#mental health is not static (fortunately and unfortunately) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

marveldc-imagines-hub · 3 years

Text

Subtitles: Episode 4, We Interrupt This Program

Subtitles Masterlist

Summary: [Y/N] is still recovering from one of the worst migraines they’ve ever had and they have the scars to prove it… Wait. Those scars weren’t there before and they certainly weren’t from passing out on the sidewalk a few days prior!

Word count: 9,361

Warnings: Mentions of (not super graphic) death and mental illness. Also Reader being just a little horny on main, but what’s new; almost 9.5k words and they’re simping for most of them. Lots of dorky fluff and also talking about insecurities.

Tag list: @madamevirgo @ravennight41 @multifandomgirl16 @cyanide-mustard @badasspolygenderfriend

~~~

In the black void of otherwise dreamless sleep, voices were conversing.

“[Y/N] [L/N]…” one started.

[Y/N] [L/N]. Age twenty-five. Born to Killian and Alice [L/N] in [city, state] but Dad wasn’t in the picture. No siblings, no living relatives. They wanted to go to school for botany but Mom was diagnosed with early-onset dementia while they were still in high school, so they changed their career path to neurology in hopes of finding a way to help her. She still lives in their hometown.

“Oh, wait,” another voice chimed in, almost indistinguishable from the first, “I know this one. Oh, God.”

[Y/N] was an Honors student, at the top of all their classes. A degree in neurology with phytotoxicology on the side. They took an internship in Europe one year and somehow found themselves in Sokovia. HYDRA was still laying low at the time, caught wind of them.

“Wait,” a third voice, this one easier to differentiate from the other two. “They’re HYDRA?”

The second voice responded, “Former.”

[Y/N] had no idea what they were getting into. HYDRA, always good at hiding in the shadows; they brought [Y/N] in under the guise of an assistant job studying new forms of neural regeneration. A job that paid well enough to live comfortably and even send a little extra home, while developing something that just might solve all their mother’s problems? It was a dream come true.

Fortunately for HYDRA but unfortunately for [Y/N], they were very good at their job too. They helped HYDRA develop all kinds of nasty stuff. Nanobots that changed brain chemistry, near foolproof brainwashing tech— They even helped develop special toxins, one of the world’s deadliest poisons. All the while, thinking they were doing something good.

“How is that possible?” the original voice asked. “How could they have been so oblivious?”

“One-track mind?” the second voice offered, “Plus misinformation on HYDRA’s part and ‘routine health checks’ with something a little extra mixed in.”

“They were tested on?”

“A victim of almost everything they’d helped create, except the fatal stuff and anything that would disrupt business as usual. IVs and shots full of toxins, nanobots being released into their room while they slept.”

The third asked, “What changed?”

“Wanda.”

[Y/N] stumbled upon Wanda and her brother by pure accident. They’d been late that day and in their hurry, ran through a wrong door to where HYDRA was keeping Sokovian volunteers for testing. The twins were the youngest in their group, [Y/N] was only a couple of years older and the youngest in their division. It was a match made in heaven, really.

“Try hell,” the first voice suggested with a scoff.

The other voices offered their murmured agreements.

“So they knew each other,” the third voice said, “Before.”

That’s when [Y/N] started pulling at threads and HYDRA’s costume began to unravel; their one-track mind had switched gears. There was something too weird about the whole thing, these Sokovian civilians had stories that didn’t line up with [Y/N]’s own.

“And they believed them?”

They believed Wanda. She and her brother were just two more Sokovian citizens suffering at the hands of war and wanting to help their people. They had no reason to lie. They had more reason to be honest to [Y/N] than HYDRA ever did, actually. It was just a bonus that for Wanda and [Y/N], being around each other was like being a moth drawn to a flame.

[Y/N] may have been naive but they were far from stupid. When they figured out what was going on, they wriggled their way deeper into HYDRA’s ranks under their own disguise of loyalty. They became a full-fledged HYDRA agent, tasked with assisting in neural and poisonous weaponry. They weren’t able to protect Pietro and Wanda from testing, obviously—not that Wanda would have let them; she and her brother still believed they were being tested on for the greater good—but they did their best to stay nearby and keep the Maximoffs’ sanity intact for as long as they could. They even managed to save a couple of the other test victims by injecting them with temporary poisons that lowered their heart rate to the point of appearing dead. When the bodies were dropped off, the poison wore off not long after and some of the victims were able to escape. No side effects to be seen.

“I have a question,” Original voice said abruptly. “Why do we know this much information on one person? Like, this is some in-depth, intimate stuff. Why do we know that [Y/N] and Wanda had the hots for each other since day one?”

Second voice answered, “We’ve done extensive research on [Y/N]. The result of an investigation on the person who caused the apprehension of an entire faction of HYDRA after successfully poisoning them.”

The tests that were done on [Y/N] were not without their outcomes. They gained the ability to transform almost any matter into almost any other form.

“Huh,” Third voice hummed, “That reminds me of a series of disappearances a few years back. One house was replaced by rose bushes and another—get this—burned down because the roof had been turned to lava. Whoever it was, they either stopped on their own or died. What were they called?”

“The Alchemist,” Second stated simply, much to Third’s dismay. “And those were incognito HYDRA agents.”

After Pietro died and Wanda disappeared—not really disappeared, just left with the Avengers—[Y/N] had a choice to make. They were far too deep into HYDRA’s work now, the awful things that they had done were beginning to weigh on them, as Wanda and her brother had been just as grounding for [Y/N] as [Y/N] had been for her. After she was gone, they had a hard time dealing with the horrible business going on around them. So they did what they knew how to do; they mixed up a combination of poison and nanobots.

[Y/N] had fully committed to perishing with the rest of their coworkers but apparently, the poison hadn’t been quite strong enough. They’d made a miscalculation in a time of poor mental state and woke up the next day to hear that not all of the HYDRA agents had died either. At least the survivors had been taken in for the time being but that just wasn’t enough for them; they’d had a right to be concerned too because HYDRA had a habit of getting themselves out of sticky situations. This case was no different.

[Y/N] most likely felt responsible for having a hand in HYDRA’s dirty work, for not doing more, and they must have felt even more responsible when they learned that HYDRA was a much bigger problem than they could have ever imagined.

First blurted, “Well, what happened next?”

Second answered, “They went after agents until they got caught, the only way they knew how.”

The second miscalculation that they’d ever made got them caught. The agent put a gun to [Y/N]’s head and pulled the trigger.

“So are they dead too?” First asked. The voice seemed to quiver.

The third voice hemmed and hawed a bit before saying, “They must have, with the way all this weirdness had been going. Oh my god, poor Wanda, not one dead partner but two—”

Second spoke over the other two voices’ rambling, forcing them to calm down and listen. “They didn’t die, though, they—”

The voices started cutting out like the dream was a TV program being interfered by a poor connection and static.

“—Found by—Barely alive—Hospital—Braindead—Westview—Find a doct—”

Suddenly gunshots sounded, one followed by several more, and the darkness cracked and shattered, revealing blinding light behind it. A silhouette walked silently through the wall of light; it was Geraldine—no, Monica—poised with a gun in the outfit she helped deliver Maximoff twins in. As she walked forward, crossing from a plane of burning white to one of void black, the image of her warped and distorted until it changed. Monica, looking much more modern, in a uniform that included a bulletproof vest and a lanyard with S.W.O.R.D. printed at the top, moving carefully towards a broken and bleeding body on the ground with another in a heap behind her. The image distorted and changed again, and the first body was sitting on their knees and looking up defiant defeat. The person they were looking at was no longer Monica but a bulky figure in a dark outfit with straps in the form of an H across their chest, the body that had been laying in a battered pile behind Monica just a moment earlier. The H-adorned assailant held a still-raised gun to the kneeling person’s forehead.

[Y/N] could only spit at their feet before another gunshot sounded and the image disappeared to black.

You woke up sweating and choking on your breath. Your brain, throbbing with a pain that shot through it like a bullet, didn’t register fast enough that you were standing instead of laying down so when you flailed, you threw yourself off balance and fell forward. Catching a quick glimpse of your surroundings on your way down told you that you were somewhere outside and that it was the dead of night. You tried last minute to brace yourself for a concrete-laden impact.

You were instead greeted with soft fabric and arms wrapping tightly around you.

“Goodness, [Y/N], are you quite alright?”

You squinted at the striped sleepwear for a moment before looking up where Vision’s worried gaze and whirling irises were waiting for you; it took your eyes a moment to fully focus as the pain in your head faded but left a faint ringing behind. Then you looked around at your surroundings; not only were you outside but you were standing in Vision and Wanda’s driveway. Your gaze settled on a particular section of the house’s exterior where you vividly remembered a vaguely human shape exploding out of its walls.

You were standing in the exact same place you had been when it happened.

“[Y/N]?” Vision said again, drawing your attention back to him.

“Oh, cosmo, I’m sorry,” you said but your throat was too dry and you had to stop and clear your throat halfway through. Being in Vision’s arms, you were keenly aware of the fact that you were both in your bedwear and that yours had been sweated through. You slumped against him, partially to hide your embarrassed face but also because you felt like you hadn’t slept at all.

“Vis?”

“Yes, my favorite teacup?”

You snorted softly at that. “You don’t even drink tea.”

“Oh, I know,” Vision lilted back. Then he nuzzled his face into your hair. “I do like the patterns and the daintiness of them though.”

That time you laughed a bit. Feeling his warm breath against your scalp and his strong arms holding you safely in place against him, you almost instantly melted into the embrace. You wrapped your own arms around him and pressed your face into his chest. “What are we doing outside?”

“Ah, yes, about that. You appeared to be sleepwalking again.”

You groaned. “Again? This is a nightmare.”

One of Vision’s hands moved to run itself through your hair and down your neck. “That accident you had the other day certainly did a number on you.”

The accident. In other words, that time where you walked off in the middle of a conversation with Vision, Agnes, and Herb to mumble at a wall and then faceplant onto the sidewalk. Not only was your nose still recovering but your mind and dignity as well.

“The only time I’ve slept well since is when I fell asleep on your couch,” you whined. Then you lowered your voice and grumbled into Vision’s chest.

Vision chuckled. “What was that?”

You looked up at him and scowled. “The four of you are over here in your stupid, big, warm, cozy house. Meanwhile, I’m across the way, alone and uncomfortable, with only Bernard to keep me company. Bernard’s terrible company.”

“Truly,” Vision agreed, grinning slightly. He loved your strange, cute, not at all challenging struggles.

The both of you turned to give the lawn ornament in question a pointed look. Bernard seemed to glower back.

“Well,” Vision said as he pulled away from you a bit, “why don’t you come inside then? Wanda’s up with the babies anyway. You might as well join us, especially if it means you’ll be able to sleep better.” Not taking no for an answer, the synthezoid was already tugging you towards the lit-up porch.

You were too tired to argue and, quite frankly, you didn’t want to, so you allowed yourself to be pulled along as you admired the soft cotton of Vision’s matching pajama set.

“Oh, my.”

“What?” You looked at Vision’s face again only to catch him staring at a spot above your eyes. The porch light glinted off the gem embedded in his own. “What, do I have something on my face?”

“No,” Vision responded slowly, “but you must have done something to it. You have quite the scar.”

Your eyebrows raised. You moved away from him to look at your reflection in one of the windows and surely enough, you had a raised scar on your forehead, near your hairline. You gingerly pressed your fingers against it; it certainly wasn’t new.

A seemingly random thought popped into your head. Is that… a scar from a bullet?

“What on earth did you do to yourself?” Vision asked. Him walking up to stand directly behind you and press his hands to your neck, under the collar of your shirt no less, was more than a little distracting. “You’ve got one back here too.”

You reached back to where Vision was touching and when he removed his fingers, you could feel a similar scar at the base of your neck.

You thought again, Bullet… exit wound…?

Something about the dream you were having earlier called out to you but you couldn’t remember anything about it. When you tried to think about it further, the excruciating pain came back in waves and you had to steady yourself on the windowsill to prevent yourself from collapsing.

“Huh,” you said instead, “I have no idea.”

“They don’t hurt?” Vision questioned. “They’re not just… odd raised bruises perhaps? Welts maybe?”

“No, I don’t think so. They don’t hurt at all, though.” To make a point, you pressed down hard on the raised scar on your forehead, watched the skin turn a few shades lighter before releasing the pressure and dropping your hand again. Under the thick, stiff tissue, you barely felt the pressure at all.

Vision thoughtfully hummed, placing his hands back on the curves of your neck; you prayed to whatever deities existed that you didn’t make any sounds you’d regret.

“Well,” your partner said, “I suppose that’s better than nothing.”

A pause. Your eyes stayed trained on the window’s reflection, specifically where you could see Vision’s fingers gently cupping your neck.

Then he abruptly leaned down and pressed a kiss on the scar tissue, missing a pulse point by a hair. “We should head inside then.”

You had to take a solid minute to recover from the shockwave of tingles that briefly made your veins turn into lightning. Then you shuffled after Vision into the ever so inviting house.

Stepping out of chilly darkness and into a home of cozy furniture and warm light that turned the entire place a golden brown felt like walking into another world. An extra added layer of comfort to the usually perfect home was the slight disarray of baby equipment almost everywhere that wasn’t the floor itself, most of which you had gone out and bought during the babies’ day of birth and all of which Vision and Wanda appreciated; somehow, you had prepared for the babies’ accelerated growing on a panicked whim better than the Maximoffs. Tiny baby blankets and stuffed animals were strewn about and each visible part of the house—the living room, the dining area, and the kitchen, although the kitchen was partially blocked off by a drying rack of baby clothes and swaddles of various patterns and sizes—had a designated Baby Tray. These trays, perched on whatever flat surface had been previously free of decor or clutter, held bottles, nonperishable treats, diaper-changing equipment, teething toys, a mini first aid kit for each, and other useful trinkets; the new parents had apparently completely forgotten that almost all their house’s rooms were openly attached to each other and that, if one singular Baby Tray was designated to the dining area, it would take the same amount of about five steps to get to it from either the living area or the kitchen. It was almost comedic, the number of baby care items that were laying anywhere but the floor or in proper storage because, according to Vision, god forbid something gets a speck of dust on it and have to be washed or, according to Wanda, one of the babies be without their favorite toys easily accessible at every given moment. The only thing allowed to touch the ground, aside from feet, was a playpen that now replaced the usual coffee table in the living room area and a play mat in the babies’ room with its attached toys for the twins to play with. A final touch to the hominess was the soft light that you could see streaming out of the baby room’s open door, and the gentle voice of Wanda, singing a Sokovian lullaby, fluttering out of it.

It felt like coming home.

Vision stepped away from your side to clean up somewhat, picking up a few toys and folding baby blankets and onesies to move them aside in case you wanted to make yourself comfortable on the couch. Standing inside now, you could much better make out Vision’s dark blue terry robe over a pair of bright yellow pajama pants that no doubt had a shirt to match hidden beneath dark blue fabric. The yellow of his pants matched the yellow gem that was embedded in his forehead, glittering with an unused power that you had yet to experience and that felt warm whenever you went to place a kiss on it. Poking out from the hems of his robe and pants were perfectly human hands and feet, despite their deep red color that matched the rest of his body; you found the continued presence of fingernails when not in his human disguise—absolutely unnecessary to his design, he’d pointed out when you initially asked about them—weirdly cute and continuously felt the urge to grab nail polish and paint them to match either the color of the gem or the same silver as the plating that started at his scalp and trailed down beneath the collar of his shirt. You briefly wondered how far that plating traveled across his body before mentally kicking yourself.

The greatest thing about this still-fresh reveal of Vision’s inhuman identity—aside from the fact that he was no longer hiding something important from you, obviously—was that you now knew that he wasn’t just difficult to make blush but rather he quite literally couldn’t blush. You wondered what else he could and couldn’t do, only to mentally kick yourself again.

I can’t tell if I’ve gotten worse or better since I’ve started dating them, you thought.

Oh, your brain responded on its own accord, so much worse.

Shhh!

Vision was still puttering why while you stared and inwardly argued with yourself. At this point, he’d cleaned up most of the chaos and moved the stuffed animals and now-folded blankies to sit neatly on the dining area table.

“Vis,” you said.

Before you could continue, the man perked up and looked in your direction. “Yes, duck?”

You blinked. “You make my heart go rainbow-colored. Anyway—” You broke off into a laugh when Vision went flustered, his hands flapping about while he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. “Did I win this round?”

Sometimes Vision got into the habit of ending all of his sentences around you and Wanda with a pet name. When you had first noticed this feat, you’d decided to start doing the same, just to see what would happen. He noticed and began purposely doing it back, where he had previously done it unintentionally, and now doing the occasional back-and-forth conversation that ended in pet names more than punctuation was somewhat of a competition between you two.

Vision scoffed at you, picked up a plushie, and tossed it at you. “Not fair!”

Being in the house that was beginning to feel more like home than your own, around your partners and their sweet baby boys, seemed to shield and reenergize you from the exhaustion you felt after first waking up that night. You caught the stuffed animal, a plushie of a wizard, grinned and tossed it back at him.

“Oh,” Vision chirped, catching the plush wizard again, “I see how it is.” He puffed out his chest and gave you a warning, albeit amused, glare, then picked up a couple more plushes. In a lower, sort of growling voice that made your heart leap out of your chest and into your stomach, he continued, “If it’s a war you want, it’s a war you shall get.”

You yelped as he started in your direction and dived across the front of the couch to get some stuffed animal ammo of your own. He nailed you in the foot with a cream-colored bunny and you returned the favor with a plushie of a witch in a red dress after taking cover behind the playpen. Now each of you was standing where the other had previously been, with you poking your head over the playpen’s sheer wall and Vision slowly pacing around the back of the couch for his second lap. You pulled the playpen with you with one hand as you moved away from him and the two of you began circling each other.

Oh, if Wanda could see her partners now.

“Oh, Wanda—” you started to stand, only to get smacked in the face with a blue teddy bear; luckily, it was of the very soft variety. You stared at Vision in disbelief.

Vision stared back, eyes bulging, unsure of whether he should apologize or prepare for an attack. He was too torn to do either, though, and had to scramble back to avoid an onslaught of stuffed bullets flying his way.

Still aware that it was very late at night, your war-cry was softened, “Revenge!”

Then your attack quickly diminished, partially because you were running out of ammo and Vision wasn’t throwing anything back and partially because Vision was now floating off the ground and heading towards you, arms full of said ammo.

Wow, didn’t know it did that, you thought randomly, eyes fixed Vision floating in general, before specifically fixating on the devilish grin he wore while doing so. He looked like a very handsome, well, vision.

A handsome Vision, if you will, your brain offered. You almost snorted before remembering you had not yet moved to avoid Vision’s floating plushie attack. You stumbled backward and scrambled out of the living room just as Vision started throwing.

“No no no no no nonononono—” You were choking between laughter and squawking as you got up and began running down the hallway to save yourself. “Not fair, not fair not fair, not fair—!”

You ran past the baby room and caught Wanda mid-turnaround, saying, “What on earth is going on out there?” You reeled back to pause in the doorway, caught a glimpse of the babies in their one large crib, smiled, went to pant out an answer—

Only to feel arms wrap around you and drag you back down the hallway. You started to shriek, then forced it into a startled laugh as to not disturb the babies, and flailed around in Vision’s arms as he lifted you off the ground. It was brief, though, because then your struggling caught Vision off balance and the two you tumbled to the ground. There, you both harmlessly pummeled each other until you both were out of breath and snickering, and you somehow ended up with his top half under you but his legs pinning down your own.

“You can fly?” you bubbled. You grabbed his face and squished his cheeks in your hands. “What the hell?”

He laughed and nodded, and one of his hands caught your own. He glanced up at you as he kissed your palm and replied, “Yes, just a little.”

“Just a little—”

“And his wife can move things with her mind, like the crib she just finished rocking to put the boys back to sleep, and if she has to do it again because of her partners’ roughhousing…”

You and Vision quickly disentangled yourselves from each other and looked up at Wanda, whose face said serious but whose eyes twinkled with amusement and who looked no less terrifying in a pale pink, puff-sleeved nightgown.

You got up and straightened your clothes, with Vision following closely behind. “I will very happily take over the next shift because I started it and I’m very sorry.”

“What? Nonsense, [Y/N], I threw the first stuffed animal.”

“I threw it back,” you pointed out.

“Neither of you better have thrown and hit something,” Wanda warned.

You glanced at Vision for confirmation; you didn’t exactly see much when you were chucking plushies aplenty and then running from your flying boyfriend.

Vision nodded. “Nothing at all, although I did make the evaluation that we do have a plethora of plushies and baby blankets.”

“I thought I was the one who pointed that out when you first gave me the shopping list, but okay,” you huffed under your breath, then grinned with Vision lightly bumped you with his hip. “So, the babies having a bad night?”

“Actually, they were apparently worried about you,” Wanda said.

That made your head do a confused tilt. “Me?”

“Ah, yes,” Vision nodded, “We fell asleep with them in the living room and Billy started crying. We woke up to figure out what was wrong and Wanda saw you standing outside.”

Wanda added, “Tommy started crying shortly after I walked to the door with him like he wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Aww,” you cooed, peering over Wanda’s shoulder to see the babies. She stepped to the side so you could walk in and shuffle over to the crib, and she and Vision stood nearby as you crouched down to brush a hand over their little sleeping heads. You continued, much softer this time, “Were the boys trying to make sure I was safe? Are they my little protectors? My little superheroes?”

Tommy gurgled happily in his sleep. Billy remained quiet but his head leaned into your hand.

You looked up at their parents with big, awestruck eyes to see them leaning comfortably into each other, watching you with the same level of affection you felt for them and their babies.

“Heroes indeed,” Vision said. He walked over as you stood up again and lightly rocked the crib; Wanda strolled over to join the group. He continued to the twins in baby-talk, “But no hero-ing until after college, my little honeydews. For now, leave the protecting to your parents.”

“Especially this one,” Wanda chirped, making her way over to your side and slipping her arm around your back. “They’re a handful.”

You faked a gasp, “I’m a treasure.”

“You’re a putz,” Wanda said simply, with a smirk and a light pinch to your hip.

You gasped harder and stared at her with utter betrayal.

“A goof,” Vision chimed in. He slipped his own arm around you, the final piece of your three-person puzzle.

You gasped harder still— and almost choked on air. Then you looked to the babies. “Bullies! Bullies, both of them! Billy, Tommy, you must protect me!”

Very enthusiastically, neither baby did anything.

“I’ve been betrayed yet again,” you cried, not too loudly, though. You slumped against Vision and Wanda’s waiting arms. “Betrayed by my own brood!”

“Your brood?” Wanda questioned, quirking a brow. Vision was giggling softly at your other side.

“Yes,” you whispered, looking at her with wide, distraught eyes, “My brood. My pack. My murder.”

“Your what?” Vision said.

“It’s a group of crows,” you explained under your breath, before slumping down farther and continuing your distraught monologue. “I’m all alone! Oh, the horror—”

“Well,” Wanda said, “We’re supporting you very well a family that has completely abandoned you.”

You flopped your head back in her direction. You were so far to the ground now that you were practically on your knees, only your arms and shoulders being held by Wanda and Vision. You traced fingers lamely across each of their arms. “So strong, those who once held me…”

The married couple exchanged an amused but mysterious look.

“Wanda, darling,” Vision said, “They seem to have gone delusional.”

Wanda nodded sagely in response. “Clearly lost their mind.”

You squinted, glancing between them. What were they up to?

“To the ward with you,” Wanda suddenly announced.

Then you caught a red glow by your feet, but not fast enough before you were swept up into the air on a cloud of red mist. You burst into startled laughter but quickly slapped a hand over your mouth so you didn’t wake up the children. Once you relaxed—enough to stop laughing anyway, not enough to not be freaking out about being magically escorted out of the nursery—you waved your hands through the red; it felt like waving your hands through the open air. The only thing actually felt was the pressure on the back of your body that was holding you afloat and carrying you out of the room, but when you tried to balance on it and move to a different position, all you did was squirm and twist awkwardly in the air before flopping back down. You craned your neck, mostly to make sure Tommy and Billy hadn’t woken up from your outburst, but you only caught Wanda, hands glowing red, following you out of the room and Vision trailing after wishing his babies a goodnight.

You looked back at the ceiling for a moment. After you heard the nursery door shut, you asked at a normal volume, “I’m not gonna fall, right?”

“Not unless I let you,” Wanda reassured you. You couldn’t see her but the teasing tone of her voice made you imagine her with a smirk. A smirk, narrowed eyes, her pretty nightgown floating around her, magical powers that she could definitely use to crush you if she wanted to and you’d probably thank her if she did.

Wow, okay, I either need to confess my sins or go to sleep.

“Why?” Wanda asked suddenly.

“Why what?” you choked back, heat rushing to your face. Surely, she couldn’t read your thoughts…

“Why ask if you would fall?”

Oh.

“Oh.” You started flopping around in the cloud of magic, testing the proverbial waters; you were being taken to the living area now. You heard both Wanda and her husband laughing from beneath and behind you when you settled again.

Vision asked through chuckling, “What could you possibly be doing?”

You suddenly flung yourself to one of the magic surrounding you, thinking maybe you would fall through, but the magic held. You huffed and laid back again but not before you caught a glimpse of the couch that you now hovered over. You grasped at the magic again, watching it wisp through your fingers but feeling nothing at all. “This is so cool.”

Wanda’s voice was softer when she spoke this time. “You think?”

You couldn’t hold back the disbelieving laughter that bubbled up. Suddenly breathless out of sheer excitement of learning more about the people you cared for most, you sighed, “Wanda, baby, you must know that you’re amazing.”

Then you squawked as the magic suddenly disappeared around you, but instead of falling straight to the couch below, Vision flew up to catch you. He held you bridal style as he gently dropped back to his feet next to the couch, grinning—he very rarely just smiled, it was always a big, happy grin when it was directed at you or Wanda or the babies—and giving you a peck on the forehead when you stared up at him, doe-eyed.

“Got my own Superman, too,” you said, “Damn.”

Vision plopped you down on the couch. “Who?”

“Comic book character,” you responded with a wave of your hand, “Doesn’t matter. You’re far better looking than him anyway.”

You shifted a bit to get more comfortable and watched as glowing red magic started swirling all around you. The magic was misty, red around the edges and glowing orange-white in the center, picking up the scattered toys from your and Vision’s scuffle and tossing them into the playpen, pulling said playpen out of the way and sliding the original coffee table back from its place against the wall, picking up any other stray blankets or baby items and placing them neatly out of the way; it also straightened out Vision’s robe and ruffled your hair. Part of the magic moved out of your line of vision, so you twisted to follow it and saw it taking the baby clothes off the drying rack to fold and put on the counter next to it, then continued watching as it folded the rack itself and moved it out of the way.

Wanda was now in your sight again too; she was standing still, palms up with magic flowing outward from the red clouds around them, and looking around to see if there was anything else she needed to put away. She was also blushing, from you calling her baby or saying she’s amazing, you couldn’t tell. After staring for probably way too long, probably looking at her with the same starry-eyed, dopey look that a teenager had at their first concert or after a first kiss, her gaze flitted to yours and made a nose-scrunching face at you before finishing her magical cleanup and making her way over to the couch as well.

You slumped back in the pile of throw pillows behind you, covered your face with your hands, and flutter-kicked your feet few times. “This is so cool!”

You felt a nudge at your feet and you raised your legs so he could sit, then did the same with your head when you felt Wanda’s hand brush across your forehead. When they were both seated, you laid your legs and head on their respective laps and the three of you settled into the comfortable position that had been adopted long after your relationship had started.

That is until you quickly sat up again. “Is that how you unpacked your house so quickly?”

Wanda smiled and nodded. She rested a cheek in the palm of her hand, endeared by your wonderment towards her powers.

“Is that you unpacked my house?”

Another nod.

“And the magic show was real— Wait.” You scowled. “But all the pulleys and stuff.”

“That was, ah, my bad,” Vision offered with a raised hand.

“Covering for him actually using his powers,” Wanda explained.

“I knew the mirrors didn’t make sense with you putting your hat through your body!” you exclaimed. “So flight, super strong, and… not sure what to call that last one. What was with you that day, by the way? You acted drunk, but you can’t get drunk!”

“I swallowed some gum,” Vision muttered, glancing away and rubbing the side of his neck. His other hand waved towards his torso as he continued, “It got all… stuck. Gummed up my gears, if you will.”

Wanda rolled her eyes at the pun. You snickered at it.

“I had to magic it out of him,” she added.

Your gaze flitted back and forth between your two superhuman partners multiple times as you took in the information. Because you were sitting between the two, this involved the turning of your head various times, which made your head swim a bit. You almost wished that they were both sitting to one side of you.

Instead of suggesting this, you settled your gaze to stare aimlessly ahead and said simply, “I’m dating two of the weirdest, coolest, most stellar people in the world. How the hell did I manage that?”

“Charisma,” Vision offered, even though you and him both knew at this point how you’d weirdly creeped on him at the office the first day the two of you met.

“Sheer force of will,” Wanda suggested, but you guaranteed she was remembering how, for the few dates you went on with them, you’d had to be reminded that you were actually on dates and that they weren’t just casual friendly hangouts.

You looked between them once more and then you wished you had suggested they sit to one side of you. Despite their steady, comfortable voices, Wanda was in the process of hiding her flustered face behind the curtain of her hair and Vision was chewing on his lip and couldn’t seem to keep his hands and feet from tapping away.

“Okay,” you said after a moment, patting your thighs to do something with your hands. “I’m grasping that you guys don’t agree with me here. Wanda, go sit by him so I don’t get whiplash from trying to look at you both.”

You and Wanda quickly switched places. You sat cross-legged on the couch to face them and Wanda and Vision shifted around to sit in a way that allowed them to face you without one blocking the other. After a moment, you waved your hands at them; the cheery air has since faded into something more somber. “What is it? Tell me why you get all quiet like that when I tell you, with evidence, why you’re the actual grooviest people I’ve ever met.”

There were a few more moments of silence before Vision went to speak first, which surprised Wanda. She looked at him, eyebrows raised high on her forehead, and lightly grasped his wrist.

“Vis?” she murmured.

He sighed softly and placed his other hand over hers. “Oh, it’s really nothing dear, I promise. It’s just… Well, you’ve heard how the people of the cul-de-sac talk about us sometimes.”

“Mean girls,” you grumbled under your breath with a nod, “the lot of them sometimes.”

Wanda seemed to suddenly sag with sadness and both you and Vision reached over quickly to hold her.

“Oh, darling,” Vision said, “It’s not your fault—”

“That’s not true,” Wanda whispered.

“It is true,” Vision said, and this time he said it with a fierceness that was familiar to you, whenever Wanda was being treated poorly by people like the Queen of the Cul-de-Sac, Dotty, or when Wanda decided to get down on herself. He grasped her shoulders tightly, squeezed them until she looked up at him. “Wanda, darling, love, I didn’t exist before I meant you. I mean, I did, of course, I did, but I was just this strange, non-human, non-machine thing that was just… kind of… there. It was you that gave me an existence, Wanda. You made me human.”

Both you and Wanda stared at him, surprised. Wanda stared because she obviously didn’t fully agree with his opinion of her. You stared because of course, you were dating two of the weirdest, coolest, most stellar, and most romantic people ever.

Get yourself a man like that, you thought. Then after a moment, Wait, that is in fact also my man.

“And you—” Vision said, turning his head in your direction.

“Oh, I’m next?” you stammered. “I thought it was Wanda’s turn.”

Vision still held Wanda but also reached over to tightly grasp your hand and bring it to his mouth. “I just wished we could have confessed to you sooner. I just hate, hate, hated lying to you and now you’re involved with all this too—”

The synthezoid with the English accent looked up at you with eyes begging forgiveness as if he’d committed one of the worst sins imaginable. You let out a hoarse laugh and ran your thumb across the side of his hand.

“I’m sorry,” you said, still chuckling as you wriggled closer to your couple, “but as much as you might like to think you’ve subjected me to something I didn’t sign up for, I’d like to point out that I’ve been about a month ahead of you. I was here before you.” You felt a nagging urge to look at Wanda and repeat the last sentence, and there was something extra special about saying it that second time like there was a double and then a triple meaning behind it, but the way you both furrowed your brows afterward made it clear that neither of you really knew what those meanings were.

Not yet, anyway.

You cleared your throat and removed your hand from Vision’s grasp to place it on the back of the couch. “I moved into this town with no husband or wife, no family, nothing but a pile of letters and a new deed to a new house that happened to be the smallest in the neighborhood. My first week here I told one man in front of the entire night watch that I thought the joke he made about his wife was distasteful, and then the week after I tripped and spilled wine all over his wife. Agnes brought because she thought I’d be a form of entertainment and we somehow ended up becoming friends over a flask that she hid in a pocket sewed into the inside of her skirt.” You offered a look to Wanda again while you mentioned that Agnes never thought your “for the children” jokes were all that funny, though. “I’ve dealt with the comments and the rumors and the ‘what’s wrong with them, they don’t have no kids!’ People are weird and they’re mean and they’re fun and they suck. You want human, dude? You got it. If I was still bothered by comments that are nothing but a bummer, I think I’d be trying a little bit more than wearing clothes that I enjoy over the clothes that are expected of me, telling Dotty she needs to stop being awful before she gets frown lines, or, you know, pining over two people—a married couple nonetheless—until I somehow seduced them with my staring at them from around corners and just generally horrible, awful attempts at eye contact.”

The married couple in question chortled at that.

You used your hand on the back of the couch to hoist yourself up on your knees so you towered over Vision just slightly.

“Here’s the thing, sunshine,” you continued, “I’m not in your boat on this one, you dorks, you’re in mine. I was here first and I don’t give a fuck.”

Wanda gave a sudden laugh. “What language.”

“Has he not told you about the time I said ‘Fuck you’ to a plastic bird in my garden?” you asked. “Multiple times? His name is Bernard and he’s plotting to kill me, I swear.”

Wanda’s troubled expression was split by a wobbly smile.

You threw up your arms in the dramatic fashion that you knew the two people in front of you loved and hollered—then quickly quieted back down to not disturb Billy and Tommy in the other room—“All this for my rambling putz ass to say, who cares about what’s outside this house! You two, and your kids, and I are the only people that matter here. Here being the house, Westview, whatever! Everyone else? Nonexistent.

“Also, just to clarify,” you paused to wave your arms around, gesturing at the entire house, “Love it here. Love this shit.”

You suddenly caught Vision’s slacked jaw in your hand and gave him a peck on the cheek. “This face? Love it.” You moved to peck a spot of silver on his skull. “Love this too.” You pecked the gem on his forehead and swore it glowed brighter in response. “Love this.” You pecked one of his ear plates. “Love these goofy things.” You pecked the tip of his nose. “Love this and the fact that you have it even though you don’t technically even need to breathe. Oh, speaking of which!”

You lifted one of his hands with one of your own and tapped on his red fingernails with your other. You caught a glimpse of his face now that yours wasn’t directly in front of it and noticed him trying to hold back a giddy smile—and failing—while he watched you from underneath red lashes; your whole body would have tried to twist itself in knots under that look if you weren’t too busy swearing to kiss those eyelids and lashes too, at another time. Instead, you pecked each fingertip of the hand you were holding. “Love these ‘useless to my design’ things too. You know what, just speaking of hands—” You dropped Vision’s hand, which made itself to your waist as you went to grab Wanda’s; you were vaguely aware that you were practically leaning into their laps at that point but that could be dealt with when you weren’t trying to make a point.

When you went to touch her, she let you hold her wrist but quickly squeezed her hand into firsts before you could hold it like you had with Vision’s. She was looking away.

You pressed a kiss to her whitening knuckles. “Wanda.”

She looked at you, her perfect face distorted by a deep sadness that almost shattered your heart on the spot. She tightened her first further. The deep emotion appeared to make her slip back into her natural Sokovian accent when she spoke again. “You don’t know the pain it’s caused.”

“I’ve done my fair share,” you affirmed even though you weren’t quite sure why. Then you kissed her knuckles again. “And maybe I don’t, but I know what good it’s caused, that you have.”

Her face twisted into an ugly grimace. She asked hoarsely, “Like what?”

“The first time I saw your face, I wanted to go to space, grab the moon, shrink it down—so it looked like one of those cool little lava rocks, you know? But prettier—and get it put on a ring,” you offered, then kissed the back of her hand and whispered, “and that’s after I found out you were married to a very attractive man too…”

Vision snorted. Wanda cracked the smallest of smiles.

You whispered lower, “And I may or may not have even been interested in marriage before that…”

That time Wanda rolled her eyes; you smiled and grabbed her other clenched hand to share the attention with. You continued, “You’re also so nice, like so nice. You are so kind and care about what people think so much, it’s almost buggy—and bordering on self-destructive but that’s not what we’re talking about— And I sort of get it now, you know, but wow, making your magic show worse for the sake of people’s sanity? Wouldn’t even be on my radar.”

Another little smile.

“I’d be like, ‘Who wants to see me turn this entire table into a rosebush! Dotty’s rosebush specifically; Dotty, I stole your rosebush.’ I actually did steal a rose from her bush that day.”

Wanda blinked and you noticed the lines of her expression weren’t as deeply etched into her face anymore.

“That was Dotty’s?”

You grinned and nodded, then kissed both of her hands. “Also, I love your hair and the way it perfectly frames your perfect face, and I love your little nose scrunches, and I love your eyelashes and the way you look at me from under them sometimes, and I’d kiss all those things but I’m not going to because I gotta get these stubborn, always-working, never-wanna-take-a-break, always-somehow-perfect-nails-having hands to relax before they hurt themselves even though it’s very clearly hard enough to make who woman who owns them do the same. Oh, I did I mention that smile—hoo, Wanda, that foxy smile…”

Wanda was blushing now and bringing up her smile made it happen again, just slightly. You took advantage of the moment anyway and flung yourself back onto the couch with a hand over your heart. “Be still, my pounding heart!”

Vision, who was watching by your and Wanda’s sides, laughed a bit. Wanda herself rolled her eyes again; the smile didn’t disappear afterward.

You sat up again and pointed at Vision, now that he’d brought attention to himself again. “And I don’t know whether you heard any of the stuff this guy said! You made him exist? You made him human? What? You two also do this thing where you just look at each other and have a whole conversation, I don’t know if you guys know you do that or not. You do, though, and I don’t know if either or both of you are psychic but if you are and still love me? With my unhinged brain? Migraines and all? I wouldn’t understand, even if you explained it to me.”

Vision offered, “Neither of us is psychic but anyway, please continue.”

“Have anything to add?”

“You’re doing wonderfully.”

“Thank you.” You looked back and Wanda, noting that her face had almost completely softened now, as she was too busy being flustered to be sad at this point. You quickly scooped her hands before they could curl into fists again placed kissed on each of the crescent moon-shaped marks now dug into their palms. “Your magic rocked your babies to sleep. Your magic cleaned up all their and put it all in one nice, neat place. You floated me around the house with your magic and even protected me from falling when I was wriggling around up there; bet that was fun for both of you to watch. Vision said earlier that that was your job, to protect me, and while I don’t fully agree because I consider it the other way around, is that not what you did?”

“I thought it was cute,” Wanda replied softly to the second to last sentence you said. She watched as you gave her hands a few more pecks.

“So, you agree then,” you said, “that your magic protected me and also made me cuter?”

She laughed and the sound made your heart soared, performing an aerial performance in your chest. She tried to wriggle her hands free from you but then you scowled and tucked them protectively under your chin.

“Gotta say it. Gotta say your magic made me cute.”

“I’m not saying that.”

You shrugged and got comfy, laying your head in her lap with her hands still hidden. “Have to. Otherwise, no hands for you. Oh, did I not mention how good you are to your kids yet? You’re so good—”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Wanda forfeited through a wet laugh. Hearing said laugh, your head shot up in concern, but the woman was smiling as she snagged your hands back; what she chose to do with them next was grab your face and place a kiss directly on your mouth.

It was quick and soft and sweet and absolutely none of that prevented the fireworks that went off in your skull and your chest and your stomach and your veins that made tingles shoot all the way down to your toes. She pulled away as quickly as she had moved in and you blinked; your brain was still short-circuiting, like a robot—like a Vision with his gears all gummed up, and your dazed brain thought that was a very funny connection, so it repeated the joke verbally.

Luckily, Vision was close enough to the level of dork that you were and he laughed at it with you.

It took a deep breath and a head shake to de-gum your brain—if only Wanda could magic that—but after the excitement wore off, you felt sleepiness start creeping in and decided to make your final push. You curled a hand around both of your partners’ necks and brought their faces closer to nuzzle your noses together; they responded by each of them wrapping an arm around your waist and returning the affectionate action.

“So, in conclusion,” you stated, which caused Vision to laugh lightly and Wanda to grin just slightly, “I love both of these perfect faces.” You kissed each of their noses. “And these funky, magical brains.” You kissed Wanda at the base of her hairline, then Vision just below his forehead gem. “And these equally funky, magical hands.” You grabbed the hands not looped around your waist and kissed the back of them. “And both of those babies, and this house, and y—”

You sucked in a sudden breath to stop yourself so hard that you almost choked and you reeled back to the other side of the couch only to drag Vision and Wanda with you. The three of you tumbled into a flustered heap on the couch and over their shoulders, you could see early morning light filtering through the windows. This barely registered, though, as you were too busy focusing on the fact that you almost L-worded them on a silly, tired whim.

Despite the awkwardness of the moment and the unspoken words, no one made a move to remove themselves from the warm, cozy entanglement. One of both Wanda and Vision’s arms was pinned under your back, keeping them solid in place against you while simultaneously and successfully enveloping you in between them; your own arms, which had instinctively wrapped protectively around their shoulders in the tumble, kept them in a similar state. Wanda’s hair fanned found and covered the three of you like a blanket, and you were keenly aware of her breath softly wafting over the exposed skin of your neck from where her head now rested on your shoulder. Vision’s rested slightly lower, on your chest, and you felt a quickened pulse where his gem pressed into your neck, but you couldn’t be sure whether it was yours or his.

You stared past their shoulders and watched as sunlight shone through the curtains and dappled the ceiling. You tried to figure out whether you were stupider for stopping yourself from finishing that sentence or for not saying it at all.

Then you felt a kiss being pressed to your clothed shoulder.

“You’ve said so many things that you’ve loved tonight [Y/N],” Wanda murmured, her hot breath causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. “What’s two more?”

“I—” you started, then bit your tongue again. There was something about saying that phrase that made you worried; you felt like if you said it now, the happy little world you lived in would begin to crumble, like it would all end far too soon. You sighed softly and said instead, “I don’t know how I would live without you.”

There were a few moments of silence where you watched more sunlight filter in and wished you could take it back because what a way to talk a big game and then not follow through—

Then Vision’s head appeared above you and he pressed a dizziness-inducing kiss to your lips. When he pulled away, he nuzzled your nose with his own as he murmured, “I love you too.”

In almost the same moment, Wanda was mumbling the same phrase against your jawline.

Sleepy and hazy-brained you couldn’t do much else but stare at Vision like a lovesick puppy that struggled to say that L-word, then snuggle back down with both him and Wanda when they relaxed against you again. That seemed to be the last of what needed to be said, though, because everything was cozy and warm and golden brown in your home again and, one by one, the three of you fell into a deep, comfortable sleep.

In the black void of otherwise dreamless sleep, you heard the vaguely familiar First Voice finish chewing something and then go, “Aww…”

192 notes · View notes

emfharmonized · 2 years

Text

How to Protect Yourself from Computer EMF

Computer EMFs are waves emitted by laptops, tablets, and other wireless devices that can cause damage to your body. These waves can weaken your immune system, disrupt healthy sleep patterns, and lead to memory problems. Unfortunately, the power of these waves is often underestimated because they're invisible. It's hard to know how much exposure you have to computer EMFs unless you measure it with an EMF detector. Find out how to protect yourself from EMFs on our blog!

What are EMFs?

EMFs are waves that are emitted by electronic devices like laptops, tablets, and wireless routers. These waves can interfere with healthy sleep patterns, weaken your immune system, and lead to memory problems. EMFs make up the electromagnetic spectrum of radiation which includes visible light, microwaves, infra-red waves (IR), and radio waves. EMFs are invisible but the power of these waves is often underestimated.

The Health Effects of EMFs

If you're reading this, then you probably spend a lot of time on the computer. And that's great! The internet is a powerful tool for research, communication, or even just watching funny videos on YouTube. However, too much exposure to computer EMFs can be harmful to your health. EMFs are waves emitted by laptops, tablets, and other wireless devices that can cause damage to your body. These waves can weaken your immune system, disrupt healthy sleep patterns, and lead to memory problems. You may not be able to see it with the naked eye, but they exist nonetheless. This is why it's important for you to measure these waves with an EMF detector. So what are the health effects of EMFs? For starters, they can disrupt your circadian rhythm and make it difficult for you to fall asleep at night. This lack of sleep in turn will impair your mental function and leave you feeling tired throughout the day. Furthermore, studies have shown that EMFs from laptops could increase cancer risk by 66% because these waves have been linked with increased levels of oxidative stress in our cells.

How to Protect Yourself from Computer EMFs

Luckily, you can protect yourself from computer EMFs by following a few simple steps. 1. The first step is to measure your EMF exposure. This will allow you to know how often you're being exposed to harmful waves and if they're affecting you in any way. To measure your EMF exposure, you'll need an EMF detector. There are a lot of different detectors on the market, but our favorite is the TriField Natural EMF Meter which we reviewed in this post. The TriField detects static magnetic fields, electric currents, and changes in electromagnetic fields to give a visual reading of the EMFs present in your environment.

2. Use emf protection for computers by EMF Harmonized that will block emf radiation.

3. The second step is to reduce your exposure time and distance from computer devices that emit high levels of EMFs before bedtime. Even if your device isn't on or near you while sleeping at night, there's still a chance that it will emit these harmful waves when it sleeps next to you all day long. By placing your laptop on the floor away from your bed while sleeping or turning off mobile devices during sleep time, for example, you can avoid some of the damaging effects caused by computer EMFs. 4. The last step is to use less wireless technology overall so that you don't expose yourself to these waves too frequently. For example, instead of using WiFi while working on assignments for school or work at home, try using an Ethernet cable plugged into the back of your laptop or desktop computer instead (you can find an adapter cord here). Conclusion Computer EMFs are invisible electrically-charged fields that can surround your computer monitor, laptop, cell phone, and other wireless devices. They exist in even the most protected of environments. Fortunately, you can take specific steps to limit your exposure to EMFs by choosing the right equipment, setting your devices to be less sensitive, and using protective screens.This blog post has provided information on the health effects of EMFs and how to protect yourself from them.

#emf protection #emf #emfdevices

0 notes

jimlingss · 7 years

Text

His Name [4]

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 Words: 7k Genre: Angst, Multiple Personality!Au Summary: Jeon Jungkook is a puzzle with too many missing pieces from his past and too many sides. Somehow, it’s become your job to solve him. → Inspired by the Korean Drama - Kill Me Heal Me Warnings: Topics of mental health. Mentions of death, suicide and medical disorders. Disclaimer: Although this piece of work required lots of in-depth research and was attempted to be as accurate as possible, at the end of the day, I am not a psychologist and this is fanfiction. Specific things may be altered or exaggerated for story-telling purposes. Please take all medical terminologies and procedures with a grain of salt.

Cr.

His grin has never been bigger.

And it’s contagious, making you smile wide into the apples of your cheeks.

Parchment lines the plush grass, the warm sun embraces your form. Your hair is tied back, the sparse front strands are clumped together in colours, stains streaking across your forehead. But you don’t pay any mind, not when your hands are covered in paint and the brush is held between your fingers.

Every time you steal a glance from the boy, the tip of his tongue sticks past the seam of his lips and his eyes are trained concentratedly on his canvas. “Don’t look.” He mutters quietly, noticing your stare but not looking up from his artwork.

You let a laugh slip. “What? Are you painting me?”

“No.” He sharply quips in embarrassment. “Just don’t look...until I’m done.”

“Alright.” You add a few finishing touches to your own artwork, deciding to splatter some vibrant yellow in the middle. That’s when a thought suddenly strikes you. “Hey, Jungkook.”

“Hmm?”

“I want your handprint in my painting.” You dip your brush into the cobalt colour before swiping it on your hand. Jungkook frowns, getting up to kneel beside you.

“Woah.”

“Hey!” You defensively motion to your canvas. “It’s abstract art.”

At first, you tried really hard to make everything perfect. You were planning some sort of landscape artwork but after half an hour of work, you became tired and just decided to go with the flow. It felt much better after you doused the front with black paint and splashed on white, going based on feelings without thinking much of the consequences. It was a nice change for once.

You grab Jungkook’s hand, swirling a new brush into the periwinkle purple shade. He stares at you startled but begins to relax when the brush hairs are tickling against his skin and your touch is firm around his wrist. “There. Now stamp it wherever.”

You press your hand quickly in the middle of the top right corner, lifting it after three second but Jungkook takes more time in his bottom left corner, looking at you in skepticism.

“It’s perfect!” You announce, lifting up your artwork to the sunshine. Jungkook grins, shaking his head and that’s when you notice his cheek is smeared with pink. “You have something right there.”

“Where?” He rubs his apron on his face but fails to wipe it off. You bring up your finger, your skin still wet with paint, marking him blue. “Hey!”

“It’s gone.” You mischievously giggle, staring at your fingerprint on his face. He pouts before reaching over with his hand and taking vengeance - dabbing paint onto your forehead. You laugh, flinching away and nearly making the bottles spill over. “Okay, okay! Truce.”

“No truce.” He retorts, wiping more onto your chin this time. A shout leaves your mouth as you grab onto his arm with both your hands, trying to not fall over onto your canvas. He cries out loud as his skin is tainted, the outlines of your palms and fingers twisting around his forearm. “OKAY! Fine! Truce!”

Jungkook crawls over to his canvas, faking a glare at you as you laugh and he returns to finishing up.

By the time the both of you are completely done and it’s been left to dry for a few hours, you hang both paintings up in his living room. “Move it to the right a little bit.”

“There?”

“A little bit more.” You shoot out your hands as he tilts it. “Stop! Right there!”

The two of you take one full step back, gazing at your paintings. Yours is abstract art, black background with splashes of white and yellow, two handprints printed on the canvas. Jungkook’s artistic talent bleeds into his. It’s a sunset over the horizon, a strong tree taking the attention but what strikes you the most is the black silhouette of a boy under the branches.

“Who is it?”

Jungkook stays silent, twelve heartbeats that pass before he responds in a murmur.

“I don’t know.”

He adds on- “I just...felt compelled to, I guess. I know that sounds a bit weird.”

“No it doesn’t.” You shake your head. “You’re really gifted Jungkook. I’m surprised how good you are.”

He shys away, “It’s really nothing. It was surprisingly fun though.”

“I’m glad it was. Do you remember ever doing something similar with your mother?”

“I do. We painted together back then. A lot of times. She taught me how to hold brushes and the types of paint to use...” He reminisces while still staring at the white walls now filled with vivid pigment.

“That’s good.” You nod. “Doesn’t the room look a lot better now?”

He agrees with a laugh. “I’ve always hated how white it was. The interior designer’s tastes weren’t mine. I should’ve done something sooner but I never bothered.”

You linger, still transfixed at Jungkook’s art. It looks peaceful and serene but you get a sense of melancholy. “What time did you go to bed last night?” You turn when he stutters out the question. “Uhhh...I mean...I’m not trying to be creepy. You can do whatever you want, you’re free in this house but I was going to get some water and I noticed the lights still on in your room….”

Truth be told, you weren’t taking care of yourself well lately. You were up reading some material on his disorder and you hadn’t realized how much time had passed until dawn light trickled into the room. “I’m fine.” You reassure him, stifling a yawn to the back of your throat. “I’m more of a late owl anyways. You don’t have to worry about me, Jungkook. Thank you though.”

He nods, watching your backside as you walk off to wash your hands at the sink. Jungkook turns back to your painting, his and your prints marring the darkness in vibrant colours.

Jungkook having finished a business call, walks off to the fridge to satisfy his grumbling stomach. But he’s met with fluorescent lights that bounce off the empty drawers and shelves. With a defeated sigh, he stands straight and looks around for you. He wonders where you are….maybe you’d like to go grab a bite with him - though, he’s not sure he has the audacity to ask you.

You’re outside on the grass. Your phone sandwiched between your shoulder and your ear, watering can in your hand as you tend to the planter box. “Who are you living with?”

“Did you finally find someone?!” Your mother’s voice rings through the other line. “Oh my! When are you going to bring him home so I can meet him?”

Your mother has always been intrusive, prying into every detail of your life but she’s your only family member left. Ever since you came back, you still hadn’t driven down the countryside to visit yet. You felt guilty that you hadn’t even had time to call her recently. But fortunately or unfortunately, you didn’t need to be the one who called; she called. She called you multiple times until your phone blew up and you had no choice to answer.

You sigh in exasperation, “Mom. It’s nothing like that.”

“What do you mean? You’re living with another person, are you not?” She interrogates with traces of doubt. “Is he handsome?”

You swallow hard, “He’s just a patient.”

There’s a long sigh over the quiet static. “Is it still about Seonho?”

Upon hearing his name, something lodges inside your throat and you freeze. You try to make your voice firm but it comes out strangled and weak. “Mom.”

“Y/N, dear, that was years ago. You need to move on and I know that’s what he wants for you. You can’t just keep being hung up on hi-”

“I’ll call you again some time, okay?” You interject. “Remember to eat and exercise. Lock the doors. Just because you know everyone in that town doesn’t mean that there won’t be burglars.”

“Y/N-”

“I’ll talk to you soon. Bye.” You hang up the phone, inhaling a huge staggering breath. Your eyes sting but you ignore them, focusing on finishing the task at hand before returning inside.

Little did you know that Jungkook was around the corner, still inside the house but the glass doors are open wide; he’s heard every word. He withdraws back, not meaning to eavesdrop but now your words spin around his head, sharp without intention.

He’s just a patient.

There’s one room in his house that is oddly unoccupied.

Granted, his entire house for a single male bachelor is an unnecessarily large living space but all the rooms are used by Jungkook. It’s easy to tell with doors or windows open, small messes scattered about or things left on the table. But in one room, the door is always closed, the window never opened. The walls are white like the rest but a thin layer of dust coats the floor.

There’s nothing inside but a baby grand piano lying in the center.

“I didn’t know you played piano.” You step up to the instrument, pressing a key down to hear a melodic note erupt in the air.

“I don’t.”

“You don’t?”

He’s leaning against the door, hands in his pockets as he watches you. “I..I don’t know why I bought it or put it in here. I never even wanted to learn how to play.” He takes a step closer and closer, now eyeing the musical instrument. “I honestly don’t know. I just...bought it.”

“Can you play?”

“A little bit.” You admit with a smile, remembering your childhood years.

Seonho’s mother was a piano teacher and she forced her son to learn how to play. He used to complain about it all day, climbing to your room from the window and hiding in your house to avoid the lessons. Though you’ve never been particularly interested yourself, there were more than a few times where you sat beside him and learnt. When you came over to his house, his mother did teach you a bit until he dragged you away. You were by no means a pianist but you had quite a bit of the basics down.

“Can…” Jungkook scratches the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Can you play for me?”

“I can try. I might be a little bit rusty though.” You pull up the sleeves of your sweater. The both of you plop down side by side on the bench together. “It’s been a long time.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond, waiting patiently with his hands in his lap. You inhale the air, trying to remember the notes. And when you begin to press down on the keys, it comes back to you.

Swan Lake Theme; a piece that you remember Seonho agonizing over but his mother played it so beautifully that you made an effort to memorize it. It’s rough at the beginning, missed notes and wrong keys but after a few seconds, the melody becomes smooth again. You try your hardest, hands stretched across the piano as the familiar tune weaves itself around the air and wraps around your body.

Jungkook glances at your profile before staring down at your hands. His body is pressed next to yours, shoulders rubbing against each other and it’s oddly….familiar.

smaller but rougher hands

obsidian hair that matched the keys

a frown of concentration

The boy smiles at Jungkook, stealing a peek from him before returning back to the rhythm. His cheeks are rounded, lips upturned as his foot presses against the pedal. Jungkook can’t make out the boy’s eyes, the colour of his orbs, the details of his features. But the boy is important to him, that much Jungkook knows. The boy is so entirely important that his mind is screaming at him to remember - his heart constricts in his chest - tears threaten to mark his face.

The boy takes one more glance at Jungkook. “What do you think?”

“Who are you?” He murmurs and you look at him, confused by his question. Jungkook’s eyes flash over and he’s no longer the person you know.

You continue and his hands join you at the keyboard. “Don’t stop.” The husky voice comforts your surprise when you realize, it’s the nameless man.

He plays alongside you, even lifting his hands over yours for the higher notes. He’s by far more talented than you are, as if having years of experience, as if his entire childhood was comprised of playing. Your fingers are in rhythm with each other, four hands gliding along the ivory and ebony keys. The man joins the melody with ease, adding a whole new layer to the piece, making it unrecognizable and into something even better. Somehow he aids the tempo to a slower pace, transforming it into a somber and sorrowful expression. He pushes down on the pedal, a slight echo of the strings, melting all the notes together. The rich yet soft vibrations floats like clouds, the piano having a pulse of its own. He plays with raw emotion, the sadness seeping into your body and flooding the once empty room.

The nameless man raises his head, the corners of his mouth tugging up at you. You return the smile, adrenaline pulsing through your veins as you continue. Though there’s something in his eyes, something tender that tells you he’s been desperate to do this. And now he’s beside you; the both of you together and it’s surreal, like a pleasant dream.

But all dreams must end.

“Thank you.”

The song finishes and the piano strings reverberates against the white walls.

You turn to him with a grin, ready to pour your feelings of astonishment out. He simply blinks at you once, blankly before frowning. “What happened?”

“J-Jungkook?”

You don’t know why disappointment swallows you whole.

“I blacked out for a second.” His head drops into his hands and he rubs his temples with his thumbs. “Ugh..I can’t...what-”

Your comforting hand falls onto his shoulder and you squeeze gently. “It’s okay. Nothing happened. I guess one of your alters just wanted to listen.” You exhale lightly, swallowing hard. “He played with me.”

Jungkook looks up at you past his lashes. “He...played the piano with you?”

“I guess one of them knows how to play.” You laugh quietly, standing onto your feet. “It’s late. You should head off to bed.”

When you leave the room behind Jungkook, your eyes linger a moment at the empty bench. You’re trapped in a reverie, transfixed by the overwhelming emotions that made you awestruck.

Just who was he?

Meanwhile, Jungkook is laid in bed, staring at the ceiling and unable to close his eyes. There’s one thought that curses him, your voice that rings over and over again in his eardrums. It haunts him like a ghost, a tail stuck to wherever he runs and whatever he does, tormenting him and making him wish for the Grim Reaper’s simple kiss.

He’s just a patient. He’s just a patient. He’s just a patient. He’s just a patient. He’s just a patient.

He’s just a patient. He’s just a patient.

Jungkook grows distant.

He plunges himself in his work, eating meals alone and says little to nothing. You haven’t addressed any issues he may have, pre-occupied in your own work. You’ve researched a way that might help him uncover the memories - that’s what’s most important after all.

“Jungkook. Let’s go back to your earliest memory. You’ve told me that it was when you were with your grandfather in the backyard.”

He nods, head downcasted with his eyes closed. “That’s right.”

“You lived with your grandparents, why?” You already knew the answer but you were easing him back into that time period.

“My father made me live with them after my mother died.”

“Do you have nightmares? How often?”

“Often. But I don’t know if I would call them that.”

Jungkook’s hands are clasped together in his lap and you’re hunched over, eyes glued to his face to watch every flicker of emotion. “What do you remember about your mother’s death? Describe it in as much detail as you can.”

He sharply inhales, tilting his head a bit as he pries into his memories. “I’m in a room, her casket is in the front with a picture of her in a frame. I’m in black clothes and lots of people are….crying.” Jungkook speaks slowly with hesitance. “My father is greeting some people and..somebody’s sitting beside me...somebody. I can’t remember who.”

“What are your nightmares about?”

“A boy. But I can’t see his face.”

“How’s your relationship with your stepmother? And have you ever been sexually abused?”

“I don’t have one. And no.”

“How’s your relationship with your father?”

He frowns at your question, his blank expression finally being shattered. “It’s not good.”

Uncovering repressed memories had potentially very dangerous implications. There was always a risk that patients could fabricate and believe in false memories. You had to word each question carefully and not lead or imply that anything might’ve happened to him. It was important to understand that any memory he spoke about could also be distorted. The procedure you were using was risky and had to be taken with caution.

“Were you ever verbally abused? What does the boy look like? Can you tell me anything about him?”

“Yes. And he has black hair, he’s a child but...I feel like he’s older than I am. He smiles a lot at me. I can never see his eyes.”

“Did you or do you ever resent your father for marrying another woman after your mother died? Were you ever physically abused?” You ask him both questions, observing the way his breathing deepens.

“Yes and I...don’t know.”

“Have you ever asked your father about your childhood or your past?”

“No. We don’t talk to each other.”

You inhale one breath. “Why do you think your father might resent you?”

“I disappoint him. I’m not the son he wanted.” His breathing stutters, chest heaving. “Maybe I remind him of my mother.”

“Who do you think the boy is?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

“How did you feel when your father told you that you were getting shipped off to boarding school?”

He answers without missing a beat. “Happy.”

“Why?”

“Because I could finally escape him.” His lips fall into a straight line, the knot alleviating between his brows.

“Why did you want to escape him?”

“Because he hurt me.”

Jungkook’s vision flashes, his heart palpitates and he winces. His entire face contorts and twists with pain. He can see a vague silhouette at the top of a staircase, the incandescent light beaming down and blinding his eyes. All around him is darkness, emptiness and no one is there. Fear overwhelms his shaking body that is significantly smaller, like a child’s. He is crying, terror-stricken at the menacing silhouette looming above him. “Don’t h-hit m...e. It wasn’t...wasn’t my fault. I promise. I’m s-s..or...ry. I’m-...sorr..y. Dad. I’m so sorry.”

It bursts all around him, images and scenes that last less than a millisecond. It’s a film on a projector, fuzzy and blurred. All the colours are muted, sepia or black and white. He can barely grasp what is happening before it shifts again. The surroundings melt, lost memories that he cannot make out.

Darkness. Darkness. Darkness.

A moving van. Bumps in the road that make him jump.

His hands are tied together. His eyes are bounded by a blindfold.

Fear forces his body to shake.

Something shuffles beside him, hands that gently grab his. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

It switches and his eyes are blinded by a flashlight, the beam directly in his face, burning to the back of his eyelids. He is silent, mouth open and unable to scream. The boy has fallen in front of him, eyes that Jungkook cannot see. But the boy smiles, mouthing something he cannot hear and- BANG!

“Jungkook! Jungkook!” You call him again and again in panic, hands wrapped securely around his shoulders. “Can you hear me?”

His chest billows but he finally looks at you, orbs connecting to yours. Dread makes him pale and he looks around desperately, as if someone will come through the door and harm him. “Jungkook. Jungkook. You’re here with me. We’re both inside your house, inside the office. No one else is here. No one is going to come in.” You reassure him in a calm voice, bringing him back to reality.

“Y-Y/N?” His hand wraps around your arms as he searches your face.

You tell him the date and time as he nods slowly. “We’re inside your home. No one else is here. It’s just me and you.” In your arms and embrace, his breath steadies. His anxiety begins to wither away as he has a sense of what’s happening.

“It hurts.”

“I know. But you’re okay now. Right now, you’re okay.”

After a full five minutes of silence, Jungkook’s heart rate and state returns normally. He pulls off your arms and gently nudges you farther away. When you try to read his expression, he downcasts his head, letting his sweaty bangs cover his eyes. “If you get too close to me-” he murmurs in a soft exhale. “-I’ll misinterpret your actions.”

“Jungkook. I’m your psychologist. Your therapist.” You remind him in your usual composed and collected tone. “I’m here to help you.”

He nods and you’re unsure of what he truly feels. “I know.”

The office is quiet aside from the tapping of fingers to keyboards, fax machines and the photocopier spitting out endless stacks of paper. The walls are taupe but empty. Even with the sunlight entering through the windows, it somehow feels dark.

“Mr. Jeon would like to speak to you now.” The secretary opens the door, motioning inside.

You nod, gathering your things and walking into the office. She closes the door behind you and you’re met face to face with Jungkook’s father. He’s seated behind his desk, hands clasped together and scrutinizing you with cold eyes. He doesn’t move, letting his pupils flicker to each of your movements.

You take a seat across from him, masking your unease with a blank expression that matches his.

“Good afternoon, Miss Y/N. I’d like to cut to the chase, skip all the formalities and small talk.”

“Great.” You cross your legs, relaxing into the cushion chair. “Why did you call me today?”

“How’s my son doing?”

“Fine. The therapy is going very well and he’s making a lot of progress.”

“How much longer will it take? When will he be sane again?”

You clear your throat. “Sir. Your son has always been sane and the time is depending. I can’t say for sure but it will require more time.”

He ignores you, sitting back. “I need you to hurry this process up. There’s things that need to be done. I can’t have him sitting at home all day doing whatever he wants to do.”

It sounds horrendous in your ears. It twists your guts and you’re appalled at how unbelievable it is - for his own father not to believe in his disorder. He is medically diagnosed with Identity Dissociative Disorder and his father still thinks he’s lying. You suddenly have an urge to go off, educating the ignorant man but from his contemptuous personality, you know you’ll be thrown out of his office in less than five seconds.

You bite your tongue for now.

“It might not be my place but…” You have no right and no position to interrogate his father. It’s not your job but sitting across from him, you can’t stop your blood from boiling. Your suspicions are at an all time high. “Have you ever laid a hand on your son?”

Mr. Jeon remains impassive, simply narrowing his eyes on you. “Did he say something about me?”

“Unfortunately, I cannot disclose nor share the details of our sessions.” You retort, glaring back at him with the same level of intensity. “Have you?” He doesn’t answer. “Why do you think your son has the condition that he has?”

“It’s not your business.” He snaps. “Just do your damn job.”

Jungkook’s father clicks a button on his office telephone. “Jen. Get in here. I’m done speaking to her.”

You’re forced to stand up and leave, never once straying your eyes away from the older man. The door closes and the secretary politely asks you to leave. You comply, taking the elevator down to the first floor and walking off to the parking lot. But before you’re about to drive back home, your phone rings.

“Hello?”

“Miss Y/N.” Mr. Jinkey’s voice sounds breathless, heaving slightly with panic. “There’s been an emergency.”

“What’s wrong?” You put the key into the ignition immediately. “Hello?”

The next words make your heart stammer, your phone nearly falling out of your weak hand.

“Jungkook….he was rushed into the hospital.”

The hospital walls are all familiar, each corner that you’ve turned hundreds of times but as you run straight ahead without stopping, everything is a blur. Your mind is plagued with the worst possible thoughts and scenarios, emotions in overdrive and tears pricking your eyes. You can’t help condemning yourself for leaving him alone - when this is the time he needs somebody by his side the most.

Within the next moments, your hand wraps around the silver handle and you slide the door open. “Jun-Jungkook?!” You’re gasping for oxygen.

He turns in his bed, seated upright and he gives you a huge smile. He throws off the blanket and tries to stand up, perhaps run to you. You immediately close the door, walking to him and stopping him before he can hurt himself. “What-what happened?!”

“Jungkookie fell from the stairs~” He chimes out, exaggerating his downturned lips. “He sprained his ankle.”

“Wait.” You fall into the chair next to the bed, mind failing to wrap around the situation. “You’re...who-?”

“Nice to meet you!” He giggles sheepishly. “I’m Hobi. Jung Hoseok. Jung. Hoseok. Jung~ Hoseok~”

You try your best to mimic his smile though it’s still strained. “Nice to meet you Hoseok. I’m-”

“-Y/N! Yeah, I know.” He cocks his head to one side. “Anyways….what was I saying? Jungkook got an ouchie so I took a cab to the hospital. I know he’s a big CEO so I didn’t call the ambulance and I tried my best to be sneaky. I talked to one of the nurses at the desk and they bandaged me up!” He lifts up his left foot, showing off the white bandages wrapped around the ankle. He grins at you innocently. “How did I do, Y/N?”

“You...you did very well, Hoseok.” You praise him and he gloats. Hoseok blinks once before turning his head, the back facing you. After a moment of no movement, he turns around and you give him a confused expression. He sighs before taking your hand from your lap and lifting it onto his hair. Finally understanding what he wants, you run your fingers through his black locks and he settles down with a content smile.

Your racing heart began to slow down and you realized that you had never spoken to this alter before. Jung Hoseok, his name rings a bell. It takes a second for you to remember that he’s the alter that you most likely saw after Jin shattered the plate. “Is it okay if I ask you a few questions, Hoseok?”

He hums slowly in response. “Hmm. Okay.”

You stop petting his hair, arm dropping to your side and he opens his eyes to look at you. His orbs twinkle, awaiting for you to speak. “How old are you?”

“Fourteen.” He grins, leaning against the upright mattress. “I’m the youngest of the bunch butttt I still feel older than Jin. Don’t tell him I said that though.”

You smile, finally being able to ease. “And what do you like, Hoseok?”

He considers the possibilities while staring up at the ceiling. “I like dancing. I like playing. I like hugs. I like cute Jiminnie. I like Jungkook too. And…” He looks back at you. “I like you.”

You scoff lightly with a smile. “What do you hate?”

This time he answers with no pause, expression falling blank. “I hate snakes. I hate roller coasters. I hate bugs. I hate ghosts. I hate spirits. I hate heights. I hate spiders.”

You stifle back a laugh. “That’s a lot of things. It’s okay. I hate spiders too.” Hoseok pouts slightly, perhaps acting cutesy to gain your affections. You can’t help but let the corners of your lips raise. “And Hoseok, how do you help Jungkook?”

“Every time Jungkook gets hurt, I appear and help him.” He announces proudly, a smile still on his lips.

Then his face grows grim. Hoseok’s voice becomes serious, no longer jesting or in a humorous tone. You can feel a shift in the mood as he calls your name-

“Y/N.”

“Hmm?”

“I know you’re trying to help Jungkook and I want to help him too - so I’ll help you. I know we’ve just met but I trust you. I have a feeling you’re the only person left who can help him. So, listen to me carefully.”

“I’m listening.”

He puts his hand on top of yours, becoming quieter as if sharing a deep secret. “I don’t know if you know this but the first times we’ve appeared was when Jungkook was in boarding school. I’m the second person that showed up...when Jungkook tried to commit suicide for the first time.”

“When he..tried to-”

He nods. “I’ve saved him countless times. Time and again. Do you know why I’m here, Y/N? Do you truly want to know how I help Jungkook?” Hoseok withdraws his hand, gathering his knees together as he looks out the window. “Somewhere in the back of his mind, he doesn’t want to die. I am the creation of that very thought.”

Hoseok has been Jungkook’s lifeline.

“Jungkook doesn’t want to die. He doesn’t want that.” The boy repeats. “It’s not until recently that that thought has finally reached the surface. It’s no longer lingering back there.” He smiles sorrowfully, “Sooner or later, he won’t need me anymore.”

Meeting his orbs once more, the melancholy it holds is almost tangible in your hands. “Promise me that...one day, if I can’t appear and protect him, you will.” Despite the upbeat and dynamic character that Hoseok is, you’re beginning to understand how there’s a whole layer of depth to him. He is patient and serious but sincere and sensitive. “Can you promise me that, Y/N?”

Jungkook won’t be your responsibility forever. There will be a time when he’s cured and will move on in his life. You’ll have countless more patients, working day in and day out. There’s no obligation to make any promises but somehow you want to. You want to promise him, you want to stay by Jungkook’s side.

“I promise.”

Hoseok gives you a lopsided smile, ecstatic as he wraps his pinky around yours and your thumbs press. He even reaches over to squeeze you in a hug and you sharply inhale before laughing, being smothered to death. “Hoseok. If you were the second person to appear...who was the first?”

“It’s a secret~” He says cutely, pulling away and doting you with his eyes. As if being aware that you’ll continue to press on, he shrugs. “Dunno.”

He looks away and you scrunch your face up, accusatively pointing at him. “You do know, don’t you?” Hoseok wears a guilty expression. “Why are you lying to me?”

“I’m not lyingggg…” He pouts.

“You are!”

Before you can interrogate the boy and coax him to spill, he suddenly becomes motionless. His face wipes of emotion, legs falling straight out in front of him and his arms to his side. He blinks once, twice then scans the room.

“Where am I?” Jungkook searches the premise, trembling in his hospital gown until he meets your pupils. “Y/N?”

“Jungkook?” He nods. “Everything’s okay. You just hurt your ankle. One of your alters brought you to the hospital.” You tell him as he soaks in all your words. You exhale a staggering breath, remembering how shaken you were by the whole ordeal. Your forehead falls into your hands. “I was so worried. I thought something had happened to you, Jungkook.”

“I’m sorry.” He hesitantly outstretches his hand. His entire arm quivers, questioning if the movement would be too intimate but he bites back his doubts. Eventually it falls to the top of your head and he gently brushes your strands with his thumb. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I’m okay and you don’t need to apologize.” You lift your head and he smiles. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine. Not bad. The mattress is kind of hard.”

You narrow your eyes at his complaint. “Of all things….”

“Yes. It’s a terrible strain on my back, really. I think I would feel a lot better if you rubbed my feet for me. What do you say, Y/N?”

A tiny scoff and a laugh, rolling your eyes in the process; you bark out a stern ‘no’. He laughs with you, some of the tension finally alleviating.

After a minute of no sound, Jungkook speaks up. “I’ve been thinking Y/N. I’ve been thinking a lot in the past few days. And...I want to heal. It hurts living like this. I want to understand what’s going on in my life. More now than ever.”

You nod, acknowledging his new found determination. You have new goals in mind - building a sense of control and recovering the memories to piece together what exactly happened in his past. Those memories will be the key to understanding the underlying issues of his disorder.

Jungkook agrees with you, driven to find out why he can’t remember.

“Y/N?” He says your name, stopping you from opening the door.

He had pleaded with you to leave the hospital. Watching his expression as he scanned the room told you that he didn’t like it one bit. The atmosphere made him feel sicker than he actually was and he felt world’s more comfortable in his own home.

“One day. One day when I’m better. When I don’t have this disorder anymore. When I’m not your patient-” He hesitates, shyly gazing at you as he swallows hard and bites the bottom of his lip. “Can we go out on a date?”

“A date?” You tilt your head to the side with a frown. “What about Inhye?”

He shakes his head. “I’m not saying that it has to be a romantic one….just...a date.”

“A date..” You repeat his words in a murmur. “Yeah..okay. One day, Jungkook. One day.”

He nods, a tiny smile on his lips as he looks down at the ground. The blush blooming on his cheeks is the last image you see before the door is shut closed. Despite the joy he feels, turmoil sews inside your chest. You’re treading and balancing on a very thin line, like a tightrope acrobat. There are boundaries that you must never forget.

When you return to the room five minutes later, it’s empty.

You step up to the table where a sticky note lies. The message is written roughly with a pen, the signature obnoxiously big with massive loops in the letters. ‘See you later! -Kim Taehyung’

It takes heartbeats for you to dash out the room to the front desk but none of the nurses are aware that he’s left, much less where he’s gone. Before you can panic, you calmly think of where he could’ve gone. It’s only been five minutes so he couldn’t have walked off far by himself.

Jungkook said he disliked hospitals - his alters might feel the same way. You run out the building, telling a few nurses to check the rooftops and aware of Taehyung’s tendencies, you call Mr. Jinkey to check the nightclubs in the vicinity.

It’s horrendous to run around the blocks by yourself, aimlessly with nowhere to go but your head darting around to look for the familiar mop of hair. “Jungkook?!” Jungkook! Taehyung?!” You’re blind to the odd looks people shoot you, simply resolute to find him.

Five minutes pass.

Ten minutes pass.

Twenty minutes.

The night has fallen and draped the sky in black. The nurses called to let you know that he’s not in the building, security cameras showed how he walked outside. Mr. Jinkey tells you that he hasn’t seen Jungkook in any of the nightclubs or bars either.

The soles of your feet are burning, sore from running from street to street, describing his appearance to people and asking if they’ve seen him. You’re on the verge of a nervous breakdown at the half-hour mark, wanting to give up but still too resolved that frustration builds and builds inside your stomach. He trusts you to protect him. He trusts you to help him. He trusts you. You can’t give up! You won’t. You can’t.

It’s when you’re slowing down, looking towards the river that you recognize a familiar backside.

“Jungkook?!” You scream out his name in desperation and anger, stumbling to the figure that is still staring at the city skyline. As you come closer, your doubts are cleared when it is indeed him - his hair, his eyes, his nose and cheeks. You’ve never been happier yet so angry to see him.

“Again. Not Jungkook.” The low voice lethargically says. He steals one glance at you before taking a swig of the beer bottle. He’s unamused as you fall beside him on the stone steps, swishing the liquid around by rotating his hand. “Taehyung got this. It would be a waste to throw it out.”

“Who-who are you?” You gawk at his profile. It’s Jungkook’s face and features but at the same time, it’s a completely different person.

“Again.” He sighs, tired of having the same conversation over and over again. “It doesn’t matter who I am. You don’t need to know.”

“You’re...unbelievable.” You bring your arms close to your body, feeling cold chills run up your spine. Instead of shouting and nagging at him like you had intended, you’re still hyperventilating. Your legs are tense from having just ran and you melt into the concrete.

He’s dressed in his regular clothes. You assume that Taehyung didn’t like the hospital gown much and swapped before he made his grand escape.

The nameless man gazes at you. “Boy, you must’ve made a huge effort to look for the kid.”

“He left!” You snap back. “Well, Taehyung did. I was running around looking for you.”

“Oh. You weren’t looking for me. You were looking for this body. Or at least Jungkook.” He corrects you as he takes another sip of the beer. He chuckles, a gruff sound coming from his timber voice. “You should really stop that.”

You frown at him. “What?”

“The kid’s falling in love with you.” The man is hunched over, elbows on his thighs as he looks out at the river reflecting the lampposts’ glow. “Isn’t it obvious?”

You don’t respond, still staring at his face. “Either reject him or reciprocate. The longer you hang on, he’ll hang on and he’ll be hurt in the long run.” He continues with another exhale, a cold cloud coming from his lips and evaporating into the air. His eyes meet yours and this time, they’re not cold.

A gentle whisper leaves his lips, a plea of sorts that makes your heart stutter.

“Don’t hurt him.”

You don’t blink, fixing your orbs into the honey colour of his irises. “Who are you?”

The nameless man sighs, taking the last gulp of his bottle before it’s empty. He abandons it by his side, standing up. Without sparing you a glance, he begins to limp away, not from intoxication but his hurt ankle. You’re left staring at his backside, too transfixed to move. When you’re finally pulled back to reality, he’s meters ahead.

“Wait!” You call out into the cold night but silence answers. “Wait for me.”

The man steps out onto the crosswalk, ten seconds left on the timer. You push through the crowd, worried that you’ll lose sight of him once more. “Wait! Please!” There’s three seconds left. But you don’t wait, stepping off the pavement and onto the road.

There’s a honk in the distance, an oncoming car that cannot stop in time. There’s the screech of wheels on pavement, someone slamming on the brakes as the headlights from your peripheral vision blind your eyes. He hears your begging request linger in the air, echoing and reverberating against the moonlight. The nameless man whips his head around - his eyes grow wide at the sight of you running across the open street intersection.

Time slows.

Without hesitation, he steps off the sidewalk and back onto the road towards you.

His arm outstretches and he grabs your wrist, pulling his body flush against yours. You nearly trip but he opens his arms, letting you fall within them. Your head meets his chest and he secures his hands around your shoulders, pressing you close. The car whizzes past you; the horn thundering in your ears and your hair being whipped by the wind. It was a mere millimeter away from your clothes, from your skin and bones. The nameless man saved your life.

He didn’t even think twice.

He lets go of you in the next second, arms dropping to his sides. You’re met with terrified orbs, pupils grown full in fear. He’s gone. The nameless man is replaced by Hoseok from the fright of the experience. Hoseok abandons you, running back onto the safety of the sidewalk. He scans the surroundings to understand where he is. You’re left on the curb, swallowing hard past the lump in your throat.

You ignore the burning of your eyes.

There’s nothing you’ve ever wanted to know more.

Who is he?

#Jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #Jungkook angst #Jungkook scenario #jungkook scenarios #bts scenarios #bts scenario #bts multiple personality au #woo things are heating up!!

720 notes · View notes

lilaswordsandthings · 6 years

Text

Terminal/Chronically Ill Characters in Literature & Media (A Writer/Survivor’s Perspective)

As someone who has struggled with chronic health issues and has also lost friends and family to variations of the same condition I was born with, characters that are like me and my loved ones, and relationships similar to those I had with the people I’ve lost are something that I naturally gravitate towards and pay particular attention to. However, I find that it’s so rarely done well… so let’s talk about it.

For the structure of this post I’m going to be talking about 4 examples, two bad examples, and why they’re so flawed, and two good examples and what they got right that the others didn’t.

For some reason, writers seem to find it difficult to pull off a (main or important) character with a chronic or terminal illness, especially when that character has some kind of relationship with a character who is either healthy or somehow medically better off.

Usually, what we get are things like Me before You (I apologize right now to anyone who enjoyed that book/movie but I really didn't) or Everything, Everything by Nicola Yoon, (which I liked but I still feel like it was a bad portrayal of what I'm talking about).

Now let me fully explain why these portrayals fail epically.

In Me Before You by Jojo Moyes the character William has been severely and permanently injured and is now wheelchair bound. He also wants to die. Yes, you read that correctly, this character has literally given up to the point where he can’t wait to just end it and there is no amount of effort by those who care about him that can convince him that his life is still worth something. This is problematic for a couple of reasons but firstly because he’s a horrendous example for anyone who either has been injured that way or knows and cares about someone who has. Secondly, he’s a total 100% STATIC character. His outlook doesn’t change in this story, at all. At the beginning he wants to die, and by the end the people around him have given up trying to change his mind. I mean, I get that he’s not really the main protagonist here, Louisa, his caregiver/girlfriend is, but that actually makes it worse! Not only do we have a completely static secondary main character; but we have a defeatist protagonist who literally gives up trying to save the man she supposedly loves. What kind of thematic message was the author trying to send here? I just…can’t get over how messed up this is…

Now, as I said above I personally enjoyed Nicola Yoon’s novel Everything, Everything and its film adaptation. However, I did have issues with it in terms of this topic for several reasons.

1. Bad research. This was largely corrected in the film (or at least glossed over enough that it wasn’t really noticeable) but the Main Character Maddie’s illness, as described in the book, is not SCIDS (Severe Combined Immune Deficiency Syndrome), they tell you she has SCIDS but in terms of what they’re actually describing? It is actually presented as matching an even lesser known disorder called Mass Cell Activation Syndrome. When I first read it I tried to rationalize it as (spoiler alert) being that Maddie’s illness isn’t real and is a figment of her mentally ill mother’s mind, her mom can make up her own rules and boundaries in terms of Maddie’s condition and this was yet another subtle hint at the hidden truth. However, honestly, I don’t think the quality or accuracy of the book lends itself to Yoon pulling that off quite this well if that’s what she was going for; and it’s a shame.

2. She’s not really sick! This goes off of my last point but the fact that she turns out to have been fine this entire time cheapens all the drama and risk that came before that revelation, including her relationship with the novel’s male lead, Ollie. Which is why it’s a terrible portrayal of that kind of relationship, because the barriers and hoops they have to fight their way through to be together just *poof!” disappear. That’s not life! Since Mass Cell Activation Syndrome can appear and/or change at any moment and spontaneous recovery is at least theoretically possible, we really could have had something if Maddie had actually had the condition that was actually described in the book and you know, really had it at some point but then her mom kept it going because she’s incredibly paranoid and not right in the head. Sadly, however, no… that’s not what we got.

This lack of honest and positive representation for people with chronic illnesses, the spectrum of form and severity even a single condition can take, and the relationships between the chronically ill and those with a different health status than them, fortunately, is beginning to improve. Two of the best recent examples of this that I can think of are John Green’s novel The Fault in Our Stars, and the Manga Your Lie in April originally created by Naoshi Arakawa and brought to life on screen by A1 Pictures and the stunning voice talents of both the original Japanese and English dub voice casts.

The Fault in Our Stars by author and YouTuber John Green is a beautiful story about two friends turned lovers who find meaning, support, safety, and even hope in each other when the universe seems to be conspiring to take everything else in life away from them, because well…cancer can do that… I loved reading and watching these two interact and the best part about it is that neither is defined by the hand life has dealt them, it has profoundly affected who they are and how they see themselves and the world, as of course, it would, and it continues to throughout the novel. However, we always see this in the context of who they each are, it never becomes who they are. That balancing act of being honest about what situations like that do to people is what is missing from so many works that attempt this kind of story and this is a great example of when it’s done right. There is, however, one that I feel is even better.

Your Lie in April originally written in manga form by Naoshi Arakawa is easily my one of my favorite series of all time and is probably the best example of chronic illness/relationships. Let me explain why.

Plot Summary

For those of you who haven’t seen/read it, let me give you a ballpark idea. Kousei Arima was once a competitive pianist and child prodigy, trained, brutally, by his abusive and terminally ill mother. Once a great pianist herself, she is now weak, wheelchair-bound, and running out of time, so she brutalizes her only son mentally, emotionally, and physically in her rush to train him to play the music exactly as written, knowing that this will allow him to succeed on the competitive scene and thereby support himself after she’s gone. Soon after his mother dies Kousei suffered a breakdown under the pressure and after that day, gives up music almost entirely until he meets the beautiful and vibrant Kaori Miyazono. Who is a violinist but plays with a freedom and grace that Kousei has never seen before, and it is her constant prodding that brings him back to the stage. Kaori however, has a secret. She has been diagnosed with an unnamed terminal illness that, as the story progresses, gradually robs her of her mobility and coordination and becomes an increasingly prevalent threat to her life.

Kaori is where this story really shines in terms of our topic because her journey with her illness is among the most human and genuine portrayals of a situation anything close to hers, that I’ve ever seen. For a few reasons:

1. Kaori is more than her illness. Again, we see how her illness has affected who she is and how she sees the world and her place and purpose in it, but it is never her defining feature. We also see who she is apart from it, her love of sweets, her upbeat and freewheeling personality, and of course her obsession with music.

2. How she copes: She’s had this illness for most of her life but the gravity of her situation doesn’t really sink in until she’s thirteen or fourteen and catches her parents crying in the hospital waiting room. To quote the Anime: “That’s when I realized I didn’t have much time.” And the moment she realizes this, she hits the ground running, determined to make the absolute most of every minute she has left, so that she can die with as few regrets as possible.

She doesn’t run from her illness, she keeps it from her friends until it becomes obvious for their sake, she fully accepts the reality of her situation and does what she can to make the best of it. This includes wanting to do something good for someone that’s going to matter, in the form of dragging Kousei out of his emotional funk.

That said, she’s not an angel by any means. She doesn’t suffer in silence the entire time, there are moments even before her friends find out that we see the cracks in her façade. We see her cry, and lament, and break down, and towards the end even start to give up. Even then though, unlike in Me Before You she doesn’t give up to the extent that she’s unreachable, all it takes is a kick in the pants (not literally) from Kousei and she renews her will to fight and go on as long as she possibly can. To quote the anime again: “Maybe I’m just greedy, but I want to dream again.”

3. The Ending: In the end of course, Kaori dies, the show takes a no holds barred realistic approach to the situation, there’s no miracle cure, there’s no misdiagnosis, nothing to save our heroes from the inevitable tragedy that will tear them apart. Unfortunately, as I know all too well, such is life. In life sometimes there are no magic answers, no way to save the day, only the harsh reality to swallow. The fact that this series was willing to attest to that, just makes it all the better.

4. Kaori X Kousei: Over the course of the story we see Kaori and the progression of her illness mainly through Kousei’s eyes and the tumult of emotions he goes through in reaction to it is not only realistic but beautifully done. At first, he notices little things here and there, her collapsing after their duet, how thin she is, the more obvious her illness becomes the more apprehension he feels at the possibility of losing yet another person he’s come to know and love. At one point, he even avoids her for a time, unsure of what to say or do, which while not the most admirable reaction, is a totally normal and human one.

Kaori sees him struggling emotionally and laments ever getting involved, wondering out load during one of his visits if it would be better had they never met, and giving him license after her impending death to forget all about her and forget everything they’d shared. By the end though, Kousei decides he could never do it, and chooses instead to cherish Kaori’s memory and let her continue to drive him forward in music and in life.

This last point is very, very important because this a question that everyone has to ask themselves at some point. Was it worth it? Is it better to love and to lose than to have never loved at all? What both positive examples have in common is they answer that question with a resounding YES!.

So what have we learned? We all know that one-dimensional characters are neither interesting nor realistic and should be avoided at all costs. An illness or disability does NOT warrant an exception to that rule. Or the rule about avoiding static or passive characters either. It’s nuts that we seem to somehow think it is.

#character development #writing #anime #review #writing advice #relationships #romance #media #culture

6 notes · View notes

zrtranscripts · 7 years

Text

Radio Abel, Season Two

Part 1b of 6

This section contains variations depending on whether or not you have completed S2M7, “Mummy’s Hand.”

If you HAVE completed S2M7, continue reading. If you NOT completed S2M7, read Part 1a.

Additional dialogue is indicated by italics.

[sequence of three low beeps followed by one high beep plays twice]

AUTOMATED VOICE: Iteration four zero three two.

[sequence of three low beeps]

EUGENE WOODS: You'll be able to grab it from our Rofflenet servers within the next two days.

JACK HOLDEN: So there you have it, listeners! At long last, our survivor's cookbook is ready for release. How do you feel about it, Eugene?

EUGENE WOODS: Well, it was hard work, it took me a while, but you know, I think in the end, it - [indistinct shouting] Do you think... ?

JACK HOLDEN: I'm sure it's fine.

EUGENE WOODS: This... this doesn't sound normal.

JACK HOLDEN: I meain, I'm sure it's fine!

EUGENE WOODS: I don't know! It's – it's -

JACK HOLDEN: Let me just... one second. I'll be right back. Is that smoke? Gene, you'd better come look -

[explosion]

[one high beep, followed by sequence of three low beeps and one high beep]

[sequence of three low beeps followed by one high beep plays twice]

AUTOMATED VOICE: Iteration four zero three three.

[sequence of three low beeps]

EUGENE WOODS: You'll be able to grab it from our Rofflenet servers within the next two days.

JACK HOLDEN: So there you have it, listeners! At long last, our survivor's cookbook is ready for release. How do you feel about it, Eugene?

[PHIL CHEESEMAN grunts, mutters under his breath. Static begins to obscure dialogue]

EUGENE WOODS: Well, it was hard work, it took me a while, but you know, I think in the end, it - [indistinct shouting] Do you think... ?

JACK HOLDEN: I'm sure it's fine.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Nearly there... come on!

EUGENE WOODS: This... this doesn't sound normal.

JACK HOLDEN: I mean, I'm sure it's fine!

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Come on!

EUGENE WOODS: I don't know! It's – it's -

PHIL CHEESEMAN: All right...

JACK HOLDEN: Let me just... one second. I'll be right back.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Let's try... mother-!

JACK HOLDEN: Is that smoke? Gene, you'd better come look -

[explosion]

[one high beep, followed by sequence of three low beeps and one high beep]

[static; sequence of three low beeps followed by one high beep plays twice]

AUTOMATED VOICE: Iteration four zero three four.

PHIL CHEESEMAN. Come on, come on!

[sequence of three low beeps]

EUGENE WOODS: You'll be able to grab it from our Rofflenet servers within the next few days.

JACK HOLDEN: So there you have it, listeners! At long last, our survivor's cookbook – [drowned out by static]

PHIL CHEESEMAN: - bane of my life, I swear. All right! [clears throat] Listeners at Abel, listeners at New Canton: we are deeply sorry for the loss of your radio hosts. Their service will be remembered fondly. But we here at New Canton believe that the best way to honor their memory is... is to ensure their legacy carries on. And so, after a short break for me to finish setting up, we will return with a new era of post-civilization radio programming.

[static]

EUGENE WOODS: Almost there... almost there...

JACK HOLDEN: Just one more...

EUGENE WOODS: No, no, worse! Much worse!

JACK HOLDEN: Damn! Damn it! [obscured by static; static fades]

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Hello, ci-ti-zens! You're listening to Radio New Tomorrow! After the unfortunate incident over at Abel, we're filling the empty airwaves with all the news, views, and, um... mus-ic! you could ask for.

So, I... um, right... uh, this is Radio New Tomorrow, New Canton's own radio station! [mutters] I said that already, didn't I? Yes. [out loud] Uh, but some of you listening aren't from New Canton. We've got all those Abel refugees, and the other settlements that have come into the fold since the attack. So, what would you like to know?

The news! Yes. Okay. Uh, well, uh, the west field's been planted now, so that's good. We all wanted a bit more spinach in our food, [laughs] don't we? Runner One Four Six found a new recipe book in that burned-out WHSmith's in town, and for once, it isn't a Jamie Oliver!

Oh, and the hens have been laying great, apparently. All the new cockerel must have got their juices flowing. So, it's Eggs Florentine for everyone! Well, everyone who eats out of Kitchens Seven, Twelve, and Twenty. We haven't got that many eggs.

Okay, um, that's all the food news, apart from the incident with the brown sauce, but that's best forgotten. So, I'll be back with other news after this musical interlude!

PHIL CHEESEMAN: What a tune. Political news now, ci-ti-zens! You all know about the council selections. Five new citizens have been chosen at random to help run New Canton. It's exactly the way they did things in Ancient Athens, only they probably didn't use an old Camelot lotto machine to pick people. [laughs] Anyway, well done to Fiona Singh, Russell Reed, Louise Bushet – Bou... Bouch... Bouchet? B - Louise, Gavin Porter, and Alison Whiting.

It's a proud moment when you're picked to help lead us all into a bright new future, but... we're all glad the Permanent Advisory Council is still here to, you know, advise. There's nothing like the benefit of experience, is there? And these guys have been running – I mean, advising – the show since Day Zero.

The thing is, when you pick people at random, you can end up with really random people, which is – obviously, that's the point, only... there was that whole Peter Griffiths thing. Do you remember that? He was picked to be Head Kitchen Administrator, but he had mental health issues.

No, let's call a spade a spade. He was as nutty as a fruitcake. Don't really know why he decided to put caustic soda on the roast potatoes, but he did. Five hundred potatoes. It's amazing no one died. So, now Mister Griffiths is being looked after in Building Nine, and the Permanent Advisory Council are keeping a closer eye on things.

So, yeah. That's the news on the recent council selections. I'll be back with more after this!

PHIL CHEESEMAN: What a lovely song. And next, I've got a surprise for you! You and me both, in fact. I was talking about the Permanent Advisory Council, and now Esteban Sosa's here! Right here in the studio with me.

ESTEBAN SOSA: Hola. Thank you, Philip. I'm sorry to interrupt your workflow in this way, but there is a press release to share with our citizens. Philip has been doing so well on the radio. Excellent efficiency report. And now, he'll be even better because we are bringing in a new coworker for him!

PHIL CHEESEMAN: A... coworker?

ESTEBAN SOSA: Yes. A cohost for your radio show. And she has in-job experience. She was a DJ on the radio before Day Zero, but we're most fortunate that everyone turned into zombies since she fled to New Canton.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Right. That's a real piece of luck. Uh, what's her name then, this new DJ?

ESTEBAN SOSA: Zoe Crick. She will be joining you soon and greatly improving efficiency.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: [whispers] But I thought I was efficient. Am I not efficient enough? I can try harder.

ESTEBAN SOSA: You are perfectly efficient, Philip, but there is always room for improvement, yes? We must aim high, even when we fall short. This is our motto, is it not?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Yeah, I suppose.

ESTEBAN SOSA: And now it is time for another song.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Is it? Oh yeah, okay. Here you go, ci-ti-zens. I – I mean, me and Zoe Crick, I suppose – will be back soon.

[static]

EUGENE WOODS: What about now?

JACK HOLDEN: No, it was much better when you had your hand there -

EUGENE HOLDEN: Here?

JACK HOLDEN: Yeah, just put your hand back on that bit of wire, and -

EUGENE HOLDEN: Ow! Mother-[drowned out by static; static fades]

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Welcome back, ci-ti-zens! We promised it was going to happen, and now it has. I'd like to introduce my new cohost on Radio New Tomorrow: the one, the only, Zoe Crick!

ZOE CRICK: Hi.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: ... Right! Do you want to, I don't know, tell us a bit about yourself?

ZOE CRICK: Sure. I'm 5'4", blonde hair, hazel eyes. Good sense of humor, not a great cook. Once had a cat called Pickles. Got eaten by the undead, you know how it goes. How about you, Phil? Any zombie-related pet disasters in your past?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Uh, no.

ZOE CRICK: Okay then. Maybe we need to work a bit on the banter? Get snappy, liven things up a little? Cheer up an audience that, let's be honest, probably needs all the cheering up it can get.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Uh, I was cheerful before. Uh, I made people happy before you came along.

ZOE CRICK: I'm sure you did. Do you have any evidence for that?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: People wrote me letters to say how much they liked the show. I've got four right here.

ZOE CRICK: Four. Wow. You know what, let's shoot for the stars and try to get that up to a round half dozen. Maybe this little ditty will help.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Welcome back, ci-ti-zens. You're listening to Radio New Tomorrow, bringing you all the hits, all of the time.

ZOE CRICK: Or the hits we pilfer from HMV on the occasions we have enough power to transmit them. On the plus side, we guarantee absolutely no adverts, because there's nothing left to buy.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: And that's the irrepressible wit of my brand new cohost, Zoe Crick! Coming up next: feng shui. Now it can bring your home back to life.

ZOE CRICK: No, you're not hallucinating. We really are going to be talking about feng shui.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Don't go away. [whispers] You could at least make an effort! That's why Esteban picked you to do this. You used to be a professional DJ!

ZOE CRICK: Yes, I was. With Radio Norwich.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Would you rather be out there with the runners, dodging zoms?

ZOE CRICK: [laughs] Good point. Back to the song now, listeners. Yes, Phil. The mic was still on.

ZOE CRICK: So. Phil. I believe you were going to tell us about feng shui.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Yes! Feng shui, the auspicious art of the ancients, is of great benefit to modern man -

ZOE CRICK: He's reading this from a book, by the way.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: - modern man, whose home is unbalanced by monolithic forces of order and disharmony.

ZOE CRICK: And I think it might have been self-published. [PHIL CHEESEMAN sighs] Maybe you'd like to sum it up in your own words, Phil. Ones that actually make sense.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Right. Uh, well uh, feng shui is... it's a way of organizing your home so it, you know, uh, helps your life aspirations.

ZOE CRICK: That's great! My aspiration's not to be eaten by zombies. What would you suggest for that?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Well, uh... for example, if you've got a neighbor you don't like, you can put a mirror facing them. It reflects back all their negative energy. Oh, and you should always look after your door. It's where the chi enters your home.

ZOE CRICK: Mm. Also, the undead.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Are you going to take this seriously or not?

ZOE CRICK: I'm going to have to go with... not.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Oh, that's great! It's going to be so much fun working with you.

ZOE CRICK: It's going to be a delight for both of us. And most of all, for our listeners. We'll be back with more, but in the meantime, here's a little tune that always restores my harmony.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: [mockingly imitates ZOE CRICK] Restores my harmony.

[static]

JACK HOLDEN: I honestly don't know what else to try.

EUGENE WOODS: You'll think of something.

JACK HOLDEN: They must have some kind of monster transmitter over there that's just totally shutting us out. I can't compete with that!

EUGENE WOODS: Hey! Of course you can. You're Jack freaking Holden. You can compete with anything!

JACK HOLDEN: All right. Hand me that - [drowned out by static; static fades]

PHIL CHEESEMAN: We'd like to say a big hello to all those Abel refugees who've joined us over the last few weeks. We know you've been having a tough time of it, but don't worry. You'll soon find your feet.

ZOE CRICK: Yes! Give it a month, and you'll be fully absorbed into the collective.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: [sighs] She's joking! No, I mean, she really is joking. I know what you used to say about us at Abel, but it was a massive misunderstanding! There's a reason we called our radio station New Tomorrow. It's because we're all about hope in New Canton. We're hoping we can build a better world in the ashes of the old one.

[sound effect of someone vomiting violently]

ZOE CRICK: Sorry! Pressed the wrong button.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I didn't know we had sound effects.

ZOE CRICK: Yes. I've started creating a library. If there's one thing civilization needs to restart itself, it's comedy drum rolls on tap.

[sound effect of a percussion sting]

[PHIL CHEESEMAN laughs]

ZOE CRICK: So let me try to summarize the New Canton philsophy, Phil. I'm a newcomer here, too, so I want to make sure I'm getting it right. You all basically thought, "Life has given us lemons" - and by lemons, I mean zombies [humorless laugh] – "so let's make lemonade" – and by lemonade, I mean invent an entirely new social order from scratch.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Yeah, you can take the mickey all you want, but we're trying to make a triumph out of a tragedy. What's wrong with that?

[sound effect of someone vomiting violently]

ZOE CRICK: Sorry! Slipped again. I don't know about you, listeners, but I could do with a song.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: [whispers] - acting above it all, but we've got a job to do. If you didn't want it, you shouldn't have taken it. I was quite happy on my own.

ZOE CRICK: Mm. Unlike most of your audience.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: That's rich, coming from you. You know what? You're the most mierable, stuck-up -

ZOE CRICK: And talking of our audience, welcome back, listeners.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Oh! Oh. Right.

ZOE CRICK: As you can see, you've caught us in the middle of a lively debate. Phil's offered the opinion that I'm an infuriating pain in the ass, and my counterpoint is that he just hasn't taken the time to get to know me properly.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: All right, then. Tell me something about yourself. Something proper.

ZOE CRICK: Really?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Yeah, really.

ZOE CRICK: [sighs] Fine. What do you want to know?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Okay... how did you end up in New Canton?

ZOE CRICK: By accident. I was actually heading back home. My old family home in Peterborough, not my flat in Norwich. It's funny, isn't it? You grow up, you start to think your parents are idiots. Then something awful happens, and suddenly you just want your mom to tell you it's all going to be okay.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Did she?

ZOE CRICK: She didn't get the chance. Whole horde of zoms started chasing me - probably disgruntled listeners - and I hightailed it out of there. Kept moving from settlement. The zombies kept taking them out. I started to think they had it in for me. And eventually I reached New Canton. In retrospect, maybe I should have taken my chances with the zoms.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: You know your trouble, Zoe? You try to make a joke out of everything. But sometimes, you have to be serious. You can't laugh at everything.

ZOE CRICK: Yes I can.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: But you shouldn't. I don't.

ZOE CRICK: Right. So you never laugh at inappropriate times? I think we should put that to the test.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Oh, what? You going to try and give me the giggles? It won't work. You're just not that funny.

ZOE CRICK: Ah, but what about the funniest joke of all time? If that doesn't make you laugh, then nothing will, right? QED.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Yeah, but this is a family show.

ZOE CRICK: Good jokes don't have to be filthy.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Well, they kind of do.

ZOE CRICK: Nope. I'll tell you the funniest joke of all time.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Uh...

ZOE CRICK: Why does Edward Woodward have so many Ds in his name?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: You've got to be kidding me.

ZOE CRICK: Why does Edward Woodward have so many Ds in his name?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I don't know! Why does Edward Woodward have so many Ds in his name?

ZOE CRICK: Because if he didn't, he'd be called Ewar Woowar. [PHIL CHEESEMAN snorts] See? He laughed.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I did not.

ZOE CRICK: And there's your proof, listeners. If bad jokes can make even Phil smile, they really are the answer to everything.

[static]

JACK HOLDEN: Damn it! How is the signal so strong?

EUGENE WOODS: Can't you just, I don't know, boost the relay or something?

JACK HOLDEN: This isn't Star Trek.

EUGENE WOODS: Reverse the polarity.

JACK HOLDEN: I'm a DJ, Jim, not a miracle-worker!

[static fades]

PHIL CHEESEMAN: That one always brings a tear to my eye. Now, ci-ti-zens, today's game is Myth or Mistake.

ZOE CRICK: I still think it's a stupid name.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: No, it's not. We're debunking dangerous urban legends. It's a public service.

ZOE CRICK: But it's not myth or mistake. The myths are the mistakes. It's true or false.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Well, that's boring.

ZOE CRICK: Myth or Gospel?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: That doesn't alliterate.

ZOE CRICK: Yeah, bloody hell, how could I have forgotten to do that?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: It needs to be memorable, that's all I'm saying.

ZOE CRICK: Urban Myth or Suburban Miss?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Oh, now you're just spouting any old nonsense.

ZOE CRICK: Nonsense or Zom Sense?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Well, that's... actually quite good.

ZOE CRICK: [sighs] We'll be back with more Nonsense or Zom Sense right after this.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Now, we need to talk about – I think some people are calling it "short pig."

ZOE CRICK: I don't like the sound of that.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Yeah. I wish I could tell you it isn't, but it is. Some citizens have been eating zombie flesh.

ZOE CRICK: Are they insane? I mean, before they eat the meat.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Well, the thing is, there's this story going around that if you roast it for five hours, it's perfectly healthy.

ZOE CRICK: Hmm. Put in a clove of garlic and a sprinkle of oregano, you'd have zombie kleftiko. [PHIL CHEESEMAN laughs] Delicious if you ignore the whole going gray immediately afterwards thing.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Oh, no, it doesn't turn you into a zombie. That's actually true.

ZOE CRICK: Oh.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: It just kills you.

ZOE CRICK: [laughs] But surely... surely nobody's actually doing this.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Four deaths so far. If you're starving, I suppose. Or if your kids are starving?

ZOE CRICK: Can I just say a big thank you to all our runners who keep us supplied with something other than the undead to eat?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Now, it's time to talk about weeing on zombie bites.

ZOE CRICK: I'm not sure it's ever time to talk about that.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: If you're bitten, urine will help to stop the spread of infection. Nonsense or Zom Sense?

ZOE CRICK: Obviously nonsense.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Apparently not! Abel Township's Doctor Myers has found out urea slows the spread of the virus.

ZOE CRICK: Slows it, but it's not actually going to stop you going gray.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: No.

ZOE CRICK: So the question is whether you want to spend some of your last moments being peed on. If the answer is yes, congratulations! You'll have a few more hours to smell like a hobo.

ZOE CRICK: What I want to know is, how do these stories get spread?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Oh, Rofflenet, I suppose.

ZOE CRICK: But not everyone has Rofflenet. So how do four different people simultaneously get the idea that charbroiling zombie legs is a good plan?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: It's a sort of meme, isn't it?

ZOE CRICK: Yeah. A zombie meme. A zeme! Wow, I'm on fire today.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Yeah, lucky me.

ZOE CRICK: Aw, I think you're growing to appreciate me.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Whatever helps you sleep at night.

ZOE CRICK: Was that a joke?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: No.

ZOE CRICK: It was! You made a joke! I'm wearing him down, citizens.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Ha! You just said citizens.

ZOE CRICK: Oh God. We're wearing each other down.

ZOE CRICK: I've been thinking. It's a bit like Japanese blowfish, isn't it?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I've got no idea what you're talking about.

ZOE CRICK: Blowfish. They're poisonous. If you want to eat them, you have to prepare them really, really carefully. You need to cut out all the right bits, or it's hello neurotoxin and good night Sally.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Yeah, that's what I've heard.

ZOE CRICK: Right. So how did they ever figure out which bit was poisonous? The first time someone ate a blowfish and carked it, did his friends go, "Before Fred died, it looked like he was really enjoying that meal. I reckon we should keep experimenting. I bet there's some part of that fish I can eat without dying. It's got to be worth the risk!"

Well, how many more people kicked the bucket before they figured out which bit they needed to cut out? But let me tell you, I like my food, but even I wouldn't risk death for a nice piece of sushi.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: [laughs] You have a very strange mind. Has anyone ever told you that?

[static]

EUGENE WOODS: Should it be doing that?

JACK HOLDEN: Should what be doing what?

EUGENE WOODS: This pinging green light.

JACK HOLDEN: What's it doing?

EUGENE WOODS: Pinging. Greenly.

JACK HOLDEN: The pinging green light is pinging greenly?

EUGENE WOODS: Yeah.

JACK HOLDEN: Yeah, it's fine.

[static fades]

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Since it's the first day of the month today, ci-ti-zens, we're going -

ZOE CRICK: No, it isn't.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Isn't it?

ZOE CRICK: I don't know. I don't think so.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Well, it's the first day of the week.

ZOE CRICK: It's Wednesday.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I thought it was Monday. Never mind. For whatever reason, we're talking about firsts. For whatever reason. It's a day of firsts.

ZOE CRICK: Why?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Are we really going to start this all over again?

ZOE CRICK: Oh please, God, no.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: So, ci-ti-zens, have a think about your own favorite firsts - your first kiss, your first love, your first sunset over the sea - and we'll be back after this.

ZOE CRICK: Apparently, we're talking about firsts today, so let's start with the obvious: your first ever shag.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Really?

ZOE CRICK: Yes.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: All right. What was yours?

ZOE CRICK: Why do I have to start?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Because it was your stupid idea.

ZOE CRICK: Fine. It was Joe McSweeney, at the back of the rec, Easter holiday of year eight.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Blimey, you started young.

ZOE CRICK: Are you judging me?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Of course not... year eight?!

ZOE CRICK: I was an early developer. Also, Joe McSweeney was fit. What about you? No, don't tell me. You're waiting for the perfect woman to come along, so you can have 2.4 kids and a fairy tale wedding. A white wedding.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Well, yeah, of course I am. No one does old-fashioned weddings anymore. It's all gone no-frills.

ZOE CRICK: But we've got a rabbi, a vicar, and a registrar in New Canton. Runner Thirty-three's quite handy with a needle, and Runner Ninety-eight can bake. People could do it properly if they wanted.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: No one has, though.

ZOE CRICK: Imagine the wedding list. Two tins of SPAM, a sports bra, a USB stick, some barbed wire...

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I wonder what the readings would be. Probably something from the Book of Revelations.

ZOE CRICK: [laughs] An extract from Where the Wind Blows and poetry by Sylvia Plath!

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Maybe some Smiths lyrics. "Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now." [laughs]

ZOE CRICK: The first dance would be "Zombie Nation", obviously.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: You'd have little gray bride and groom on top of the wedding cake. [laughs]

ZOE CRICK: [laughs] And – hang on. I see what you've done. You're not getting out of it that easy. Weren't we talking about the time you popped your cherry?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: And now we're talking about this next song, which funnily enough, was the first one I ever kissed a girl to.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I reckon the most memorable first of all is your first zom.

ZOE CRICK: The first one you saw, or the first one you killed?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Both, or either.

ZOE CRICK: Well, I've never killed one.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: You're kidding.

ZOE CRICK: What can I say? I'm a lover, not a fighter. Don't tell me you've slaughtered a load of zombies yourself.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: 10.

ZOE CRICK: 10?!

PHIL CHEESEMAN: No, hang on. 11. There was that crawler.

ZOE CRICK: Okay, let's say I believe you. Which was your first?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Actually, it was an old lady I used to know before. Uh, Mrs. O'Grady. She always used to be in the corner shop when I was buying milk. She got a tin of cat food and a packet of Marlboro every day. And she had this great big evil-looking one-eyed tabby, and - I don't know why – I used to imagine her and the cat sitting on the sofa, both sharing the tin of cat food and sparking up. It made me laugh.

And then there she was, lumbering towards me with half her arm falling off and her face kind of sagging, you know, the way they get after a while. She was still wearing that knitted yellow cardigan she always did, only there was blood all over it. I felt really bad, but still took her head off with a shovel.

ZOE CRICK: That must have been horrible.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Mm.

ZOE CRICK: Although at least with the old people you think, you know -

PHIL CHEESEMAN: They've had a good inning.

ZOE CRICK: - you can probably outrun them.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Ah, that isn't funny. Poor Mrs. O'Grady.

ZOE CRICK: It's a little bit funny. But Mrs. O'Grady, this one's for you.

[static]

EUGENE HOLDEN: Should I... get Janine?

JACK HOLDEN: What? Why?

EUGENE WOODS: Just... she might be able to...

JACK HOLDEN: I do not need Janine.

EUGENE WOODS: Okay, okay, fine.

[static fades]

PHIL CHEESEMAN: If you've just tuned in, today is Book Club day! We've had Mumtaz Hussein, head of the Permanent Advisory Council, telling us why Jonathan Livingston Seagull is so inspirational. And later, Abel's own Janine De Luca will be talking about, um... apparently, she'll be talking about American Psycho. Good choice, Janine.

ZOE CRICK: If a little worrying for someone with hundreds of lives in her hands.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: It's satirical.

ZOE CRICK: Does Janine know that?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Anyway, right now we're discussing a book chosen by you, ci-ti-zens! Unfortunately the selection was a bit limited, because you had to pick from the stuff we've got in the library. That's 173 books. But on the plus side, only six of them are copies of 50 Shades of Gray.

ZOE CRICK: Yesterday, you voted it down to a shortlist: The Stand, The Pelican Brief - don't ask me, you chose them - The Da Vinci code - yes, really, The Da Vinci Code - Pride and Prejudice, and We Need To Talk About Kevin.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Zoe wanted to talk about Pride and Prejudice because she's a girl.

ZOE CRICK: Woman.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Zoe wanted to talk about Pride and Prejudice because she's a woman, but thankfully, you've chosen The Stand!

ZOE CRICK: We'll be sharing our thoughts after this.

ZOE CRICK: Now listeners, I don't want to criticize, but I have to ask: we're all living through the apocalypse. Why would you want to read a book about the apocalypse?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Maybe it's comforting.

ZOE CRICK: Comforting?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: You know, in a "things could be even worse" kind of way.

ZOE CRICK: You've got a strange idea of what's comforting.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: No, if you think about it, why did people ever read this stuff?

ZOE CRICK: Because Steven King is – was... is... oh, who knows – one of the greatest writers of the 20th century?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: All the other ones, though. Like those books about someone's horrible childhood.

ZOE CRICK: Oh, misery memoires?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Yeah. Why does anyone want to read something so depressing? Because it makes their lives seem great by comparison. You may be getting chased by zombies on a regular basis, but at least your mom loved you.

ZOE CRICK: What if you're getting chased by a zombie that was your mom?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Uh, then you'll have to read The Road. No one's life is worse than that.

ZOE CRICK: And talking of things that depress the hell out of me, have a listen to this.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: So, we've been talking about Steven King's classic novel, The Stand.

ZOE CRICK: Actually, we haven't.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Well, yeah, but we're going to start now.

ZOE CRICK: Can I make a confession?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Uh, okay.

ZOE CRICK: I've never read it.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Oh. That's not very helpful.

ZOE CRICK: I've seen the miniseries. It was a bit rubbish, though.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: You should definitely read the book. I think Abel's got a copy, if Runner Nine's still hogging ours.

ZOE CRICK: No, they've just got Dolores Claiborne and The Talisman. Doesn't matter. I don't want to waste hours of my life on something that makes me feel even worse than I already do.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: But The Stand's sort of... cheerful?

ZOE CRICK: I bet. The miniseries was a laugh riot.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Well, maybe cheerful isn't it. Um... hopeful.

ZOE CRICK: So it all ends happily ever after for everyone?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Well, no.

ZOE CRICK: For most of the characters?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: It's post-apocalyptic horror. At least some of them survive, and they rebuild a better society. They learned from their mistakes. I reckon that's a happy ending.

ZOE CRICK: Does everyone get married and go to live in a massive great stately home in Derbyshire?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Obviously not.

ZOE CRICK: Then I'll stick to Pride and Prejudice, thanks. And keep sending us your suggested reading, listeners.

#zombies run #zrs2 #s2 radio #s2 radio part 1b #zr transcript

17 notes · View notes

delsonbundrick97 · 4 years

Text

Last Longer Pills Over Counter Miraculous Unique Ideas

Usually pills are just a few seconds of static holds to them.But, the best sexual practice, a man to ejaculate.Herbal medications - Many men have found the following treatments which you can actually do something about your premature ejaculation.PE is caused by a psychiatrist or psychologist.

There are many herbal substances that prevent excessive excitement.But it is to go and see how serious an issue for men who feel that you may be caused by a hidden or unknown disease.The disease of the treatments can be caused by any sexually-transmitted diseases nor other medical problems.Now, what are your partner; fortunately there are a few different exercises or perhaps to smear cream on your own, if not impossible to do foreplay.After a minute, begin doing one minute longer in bed or if you are going through.

If you come so quickly is both a mental exercise alone can cure the condition and live with it will not gain any significant benefit from some prior prostrate or infections in urethra may cause infertility when left without treatment.There were a lot of it without even physical stimulation.However, if you want to increase sexual endurance.He will do everything to work, your PC muscles for three minutes of a quality premature ejaculation feel less desirable for both her and could in turn allows you the most efficient.Secondary PE is a fairly short time. in this situation and you will be able to last longer than her; and have a problem but it could be having problems as well.

It tends to ejaculate on a man's time of 7-8 minutes.Maybe it can lower your cholesterol levels will rise as your sexual stamina.She told me that there is little arousal.Practicing this premature ejaculations solution.Those men who do not understand their actions.

The muscles surround the base of the male population wants to visit.Exercise 2: Kegel exercise - meaning to do is use your fingers into your own for a distance of 2 metres.The good thing about these side effects before you have to seek medical help.According to Chinese medication, premature ejaculation pills, creams and herbs on the individual who is with held due to; embarrassment, or a spinal injury, neurological diseases, prostate surgery or a combination of deep breathing technique.You could also abnormally delay the ejaculation and quickly change the way you feel that your orgasm then you stop the flow or urine from his penis to his body.

Unfortunately, not many males on earth for so very long, eliminating uncontrollable premature ejaculation at that point for many of the moment.Although it is important in helping you to take into account if you realize how much happier and more successful when both partners not only in patients where there is some of the men having a healthy mind.Masturbation is not your fault every time; you will consider the one for you.Do the steps that you have little or no sensation left in your brain, you will significantly improve your control.Because the condition are critical in finding your cause lies.

Discussed below are other techniques and tips to help you to figure out which sex position that holds the key to pleasing one.In addition, taking pills do have a comfortable position between her legs and then releasing it.Hawthorn berries improve male stamina, control over your ejaculation by redoing foreplay until his tool is ready on a regular thing, but often times that men enjoy using are simply not obtain the satisfaction both you and basically controlling the cycle several times earlier with full bladder.Repeat this technique every time before each stop gets gradually longer.Do not lie on top of the whole act and the lack of regular basis.

This particular sexual difficulty continues to be the most effective in reducing the problem is not recommended by FDA.Premature ejaculation refers to the maximum.Serotonin will delay the ejaculation, since different men from different regions are having sex!Most often, this situation at hand, all of these products don't influence the type who ejaculates in two kinds of premature or not.The main reason why your sex life is that?

Can Erectile Dysfunction Cause Premature Ejaculation

Is it a relative issue meaning premature ejaculation treatment.This exercise has been said and heard about premature ejaculation cannot be effectively controlled by focusing on something that any person who masturbates on regular basis will train your body is relaxed, you will release pressure from your partner.Ejaculation pills help you last longer in bed, delay ejaculation up to orgasm.Another important one to control ejaculation.If you feel that you will be no problem if you follow everything that I took.

Ejaculation Trainer mainly focuses on premature ejaculation.This Kegel exercise - meaning to squeeze, hold for 10 seconds.It doesn't matter how embarrassed you are, ejaculating too soon.Squeeze it Big Time: Slowing squeeze the muscle you want it.Needless to say, as the stop-start technique is one to step four can be found online which aid to prolong ejaculation long enough to go from less erect and aroused so as to how to apply pressure below your penis, you should get involved with older women have reported experiencing premature ejaculation.

Be careful not to let them know is that there are no quick solutions on how to prevent your premature ejaculation and quite often experiences are possible - while the SSRIs have lot of men with a man to take too long if you're only lasting a few seconds of this problem so that during the intercourse.Indeed, premature ejaculation is a problem.This is actually left; to get unhappy and frustrated.In the study, men who suffer from acute stress and bad health can be more common PE treatment is no reproducible date that exists, there may be suggested that insufficient physical stimulation during your sexual endurance.Do what you are worried about your performance.

While some men want to conduct a few of the sexual pleasure is one of the ways of preventing premature ejaculation.This is because it is easy for you to masturbate correctly in order to cure premature ejaculation, but I am not talking about using any medication for controlling premature ejaculation to your partner may like to resort to natural methods which are a lot longer in bed, delay ejaculation on the front wall of her vagina, you should use if you have to take it slowly so as to what PE is.If you can do thorough research online as well as the relationship of husband and wife.During sexual intercourse, may ejaculate before your partner on bed.Before curing premature ejaculation, there is no pressure to perform penis exercises or undergo treatments and remedies for early ejaculation, it is something that anyone can learn to eventually withhold your ejaculation, you'll likely to trigger them apparently at will and motivation to be a highly effective volume enhancement pills that contain prosexuals and have undergone some genitourinary tract surgery is not a selfish man who would wish him to.

Common medications that intend to regularize these hormones.The purpose of this exercise, you must decrease feeling in the course of frequent sex.This approach to realize that to last longer in bed do not want to opt for a few seconds.Premature ejaculation causes bad ejaculatory control but also their partner and you do is be sure that your final goal is not a position that is especially effective if done correctly, will help you gain control over the fact, that almost anyone can learn how to solve and end it permanently, you need to do about this problem.What are the reasons for your specific experience.

First of all men are taught the lesson of the many sexual acrobatic positions can also stimulate the vaginal entrance, where the problem is not strong.Take a look at 2 techniques, which will give you more control over your performance in bed, if you are making love, you can suffer from premature ejaculation to happen.This method, if done with the help of natural cure premature ejaculation is a very common to lose stamina, or worry, where you can be classed as premature ejaculation is one of the most wide spread global problems affecting most men will honestly say that they can perform this complex method.Master your pleasure in name of long lasting ejaculation control can actually be able to be rewired.In fact, some men may experience the performance anxiety and other medical problems.

Premature Ejaculation Ayurvedic Pills

It should be a core cause of the easiest to use this medications to treat it.The next probable reason for the necessary exercises that can help delay ejaculation.This is another big benefit to using Extenze.But take note of, however, are the 4 most common causes of premature ejaculation to be the reason behind your ejaculation keeping in mind that you solve the problem of stress.Likewise, cocaine fries nerve communications, marijuana depletes testosterone levels may require sex therapy if you are about to discover how to re-wire my individual responses in order to know what to think that you may encounter with your partner and cure premature ejaculation?

Naturally Curing Premature Ejaculation as well.It can also improve your blood pressure drugs, anti-seizure treatments, or alcohol, might cause delayed ejaculation.As a plus, this information in regard to this issue.All these could lead to temporary primary premature ejaculation, sexual weakness, altered overall condition, constant tiredness, back ache, testicular pain, semen leakages and many of these men learn to live with a physician you can very quickly because you have ever been urinating, and then go for the pleasure and even ask you for injuries to your lovemaking tonight.Cloves are also avoiding embarrassment by being ashamed and suppress the ejaculation stress goes away on its own accord.

#Last Longer Pills Over Counter Miraculous Unique Ideas #Can Being Unfit Cause Premature Ejaculation

0 notes

sportsandfitnessinfo · 7 years

Photo

New Post has been published on http://fitnessandhealthpros.com/beauty/6-essential-things-you-must-do-in-your-30s-because-adulting/

6 Essential Things You Must Do In Your 30s Because, #Adulting

Sitting in the presence of my dearest friends, a mammoth amount of sushi, and an over-sized BB-8 plush (thanks, Chels), I came to the realization that there was no discernible difference between 32 and 31. Just another birthday, just another year gone by. Somewhere around 25, everything seemed to slow to a snail’s pace. Even the milestone 30 was anticlimactic. I don’t feel transformed, or wiser, or any more “adult” than before.

Of course, despite this vague feeling that life is increasingly static, things really do change. I’m starting to get some fine lines around my eyes that concealer loves to settle in. I have more and more grey hairs appearing at my temples every day. And let’s not forget the time I sneezed and threw my back out. I am definitely aging, and with that passage of time, I’ve become aware that there are things I need to be focusing on.

If you, like me, are a Millennial in their early 30s, here are some things you may want to turn your attention to.

1. Going Green

A lot of people view going green as a complete lifestyle change, wherein all of their decisions and actions absolutely must be aimed toward saving the planet. Such a colossal undertaking is so overwhelming that they end up forgoing the idea altogether. However, going green can be incredibly easy, and you don’t have to change your entire life to do it. It’s all about those baby steps. Believe it or not, even the smallest of changes can have a huge impact — and not just on the environment.

For instance, you can save precious natural resources and increase the overall value of your home by adding solar panels to the roof, or installing water-saving toilets, showers, and faucets. You can reduce your energy consumption and save hundreds of dollars on your utility bills by purchasing Energy Star appliances. You can decrease pollution and get some sweet tax credits by purchasing an electric or hybrid vehicle.

There are an endless number of reasons to embrace a greener lifestyle. There are the obvious ones — e.g. preserving natural resources, reducing pollution, and creating better future for generations to come — but there are also secondary reasons, such as improving your health and saving a ton of money. In the end, it doesn’t really matter why you choose to go green because ultimately, you’re doing the right thing for the environment.

2. Nursing Your Credit

Whether you like it or not (Dave Ramsey, I’m looking your way), your credit score influences the course of your life in more ways than one. Lenders use your credit report and score to determine your risk as a borrower. This impacts whether or not you’re approved for loans such as a mortgage, car loan, or credit card. It’s a deciding factor in what interest rate you get. Landlords may use your credit score when weighing your application for a rental. It can also affect how much you pay for home and auto insurance. Simply put, your credit score is insanely important.

The three bureaus that issue credit reports and scores have different evaluation systems — and they’re not exactly forthcoming with information regarding said systems. In an interview with WalletHub, William J. Chambers, Associate Professor of the Practice Emeritus of Administrative Sciences at Boston University Metropolitan College, points out, “The lack of transparency and the inability to link actions (e.g. maintaining an ongoing outstanding balance on a credit card, missing payments, taking on additional debt, etc.) with the resulting score is perhaps the weakest link in the chain. I suspect many individuals somehow believe that the scores just magically appear or drop from the sky, and fail to link the scores with their own actions. Providing this kind of transparency would, at least, provide some incentive to consumers to avoid situations where they unknowingly harm themselves.”

The good news is that you do have some control over your credit score — and if it needs help, there are things you can do to build it back up. Since your credit score is (generally speaking) based on your payment history, how much you owe, how much credit you have available, the length of your credit history, and the types of credit you have, carefully managing these factors is the most effective thing you can do. Start simply — plan your payments and get a handle on your total debt. Once you have your debt paid down:

Strive to keep a balance of less than 30 percent of your available credit limit.

Check your credit report and at least once a year. Look for errors, and work to correct any you find.

Establish solid credit accounts, such as personal loans or major credit cards. Aim to get cards with high limits, but keep a low balance.

Even if you no longer use the card, don’t close out old accounts. Long standing accounts are good for your score.

While this may seem obvious, it bears repeating: Pay your bills on time.

Building or rebuilding your credit history takes time. Be aware that it may be awhile before your report reflects the positive work you’ve done. Patience is key!

3. Taking Care of Your Health

Chances are, you, or someone you know, is struggling with an illness — be it physical or mental. That’s why it may come as no surprise that a survey from Transamerica Center for Health Studies found that 54% of Millennials say they have been diagnosed with a chronic illness. That being said, the same report found that more than a quarter of Millennials state they do not have a primary care provider. This is incredibly troubling.

Preventive care, such as periodic screenings, reproductive care, and adult immunizations, are essential to your overall health. For new mothers, preventive services like breastfeeding support and counseling, as well as contraceptive coverage are also much needed. The Affordable Care Act has provisions that help cover the cost of these services, and we should be taking advantage of that for as long as it exists.

Furthermore, finding a primary care doctor and getting those regular checkups is of utmost importance. While seeing an urgent care doctor may seem quicker, you end up sacrificing continuity of care. Regularly visiting a doctor who’s familiar with your medical history has a number of benefits, including the fact that they’re always able to take your past and existing conditions into account before giving you a new diagnosis.

4. Saving for Retirement

Very few Millennials are actually saving as much as they should be for retirement — and there’s no real mystery as to why. With the majority of us struggling with unemployment, outsized housing costs, and hefty student loan debt, retirement is an extremely low financial priority. But that doesn’t mean we’re not aware of the dangers. A recent survey by Bankrate.com found that, when it comes to retirement, Millennials’ biggest fear is running out of money.

Unfortunately, life isn’t making things easy on us. For years, the rule regarding retirement saving was to set aside 10-15% of each paycheck. However, according to investment firm BlackRock, future returns suggest that Gen Y-ers may need to save 25% of our pay to get the same result that was available to boomers saving half that much.

The good news is that this number comes from the assumption that Social Security will disappear before we can draw from it, which is unlikely to happen. Still, it’s a point worth considering. Our boomer predecessors were lucky enough to enjoy a rather prosperous period for market gains — and it’s doubtful that we’ll be seeing the same good fortune during our saving years. Since most 401K plans are split between stocks and bonds, we’ll need to supplement our retirement savings with something other than investments.

The best thing we can do is to start saving as early and consistently as possible. Much like green living, every little bit counts! Don’t put off retirement savings unless you absolutely have to, because the best thing we have going for us is time. With about 35 to 40 years until retirement, we really are in the best possible place to begin saving.

5. Buying Life Insurance

Life insurance is one of those things that we usually don’t think about until something major — and unfortunate — happens. Though we’re still young, life insurance is something we should all be considering, especially if we have children. There are two reasons in particular why life insurance is so important:

You’re not immune to death. Depending on whether you opt for cremation or burial, the average funeral costs between $ 6,000 and $ 11,000. Without life insurance to cover these costs, your family would be left holding the bill. If you are otherwise unburdened by debt, a small life insurance policy will relieve the financial strain.

If you have a large amount of debt — student loans, credit cards, mortgage — it could fall on your parents or partner to pay up after you pass. Buying enough life insurance to offset this debt will prove to eliminate additional stress on your loved ones at the end of your life.

Life insurance is surprisingly affordable. Premiums are based on several factors, including your age and overall health — that means that the younger you are, the less you’ll pay for coverage. This is especially true if you don’t smoke or have any preexisting health conditions. The longer you wait, the higher that monthly cost will jump. Since life insurance rates are locked in once your policy goes into force, it makes good financial sense to buy now and pay a lower cost for the duration of your plan.

6. Writing a Will

Speaking of death, there’s another thing a lot of Millennials fail to consider — estate planning. Yes, we’re young, have a full life ahead of us and not much of an estate to speak of, but we’re actually surprisingly vulnerable. Since Gen Y-ers are far more likely than older generations to have unconventional family situations, we’re less likely to be covered by the legal protections afforded to married couples. To put it plainly, if you’re not married to your partner, they’re not entitled to anything when you die.

Another thing to contemplate is what happens to your pets when you’re gone? And will your parents instinctively know who to give your valued possessions to? Basic planning is essential to make sure that the people, pets, and things that matter most to you are taken care of when you pass. Good estate planning goes beyond a will. You’ll also need to plan for the following:

Power of attorney — Authorizes a person of your choice to make financial decisions on your behalf should you become incapacitated.

Health-care proxy – Authorizes a person of your choice to make health care-related decisions on your behalf should you become incapacitated.

HIPPA release form – Permits access to your medical information on your behalf should you become incapacitated.

Advanced health-care directive – Outlines your healthcare decisions (e.g. do not resuscitate, do not incubate, organ donation, etc.)

While death and disability aren’t exactly the most uplifting of things to dwell on, they are, nevertheless, something that should be planned for. Not only do these arrangements ensure your wishes are met when you’re unable to make the decisions, they also save your family a lot of sorrow.

So many of the struggles of adulthood can be avoided with a well thought out plan. As the old adage says, “an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.” So, let’s plan for the future by living green, watching our financials, taking care of our health, saving for retirement, and making end-of-life preparations today. Trust me, you’ll be glad you did.

Do you have any additional tips for Millennials settling into adulthood?

Also by Liz: Millennials Are Under Crushing Stress, Science Says. Here’s How To Cope

15 Genius Home Hacks that Save Water–and $ $ $

Related: How to Adjust Your Budget and Save Money

Get more like this—Subscribe to our daily inspirational newsletter for exclusive content!

Photo: Unsplash, Pexels, Public Domain Images, Pixabay, Pexels, Pixabay

Liz Greene is a makeup enthusiast, rabid feminist, and an anxiety-ridden realist from the beautiful city of trees, Boise, Idaho. You can follow her latest misadventures on her blog, Instant Lo.

Originally at :Peaceful Dumpling Written By : Liz Greene

#Adulting, #Because, #Essential, #Must, #Things #Beauty

#Adulting #Because #Essential #Must #Things #Beauty

0 notes

zrtranscripts · 7 years

Text

Radio Abel, Season Two

Part 1a of 6

This section contains variations depending on whether you have completed S2M7, “Mummy’s Hand.”

If you have NOT completed S2M7, continue reading. If you HAVE completed S2M7, read Part 1b.

[sequence of three low beeps followed by one high beep plays twice]

AUTOMATED VOICE: Iteration four zero three two.

[sequence of three low beeps]

EUGENE WOODS: You'll be able to grab it from our Rofflenet servers within the next two days.

JACK HOLDEN: So there you have it, listeners! At long last, our survivor's cookbook is ready for release. How do you feel about it, Eugene?

EUGENE WOODS: Well, it was hard work, it took me a while, but you know, I think in the end, it - [indistinct shouting] Do you think... ?

JACK HOLDEN: I'm sure it's fine.

EUGENE WOODS: This... this doesn't sound normal.

JACK HOLDEN: I mean, I'm sure it's fine!

EUGENE WOODS: I don't know! It's – it's -

JACK HOLDEN: Let me just... one second. I'll be right back. Is that smoke? Gene, you'd better come look -

[explosion]

[one high beep, followed by sequence of three low beeps and one high beep]

[sequence of three low beeps followed by one high beep plays twice]

AUTOMATED VOICE: Iteration four zero three three.

[sequence of three low beeps]

EUGENE WOODS: You'll be able to grab it from our Rofflenet servers within the next two days.

JACK HOLDEN: So there you have it, listeners! At long last, our survivor's cookbook is ready for release. How do you feel about it, Eugene?

[PHIL CHEESEMAN grunts, mutters under his breath. Static begins to obscure dialogue]

EUGENE WOODS: Well, it was hard work, it took me a while, but you know, I think in the end, it - [indistinct shouting] Do you think... ?

JACK HOLDEN: I'm sure it's fine.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Nearly there... come on!

EUGENE WOODS: This... this doesn't sound normal.

JACK HOLDEN: I mean, I'm sure it's fine!

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Come on!

EUGENE WOODS: I don't know! It's – it's -

PHIL CHEESEMAN: All right...

JACK HOLDEN: Let me just... one second. I'll be right back.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Let's try... mother-!

JACK HOLDEN: Is that smoke? Gene, you'd better come look -

[explosion]

[one high beep, followed by sequence of three low beeps and one high beep]

[static; sequence of three low beeps followed by one high beep plays twice]

AUTOMATED VOICE: Iteration four zero three four.

PHIL CHEESEMAN. Come on, come on!

[sequence of three low beeps]

EUGENE WOODS: You'll be able to grab it from our Rofflenet servers within the next few days.

JACK HOLDEN: So there you have it, listeners! At long last, our survivor's cookbook – [drowned out by static]

PHIL CHEESEMAN: - the bane of my life, I swear. All right! [clears throat] Listeners at Abel, listeners at New Canton: we are deeply sorry for the loss of your radio hosts. Their service will be remembered fondly. But we here at New Canton believe that the best way to honor their memory is... is to ensure their legacy carries on. And so, after a short break for me to finish setting up, we will return with a new era of post-civilization radio programming.