#giving him both the structure and genuine care that he has been deprived of for so long | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cle1024 · 4 years

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dead loss | hhj

member: hwang hyunjin

genre: fluff, angst

summary: life was an exhausting and pointless ride for hyunjin, but you managed to make it a little more bearable while you could. delinquent!au, friends to lovers!au, coming of age!au

warnings: smoking, alcoholism, swearing, violence, death, drug-dealing (no usage), lots of illegal stuff my dudes

disclaimer: there are ships within this story. i am NOT trying to force these relationships on any of the boys, nor am i trying to use them as anything other than an aspect of the story. these are purely fictitious scenarios and relationships, i feel the need to add this disclaimer because some people take ships w a y too far (insisting they’re real to the point where it’s uncomfortable and borderline fetishising) and i don’t want to come across as one of those people.

a/n: anyway i’m gonna go disappear for another 5+ months

Life in a small town was peaceful in the outsider’s perspective ― everyone knew everyone, there was a strong sense of community and unbreakable bond built on reliability and trust. People who believed that shit clearly didn’t live in a small town, or at least not your small town. No, in your hometown everyone was a stranger. If you look at them for too long ― alternatively referred to as “looking at them the ‘wrong way’” ― they wouldn’t hate to get aggressive, borderline violent or just straight up violent. There was no trust in this town, how can you trust a stranger? It was a shady and hopeless area that people struggled to escape. Many of you have accepted your future, stuck in this abysmal hellhole, but some things just aren’t easy to come to terms with―especially when you hate the future you’ll inevitably be trapped in.

A slight metallic scent tainted the air as Hyunjin leaned against the wooden planks of the treehouse, a huff passing his busted lips. He had managed to drag his sorry ass back to the rickety treehouse after sending a simple text to you ― something optimistic and charming: “im going to fucking die. treehouse” ― in the hopes you would come fix his wounds. That’s what you always did after Hyunjin had been in a fight, regardless of whether he asked you to or not. Though he had to ask you this time, even if it was the ass crack of dawn, because he genuinely thought he was going to die any second now. At this point, he wasn’t sure if it was because he’d used all of his energy in the fight, his wounds bled too much, or the result of not sleeping in thirty-seven hours. Hyunjin didn’t think he really cared about dying, everyone has to go at some point, but he did care about whether he would be in pain or alone when he died―and right now, he was both. There was a faint pattering of footsteps in the dewy grass, growing louder until they were gently working their way up the wooden ladder to the treehouse. Hyunjin opened his eyes lazily, watching as you pulled yourself up and into the structure. He smirked slightly and wheezed out a chuckle, “on a scale of one to ten, how dateable am I right now?” You stared at him blankly, scanning over his injuries before huffing slightly and shifting towards him.

“Losing fights isn’t a personality trait, dipshit.”

“Yeah, but it makes me seem like a bad boy, huh?” Hyunjin chuckled hoarsely at your immediate eye roll, tilting his head to give you better access to his bleeding face wounds. He winced softly as pressure was applied to the bloody mark on the top of his cheek, a fresh bruise blooming under his soft skin. He couldn’t see all of his wounds, but he could undeniably feel them. His cheek was bruised and bleeding, his bottom lip was busted with blood seeping into his mouth occasionally―he was just loving that―while there were numerous pains to his abdomen, mainly in his ribs and lower stomach.

“Jeez, you need to stop picking fights you can’t win,” the corners of his lips twitched upwards momentarily, a tinge of smugness painting the action.

“This is the prime of my life, darling.”

You scoffed at his excuse, “yeah, you’ll only be young once but you’ll be stupid for the rest of your life, Hwang.”

“Touche,” he shrugged nonchalantly as your eyes widened in mock offence.

“Oh, do you want to bleed some more?” The two of you chuckled at the threat, though Hyunjin’s sounded much more breathless and painful than yours did.

“Nah, only other people are allowed to hurt me. How else would I get your attention at night?” Hyunjin’s comment elicited another eyeroll and soft smile from you. He knew you’d drop everything to be with him, regardless of how sleep-deprived it made you, because that’s what friends did.

Hyunjin is a delinquent, down to the very definition: “(typically of a young person) tending to commit crime, particularly minor crime.” He does that a fair bit, stealing from different shops run by tired and aging people who can’t be arsed to chase after the mischievous teenager. He smokes, despite his youth, but won’t take a swig of alcohol ― something Jisung often laughs at him for, but that boy was a borderline alcoholic. The tall boy also happened to be involved in fights at least one a fortnight, you sometimes have the displeasure of witnessing them and almost always have the duty of taking care of him afterwards―no one else was willing to do it. You don’t approve of Hyunjin’s lifestyle, frankly you never have, but you know he has his reasons. Besides, he’s a stubborn boy and wouldn’t change even if you tried to force him. He’s reckless and usually impulsive, which became undeniably obvious when he was fifteen, stood in front of a train until the last second so he could dodge it, all with the undying support of his former enemy Jisung ― “You got this, man!”

“All he’s got is a one-way ticket to the afterlife,” you’d deadpanned, earning a scoff from the other boy.

“As Teddy Duchamp once said, ‘train dodge, dig it’.”

“Yeah, but he didn’t stay around long enough to dodge it, nor is he a real person!”

At the end of the day, it really didn’t matter how Hyunjin acted, he would still be your best friend. He’d filled that position since the two of you were kids, it came naturally when you lived one street away from each other and had fathers with a similar friendly relationship―until work got the best of them. Now they don’t have enough time for their children, let alone each other. They differed in some ways: your father harbours expectations far too high for you, meaning he spends most of his free time reprimanding you for not trying hard enough, whereas Hyunjin’s father was always busy and didn’t really care for his son. As a result, Hyunjin spent most of his time away from home, locked inside that treehouse his father built for him and his childhood friends ― many of them had moved on to other things: moved away, became too good for him, or died, but you and Minho always stuck around, later adding Jisung to the bunch when he and Hyunjin outgrew their petty mutual hatred. Smoking, playing cards or watching scenery while he played with a lighter, it was enough for Hyunjin.

Sometimes you think about Jisung and Hyunjin’s weird friendship, it’s an evolution you all laughed about from time to time. When the pair were younger, the age of twelve during middle school to be exact, they harboured a burning mutual hatred that continuously burdened their mutual friends ― namely upperclassman Lee Minho; at least, he was the only one of the bunch who stuck around. There was an incident where the pair were ready to throw hands at one another, but Minho and some of his older friends stepped in and told them to squash it, even if momentarily. After Jisung aided Hyunjin in a fight with some older boys from the next town over, the two sparked a short-lived ‘frenemies’ type of relationship ― of course the older boys weren’t scared of two kids who had only just figured out the ego-boost of developing muscle, they were more fearful of Jisung’s older brother as they knew damn well how ruthless he could be; they didn’t want the risk of dealing with someone from the same genes, but Hyunjin and Jisung maintained it was their intimidation that warded the boys off. Jisung initially brushed off Hyunjin’s thanks, but there was a definite shift in their relationship: their sharp insults became sarcastic remarks that garnered a teasing response after the other, then after one incident they were friends. Hyunjin never told you the specifics of the incident and you never pushed, but it was essentially Hyunjin paying back Jisung for saving his ass ― though you later found out the only threat to Jisung at the time was himself. Regardless, Jisung and Hyunjin had discovered their compatibility and Minho had never been happier to see drama fizzle out. He wasn’t a fan of such petty disagreements, “all problems can be solved in this world, either with a fist or verbal expression.”

“Are you recommending violence?”

“It’s still honest communication.”

Lee Minho was truly one of a kind―all three of them were, but it was their varying ability to believe in themselves that set them apart the most.

The Hwang boy was smart, but he had no faith in himself. At the age of fifteen he’d already accepted that he wouldn’t go far academically, telling you “I’ll become one of those tradies that gets wolf whistled when I’m trying to do my job, and no one will say a damn thing because I’m a male,” you could remember him taking a short drag of the nicotine stick, “that’s my inevitable future.” That was one of the many ways you contrasted Hyunjin. You wanted to make your father finally accept you as his child again, and the only way to do that seemed to be success ― but at this point you weren’t sure what that looked like in his eyes; everything you perceived as a success was a comical failure to him. You didn’t smoke ― you tried once when you were fourteen and found it dreadful ― and you certainly didn’t shoplift chocolate bars or ‘train dodge’ like Hyunjin, but you still had your downfalls. Rather, you bury yourself in work you couldn’t understand, got pent up over the possibility of failure, and then turned it all in like nothing ever happened―nothing’s wrong. There was a lot wrong, Hyunjin and you both knew it, but neither ever voiced it. All you wanted was to make your father proud, but you always wanted to run away from this godforsaken town and never come back. Hyunjin wanted you to stay around, the kid couldn’t afford to lose another person in his life, but he knew it was your choice at the end of the day―you had to do what was best for you. It was just difficult to accept. It was like life had kicked Hyunjin and rolled all over him, yet you managed to bring a tiny little spark of life in his soul, something that brought him to carry on. You were his rock, you understood him more than he understood himself most of the time. He loved you, not romantically, but in the way people who have no one else who get it love each other, you know?

He realised he loved you in that way when he was thirteen, after he had his first existential debate with you ― it became a monthly tradition after that: one night you’d silently climb into the treehouse with puffy eyes and a red-tinged face, and he’d never question it because he knew you’d tell him it was fine. Then you’d wonder what happens after death and where you went. Hyunjin had always been firm on the idea there was a Heaven and Hell due to his long standing religious beliefs, and he always assumed he was going to Hell, but those midnight talks always made him realise just how unsure he was about everything ― he didn’t know what or who to believe, but he eventually decided he probably didn’t need to.

Hyunjin realised he had fallen in love with you when you were sixteen, after Jisung and Minho had convinced the two of you to spend your Saturday doing an ‘adventurous hike’ with them ― you didn’t know it at the time, but the two had found out some pricey drugs had been dropped in the woods, and neither of them were in a situation to refuse the money that would come with selling those substances. The two boys were energetically bounding ahead of you and the tallest boy, Hyunjin and yourself dawdling on the train tracks to avoid any shattered glass mixed in with the gravel surrounding the rails, trying your best to avoid being cut through the thin and worn soles of your shoes. Hyunjin squinted at the sunlight, distracted by his own thoughts and daydreams, too distracted to realise Jisung and Minho had stopped dead in his tracks. He bumped into the older of the two, startling him back to reality with confusion, “dude, what the fu―” his voice trailed off as he watched five men ― as in full grown, adult, ‘probably from a gang’ type of men ― snarl at the four of you. Though, their eyes seemed to be trained on Minho.

“Lee Minho. You said you wouldn’t come around here anymore, didn’t you?”

For the first time in his life, Hyunjin saw genuine fear on Minho’s frame as he shifted his eyes and gulped softly; clearly they’d made a grave mistake.

“Y-yeah,” for you, that was the moment you became alarmed. Lee Minho, the self-proclaimed ‘King of Confidence’, doesn’t stutter, “I know, man. I-I must’ve lost track of where we were, you won’t see me around here anymore. I’m not here to cause you any trouble, nothin’ like that,” he spoke rapidly, desperation seeping through his usually nonchalant tone. One of the men eyed the four of you suspiciously, straining his vision on you for far too long―Hyunjin sensed it, pulling you out of his line of vision with a glare. He was always one to protect his friends, reckless enough to put himself in danger to do so, it was nothing new for any of you.

“I better not see you around these parts anymore, Lee. You got it?” Minho nodded firmly, “good. Now go,” the man waved his hand in a dismissive motion, “run along with your friends.”

To Hyunjin, Jisung and yourself, that was your que to turn around and never look back; but Minho knew these men, you didn’t. The oldest knew it would never be that simple, and that became evident when he saw the shining tip of a dagger being pulled from one of their pockets. The four of you reacted fast, running purely on fear; Minho frantically pushed whoever he could reach, without looking, in the opposite direction, urging you to run as fast as you could to get the fuck out of there. Hyunjin grabbed your wrist securely, tugging you in the other direction and refusing to slow down for a second, even when he heard Minho and Jisung yelling distantly. Your legs slowed down slightly until the both of you stopped in your tracks, much to the dismay of Hyunjin.

“Hyunjin, we have to go back.”

“They can handle themselves, Y/N.”

“We can’t just leave them!” You pleaded, gesturing to the distant figures of your two friends.

“And I can’t lose you!” Hyunjin yelled back, startling you into a momentary silence. It was built on uncertainty, confusion and hung heavily in the air for a few seconds, until the sound of approaching footsteps, the sound of frantic running to be exact, and Minho’s frantic yells of “move your fucking asses! Run!” broke the tranquility.

You didn’t find out what Jisung and Minho had argued about until you were twenty-one years old and attending Minho’s funeral: “When I was sixteen, he was going to risk his life to save myself and my two other friends. We yelled at each other; I couldn’t leave him behind to get beat up or blatantly killed by the people who confronted us, but he couldn’t let me in harms way. I only found out why he cared so much and risked his everything, all the time, three years after it happened. But, that’s a secret we all promised to take to the grave.”

All four of you promised to keep that secret ― you’d all promised Minho that you wouldn’t out him, have his parents disown him during or after his life, and you all took that to the grave. Jisung lost the ability to love romantically when he was twenty-one; he’d given it all to Minho and allowed it to be buried with him. He wouldn’t have it any other way, though.

You were officially eighteen and two months, not that the months meant anything. Both you and Hyunjin were anxious about turning nineteen, yet he didn’t want to voice it and destroy the wall he’d built around a certain part of himself―his fears. Being nineteen meant he had to act like an adult: get a job, support his family until his parents found out he had enough money to survive on his own and kick him out, settle down and have his whole life figured out. Nineteen would mean the death of his youth: no more skipping chemistry because it was insufferable or only showing up for woodwork classes, no more train dodging because it was ‘immature’, no more stealing or the shop owners would actually make an effort to ensure his actions had repercussions since he was no longer a delinquent teen. The worst of all was the thought of losing his friends; he already saw Minho significantly less than he used to due to his two jobs ― a barber during the daylight and a bartender during the hours between ― Jisung would probably continue secretly writing poetry ― though the three of you secretly knew he did it ― and work as a truck driver, or something, to escape the dullness of your hometown for a little bit. You, Y/N the bright one, would probably go on to do great things with your life and be added to the list of friends he lost due to not being good enough anymore. Hyunjin wasn’t sure whether you or Jisung felt the same ― Minho excluded since he was already passed nineteen, with Jisung endearingly referring to him as ‘hag’ ― and a part of him didn’t want to know because he didn’t really want to think about it. Of course, that didn’t stop it from being the only thing on his mind twenty-four-seven. Hyunjin groaned inwardly; losing friends. You were just a friend. Hyunjin couldn’t help but scold himself. He could steal from stores without a second thought, stand in front of trains without fear, yet he couldn’t admit his feelings to you. Then again, your friendship spanned across most of his life, and losing that would mean he would lose you. And, frankly, you were the only thing that mattered to him in life. His parents neglected him, other friends had abandoned him over time or just failed to be there for him, but you never left. You stayed, even when you became far more intelligent than him and practically radiated potential. No matter how much he wanted to, he wouldn’t dare risk losing that. He couldn’t lose you, he’d told you that before ― although, when he thought about it, and he absolutely thought about it, he’d lose you regardless of what he did or didn’t say.

But, he had to put those thoughts aside. It was a fresh summer, after all, and there was supposedly no room for sadness in summer. There was only room for happiness, laughter, good vibes, getting high on the good vibes, or just getting high and conforming to the sickly summertime syndrome people were often infected with. Thus, Hyunjin had tried to spend the new season conforming to such a syndrome―excluding the fight where he was beaten within an inch of his life and had you fix him up, that probably didn’t fit the mold of a fun summer. It’d been successful to an extent ― the local pool had far too many people, including neglectful mothers attempting to flirt with the underage lifeguard Kim Sunwoo, and the beach was littered with shattered glass, plastic and cigarette ash mixed amongst the sand ― but the weather was still nice, and Hyunjin did play a soccer game in the park last weekend. That was it, though. The rest of his time was spent mowing the lawns of other houses for some extra cash, pocketing cherry lollipops and dealing decks of fifty-two cards for games that would be inevitably cheated in―like you were now. Hyunjin, Jisung and Minho were in a heated game of Go Fish, a cigarette dangling from Hyunjin’s plush lips and intoxicating the midday air, while you half-focused on the game in amusement, half-focused on the dusty comic book you’d flicked your way through. It’d been buried under many other prints of various comics, all neglected as time and puberty had lowered your interest in the bright illustrations. You couldn’t remember ever reading this one though, it was probably one of the rare collections Hyunjin refused to share through his childhood. A huff passed the lips of the oldest as he lost yet again, mumbling something about disrespectful youths and how they had obviously cheated. Jisung snickered, earning a wack in the gut from an agitated Minho. He scooted over to sit beside you, reading over your shoulder in an attempt to show his disinterest in the card game ― though it really just made him look like a sore loser, and it was quite clear he had zero interest in the childish story you held. A frustrated groan sounded as he threw his head back against the wall, as dramatic as ever.

“I want to go outside,” he complained.

Hyunjin scoffed, “there’s the door,” gesturing to the entrance with sass.

“No,” Minho hissed and narrowed his eyes. Man, he was really spending too much time with those cats, “I want to go outside outside. Like, camping or something.”

Jisung threw his hands up in defeat, “well, why didn’t you say so!” He exclaimed in exasperation, “I’ve got everything you need to go camping! No one in my house uses it.”

Oh, Jisung’s house. What a nightmare that was―or, rather, looked like. It was dilapidated with a rusty truck parked in the driveway, a large shed in the back acting as storage for years of hoarding, of course there’d be something for camping in there. Jisung had once told you that most of the stuff in the shed belonged to past owners who never returned to get it and he’d, for some reason, seen it as a tradition that has to be carried through each owner. You didn’t press the idea or criticise it, the boy seemed really excited about it after all.

“Welcome to my shed of wonders!” Jisung introduced. It was so, so, dusty. You were almost certain some of the junk within the metal sheathing dated back to the 19th century, maybe the 18th if you really analysed the dilapidated furniture and crumbling artefacts. Jisung hummed in thought, “there’s gotta be a tent in here somewhere…” He strolled into the shed, seeming to know exactly what to move and how far. The rest of you stared at the collection in awe―you kind of understood why Jisung prided himself on the contents of his shed, some of those things would make a good buck on Antiques Roadshow and keeping them must’ve given Jisung some sort of positive emotional release, perhaps a feeling of “I have a get rich quick scheme, I’m just choosing to be poor”. Probably made him feel better when people gave him crap for not being able to afford cool toys as a kid. You’d never seen the torment Jisung received, nor did he ever desire to speak about it, but Minho had been vocal numerous times in his distaste for the way the younger was treated. Jisung had a heart of gold, something Hyunjin could acknowledge even when they didn’t get along. He was the kind of boy who deserved nothing but greatness; he was destined for greatness. You could always pray the town didn’t suck the potential out of him, as it did to most others, but you knew those kinds of prayers go unanswered. Jisung’s epiphanic “a-ha!” derailed your thought train, your eyes shifting to see the brunette male pulling a large tent from one of the many, almost overflowing, storage units.

Hyunjin squinted his eyes in confusion, “how did you even find that?”

“It looks a hundred years old,” Minho added.

The youngest male rolled his eyes at their comments, dusting off the green tent. An excited smile graced his face as he turned to face the three of you, “alright, where should we go?”

The sun beat down on you, a light sheen of sweat glistening over your burning skin. How long had it been? Thirty minutes, an hour, two hours? You hadn’t a clue. The last time you ventured down railway tracks you ended up running in fear of men who had a vendetta against Minho―for reasons you’d soon find out. The oldest had evidently learned his lesson, guiding everyone in the opposite direction and away from any men with reasons to stab him for walking in their ‘territory’. Hyunjin dawdled beside you, eyes trailing the railway the four of you walked along. Minho was leading the group, Jisung chewing his ear off in a conversation that probably didn't interest the older, something about the spirits in the woods you were approaching. You could barely make out the faint scoff that passed Minho’s lips, but the younger seemed to hear it clear as day.

“I’m serious! If we don’t get murdered in our tents then we get murked by demons in these damn woods!”

“Is there an outcome where we don’t die on this trip?” Hyunjin questioned with amusement, effectively closing the younger’s mouth and halting more words from spilling out. Minho rolled his eyes at the short bickering, trudging through the forest with an impatient yell, “come on! I want to get there before the sun sets.” It was a dark and dank environment, the air felt musty and thick around your lungs. Trees were overgrown, roots seeping along the dirt trail and serving as tripping hazards. Light dimmed under the cavern of green leaves, yet shadows still managed to dance in the slivers of golden rays. It was tranquil, but also unnerving. In retrospect, it was probably the childhood tales of drug deals gone wrong that put you on edge. Even if it was pure fiction, naive belief was enough to trick your mind into feeling unsafe, watched, hunted. If you ventured alone your fear would have pushed you to the other side of the trail at a much faster pace than you currently maintained, but, of course, you weren’t without company. The aura of discomfort and fear gently wafted in the air ― stronger from the likes of yourself and Jisung, though minimal to non-existent from the two other males. Those two had been fearless since you met them―Hyunjin stood in front of trains for an adrenaline rush! Then again, you weren’t entirely sure as to whether that was fearlessness or recklessness. They were one and the same to that boy.

The group passed through the forest until you found a clearing, a large field with a distant fence to halt you from further adventuring. It appeared to be the outskirts of town, past where anyone would travel for purposes other than hiking or illegal business. Hyunjin stood still with his hands rested on his hips, observing the area, “oh, this’ll do. This’ll do just fine.”

Your eyes rolled at the antics of your best friend, trust Hyunjin to say something straight out of an 80s movie―at least, it sounded like it would be. Jisung strolled ahead, hot on the heels of Hyunjin as they ventured through the long grass. Minho eyed the ground suspiciously, hesitance floating through his orbs before mumbling, “there better not be any snakes around here.” His words clearly weren’t as quiet as he had hoped, as Jisung stumbled away from the grass with a sharp gasp at the announcement. A huff passed Hyunjin’s lips at the other boys’ dramatics, causing you to shift an eyebrow in question―he had no right to be judgemental, he was the most dramatic of all.

“Chill out, you buffoons. There’s short grass ahead, we’ll set up there,” well, that made sense. Clearing his throat awkwardly, Jisung stumbled to his feet and worked to catch up with Hyunjin’s footsteps.

The process of setting up a tent had been… difficult, to say the least ― “Jisung, how the fuck do we set this up?” “Just read the instructions?” “They’re in Russian!” ― though the four of you eventually managed to successfully pitch the tent. Though, in all honesty, the sun had started to set by the time it was standing. That was at least an hour ago. Now, you lay still in your sleeping bags and mumbled descriptions of distant memories and under-developed universal theories.

“Hyunjin, move your irritatingly long legs so they’re resting somewhere other than my feet,” Minho grumbled.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Your mind wandered back to the adventures of that day, dawdling across train tracks and praying none of the smoking vehicles came running up behind you. The memory struck you like lightning; you remembered the time you dawdled down the wrong train tracks and ran for your life. A slight laugh passed your lips at the image of your younger self frantically running, “hey, do you remember when we tried to almost got murked by that gang on the outskirts of town?” Hyunjin mumbled an agreement, a fond smile on his face. Jisung piped up to laugh about how he almost ‘shit his lungs out of his ass’. Although you were able to laugh now, you all knew there was nothing funny about the primal fear you felt in that moment. The fear of the unknown; of death. Silence settled over the four of you momentarily before Minho voiced new information softly.

“I almost killed one of them.”

Jisung just about shot up in his sleeping bag, “what?” he exclaimed.

Minho maintained his characteristic calm composure as he explained, “yeah, it was a few months before we went down there. I was still hanging out with Hongjoong and that gang,” ah, the days of Minho being a gang. They were fond―somewhat fond―memories, “one of them had beat up Mingi, got the wrong guy or something, so Hongjoong and I went after him.”

In all honesty, you never knew Kim Hongjoong very well, nor did you remember much about him. You were never close with him and he’d moved away before any sort of friendship could bud, but you knew Song Mingi well―rather, you knew of him. He was a bubbly kid, tall and friendly with a goofy smile. There was something about him that exuded innocence and happiness, like he was crafted by embers of the burning yellow ball in the sky.

“We didn’t mean to get him that bad, but we couldn’t stop ourselves,” Minho mumbled softly, his mind wandering off to a different space as he blurted out the words, “Mingi didn’t do anything.”

The three of you shared a look before turning back to focus on the oldest, his face blank as his eyes clouded over with thought, concern, nostalgia. Hyunjin cleared his throat awkwardly, “well, it’s in the past now. We learnt to never travel down those tracks again,” he shifted around in his sleeping bag and closed his eyes.

Jisung had proposed the idea of keeping someone on lookout, claiming he didn’t want to get “fucking murked by a coyote or something”. There was the initial suggestion of taking shifts, but Jisung didn’t seem willing to take up the role and Minho said he was “too old to skip sleep”. Hyunjin didn’t give you a chance before saying he’d stay up all night ― of course he wasn’t actually planning on staying up all night, just until Jisung had knocked out for long enough to be unaware of the lack of surveillance. It didn’t matter, though, you both ended up out there after you tossed and turned for a solid thirty minutes. The wind was howling, the tent thrashing from side-to-side at the sharp movements of air. Hyunjin sighed with discontent, “why didn’t we check the forecast before we left?” A light chuckle passed your chapped lips.

“Because the forecast is never correct,” Hyunjin rolled his eyes at your matter-a-fact tone, a slight smile gracing his moonlit features. It was very clear in that moment — and many others, if you were being honest with yourself — why so many girls had thrown themselves at him over the years. All of that started in your first year of school, when a pigtailed girl claimed it was Hyunjin’s neat cursive writing that attracted her, not his cute face—of course that was a crock of shit, it had always been about Hyunjin’s face. It shouldn’t have been, but people were shallow like that.

His visuals had never crossed your mind, not until your early teenage years at least. You were thirteen when it first struck you, bundled up in sleeping bags in your best friend’s lounge room watching some teen movie. It wasn’t something you focused on, your eyes had drifted to your giggly friend and refused to move. His hair was black, dark eyes curved into crescent moons as he attempted to stifle laughter at the current scene. Skin smooth, blue winter pyjama shirt buttoned up to the collar and a pillow clutched between his arms. With a tilted head, he turned and stared back at you with curiosity, “what is it?”

You look perfect. “Nothing,” you smiled tightly.

“What are you thinking about?” The question passed Hyunjin’s lip in a voice of honey and warmth, comforting in the midst of the vicious whipping wind.

You shrugged slightly as you formulated an excuse, “just the future. What I’ll do after school,” Hyunjin hummed solemnly. He didn’t like talking about the future, mainly because it brought in thoughts of losing everyone and everything he’s ever loved. He didn’t want to think about a world where that happened, even if it was inevitable, though the words manage to spill out before he could catch them.

“Will I ever lose you?”

You were dumbfounded. Lose you? Of course he’d never lose you, “how could you ever lose me? I won’t let you, Hwang,” you attempted to brighten the glum atmosphere.

Picking at his cuticles, he shrugged his shoulders slightly, “I’m not good enough for you, I’ll never be enough for you.” A frown formed on your lips at Hyunjin’s pessimism, eyebrows furrowing in satisfaction and sadness. You never knew he felt so little of himself.

“Hey,” the word was spoken gently from your lips, hands reaching out to cup Hyunjin’s face and turn him towards you. He still had a scratch on his lip from that last fight he was in, “you are more than you think, Hyunjin. So much more,” the glaze of your eyes held such sincerity and honesty, “you can do anything you want, man,” yet Hyunjin still couldn’t make himself believe you.

Eyes downcast, “yeah,” he mumbled distantly, “anything.”

The four of you walked home in a comfortable silence the next morning, accepting it would be the last time any of you felt this free.

At the age of twenty-one, Jisung became distant. It was understandably so, Minho had been found dead and was buried within a week of the discovery. There was no proper time to grieve about the loss, everyone expected you to go back to work as if nothing had changed—nothing’s wrong. Everything was wrong, so fucking wrong. Jisung and Minho were never ‘official’ because neither of them had the bravery to face discrimination for being something other than straight. You never knew whether Minho was homosexual or bisexual, even pansexual maybe, but it never mattered. All you could wish was that he was happy, at least once, before he was laid to rest. Jisung closed himself off, became a silent and reclusive man who lived on the outskirts of town. He was a truck driver, swinging between different towns before inevitably returning to the one that seemed to have something against him. It sucked the life from him, it took everything from him; he hated that fucking town. You didn’t see him after Minho’s funeral, not in the way friends see each other, at least. Of course you’d spot him in town occasionally, exiting his house or driving back home after weeks away. Yet, you never spoke a word to him. Never said a ‘hi’, never wanted to speak in case it pushed him too far—broke him, if you will. Rather, you let him seclude himself and suffocate in loneliness; if only you didn’t make that foolish mistake.

When you were twenty-three you bid your goodbyes to Hyunjin, planning to move away and pursue a career that, frankly wouldn’t make you happy, but it would give you enough money to pay rent for a good place. That’s all you really needed, you supposed. Hyunjin bid his last goodbyes with a letter. It was written in his beautiful handwriting, the calligraphy style he liked to brag when he was younger, but seemed to have forgotten about as he emerged into his teenage years — he never forgot, he still prided himself on such perfect penmanship. It was a letter that contained words you never expected your best friend to say, though always secretly hoped to hear. It was a letter that slapped you across the face for being so blind and cowardly. It was a letter about how he fell in love with you, too hard and too fast, and how he always knew you’d be too good for him, one way or another. You hated when Hyunjin put himself down with such words, but you hated knowing that you caused most of them. The boy was incomparable, so unique and one-of-a-kind. There would never be another Hyunjin in your life, never one to take your heart and treat it as his own. Hyunjin was more than he thought. So, so much more.

“I love you, more than you know. In more ways than a platonic-friendship-type of love. The kind of romantic love that’s, probably, unrequited,” Hyunjin, you foolish boy, your love has never been unrequited.

Perhaps you were the fool, not Hyunjin, for keeping your mouth shut about your secret attraction for years. Heaving a sigh, your hands folded the letter closed, you were such a fool.

In your life, you had three great friends that taught you many lessons — many lessons they failed to learn themselves.

Minho often preached about staying true to who you are, exuding confidence in your identity and being fearless of others. Yet he failed to accept who he was, though that was fair enough in your opinion. He had his own struggles, many struggles, but never wanted to confront them. Minho never wanted to confront, let alone accept, the possibility of being subjectively weak; he struggled under the pressure to conform to masculinity—no weaknesses whatsoever. Gosh, that boy was one of the strongest you knew. One of the kindest, too, a heart of gold, truly. That boy didn’t deserve to die, none of your friends did.

Jisung often told you to be careful with your feelings, yet easily gave his away to Minho. The boy had always had an eye for detail, noticing the veins in leaves and miniscule dirt stains on a vintage photograph in his shed, but he tended to overlook the bigger ideas. The things that were right in front of him, you supposed. He failed to notice how he gave away his feelings to one person so easily. He never noticed that he left no room for the regrowth or reacquisition of those feelings, but maybe he just didn’t care. Minho made him feel so peaceful and at ease, how could he find it within him to care?

Hyunjin, where did you start with Hyunjin? Your friend since childhood, your first love, someone you’d never be able to forget—someone you’d never allow yourself to forget. He taught you to be bold, a little reckless to spice up life — though not ‘stand in front of a train’ type of recklessness. He spent years teaching you to overcome your struggles, though you felt as if you failed to tend to his. Of course, he’d never see it that way, but he was head over heels for you. Just as you were for him. The boy had always been talented, insanely so, with perfect handwriting and a unique perspective on the inner workings of life, ambitions and dreams. There was so much potential held inside his body, marked with scars and bruises from the fights he’d had through the years. He’d always told you to never settle for anything less than perfect. Perhaps that’s why he never wanted you to settle for him: he never saw himself as perfect. You wanted him to do the same, go as far as he possibly can to fulfil his limitless potential. But, that didn’t happen—life could never treat him kindly. Hyunjin never made it out of that shitty town. It pained you to think about it — he could’ve been anything, anyone. He had so much potential, yet that place sucked it away and kept him in an iron grip. When you thought about it, you realised none of your friends got lucky like you. One way or another, they all stayed in that town—dead or alive, it didn’t matter, they all remained. Many would’ve seen that as luck being on your side, but without at least one of them by your side—without Hyunjin by your side—what was the point of going?

Walking back into that town had never felt so eerie. Nothing was the same as you remembered. Visually, nothing changed, yet at the same time everything had changed. You were no longer a young adult searching for opportunities, no longer a teenager stressing over school work, or dragging yourself to the treehouse in the middle of the night to tend to Hyunjin’s wounds. You wondered if that thing was still intact. That’s not why you were back in town, far from it, but something ate away at you. Was your rickety hangout still standing? Or had it fallen apart after all of you left, in more than one way.

There was no noise coming from within the wooden confines of the treehouse. You were glad it was still there, even if no one used it. It felt like you were running on autopilot, your feet guiding you up the ladder as you opened the hatch to pull yourself into the space. You swore it was bigger than this. Eyes darted around, taking in the old drawings on the walls, outdated comics and dusty packs of cards. Nothing had changed. You gasped, startled, as you made eye contact with another person, sat in a slightly slumped position across from you. The corner of their lip was slightly bloody, a cigarette dangling from the other side. A reminiscent smirk crawled on their lips, it couldn’t be.

“Long time no see, darling,” he hadn’t changed one bit, “and just in time! You can patch me up before the service.”

There was a bitterness in his tone, one you could taste on your own tongue as you contemplated the right words to say. It was mockingly cheerful, like he knew everything was falling apart and there was nothing that could stop it ― who are you kidding, that’s exactly what was happening ― “because that’s the only reason people ever return to this town, right? To mourn the ones that’ll never leave.”

Words couldn’t pass your lips. There was so much you wanted to say: questions, nonchalant agreements, apologies. It was bittersweet, really, to be meeting like this. It was like old times. A bloodied Hyunjin sat against the wall of the treehouse, nonchalant in the pain of being beaten up, fully prepared to be patched up by your delicate, unbruised hands. But everything was different. Minho no longer whinged over losing a card game, Jisung no longer cheated his way to success in said card games. They’d stopped doing that years ago, and it was an activity they could never engage in again. Hyunjin noticed the despair clouding your gaze, guilt etching your face. A frown creasing his face as he caught your train of thought―you had a habit of blaming yourself, feeling guilty about nothing.

“It feels weird, doesn’t it?”

You nodded slightly, “almost... wrong.”

Hyunjin tossed aside the cigarette, crushing it under his shoe before he opened his arms welcomingly. You didn’t realise how much you’d missed him until the moment you crawled into his arms―you missed all of them. All you wanted was to say one last goodbye to Minho, one last goodbye to Jisung. To thank them for everything, tell them how hard they worked, how incredible they were to be around. Fuck, you missed them so much, you couldn’t help it. Tears were already falling and staining Hyunjin’s t-shirt before you could even attempt to keep them in. A solemn sigh passed his lips, hand stroking your hair as a form of agreement. He’d always fantasised about having a solid friend group that lasted into adulthood, then into the elderly ages. A part of him knew it would never end that way, but he didn’t think this would be the outcome of your friendship circle. When he pondered the potential loss of contact he always assumed it would be a result of moving on to better things, better places and people. He couldn’t help but think back to that camping trip; it was the most carefree time in his life. None of you could’ve ever imagined this outcome ― you could imagine moving away and losing contact over time, you couldn’t imagine being pulled apart by something out of your control. You didn’t want to, but who would? The idea of your friends being taken before their time―before you deemed it to be their time―was almost as upsetting as it actually happening. Life and death, it was a torturous cycle for everyone involved. Hyunjin squeezed his eyes shut as fear bubbled in his chest, the fear of losing you all over again. He tightened his grip on you, what tragic lives we’ve led.

“And then there were two.”

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og-danny-dorito · 5 years

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Spock Headcanons (There's No Reason This Time I Swear)

S F W:

- I don't even know why I like him so much I just do, but my dumb gay ass just loves this man. seriously no kidding

- spock is a child of two worlds; an outcast but a familiar part of both systems in their actuality, residing as the cross section between Vulcan and human that was frowned upon for so long. his intelligence was left unconsidered as he passed all of his classes with excellence, being known as not the intelligent Vulcan boy but as the dysfunctional human hybrid of a being

- so obviously he's probably got some insecurities

- they're not bad, but he tends to be a bit self deprecating sometimes when referring to capability of things. for instance if you ask him if he can say uhhh.... if he can draw something for example. he’ll most likely state that he has no talent or not enough skill or his previous artwork was terrible so he doesn't suggest asking him for it.

- he knows what he logically isn't and is capable of, but the human doubt still crawls in the back of his mind like a parasite. he still feels emotions, just less outwardly, he's definitely capable of feeling and if you are observant enough you'll notice that he expresses himself through very very small gestures

- when he quirks a brow at something he either finds it surprising or he's being sarcastic, two things which don't happen often (except the latter)

- he's very private, obviously, but is still open to conversation about his interests. mostly he says that he just reads and works in his spare time, but that's not exactly the truth

- when he has nothing else to do, spock finds interest in cat videos and cat videos only. seriously, he'll watch them for hours if he's not got nothing to do, just staring at the screen in silence as he watches cats do stupid cute things like they're the most interesting beings in the world

- he secretly would like a cat as a pet, but yknow it's not really easy to keep pets on Starfleet considering he doesn't want to deprive the animal of connectivity with nature

- can and will debate you about whether cats or dogs are better. sulu once said he thought cats were problematic in spock’s general area of 10 feet in diameter and there was a very heated debate that went on for a good hour or so before sulu got frustrated and decided to just let him win

- spock also likes weird and exotic plants considering that their chemical composition is interesting. he finds it fascinating that different planets use the plants around them for food or medical treatment or a number of other things, so he finds that a way to start off with a culture study is to study the biotany of the planet first

- had NEVER seen a cactus before coming to earth, and now has like 10 of them just sitting in his quarters. he'll never tell anyone but they're named after the constellations that can be seen from Vulcan. he's just a nerd I swear

- Shakespeare nerd, although that's fact not a headcanon

- romantically I think he'd have fairly bad self worth issues. a lot of the time he views himself as unworthy of his partner, and he'll have trouble with physical contact the first few times mainly because he doesn't exactly know what to do with himself

- not much for pda at all. he says it's because it's indecent, but it's really because he gets all flustered when you kiss his cheek or snake your fingers around his in public where there are people all around. he gets super embarrassed and it's cUTE

- wouldn't have a favorite part of his partner physically; he's genuinely only attracted to the mind. male or female or not even using that gender binary, if you fit whatever standard he holds for intelligence and actually love him he doesn't care what you physically are

- vulcans bond through souls so appearance basically doesn't matter. this doesn't mean he doesn't find you attractive, it just means he wouldn't care if you weren't. he loves everything about you anyway, beautiful or not to the world around you both

- you could call him pansexual and I feel like he prefers someone with a more feminine or elegant way of handling themselves. someone that generally is elegant and cunning seriously catches his attention, and on top of that someone who can and will openly challenge him genuinely makes him intrigued and enrapt with you

- he does kindof have a taste for people who can be reckless (cough Jim cough) due to impulse or bravery, seeing as he admires the fact that the person is willing to take a risk

- cannot be with someone closed off and cold, it just won't work cause he himself is basically a block of ice. he does feel but like barely, and even then he doesn't really show it

- one good way to tell the emotion is to look into his eyes. they speak more than he ever would about his feelings to anyone out loud

- writes poetry to give as presents to those he cares about; most commonly to lovers or his mom (at least he used to write for his mom, until she died). he writes actually very well, although his poetry is more structured than eloquent in a sense of interpretation and imaginativeness. he writes about things that he likes about you, which ends up describing all of you with very specific details you probably didn't realize until you read the lines

- appreciates art in all forms, although he's fairly certain he'd be bad at it. if you write stories or draw he's always open to helping you interpret characters or figure out a good way to express your own feeling through the ar if you're having trouble. encourages you to try new things with pretty much everything, but mostly art

- VERY very good at giving advice, he's basically the Strict Mom of the whole crew (I say strict mom because there are multiple different people who take the mom title, such as Leonard “Bones” McCoy; Stressed Mom). for instance if you're injured or being faced with mentally stressing conditions he'll most likely tell you to take breaks more often or suggest speaking about them to either your peers or to someone you trust. usually people go to him when they don't know what to do and he calculates the probabilities of each and suggest they put aside most emotional matters to think through it more clearly

- his ideal date would probably be like going to a museum or something, but all he’ll do is stay in a section with all the cool rocks and taxidermy animals while asking your opinion and knowledge on them curiously. he may know about pretty much everything in there but he doesn't care, he likes to watch you marvel at all the cool things in there

- 100% does buy the stuffed animals and figurines that are supposed to be models of stuff. yes, he knows that he can find that rock from that one planet practically anywhere but he still WANTS it because it GLOWS in the DARK

- probably would not think you're like seriously dating until the second month or so, mainly to calculate stability between you two

- is open to a marriage if he's been courting someone for a particularly long time, being at least three years or so. he's very very plan-oriented and organized and so he expects you to be lacking impulsiveness when making life-changing decisions

- bonding with his partner means the most to him in all honesty, though. it hold s such a high regard in his heart and soul that he genuinely feel s very very seriously and passionately about it. it's something he doesn't take with a grain of salt, mostly because he wants to be with the one he loves forever. you mean the world to him, and he wants to keep you as close as possible for as long as possible

- down to have kids, maybe a girl that he'd name Amanda, after his mother, or a boy named Grayson or some Vulcan name that you wouldn't be able to pronounce correctly without extensive practicing

- just thinks kids are nice, although he'd probably be a little hesitant and VERY protective

- OH and before I finish this is completely unrelated but I feel like he likes summer more than any other season since it reminds him of his homeland so much. that and he also likes that everything grows up nicely during this time

- his favorite flower is either the notch-leaf phacelia or the harvestbell mainly because he likes the colors and structure of them; he just thinks they look neat

- he'll get them for you whenever, most likely organize the flowers specifically himself for you, combining yours and his favorite flowers to look beautiful even though the could be completely different

- denies that he's a hopeless romantic, merely stating that he just wants you to know that he loves you by giving you poems and flowers

- but we all know The Truth

- tbh he just cares a lot, although he's bad a thing showing emotions. Spock is calm and collected, but inside a whirlpool of thoughts flood his head daily. be patient with him and he'll open up over time, letting you see into the depths of the mind you'll come to cherish so deeply

#spock #spock headcanons #spock headcanon #spock imagine #spock imagines #star trek: the original series #star trek: the motion picture #star trek headcanons #Star Trek headcanon #Star Trek imagine #star trek imagines #star trek beyond #star trek #Star Trek tos #tos

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fortunatelylori · 5 years

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GOT: The exhausting march towards the dramatic TWIST

I think I’m going to shock people with this statement but ... out of all the season 8 episodes we’ve seen so far, episode 4 is by far my favorite.

Now don’t get too excited by the seemingly warm tone ... what I mean by favorite is that I hated it less than episode 1 through 3, which is about as high a praise as I’m likely going to have for this debacle that is season 8.

General impressions:

There are two reasons why I felt this episode was better than the last 3:

1. It was more focused, with 3 clear storylines: D*ny’s war for the crown (story A), Jon’s and his family continuing to be dead inside (story B), Jaime’s return to his sister-lover (story C). This kind of focus and definite structure should be a given. However GOT decided to go all yolo on our asses this season and as we’ve already covered in my other reviews, it’s gotten to the point where I’m genuinely shocked to see an episode that doesn’t jump from plot point to plot point like an enraged orangutan on ecstasy.

2. It was centered around this woman:

Look at that face... Holy Shit! She’s going to give me nightmares!

Now, normally an episodes focused on D*ny would be bad news for me because I don’t particularly care for her, as half of my list of metas can conclusively prove.

However, since she’s the only character whose POV isn’t hidden and her scenes aren’t cut short or drained of any and all possibility of actual human emotion, she’s become the only character that I can watch without feeling frustrated, confused or on the verge of an anxiety attack. I actually like to know what the hell is happening on screen and what the character wants in any given scene. Call it a pet peeve of mine.

Although even D*ny, as well rounded a character as she is, suffers from the Ds oscillating trend this season. Last episode, D*ny stood her ground against the NK, committed herself and her armies to the defense of the realm and saved Jon’s life. This episode, she’s back in full Mad King’s daughter mode, with a pinch of Viserys on the side.

But that’s a quibble, honestly and you can always argue that Jorah’s death really pushed D*ny into a dark place in which the crown of Westeros and her war against Cersei becomes more important than her own humanity.

However, what isn’t a quibble is that death seems to have become a shorthand device the Ds employ to signal D*ny’s eventual rise as Queen of the Ashes. She loses Jorah in episode 3 and by the end of episode 4, she loses both Rhaegal and Missandei as well, leaving her in a seeming cliffhanger over whether or not to put the Red Keep to the torch as revenge.

The problem is that D*ny had been chopping at the bit to burn down King’s Landing since season 7 when she had to be talked out of doing just that TWICE. This episode Tyrion once again has to put the breaks on D*ny’s fiery fantasies.

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This scene right here is a treasure trove of Mad D*ny clues. But let’s focus on two of them. Firstly, the impetuous to burn KL is stil there:

D*ny: We will hit her hard. We will rip her out root and stem.

Tyrion: The objective here is to remove Cersei without destroying King’s Landing.

That is not a happy face ...

As D*ny put’s it, they need the capital because otherwise Cersei can continue calling herself the queen of the 7 kingdoms.

That’s D*ny’s priority, folks: the acquiring of that stupid title.

And if she has to march her weakened army, her sick dragon/child for thousands of miles and burn thousands of innocent people to get that title, she’ll do it.

Considering this set-up, why exactly did we need Missandei and Rahegal to die? One day into Tyrion’s proposed blockade and D*ny would be roasting giant marshmallows in the Red Keep gardens.

In my opinion, the reasons for killing Rhaegal and Missandei are not tied to the dark!dany arc at all. Instead, Rhaegal gets killed because they want to make the D*ny/Cersei conflict as even as possible so they’re eliminating one of D*ny’s weapons of mass destruction.

And Missandei ... poor Missandei gets killed in order to shock the audience. There is absolutely no reason to kill her in this way ... If she was to die, the time for that would have been in episode 3. They have to actually push the suspension of disbelief in order to convince the audience that somehow Euron got a hold of this girl from an armada of wrecked ships, instantly knew how important she was, dragged her back to the Red Keep and then brought her up on that wall expecting .... what??!

Euron and Cersei are far too smart to believe D*ny will give up her war for Missandei so why kill her so publicly? To intimidate D*ny? They didn’t need Missandei for that. They could have just as well beheaded all of the hostages they took from the ships.

They kill Missandei because that’s the easiest way for the Ds to surprise the audience and for them to garner some sort of sympathy for D*ny when she eventually does end up going all Pablo Escobar on a city filled with a million people.

The other glaring Mad D*ny moment in the scene and one that plays straight into political Jon, is this:

Sansa: The men we have left are exhausted. Many of them are wounded. They will fight better if they have time to rest and recuperate.

D*ny: How long do you suggest?

Sansa: Can’t say for certain. Not without talking to the officers.

D*ny: I came North to fight alongside you. At great cost to my armies and myself. And now that the time has come to reciprocate, you want to postpone?

Jon: The Northern forces will honor their promises and their allegiance to the queen of the 7 kingdoms. What you command, we will obey.

I’ve seen a lot of people being angry at Jon for “taking D*ny’s side” in this conflict but in order to understand how this plays into political Jon, there are 2 things you need to keep in mind:

The first is exactly when Sansa intervenes in the conversation. She steps in directly after both Tyrion and Jon manage to convince D*ny not to burn down King’s Landing. D*ny reluctantly agrees to the blockade because that would mean having to wait to take the crown and as she puts it:

D*ny: The longer I leave my enemies alone, the stronger they become.

Now Sansa wants to delay her even further. This is not acceptable to D*ny.

In addition to that, I don’t think Sansa appreciates just how dangerous and volatile D*ny is. She doesn’t know about the men being fed to dragons, or the 163 crucified masters or how close she was to jumping on a dragon and burning down KL in the past.

Jon, however, does understand D*ny quite well by this point. I don’t buy his speech as him agreeing with D*ny at all in this scene and considering this is the face he puts on to silence Sansa:

I’d say this is a guy desperately trying to keep a bomb from exploding directly in the face of someone he cares very deeply about.

Narratively, I believe this is supported by the Sansa/Tyrion scene later on when Sansa is surprised to realize that Tyrion is actually afraid of D*ny. She simply hadn’t considered that people are scared of what D*ny might do.

As interesting as D*ny’s descent into madness is (despite Missandei’s useless death), it’s counterbalanced by the shit show that continues to be Jon Snow.

Watching Jon’s arc this season, and by extension all the Starks, is like banging your head against a concrete wall over and over again, without making a dent. It’s pointless, exhausting and painful.

At this point I don’t care if he’s in love with D*ny or Sansa, if he’s pol!Jon or idiot!Jon, if he wants to be king or fuck off beyond the wall. I genuinely don’t care anymore. What I do care about is being given access to Jon’s story enough to figure out what the hell he wants and what he’s doing.

It’s one thing to keep a character’s POV hidden for an episode but we’re going on almost 2 seasons now. And Jon isn’t a secondary character like Littlefinger where you can get away with hiding the POV because he’s not as big a part of the plot as a main character is.

But Jon is a main character and this effort to keep him enigmatic and mysterious isn’t only wreaking havoc on his arc but it’s also affecting the rest of the Stark family. Case and point:

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In case anyone is keeping score, this is actually the first and only scene all the Starks have together in 4 episodes, amounting to 5 hours of footage.

And just look where they decide to end this scene! Right when we’re going to see Arya and Sansa react to the parentage reveal and see what they and Jon discuss next. They gave us the mere bones of this scene and left us without the meat.

The important part of the scene, the emotional underbelly, the opportunity to see these people come together and support and embrace Jon as the Stark they still think he is, is taken away from us. Because that would chip away at the mystery surrounding Jon’s arc this season.

I’d argue depriving Jon and the Starks of the emotional bond they share is way too steep a price to pay for what is essentially a cheap thirll that becomes cheaper and cheaper by the minute considering they’re delaying whatever reveal they’re planning on making past the point of me giving a shit!

This episode did, however, give me the perfect visual way of describing Jon’s storyline right now. Jon is basically stuck between:

and

and he chooses neither.

He sends Ghost away (without patting him because having KH and the wolf in the same frame would be too costly for the overly expensive GOT) and refuses to ride Rhaegal because ... reasons.

So instead of seeing him choose between being a direwolf and a dragon, we’re seeing him do nothing, while looking overly enigmatically blank for 5 hours straight. I just .... I’m sooooo tired of this. Can this be over now?

PS: I’d discuss Jaime’s storyline this episode but I don’t want to say: I told you so ... Well ... ok, if you insist:

a little sour milk dribble on Tormund’s beard and a silly giant story isn’t going to make me forget that Jaime has arrived in Winterfell on the coat tails of a 20+ year toxic relationship with a woman who is not only his twin sister but is also currently pregnant with his baby.

Also:

Jaime: She (Cersei) has always been good at using the truth to tell lies. Don’t be too hard on yourself. She’s fooled me more than anybody.

Tyrion: She never fooled you. You always knew exactly what she was. And you loved her anyway.

Yeah … Imagine entering a relationship with a guy exiting THAT. Dealing with sour milk beard is mild by comparison.

(source)

Favorite scenes

The “If you love me, you’ll erase yourself” scene:

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There is something so deeply disturbing about this scene that I can’t help but be fascinated by it. The J0nereys relationship has always been toxic and this scene right here encapsulates just why:

In order to be with D*ny, Jon needs to give up everything that makes him who he is. In season 7, he was forced to bend the knee and suffer the ire of the entire North for it. Now D*ny is asking him not only to give up his claim but also lie about who he is and separate himself from his family in order to make sure that D*ny gets to be queen.

No one, not one person in this world, no matter how beautiful, rich, good in bed or seemingly in love with you, is worth you giving up who you are and removing yourself from your family (provided said family is not toxic, of course). And anyone that would ask you to do that, should be dumped on their asses pronto.

Jon can’t do that, unfortunately. Because he’s brought D*ny here to fight “his war” and pretended to be in love with her. And also because D*ny simply isn’t rational anymore. So he’s stuck apologizing for people liking him (just think about that!) and having to put up with her saying things like:

D*ny: It doesn’t matter what you want! You didn’t want to be king in the North! What happens when they demand you press your claim and TAKE WHAT IS MINE?

Except the crown isn’t D*ny’s. It never was. Logistically speaking, the crown belongs to Cersei right now. Legitimately, the crown is Jon’s. It’s D*ny that is actually taking what is his, not the other way around. Imagine making someone apologize for you doing that to them. That’s all kinds of messed up.

Speaking of which:

Jon: You are my queen! I don’t know what else I can say!

D*ny: You can say nothing! To anyone! Ever! Never tell them who you really are. Swear your brother and Samwell Tarly to secrecy and tell no one else!

You know what she sounds like? Like Tangled’s Mother Gothel convincing Rapunzel that she’s better off being her prisoner.

Yikes! She’s genuinely terrifying!

Also:

D*ny: Sansa will want to see me gone and you on the Iron Throne.

Jon: She won’t.

D*ny: She’s not the girl you grew up with. Not after what she’s seen. Not after what they’ve done to her.

2 things:

1. I hope every D*ny stan in the universe either denounces D*ny for victim blaming or closes their mouths about feminism, misogyny and pitting women against women for the rest of time. If you support this woman and consider her a positive role model, you are not allowed to discuss these subjects in public ever again.

2. Can you really blame Jon for taking D*ny’s side against Sansa in the council meeting? He already knows just what D*ny thinks of Sansa and what she’d like to do to her if she is given the opportunity. Hurting Sansa’s feelings is preferable to her losing her life.

The “This better not be unrequited love, Ds!” scene:

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This face right here ... this face:

It’s heartbreaking. And what really angers me about this scene is that it could have been all the more meaningful had the parentage reveal been played in full. Actually seeing Sansa reacting, hearing Jon’s fears or his anguish, would make her fighting for his crown when he refuses to do so even more powerful and romantically charged.

Still, this scene comes in direct contrast to the Jon/D*ny scene. While D*ny wants to force Jon to live a lie for the rest of his life, to humble himself and make himself small so she can have all the power and the love of the people, Sansa not only shoots down the possibility of her being the only one in charge of the North and holding steadfast to the idea that Jon will stay in Winterfell. She goes as far as tell Tyrion Jon is the rightful heir when she realizes that despite his supposed loyalty to D*ny, Tyrion is actually afraid of her.

She sees an opening to ensure Jon’s freedom and she takes it without hesitation.

If, at the end of all of this, Jon ends up going beyond the wall instead of staying with a woman who loves and values him this much, then Westeros truly is a cruel and horrible place and I’ll be sorry I invested so many years of my life to it.

Episode MVPs

Euron “Best General in fucking Westeros” Greyjoy:

Euron gets to be MVP this episode because in one fell swoop he destroyed D*ny’s fleet and brought down one of her dragons. What can I say ... Competency really turns me on.

Too bad Cersei doesn’t love him. If these two actually cared about each other, they could be the McBeths of Westeros. Nothing could stand in their way!

Lord “What an Icon!” Varys:

What can one say about this glorious man? He is MVP for the second time in 4 reviews and somehow I think he’s not done yet.

Varys and Tyrion got down to some realpolitick this episode. But Varys had some truly outstanding lines, like:

Varys: How many others know?

Tyrion: Including us? Eight.

Varys: Well, then it’s not a secret anymore. It’s information. If a handful of people know now, hundreds will know soon.

It’s so rare to find a man that understands gossip so well!

Varys: I’ve served tyrants all my life. They all talk about destiny.

As a person born under a communist regime, I concur, Varys.

And my personal favorite:

Varys: You know where my loyalty stands. You know I will never betray the realm.

Tyrion: What is the realm? A vast continent, home to millions of people, most of whom don’t care who sits on the Iron Throne.

Varys: Millions of people, many of whom will die if the wrong person sits on that throne. We don’t know their names but they’re just as real as you and I. They deserve to live. They deserve food for their children. I will act in their interests, no matter the personal cost.

If this show doesn’t end with a 7 foot, cockless statue of Varys presiding over the whole of Westeros as the ICON that he is, what was even the point?!?!?

#got8 #got8 spoilers #got 8x04 #got8 review #sansa stark #jon snow #dark!dany #lord varys #jonsa #euron greyjoy #braime

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ruthfeiertag · 4 years

Text

Random Ruminations on Depression

Preamble:

I want to take back the word ruminate. The Online Etymology Dictionary explains that the word “ruminate (v.)” dating from the 1530s, means “'to turn over in the mind,’ also ‘to chew cud’ (1540s), from Latin ruminatus, past participle of ruminare ‘to chew the cud; turn over in the mind,' from rumen (genitive ruminis) ‘gullet,’ of uncertain origin.” Merriam-Webster Online Gives the definition of ruminate as

transitive verb

1: to go over in the mind repeatedly and often casually or slowly 2: to chew repeatedly for an extended period

intransitive verb

1: to chew again what has been chewed slightly and swallowed : chew the cud 2: to engage in contemplation : REFLECT

https://pixabay.com/photos/pensive-female-woman-window-staring-580611/

But psychology — and in general I have real respect and genuine gratitude for the healing and support psychology and psychotherapists provide; if I kept a gratitude journal, my therapist’s name would be on every page — has come near to ruining this apt word that perfectly expresses the way many of us need or choose to take the time to ponder and deliberate rather than hasten to judge or get embroiled in the consequences of an ill-considered decision. Psychology, as a field, has decided ruminate should mean obsessively thinking about whatever is bothering one, over and over and over…

I think one of the reasons this definition has become popular, not only among psychologists, but in the general public as well, is that we have such short attention spans and have come to prize speed over all else. We rush to embrace technology that robs us of our privacy, we don’t stay to watch the credits after a movie (unless there’s an added scene), we expect to know the results of every election before the votes are all counted. Take a breath, people. Being ruminative used to be a positive attribute, one that indicated one was a careful, thoughtful person, not inclined to fling one’s self pell-mell off a cliff. Now it is a weakness, a character flaw that indicates one brings one’s misfortunes upon one’s self because one can’t control one’s thoughts.

Join me in my mission. Let’s rescue ruminate. Start using it in its proper sense. Fling it with abandon into your philosophical conversations: “I was ruminating upon the meaning of life the other day and wondering just what 42 really has to do with it.” If someone tries to push you into making a snap decision, say, “You know, in order to give you the thoughtful answer you deserve, I need to ruminate on that for a day or two.” When next asked to describe yourself, pause for a moment, then declare, “I am an attentive, measured sort of person with a ruminative cast to my mind.” (Just don’t tell anyone you’re a ruminant. That will totally undermine our goal.)

And after we save ruminate, we’re coming back for you, enable.

*****************************

Every so often, the New Yorker slips a suggestion for an archived article into the Inbox of my e-mail. That how I came across Andrew Solomon’s article, “Anatomy of Melancholy,” that appeared in New Yorker’s January 12, 1998 issue. It’s a pretty harrowing description of the depths down to which depression can pull person, and of the biases that still pertain when it comes to admitting to others or to ourselves that we have a mental illness and, worse, might be so “weak” as to need chemical (or electrical) interventions. As I moved through the essay, I can upon this proffered bit of wisdom:

Accuracy of perception is not an evolutionary priority. Too optimistic a world view results in foolish risk-taking, but moderate optimism gives you a strong selective advantage. “Normal human thought and perception,“ Shelley Taylor writes in her 1989 book, Positive Illusions, “is marked not by accuracy but by positive self-enhancing illusions about the self, the world, and the future. Moreover…these illusions are not merely characteristic of human thought; they appear actually to be adaptive.” As she notes, “The mildly depressed appear to have more accurate views of themselves, the world, and the future than normal people. [They] clearly lack the illusions that in normal people promote mental health and buffer them against setbacks.”

hulki-okan-tabak-SKadYI4E7OM-unsplash-scaled

So — why are those of us with depression and accurate perceptions the ones who are mentally ill, while the “normies” with their illusions are the ones who are considered sane? Why are we the ones who are seen as less evolved? Am I the only one who thinks this assessment is a little bit off?

************************************

In a recent car commercial, actor and apparent guru Matthew McConaughey ruminates (see how easy it is to just slip the word right into a sentence?) out loud about the process of identity formation. He muses

“Knowin’ who we are is hard — it’s hard. Eliminatin’ who you are are not, first, and you’re gonna find yourself where ya need to be.”

OK: first, shouldn’t the logic of the first sentence — the search for identity — lead to a statement about finding out who one is rather than where one is? I guess that’s what happens when one infuses manufactured sagacity into an advert for a vehicle. And never mind the lack of parallel structure in the second sentence.

But what I keep thinking is, “What if we, as is recommended by Mr. McConaughey, eliminate all the people we are not, only to realize there’s no one left?” That’s kind of who-where I keep finding myself.

*********************************

An ethical dilemma: At the recommendation of a friend, I picked up Change Your Brain, Change Your Life, by Daniel G. Amen. M.D. I haven’t read very far into it, but so far there are some sensible observations about the practicality of having one’s brain scanned for damage so one knows whether medical or psychotherapeutic remedies are most likely to be beneficial. However, on page twenty-nine, our friend the doctor discusses thing that hurt the brain and things that help the brain. Under malign influences, Dr. Amen notes that “even spending time with unhealthy people [is] bad for the brain.” OK: I can see how that can work.

In the next paragraph, Dr. Amen lists things that can boost the brain. This list includes the point that “In many ways, the best thing you can do for your brain is to spend time with healthy people. As we will see, they are contagious. I often say the fastest way to get healthy is to find the healthiest person you can stand and then spend as much time around him or her as possible.” That also makes sense.

BUT — and you may already see the problem here — let’s say I’m a healthy person. I know an unhealthy person, someone with, say, depression, someone who would immensely benefit from spending time with me. Yet if I do spend time with that person, I’ll be engaged in an activity that will be detrimental to my own grey matter. On the other hand, if I choose to protect myself by shunning the depressed person, I’m selfishly depriving her or him of my beneficial “contagion” and preventing that person from attaining the flourishing cerebrum she or he deserves. (Unless, of course, that person has been ruminating. In that case, she or he deserves all the melancholy that infests her or his soul. [That’s an example how NOT to use the word ruminating.]) I’m either allowing harm to come to myself or withholding aid from another, which makes me a pretty lousy human being, and knowing that I’m a pretty lousy human will depress me.

Now let’s imagine that I am the unhealthy person, and I know a tremendously healthy person, in whose salubrious presence I never fail to rally. I have a lot of time on my hands. I easily could spend days with this person and notably sharpen my dulled mental functions and ameliorate my debilitating mood. However, by latching on to this bloom-imparting individual, I will be causing harm to that person’s well-being and will likely disrupt her or his equilibrium. That would make me an insensitive parasite, sucking the life out of someone for my own ends, and being such a draining leech would make me feel horrible and depressed.

So what to do? I hate lose-lose, damned-if-you-do-or-don’t, caught-between- Scylla-and-a-hard-place options.

**********************************

And then Will Wheaton put this up on his Blog:

報復性熬夜

Revenge Bedtime Procrastination, which has a much more beautiful name in Chinese (the literal translation for revenge bedtime procrastination means “suffering through the night vengefully.”), is a phenomena unique to people who feel out of control in their daily lives, so we refuse to go to sleep early, to exert some control over our lives, and to enjoy some quiet time alone, when the rest of our people are sleeping.

I should confess, straight up, that I am, by nature, a night owl. It runs in the family. But I love both this concept and its name. Between the depression and the M.E. and the State of the Union, I’m having an increasingly hard time getting any sleep. I just wish being AWAKE YES I’M AWAKE YES I DO KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS OH ISN’T THAT A LOVELY SUNRISE? would wreak some actual vengeance on the conditions and people who are responsible for my near-insomnia.

*****************************

Image by Stefan Keller from Pixabay https://pixabay.com/photos/fantasy-face-branches-woman-3317298/

I hope my ruminations provide some conceptual cud for your synapses, dear reader, to masticate at the pace of your choosing. And don’t forget: enable is still waiting for us to effect an heroic rescue, one worthy of our idiom.

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thiscrimsonsoul · 4 years

Text

Meta: Physical and Emotional Ramifications of Hydra’s Experimentation on the Maximoff Twins

INTRODUCTION:

Anyone who knows me as a writer knows that I enjoy writing these kinds of huge metas and really getting down to the details about my muses and their lives. Not only does this help me to come from an informed place when I write my muses, but I also genuinely enjoy over-analyzing things that probably no one should really be looking that closely at, haha.

Narrowing this down to just MCU Wanda and Pietro, I am going to look at what might have happened to them during their time in the Hydra laboratory and what the short and long term consequences of that might have been for them. MCU has a habit of saying “hey this traumatic/terrible thing happened in a character’s past, and now we’re going to completely ignore it and said character’s reaction to it forevermore,” which can get annoying when trying to flesh out my muses’ emotional and psychological health. It feels incomplete to me, and so, even if I never specifically write any threads during this time in their lives or referring to these specific things, it helps me get into my characters’ heads to have a complete picture of what they’ve been through and where they’re coming from mentally as they react to new things that arise in rp threads.

DISCLAIMER:

Lots of triggering themes ahead! Things like doctors, needles, surgery, physical and emotional abuse, behavioral conditioning, and bad things happening to minors (depending on what ages you ascribe to the twins at the time of their experimentation). Please take care when reading!

(Under the cut because LONG. XD)

LOSS OF FREEDOM / VOLUNTARY IMPRISONMENT:

We see in Captain America: The Winter Soldier that the twins are kept in cells. Observational rooms, to be more accurate. Arguably, they are not being treated very well, for reasons I will get into as I continue this meta. So the question is... why do they stay? MCU gives us the reason that they wanted to strengthen themselves and gain a means to fight back against those who were making Sokovia a war zone, but once they volunteered for Strucker’s experiments and saw what they entailed, they probably realized they were in over their heads. Not that they weren’t capable of surviving, since they were the only ones who actually did survive, but just that this would require things of them that maybe they weren’t expecting... like a lot of invasive medical procedures, punishments for not doing as their told, and worst of all, separation. So again, why do they stay?

Once could argue that they aren’t free to leave, but this isn’t true. In the beginning of Avengers: Age of Ultron, we see that the twins are permitted (at least sometimes) to move about the facility freely. Strucker’s not an idiot, and neither are probably a majority of the soldiers and scientists employed at that facility, so they had to know that with Pietro’s and Wanda’s power combined, if the twins wanted to leave, they absolutely could. And yet, they stay. I don’t have a great answer as to why this is, but I can hazard some guesses.

First, maybe they really believed their cause that they were willing to sacrifice a lot to see it through to the end. I buy that mostly, except for the separation issue and the fact that they were each probably incredibly stressed out and upset by anything happening to the other. That had got to be one of the most central themes with the twins: don’t separate us, and don’t hurt my sibling. I feel like Pietro especially would not be cool with staying in a place that treated Wanda poorly, regardless of what happened to him. So there must be something else keeping them there.

I have sometimes thought that, as time went on, maybe there was a strange sort of psychology going on here, something akin to Stockholm Syndrome, where they might have come to psychologically see their captors as allies in some way. This is especially believable if you remember that the twins thought they were in good hands, namely being taken in by SHIELD. Hydra is likely well acquainted with the signs of this syndrome, and therefore probably felt comfortable letting the twins have some freedom, knowing they would always come back. Not that they would have necessarily befriended people who kept them in cells and treated them poorly, but they might have identified with them as far as feeling like everyone in the facility was working toward the same end for the same reasons. Of course that wasn’t true, but they had no way of knowing that.

EXPERIMENTAL DESIGN AND MONITORING:

Alright, now we get really depressing. I was thinking the other day about what these experiments would have entailed, and I think most people assume that oh, we’re like touching the staff to the twins or aiming it at them and boom, magical powers. But as a scientist myself, I started to think about Hydra actually running real experiments... as in, not fly-by-night, haphazard, hey let’s try this, sorts of things... but true structured experiments with hypothesis, scientific methods, reps, sampling, data, results, and conclusions. Once you do that, things get pretty grim for the twins.

The actual experiments were never described in the movies, but just thinking about what they could have entailed is rather shocking. They could have involved transferring energy from the scepter to the twins, perhaps with wires or some other sort of delivery system. Restraining them would probably have been necessary, and I would guess that once wouldn’t have been enough. Once Hydra began seeing actual results with the twins, they most likely would have wanted to push further to see if greater enhancement could be achieved by repeating the process.

So how could they tell if their experiments were doing anything, aside from the twins developing powers? In order to standardize their experiments and ensure that real changes arose in their test subjects, Hydra would need to not only monitor them visually, but medically and genetically. This would require a lot of samples of things... Blood, certainly, but also perhaps hair or cheek cells or maybe even skin. Blood is great for certain types of genetic makeups, but swabbing the inside of someone’s cheek for cells can provide detailed genetic information about them upon analysis of those cells. And hair is like a time capsule as far as showing when certain physiological changes might have occurred. For example, certain dietary changes, heavy metal exposure, or other types of poisoning can not only be detected in hair, but how close to the follicle it is found would determine how long ago it occurred. If the twins were there for several months or a year, this type of monitoring would have been ideal for data collection.

So not only were the twins probably subjected to needles and scalpels and other things that may have been used to collect biological samples from them, but they would have been subjected to this on a regular basis. The more data points you have, the more sound your data set is, and Hydra probably would have wanted to be very sure and thorough. They also have little regard for humane treatment of those they view as test subjects, so that would not have helped the twins. Which brings me to my next topic...

ASSURANCE OF THE TWINS’ COMPLIANCE:

Even if the twins did develop some sort of psychological rationalization for remaining in the laboratory voluntarily, they likely resisted things that hurt or scared them or their sibling. It is realistic to think that Hydra would have employed physical punishments such as withholding food, use of shocks or maybe even tasers, and goodness knows what else. Maybe even the threat of these things would have been enough to get them to submit to testing and sampling.

Depending on how long the twins were at the laboratory, these punishments and behavioral control mechanisms would gradually have changed the way the twins behaved toward the scientists and soldiers who either were administering these things or were doing the testing they were ordered to comply with. Especially if they were each threatened with the other’s pain, suffering, or deprivation in order to ensure that they obeyed, which I’ll come back to later.

PHYSICAL / HEALTH EFFECTS:

If we look closely at the twins’ appearance during their time in the laboratory, there are many signs that they were being neglected or outright abused. There is also a definite indicator that they may have been drugged at times. Let’s take these ideas one at a time.

(gif cred.)

Looking first at Wanda, she seems pale and gaunt, which may be an indication of malnutrition. Her eyes are red (aside from the red glow in them) and there are dark bags under them, which might indicate that she’s not sleeping well. Her hair looks stringy, greasy, and not brushed, an indicator of poor hygiene. She’s also wearing a glorified smock, so... not much dignity or care taken there with her clothing.

(gif cred.)

Pietro isn’t much better in his loose sleeveless shirt, although he might have needed a cooler outfit due to his high metabolism. His hair also looks a bit greasy and is overgrown compared to what it looks like later in Ultron. Notice the tremors in his right hand? I’ll come back to that in the emotional/psychological section.

Now... all of these things might have just been the result of intense scientific experimentation and the fact that they were often confined to cells, the time and space afforded them just not enough for proper bathing or conducive to good sleep. Maybe Hydra monitored their sleep or woke them up for testing. Maybe they have them on a very strict or limited diet for some reason. Or... Hydra may have been attempting to control them by not letting them sleep a lot, withholding food, and otherwise depriving the twins of basic human comforts and needs. Given the nature of Hydra, I tend to go with the latter when writing their backgrounds.

The last thing I noticed was that Wanda and Pietro have matching hand wraps. Both of their right hands are wrapped up in similar ways. At first I thought this was just meant to make them look injured or otherwise poorly treated, or that it was meant to imply that something had happened to Wanda’s hand while using her powers and to Pietro’s while repeatedly running into the wall, but now I don’t think this is true. I think the bandage is securing something that’s not only on their hands, but in them.

You see the little white piece of plastic near the little blue round piece of plastic on the centers of the backs of their hands? It’s most visible in Wanda’s gif. To me, that looks like an intravenous injection port. In other words, it’s a little port inserted into their hands, into a vein, and it’s left there for convenience sake. Anytime Hydra would need to administer medication or maybe a sedative of some kind or even a test drug, they could open the port, insert a needle and inject the liquid directly into their veins with a syringe. I won’t paste the picture here in case anyone is triggered by images like this, but this is what an I.V. injection port looks like here.

This pretty much confirms that the twins were being injected with something. The most likely thing to be would be a sedative, although I doubt this would have lasted very long or worked very well on Pietro with his increased metabolism. Maybe they just upped the dosage for him and did what they needed to do quickly before he woke up. The use of sedatives may have been necessary while procuring blood or other tissue samples from them if they were frightened, panicking, angry, or just plain unwilling to comply. Also, while something was being done with one twin, they may have drugged the other so they wouldn’t have to put up with one trying to come to the other’s defense.

Of course it might not have all been completely nefarious (although it’s likely, given that it’s Hydra). Maybe they were injected with antihistamines to prevent allergic responses, anti-inflammatory agents to prevent tissue swelling, antibiotics or antivirals to prevent infection, things like that. It opens up a lot of possibilities for development as far as what the experiments might have entailed and what sorts of things were done to the twins during the course of them. It also makes the idea that Wanda was drugged at the end of Captain America: Civil War all the more traumatizing for her if she had lasting psychological effects from having this done to her by Hydra previously, which takes me to the next section...

EMOTIONAL / PSYCHOLOGICAL CONSEQUENCES:

The stress and trauma of the experiments themselves, the monitoring and sampling, the restraining and the confinement, the separation from each other, and being deprived of their basic needs has got to have had some emotional and psychological effects on the twins, both in the moment and long-term, right? Let’s take the twins one at a time and look at what their experiences might have meant for their mental health.

Wanda’s experience would have been one of both fear and frustration. She might have seen her brother treated poorly, been drugged against her will, felt pain as a result of the effects of the scepter on her or from being treated roughly by Hydra scientists and soldiers, and she would have most likely been restrained in some way to ensure the safety of those working in the lab. Maybe Hydra had some kind of high frequency device or collar or something similar to prevent her from using her powers. So... what might the effects of this type of experience be?

While at the lab, Wanda might have started out afraid and later grown rebellious and angry. Definitely, she would have developed a general distrust for people, and may even have some fear of being accosted by people or approached too quickly. Anytime someone approached her in the lab, she learned she was going to feel pain or have something frightening done to her, so through this type of conditioning she might develop fears of strangers getting too close, of needles and medical equipment, and of being grabbed. Even certain seemingly insignificant things like the sound of a syringe being flicked to void the air from it, the smell of latex gloves, or the sight of a white lab coat might make her panicky or even send her into a flashback. PTSD is a reality for Wanda, and for Pietro as well.

And just like Pietro, Wanda’s sense of solidarity and the psychology of “us against the world” with her sibling would be greatly intensified. If Hydra thought that separating them and subjecting them to all these terrible things would break their bond, they were wrong. If anything, their bond would have been strengthened even more by these experiences. Even if Hydra sought to employ behavioral modification tactics (such as hurting one twin until the other complies), I feel like this wouldn’t drive a wedge between the twins, but would only cement their dedication to one another and desire of each to protect the other.

Which brings me to the effects on Pietro. Pietro... I feel had the worse time here, and I’ll explain why. He would have had the same experiences as Wanda as far as everything else I’ve mentioned in this section so far, but then on top of that would have some problems, fears, and side effects unique to him. So let’s go into what some of Pietro’s unique issues with the experimentation might be.

Some believe that Pietro is so protective of his sister because he loves her and is the older twin and therefore feels a great responsibility to watch over her, and that is certainly true. But for those of you that draw from the comics, as I do, and incorporate that Wanda was the victim of a sexual assault as a child and therefore believe that Pietro felt a lot of guilt over not protecting her then, her treatment in the Hydra laboratory might have really hit upon Pietro’s protective instincts and brought all that guilt from their childhood back up to the surface for him. Especially if the scientists used Wanda to get Pietro to obey, such as hurting or threatening to hurt her if he didn’t do as they said, he would once again be responsible, however indirectly, for Wanda being hurt. That would have had a big and traumatic effect on him, and once they were freed from the lab, he would have been even more protective of her because of this.

That’s how his sibling’s treatment would have effected him, but how would he be dealing with things on his own? Aside from probably developing all the same fears of scientists, doctors, needles, medical equipment, etc. that his sister would, Pietro would also have felt confined, maybe even claustrophobic in that tiny observation room.

Look at the impact here with the wall. My goodness. Yes, he was learning to use his powers here, so he wouldn’t have had the kind of control he had in Ultron, but he’s also not stupid. After a couple attempts, he would have realized that launching himself inside a tiny room like that would have painful consequences. Continuing to slam himself into the walls would have resulted in all sorts of bruises, maybe even torn muscles or broken bones, and maybe things like dislocated shoulders. He heals very fast, but even so, he would feel the initial pain of these injuries, which is in itself traumatic. The reason I didn’t include this in the “physical effects” section is because I feel like there is a psychological component to him doing this as well...

Have you ever been to a zoo, especially one that isn’t handled all that well and has really small enclosures for the animals, and they’re behaving really funny? Walking in circles, making repetitive motions, walking around in the same pattern over and over again within their enclosure, sitting facing a wall or corner, or even walking into the walls? This is because they are actually suffering from psychological trauma (that could result in physical trauma depending on what they’re doing exactly) from not being free to move, run, or just exist as they wish to. Not just wish to... need to. Well, Pietro needs to move.

I headcanon that even before the experiments, he was a high-energy guy, and if you go with the comics and say the twins are mutants, then their powers are also genetic/hereditary. So Pietro is, by nature, someone who is high energy and needs to keep moving and to move fast. Being confined to a tiny room would have had an immense effect on him psychologically, and he might have developed the same strange behavioral patterns as mistreated animals at a zoo. He might have rationally known that attempting to use his speed within his cell would harm him or at least be really painful, but emotionally and physiologically he is driven to move and simply cannot resist doing this, even if it harms him.

Which brings me to the tremors in his right hand in that first gif of him. If you look closely enough, you can actually see the muscles all up his arm spasming as well. They could be an indicator of many things. It could be a sign of neurological damage. Whether the result of the experiments or from the impact of hitting his head or back against the walls of his cell, Pietro might have injured himself, resulting in nerve damage. It likely healed, given his body’s fast healing capabilities, but that’s what it could be.

However, it could also be entirely psychological, and if so, there are three potential reasons for it. First, Pietro may be so full of energy and filled to the brim with a desire to use it, that running for one second inside a cell isn’t cutting it. Kindof like if you have a lot of caffeine and get jitters, he’s literally shaking from being so high-strung and not having a sufficient or positive outlet for his energy. Second, and this is kindof sad, but it may simply be a sign of psychological stress. Like when someone shakes during an anxiety or panic attack, his nerves might be shot from all the stress he’s experiencing in the laboratory. And third, it may be another behavioral tic resulting from feeling like a caged animal in a zoo, a sign that he is not emotionally or psychologically stable that is manifesting as a physical tic.

CONCLUSION:

All of this amounts to either 1) it’s a wonder they were as normal and stable in Ultron as they were (and beyond for Wanda), or 2) they should not have been this stable but MCU didn’t want to deal with all the physical, emotional, and psychological impacts that being treated this way would have had on the twins. I tend to incorporate a lot more of the potential damage they have suffered into writing them because it lets me write what I feel are more realistic and rounded characters. I’m not cherry-picking the easy or happy bits, avoiding mentioning when things would upset them, or sugar-coating their reactions to triggering things, but instead I’m letting them express it as I feel befits their personalities. Wanda and Pietro don’t deal with things in the same way or express their emotional traumas the same way, and part of fleshing out these characters and taking them through arcs of healing and recovery is acknowledging that they are damaged people. MCU glosses over so much with them that either the twins would not have been able to ignore or would have come back to haunt them at a later date. I instead want to present them as they are, two people who have been through many different kinds of hell, and see what they can do with it, how other muses can help and guide them, and what they can become through the process of recovery. That is what is most fun and fulfilling for me as a writer, when I can realistically flesh out a character and take them to places the canon never dared or bothered to tread. =)

Alright I’ve rambled enough! I hope you have enjoyed this, and if you’ve gotten to this point I just want to say thank you for reading! Feel free to comment through replies, asks, or messages if you wish. As with all metas I write on any of my blogs, I love to get feedback and hear other people’s takes on what I’ve mentioned.

#the maximoff twins #wanda maximoff #pietro maximoff #hydra #marvel

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halfshelled · 5 years

Note

I have been waiting for this moment my entire life... How do the boys function as a team? And does anything that Draxum says to them actually affect their team dynamic?

BOI

i have been thinking about this for ages get ready for the ramble of your life

the boys in the Draxum AU have extremely tense and complicated relationships, especially when they’re with Draxum but hopefully i can put them into words well enough here SO

im gunna start with the actual team dynamics for when they’re on missions/in training and then go into more personal interactions

for ease of reference since donnie isn’t a fighter raph, leo, & mikey will be referred to as The Soldiers and i’m gunna put this under a read more because its gunna be LOOOONG

OFF WE GO!

Donnie doesnt go on missions or train with his brothers. he did when they were younger (they all started extremely young, like roughly 5-7 years old) but once he showed not only an interest in but an extreme aptitude for mechanical and biomystical science he stopped training and instead draxum took him under his wing as a lab partner/apprentice. the praise and pressure from draxum towards donnie was the first big wedge driven between the brothers

The others were taught how to fight individually before Draxum began having them spar with each other and eventually allying himself with Big Mama for more intensive work fighting in the Battle Nexus

Raph is a defacto leader of the Soldiers since he’s the biggest (most physically imposing + raw strength) and the oldest (been training the longest). He doesn’t say much and doesn’t usually need to, quite literally following “actions speak louder than words”. He doesn’t see his brothers as competition quite the same way Leo does but rather takes great pressure on himself to be the strongest to protect them, whether they need it or not. His destructive power is the one thing he’s certain he’s good for but it’s driven a fear of hurting his brothers and a refusal to show weakness.

Leo falls in as a second in command but Draxum and Big Mama’s comments (direct in Draxum’s case and indirect in Mama’s) tend to undermine his ability compared to the others and foot him as the underdog nobody really believes can win. His specialty lies primarily in his agility and stamina, especially as his greatest chance in a fight against Raph. He’s extremely jealous of the other Soldiers and has a deep rooted inferiority complex towards them because of how often he’s put down as a drag on the other two, especially after the loss of his leg.

Mikey is happy to be the follower in the group despite clearly being Draxum’s favorite warrior. Mikey’s early cockiness and pure skill/intuition at besting the others in combat quickly led to him being separated from them during training as individuals. Draxum is extremely hard on Mikey during lessons and it’s burnt out a lot of his confidence. He’s got a perfectionism streak a mile long and it eats at him every time he feels he’s made a mistake, especially when he sees his older brothers all cover and take the fall for him.

Raph & Leo are constantly pitted against one another in sparring, far more so than either of them have been pitted against Mikey combined (though they are occasionally set up as a team against Mikey). They rarely talk to each other and they both see one another as reckless and selfish. Despite their pointed differences in combat styles, strengths/weaknesses, and personality they’re really rather similar at their cores but because of the rivalry Draxum’s set for them they can’t slow down long enough to see it. Both of them want to be better warriors to take care of the others and above all want to prove they’re worth something like they feel Mikey and Donnie have. They butt heads and have torn each other up pretty bad, but they’ve got to watch each others’ backs and have a silent pact to keep on eye on the other two. At the end of the day, they have an understanding of each other that begins rather shakily but grows incredibly strong after the boys escape to the surface.

Raph & Donnie do not get along. They weren’t particularly close as kids and the isolation of both of them from one another hasn’t helped, self imposed or otherwise. Some of the rare occasions they interact are when Donnie is testing some new invention/weapon or when they’re on caretaker duty for Lou Jitsu. Raph doesn’t trust Donnie half as far as he can throw him for numerous reasons (primarily his proximity/loyalty to Draxum and his opinion that D’s betrayed the Soldiers and thinks he’s better than the three of them). He only yields to Donnie’s demands to give him medical treatment when he’s too damaged to refuse or Draxum steps in to force Raph to sit still for 30 minutes and let Don work. Donnie on the other hand finds Raph’s stubbornness and tough guy attitude incredibly annoying since it’s an obstacle and he knows he’ll have to fix whatever Raph breaks, whether its an actual object or his arm again. One of the things they have in common though is that more often than not they’re going to be awake. They’re both the first and last ones asleep on any given day.

Donnie & Leo are fairly close despite not being able to interact often. Leo doesn’t see Don as competition and isn’t afraid to talk to Donnie about weakness or issues he’s having. Donnie finds trying to explain his process to Leo a good way to find issues in any places he gets stuck while working. It gives each of them a chance to be talkative even if just for a little bit out of the day. They confide in each other openly and since both of them strive for Draxum’s praise in differing fields they often provide one another with pointers to try and improve. They’re ideology and morality scales can make it hard for them to see eye to eye on some subjects and when they disagree they disagree hard and it puts both of them in a set of bad moods that rival tornado season thunder storms.

Donnie & Mikey don’t connect much but they’re never hostile. Sometimes Mikey’s high energy can rub Donnie the wrong way, especially if D’s extra sleep deprived. Donnie knows Mikey can get freaked out by all the medical stuff so he tries to explain it and lets Mike ramble because he knows it helps calm him down. A lot of their interactions are short and somewhat stiff since they don’t have as many opportunities to bond. Draxum expects highly of both of them and they have an unspoken bond over it, occasionally exchanging a few jokes about it to try and lighten one another’s mood and keep their collective mind off the stress. Like Leo & Raph, they end up becoming closer once they escape. They both shoulder a lot of confusion and anxiety about if it was the right thing to do and Mikey helps ease Donnie into the idea of starting from scratch while Donnie helps Mikey adjust to his newfound need for structure when they’re suddenly without any.

Mikey & Leo have one of those dynamics where they’re constantly exchanging quips and snarky responses. A pair of speedy acrobats, they tend to run circles around their oldest brother and together can drive Raph up a wall, especially when they decide to team up and take over a mission instead of listen to him. They do get along but it can be hard for them to be genuine with one another. Draxum’s instilled each of them with the belief that they aren’t on any sort of level playing ground together and they’re attempts at crossing the gap are awkward at best. It’s not uncommon for them to misinterpret one another’s kindness as patronizing and get into a spitting match over it. Leo’s intensely jealous of Mikey and Mikey often feels like Leo purposefully tries to exclude him. The duo can more or less be summed up in the phrase “it’s all fun and game until someone loses an eye” as they metaphorically street race one another at any given chance.

Mikey & Raph are extremely close in a similar way Leo and Donnie are. I’ve mentioned in passing before that Mikey tends to climb on Raph whenever he can get away with it and that it’s a security blanket act for the both of them. It’s a silent exchange of personal weakness between them. It’s a reminder to Raph that his brothers trust him to take care of them and not just fight for them while it lets Mikey be childish and solidifies his place as a member of the family in his own eyes. Mikey manages to get Raph to talk a little more/talk more freely about what’s on his mind and distracts him from all the weight on his shoulders as the protector. Raph meanwhile allows Mikey to be quiet or afraid when he needs to as well as indulging in his little brother’s need for physical affection. They help one another escape momentarily away from the need to fit in their roles and process their emotions, whatever they may be.

#frens #i need a good tag for you my dude #i say words #au info #draxum au #new lore hot off the presses #my writing #i went on a massive ramble i hope this actually answered the question akjshjdh #feel free to ask me more if you want to know or any something clarified i loved the chance to babble about my boys

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waywardandwestward · 6 years

Text

Let Me Be Your Shelter (Chapter Three)

Chapter 3

Gally x OFC

Warnings: A little bit of mature language, but nothing too extreme.

It’s an odd feeling. Knowing that I’m the only girl. Knowing that no matter what I do, I’ll always be an outsider inside these walls. The boys try so hard to make things better, and I love them for it, but sometimes it’s just not enough. I pray every month for another girl to appear out of the box, so maybe I won’t feel so alone, and every month I’m disappointed.

I have to get out of here. But I’m terrified of leaving him behind, and I know he’ll refuse to leave.

A/N: Enjoy the Chapter Friends! As always constructive criticism is welcome! Hope everyone’s having a good day!

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Previous Chapter

Day 7

I once again spent most of my time actively avoiding most of the gladers. It was probably because I was still mad about what went down at the meeting, but it was also due to the fact that even with our new rules in place, I still didn't trust them, and they didn't trust me either.

Zart and Newt, were the exception, however. I had been assigned to help Zart in the gardens and he was... he was pretty okay. He was friendly and he made me feel comfortable enough to have conversations with him. I had found out in our time together that among all the boys he was the most recent to arrive before myself.

Newt had been elected second in command, but always seemed to find himself with us, planting seeds and watering the ground. He told Zart and I it was because he felt the most useful with us. His limp made it more difficult to be a builder. I liked Newt. He didn't talk as much as Zart, but his charm and easygoing attitude made him easy to work with.

The only thing I knew for sure though, was planting crops was certainly better than working with that stupid shank, Gally. He had both Mikey and Bach slaving away on the new homestead, while he disappeared into the woods every morning. So much for everyone doing their part, I thought to myself as I kneeled in the dirt, pulling weeds out of the ground, watching Bach and Mikey struggle to carry lumber across the Glade.

Zart had spent most of that morning trying to get Newt and me to laugh; cracking jokes and throwing dirt around. Newt had enjoyed his antics, and often thew dirt back at him, meanwhile I tried really hard to keep a straight face, but every now and then he would catch the side of my mouth slide upward.

"There's that smile," Zart said proudly. "You think I can't get it out of you, but I can." In jest, I thew one of my old gardening gloves at him.

"Alright you two," Newt said carrying a bucket of fertilizer over to us with a grin on his face. "Back to work!"

"We are working," Zart defended. "That lead builder of yours on the other hand..."

"Where is Gally, anyway?" Newt asked. "I haven't seen him all morning. Come to think of it, I didn't see him most of the morning yesterday either."

"Who knows," I mumbled. Honestly, I hadn't really cared.

"Hey, hey!" Mikey's voice rang in my ears. "What's everybody doing over here?"

"Our jobs," Zart replied playfully as Mikey approached us. "You know, the thing you should probably be doing."

"I'm just taking a break," Mikey defended himself. "Gally's got us working overtime. Meanwhile, he gets to sneak off and do whatever he wants."

Zart snickered , "He's probably jer-" Zart took one look at me and stopped himself before finishing his sentence.

"What?" I asked as I watched the two other boys giggle to them selves.

His face had gone pale, and he swiftly went back to laying down new soil. "Nothing. Never mind. Get back to work." I could still see him chuckling to himself.

"Okay..."

Mikey coughed before asking, "What about you, Greenie?" His devilish smirk appeared on his face. I hated that smirk. "How's the farming business?"

"It's fine," I asserted trying really hard to get back to my work. I could feel his eyes boring into me like I was the food he's been deprived of the last few months.

"You look pretty thirsty," he said pulling out his canteen. "Here, take my water."

"I'm good, thanks."

"I could give you a hand, if you want."

"I'm fine, really." There was that devilish smirk still plastered all over his face. My body tensed as I kept trying to figure out what he was doing. Oh, no, I thought. Flirting? Was this flirting? If it was, I was pretty sure I didn't like it.

I looked over at Newt and Zart who were now no longer paying attention to Mikey, but had refocused on their own work. He was about to pester me again, but thankfully, someone interrupted us.

"Mikey," it was Alby, who appeared not too far away from where we stood. "Get back to work."

"Whatever you say fearless leader," Mikey winked at me before he strode off. I rolled my eyes and stood up.

"Jo, could you do me a favor."

I nodded, brushing the dirt of my pants. "Sure."

"I'll take over for you here," he said. "Just go find Gally for me. I swear, that shank has been getting to work later and later everyday."

My heart fell into the pit of my stomach. Avoiding Gally had been my number one priority the last few days. And I had done a pretty good job so far. I hadn't spoken to him at all since that night at the bonfire. The only interactions we had was when I caught him staring at me from across the Glade. I could never tell if he was just angry about what happened, or maybe it was just an overall utter disdain.

I honestly wasn't sure if I was ready to face Gally again. But Alby had asked, and even if I was still a little mad at Alby, he was still technically my superior. I also figured it wouldn't take that much interaction. I'd find Gally, yell at him to go see Alby- from a far, and then make my way back to the gardens.

"Sure thing, Alby," I sighed.

I marched my way into the woods, feeling the dirt and soil sticking to the bottom of my shoes and hearing the twigs crack and the leaves crumple as I stepped on them. It hadn't taken me long to find him. He was picking up broken logs and dead wood along the wall of the maze. He was far enough away that he hadn't noticed me, but close enough that I could have called out to him. And that had been my plan, to just shout it out and then walk away. Unfortunately, my curiosity got the better of me. If he hadn't been at work all morning that meant, that wood couldn't have been for the homestead.

I followed him a few paces behind and we stopped at a large crack, maybe even big enough to be considered a small cave that resided in the Maze's wall. I watched as Gally plopped his wood down on the ground. Two walls had been built around the crack, and what appeared to be the makings of a door and a roof were leaning up against the wall of the maze.

"What are you doing?" The words slipped out of my mouth.

Gally jumped. "What the hell, Greenie? You couldn't worn a guy when you're gonna pop up so you don't scare him half to death."

I thought about apologizing, but opted not to. "What is this?" I asked.

"Well, it was supposed to be a surprise," he snapped. He lifted his arm and brushed his fingers right through his hair letting out a deep and frustrated sigh.

"A surprise?"

He took a second to breathe in what had just happened, wrapping his arms around himself, almost like he was trying to close himself off to me, but couldn't. "More like an apology," he confessed. "To you." I raised my eyebrows and stared at him blankly. "Things can be pretty overwhelming when you first get here. Most of us have been here so long, we forget that. I also don't think we recognized how much worse it would be for you. So..." He moved toward the structure and looked inward at the hole in the wall. "I figured you might want some privacy, and this is where I always come to be alone, so..."his voice trailed off again.

I simply stood in awe. "You did all this in five days?"

"I don't sleep much," he shrugged. "I don't even know what time it is. If your up I guess that means..."

"Mikey and Bach have been waiting for you for the last three hours. Alby sent me to come find you." Gally nodded in understanding. I watched as he began gathering his tools together, but I didn't dare offer to help him. I still kept my distance because although he had told me why he was building the hut, he still hadn't apologized, not really.

"How did you know how to do all this?" I asked.

He shrugged again. "I just sort of knew, I guess." Something clicked in him in that moment. I wasn't sure what it was, but I could see the gears turning in his head. "I should probably head back I guess." He swung his satchel of tools over his back.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" When I asked him this, he looked down as if perhaps he had dropped one of his supplies, but it eventually dawned on him, that that's not what I had been talking about.

He breathed in. "I'm sorry." His body was rigid, almost as if he didn't feel comfortable in his own skin, and yet there was something genuine and soft about the sound of his voice. "We shouldn't have- I shouldn't have cut you down like that, even if I didn't agree with you."

"So you'll talk to Alby?" I pushed.

"I already did. He said the vote had to be unanimous and that there was no point when the vote would still be split."

I nodded in disappointment. "He won't even let me make my case."

"Jo," his voice could have easily come off abrasive in this moment, but he chose a kinder tone. "No matter what you say, Alby and I are still gonna vote against you." His hands moved to his pockets. I watched as he brushed his left foot back in forth in the dirt. "You know why I can't."

"Yeah." I could have taken the opportunity to ask again about the boy he saw go into the maze, but I couldn't, not when he was this vulnerable. "It's just- I don't know if I can stay here and ignore whatever's going on out there."

"You know, if you were any other dumb greenie, I'd tell you to go anyway. I'd let you leave and I'd tell you never to come back."

"That's a little hypocritical don't you think?" I asked crossing my arms over my chest.

"That is one hundred percent a possibility, yes."

"Don't use my own words against me," I snapped.

He took a step closer to me, just enough to make my body tense up. "Look, Alby is trying to make this place a home for us. Is that really such a bad thing?"

I supposed it wasn't. After all, we'd been put there for a reason. Maybe Gally was right. Maybe it was to keep us safe. My gut told me that wasn't true, but my mind wanted to believe it so badly and looking at the boy in front of me, and thinking of the others back in the glade, I had to ask myself, was this place that I had found myself in really all that bad? Was it really worth risking my life to leave?

"Come on," Gally said. "We have a pit stop to make before I catch up with Alby."

"Is this about my initiation?" I asked.

He smirked in confirmation, "Let's go Greenie."

Gally led me to the other side of the Glade, waving at Alby as we passed him from afar. Alby nodded at him, in approval, his face squinting through the sun in his face.

"Wow," I breathed out as we stopped in front of another part of the maze's wall. Two thick groups of vines grew up the side maybe seven feet in width from each other. Between the sprouting vines were ten names carved into stone. Six were clear.

ALBY

MIKEY

ZART

GALLY

BACH

NEWT

Four had been crossed out.

GEORGE

WES

ANDY

GIBS

"We're a family," Gally stated. "I know it doesn't always seem like it, but we are. We want you to be a part of that too."

There he was again. His eyes falling right into mine, waiting for me to take the knife that he pulled out of his holster. He was being open and honest with me, as he had been since the very beginning. And that scared the shit out of me.

"Stop staring at me like that," I turned away from him.

His face squinted in confusion. "Like what?"

"Like that!" I snapped. "Like the way you and Mikey- Look the fact that I'm a girl is not lost on me okay? But I don't want you to look at me differently, or treat me differently because of it."

Gally was taken aback. "I don't think we were planning on it... And I don't look at you differently."

"Than why did you say if I was anyone else, you'd let me leave?"

"Fair enough," he admitted softly. "You are different. You're special."

Special. I was special? I let the word sink into me and just as it hit my heart I rejected it. "No. I'm not special. I just have a vagina. So, stop staring at me like that. "

Half of me expected him to laugh, but all I saw was the look of a boy who was trying desperately to find the right words to say. "You feel... familiar," he said quietly. "I don't know if it's your face, or your voice, or your long blonde hair, or the way your nose gets all red when you cry or, yeah, maybe it's just because your a girl. But you feel familiar. You're like this remembrance of a memory that was taken from us." He took in a deep breath. I could feel my heart rate speeding up. "There were a lot of things I hadn't thought about until you showed up. Like my mom. Or my sister. Or the girl I had a crush on."

"You have a sister?" I asked.

"I don't know," he projected almost as if he were saying, Seriously, that's what you got out of all of that? "But I could. I might."

"Gally," I moved a step closer to him, and spoke honestly. "I don't want to be a mom, or a sister, and I certainly don't want to be anyone's crush for that matter."

"I didn't mean-you listen but you never actually seem to hear what I'm saying. The only thing we want you to be is alive. And if you go out there, you'll end up like them." His eyes shifted from mine to the wall grazing his hand over George's crossed out name. I could see the pain and the grief flowing through him. "I don't want you to be like them," Gally's voice shuttered. I went to reach for his arm, but he didn't notice. He quickly shook off his vulnerability as he turned back to me holding out his knife, waiting for me to take it.

I stared at the knife for a moment, before I decided to reach out and grab it. My fingertips brushed against his palm as I went to grip the handle. It wasn't the first time we had touched but it had felt like it. Electricity moved from my hand, all the way down my spine.

As a blush creeped up my face, I could suddenly feel all the other boys looking over at us from the other side of the glade, waiting for me to make a decision. And I could see the worry written in Gally's eyes. I didn't want to let him down. I didn't want to let them down.

I needed to do this my way. My hand let go of his knife. Gally looked down in defeat as I moved my hand to my holster that sat on my hips. I pulled out my own knife, the one I had discovered on my first day. When I looked around at all the boys, I saw a new expression on all their faces. Hope. I touched the blade to the wall just underneath Gally's name, and hit the handle hard with my other hand, making a deep dent in the stone. I carved out two letters.

Next Chapter

#gally #tmr #gally xofc #the maze runner #gally x reader #tmr fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #jo #Gally x Jo #lmbys #tmr gally #will poulter

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