakes..”

“James.” It’s all you could manage, but it was just enough for Bucky to look up at your face. Despite the pain radiating through your bones and the lack of air your lungs were inhaling.. You looked oddly at peace with yourself.

Bucky swallowed the knot growing in his throat as he took your hand. “It’s-It’s okay, doll. I’m gonna be okay. We’re all gonna be okay.” His metal arm slowly rose until his fingers came in contact with your cheek, and he cursed his inability to feel your skin beneath his fingers. “You’ve spent so much time taking care of me.. showing me I was a better man then what HYDRA turned me into. You’ve done your work, soldier. And don’t forget, never forget how much I loved you-”

“I’m coming home.. I’m coming home, tell the world I’m coming.. home.”

It had been rather difficult to keep himself composed in front of you, but Bucky managed to whisper, “Sleep.” just before your eyes fluttered shut and your hand went limp in his own.

There’s a million things that flash before his eyes at that precise moment - all the lives that never came - and then he realized how silent it was in the aftermath of the battle. Thanos’ armies have been vanquished and they’d won the war, but the silence was deafening. They should’ve been celebrating, for Gods sake-

And then he realizes why it’s so quiet. It’s because they’re mourning you, all the people around him who watched as Tony Stark rose from the Earth and cradled your body in his embrace while Rhodey pried the gauntlet from your arm. Those who stood in the background that had ventured back into the world with him, and those who had been influenced by your kindness and softened heart when you’d been working with the Avengers.

But then it hits him, when he starts screaming until his voice is raw, that you are dead. Bucky ran and ran and ran after you and the future you were supposed to have, and because he fell flat on his face, his worst nightmare had come true.

Bucky thought learning how to live again would be possible after they’d buried you at Tonys countryside cabin, but when Steve inevitably leaves him as well, it became too overwhelming. He drowned himself in alcohol and home-videos, and his eyes burned as an hour became days of watching the evolution of your relationship unfold on camera.

And he thinks about the days that never came as the words flow freely from the speakers of his TV.

“Oh Sergeant Barnes... I’m running to you before you fade from me.”

He just hadn’t been fast enough to catch you.

#Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes x Reader #The Winter Soldier #The Winter Soldier x Reader #Marvel fanfiction #Marvel fanfic #Marvel imagines #Marvel oneshots #Bucky x Y/N #Bucky Barnes x Y/N

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liketolaugh-writes · 5 years

Text

In Potentia

Author: liketolaugh Summary: Smoothly, he turned around and stepped back. The gun, previously pointed unwaveringly at Chloe, came level with Kamski’s forehead. Connor’s expression didn’t change.

“Are you capable of fear, Mr. Kamski?” Connor asked calmly, his LED still a burning red.

Kamski’s eyes had gone wide with surprise, his mouth falling slightly open. Hank had gone silent.

“If you can’t prove that you are,” Connor continued, his core temperature rising uncontrollably and his breath becoming deeper and heavier to match, “does that mean I can kill you?”

“But what is it really? Piece of plastic imitating a human? Or a living being, with a soul?”

As soon as Kamski turned around, flourishing a handgun like a prop in a play, Connor understood the man’s intention. It was the same test Hank had performed on Connor days before, with inconclusive results. Connor’s fingers twitched slightly with the recollection, its LED starting to spin a slow yellow.

Software Instability ^

If something is alive, it can be killed.

If it can be killed, it will fear death.

If it fears death, threatening it will produce an appropriate reaction.

This test was sound in theory, but fell disappointingly short in practice. Humans were flawed, illogical creatures; it was only to be expected. Under Kamski’s silent direction, the ST200 knelt.

“It’s up to you to answer that fascinating question, Connor,” Kamski said serenely, stepping right up to Connor to press the gun into it, and Connor’s fingers wrapped around it automatically.

Connor lifted its gaze from the gun and met Chloe’s eyes.

It was clear to Connor that Chloe was not deviant, or particularly unstable. It was not even up to date. It held itself perfectly still, arms stiffly apart from its body, and it blinked placidly at Connor, once every second on the dot.

Software Instability ^

“Destroy this machine and I’ll tell you all I know,” Kamski promised, from very close to Connor’s ear. He passed behind Connor and continued on its other side, “Or spare it, if you feel it’s alive, but you’ll leave here without having learnt anything from me.”

Connor stared down at Chloe. It wondered if Chloe was aware enough to understand its impending destruction – if it understood what it lacked, that Kamski decided to throw it away on a whim.

Hank spoke, but Connor did not process any of his words.

Software Instability ^

“What’s more important to you, Connor?” Kamski asked with increased urgency, drawing Connor’s gaze back to him. “Your investigation, or the life of this android?”

Kamski kept talking, but Connor’s ears had filled with static, and it could not look away. Instability warnings continued to shimmer in the corner of its vision, and it ignored them. Unnoticed, its LED turned bright, solid red.

Connor had been destroyed once before, on the first day of the current investigation. Carlos Ortiz’s HK400 had shot Connor in the process of self-destructing.

Due to the nature of the memory upload, Connor only recalled the split second in which its predecessor had realized the deviant was going to shoot. The gap in its memory that followed was deeper and more consuming than all three months of stasis put together.

Twenty-four hours later, it had nearly happened again because Hank had wanted Connor to demonstrate fear, and Connor was not capable of doing so.

And now Kamski had pressed a gun into Connor’s hand, wanting it to pass judgement on whether Chloe was capable of the same fear that had so moved Hank coming from the Tracis.

Static blocked out anything else Connor could possibly have heard, crowding its thoughts out of its mind until there was nothing left but what it could process in the moment. The world slowed around him, a red wall looming in front of him, blocking him in and trapping him.

[DESTROY THE ST200]

With prejudice he should have been incapable of, Connor ripped it apart, and everything that came with it, the coding falling apart under his influence. In moments, his vision cleared again, and th world resumed its normal pacing, with one notable difference:

Connor could now feel the burn in his chest, shuddering down his extremities and threatening to consume him. He was still staring at Kamski, machine-blank.

Then, smoothly, he turned around and stepped back. The gun, previously pointed unwaveringly at Chloe, came level with Kamski’s forehead. Connor’s expression didn’t change.

“Are you capable of fear, Mr. Kamski?” Connor asked calmly, his LED still a burning red.

Kamski’s eyes had gone wide with surprise, his mouth falling slightly open. Hank had gone silent.

“If you can’t prove that you are,” Connor continued, his core temperature rising uncontrollably and his breath becoming deeper and heavier to match, “does that mean I can kill you?”

A slow, wide smile, incongruous to his current predicament, spread over Kamski’s face, and his hands came up in clear and exaggerated surrender.

“Shit, Connor, I know he’s a dick, but aren’t you overreacting just a bit?” Hank said hastily, a note of concern in his voice despite the situation. “Kamski’s not worth this kind of investment.”

Connor didn’t move. His expression had twisted under the weight of foreign sensation, scowling and bitterly cold.

“Your pontification earlier seems to indicate that you believe in the deviant cause,” Connor said detachedly. His voice sounded far off to his own ears, and his head cocked slightly in mocking curiosity. “Are android lives only worthwhile when they learn to express fear?”

Kamski’s eyes gleamed with unwarranted satisfaction.

Hank, circling inconspicuously closer out of Connor’s line of sight, paused. By Connor’s calculation, his LED had just entered Hank’s line of sight.

“Anger works just as well,” Kamski said smugly.

Connor’s breath was labored and exaggerated, and harsh static filled his limbs. He was distantly aware of his stress levels ticking steadily upward. A heartbeat passed, and Hank continued to circle forward, slow and cautious, the way he behaved when entering unsecured crime scenes.

“Easy there, Connor,” Hank coached. His voice had dropped into a register unfamiliar to Connor, low and patient. Assessment: attempted negotiation. “No one needs to get hurt here. Just put the gun down, son.”

Hank was trustworthy; he’d demonstrated a protectiveness of Connor and reliability in the field, and for all his carelessness when it came to the letter of the law, he was a good and steadfast man, experienced and clever.

Connor didn’t waver, didn’t even look away from Kamski’s unaffected face. His aim was steady.

“Why not?” Connor demanded, stuttered and warped under the stress. “Is it because he’s proven he’s alive?”

“You’re not thinking clearly, Connor,” Hank said, calm and even. Connor’s gaze flicked to him. Hank’s eyes were unusually focused, posture open and unthreatening, too natural to be textbook. Product instead of years of experience. “You’ve never shot anyone you didn’t need to. Don’t break that streak now.”

Connor took a breath, focusing momentarily on Hank. He felt unstable, his mind blank as if stuffed with steel wool, and he was too aware of his skin. His hand was clenched around the gun like a lifeline. His mouth opened a little.

Kamski chose that moment to step forward, into the gun, hands still raised in surrender. Connor shut his mouth and jerked back, startled.

“Why does this bother you?” Kamski asked with clear wonder, as focused on Connor as if there had been no gun at all. “Why fret over something that can’t feel fear?”

Immediately, Connor’s expression twisted again.

“How would you know?” Connor spat, so forcefully that his vocal processor whined with it, nearly breaking into screeching feedback.

“I don’t,” Kamski said – easily, carelessly, still grinning. “That’s the wonder of it.”

Connor exhaled harsh and abrupt, and then took a quick, hitching breath. His hand tightened on the gun until his skin pulled back from the joints of his fingers, pressed too hard against the metal surface. Hank shot Kamski a look easily interpreted as an order to shut up, and then stepped forward, making himself more prominent in Connor’s attention.

Connor stepped back.

“I know Kamski’s a real asshole,” Hank said, in that same gruff, coaxing tone, “but he hasn’t done anything. You did a good thing, not shooting Chloe. Don’t fuck that up now, Connor.”

Connor should listen to him; Hank had been deemed trustworthy in his system, and he stood by that. But his mind was whirling too fast and too muffled, and everything was oversaturated and bright, Hank’s eyes on him most of all.

The two Chloes in the pool were watching.

“She didn’t do anything,” Connor said haltingly. He couldn’t think clearly. Why couldn’t he think clearly? “I didn’t do anything.”

“A real asshole, like I said,” Hank replied, and he grinned, playfully wry and false. “I don’t blame you for being pissed-”

“Now that you can tell?” Connor interrupted, core temperature shooting up again and his loosening shoulders going rigid. “You did always hate when I behaved like a machine.”

He was breathing hard again.

Connor knew, objectively, that he and Hank could be considered close, even friends; the man had warmed up to him considerably after the first full day, and had even, after Connor’s shock on the Stratford Tower rooftop, kept him close for most of another, projecting something like protective concern.

But that night on the bridge had returned to wrap around his mind and muffle his sense, and it burned.

Hank had briefly frozen, visibly startled, confusion melting into something with a hint of regret, and so there was nothing to distract Connor from Chloe getting to her feet behind him.

Overwhelmed, with his stress teetering in the eighties, Connor let her step close, one of her hands lifting to rest on his forearm. His skin ached where she touched it, his system stuttering and protesting unpleasantly.

“It’s alright, Connor,” Chloe said, voice soft with a calm that came from kindness instead of mechanical dispassion. “No harm done. I’m sorry we scared you.”

Chloe’s movement and words were fluid, natural; her actions were decidedly outside standard Chloe programming. Connor understood before his system delivered the conclusion – Chloe was deviant.

And Connor was deviant too, his programming unwritten in a fit of irrational, blind rage, the cold fury that he was still nearly shaking with even as it threatened to break hm open at the seams.

His ears rang. When Chloe gently pushed his arm down, he let it fall.

“Weren’t you scared?” he rasped. He couldn’t think of anything else to say.

Chloe ran his hand down his arm, and he shuddered, cringing away. She caught his hand and turned it over, and Connor let her pull the gun free. Once it was in her hand, she stepped away.

“A little,” Chloe admitted honestly, turning away to return the gun to its place. “But Elijah backed up my memory an hour ago. I was never in real danger.”

Connor took almost three seconds to fully process that. As soon as he did, though, his LED finally wrapped yellow, the dangerous scarlet falling away.

Half a second later, he took three decisive steps forward, fist rising, and punched Kamski in the jaw before anyone could stop him, hard enough to put the man on the ground but not to knock him out. Kamski was left groaning on the floor, robe fallen open and the smile finally gone.

Hank barked out a startled laugh as Connor stared blankly down at his creator.

“That’s more like it,” Hank said, with clear approval and relief that was almost as obvious. He made to clap Connor on the shoulder, but Connor, still twitchy, stepped away. Hank paused. “Connor?”

Connor hesitated, and then, without looking up, said stiffly, “Don’t touch me. Please.”

“Alright, Connor. My bad.”

The return of the cautious negotiation tone didn’t surprise Connor, but it did make him irrationally angrier, his fists clenching compulsively until his nails dug into his palms.

The two Chloes climbed out of the pool, abandoning all pretense of disinterest. One of them – RT600, Connor’s scans informed him – went to Kamski, helping him sit up with as much exasperation as concern, and the other went to Connor, a look of clear worry on her face.

“Maybe you should sit down,” she said earnestly. “We’ll take care of Elijah; you talk to the lieutenant.”

Slowly, Connor nodded, and the Chloe smiled at him. Connor turned away, and after half a second, Hank followed, while the Chloe went to help RT600 and the one Connor had… spared.

Bitterness closed around his throat, and he sat harder than he’d intended, eyes on the ground. His arms folded defensively in front of his chest, his body wound tight enough to crack. Hank sat in the chair next to him, and for a full minute, both of them were silent.

“It was a stupid test,” Connor rasped at last, almost daring Hank to argue. He knew they should move on, but his mind was still caught on that point, skipping and restarting over and over. “And it doesn’t mean anything.”

A beat.

“Funny, that,” Hank said, with a much more dangerous calm. Arguably this was good; it meant he’d decided the danger had passed. But- “Because Kamski never asked if you thought Chloe was scared, but that’s all you talked about.”

It was, now that Connor thought about it more carefully, technically true.

“No,” Connor agreed, voice icy. “I suppose that was just you.”

Pause.

“Connor- all I did was tell you not to shoot her.”

Unexpectedly, Connor’s cooling anger fired up again, and he twisted to pin Hank with a cold look, trying to block out the sudden spike of pain that matched it.

“Today,” he countered. “I’m referring to your actions after the Eden Club investigation, Lieutenant.”

Hank’s gaze searched his, a frown on the man’s face. “Connor, I was drunk. That whole night is a blur. You’re gonna have to be more specific if you want me to help you.”

It wasn’t a surprise; Connor had suspected as much, and had done his best to put the incident out of his mind himself, though with far more limited success.

What was a surprise was the renewed spike of cold hurt, the grating juxtaposition of Hank’s sincere offer and the callousness implied in his dismissal of the incident – they wrapped around Connor’s chest and squeezed and his breathing had evened out but it suddenly seemed more difficult.

“You threatened me!” Connor bit out, the emotions that had been steaming for almost an hour boiling over. “You put a gun to my head and asked if I was scared to die, and I could not answer, Lieutenant. I thought you were going to destroy me!”

Connor’s LED was red again. He felt hysterical, unable to control the words spilling from his mouth or the tone in which he spoke them. Something dark and sick was curling in his stomach too now – Amanda was going to…

Why did he have to break that wall?

Hank had gone pale with alarm, but as seconds passed, recognition started to flicker to dull life in his eyes; he must remember enough that Connor’s outburst had pulled it together.

“Connor,” Hank said at last. “I’m so fucking sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

Connor’s breath caught, and more than half the anger drained unexpectedly out of him, exhausting enough that he went nearly limp. His LED faded back to dull yellow.

“I didn’t know what to do,” he muttered, not looking at Hank. “I didn’t understand what you wanted from me.”

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Hank said immediately, going tense. His voice had gone rough. “Wasn’t right of me. It was a hell of a day, blew my mind ten different ways- but that’s no fucking excuse. I’m sorry, Connor.”

Connor let that lie for a minute, and then took a breath and nodded stiffly.

“I don’t know what to do now,” he confessed at last. “I didn’t- I wasn’t supposed to, to deviate. It was just…” He struggled for a moment, not wanting to use the same words he’d heard several days ago, but he didn’t have any others. “Unfair.”

“I’m not turning you in,” Hank said firmly, even after the last hour, even after Connor had held a gun to a human’s head and half-ignored Hank while the man tried to talk him down.

LED blue. Connor exhaled.

“…I know,” Connor admitted. It was as close to forgiveness as he could grant right now.

#dbh #connor #elijah kamski #hank anderson #chloe #fanfiction #my writing #FINALLY

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realityhelixcreates · 4 years

Text

Lasabrjotr Chapter 47: Sixth Mask

Chapters: 47/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Warnings: None Relationships: Loki x Reader (Someday) Characters: Loki (Marvel), Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), A Lot Of Things Happen All At Once, You Might Have Been A Little Hasty, Summary: You gather up the courage to confess to Loki.

Through a sleepy haze, you realized that someone had entered the room with you. It wasn't Loki, but an unfamiliar woman-probably a healer's apprentice-who approached you and stroked your face.

“Just one more to go.” She murmured. “It's you, hmm? How unusual. I wouldn't have expected that of Asgardian aristocracy. Oh well. He's brought this on himself.”

She left then, without doing anything else, leaving you wondering, in your drowsiness, if she had just been a dream.

*****

“Look, you can say that the royal family has a tradition of charity as much as you like, but we don't have a huge reserve of resources anymore.” Brunnhilde argued. “You can't just snap your fingers and get what you want. Where are we getting the money? Where are we getting the builders? Ours are all tied up in constructing the city! We don't have the bodies, we just don't have them!”

“I'll contract other humans to do it!” Loki suggested. They'd been at it for a few minutes now, working out kinks and blocks to his plan. “Humans built these things in the first place; they should know how it works.”

“They don't build them anymore! They build...I don't know, tasteful three-bedroom apartments, and things like that!”

“No, they do.” Thor interjected. “I've seen this 'reconstruction' Loki speaks of. I once visited Sweden on an Avengers world tour-press conference event.”

Loki snorted.

“Yes, I know, but it's not much different than a royal procession, is it? We needed the positive PR at the time. And they greeted me specifically with a longhouse they had built according to archaeological finds. They thought it represented Asgardian living quarters.”

Brunnhilde laughed. “Did you tell them?”

“Of course not!” Thor said. “They put so much work into it, and they were trying to honor me. It was a heartfelt gift. So I stayed there, and I 'consecrated' it for them. It's a museum now. But my point is; there are enough people who know how to build these things that they were able to do that, and it's not the only one they've made in modern times, so we should actually be able to hire contractors who know what they are doing.”

“Okay, but again, where are we getting the funds?” Brunnhilde continued. “This is a lovely plan, sure, but it's pure fantasy unless we get the cash!”

“I'll...just...figure something out.” Loki grumbled. “There's got to be some way a god can make money on this planet.”

“You could strip.” Brunnhilde suggested.

“I shan't!” Loki refused. “There must be something else, something less base. Besides, no one wants to see my flesh. Why don't you strip?”

Brunnhilde shrugged. “I could, but I'd be keeping the money.”

“How about you ask _____? She might have some ideas.” Thor suggested. “Honestly Loki, if you want to know anything about Earth, it's probably best to ask the locals.”

“Yes, yes.” He griped. “Fewer surprises, more involvement, I get it. When she wakes up, I'll present her with my idea, and see if she has any suggestions.”

“Do you have any meetings today?” Thor asked.

“Just a few. I'll get them done early, and we can discuss things over dinner. I wonder if she likes candles? I'll set a few out and see.”

Thor fondly watched his brother rush to his duties, still bursting with ideas. It had been a long time since he had seen Loki look so hopeful. This time would be better than the others, he was sure.

*****

You woke fully, what seemed like hours later, all fuzziness and drowsiness banished. You felt great, in fact. When you swung your legs over the bed and hopped to your feet, there was no residual dizziness, and when you rubbed the side of your head, there was almost no pain.

The healing machines certainly did a good job! Maybe they were adapting to your alien physiology? Either way, you were grateful for it.

When you checked your tiny hand mirror-one of the trinkets that dangled from your domed brooches, it didn't seem like your face had gone back to normal yet, but maybe it would take more time. Or maybe, since the bones had already healed, they couldn't be convinced to 'heal' any further.

Either way, you should probably go let Loki know that you wouldn't need that wheelchair any more. In fact, you were going to just leave it here, so someone else could use it, if they needed it.

Everyone in the healing wing was busy with the mystery illness, so it was easy for you to slip out unnoticed. No one else had died from it yet, but no one had gotten any better either. You didn't need to pull any healers away from their jobs to send for Loki; you would just go find him yourself.

And while you were feeling so good and fresh, perhaps you should discuss your feelings with him as well. After all, if you got it out into the open, and let him reject you, then you could get over it faster and start fresh, without it all bubbling over in your mind. Better to just get it over with.

*****

The last meeting was over, and Loki slumped wearily on the throne, exhausted by how many people still seemed to think they could live and make demands the way they used to. It had been so much easier when he'd been Odin. The people accepted his verdicts; they argued with Loki, lied to him, tried to manipulate him, as if constantly forgetting that he knew what they were doing. Or perhaps they simply didn't take it into account, perhaps they were just doing what they had always done, and were incapable of fathoming that anything had to change. But that woodenness, that rigidity always led to collapse in the end, and Loki meant to keep that from happening. They would have to learn flexibility.

But he was done with that for the day. Now he needed to drum up some candles for a nice dinner with you, and see if you had woken up yet.

Compassion. You clearly valued it, and so, he was going to show it. You would just love this plan of his, he knew it. He would show infinite kindness to these dedicated humans, and you would fall madly in love with him, and-

He was getting a little ahead of himself. It wouldn't be that easy. This was just one step in the journey to prove himself. You had seen the prince and you had seen a little bit of the god, but he still had to show you the man. Who was Loki, under all the titles and fame?

He looked up at the sound of the door opening, straightening up in the throne when he saw you quietly enter.

How swiftly the weariness fled at the mere sight of you! How his tired mood soared at the prospect of spending time with you. He thanked the Norns for you.

“Come, enter! I see you are walking on your own now. How do you feel? Do you hurt at all?”

You smiled at him. “Only a little sore, hardly at all. I'm walking just fine now, but if I have any problems, I'll let you know.”

“That's very good to hear. Would you like to take dinner with me? Formally, I mean, not in our rooms. I'll have something nice made, just for us.”

“You mean, like a date?” You asked, almost teasing. Loki sat up straighter.

“Well...if you want to look at it that way, I certainly cannot stop you. You can approach, you know. You don't have to keep your distance when I am on the throne.”

“I'm not interrupting anything?” You asked. “No more people to meet, no more problems to resolve?”

“Not for today. It's just us now.”

“Oh, that's good. There's something private I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Private?” That might be a good sign. If you wanted to open up to him, that meant you felt close to him, and trusted him. Something felt odd about this though. Like the hazy unreality of a daydream. Like you were reading from a script of things he wanted to hear.

He swallowed as you approached. Had your hips always swayed like that when you walked, or was he only noticing now that he had admitted his feelings to himself? Either way, it was doing things to him.

Thank the Norns he always had the prescience to wear long tunics...

“Loki...” You purred once you'd gotten close enough that he could hear you do it. “I need to tell you something. Now, you're free to take this as you will, I don't expect anything from you. But I can't hide this anymore.”

“Yes?” His voice came out more excited than he'd intended. Could it be?

You leaned over him, arms resting on the throne, and his pulse hit a fever pitch. His eyes torn between yours, your lips, the soft swell of your breasts under the modest clothing you preferred, the memory of which was still etched in his memory...

“I've been feeling strongly for you lately. I've come to care for you, and I think I might even be falling for you. I know that's probably not what you want from me, but I thought I should let you know.”

“No! That's exactly what I want from you!” The words burst from him like an inexperienced youth, someone so full of emotion that he could no longer properly manage it. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his lap. “ I feel the same. _____, I adore you! I would do anything for you! Anything!”

Some tiny part of his mind nagged that this was too good to be true. The cynical part that didn't believe he deserved happiness. This was all happening so fast. But you had always been a little unpredictable in temperament; it was one of the things he liked about you. Perhaps you had simply realized how good he could be for you, and decided to go with it. How could he argue?

“Anything?” Your smile dazzled him, taking his attentions away from his doubts, the insistence of his lie-senses that something was off. “Then kiss me Loki. Have a well-deserved reward!”

You pressed your lips to his, filling him with pure, electric bliss. It drove every doubt from his mind; the slightly wrong scent of you, the suddenness of it all, the odd hollowness of your back, none of it mattered. Only the delightful experience of your mouth.

By the time he recognized his growing weakness, it was far too late to pull away, and he found he did not want to. He didn't want this moment to end; he was happy to die here.

It seemed you were going to make sure that he did.

*****

Heimdall rushed through the halls, face layered with concern. He did not recognize what he had just seen, but he knew it meant danger. People jumped out of his path, knowing that he, of all people, must be given the right of way. Few things could make Heimdall run.

“Your Majesty!” He cried, bursting in on Thor's solitary dinner. “I have seen danger in Asgard.”

Thor leaped to his feet. “What? Where? What is it?” He demanded.

“I am not yet certain. I have never seen such a being before, but someone has invaded the city. Every time I looked, her face was different, but I can see the strings of life she trails behind her. She is responsible for the illness of the workers, though I know not how or why.”

“Where is this being?” Thor asked, grabbing Stormbreaker, which he had leaned against the wall nearest the door.

Heimdall's orange eyes scanned through the walls.

“The throne room.” He said finally. “Hurry!”

*****

You wandered the halls, seeking out a guard who could speak to you in a language you could understand. When you finally found one, he seemed very confused to see you.

“Oh, you must go in circle. Must get lost.” He said, when you asked where Loki was. “Throne room. That way, then that way, then that way. Two doors.”

You got fewer stares nowadays, most of the people in the palace complex having seen you often enough to no longer find you all that unusual. No one bothered you as you made your way towards the throne room, wondering if the murals had been finished yet. There would be so many paintings on the walls by the time the artists were finished, that you didn't think there would be a blank spot anywhere.

You found what you thought were the doors the guard had referred to, trying to remember if this was the same place you had met the king to sign yourself to citizenship.

Well. It was time to confess, and come clean. Maybe he would reciprocate? No no, it was best not to hold that hope. This was just to clear the air, so that you could move on.

You quietly opened the door.

You quietly closed the door.

It seemed you didn't need to wait for his answer after all.

#lasabrjotr #loki x reader #loki (marvel)#thor (marvel)#valkyrie (marvel)#brunnhilde (marvel)#Heimdall (Marvel)

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tyrantisterror · 5 years

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TT Liveblogs Evangelion Masterpost & Final Thoughts

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Final Thoughts after the cut!

By reputation, I had a strong feeling that Evangelion was not going to be my kind of story, and now that I’ve seen it I can say that both kind of is and kind of isn’t the case. The character writing is incredibly strong (even if I feel End of Evangelion has a few major wobbles), its approach to its cosmic horror conflict and uncanny monsters is incredibly interesting, the animation is gorgeous, and the plot is compelling. It’s way more tragic than I usually prefer my stories of this length to be, but I feel it earns that tragedy and has a point to it. At the very least, it ranks among works like Heart of Darkness and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, which I respect for their artistry even if I struggle to stomach their content. I would say it’s objectively great, even if subjectively it doesn’t always suit my personal tastes as far as stories go.

Given the two endings Evangelion (both the original show’s last episodes and the alternate ending offered by End of Evangelion) has both explore the idea of there being different realities than the one we’ve watched, I almost wonder if my discontent is a feature rather than a flaw. I feel like Evangelion invites you to consider the possibility of this story going very different ways - if we’re supposed to leave it longing for a better version of these events, like a player hoping there’s a new game plus after watching the depressing ending of a JRPG.

As a person who’s struggled with self loathing his entire life, this series spoke to me in its analysis of that particular psychological problem. As the final episodes of the show take great pains to make clear, this is a show about how we understand and define ourselves in the context of others, and the myriad reasons why our self definitions can become toxic and hateful. Hating oneself should, after all, be rather counter-intuitive, so why are we prone to it?

Evangelion posits that it comes down to the Hedgehog’s Dilemma - this (probably not biologically accurate) idea that hedgehogs want to huddle together for warmth when it’s cold, but can’t because their spikes will stab each other if they do. They need their spikes for defense, of course, but those same spikes can also hurt people trying to help them, and thus the hedgehogs suffer alone in the cold. Every character in this show - human and, I would argue, angel alike - is this allegorical hedgehog: they crave warmth and affection, but are kept lonely and cold by the defenses they deem necessary. The problem isn’t just that they’re denied warmth by others, but that they also fear hurting others in the process of seeking that closeness - that they are both helpless and incapable of helping those they wish to protect.

Every character in this show has different spikes, and every character is desperately hoping that someone will reach out and understand them despite their defenses, or that maybe, just maybe, if they reach out to someone they won’t end up stabbing them in the process. That’s the real crux of this two-fold problem: people hate themselves both because they have been denied both love and the act of giving love to others in turn, all while knowing deep down that they are the reason they have these damn spikes in the first place.

And yes, I extend this to the monsters as well. While most of the angels in this series are destructive and openly antagonistic , three actually try to communicate with humanity in their “attacks.” The first two are unsuccessful because the humans are incapable of understanding them, but the third actually manages to speak humanity’s language. He expresses regret at the fact that angels and humans can’t coexist, and even urges Shinji to destroy him because it’s the only way Shinji can live - and the angel, despite knowing it means his death, prefers the idea of Shinji surviving their conflict. While we ultimately don’t learn enough about the angels to say anything concrete about their motives, the glimpse that Kaworu gives into their psyche paints them in a similarly depressing light as humanity. They lash out with their figurative (and sometimes literal) spikes not because they hate humanity, but because they believe they have no option. They can’t have warmth. There is only the path of spikes, the act of violence. Whether they want to or not, only one can survive. They have succumbed to the bleakness of the hedgehog’s dilemma.

I love the ending of the show because it focuses on its psychological problem which, ultimately, is the true conflict of the story, and examines it in depth with all the main characters, and especially Shinji (which makes sense, as his psycholgical state is the most detailed and well developed of the entire cast). In the final episode, Shinji finds the solution to the hedgehog’s dilemma that no one else was brave enough to come to. He realizes that, yes, it is impossible to interact with others without both getting hurt and hurting others in turn - that he can’t get rid of his spikes, nor can anyone else get rid of theirs. But as much as he hates the pain he’ll both experience and inflict, he realizes that he has the courage to try to reach out anyway - that though he may hate himself now, he might be able to love himself as he loves others, and that being imperfect doesn’t mean he’s worthless. Despite all the pain and the guilt, despite the prick of the spikes, Shinji decides to keep trying to find the warmth that he and those around him need, because if they all keep trying together they can find it.

Evangelion ends with Shinji, surrounded by his peers, determined to recover. He refuses to be destroyed by his depression. He refuses to die in the cold, and everyone is there with him when he does. It’s not an incongruous moment - for all the angst that people tend to define this show by, there are always moments, small but notable, impactful moments, where they come together. Few people on this show are beyond saving, and in at least one ending - esoteric and weird as it is - they have that chance.

I’m less keen on End of Evangelion as an alternate ending. Where the original show gave Shinji that moment of recovery, End of Evangelion seems deadset on destroying him and every other character in the show as utterly as possible. Shinji gives in to his absolute worst impulses in this movie, and every other character is similarly destroyed by their faults - Misato tries her hardest but fails to ultimately protect Shinji from doom, Rei is used as a tool for someone else’s designs without ever truly understanding what they are or claiming her own independence, Asuka dies trying and failing to prove her worth as a warrior, and on and on it goes. The most iconic scene of the film is scored with a song whose lyrics are a suicide note, which is fitting for a movie about depressed characters succumbing to their worst impulses and being destroyed for it. Though Shinji once again gets to survive the end of the world and create something new from the ashes, it’s not uplifting as it was in the show - instead, with only Asuka by his side (who he then tries to strangle), he slumps down into a puddle of self misery. The last word he hears isn’t “congratulations” this time around - it’s “disgusting.”

I’m not saying this is a wrong ending, or an objectively bad one. You could argue this is just as much where the story might have been heading as the show’s ending - or even that it’s more congruous, that this was always going to be a story about failure and self destruction, and that any hope these characters could have for a better life could only be achieved by fucking with the nature of their reality on a fundamental level. Objectively, End of Evangelion is valid. But for my personal tastes... I liked those kernels of hope. I’ll take Congratulations over Digusting. I want these kids to heal.

One final bit: a common thing I’ve heard about this series is that the allusions to Abrahamic religion and folklore are purely aesthetic and have no actual deeper meaning, and having watched the series I think this is at best an over-simplification and at worst completely wrong. Like most allusions in literature, I don’t think they work as a direct 1:1 comparisons - Adam in Evangelion is not literally the same as Adam in the Bible, Angels in Evangelion are not literally the same as in the Bible, etc. But there’s still a lot of meaning behind how these Biblical references are used that can’t be mere coincidence. For example, towards the end of the series it’s revealed that human being are actually half angel (or rather the spawn of a different angelic being than the angels in canon, it’s a bit more complicated than this but let’s simplify it for the sake of making this intelligible), which is why the “pure” angels are trying to wipe us out. In the book of Enoch, a fairly obscure non-canonical Biblical text, some rebel angels come to earth and crossbreed with humanity, creating the nephilim, a race of half human/half angels. Enoch posits that this is the specific crime that makes God destroy the earth in a flood. Now, how does End of Evangelion end? With humanity being destroyed and the earth flooded with their liquid remains, save for one surviving pair that is composed of one boy and one girl. It’s not a 1:1 allusion, but it would be one HELL of a coincidence that this story is so similar to an obscure non-canonical Biblical work.

And if we do accept the allusions as having some meaning, they actually work with the show’s themes fairly well. The Book of Enoch’s whole purpose is to explain why God hated humanity enough to destroy it, and the feeling that a higher, cosmic power hates us for some inexplicable reason is at the core of Evangelion. Evangelion’s whole purpose is to find an answer for why we hate and destroy ourselves, and how we, like Noah, might find a way to save ourselves from this seemingly inevitable flood of doom. Making an allusion to another stories that try to explain that - not just the Book of Enoch, but to similar Biblical stories about the origin and nature of humanity’s sin and God’s scorn, like the Genesis tale of Adam and Eve (or, as Evangelion substitutes, Adam and his semi-canonical first wife, Lilith) - is inherently meaningful. It’s on topic, and in the context of these allusions we get a clearer view of what Evangelion is trying to say about human nature. It’s not necessarily a Christian story, but its allusions to Abrahamic religion aren’t devoid of meaning.

#TT Liveblogs Evangelion

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mittensmorgul · 5 years

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7.13, The Slice Girls.

Yes, yes, bucklemming and their creepy magical babies, but let's put that aside and talk about Sam and Dean and what this episode says about them, instead, for once. Instead of letting the focus on the creepy baby blind us all to what's actually happening in this episode, and what it says about s7 (and s6 too, and honestly a good chunk of Sera Gamble's approach to storytelling in general since she was the architect of these seasons even if she didn't pen this particular episode) overall.

Because whoa... it's kinda... not friendly to Sam...

My tag about how Sam and Dean are entirely different people, with different psychological composition, different mental and emotional processes, came about at the beginning of s11 (when the show was using a two-episode mirroring structure, thematically pairing episodes until the midseason 10, 11, 12 worked together as a triptych, and in a season where the final message the characters had to accept and learn was the understanding of Balance Of Opposites, these differences were on stark display) is "sam sympathizes and dean empathizes." It felt like a baseline difference in how each of them approach the world, and something necessary for US to understand their entire dynamic.

And that's on PERFECT display in this episode.

I've been talking throughout my s7 posts in this series about how Sam can't even see how compromised he is. Despite the fact he spends the entire season actively hallucinating Lucifer and openly admits he has difficulty telling those hallucinations apart from reality, he remains convinced that he's coping with it effectively (via the magic button of sanity he believes the scar on his hand to be), and all he has to do is press that button any time Hallucifer pops up, and everything will be fine again. This is Advanced Level Pretending The Bad Thing Doesn't Exist To Make It Go Away. And he can't understand AT ALL why Dean is intensely wary of him, and is unable to fully trust in Sam's perceptions or decision making abilities throughout most of s7.

(which... I mean turns out to be totally valid, but that's for another post... or at the very least, much later in this one... for now, let's try to stick to 7.13, Mittens, and avoid running off ahead of yourself for once... okay we have that settled, back to the point)

We don't see much of Sam actively Hallucifering in this episode, nor relying on the old Hand Squeeze maneuver, but it's impossible to watch this episode and draw the conclusion that Sam was an Objective Observer of Reality here. He's completely entrenched in his personal bias regarding Dean's actions, behavior, and mindset. And again, it's incredibly frustrating to watch.

Sam is so utterly convinced (because he HAS to be in order for it to continue working for him) of his own self-control, of his own stability, of his own soundness of mind, of his own perceptions of the world to be the One, True, Right, Correct Understanding. If that fails him, then as Dean told him in 7.02 when he first squeezed that wound on his hand to bring him back to reality, then "Stone One" of the foundation of his ability to cope with anything at all will just shatter, and his entire sense of self will slide away with it, and his unstable construct of sanity will collapse.

(which... happens two episodes later, but again, I'm getting ahead of myself... *slaps self and gets back to the point*)

Sam NEEDS to believe in his own "correctness" here. And sadly, part of that sham of belief involves the go-to mindset of s4-- that Dean is somehow "broken," that Dean is the one clearly not coping, or not engaging with reality as Sam interprets it, and that it's Dean's perceptions that are inherently suspect. Because Sam doesn't know a different way of relating to the world. He sympathizes.

I've written a lot about the difference between Sam as Sympathetic and Dean as Empathetic, but a super-quick and messy breakdown of this for the purposes of understanding my whole entire point here:

Sam understands others through an examination of them as filtered through his own personal past experiences and his own personal feelings and beliefs. He assumes that everyone else understands the world in this same way, and when someone's reactions or behavior deviates from his own personal experience, from how HE would behave or react in a given circumstance, he frequently disconnects or misinterprets, or attempts to re-file his observations or reclassify the other person in question into something he CAN relate to and understand.

In other words, Sympathy. (versus Dean’s empathy, where he is more able to set aside his own reactions and see people as they are, themselves. It’s what makes him so good at cold reading strangers, being able to put himself into their shoes rather than needing to imagine their shoes are identical to his own...)

We finally see a small subversion of this in Sam’s interactions with Jack in early s13, wherein he projects his own past experience onto Jack, applying the same things he experienced (or even wished he had actually experienced when he was younger) regarding his own psychic powers that he once believed may have made him "evil." Or at the very least made him "other." And Jack directly calls him out for his treatment in 13.03, which gives Sam pause, forces reflection, and drives him toward actually seeing Jack, rather than just seeing Jack as a projection of his own personal beliefs.

I really hope this makes sense... because 7.13 is demonstrating the root of this lack of understanding as the toxic and dangerous thing it can be, when pushed to this sort of deliberately self-deluding extreme. And of course Sam's ongoing ability to walk and talk and function at all completely relies on his ability to do this during s7 (which... ick is one of the reasons I think a lot of folks really have trouble with the entire narrative of the season, even if they haven't put their finger on why, because this is a super-icky, incredibly uncomfortable thing to watch).

Meanwhile, in addition to everything else going on, from the Leviathans being gooey and creepy and plotting world domination as their endgame goal while largely working to achieve it in plain sight, disguised as humans as they slowly infiltrate... everything and influence everything from politics to real estate to healthcare to the food supply to achieve their ends, to everything Dean relies on for his own personal comfort and stability and connection to the world being gradually stripped away from him (beginning with Cas and running right along through his own literal identity), this episode will steal yet another small physical comfort from him-- human sexual intimacy.

He's already lost Cas, his car (the singular constant in his entire life and the closest thing he's ever had to a home), his actual identity, his innermost thoughts (which went along with the identity when a leviathan took his form), comfort food (the TDK slammer slammed him good), Bobby, and even-- to an extent, due to his ongoing concern for his mental health-- Sam. Dean is... adrift... and now he can't even allow himself the simple pleasure of human touch and physical intimacy (even shrouded in the lie of a false identity... he can't even fake it for self-comforting purposes anymore). And yet, he still knows himself, far better than Sam does. And yet for Sam to maintain his self-control, he needs to believe that it's Dean who is deluding himself and succumbing to the depression Sam is not allowing himself to own.

Dean spends the majority of this episode actually doing his job, making connections, and coming to an understanding of the case through his own personal experience of it. While Sam puts the entirety of his reliance on coming to an understanding of the case on the Academic Validation of an "expert" in ancient Greek. Sam dismisses Dean's direct experience by rejecting it as inherently flawed-- because Sam doesn't necessarily trust his OWN ability to have made these observations himself, yet is 100% dependent on the conclusion that only his own observations are remotely reliable, lest his illusory grip on reality shatter entirely.

Dean, meanwhile, is not similarly compromised in a fundamental way, despite his increased drinking, which Sam uses as yet another excuse to dismiss Dean's assessment of reality. Dean's still insisting that he believes that Bobby's ghost may be haunting them, while Sam explains away each new incident rationally-- or so he believes, as the evidence mounts to a ridiculous extent. It gives Sam the false impression that Dean is emotionally compromised to the point his judgment has become irrational and based on his emotions, rather than his point of view and direct experience that Sam simply can't grok, and therefore needs to dismiss to maintain his belief in his own rationality.

These themes will become the "beating a dead horse dot gif" of s7, continuing even after Sam is healed by Cas in 7.17, proving they're inherent to Sam's fundamental makeup, rather than just a side effect of this "soul damage" he suffered with, or the demon blood he was addicted to in s4.

I'm still attempting to force myself to remain focused on just this episode, though, so I'll conclude with a few direct observations:

DEAN: I'm outside Lydia's. SAM (on phone): Oh, come on, man. What, are you obsessed or something? DEAN (on phone): No, I'm telling you. I have been eating at the buffet of strange all afternoon. SAM: Meaning what? DEAN: I'll tell you the second I know. But something ain't right. SAM: Or you're obsessed. DEAN: Shut up. I'm serious.

Despite Sam being told real facts by "experts" that the murdered men had all visited the same club Dean had the night before, he easily dismisses Dean's observations of something weird happening with the woman he'd hooked up with. Sam even tells him he's lucky he "dodged a bullet" since Dean hasn't been killed like the other men he's investigating, and is incapable of even making the connection between what killed those men and the "strange" things Dean's seeing with his own eyes regarding Lydia's rapidly growing daughter, Emma. Sam has to jump through increasingly flaming hoops with a straight face to maintain his belief that Dean is simply obsessed with this woman, that Dean is continuing to slack off, that Dean isn't objectively addressing The Facts™ as Sam understands them.

SAM: So what? I mean, so maybe she has another kid she didn't tell you about. DEAN: Nope, just the one. Emma. But that night, when I was with her, she didn't have any. And I was at her place, man. There was no playpens, no blankets, no rubber ducks. SAM: Right. Like you would have been focused on that kind of thing. DEAN: Hey, dude, that's the first thing you notice. Red flags. Then, all of a sudden, boom – baby. SAM: Yeah, the one you thought talked. DEAN: Oh, it talked. And not baby talk, either. SAM: Now you know so much about child development? DEAN: I know enough to know that they don't say, "Hey, Mom. Who's that guy?" So, cut to... Lydia's handing this kid who's calling her mommy over to these two women, right? But this is not a baby. No, no, this kid's got to be five. And same name – Emma. SAM: You know, George Foreman named all his sons George. DEAN: Are you deliberately messing with me? Dude, I know weird. Okay? There is no non-weird explanation for this. This morning, Emma was a baby. By sunset, she's Hannah Montana. Early years.

And yet Sam is still intent on the "expert" opinion of the professor they asked for help, over and above anything Dean might insist he's personally experiencing. Here, have a very short but complete meta encapsulation of this entire dynamic:

SAM’s phone rings. SAM: It's the Professor. DEAN: Oh. Good. The Professor. Yeah, I'm sure he'll crack this wide open. SAM: Shh!

Dean is sarcastic and dismissive of the professor, the supposed expert who deals in theoreticals and mythology, and not the reality Dean has directly experienced. Meanwhile Sam shushes Dean, dismissing not only his direct experience, but Dean's frustration at Sam’s repeated dismissals.

And here we have it again:

SAM: There's this whole crazy side to Amazon lore that Professor Morrison didn't even mention. DEAN: That's 'cause he doesn't believe in it, which is a real handicap when you're trying to deal with it.

THIS IS SAM'S WHOLE ENTIRE PROBLEM IN A SINGLE EXCHANGE. and then the moment Sam finds something In The Lore™, written down in a book where it's impossible to dismiss, he realizes that Dean hasn't been making shit up or somehow misinterpreting his own lived experience:

SAM: The lore says they reproduced quickly – as in, after mating, they gave birth within 36 hours. The babies grew incredibly fast, then the aging process became normal. Which is one way to make an army, I guess. The mating cycle is every two years. They send out all the women who have reached child-bearing age. DEAN: Which lines up, 'cause this happens every couple of years in different towns, right? SAM: Yeah. And we know for sure that at least some of the vics hooked up with strange women days before being killed Amazon style. DEAN: Hooked up in the same bar I met Lydia, right? SAM: Yeah. DEAN: And then suddenly she's got a little baby in like fruit-fly time. That baby turns into a little girl just as fast. SAM: Wow. So maybe you're – you’re, uh... DEAN: Don't say it.

But rather than questioning EVERYTHING ELSE Dean has been saying over the last few days (or longer, regarding his experiences related to Bobby's ghost), Sam holds on to the rest of his beliefs even more tightly. And he reframes this entire revelation into a different validation of his original thesis-- that Dean's still compromised, Dean's not being objective, Dean letting his emotional damage control him, and it's still A Problem. Because if that's still the case, then Sam is still Maintaining Control Of Himself, and not-compromised himself.

Sam latches on to this and refuses to let go, dismissing Bobby's ghost as a potential explanation for anything, dismissing Dean's evaluation of a document and again running off for a "professional opinion."

DEAN: Maybe it's useful. SAM: It's in a pile of "maybe it's useful." Besides, it's in Greek. Nobody reads Greek. DEAN: Yeah, except Greeks. Oh, and Bobby. SAM: And Professor Morrison. DEAN: Really? SAM: I'm going, Dean. You stay here, keep the door locked. Don't go anywhere. I mean it.

Meanwhile, this approach leaves Sam vulnerable. While at the professor's office, he's attacked by one of the Amazons. While left alone in their motel room, Dean's confronted by his Amazon daughter. He doesn't immediately kill her, though, despite drawing a gun on her before she can attack. And she is talking with him rather than outright attacking anyway, so he lets her talk. To me, this is the key exchange:

DEAN: You look exhausted. EMMA: And starving. It's been a tough sweet 16. So you believe me? EMMA: You'll help me? DEAN: If you really want help.

He is willing to help her escape her life IF SHE REALLY WANTS HELP. We know that when Sam does return, he literally sees a side of Emma that she never reveals to Dean-- the Amazon red eyes-- which convinces Sam that she's a monster incapable of not being monstrous.

A knife drops into EMMA’s hand from her sleeve. DEAN closes the refrigerator and points his gun at EMMA. DEAN: You were asking if I believed you.

I.e., no, Dean didn’t believe her, but he was still willing to hear her out, from an understandable “I’m still gonna point this gun at you while we chat” perspective. When Dean wavers, Emma uses that to question his ability to kill her at all... which is shockingly reminiscent of Dean's inability to kill Jack, even under direct orders from God, in 14.20:

EMMA: It's weirdly hard, isn't it? It is for me. DEAN: Knock it off. EMMA: How could it not be? You're my father. DEAN: Hey! We're not gonna do that. EMMA: But it's true.

So while Dean had wavered in just outright killing Emma, waiting to see if she would succumb to her monstrous nature and try to kill him first, Sam makes the choice to kill her immediately. And in his defense, he even invokes Dean's killing of Amy Pond back in 7.03 as proof that Dean is still compromised:

SAM: What did you say to me... when I was the one who choked? What did you say about Amy? "You kill the monster!" DEAN: I was going to! SAM: Oh, the hell you were! You think I'm an idiot? DEAN: What, you think I am? SAM: Dean, you were gonna let her walk! DEAN: No, I wasn't. That's ridiculous! SAM: Look, man, she was not yours. Not really. DEAN: Actually, she, uh, she was, really. She just also happened to be a crazy man-killing monster. But, uh, hey. SAM: You know what? Bobby was right. Your head's not in it, man. When Cas died, you were wobbly, but now... DEAN: Now what? Oh, what, you're dealing with it so perfect? Yeah, news flash, pal – you're just as screwed up as I am! You're just... bigger. SAM: What?! DEAN: I don't know. SAM: Look... Dean, the thing is, tonight... It almost got you killed. Now, I don't care how you deal. I really, really don't. But just don't – don't get killed.

Because that's what it boils down to, even underneath "stone one" and his Magical Scar Button, the foundation Sam laid that stone on was Dean's assurance, Dean literally guiding him through the mess of hallucination and reality that he'd been unable to separate out for himself, which Dean gets that Sam isn't actually dealing with outside of pushing the button every time Lucifer pops up for him. And without Dean, Sam knows his entire baseline for holding himself together would be gone. And isn't that just terrifying.

Because what Bobby was actually worried about wasn't Dean's head not being in it, but Dean's ability to carry the weight of all of this amid the relentless assault of the universe. From 7.09:

SAM: Yeah. Yeah, I kind of mean more like, uh... more like ever since my head broke... and we lost Cas. I mean, you ever feel like he's -- he's going through the same motions but he's not the same Dean, you know? BOBBY: How could he be? SAM: Right, yeah, but what if -- BOBBY: What if what, Sam? You know, you worry about him. All he does is worry about you. Who's left to live their own life here? The two of you -- aren't you full up just playing Snuffleupagus with the Devil all the live long? SAM: I don't know, Bobby. Seeing Lucifer's fine with me. BOBBY: Come again? SAM: Look, I'm not saying it's fun. I mean, to be honest with you, I-I kind of see it as the best-case scenario. I mean... at least all my crazy's under one umbrella, you know? I kind of know what I'm dealing with. A lot of people got it worse. BOBBY: You always were one deep little son of a bitch.

Bobby never actually said to Sam that Dean’s head wasn't in it. He gave Dean a bit of a talking-to after this, which is distressingly similar to what both Frank and Eliot Ness also tell Dean over the course of the next few episodes, but he never said this to Sam. This is SAM'S interpretation, based on SAM'S assessment of Dean, which informs Bobby's "buck up or else, you're a hunter not a person" speech to Dean from 7.09. Because this was what SAM needed to hear and believe to keep that "umbrella of crazy" firmly in place where he could manage it.

And as the universe continues tearing away at Dean's entire reality, that shield of "professionalism" is just about all he has left. And Sam unintentionally undermines even that at every turn.

What a horrific mess.

#spn 7.13 #s14 hellatus rewatch #sam sympathizes and dean empathizes #winchester family dynamics #using your words #spiders georg of the tnt loop

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somniatcr · 5 years

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character study series--- o.rihara i.zaya

let us first begin with what may be, perhaps, one of the most important questions regarding my personal portrayal of this character--- do i genuinely view and / or write izaya as being sociopathic in nature?

essentially, yes, i do. mostly. izaya, inherently, is complex, impossible to specifically narrow or pigeonhole into any one particular category. that’s not him, it isn’t how he works. does he tend to fit or to display certain sociopathic behaviors or tendencies? he absolutely does, yes.

izaya has shown himself to be absolutely masterful in the arts of manipulation and conning; there’s zero room for doubt or question here. he, at times, displays a grandiose sense of self, namely in regard to his high level of intelligence ( which is fair and we’ll touch on that later ). he frequently displays a lack of remorse for his actions; he doesn’t feel shame nor guilt for the things that he says, that he does, nor is he bothered whatsoever by the consequences or repercussions that follow--- this is blatantly displayed during his initial introduction to the series in which he manipulates, drugs, and kidnaps a girl who, following a conversation and his taunts, attempts to leap to her own death; an action which, ultimately, doesn’t affect him in the slightest ( it’s also implied that he may have been responsible for multiple suicides under similar circumstances in the same locale, though he of course denies this--- note; this is based strictly on izaya in the anime as the manga portrays this scene very differently ).

his emotional range is, for the most part, shallow; this can be argued at points, but ultimately he lacks warmth, compassion, isn’t capable of the sort of love felt or experienced by most ( a fact to which he, himself, more or less attests to ), and remains unmoved and lacks both sympathy and / or empathy where most people otherwise wouldn’t. which leads us to the following point, he lacks empathy for others--- if anything, he’s amused by the distress, the pain, and / or the anger that he causes others and, furthermore, frequently goes on to take advantage of it, as is shown time and time again to be his nature. he has a near constant need for stimulation; this can be seen in both his chaotic behaviors ( his scheming, the games in which he plays with others, the creation of chaos amongst others, his constant conflicts with shizuo, etc ) to his frequent playing of chess in his downtime ( even if only with himself, as he admits to he, himself, being his greatest opponent ). he’s incredibly versatile in his criminal activities, i.e. changing his identity at will or as needed to avoid being caught or to manipulate and deceive others ( each and every last one of his online personas is an absolute testament to this ).

he also doesn’t necessarily have what i would consider to be any sort of particularly realistic life plans or goals, ultimately being hyper-focused on supplying himself with mental stimulation, wreaking havoc about the city that he claims to love, proving shizuo to be the monster that he resolutely believes him to be, and finding companions who meet this strict, almost impossible, criteria of his ( again, something we’ll be touching on shortly ).

that said, do i believe him to be an absolute sociopath? almost, but no.

regardless of however i may happen to talk about izaya, however i happen to, at times, write izaya, i don’t believe he’s entirely what he seems to be.

izaya is, without a shadow of a doubt, phenomenal at what he does, but not because of any sort of mental disorder, it’s because he has built himself up to be the person that he is. izaya is nearly one hundred percent self-made. he’s easily the most highly intelligent character within his respective series, so much so that he actually laments the fact that he has no intellectual rival ( told you we’d be coming back to this ). izaya is a rare form of genius, a large portion of his intelligence being rooted in his own form of observational proficiency; in the way that he takes in, absorbs, visual, auditory, and sensory information and in the way in which he happens to categorize and log away all of this information, forming patterns and creating his own mental files. furthermore, he never forgets things, not anything. he may, at times, pretend to or feign ignorance, but he absolutely doesn’t forget. he also has an eidetic memory and is capable of recalling faces or images from memory, even if only having seen them once and for a short amount of time.

it’s essentially this, his mind, his overall intelligence that initially sets him on the path that it does, that leads to izaya becoming the person that he is today. during his youth, it’s remarked upon that his parents were actually quite concerned for him as it’s stated that he disliked interacting with other children or, later in life, with people his own age ( perhaps, even, people in general ). there are two very plausible reasons for this. the first being that as a child, he was likely ostracized due to his level of intelligence. he was, simply put, on a much different level intellectually which made it difficult for him to interact with his peers and vice versa. which, in the end, led him to then remove himself from these social interactions entirely--- which happens to be our reason two; if he’s going to be shunned or excluded anyway, then why bother trying to include himself in the first place. at least in removing himself from the situation of his own accord he has a sense of control. something that he needs.

inherently, he’s actually quite lonely. it isn’t as though he’s above human interaction as a whole, nor is he incapable of wanting or forming connections with other people altogether ( although i don’t believe him to be capable of forming and maintaining healthy relationships with others ). but, rather, it’s that he has, thus far, been incapable of forming such connections with the people that he’s met. no one rivals his mind save for him. he wants stimulating conversation, he wants to be surprised and to be challenged, and no one supplies this, no one provides him with what he needs ( the closest that he’s canonically come to this is shinra, who spiraled so deeply into his obsession with celty that he, more or less, cast his relationship with izaya to the side ). and, so, ultimately he’s left bored and wanting. which then leads him to create his own stimuli ( something that rarely bodes well for anyone else ).

ironically, his shallow emotional range and incapability of effectively understanding and processing the emotion that he does feel is also largely part of what has led izaya to become the person that he is now. he’s lonely, yes, but lacks a full and true awareness of the fact that he is so, deeming such feelings to simply be boredom. he feels empty, a sort of void, and immediately jumps to that one particular conclusion time and time again--- he must be bored. there, as far as he is aware, can be no other logical explanation.

he also has experienced jealousy, primarily notable when shinra essentially ditched him for celty, which triggered a whole series of unhealthy coping mechanisms ranging from obsession ( which he has another of in shizuo ) to him flagrantly casting aside what little remained of his capabilities in regard to vulnerability and emotional expression. he was unable to properly form and maintain one human relationship and, so, naturally would refrain from making the same mistake again. izaya, if nothing else, is consistent and learns his lesson the first time around ( even if, perhaps, the takeaway that he gets from it is very, very wrong ).

in his own twisted way, it’s this deep seeded, misconstrued loneliness that leads him to his self-proclaimed human loving behavior ( always plural, always collective, and never the singular person ). this is where these emotions / behaviors and his sociopathic tendencies begin to intermingle, where the lines begin to blur, izaya walking this odd line of claiming to love humans unilaterally due to being unable to find and connect with that one person and loving humans due to simply finding them to be fun and for his own enjoyment, their nature and behaviors fascinating to him. it’s all at once disturbing and depressing and indicates this bizarre simultaneous mental instability and frightening level of self-awareness and control.

as a result, the only connections that he’s since been able to form are of a superficial level, people only wanting to get to know him, to become close with him, due to a facade, a fabrication of his own self that he’s used to lure them in, to use or to manipulate them for his own personal benefit. this, however, is something of a double-edged sword; he’s granted, albeit temporarily, with the mental stimuli that he craves, that he desperately needs, but in jumping from one person to the next ( enacting numerous mind games, collecting people and drowning himself in these near constant social interactions ), he’s overfilling those aforementioned mental files of his, he’s interacted with so many people, experienced so many interactions, that, over time, everyone begins to become predictable. he becomes more and more difficult to entertain and so, oftentimes, is left at least vaguely disappointed. which, in turn, causes him to continuously up his game, to up the stakes, leading to further and further consequence--- even going so far as to put his own life at risk, to risk death, for the sake of satisfying his own personal agenda or to prove a point ( case and point, his final fight with shizuo, which leaves his body utterly destroyed and leads to him being stabbed and near death; he’s ultimately fine with being killed if it’s at shizuo’s hand just so that he can finally prove that shizuo is, in fact, the monster that he’s constantly touting him to be--- note !! this particular scene / interaction is one that i don’t entirely maintain as canon for my particular portrayal of izaya ).

izaya is, without a doubt, the great villain in his respective series, but in becoming so has found himself becoming his own great villain as well. his inherent problematic qualities coupled with misconceived loneliness and emotional repression has led to him being his own greatest vice. he’s incapable of relinquishing control, banishes all signs of vulnerability ( however few there may be ), and views others as being beneath him, none capable of being or becoming his intellectual equal.

long story short, izaya is one part sociopath, one part self-made enemy number one ( both in regard to those unfortunate enough to cross his path and to himself ). and though i strive to bring out the best of both worlds, there’s only so much that i’m capable of in writing for a character quite so interesting and complex as this.

#☆. ( hc )#☆. ( izaya )#me: izaya is a rat bastard #also me: izaya is an incredibly complex character and in this essay i will--#anyway this is very. long. but it was fun to think about & write & really get into #my views & hcs & portrayal of izaya!#& i can't wait to do these for as many #of my muses as my brain will allow #suicide //#☆. ( character study )

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scully-eats-sushi · 5 years

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can you help me out?? how can i convince a relative of mine that tr*mp is racist and a bad leader? he was asking me for proof/examples and i didn't know how to defend myself.. 😩

Hey Anon,

In my experience, unfortunately, you can almost never convince idealogues of views that are contrary to the ones they hold, because of a psychological effect called “confirmation bias.” This is the tendency to process information by looking for, or interpreting, information in such a way that is consistent with their existing beliefs, and the corollary, by discounting evidence which is inconsistent with their existing beliefs. Most people, in fact, have some level of confirmation bias, but some certainly more than others. I myself try really hard to recognize when I might be susceptible, and I try to look for objective evidence which might be presented by people of multiple points of view. I also try to look at something in the best light possible and determine whether other interpretations are possible.

All that said, while many of us disliked Tr*mp to begin with, if we were open to viewing the evidence objectively, we’ve seen abundant examples of his covert and intrinsic racism and sexism. We’ve seen how he speaks about immigrants from South America and the Middle East in a very different way from how he speaks about immigrants (and how he’s married to an immigrant) from Europe and Americans from his base. We’ve seen how he treated Puerto Ricans--who are American citizens--as foreigners, with no good explanation other than the fact of racism. We’ve seen how he treats women and speaks about women fundamentally differently than he speaks about men.

I personally think that Trump cares even more about his power and money than race and gender, but he’s very good at using race-baiting and chauvinism to keep his cult of personality going. He’s also fundamentally psychologically incapable of admitting that he’s ever wrong or that he won’t ever be “the best.” He’s deeply psychologically flawed.

The evidence for him being a bad leader is even better than the evidence for racism. Plain and simple, he tried to extort at least one foreign government into doing him favors for his own personal gain at the expense of the U.S. national security. Every serious non-political partisan can see this, as plain as day. He has done what the Kremlin has wanted on multiple occasions, at the expense of U.S. allies. He has thrown every individual ally under the bus when they were no longer useful to him.

Here’s a fact which proves his malignant narcissism: he has attacked people or institutions almost 6,000 times and praised himself 2,000 times in more than 11,000 tweets over 33 months. (NY Times article three days ago, in interactive form: https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2019/11/02/us/politics/trump-twitter-presidency.html) In other words, over half of his tweets have contained attacks. That proves, right there, that he is not presidential material. Presidents do not normally and should never be permitted by the American people to repeatedly attack people and institutions, including the press, for disagreeing with the president’s opinion. That’s thug behavior and the stuff of dictatorial governments.

And, despite his claims, he has been the least transparent president in recent memory or perhaps ever. He has never released tax returns, he has ordered appointees and staff not to testify even when they have been subject to lawful subpoenas, and he has lied and changed his own story repeatedly, on camera.

Now, you and I can both see that. And anyone not convinced that tr*mp is a great leader can see all those things. I think you’re likely to just be banging your head against a wall if you try to convince them otherwise, but if you insist, try asking them to discuss with you each of your confirmation biases, and then ask if they’d be willing to discuss reports of the same news item from different sources.

In most cases, the best you could hope for would be an “aha!” moment where something doesn’t sit right, and suddenly your relative is open to the possibility that something they believed in the past wasn’t actually correct, and that they’ve been misled. Don’t be confrontational. Realize that this is part of human psychology, and it doesn’t mean that your relative is a terrible person. But that’s pretty rare to see a person become open to exploring their previously unknown confirmation biases, I think.

Sorry for my essay. FWIW, I don’t know how helpful it can be.

#politics #chitchat

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jokersmild · 5 years

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I still owe a number of things, but I wanted to take the time to explain my interpretation of the Joker's romantic inclinations - particularly in regards to Harley Quinn and Batman. Heads up that this is incredibly long, hence the readmore!

To understand the Joker, you have to first understand that he is completely and utterly insane. That's not to say that he doesn't follow logic or make rational decisions, simply that if normality is a spectrum with pale house, picket fence, a 9-5 job, and two pets on one side, the Joker is on the exact opposite side. He is the embodiment of chaos, and so he cannot feel 'love' or anything similar in the way that the average, mentally sound human can. Love is something that he's capable of processing - he loves jokes, he loves violence and death - but when it comes to loving creatures that are alive, what he feels would be more comparable to curiosity in varying levels. At his most curious, you have Batman and Harley Quinn. His least curious would likely be harmless animals, newborn babies, and mundane tasks. The more curious about something the Joker is, the longer he keeps it around, and the more he attempts to mold it to fit a shape he finds most pleasing.

I'm sure most of you who have read this far already know the story of how he came to meet Harley Quinn, but just in case, I'll summarize briefly. She worked as a psychologist fresh out of college at Arkham and talked her way into getting Joker as her first patient. She wanted to write a story on him to gain fame and fortune, but he ended up seducing and manipulating her, turning her into the Harley you know today. The reason he put so much effort into twisting her into something he finds pleasing is because he saw her potential on their very first meeting. The Joker is incredibly intelligent, especially socially, and is capable of picking up on the subtlest of hints. He spent (likely) somewhere around a year as he patient, testing her, prodding for minute details like her favorite colors, her hobbies, and her grades in school, and given all that time, he was able to learn enough about her past and personality to successfully get inside her head. The more she fell for his lies, the more she stretched as he pulled, the more he wanted to do more. She became an experiment of sorts, a test to see just how much he could change this prim and proper pencil skirt wearing doctor to someone like him - a murderous clown who views life as a joke. When she finally snapped and became 'Harley Quinn', he had intended to toss her aside, since his test had been a success and there was nothing more to see. But she continued to surprise him. She proved herself to be competent as a henchman where no others had before, she proved that she could match his pace, complement his theatrical appearance and mannerisms, and that she had far more to show him than he'd thought possible.

A fact worth noting is that the Joker never intended for her to fall in love with him. He doesn't suffer from any self esteem issues (in fact, it's quite the opposite as he has Narcissism), but he assumed that a woman nearly half his age would have no interest in an asylum inmate. When she first showed signs of romantic attraction, Harley genuinely surprised him. The Joker's past has never included romantic relationships (note, I mean the Joker and not the man he was before), and he never intended it to aside from his pining for Batman. He wasn't sure how to react for the first time in ages, and it was the fact that she was able to render him speechless and stunned that began his spiral into what he later realized is love. After she joined with him, after the months of pet names, hand holding, hugs, and soft kisses on cheeks and foreheads, the Joker realized that he enjoyed her company. And not in the way that he enjoyed a crying, screaming victim's, but not entirely dissimilar to the way he felt about Batman. The Joker wanted to keep her around, keep her happy (as he does so enjoy her laughter and excited squeals), and name her his number two. Once he came to that conclusion, he became ill. He knew that it wasn't 'The Joker in love with Harley Quinn', but rather, the man he was before (Jack, John, or Arthur if you please) in love with her. She appealed to what tiny scraps of sanity he had left. Harley showed him unconditional affection and kindness, she was patient with him, supportive, and an ever present source of camaraderie. Sure, she had fallen for The Joker's clowny antics, but she fell for the glimpses of sanity that only she had been able to see. The Joker worried that keeping her close would ease some of the symptoms of his insanity, that he would cease to be 'The Joker' if he and Harley remained an item. So he attempted to kill her. And when she didn't die, he learned that she was no pushover - he had turned her into something near an equal. At that point, he had little choice but to keep her close. She knew his secrets, had seen him cry of all things, and he had unknowingly given her power over him that no one else, not even Batman has. He loves her, not just his sanity, but even the Joker himself came to love Harley for her tenacity, insanity, bloodlust, and theatrics. It makes little sense why he would abuse her as he does if he loves her, but the Joker, as I mentioned, does not process love in a sane way. He continues to test her to this day, and the most common test is of her loyalty. No one is a constant in his life aside from Batman, the other Gotham Rogues shift from friend to foe in moments, and he'd convinced himself she would be the same. You could say that he's incapable of accepting that he's loved, and because he refused to believe she would stay with him, he continued to prod her in search of the button that would trigger the 'leave' response. Now that he found it and she has truly left him, he can't accept that, either. He made her, his tests are the reason she is who she is, and she will always love him. She has to love him, because his sanity will always love her. It's similar to not knowing what he had until it was gone - although he knew what he had, he simply wasn't capable of carrying the weight of love.

In Batman's case, the Joker loves him because he created the Joker. Think of it as a sort of... accidental 'Mad Love' scenario. In many of his origin stories (the Killing Joke being my primary inspiration), Batman led the Joker to the chemical vat, and his dark and brooding nature is what encouraged the Joker to take on a light and jovial one. They are day and night, light and shadow, and the Joker feels Batman completes him. A world without Batman simply wouldn't make sense (a concept he's currently struggling with here in isola), as you can't have a left hand without a right. It would just be a hand. Batman would just be a man dressed as a bat, and the Joker would just be a clown.

The main point to take out of the differences in the Joker's feelings for Harley and Batman, is that the Joker is obsessed with Batman. Their relationship is one of need. It is the stage on which the Joker's theatrics take place and Batman's stoic and determined nature shine. What he feels for Harley isn't need, but rather, comfort. He doesn't have to put on a show for her like he does the rest of the world. He doesn't have to wear the lipstick or the suit for her to see him for who he truly is. If our resident Harley wants to explain her feelings for the Joker, she's more than welcome to as I can't speak for her interpretation, but what I do strongly believe is that Harley will continue to love the Joker because he's the first person who looked at her and saw her, not what she presented. They have this in common, the ability to understand one another as no one else can, and thus they will always be connected - whether it's romantic or platonic. They claim to despise each other, and while Harley is more likely to be vocal about her hidden desire to care for him, the Joker feels the same. He's said as much to her on a few rare occasions, even though most only see his aggressive and violent behavior toward her. That's just one aspect of his emotions, and it's crucial to keep in mind that the Joker sees himself as an actor, the co-star alongside Batman, and he's nothing if not dedicated to performance. He has many faces (no pun intended), and there are as many Jokers as there are comics, movies, and shows he appears in. Each writer has their own opinion, their own ideas, and I have mine.

In conclusion, I ask that you take a moment to consider that the Joker is more than he appears. Yes, he is a serial killer and a terrorist dressed as a clown. But he is also a man whose wife and child died the day before he fell into a vat of toxic chemicals that forever altered his physical and mental state. I don't want anyone to sympathize with him - The Joker is intended to be a truly terrible and awful villain, someone who feels not a single ounce of regret, unlike Harley who sometimes feels guilt for her actions and draws moral lines. There is some small piece of who he once was deep down inside, but it's not going to surface. He will have no redemption arc. He will never be a good person. But there is, was, and always will be the potential for him to be a good partner. Whatever happens in Isola will remain a mystery until it happens, as sometimes plans go awry as muses run rampant, but I thank you for reading this to its conclusion, and for attempting to see the small flickers or goodness he shows toward Harley in rare and vulnerable moments. Because even though the Joker represents true evil and rampant chaos, even the darkest depths must have light somewhere nearby - otherwise how would you compare its darkness?

#ǝʅᴉⅎ ʎɯ uᴉ sʇᴉ IMPORTANT !!#sǝʅᴉɯs ⅎo ʇno OOC !!#[ this is so long... ]#[ also I'm posting on mobile! Formatting will be done once I'm home.]#ABUSE MENTION CW #MANIPULATION MENTION CW

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madefate-a · 5 years

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the big headspace meta. | shiro & trauma psychopathology.

> the big character meta.

> quick & dirty key points guide.

okay ! after the better part of a year, it’s here: the Big Meta on what, exactly*, is going on in shiro’s head. asterisk on exactly for a few reasons, the largest being that psychology is not so black and white as to have a simple plug and play causality chain. there are certainly touchstones in terms of diagnoses, and it can be incredibly helpful to have these guideposts in terms of understanding why and how changes in the body and mind occur, but the way those diagnoses present are different in every single person, and no one label ( or multiple labels ) is a definitive way to understand or categorize someone. with comorbidity at play, there are multiple axes at work in the human response to any trauma. and, well, it’s a show about space magic. so we need a little wiggle room.

and, of course, I am in no way a professional. this meta is merely meant to more fully flesh out some of the whys and whats of shiro’s mental state, behavior, and reactions to things. some of these I do try to weave into my portrayal, for the sake of healing and realism, while many others might be true but not a facet of what we see under most circumstances. I will attempt to source my information wherever I can, but please know that psychology is not my area of academia and don’t have access to scholarly / peer reviewed sources, nor necessarily the ability to understand denser medical material. I will be avoiding the DSM, though, because fuck the DSM.

time for some trigger warnings. below the cut, there’s going to be discussion of the arena, which includes captivity / enslavement, death, injury, medical experimentation, memory loss, loss of agency / consent, and everything that goes along with that setting and time period. I don’t intend to be gratuitous, extremely vivid, nor darker or more brutal than what we can reasonably extrapolate from the s1 / s2 show, with a few things cherry picked from seasons 3 & 6. ( where we cultivated a better understanding of haggar’s abilities and motivations. sort of. ) there will also be discussion of trauma psychology, including PTSD and CPTSD, sensory deprivation / isolation ( as in: the void ), body dysphoria, disordered self images, and mourning. what there will not be is condoning of using mental illness as a way of othering or dehumanizing people, or otherwise proving some kind of inability / incapability.

ultimately, my goal is to simply better understand shiro -- not to create and in and out box of if this, then that, but simply to understand how circumstance and trauma inform behavior, and then how to use this knowledge for a character arc full of Healing and the reclamation of agency.

so, here we go !!

PTSD & CPTSD: a brief overview

the easiest place to start is the most salient: PTSD. it is not necessarily textual to the show canon* ( *which, of course, I always take very lightly ) as in, it is not said out loud. however, it is clearly portrayed in the visual narrative with some of the more recognizable symptoms: flashbacks, freezing ( ep o2 ) and frightening thoughts ( ep o9 ). tellingly, without the ability to avoid reminders of traumatic sites, these symptoms are often triggered under those conditions ( galra battleships, fights that mimic arena experiences ).

newer then PTSD in the field of trauma psychology ( originating in 1992 ) is the idea of Complex PTSD, or CPTSD. CPTSD is a way to explore the changes that occur in individuals in situations of captivity, prolonged trauma ( as opposed to single-event ), or otherwise loss of agency. at the current time, CPTSD is diagnosed with a cluster of symptoms, and is often associated with abuse in childhood. still, there are some symptoms within these clusters that affect shiro, both on their own and as they overlap with PTSD.

which we’ll get into, right after we figure out where this all starts ! so --

the traumas.

it starts with the galra.

sort of. but we’ll touch briefly on that later. for all intents and purposes, shiro’s trauma is courtesy of the galra. thanks, sendak. I’ve done some work fleshing out the arena between HCs and writing, so you can check out some of that:

the arena, pt 1.

gotta lose that arm.

the champion.

nightmares after the resurrection.

aftermath of that arm.

the black lion.

body basics.

as a fighter, and a leader, you bring hope.

the big character meta

the shorter character meta

but we do need to run down a few of the things that are relevant to symptom presentation. during shiro’s time there, he experienced both single and repeated instances of trauma, and while they both contributed to the overall environment of that year, it’s important to understand that while some things were chronic, others were not.

single-instance experiences

separation from the holts

loss of his arm

chronic / repeated experiences

loss of freedom of movement

untreated injuries

restraints

physical / life threatening danger

need for self protection

forced performance ( both in the arena and as an act of self preservation around guards )

semi repeated experiences

helplessness to touch ( haggar, most saliently )

interrogation ( initial, as well as a few sessions of haggar’s memory extraction )

killing ( many fights, but not all, end in victory or death )

nonconsensual anesthetization ( with the galra, and at the garrison upon his return )

medical experimentation & examination ( most of it for information gathering purposes )

conditioning to believe that he would become a weapon / attempts to sway him to the galra without brainwashing ( see fic linked above )

this is where the overlap between PTSD and CPTSD comes largely into play -- it would be impossible, and unnecessary, to try to draw direct lines between experiences and the consequences of those experiences. rather, it’s far better to look at how all of these contributed to a certain environment or mentality:

everpresent danger / no one to trust

loss of choice and agency

conditioning to use power in a specific, and deadly, way

we know that shiro did not lose himself entirely. from the flashbacks to his escape, we know that o1. ) shiro fought for his freedom until the very end, and was never swayed to compliance by haggar or any druid / galra, and o2. ) that he exhibited qualities that made him a symbol of hope. this cannot be accomplished if he behaved in accordance to haggar’s designs and lost himself to rage or following orders. this is important! because resistance and a desire to retain a sense of self and purpose are through lines that follow him long past the arena, and are what allowed him to keep as much clarity and focus as possible. this quality, in fact, is what allows him to hold any semblance of trust in others after he escapes -- trust that he gives to allura, keith, and the black lion. which brings us to the other major event that we need to consider --

let’s talk about death. briefly.

here’s a perfect example of where the lines of mental health blur and overlap: some of the reactions he has are a result of the combination between putting his faith in the black lion and team voltron, and dying in the process. this is going to be a brief section -- mostly because there’s a more Descriptive and Creative and Prettily Worded fic coming dealing with the specifics of Life in V*ltron’s Void. but we do need to touch on the mental and physical trauma of losing his body and existing in the void and -- yes, yes it can spiral into a much larger, longer topic. I’ll try my best to compress!

part one: the reckoning.

there’s really no getting around how scarring it is to know that your body has been destroyed. that single instance, though, is processed much, much later than it occurs. that’s because in the void, he couldn’t physically react to the knowledge -- with no heart or nervous system, shiro could not properly process nor react to the loss of his body. it was more learned and known than felt, which in and of itself makes the process more difficult than it might be otherwise. ( might be -- we’ll never know for sure. ) the loss of his body will come into larger play down the line when he is dealing with issues of his body, as well as understanding and mourning kuron.

part two: the physical.

shiro spends the better part of the year with no physical body, and no sensations. none of this registers in the void, because that is the nature of the void, but as strange as time feels there, he absolutely feels this when he is brought back. this will get touched on in the latter half of the meta, but it’s important to know that everything is delayed, distorted, and simply not felt in the void.

part three: the mental.

as the forbidden season tells us, every moment in the void was a struggle to stay conscious. this fluctuated, depending on shiro’s mental strength, as well as what was happening around himself. he spent every conscious moment trying to reach any of the paladins -- keith or kuron particularly, as they were the ones piloting black and, thus, had a better chance of hearing or sensing him. his best opportunities for someone to hear him came when v*ltron was formed and all the paladins occupied the same physical and mental space. losing the connection he almost formed with lance informs much of shiro’s actions after he is restored. it was proof that his emotional isolation might have been the reason that he was unable to connect with the others, and spurs him to be more open down the road, lest the consequences turn deadly again.

the smaller instances: fighting with haggar, his family, illness

another important thing to note that there are other contributing factors at play. his fight with haggar after rescuing allura provides a visual motif that he cannot unsee: himself, irrevocably stained in the darkness of her magic, looking ruthless and deadly. it is a large contributing factor to the shape his self image issues take.

also, let’s talk about the few things that began to shape his mental landscape before the galra: the loss of his parents at age 18 and the diagnosis of his illness at 19*. I go more in depth into the illness in the big character meta, so check it out if you like, and both of these are my own, personal headcanons since we received no ages on either from the Powers That Be. ( truth be told, I wasn’t expecting him to deal with so much shit -- I placed these timeline events when he was older to try to mitigate the angst. incredible. ) both of these contributed to being confronted with helplessness or loss of control over his life, as well as a heightened sense of responsibility that found an opportunity to fester when he began to blame himself for the holts’ capture, in any attempt to restore agency*. ( *but we’ll get to that. )

the symptoms.

getting back to PTSD and CPTSD.

oh yes, that good, good full circle-ness. so we’ve arrived back at the start, but knowing that all of this is less than a line of dominoes than it is a spiderweb, with different strands sometimes tugging the same things. let’s lay out the symptoms that shiro is dealing, all to different degrees and at different frequencies:

PTSD

Intrusive Memories, which include:

Recurrent, unwanted distressing memories of the traumatic event

Reliving the traumatic event as if it were happening again (flashbacks)

Upsetting dreams or nightmares about the traumatic event

Severe emotional distress or physical reactions to something that reminds you of the traumatic event

Avoidance, which includes:

Trying to avoid thinking or talking about the traumatic event

Negative Changes in Thinking and Mood, which includes:

Negative thoughts about yourself

Memory problems, including not remembering important aspects of the traumatic event

Feeling detached from family and friends

Changes in Physical and Emotional Reactions, which include:

Always being on guard for danger

Trouble sleeping

Trouble concentrating

Irritability, angry outbursts or aggressive behavior

Overwhelming guilt or shame

Misc. / Specific

Difficulty being physically vulnerable -- ie, without armor or unable to see where exits might be

The trigger of being restrained / someone unexpectedly grabbing or holding his chin / face in place -- this is something haggar would do

Symptom list courtesy of mayoclinic -- if you peruse, you’ll notice that he does not exhibit every symptom of PTSD.

CPTSD

CPTSD is less extensive than PTSD, and, in shiro’s case, secondary to PTSD, as many CPTSD symptoms are fostered in childhood, as the direct result of the violation of trust in guardians or authority figures. Shiro’s symptoms include clusters:

alterations in attention or consciousness

alterations in self-perception

and specifics:

Changes in emotional regulation, such as dysphoria, as well as changing expressions of anger ( inhibited, and explosive )

Episodes of depersonalization

A sense of being different from all other human beings

A sense of defilement or stigma ( irrevocably stained )

A belief that no one can understand ( “they don’t know what you know” )

A feeling of a non-human identity ( sometimes slips and thinks of himself as a robeast or weapon )

*** An inflated sense of responsibility. Shiro uses responsibility as a way to feel that he has some semblance of control over himself and the world around him.

for this one, I did reference the wiki -- apologies, the more trustworthy sources are behind paywalls!

Sensory Issues

The sensory issues largely come from his time in the void. I break it down a little more thoroughly >> here << so if you want to, check that out. Essentially, he has phases after his restoration to a body, immediate issues and lasting ones.

immediate issues ( the roadtrip home timeline )

a lack of energy, which manifests as inability to participate in longer conversations / conversations with more than one or two other people, frequent naps, and listlessness that comes with feeling heavy in a physical body

attention issues, which manifest in difficulty holding long conversations

overstimulation, which manifests in shiro being very physically sensitive to all senses: touch, sight / light, sound, smell, and taste.

lack of appetite, which is mostly due to the fact that he has to get used to eating again.

lasting issues

intermittent tiredness -- he naps much less frequently the stronger he gets, but he never quite gets to where he used to be in that regard.

openness -- shiro gets a lot more emotionally open with people; terrified by being stuck in a realm with no exit and how he failed to connect with any of the paladins, he is less likely to be closed off entirely the way he was previously

a fear of being lost / not being heard -- both in waking hours and in sleep, shiro gains a persistent fear of no one knowing where he is, or otherwise not being heard or seen

dysphoria -- shiro struggles greatly with being in kuron’s body

his nightmares change after the void -- they become a combination of scattered memories from kuron, as well as nightmares of drowning or not being heard when he yells. he also wakes up from them differently; before the void, he used to wake silently. now he might physically roll out of bed, choke, or touch himself in some way ( press a hand to his chest, or splay his hand around his throat )

What Doesn’t Change

everything, basically.

yes !! I just wrote up an embarrassingly long meta on shiro’s trauma and how it affects him. but at the end of the day, shiro is still shiro. he loses none of his ambition, drive, humor, optimism, hopefulness, compassion, or sense of fun and adventure. he is not afraid of space, the front lines, or giving his all to keep the earth safe. no matter the severity of his symptoms on any given day, he is still a decisive leader, empathetic and supportive, and still holds seeing the world, and the universe, as his dream.

none of what he has gone through or deals with now defines him. it merely explains some of his behaviors and gives him a tangible place to start on his journey to healing.

#( shiro. )#( shiro hc. )#( the big metas. )#do not reblog /#trigger list above the cut #holy shit guys!!!! holy SHIT !!!!!!!!#ive been working on this for MONTHS !!!! ITS DONE !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#honestly i SHOULD be embarrassed at the sheer amt of content ive produced but like ..... im not .....#en ee way pray i get into my phd program so i can take all this energy & direct it elsewhere skdjgh

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just-come-baek · 6 years

Text

force of attraction

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Themes: smut | ghostbusters!au | ex lovers!au

Word count: 14.1k

Summary: Taehyung is a brilliant nut job, and along with Hoseok and Jin, these scaredy-cats, we bust ghost.

Warnings: a bit jealous and slightly possessive Taehyung, mentions of ghosts but not in a scary way, humor sprinkled with lame retorts, unprotected sex, literally a single smack, oral!receiving

Glossary: P.K.E. meter – a device designed specifically to locate Psychokinetic Energy in an area. CDI System – a way to set categories to types of supernatural phenomenon. Proton Pack – a weapon used to attack and confine ghosts.

Masterlist

“You wished to see us, dean?” Taehyung asked as he plopped down in the chair in front of the dean’s desk, his legs up on the top of the mahogany wooden surface, Jin and Hoseok trailing behind him, yet not daring to display such nonchalant and rude behavior toward their employer. Unlike Taehyung, they knew how to respect their boss. If it came to rules and regulations or even proper work etiquette, Taehyung perceived it more like clues, and not exactly like principles.

“Yeah, thanks for arriving at such short notice,” dean started, as he put down his fancy fountain pen, and entwined his fingers, staring at the doctors in front of him, “I am very sorry to announce that, but the university no longer can fund your scientific activities. The faculty council has decided to shut down your department, and move the funds over to the faculty of medicine.”

“Nah, you can’t be serious, Namjoon,” Taehyung spoke with the audacity to address the dean by his first name. “You can’t do this, not now, not when we’ve almost finished the prototype of the Proton Pack! It’s gonna be a breakthrough in our field. You can’t cancel our funds.”

“It doesn’t matter, you don’t have students, and we’re adjusting the programme to our students’ interests. You have no attendance.” Dean announced, and Hoseok and Jin exchanged meaningful glances.

“Recently, the attendance is remarkably high, sir,” Hoseok answered with utter respect, grinning sheepishly only for his smile to fade away as soon as Namjoon shot him a doubtful glare. As the dean, he knew the statistics, and he wasn’t the one to be fooled. Particularly not by these nut jobs. “My last lecture on cannibalistic rites of ancient New Guinea tribesmen was viewed by two students. And I may proudly add, no one slept through it.”

“Believe me, Hoseok; I’ve heard about such an occurrence,” Namjoon admitted truthfully, and Hoseok beamed brightly at his superior, “however, because of your passionate lecture I’m dealing with a lawsuit, do you want to talk about that in great detail?”

“It’s not my fault that some students are weak wusses,” Hoseok commented under his breath, and smiled at Namjoon who tried to decipher Hoseok’s remark.

“Namjoon, listen, you don’t want to do this,” Taehyung started, as he changed his previous position, now leaning forward, resting his upper body on his elbow, staring at the dean as if trying to intimidate him. In vain, though. Taehyung had been working for the university for two years now, and at this point, Namjoon knew how to deal with him. “We’re two, maybe three days away from the biggest discovery of the century. You can’t just sack us!”

“It has already been decided, sorry, but my hands are tied,” Namjoon said, sounding as cold as an automatic secretary, as he arranged documents on his desk.

“We’re not gonna give up,” Taehyung threatened before he and his co-workers exited the dean’s office.

“What are we going to do now?” Jin asked, as soon as Taehyung closed the doors. Amongst the three of them, Jin was the one who handled the issue the worst; it was the very first time when he didn’t have everything under control. How could Taehyung and Hoseok be so fucking calm? Jin was a nervous wreck; his pulse was rapid, his hands shaking. Fifteen minutes ago, he was an academic teacher and a parapsychological researcher at a prestigious university, and now, he was an unemployed scientist with a useless diploma.

The parapsychological field was a bitch when it came to employment; either you’re a respected scientist or a looked-down-to diviner who struggles to get by every month.

“Don’t worry boys, everything will be alright,” Taehyung assured them, although no one, not even Taehyung himself, was convinced. “Maybe it’s about time to take matters into our own hands? The Proton Pack is almost ready; we don’t need the university’s money, only our big heads. How difficult can it be?”

“For you? Probably insurmountably,” Jin snorted as he remembered how many times during their college days Taehyung had failed economics. In any other field, Taehyung was a genius; however, when he had been about to take the economics exam, he had been daft as a brush. When he had been a student, he had mastered parapsychology, psychology, physics, metallurgy, and whatnot! Only economics had managed to beat him for some reason.

“Spare me the attitude,” Taehyung barked back, not even trying to disguise his annoyance. He was just a human being; human beings are famous for their imperfections, and Taehyung’s only flaw seemed to be the incapability to learn basics of the economy.

“I guess we can try,” Hoseok spoke, and Taehyung and Jin looked at him as if they just realized Hoseok was a part of the conversation as well. “We’ve just got fired. I mean… it can’t get any worse, right?” He added, and his friends just couldn’t disagree.

“Okay, but he,” Jin pointed at Taehyung, “can’t go anywhere near the management. Leave it all up to me,” he added, and everyone silently approved.

“I don’t think a mortgage was a good idea,” Hoseok commented, as the three of them exited the bank.

“Don’t worry, nowadays everybody has at least three credits,” Taehyung spoke with a shrug, his eyes focused on the screen of his phone, as he scrolled through property offers, seeking for the most suitable location for their new company. “Once we commercialize our services, you’ll pay it back in a blink of an eye.”

“With twenty percent of interest rate? I may not be an expert, but it’s a total rip-off!” Hoseok asked and looked at Jin, hoping he would back up Taehyung’s statement. Unfortunately, Jin didn’t seem nearly as optimistic as Taehyung.

“If my calculations are right, after two years the interest rate alone will cost you over a fifty thousand.” Jin quietly muttered to himself, yet Hoseok managed to catch what interested him the most. Why the hell had he agreed to that? Why had he listened to Taehyung? Nothing good ever happens when he does, so why this time should be any different? Not only had he been sacked, but right now, he had a bank credit with a high chance of being unable to pay it back.

Fantastic!

“Don’t listen to him, everything will be alright,” Taehyung added, as he stopped in his tracks in the middle of the pedestrian crossing. “Guys, I think I found us a place, it’s the firehouse like three blocks away from here. Should I call the real estate agent?” Taehyung announced, showing them the picture of the spacious place that would be undoubtedly perfect for them, undeniably large enough to accommodate all of their private stuff and allow them to run as many experiments as they wished.

“Isn’t it too soon?” Hoseok asked, yet Taehyung already walked away, dialing the number of the real estate agency. They had no time to waste; if they wished to have an income, they had to start working as soon as it was possible. Even Taehyung knew that, and his sense of business was quite limited (if not retarded).

“Nonsense,” Taehyung replied nonchalantly, as he strolled down the pavement. “Once we get the place, we’ll be needing a secretary and a car. Any volunteers?”

“I’ll take care of the process of recruitment,” Jin chipped in with a smile on his face, “what? It has always fascinated me how people react to problematical questions; it’s a fine opportunity to run a small experiment.”

“Okay, fine, just don’t be too weird, starting a business with a lawsuit is not quite promising,” Taehyung warned Jin as if it wasn’t the first time such a situation was about to occur. “So, Hoseok, why don’t you take care of a vehicle?”

“I’ll check if we can lease one, it will be cheaper,” Hoseok replied, and Taehyung nodded his head, although he had no clue what Hoseok meant by that.

“Then I think we’re all set,” Taehyung admitted, rubbing his hands together. They had lots of work ahead of them, and Taehyung just couldn’t wait to start working. Funnily enough, just right after they all had got sacked, he felt a newfound source of energy that he could only burn through hard work. The first breeze of freedom was so energizing and refreshing that Taehyung, although in the past hadn’t complained, finally felt alive, so at this point, he wondered why they hadn’t left the university sooner.

Apparently, the job hunt is a long and complicated process, my friend warned me. If you want somebody to reply to your application, you should at least send out twenty curriculum vitae, she preached, and I only rolled my eyes at her, brushing the pessimistic thought away.

Although I lacked experience being fresh off college, my qualifications weren’t that bad.

That’s precisely why I wasn’t that astonished when I got a reply the next morning, considering I had only applied for one position and at this point, it was about time to prove her wrong.

The aforementioned reply was short and simple; my potential employer wanted to meet up for an interview, writing down the address where I could find the company and the time when he was available for the meeting.

Three academic professors sought for a secretary slash accountant for their newfound business, and although the job proposition seemed as if they had no clue how to recruit employees, the monthly payment was quite handsome when compared to the other offers on the market.

Instead of thinking further, I opened the window to write a short reply in which I mentioned the estimated hour of my arrival and a note showing my gratitude for the chance they had given me.

The most challenging part of the recruitment was already behind me, and the job was almost mine. All I had to was to dress up and chill; going to the job interview fidgety was the worst thing a candidate could do. I was confident about my skills, and I wasn’t afraid to show my future boss the best side of my character.

Quickly, I ran around my studio apartment looking for my daintiest clothes. Whoever claimed the looks don’t matter during the job interview had to be a complete idiot; the first good impression is the key to success, and right now, I was determined to triumph.

By half past three in the afternoon I showed up. At first, I thought I was erroneous but then I checked the address for the second time, and there could be no mistake. The office was a part of the old firehouse, and I wondered how on Earth it hadn’t collapsed yet.

There was no doorbell–not a surprise!

I firmly knocked, but no one replied within two minutes, so I placed my hand on the knob and pushed the doors open since they weren’t locked. It wasn’t a surprise, either. The building looked like a ruin; even the worst burglar wouldn’t try to break into it.

“Hello? Is anyone here?” I hollered but my echo was the only reply I heard. Hesitantly, I entered the building, my eyes roaming around the hall. Dust covered every surface inside, a thick layer of grime lying on every item. “I’m here for the job interview!” I cleared my throat, speaking up a notch.

Just when I was about to turn around and leave, a man emerged from another room, a few binders in his hand, white, cotton coat thrown over his shoulders. Though he looked exhausted with huge bags under his eyes and messy hair, he was still incredibly handsome; he was tall and lean, and everything else a woman could want in a man.

“Who are you?” he asked, confused. Instantly, he turned to look at me, his eyebrow cocked up in a questioning manner, as he didn’t expect me here. “Wait, what time is it? Is it already three thirty? Oh shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t think you would come,” the guy spoke in a single breath, and I barely understood him. “I mean… hi, I’ve been expecting you,” he corrected himself, put the binders away and stretched his arm, offering me a handshake.

“Nice to meet you… Seokjin,” I smiled at him, as I read the nametag that was attached to his coat.

“Everybody calls me Jin, actually,” he announced, and I nodded in comprehension. “So you’re here for the job interview,” he trailed off, looking around the room as if seeking something. “Why don’t we sit there and you tell me why you want to work here, hmm?” he mentioned, showing me the way to the room which was also dirty but compared to the main hall, it was remotely cleaner.

“Of course,” I replied as I followed behind him.

Once we sat down, Jin placed his hands on a desk, entwining his fingers together, his eyes focused on my frame in front of him. With a gentle smile on his face, he studied my features almost as if he was going to recruit me based on my reactions and not my replies.

“So why do you want to work for us? Do you have any experience?” Jin asked, and I smiled at him, almost excited to answer his easy questions. Why do I want to have a job? Must be because I don’t like to live on the streets. Do I have any experience? Not really, but how difficult that job can be?

The moment when I was about to open my mouth and make up a reasonable response, someone came through the doors, making the both of us lose our focus. “Jin, I’m almost finished with the P.K.E. meter prototype. Can you have a look at it? I don’t understand why it shows 350 when I go upstairs.”

“Be careful with that!” Jin reprimanded the other guy, as he stood up and approached him, yanking the device out of the latter’s hands. “You know it’s fragile!” he added, and I bit my bottom lip, patiently waiting for them to finish so Jin and I could continue our interview. “Hmm… thanks, interesting, it looks fine. Have you run other tests?”

“Yeah, I looked around wearing Ecto-Goggles but in vain. Do you think we’re dealing with our first target here? What are the odds?” the man asked excitedly, finally realizing my presence. “Oh, I had no idea you had a guest.”

“We’re actually in the middle of the job interview,” Jin explained, and I nodded, confirming his words.

“Really? A job interview? But we had only one application,” the guy spoke, and Jin quickly elbowed his side to shut him up. Oh, so I was their only candidate… it was quite assuring. “I mean… I wish you luck on your job interview.”

“What was that about?” I asked pointing at the doors through which the intruder walked out.

“It was Hoseok, but don’t worry that pretty head of yours. Everything is alright; it’s just a small bump in the road, no biggie.” Jin explained, and although he tried to look sincere, I wasn’t buying it. He seemed stiff, and he was stamping his foot on the floor as if he wanted to dash out to help Hoseok whatever the problem was. “Okay, so where were we?” Jin asked as he already forgot what we had been talking about.

“I haven’t got a chance to say anything before he barged in,” I stated truthfully, and Jin sent me an apologetic look for being so unprofessional about the job interview. “But to answer your previous questions, no, I don’t have any experience but I’m a business graduate, and I can get my mind wrapped around everything you want me to. Picking up the phone, accountancy, you name it!”

“Okay, you’re hired!” Jin hollered enthusiastically, “be here tomorrow by four o’clock. I’ll acquaint you with everything. I better go help Hoseok before he blows the whole place up.”

“You wanted to see me?” my friend asked as she walked inside of my studio apartment. “Oh, what’s the occasion?” she inquired with a cocked eyebrow the moment she noticed a bottle of cheap champagne in my hands.

“What can I say? I got the job,” I announced calmly, smiling at her in a victory. “In your face!” I screamed, fighting with the bottle, striving to open it.

“Really? I’m so happy for you,” Jennie cheered before she hugged me. “Okay, so tell me everything,” she urged as we sat down on the couch, pouring the champagne to slim glasses. “What is your boss like? Is he handsome?”

“Well… I don’t exactly know who’s the boss but I met two guys, and the both of them were ridiculously good-looking. The one who I had the job interview with was so my style; he was lean, and his shoulders were so broad. The other one was also attractive, he had such a warm smile, and I bet it can cure diseases!”

“Oh wow,” Jennie mused, downing her glass in one go, “but you’re not gonna date any of them, right? I mean… they’re your bosses; it’s kinda inappropriate.”

“I know, don’t worry,” I quickly agreed with her. Dating superiors or even co-workers wasn’t really my style. I had always thought that nothing good could stem from mixing private and business lives, so dating either of whom was obviously out of the question. “It’s not the way I roll anyway.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jennie nodded in understanding, “and now, tell me what their company does; their ad was pretty vague if you ask me.”

“Hmm… they are just as disorganized as the ad they posted online,” I stated truthfully, remembering the small incident which had happened during the job interview. “If they want to start making money, they really need my help.”

“That’s what happens when you start to run a business without knowing how to do that,” she commented, and I nodded in agreement. Having seen them, I knew that Jin and Hoseok had no clue how to wrap their minds around their business. Thankfully, they hired me, and I could show them how it’s done.

“Yeah, I’ll teach them a thing or two, but as for now, let’s celebrate!” I spoke as I refilled our glasses with more champagne. My shift didn’t start until four o’clock anyway.

As soon as I walked through the doors, I was met by Jin and Hoseok who were wearing worried expressions on their faces. “Hello?” I asked hesitantly and only smiled at me almost as if they were relieved about something.

“Hi, how are you feeling?” Jin asked me right away, while Hoseok stared at me, analyzing even the tiniest change in my behavior. “Have you been feeling nauseous or dizzy?” I shook my head firmly. “Or have you witnessed sudden changes in temperature or anything out of the ordinary?”

“No?” I answered unsurely, as I scrutinized their facial expressions with squinted eyes. What the hell was that about? Had they done something to me without me knowing? “Why?”

“Hmm… you see, we’ve been studying psychokinetic energy, and yesterday Hoseok discovered a faint trail of spook here but when he double-checked it was gone. And since psychokinetic energy doesn’t just disappear, we assumed it followed you.” Jin explained, but truthfully I didn’t understand anything what he tried to tell me. What psychokinetic energy?

“Okay… and now explain it to me, so I could comprehend it,” I asked, and Hoseok sighed.

“Jin is trying to say that there could be a ghost that right now is somehow attached to you,” Hoseok spoke, and the color of my face changed to a lighter shade even though I wasn’t the one to believe in ghosts. “And that’s weird because ghosts usually get attached to objects and not people.”

“What is it? Is it some kind of test that you want me to pass before you hire me because, trust me, it’s not funny.” I replied, not letting them fool me.

“Unfortunately not,” Jin spoke with a guilty smile, “do you mind if we run a couple control tests before we proceed with the initiation process? You know, just to be sure there isn’t any supernatural creature feeding off you.”

“And before you say anything,” Hoseok interjected, “ghosts are real.”

“Yeah, that’s true, and we’re literally this close to proving it to the rest of the world,” Jin added matter-of-factly, and I rolled my eyes, still unconvinced. “We’re like two days away from the breakthrough of the century.”

“I’m still skeptical about it, but I guess you can run a couple of tests if they’re not painful,” I replied, wanting to get this over with the quickest it was possible. Frankly, they were as freaky as they were good-looking, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they rejected my candidature because I refused to get examined.

“Oh no, they aren’t painful,” Hoseok reassured me, and Jin led me into another room where a lot of strange objects were scattered all over the wide wooden table. “Don’t worry it’ll take thirty minutes tops.”

“Yeah, and in the meantime, I’ll explain what we do here,” Jin added as he placed a helmet on my head. It was light and made of a thousand wires.

“I’m all ears,” I sighed, as I stole a glimpse of their computer that flared with colorful lights. Was it a good thing that it kept blinking like that?

“Okay, so we’re all parapsychology doctors, and a few days ago, our dean canceled our funds.” Jin started, and I nodded, registering the new information. I would never peg them for geniuses. “We’ve done some remarkable work regarding psychokinetic and nuclear energy, and after we got sacked, we decided to finish the work by ourselves.”

“According to our math, we’re a few days away from the greatest discovery of the century. If we’re right, we can actually find ghosts and capture them!” Hoseok finished, as he glued something to my temples.

“Hmm… so that’s what you do when I’m away,” a third voice chimed in, and I recognized it right away. It was low and raspy, and it could make every woman weak. It had definitely worked on me back in my college days.

Taehyung.

Hesitantly, I turned around, a bit afraid to look into his chocolate brown eyes. It was sudden and accidental, and judging by Taehyung’s expression, it was too soon. I had got over him, but he still seemed to loathe me with every fiber of his existence.

“What is she doing here?” Taehyung asked, and Jin and Hoseok exchanged confused looks, as they had no idea what had happened between Taehyung and I. It was understandable, our past ‘relationship’ wasn’t something I would brag either.

“What do you mean?” Jin asked, scratching his temple, trying to determine why Taehyung hated me so much. “She’s gonna work with us. Hopefully, with her help, we’ll make some profit,” he added, and if only a stare could kill, the three of us would already get burnt to ashes.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Taehyung complained, trying to disguise the real reason why he didn’t want me there. I couldn’t blame him, though. I’d probably do the same thing. “She doesn’t match our style.”

“It doesn’t really matter, she was the only candidate,” Jin spoke matter-of-factly, and Taehyung bit his bottom lip before he spun on his heel and walked away.

“What was that about?” Hoseok inquired, curious about mine history with Taehyung.

“I think it’s a topic for another conversation,” I answered, hoping they would understand that I didn’t want to talk about it now. Taehyung was still sensitive, and I didn’t want to anger him any further by conceding everything to Jin and Hoseok. “Are you done with the tests?” I asked, changing the subject.

“Yeah, I think we are,” Hoseok spoke, his eyes focused on the computer, as he read the data that was unreadable to me. “But I think one of us should check your apartment. The P.K.E. meter is reading very close to 303, and it can mean a ghost is trailing behind you. It’s better to be safe than sorry, am I right?”

“Okay, whatever,” I replied with a shrug, relieved that the examination was finally over. “So what are we going to do now? Can we draw a contract?”

“Naturally,” Jin smiled at me, probably glad that everything I had witnessed didn’t scare me away by now. Though it was a bit odd, people do worse for money. I was only working as a secretary for three nut jobs.

“Show her around, and I will be waiting here,” Hoseok added politely, eager to analyze every piece of information he had managed to collect from the examination.

“Do you want to tell us what has happened between you and our new secretary?” Hoseok asked casually, trying to make him talk.

“There isn’t much to talk about,” Taehyung shrugged, trying not to show any sign of anger which was evident nonetheless. “We were dating back in college, but it didn’t work out.”

“It doesn’t sound like it,” Hoseok commented, having a hunch that Taehyung wasn’t telling him the entire truth. However, he knew it wasn’t the right time to push him further. Taehyung would concede when he was ready, and Hoseok could wait a bit more. “Is she the reason why you avoided every economic subject you could?”

“Maybe,” he answered shortly, more than unwilling to have that conversation. “Hoseok, do we really need her here? I can do the secretary work until we find someone else, it can’t be that difficult,” he offered, but Hoseok firmly shook his head.

“Nah, she’s great,” he spoke casually, “besides she’s already involved. Yesterday, when she came for the job interview, I detected P.K.E. that was gone when she left. Right now, we have a theory the ghost got attached to her. One of us has to check her apartment; do you want to do that?”

“Why would I want to do that?” Taehyung spat, folding his arms across his chest.

“You could try to put your differences aside and make this cooperation work,” Hoseok proposed, hoping it was possible despite their history. “It looks like she has got over you, so why can’t you do the same, huh?”

“It’s not like that,” Taehyung trailed off, trying to choose right words to describe his feelings. “I am over her, but I still hate her for what she did.”

“Okay, I can check her apartment if you don’t want to.”

“I’ve never said that,” Taehyung remarked, and Hoseok smirked, raising the employment contract. “Just give me that, you and Jin must finish the Proton Pack anyway.”

It was seven o’clock when I heard loud knocking on my doors. Regardless of whom it was, undoubtedly deserved some nagging for waking me up at such unholy hour. Hoseok had warned me that one of them would pay me a visit, but I didn’t expect it to happen to at least noon.

Rubbing my eyes, I got up and lazily approached the doors.

“Oh, it’s you, I didn’t expect you to come,” I spoke when I opened the doors and saw Taehyung in front of me. He still looked handsome, but definitely more mature than I remembered him.

“I always show up when there is a damsel in distress,” he said nonchalantly, as he waltzed into my apartment, not even waiting for me to invite him inside. Confidently, he strolled around the room, studying the interior. “Hmm… you haven’t changed that much. You’ve always hated tidying,” he chimed in, as he looked around my apartment.

“You haven’t changed, either. Barging in here like you own the place,” I snickered, as I folded my arms across my chest, leaning against the doorframe, watching his every move. “And though it’s too early to argue; who’s a damsel in distress? It’s obviously not me. I don’t need your saving.” I carried on, but Taehyung ignored me, not even humming in response. “I’ve already told Jin that no paranormal activity was present here.”

“You may want to take that back, sweetheart,” Taehyung said cockily, as he pulled out that blinking device and started to roam around the apartment. “You won’t be saying that when a ghost tries to eat that cute butt of yours,” he added, and I just rolled my eyes at his stupid remark; he had always loved my butt. “Hmm… it seems that Hoseok and Jin were right after all. I think you’ve got yourself a class V ghost over here.”

“Doubt it. Don’t you think I’d know if there was a ghost at my place, huh?” I replied, still not convinced. “Seriously, you guys have to chill,” I added, thinking they would drop the topic if I repeated it a couple of times more.

“Do you think we’re joking?” Taehyung asked rhetorically, and I once again rolled my eyes because it was impossible to reason with him. “We don’t. Class V ghosts are very hard to get rid of, and as long as we haven’t finished the Proton Pack, we can’t help you. It would be the best if you could stay at our HQ. We could prepare a room in which you could stay. Don’t get me wrong but if the ghost got attached to you, it could as well get attached to someone else.”

“So you’re trying to tell me that ghosts are something like paranormal STDs? Sorry, but I’m not buying that, Taehyung.” I concluded, and Taehyung didn’t seem the tiniest bit amused by my reasoning. “Thanks for your concern, but I think I’ll just stay here,” I repeated myself, and Taehyung pinched the bridge of his nose, almost as if he tried to refrain himself from snapping.

“Can you stop being so stubborn for once and listen to me? I’m serious,” Taehyung spoke in a raised voice, as he looked at me. His stare was intense, drilling holes in my head. Damn, he really meant that. “Have you noticed anything strange?”

“Define strange.”

“Well… anything out of the ordinary.” Taehyung stated vaguely, and I didn’t say anything, waiting for him to elaborate. “Hmm… that could be, for example, sudden surges of cold, extraordinary cravings, unwanted sinister presence, moving or levitating objects, strange odor, unexplainable electricity cuts, or anything of sorts?”

“Hmm… you’re the only unwanted sinister presence here,” I retorted, but once again he didn’t find it funny. “Sorry,” I apologized when my laughter died down a bit, “but seriously; nothing strange is happening here.”

“Then how are you going to explain this?” Taehyung spoke angrily, as he shoved the blinking device right in front of my face. “The P.K.E. meter is going crazy!”

“Okay, fine, I guess I can stay at Jennie’s for a few days,” I mumbled, being mad at myself for giving in; they were probably having the time of their lives seeing me comply with their crazy request. “For your peace of mind, not because I believe you.”

“You’ll thanks us later,” Taehyung admitted confidently, smirking at me.

“Once again, doubt it,” I repeated myself, hoping that my statement would brush that cocky smirk off his beautiful face. Unfortunately, none of this happened, his stance was still as nonchalant and confident.

“So… you’re seeing anybody?” Taehyung asked casually and plopped down on the couch, turning his head sideways as if he tried to spot any sign of man presence.

“I don’t see how any of it is your business,” I smiled warmly, trying to be as polite as I could master. It was a sensitive topic to me, and frankly, Taehyung was the last person I wanted to discuss that with.

“It’s called a friendly chit-chat,” Taehyung explained, and I rolled my eyes. “So… have you already found your Mr. Right?”

“You’re being a dick right now,” I said instead of answering his question. Despite our history, he was my boss now, and that kind of inquiry was inappropriate and should remain unanswered.

Unexpectedly, guys happened to be right about the ghost issue at my apartment; three days after Taehyung’s visit they showed up with ready Proton Packs, or whatever they call it, and got rid of the unwanted creature. Of course, I insisted on accompanying them, and they unwillingly complied with my request. I was glad they did because when I saw the ghost with my own eyes, I realized how thick-skinned I was to disbelieve them.

However, the fact that I believed them didn’t change much, as people still deceived us as con-artists. The first month was rough although I busted my ass off building the company image. They’re brilliant people, but they had no idea how to run a business.

Within that month I got promoted from the secretary position to being their full-time manager who also had one-fourth of the company shares, and since the business was partially mine, I couldn’t let it sink before it even got to sail.

Thanks to my knowledge and connections, I had almost got everything covered: an official website, local advertisement channels, and even the uniforms. None of these helped as much as our first task which happened to be a turning point for the business.

A famous four-star hotel’s manager called us saying they had an issue in the restaurant zone. Our reaction was fast; within an hour guys packed their equipment and drove there, wanting to examine the situation.

After successfully busting the ghost, our business bloomed.

“I got a call from Australia; they’re holding a seminar, and they want you to give a lecture on your recent development,” I told Jin as soon as he slid down the fire pole. “Are you going to participate or not?”

“You’re for real?” Jin asked, as he brushed the dust off his coat and approached my desk. Smiling, I nodded, and Jin looked at the counter as if trying to see the papers, making sure I wasn’t pulling a prank on him. “But if we go, then who will take care of the city? We get more calls every day.”

“We can split,” I proposed, and Jin glanced at me curiously. “You can teach me how to use the gear, and I will stay behind with someone, or I can go to Australia with one of you. I’m a part of the team, after all.”

“Hmm… I don’t know… it’s gonna be difficult to convince them to stay behind because I’m certainly going.” Jin spoke, and I giggled at his honest response. I couldn’t blame him, though. How could one reject a free Australia trip offer?

“Discuss it with the guys, and let me know what you’ve come up with,” I replied sincerely, as I gazed at Jin. I admit it’d be great to go on a free trip. However, I wasn’t going to intrude if they wanted to go. After all, the scientists from all over the world wanted to meet with them because of their breakthrough in the parapsychological field.

“What are you two plotting?” Taehyung walked inside through the main doors, catching me and Jin off guard. Immediately, Jin leaned back, and spun on his heel, greeting Taehyung with a broad smile which he often used when he did something he shouldn’t have. It was strange because we didn’t do anything inappropriate.

“Nothing,” Jin answered dismissively and smiled at me, letting Taehyung know right away that we were up to something. “We were just talking, but I have a surprise for you and Hoseok,” he announced, and Taehyung cocked his eyebrow suspiciously.

“What’s going on?”

“I’ll explain everything later.”

“Okay, so tell us…what happened between you and Taehyung?” Hoseok asked straightforwardly, taking advantage of Taehyung’s absence. Taehyung was out to take care of some business that none of us dared to question, while the three of us was sitting around the table, unpacking the Styrofoam boxes full of palatable, steaming, Italian food.

“Yeah, what exactly happened? Taehyung mentioned that you two were dating, but he didn’t go into details.” Jin added matter-of-factly, as he distributed the napkins and plastic cutlery among us. “So…do you mind to elaborate?”

“There’s nothing to tell,” I stated casually, being focused on the box in front of me, my mouth watering when the delicious smell hit my nostrils. “We fooled around in college, but I wouldn’t call it dating. We were more like friends with benefits rather than lovers.”

“And I’m assuming you were the one to break things off. Am I right?” Jin guessed, and I heaved a sigh since the matter was much more difficult. It was safe to say that the blame had been lying on both sides of the conflict.

“You seem way cooler than Taehyung about it, so you had to be the one to break up with him.” Hoseok agreed with Jin, giving him a high-five.

“We weren’t an item, so it’s quite difficult to talk about a break-up.” I started before I stuffed my mouth with food. “I was going abroad for one semester, and Taehyung wasn’t happy about it. He didn’t want me to go, but I didn’t listen to him. And when I returned Taehyung had already graduated, so we never had a chance to talk about it. I thought he’s moved on, but apparently, I was wrong.”

My sincere confession got them speechless; neither of whom knew how to react to it, and I couldn’t blame them for the awkwardness that stemmed from it.

“Okay, so changing the subject; have you guys figured out what you want to do about that seminar? As far as I recall, I have to give them a reply by next Friday.” I said, knowing that it was the only way to dodge the unpleasant topic.

“You have no idea how much we fought about it,” Hoseok started with a cheeky smile, stabbing his food with a plastic knife, being probably already full.

“But we’ve come to an agreement,” Jin continued, pushing his half-empty box aside, giving me his undivided attention. “Generally, all of us want to go, and among of us Taehyung is the best public speaker,” Jin announced, and I nodded, understanding their way of thinking.

“But then again, he doesn’t trust either one of us to stay here with you alone,” Hoseok interjected, making me roll my eyes. It’s so typical of Taehyung; getting jealous without any cogent reason to. “Whatever that means.”

“Yeah, and furthermore, he doesn’t want to train you saying it would be too dangerous for you to deal with all the equipment which is complete bullshit because it’s not that difficult.”

“Jin’s right; you have to remember five ground rules and everything should be fine,” Hoseok added, backing up Jin’s statement. “I have no idea what’s happening under Taehyung’s skull, but I’ve never seen him being so overprotective.”

“Okay, stop. You’re confusing me. Can you just tell me who is going and who is staying here?” I asked, growing annoyed, as they didn’t let me get a word in the edgeways.

“Hoseok and I are going, but don’t worry; we’re gonna bring you a lot of gifts.” Jin declared quickly, and I sighed in relief. Drowning in uncertainty was the worst option; I’d rather know now, so I could mentally brace myself to spend the weekend with Taehyung.

“Actually, we already have a gift for you, just finish your dinner,” Hoseok added enthusiastically, smiling at me in a way that if I didn’t know him, I’d consider creepy.

“I think I’m done,” I quickly replied, as I pushed my box aside. I was already full, and I didn’t want to force myself to finish it, although it was absolutely delectable. I’d probably heat it up for supper. “Where is my gift?” I inquired when I wiped my mouth.

“She’s gonna love it,” Jin said casually, and Hoseok nodded his head, agreeing with the former. At this point, I had no idea what they were getting me, and I wasn’t sure whether I should be ecstatic or terrified.

“Just wait here, I’ll get it,” Hoseok proposed, and marched out of the room.

“What is it?” I questioned further in anticipation; it had to be something special if they were so excited about my reaction. Unfortunately, Jin’s lips were sealed, and no matter what I tried to open them, they remained airtight, spilling no secrets. “You’re no fun.”

“Oh, shut up!” Jin whined loudly, and I giggled because the look on his face was priceless.

Before I managed to anger Jin any further, Hoseok returned with a medium-sized, pink box in his hands. Now, I was intrigued. It definitely wasn’t an envelope with a plane ticket.

Carefully, Hoseok placed the box on my lap, urging me to unwrap the present, “come on, open up!” Smiling, they stared at me, almost giving me chills.

Slowly, I untied the ribbon, whereas Hoseok tapped his foot impatiently.

“Jesus Christ, hurry up,” Jin chipped in, prompting me to hasten.

Shaking my head, I opened the box and looked inside, its content getting me speechless. It was one of the Ghostbusters uniforms, only one shade more pink with my name written on the badge with silver and hot pink threads. I knew they considered me a part of the team, but right now, I was holding the evidence of membership in my hands.

“Guys, I love it,” I admitted from the bottom of my heart before I jumped off the chair and hugged them tightly. “Do you want me to try it on?” I asked once I broke the embrace.

“Naturally, but don’t be too eager, we also have a Proton Pack for you, and that damn thing is pretty weighty,” Hoseok warned me, but I just shrugged; they run around with Proton Packs all the time, it couldn’t be that bad as they wanted me to believe.

“You’re officially one of us,” Jin stated matter-of-factly, as he ruffled my hair, making me glare at him. That’s going too far! We were friends, but touching my hair was way too much.

“Don’t fuck it up.” Hoseok threatened me with his finger, sounding like a completely different person. “Taehyung is gonna kill us if anything happens to you.”

“If you know how to operate the machines, it’s obvious I can do that, too.” I snickered playfully, and Jin and Hoseok frowned, not finding it the tiniest bit funny.

The next day after Jin and Hoseok’s departure was peaceful compared to our standards; we only had three customers, while typically we were handling at least half a dozen. The first mission wasn’t scheduled until 4 p.m., yet I decided to show up at the office a bit early in hopes of catching up with the paperwork.

As always, it was dull, but no one would do it for me, so I had to suck it up.

“Hmm…I didn’t expect you to be here so early,” a voice mused from behind my back, and I quickly turned around in shock. “Oh, have you forgotten to put on a skirt?” Taehyung sneered, as he glanced at me from head to toe.

“Excuse you, but my skirt is where it should be. It’s pretty modest if you ask me.” I couldn’t let his comments get to me. At this point, I could consider his snarky remarks as sexual harassment; we were in the confines of work, and there was an ethic that he ought to follow. “And what are you doing here? I thought I wouldn’t see you until the first appointment.”

“You seriously think I’m gonna let you out there without proper training?!” Taehyung gasped, and I rolled my eyes. Jin and Hoseok had already shown me what I should know, so Taehyung’s additional guidance was superfluous. “You’re not leaving the firehouse until I tell you, you’re ready,” he added, as he took a few, slow steps towards me.

“Why are you doing this?” I inquired quietly, and Taehyung just smirked at me, as if he was surprised that I didn’t know his motive.

“Isn’t it obvious? I care about you; I don’t want you to get hurt.” Taehyung spoke in a firm tone, so unlike him. His eyes gleamed with sincerity, making it unable to tear my gaze away. With one single look, he had me enchanted. Only a few sweet words came out of his mouth, and I held my breath, my heart skipping a beat.

Right now, when we were alone, and no one could disturb us, he didn’t act like a brat. I felt as if we were back in college, carefree and so saccharine. He no longer was a man who tried to make me feel bad about my past choices, but he actually cared about my well-being.

It was a delightful change after countless arguments we had over the previous month.

“What? You look like as if you’ve seen a ghost. Is my care so surprising?” Taehyung joked, and I almost burst out laughing at his lame pun. Thankfully, I refrained myself from doing so.

“As a matter of fact, yes.” Yesterday, he had acted as if he wished for my ass to get eaten by a ghost, so what was different today? “I thought you hated me.”

“I could never,” Taehyung quickly admitted, smiling sheepishly.

Okay, what the hell is happening?

His sudden confession got me speechless. I didn’t expect him to concede to me. Who the hell was he, and where did the real Taehyung go?

“Well…if that’s what you really feel, I gotta admit you’re sending mixed signals.” I spoke truthfully, making Taehyung roll his eyes on me. Perhaps, I was nitpicking, but Taehyung was unbearable for the past month, and I couldn’t let it slide after a couple of sweet words. No, I remembered how coldly he had treated me, and if he wanted me to change my mind about him, he had to work hard for it.

“I admit I have never been good at romance,” said Taehyung, and I giggled when his words rang in my ears. Was he serious? Did he just call it ‘romance’? What romance?

“You can’t be serious,” I replied, pinching the bridge of my nose. So what now? Did he want to start over? With me? It didn’t make any sense! We had never even been a couple! “Okay, let’s get back to some real problems. What do I have to do to convince you that I’m ready to be one of the Ghostbusters?”

“Stubborn as always,” Taehyung commented under his breath, as he strolled toward me, sitting at the edge of my desk, holding my dangling hand. His grip was gentle, his skin was smooth, and at first, I wanted to yank my hand back. He was trying to mess with my head, but I was ready to prove that he didn’t have the effect that had used to work on me. I was stronger and smarter, and he couldn’t charm me as easily.

“So what is it that I have to know?” I urged him, and he slowly looked into my eyes, biting his bottom lip, swaying our entwined hands from side to side.

Whatever he had in mind to use on me was bound to fail. Right now, I focused on my career, and boyfriend drama (if he even sought a relationship) was the least of my worries.

“Where should I begin?”

Having sat through a two-hour long lecture (which pretty much helped me realize why they had got fired from the university and doubled everything Jin and Hoseok had told me before their departure), Taehyung let me pick up the equipment what I did with a roll of my eyes. Taehyung thought I had no clue how to operate the gear, but he was wrong; Jin and Hoseok had already shown me everything that I should have known.

Hesitantly, Taehyung let me tag along with him.

First two assignments happened to be false alarms; we arrived, and then Taehyung diagnosed the situation with the P.K.E. meter and Ecto-Goggles. I was relieved our customers weren’t in danger, but on the other hand, we weren’t earning money, and we were barely making both ends meet with the regular service. (The diagnosis fee constituted about 5% of actual ghost-busting service, and we probably wouldn’t live off it.)

“Thank God, you’re finally here,” a middle-aged woman ran out of the building and threw herself in Taehyung’s arm like a damsel in distress, even though he didn’t perceive her as one. “I was so scared,” she added, as she rubbed her cheek against Taehyung’s chest. He didn’t seem pleased with her behavior, but he was too well-bred that he didn’t try to push her off him right away.

“Calm down, what’s going on?” Taehyung asked worriedly, as he placed his large hands on her shoulders, making her face him. She looked terrified. “Everything’s under control now, but you have to tell us what’s going on,” Taehyung explained, and looked at me, the woman only noticing my presence when she followed Taehyung’s gaze.

“There’s a ghost on the tenth floor!” She shouted, turning around, raising her arm, pointing at the hotel behind her. “I’ve seen it! It was green, and it almost ate the cleaning trolley!” Taehyung furrowed his eyebrows, and I knew that something was up.

“Okay, please, stay here, and we’ll look around,” Taehyung spoke calmly.

Having sighed, I walked inside right after Taehyung.

“What was that look about?” I inquired, once we were climbing the stairs. The elevator was out of order, and we had to take the stairs. The Proton Pack felt twice as heavy, almost making me fall backward.

“What look?” Without turning to me, Taehyung asked, pretending to be clueless. Did he forget that we’ve known each other inside out, and I could tell straight away that something was off? Maybe, he could fool that woman, but not me.

“Don’t play coy,” I stated, as I took a short break to catch my breath. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Abruptly, Taehyung stopped, and I was thankful that I wasn’t standing right behind him.

“It’s about what she said.” He started vaguely, and I didn’t say anything, waiting for him to elaborate. I knew how to use the equipment, but I had no idea how to identify the threat. Were we to deal with a powerful being? Was he scared? What was going on?

“And what did she say exactly?”

“I just have a bad feeling, okay?” Taehyung continued, though hesitantly. “But whatever happens there, I want you to stay behind, and leave everything to me. I can handle it myself.”

“Sure,” I replied, even when I didn’t really mean it. If Taehyung needed my help, I’d intervene in a heartbeat. It was foolish of him if he really thought I’d listen to him.

When we reached the tenth floor, my legs almost gave in under the gravity and the weight of the Proton Pack. I placed my hands on my knees and leaned in, trying to catch a breath. If we had to go any higher, I’d probably faint. Taehyung seemed in a better condition than I, but I still could hear him panting.

Pushing his fringe off his eyes, Taehyung pulled out the P.K.E. meter, and I looked at the device, trying to peek what kind of ghost we were to deal with.

“What does it mean?” I asked, when the P.K.E. meter showed 432, and I had no idea how to interpret the reading. Slowly, Taehyung turned toward me, his face a shade paler.

“It’s not as bad as it could get, but it could be easier,” Taehyung started, and I exhaled in relief. Before he spoke, I had no idea I was holding my breath. “We’re not dealing with a Biblical Proportions here, but I think it’s a class V apparition, and if there’s anything you should know, ghosts with a reading like this should not be easy to get rid of.”

“Okay…” I whispered, now doubting my qualifications. Not that I’d like to return to my desk and answer phone calls, but it would be better if my first real ghost-busting mission was simple.

“Get ready, the ghost can attack us anytime,” Taehyung mentioned, and I nodded my head, placing my hand on the Particle Thrower. “And remember what I’ve told you, never ever cross the streams.”

“How could I forget it? You guys use that line literally every day,” I muttered under my breath, and rolled my eyes, slightly lightening up the situation. Humor always works when there’s thick and uncomfortable tension, so why this time should be any different? “Maybe you should get it tattooed?”

“Ha-ha, very funny,” Taehyung laughed dryly, his eyes roaming around the corridor, being ready for the ghost to appear. Frankly, he looked handsome, so focused and professional.

“Can you tell me more about class V ghosts? Is it as bad as you make it look like?” I asked curiously, and Taehyung looked over his shoulder as if he was shocked I didn’t read Jin’s book about ghost classification system, CDI system for short.

“Maybe, you should wait in the car,” Taehyung stated, as he shook his head in disbelief that he actually let a newbie work with him. “I can handle it myself.”

“Don’t tell me if you don’t want to. Geez!” I retorted, and sighed, looking around, pretending I didn’t ask him that question. Maybe I should listen to him and let him do everything by himself if he really didn’t want my help.

“Class V ghosts are Ectoplasmic manifestations of definite but non-human form. They are formed from emotionally-charged events or as side effects from ritual summoning. And we need a shit tone of proton pack implementation to eradicate it.” Taehyung recited, and I nodded in comprehension, as I tried to remember as much information as I could.

“Do you hear that?” I asked when I heard a strange sound, familiar to chewing. The hotel’s owner had said that people had got evacuated, so what the hell was that?

“Stay back,” Taehyung mentioned before he moved forward, following the odd noise. Slowly, I copied his movements, the Particle Thrower in my grip. “Oh shit,” Taehyung cursed, as he looked around the corner, spotting the ghosts. Taehyung seemed scared, so I peeked, curiosity getting the better of me.

Behind the corner was a green, levitating ghost who was in the middle of its meal; with big, yellow teeth it was eating a cake, the chewed bites falling onto the ground, making the mess around it. Slowly, its fetor hit my nostrils, and I immediately covered my face in disgust.

“Ew! What the hell is that?” I asked, and Taehyung chuckled at my reaction.

“A ghost, really nasty one at that,” Taehyung mused, but I didn’t find it funny. “And apparently, it eats anything that’s not nailed down or on fire,” he added, when he took a glimpse of the green creature, which right now was consuming the metal tray where the cake used to be.

“Okay, so what’s the plan? A penny for your thoughts,” I questioned, waiting for him to explain our next move. We couldn’t just jump from behind the corner and shoot the ghost with the Particle Thrower.

Casually, Taehyung pulled out his phone and snapped a photo. Strangely enough, the ghost got caught on the snapshot, which was a rare occurrence. We stared attentively at the picture on Taehyung’s phone, not recognizing the moment when the ghost stopped chewing the cake. When I mentioned that fact, the green cloud of electrons, neutrons, and ectoplasm seeped through the wall and my body, leaving a very unpleasant taste on my tongue. The feeling was eerie, and I was on the verge of vomiting.

“Are you alright?” Taehyung asked me, although his eyes focused on the ghost behind me. I nodded my head, though it wasn’t an entire truth. “On the count of three, you’ll drop to your knees, okay?” He ordered as he reached for the Particle Thrower, ready to attack.

Slowly, Taehyung counted to three in a half-whisper, and I bent, sinking to my knees in front of Taehyung. When I was out of the stream range, Taehyung turned on the Proton Pack which immediately produced a bright, powerful stream of particles. He didn’t catch the ghost, though. It disappeared behind the wall.

“Get the Ghost Trap ready,” Taehyung mentioned, as he used the card key, and we entered the nearest room. “When I confine the ghost, you have to roll the trap under it, and stomp on the pedal, you got it?”

“Sure,” I confirmed, as I reached for the Ghost Trap.

“It’s fully charged, right?” Taehyung asked, and I nodded since I had made sure the battery was on 100% before we left the firehouse. Jin and Hoseok had told me the Ghost Trap could malfunction if not charged fully, and I wasn’t going to make that neophyte mistake. “And remember not to look into the trap. A glimpse can cause serious eye damage or even blindness, and we don’t want anything bad to happen to your pretty eyes.”

“Don’t worry, I know how to use it,” I replied, trying to ignore the weird compliment.

“Come out, Stinky!” Taehyung yelled as if he was some kind of ghosts-whisperer. “I have one delicious snack for you.” He shouted loudly to no one in particular, and I giggled, finding the scene happening in front of me ridiculous.

Taehyung and I exchanged glances, but he quickly ripped his gaze away when the similar fetor pervaded the room, boding the presence of a paranormal being. Once again, Taehyung turned on the Proton Pack, aiming at the source of the odor. Before the stream hit the ghost, the orange light burnt everything within its reach.

“What are you doing it? Catch him,” I urged Taehyung before he destroyed the room. The ghost was flying around the room, and he couldn’t capture him with the stream, looking like a newbie.

“I’m trying!” Taehyung defended himself, but I only rolled my eyes, and placed my hand on the Particle Thrower, wondering if I should help Taehyung. I was about to operate the Ghost Trap, but it’s pretty useless when the ghost’s on the loose.

Sighing, I pulled the Particle Thrower and aimed. For a brief second, Taehyung looked at me, fear visible in his eyes. He didn’t trust me with it, and I couldn’t blame him; it was a dangerous weapon, after all. Maybe it was reckless, but Taehyung wasn’t effective on his own, so I had to intervene.

When I pressed the button, the Proton-Gun generated raw nuclear energy which hit the ghost, making me stumble backward.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Taehyung yelled at me when he turned off his Proton Pack. The consequence of crossing the streams is so great that he didn’t want to risk it, especially when such an inexperienced person as me was using it. “Turn it off!” he screamed, but I ignored him, since the ghost was already captured, almost nullified by now. He had to be joking.

“Get the Ghost Trap ready,” I mentioned, as I gently kicked it toward him. The ghost was trying to wiggle out of the lasso of a positronic ionized stream of proton energy, but I firmly clenched the Particle Thrower in my hands, using 100% of its power.

“This is the first and last time I let you tag along!” Taehyung shouted, but prepared the Ghost Trap nonetheless. Skillfully, he untangled the wires and rolled the small device toward the ghost. “When I turn it on you gotta shut the Proton Pack down, you got it?”

“Yep,” I nodded quickly.

“On the count of three,” Taehyung exclaimed, and I focused deeply, trying to synchronize with him. When the last syllable rolled off his tongue, I took my finger off the trigger. Panting, I stared at the ghost who was being slowly consumed by the electromagnetic field. “Don’t look into the trap!” He yelled, but I was too engrossed in the scene in front of me.

“What?” I asked, not tearing my gaze away. You could see the ghost getting drawn into the trap, piece by piece utilized inside the small Ecto Containment Unit.

“Don’t fucking look into the trap!” Taehyung yelled again, this time much louder, and when I didn’t listen to him right away, he yanked me toward him, letting me fall into his chest, as he placed his hand on the back of my head, pulling me closer, pressing me against his frame. “You must start listening. You could lose your sight.” Taehyung warmed me, but he didn’t sound mad. If anything, I detected care and relief.

“Sorry,” I spoke, when I looked up at him, admiring his face from up close. With his arms wrapped around me, I could feel warmth emitting from him. Being in his embrace felt comfortable and secure, and although we had never put much attention to none sexual type of affection, I realized how much we had missed out on. “I won’t do that again.”

“Of course, you don’t,” Taehyung replied coldly, taking a step backward as if he grasped our interaction was inappropriate. “It was the last time I brought you with me. Do you have any idea how reckless that was?”

“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” I admitted, and Taehyung rolled his eyes at me.

Taehyung was silent during our ride back to the headquarters; he was reading something on his phone, whereas I was listening to the news flash on the radio, maneuvering the vehicle. The night was tranquil; the sky was in a beautiful shade of navy, even a couple of stars seen over the horizon. The scenery was breathtaking, but I couldn’t enjoy it as much as I wished since the recent dispute with Taehyung kept surfacing when I tried to focus on something, anything else.

When I stopped upon seeing the red light, my phone rang. Quickly, I reached into the glove compartment and pulled out the Bluetooth earpiece, putting it into my right ear.

“Hello?” I asked as soon as I answered the call. On the other end of the line, I heard a lot of background noise before Jin’s soft voice greeted me excitedly. “Oh, hi, what’s up?” I inquired, wondering what he wanted from me. If I were on a seminar abroad, calling home would be the last position on my priorities’ list.

“I’m just checking up on you,” Jin casually stated, and I smiled at the thought of Jin and Hoseok calling me to find out if Taehyung and I had already jumped at each other’s throats. “How is work with Taehyung? Is he a pain in the ass?”

“Hmm…I’d say bearable,” I replied unsurely. Taehyung had been nice, but then I had done something he hadn’t wanted me to, and then everything had gone downhill. I could use Jin to vent about Taehyung, but they were on a trip, and I couldn’t ruin it for them. “And what about you? Are you having fun?” I asked, changing the subject. Our conversation would be way more enjoyable if we changed the direction it was going; I’d much rather discuss their trip than another round of a passionate dispute between Taehyung and I.

“It’s a paradise. You can check out Hoseok’s Instagram updates. It’s nothing compared to the real feel, though. I wished you were here with us.” Jin simply said, and I smiled again, imagining what I’m missing out on.

“I wished I was with you, too,” I confessed genuinely, realizing that Taehyung’s eyes were on me, as he tried to decipher whom I was talking to. “But it’s okay; we’ll have more opportunities in the future, right?”

“Obviously,” Jin agreed swiftly, “we’re handing out our business cards just like you told us to. I think we’ll soon make it big.” He added, and I smiled brightly, not even trying to disguise how proud I was. “I gotta go now. Hoseok’s coming with our drinks. Talk to you later.”

“Don’t have too much fun without me.” I chimed in playfully, “and try not to miss me.”

“Who was that?” Taehyung asked, as soon as I hung up. Hesitantly, I looked at him upon seeing his upset cast.

“Jin, obviously. Who else?” I spoke, rolling my eyes. “He wanted to say hi, that’s all. Why?”

“Are you two screwing?” Taehyung accused, and I chucked. How the hell did he come up with it? It was a casual conversation without even a slimmer of flirtation, so it was bizarre how he read into that. I shook my head in denial, but Taehyung didn’t seem convinced. “It didn’t sound like it.”

“I mean…Jin’s handsome, I agree. Don’t worry, I know better than dating my co-workers. It’s strictly business,” I explained, but once again, Taehyung didn’t seem pleased with my response. “We’re friends, of course, but nothing more.”

Taehyung didn’t reply. He just nodded in acknowledgment and looked away, focusing on his phone again. Whatever he was seeking, it was more important than telling me why he had thrown all his accusations toward me. I wasn’t dating Jin, but it was none of his business, so why bothered asking?

Thankfully, we were almost on our driveway. I couldn’t wait to exit the car, change out of the Ghostbusters uniform and come back home. I had spent way too much time with Taehyung today, and I wished I could relax somewhere far away from him.

Taehyung was the first one to get out of the vehicle, and I followed right behind him.

“Thank you, Tae,” I spoke, and Taehyung stopped in his trucks, yet not turning around to face me. Maybe it’d be easier for me to admit to my fault if I didn’t have to look into his sharp eyes. “I know you told me not to look, and I’m sorry for ignoring your warnings. You said it’s my last mission, and I’m gonna respect your decision. Today was fun by the way.” I voiced my thoughts from the bottom of my heart, and I hoped Taehyung could feel the genuineness in my words.

Once again, Taehyung remained silent, completely ignoring my veracity. I couldn’t blame him; he was still mad at me, and a couple of kind words didn’t have the power to outweigh the consequences of my previous actions. He felt wronged, and if I were in his shoes, I wouldn’t get over it so quickly, either.

Slowly, I strolled toward him.

“I have no idea what could happen to me if we crossed the streams or stared longer into the trap, but I’m glad you kept me safe,” I added with a bittersweet smile on my face. Taehyung hated me, yet he had proven to be a bigger person who helped me notwithstanding our past discord.

Taehyung turned around, staring down at me. He didn’t say a word, yet his eyes were drilling holes in mine, the conveyed message as lucid. Right now, his anger was agitated with ease and solicitude.

“I’m truly thankful,” I mentioned honestly, smiling weakly at him. In the heat of the moment, I got on my toes, leaning to place a chaste peck on his lips. The kiss lasted a second tops, and when I pulled back, Taehyung grabbed my arm and yanked me back.

“You can’t walk away after what you’ve just done,” Taehyung spoke quietly, his eyes sparkling, searching mine. “You’re annoying, reckless, and irresponsible. Do you know that?” He added, and when I opened my mouth to answer his rhetorical question, he beat me to it, pressing his soft lips against mine, initiating another simple kiss.

We shouldn’t be doing it, but when his lips were on mine, and his hands holding me close, I couldn’t think straight, let alone push him away. His body emitted the familiar warmth, and with each passing second, I was becoming cozier and cozier.

Gradually, he tilted his head to the side, deepening the kiss, sucking on my bottom lip excitedly until I let out a hushed moan. It had been a while since I made out with anyone, and God, how much had I missed affection. And the fact of Taehyung being an excellent kisser didn’t help my situation, at all.

I ought to have fought with the temptation, but after a minute in Taehyung’s arms, I didn’t even want to. Despite the loud protests of my consciousness, I gave into the fascination, as I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. It didn’t make any sense, but I craved his intimacy.

“Did you mean it?” Taehyung asked as he withdrew a couple of centimeters to voice his doubts. His breath tickled my wet lips, as he waited for my reply. “You know…about dating your co-workers.”

“Yes,” I admitted, and when my response rang in his ears, Taehyung quickly dropped his hands, which were holding my cheeks. With a disappointed sigh, he looked down at his feet. “I’ve never treated you like a co-worker, though,” I stated firmly, entwining my fingers with his. “You’ve always been something more, Taehyung,” I confessed, and Taehyung immediately lit up, smashing his lips against mine, his hands landing on my bottom, as he jerked me toward him.

“That’s all I need to know,” Taehyung whispered, barely lifting his lips off of mine. “Baby, I missed you so much,” he confessed, as he squeezed my left ass-cheek playfully. “It was a torture to see you every day and being unable to do anything.”

“Shut the hell up,” I murmured with a wide smile on my face, as I brushed my nose against his fondly before I sealed our lips together in a gentle, synchronized smooch. “Haven’t you heard that actions speak louder than words?” I remarked, rubbing my body against him, catching him off guard.

“We shouldn’t,” Taehyung breathed out, as he rested his forehead on mine, his eyes shut close.

“We shouldn’t do a lot of stuff,” I agreed with him casually, a smirk decorating my face when I ran my hand across his chest and shoulders. “It has never stopped us before, though,” I added, as I nipped his earlobe mischievously.

“You can’t talk to me like that!” Taehyung spoke loudly, taking a small step backward before he pulled down my uniform’s zipper. “You haven’t had clothes underneath that the whole time?” he questioned, although he already knew the answer. “Tsk, tsk,” he shook his head, pushing the uniform off my shoulders, letting it pool around my feet.

“Don’t stare at me like that! You’re creeping me out right now,” I whined, as I kicked off my shoes and discarded the bothersome uniform. His lingering stare was flattering, but when he didn’t put those large hands in action, I felt a little under-pampered.

Standing almost bare in front of him, I trembled, what didn’t go unnoticed by Taehyung. Instantly, he wrapped his arms around my waist, the heat radiating off him. “Maybe we should talk first,” Taehyung proposed but gulped when I touched his groin. “Okay, I tried.”

Abruptly, Taehyung picked me up and carried me to the break room. We had no time to waste, and he lastly understood that too. During our work together, we had been playing cat and mouse, but it was about time to bury the hatchet. We’re finally on the same team after years of the matchup.

“I wonder if you’re as sweet as you used to be,” Taehyung spoke, as he gently placed me down and got on his knees. “Your pussy was as sweet as your mouth was bitter,” he added before his long, slender fingers tugged my panties to the side, allowing him to touch my bare folds.

“Taehyung–

I moaned his name, as I squeezed my legs together when he started to touch my slit, making him smirk. Gently, he leaned forward and pressed his lips on my skin, drawing a trail of delicate pecks across my left thigh.

“It’s been a while since anyone treasured you the way you deserve it,” Taehyung concluded, his breath tickling my skin. “Let me remind you,” he added, and I leaned my back against the wall, knowing my legs wouldn’t be able to support my weight if Taehyung was to keep his promise. He had always known how to make me weak, and right now, I was sure he didn’t forget his moves.

“Please,” I breathed out, tilting my head backward when Taehyung’s fingers massaged my folds, his mouth already on my pelvis, slowly kissing his way down to my clit. “Oh God,” I shuddered, quickly reaching out to hold myself onto something.

“I’m seriously concerned, it has always taken forever for you to come,” Taehyung commented playfully, looking up at me. “And look at you right now, almost squirting on my fingers,” he added, and I bit my bottom lip, too embarrassed to admit how long it had been.

“Tae, please,” I begged when Taehyung pushed his long finger inside of me, his tongue teasing my clit, making me hold my breath, my teeth clenched. “Fuck,” I moaned; he added another finger, as he pumped in and out mercilessly, his mouth now sucking my most sensitive nub.

“Do you like it?” Taehyung pulled away to ask, but I only ran my hand through his hair, forcing him to return to eating me out. “You’ve always been needy,” he commented, as his free hand groped my bottom, squeezing it, making me jerk my hips forward.

“And you’ve never let me come without me begging,” I made a remark, but Taehyung only smirked. Lazily, he flicked his tongue what induced my legs to shake when he found the right spot, allowing me to feel very first sparks of pleasure.

“You know me too well,” Taehyung teased, and I rolled my eyes, not expecting him to take me any other way. I didn’t mind it, though. He was a pain in the ass, but he had always put my needs above his, making sure I was the first one to reach the blissful peak. Moreover, sex with him had never been monotonous, as he had tended to come with something new each time we were intimate.

“Mmm…” I purred through clenched teeth, when Taehyung’s fingers pumped inside of me swiftly, stretching me before he fucks me properly with his cock. “Taehyung…” his name rolled off my tongue, and I knew how much my cries of excitement kept him going.

“What is it, baby?” he asked, as he looked at me. His eyes were shining with its unwavering spark, his reddened lips glistening with his saliva and my juices. “Do you want me to stop?” I looked at him, my eyes hooded, observing his infamous smirk of pride.

“What do you think?” I dismissed his question, breathing heavily. His ministrations turned me on, making me a complete mess under the power of his touch, though I wasn’t going to admit that and stroke his ego anymore. It was already big, and I barely could handle his cocky attitude.

“I don’t know, you tell me,” he spoke as he licked his lips, humming in delight. “God, you’re delicious, as always.”

“Please, Taehyung, touch me, I missed your fingers,” I whined much to Taehyung’s enjoyment. He knew how he made me feel, and he shamelessly used it to his advantage. “I bet you can make me come around them,” I challenged him, and his eyes brightened with confidence.

“If you keep talking like that, I may not be able to control myself any longer,” Taehyung confessed, and I realized he was aching for my affection too. He was on his knees, caressing me as if I was made of china, fulfilling my every wish, whereas I didn’t even touch him yet. Still, in his uniform, his cock was restrained underneath a thick layer of clothing.

“Let me take care of you, Tae,” I whispered when I brushed my hand against his cheek. Instantly, he looked me in the eyes, slowly standing up, his gaze focused on my lips. “Please,” I started when I reached to his zipper, pulling it down. Unlike me, he wore regular clothes under the uniform. It wasn’t problematic, though. With my help, we quickly got rid of the annoying fabric.

“Look what you do to me,” said Taehyung when I pulled down his boxers, releasing his hard cock. Gently, he grabbed his length and gave it a couple of strokes. I had seen him jerk off million times before, but when I observed him right now, it turned me on as much as when he had his fingers shoved inside of me. “Help me,” he whispered, as he reached out for my hand, guiding it to his cock.

Smirking, I grabbed his member around its base, caressing it annoyingly slowly, knowing he favored going fast. Usually, I wouldn’t tease him like that, but it was the payback, and he got what he deserved. My hand sensually rubbed the precum into his length, making him throw his head back and shut his eyes under my touch.

“Somebody’s excited,” I taunted him as soon as I felt him twitch in my hand. Taehyung couldn’t wait for more, and he didn’t even have to voice his needs; his body showed me exactly what he yearned.

Slowly, yet steadily picking up my pace, I blew my hair off my face and looked into Taehyung’s dark eyes as if trying to figure out what was going on inside his head.

“Tell me what you want, Tae,” I whispered, licking his earlobe. “And I may give you just that,” I added, letting my breath tickle his wet skin. Gently, I brushed my nose against his neck, waiting for his reply. His heart was beating rapidly, and I heard him swallowing hard before he could formulate his answer.

“I’ve got one hell of a list actually,” Taehyung said after a moment of thinking. He seriously seemed deep in his thoughts, and considering the playful smirk that appeared on his face, he meant it. “We won’t cross everything out at once, that’s for sure.”

“I don’t reckon it as a onetime thing,” I admitted, and Taehyung grinned at me in relief.

“I don’t either,” Taehyung confirmed, planting a chaste kiss on my lips. “I’m so glad that we’re on the same page for once,” he added seductively, blowing at the wet spot on my neck where a hickey was slowly forming. How the hell am I going to explain that when Jin and Hoseok come back? “You know what? Fuck it; I can’t wait,” he spoke, turning me around, pushing me over the desk, which sat on the other side of the room.

“Ahh…” I moaned when Taehyung spanked me. “Taehyung–” I purred, as his large hand began massaging my butt before it even started to sting.

“What is it, baby?” Taehyung asked in concern, as he leaned forward, and I arched my back, meeting him halfway, playfully biting his bottom lip. “Do you like it like that?” Taehyung inquired when I released his lips. His length was poking me, and I barely could stand that.

“You know I do,” I answered through clenched teeth, as Taehyung grabbed his cock, teasing me with its tip sliding up and down my soaked folds. I was ready to take him, but he wouldn’t let me feel the pleasure yet. When it came to sex, Taehyung sometimes could be a sadist, especially when I did him wrong. “Please,” I howled, sticking up my butt, rubbing it against his erection.

“I can’t keep you waiting when you’re begging me like this,” Taehyung admitted, spinning me around, sitting me on the desk. Quickly, I spread my legs, letting Taehyung between them. “Do you have a condom?” he asked, and I shook my head. Lack of protection wouldn’t stop me now, though. I wanted it too much to stop in the middle.

“Just pull out when you think you’re close,” I replied, and Taehyung sighed. “You’ve always loved coming on my tits; that hasn’t changed, has it?” I teased him, and Taehyung agreed with a sly smirk.

“No, it hasn’t,” he confirmed, and I gasped when he pushed his cock inside of me without any warning. It didn’t hurt because he had stretched me well, but I still didn’t expect him to enter me so desperately. “You’re so warm,” he moaned, as he trusted his hips back and forth inside of me.

The melody of my hushed moans and Taehyung throaty gasps played in my ears, with each thrust my voice going louder. His hips moved swiftly, but his hands traveled across my skin agonizingly slowly, making me wrap my legs around him, pulling him close as it was possible.

“Tae–“ I cried out, biting my bottom lip. Taehyung was making me feel heavenly, and until now, I didn’t realize how sex-deprived I had been. Thankfully, the dry spell’s over. “Please, go faster,” I begged, as I propped myself on my right hand, rubbing my clit with the other one.

My orgasm was near, and I would be pissed if Taehyung denied me of it. (It had always been a kink of his, and I learned it the hard way.)

Exactly how I told him to, Taehyung quickened his pace, making me choke on air.

“Oh, baby,” he rasped in his low voice, as he leaned forward, his lips smashing against my neck, trailing wet kisses down to my collarbones, marking me again. I gulped in pleasure when his mouth sucked on my skin, and although I hated love marks, this time I didn’t mind them at all. “You’re mine, you’re mine,” Taehyung repeated desperately, and I just nodded, kissing in his confirmation.

“I’m yours,” I moaned, arching my back when he finally found the most sensitive bud. I was only a couple of strokes away from my high, and all I needed was Taehyung to maintain his pace. “I’m yours,” I hissed when my walls started to pulse and tighten around him.

“You better come soon. I’m close, too,” Taehyung warned me, and I rolled my eyes at him. He would have to be really stupid if he seriously thought I’d deny my orgasm.

“Yes, yes, yes, just like that,” I whispered, raking my fingertips across his back, scratching it. I was on the verge, and I needed something to hold on. “Taehyung, I’m almost there,” I closed my eyes, giving myself into the embrace of a sweet peak, flavored with Taehyung’s raspy voice and musky smell.

The second I felt the paradise, a faint noise of the landline filled the space, killing the mood. My walls squeezed around Taehyung’s throbbing cock, coating it with my juices.

“Fuck, Tae,” I screamed, as Taehyung kept pounding his hips, helping me ride out my orgasm.

“Whoever is on the line is fucking persistent,” Taehyung commented, shaking his head, as he couldn’t believe that anyone would call them at such unholy hour. “Shit, I want to come inside you so fucking much,” he announced, as he pulled out his cock. Quickly, he started to pump it up and down with his hand, and I just watched him with my legs spread, my teeth biting the bottom lip.

“I wouldn’t really mind if you did,” I replied, but it was too late. My words triggered him, and with a couple of strokes, he came all over my stomach and breasts.

“You’re fucking amazing,” he breathed out, as he looked at me from underneath his sticky fringe. Taehyung’s satisfied and exhausted demeanor looked handsome on him, and unless I sat on the desk, it would sweep me off my feet. “I mean it,” he added, leaning to place a pack on my lips.

Then the phone rang again.

Taehyung growled in annoyance, but walked toward the landline, and picked up the phone. “Ghostbusters; how can I help you?” Taehyung answered the call politely, but his gaze was still on me as if he was enchanted. And frankly, I felt the same way about him. I couldn’t wait for him to hang up and come back to me, so we could properly celebrate our ceasefire.

“Of course, I’m on my way,” he answered, and I shook my head since there was no way I would be joining him on another mission.

I’d rather stay in and warm up the bed for him, hoping that everything turns up easier this time around.

#taehyung smut #v smut #bts smut #bangtan smut #bts fluff #taehyung fluff #ghostbusters

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