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sunshades · 5 months

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grief in the city, or "how many days off will i get when my lover dies of consumption next march"

Expanding from this post (@puffles HI) or mostly just trying to write it out in a readable fashion. (lor spoilers ahead yeehaw 📚)

Just been thinking. Death in the pmverse city. It's not something you're really allowed to get personal with. But some people just can't help it.

In lobocorp we get a look at what it's like from the inside of a corporation, and like yeah the entire story is about it, but to me Yesod's parts more than anyone else's showcase this feeling.

(Yesod core suppression dialogue)

The question of detachment comes up pretty often, and he points out Malkuth's as the ideal behavior to cope with it- forgetting you're dealing with humans as much as you can. Through his arc in lobocorp he struggles with it, this idea that it can all be fine if he stops thinking of the others as having a face, a name, and most importantly (for him) a body. Of course a strategy like that stops working as soon as one remembers, as one gets closer. That is one of the main themes of lor.

We're introduced to Xiao midway through the game, and her story unfolds as we start to learn about Roland's. The way she describes herself is similar to how A talks about Yesod, though Xiao doesn't feel special for it. The softness of her (at the time) coworker Lowell confounds her.

(Xiao's key page)

Then the invitation reaches her, and therefore the news of Lowell's death, and this changes. Her reaction is intense, she describes it vividly. And it feels... kind of natural considering the martial culture of her workplace? Specifically for an Association whose mechanics literally run off emotion levels.

(Liu S1 reception)

But we immediately see that no, to everyone else this seems like an overreaction to losing a partner. We see it from Chun's reaction, then Angela's, who suggests she simply finds a substitute for Lowell, and Roland himself is surprised by it: he muses about the Light influencing the people of the City: this is such a strange thing it gets compared to the goddamn Distortion! When we take a look at Lowell's own book it seems to confirm that out of the two he's always been the one with the more unconventional mindset.

(Lowell's key page)

It's not groundbreaking to say one should care about their partner, but it feels like in the City this isn't really the case? It feels like having someone you cherish becomes something of a nuisance as it can interfere with a Fixer's ability to... well, work. Roland, though affected for obvious reasons, tells Angela about it briefly enough, and it seems it's not particularly noteworthy, having romantic entanglements but also losing them pretty quickly. It's something that happens, that you're supposed to deal with easily enough, and go back to work.

(Liu S2 second reception)

Instead Xiao's feelings lead her to do the direct opposite; it's noteworthy that before her reception she resigns from the Association, and immediately justifies herself to her subordinates by letting them know this shouldn't affect their careers. It's worth noting that Roland's story is marked by a similar situation, once he's exposed in his revenge quest, he loses his Color title as well as his Fixer grade. In both situations we find that the question of how to deal with Survival (being a survivor to the person you love) can't escape from the problem of Survival (how to make a living). The death of another puts you in actual danger if you actually care about them.

In light of this, Lowell's hopes and promises for Xiao read differently. His apparent softness and sensitivity reveals itself as something he can handle very rationally; aware of how deeply their feelings run, he asks her to vow to always watch over herself.

(Liu S1 reception)

Instead Xiao, and we later learn about Roland, embrace the horror of what's happened to them, and show us what it's like to go into the deep end of this grief; it's a deviation from what we might consider normal or #HEALTHY, but it's also a display of feeling that usually people of the City just... don't allow themselves to have. I don't wanna ramble about this too long, but since limbus vaguely uses the Divine Comedy as a source, in Dante terms I would say: while Xiao and Roland commit sins of excess of love, letting their anger over their loved ones take them over, the people of the City in general commit the sin of sloth, "laziness of the heart", it's people who refuse to let any kind of attachment in their heart, because it's simply easier not to deal with them. Roland's arc touches on it quite often.

(Natural Sciences realization)

Though Roland does eventually turn out to be, well. A big deal, a lot of his behavior in the library is supposed to show him as a kind of everyman of the City. In moments where he talks like this, he's expressing what it actually feels like for most people to live in there. This heavily contrasts with Xiao's own beliefs, the ones she develops through her love, and that leads to her EGO manifestation.

(Liu S1 reception)

By the end we also know that the truth is Roland's own mindset isn't quite the one he tries to preach ("that's that and this is this"), but the grief over the loss of Angelica, and more generally the pain for the life he's always had, still weighs so heavy on him he isn't able to just start again- he doesn't want to! As the stories goes on and he faces the horrors of the City together with Angela, even this facade of "sloth" fades away, and his actual feelings start to show, the love and the anger and all of the grief- he starts to resonate with the abnos as Angela did, a similar experience to distorting.

While Roland has a lot of interesting dialogue, it'd take a whole other post to talk about it (I'm sure someone smarter has done it already) so for the purposes of this and to keep on topic I only wanna talk about a little bit that Xiao doesn't touch on, and that feels relevant with the perspective of canto VI.

(Black Silence "soulmates" reception)

In one of the darkest moments, we get a (can I say it now?) ⛈ HEARTBREAKING ⛈ confession straight from the inside of Roland's mind, the fear that in choosing to move on he'll have abandoned Angelica and all they meant for each other. The "pair of linked souls" is tied on a mechanical level, to beat them you need to disrupt their soul link, a buff they give each other that makes them basically unbeatable- they keep each other alive. Roland's fear, after years of Fixer work, after seeing how little value a person's life has in the eyes of the City, is this: that the second he looks away from Angelica's death and his attempt to avenge it, he'll have forsaken her forever, that their love and life together will lose its meaning.

Only with the help of the librarians and particularly Angela he's able to accept that's not the case, and in the final reception he once again wields her name and her gloves, carrying on her legacy and memory for the sake of the future and the new people he wants to protect.

Finally, I wanna show an incredibly interesting piece of dialogue from Leviathan, between Vergilius and Carmen.

(Leviathan chapter 18, translation by @/SnakeskinFS on twitter)

Now, Carmen's take on love is... something. Love as she means it is what we know to bring to Distortion, but it is interesting that the actual implication in the world she draws up is what the people of the City need back is contact with one another, understanding. It's also interesting Vergilius calls it a word he's unaccustomed to. Obviously here it doesn't apply strictly to romantic love, but this does check out with how little we get to see City residents... well, loving each other.

Xiao for Lowell, Roland for Angelica, as well as honestly Carmen for herself, her vision for the future, stand out in crowds of cordial coworkers and friends of circumstances, for the strength of their feelings, love in its danger and beauty. The paths they end up following are messy, some very bloody, and done in remembrance of the people they valued above all else. It's the theme of love that entwines so closely with that of death, the question of what you do when you're the one surviving and left behind.

So here's where I think of canto VI- WH is so heavily defined by grief. This is partially tied to its literary influences, partially to the author's own experience, but the story is scarred by the various funerals, each of which changes someone's life, mostly for the worse.

Is this malicious? A little. A little... not? Like in the City, the feeling is that the dead, the memory of them, follow because they love the living. When we get to Cathy's death, she and Heathcliff curse each other back and forth before making peace again, but in the end more than their harshness, what hits the most is the connection, the yearning to be reunited- "I care nothing of your sufferings" is soon followed by "I'm not wishing you greater torment than I have", which leads into the Heartbreaking speech, that we already know will be very relevant in the canto, in which Heathcliff takes her pain as his.

NOW I see readings/speculation around that this will be portrayed as lcb Cathy trying to tie Heathcliff to his past forever/them needing to Kill Her, and metaphorically his affection for her in order for him to move on and become his own person, to which I say: meh? I think that misses part of the point, makes her out to be a plot device instead of a character that, like him, has grown in an awful abusive household, and laments in her deathbed that she wishes things had been different, and that the person she loves could stay with her longer, after circumstances beyond their control have forced them apart.

By the end of it, though we know that in the book it doesn't really turn out like she'd like, Cathy claims she'd rather him remember her words, and her, as harsh and cruel than nurse anger while he lives on, she hates the thought that he should suffer more when she's gone, because she, too, feels his suffering as hers.

To me this last wish she expresses is most reminiscent of what we see of Lowell's request to Xiao, the way it's not fulfilled until the last minute. Xiao doesn't listen and she goes on, fully aware she's betraying the trust he put in her, and that she might be the next to die. Because of this betrayal, her feelings, this excess of love threatens to have the best of her, to make her forget about Lowell and focus only on herself and her anger- the "love of the self" that is the Distortion. Her final reception has her talking back to Carmen's proposal and worldview, detailing the way her bond with Lowell, but also Miris, Chun and all of her men, have been keeping her strong to this point.

(Xiao reception)

With the awareness her lover is dead and gone, she manages to work through her feelings and gain strength from them, deciding that these bonds, and her memory will keep all of them alive through each other.

SO am I saying this is totally happening to Heathcliff in canto VI. I mean, nah, not necessarily. But considering the similarities he shares with these other stories, and how we've already seen these examples of the theme of grief over a loved one being handled before in the previous games and resulting in these genuinely amazing characters, it's something I think about.

As we're talking about a game adaptation that obviously can't adapt 20 more years of story (and let's be real, shouldn't either. If you want to read WH you can just read WH,) I think that would be a reasonable way for the canto to play out: getting to see one of the sinners genuinely lose it over someone's death in a way none of the others really did, explicitly showing the uniqueness of such intense affection in a place like the City, and then slowly beginning the road to recovery. Much like for Xiao and Roland, this being done not as a result of leaving the past behind, but as a direct result of their love for another, and that of their lover as well as everyone else who cherishes them (Miris, Angela and the librarians- I think we'll soon add the sinners to the list).

(post core suppression dialogue)

To quote another bit from our bestie Yesod, the hope that grows out of the rot, as the death of another, but as your own wounded self as well.

So to conclude. I think in general, in the context of how we've seen major characters work around their grief in previous games it'd make sense for canto VI to reach a similar conclusion, the death being something that weighs heavily, but doesn't obscure the possibility of a future. Still. Love as something dangerous that has extreme power over us, but as something that lives in us and can't be taken away.

#bell.txt #limbus company #library of ruina #project moon #edit ok all screenies are captioned now. how did i write so much #its like barely even speculation im just putting together some stuff that gets me thinking about the general Vibe. i love u the city #xiao roland and heathcliff talk. dead wife club (honorific)#btw Did You Know: if canto vi releases on white day that means part 2 will release right after cathys book accurate death day. LOLLL #lcb heathcliff #xiao lor #roland lor #canto vi #edit 2: VINDICAAAAATION

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ghostlyyraccoon · 7 months

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Rational Chapter 1 (Kavetham Hanahaki AU)

Warning: Graphic depictions of violence, blood, injury, explicit content in ch2

Ship: Kaveh/Alhaitham

Chapter: 1/2

Summary:

Have you heard what they’ve been saying about the Academiya’s Scribe? Rumour has it he’s come down with a lung disease of the most curious kind! The whole House of Daena has witnessed him coughing up leaves and petals like crazy! Apparently, it’s been going on for several weeks, yet the Scribe refused to go see a doctor until his health took a sudden turn for the worse. Yesterday, he was found unconscious at his desk! Fortunately, the General Mahamatra and Light of Kshahrewar were closeby and able to bring him to the Bimarstan before anything worse could happen.

“Have you heard what they’ve been saying about the Academiya’s Scribe? Rumour has it he’s come down with a lung disease of the most curious kind! The whole House of Daena has witnessed him coughing up leaves and petals like crazy! Apparently, it’s been going on for several weeks, yet the Scribe refused to go see a doctor until his health took a sudden turn for the worse.Yesterday, he was found unconscious at his desk! Fortunately, the General Mahamatra and Light of Kshahrewar were closeby and able to bring him to the Bimarstan before anything worse could happen.”

“Come on now, stop lying. I can see the General Mahamatra helping out like that, but the Light of Kshahrewar? Why would he care about the Scribe? Aren’t they constantly on a warpath with one another? The messaging boards are filled to the brim with their arguments and rumour has it they’ve been rivals since their Academiya days.”

“I swear I'm telling nothing but the truth! The Scribe is in the process of getting the treatment now, they say.”

“Treatment? But wouldn’t that mean he would lose the ability to love forever? There aren't many other treatments for that kind of disease. Unless his feelings are requited, of course, but I assume the problem wouldn’t be ours to discuss right now if that were the case.”

“Come on now, we’re talking about the Scribe here. You can’t expect those insane academics to care about much more than their research. For people like him, feelings are nothing but an obstacle. Who knows, maybe he’s even glad to lose the ability to love. One less thing to worry about.”

“You're right, you're right. Still, it's a bit of a shame, don't you think so?”

When Cyno and Kaveh found him in his office, he was slumped over his desk next to several documents now ruined by his blood and the petals that were stuck to each and every page. If you were to ask Alhaitham about it, he would most certainly tell you that little was lost that day as all applications present were both poorly written and hardly remarkable. Alhaitham was just about conscious enough to tell Cyno and Kaveh exactly so while they tried to pry him off his chair. They ended up carrying him to the Bimarstan, Alhaitham’s right arm slung over Cyno’s shoulder, the left one over Kaveh’s as he drifted in and out of consciousness.

Now, several hours later, he was lying on a hospital bed, book in hand and nose buried inside. He was hooked to a machine that monitored his heartbeat and filled the room with a steady beeping sound. The blanket had been discarded and he was lying on the bare mattress, one leg crossed over the other, as if the sole usage of it would be an admittance of vulnerability he didn’t care to make. His relaxed pose made him look much more like a man enjoying his day off rather than a patient in dire need of care. And perhaps that was exactly how he wanted to be perceived. The only sign telling tales of Alhaitham’s sickness was his appearance. The bags under his eyes were pronounced and whenever he spoke, there was a harsh rasp to his voice.

After all, the rumours were true. Alhaitham’s lungs were infected with sharp roots ready to tighten their hold. The disease was rare, but certainly not unheard of. It was of a fantastical kind, illogical and unforgiving in the eye of hidden love; an ailment that tended to befall those blessed with dendro visions.

The curtain hiding the hospital bed from the public eye was pulled to the side with care, the rattling of the hooks loud in the otherwise silent room. A blond head of hair came into view and Kaveh threw Alhaitham a strange look as he thrust a glass of water towards him. Before Alhaitham’s fingers could come to touch it, the words already started to tumble out of Kaveh's mouth.

“So you’re finally awake again, huh?”

For a short moment Alhaitham lifted his eyes off the page to muster him, one eyebrow raised. “Clearly,” he simply stated before turning his gaze back towards the book. Admittedly, he had stopped paying attention to the words on the page the moment Kaveh entered the room. Not that he could stay focused with the way his head was pulsating anyway.

“Don’t you have anything else to say, Alhaitham? Really, nothing?!”

When he received no answer, Kaveh let out a breath of air, collecting himself as he straightened his shoulders. “Sure, if you insist on staying quiet, then I can talk to myself just fine. Not like that’s anything new,” he muttered to himself. Kaveh placed the glass he was still holding down and for a moment, his gaze wandered across the hospital bed, a pensive expression on his face until he decided to sit down on the edge of the bed. “I know we’ve had our share of ups and downs, but I at least expected you to tell me when you’re… oh, I don’t know, actively dying?! You should’ve told me, but for some reason you didn’t. Why?” His voice was loud enough to sound throughout the entire room. A few nurses who were just passing by turned their heads, whispering to one another.

“We live together, for god's sake,” he added, a bit softer this time. “Have I not asked time and time again what's been going on with you? You could’ve just told me! But no, you once again decided to keep me in the dark. Am I that much of a stranger to you?”

Alhaitham exhaled through his nose and snapped his book shut. Ignoring Kaveh was not the way to go and his chest was starting to ache. Unfortunately for him, the roots were starting to shift again.

“What good would it have done me? I planned on getting rid of it the moment I found out, my plans simply got derailed by my workload.” Alhaitham finally took the glass of water from where Kaveh had dropped it off and emptied it halfway. The liquid did little to soothe his raw throat and only made him more aware of the problem at hand. “There's no need to make my problem another one of your countless concerns.”

“But…! I could’ve…”

“Done absolutely nothing. The disease is still in the early stages and very treatable. No need to lose sleep over it,” Alhaitham threw in. Quickly, he lifted his arm and coughed into the crook of his elbow. It was quite the uncomfortable feeling, but at least there was no blood this time around.

Kaveh watched him intently and opened his mouth, his words carefully considered. “Well then, will you at least tell me who caused it? You can’t fault me for being curious about what kind of person it takes to unfreeze your stony heart.” It was obvious from his crossed arms to the tight line of his lips that he was feeling bothered by the topic at hand.

Alhaitham’s answer was lying on the tip of his tongue, ready to dart out and cause mayhem. However before he could retort, he was hit by another coughing fit, quickly followed by a sudden wave of dizziness. This time, he was forced to cough harder and for much longer. When he breathed in, there was a rumbling in his chest that he knew far too well. He dropped his book and placed one hand against the mattress to straighten his back and steady himself when suddenly, a thick stream of blood started to run down his nose. Alhaitham coughed again, one hand darting up to cover both his nose and mouth for damage control. The glass of water tipped over and shattered on the ground.

“Oh gods, did I make you think of them? I wasn’t-” Kaveh looked towards the door, eyes wide with panic. “Doesn’t matter,” he chided himself before hurrying towards the door and sticking his head out into the hallway. “Doctor! We need a doctor in here!”

“I’m fine,” Alhaitham said slowly, his voice muffled by the hand he was still holding over his nose. The blood was dripping down his hand and a droplet escaped, dirtying the white sheets.

“What do you mean you’re fine?! You're bleeding! Shut it and leave the assessment to the experts!” Kaveh hurried over to Alhaitham’s side, his steps hurried yet certain as he began digging through his pockets. Finally, he pulled out a clean handkerchief and leaned down. With one hand, he pulled Alhaitham’s hand away from his face and quickly pressed the handkerchief under his nose instead. His grip on Alhaitham's hand was as reassuring as it was painful and Alhaitham just let him do as he pleased, far too aware of the way Kaveh’s thumb pressed into his palm. The warmth of his hand was soothing against the coldness of his own digits.

A minute passed until Kaveh cleared his throat. “Let them do their job, get the surgery and come back home,” he mumbled. “You've never been one to hesitate.” It was uttered so softly Alhaitham wouldn’t have been able to make it out if it weren’t for their close proximity.

“Look out Kaveh, you almost sounded worried there,” Alhaitham teased, earning him a vexed look. “People might start to think you care for me. We can’t have that now, can we?”

Kaveh pressed the handkerchief harder against Alhaitham’s nose, who shut his eyes tight and made a small sound in response.

“You are infuriating,” Kaveh simply replied. “But for the sake of your health we’ll continue this discussion once you’re feeling better again.”

“Will we now? How kind of you.”

Kaveh took a deep breath. “I am trying to be the bigger person here, so stop trying to rile me up!”

Alhaitham almost had to laugh out loud when the realization hit him. Just like everyone else, Kaveh too was certain he would simply get the roots removed, willing to move on with his life as if nothing ever happened. As if he would never even consider any other choice. And why would anyone assume otherwise? Alhaitham rarely ever portrayed himself to be sentimental or particularly romantic. He was rarely perceived as what could be considered a regular human being. A cold man devoid of emotion, driven purely by undeniable logic, that's what they called him. Of course everyone would assume he’d simply rid himself of the ability to love at the drop of a hat.

Alhaitham lifted his head and mustered Kaveh, taking note of the vibrant colour of his eyes, committing them to memory. “The surgery,” he started, allowing truth to bleed through his words. “Let’s play devil's advocate and assume I come back changed, different. What would you do then?”

Kaveh tilted his head and lifted an eyebrow. “Because of the love thing? Come on Alhaitham, it’s not like you’ve ever had any of that left for me. Or anyone else, if we’re being honest now.” Kaveh threw him a small smile. “What are you doing, trying to discuss rhetoric with me? You’ll be fine. Not even a disease like this could change your ill temper. You'll be right back to your regular unbearable self.” He dappled the tissue under Alhaitham's nose again and sighed when it still came back bloody. For a moment, Alhaitham selfishly allowed himself to be fretted over.

They were interrupted by the door being pushed open and finally, a doctor entered the room.

“You called?”

“Thank god! Yes, I did. I don’t know what happened, he suddenly started coughing and bleeding from his nose again!“

The doctor mustered Alhaitham over the top of his moon-shaped glasses. “Let me take a look, Sir. Please, step aside.”

“Of course!” Quickly, Kaveh pulled back. His hands were hanging by his sides, now useless, the bloodied handkerchief crumpled up in his fist. Kaveh found himself unsure of what to do now that he couldn't help anymore, but found himself even more so unable to step away.

The doctor took out a stethoscope, pushing it past the hospital gown against Alhaitham's chest. While he listened to his breathing, he threw Kaveh a quick glance. “Spouse?”

“Who? Me?!” Kaveh’s eyes were darting from Alhaitham to the doctor and back. “No, I'm his…” The awkwardness hung heavy in the air when he paused to think. “I’m his…”

“Friend,” Alhaitham offered. “He's an old friend.”

Kaveh's eyes widened and the doctor simply nodded. “Please leave the room then. I would like to go over the treatment plan with the patient now. I can assure you that for now, he is doing okay. He’s in capable hands after all.”

Kaveh took an uncertain step away from them. “Of course,” he said politely. Then, he threw Alhaitham one last look and opened his mouth before closing it again.

“Go home, Kaveh.”

After having taken several steps towards the door, he turned around one last time. “You get well soon,” he finally settled on before leaving.

Alhaitham turned towards the doctor. A bone-stirring cough rippled through his body as soon as the door had fallen shut again. After a moment, he managed to calm his breathing. “Well. What's the plan, doctor?”

The doctor threw Alhaitham a knowing look before putting aside the stethoscope and reaching for Alhaitham's chart, thumbing through page after page. “I come with good news. We can squeeze you in for an early appointment to get the roots cleared tomorrow. Of course we'd explain the whole procedure in detail to you beforehand, but I assume you're familiar with the side effects of the surgery already? Nausea, brain fog, difficulties breathing, numbing of emotions towards the illness's source.”

Alhaitham propped himself up further and stared at the wall opposite him, slowly following all the little cracks and bumps with his eyes as he came to his final decision. “That won’t be necessary,” he said slowly. “I changed my mind. I’m not doing it.”

The doctor’s expression was a mask, cool and undisturbed, still like a painting. He opened his mouth. “Sir, it’s a rather safe procedure, are you certain that-”

“I am very certain. I am perfectly aware of the repercussions, so there's no need to explain them to me again.”

“As your doctor I have a duty-”

“That I’m relieving you of. I will agree to stay another two days for monitoring, but that is all I will allow to happen. I'm not getting the procedure, that is my final decision.” Alhaitham crossed his arms and let his gaze wander. Now that he'd put his decision out in the world, for a moment he felt a certain kind of serenity soothe his mind. A bird flew past the window and for Alhaitham the conversation was over, buried five feet under.

There was nothing beautiful about death. Undeniably, it would be a painful affair for him, while others were rewarded a quick ending instead. Perhaps someone as romantically inclined as Kaveh would be able to find a kind of beauty in it that Alhaitham’s pragmatic mind was unable to see. This thought was as much a joke as it was a lifeline to him.

When Alhaitham was released from the hospital, he felt worse for wear. There was little the doctors could do without his consent for the surgery, so they'd surveyed his state, estimated the time he had left and given him pain-soothing meds. He had a month, maybe three left if he was lucky and were to keep his distance. Considering how Kaveh was his roommate and around him more often than not, he assumed one month was the more realistic estimation out of the two.

One month. One month was all he had left to keep living with Kaveh. One more month of arming his words with jabs and pricks, since that was the only language Kaveh trusted enough to remain in place, his need to run satiated by carrot and stick.

Alhaitham was standing in front of their front door, key in hand. For a moment, he pondered about what to say, how to explain a decision that would seem idiotic to anyone who couldn't take a peek inside his mind. Would Kaveh come to accept it or would he start yelling at him for his stubbornness?

Eventually, Alhaitham lifted his key, ready to unlock the door and let himself in. Just as he was about to do so, the door swung open by itself and he was pulled inside, suddenly finding himself face to face with his frazzled looking roommate.

Kaveh's hair was a mess and the bags under his eyes were deep-set and more pronounced than usual. Presumably, he'd spent the night chipping away at another one of his projects, desperate to hit an impossible deadline just so he didn’t have to ask for an extension. He mustered Alhaitham from head to toe, his hands planted firmly on his shoulders. “You don't look all that different,” he said in lieu of a greeting, sounding a bit out of breath.

“A good morning to you too,” Alhaitham replied as he pushed past him. “Well, what did you expect me to look like? I'm curious, enlighten me.” He walked over to the kitchen and sat down. There was a pot of coffee already waiting for him and he poured himself a generous amount. Kaveh must have prepared it for him.

The chair scraped roughly against the kitchen floor as Kaveh pulled it back to sit down next to him. Without having to look, Alhaitham already knew he was watching him, head cocked and leaning on one hand, his gaze probing. “Why are you asking me that? Didn’t I ask you a question? Just answer me!”

Alhaitham sipped on his coffee. It wasn't bitter enough. Kaveh rarely ever used enough beans, insisting on how the package would last longer that way. Sometimes Alhaitham would end up using more beans than usual, thus eradicating all of Kaveh’s efforts. They’d had the same argument over it for the past six months.

When Kaveh realized that he had no intent to answer him, he sighed loudly. His tone softened and he put his right hand flat onto the table, leaning forward ever so slightly. “I guess you just look… more tired than usual.” There was uncertainty in his eyes. “Are you alright?”

Alhatham scoffed as he watched Kaveh from behind his coffee cup. “I couldn’t be better.“

“You just got out of major surgery! How could you be fine? Why did they think it was a good idea to release you this early to begin with?!”

Alhaitham took another sip and decided to let Kaveh’s assumption remain incorrect. He shouldn't have to burden himself with the knowledge that Alhaitham’s time was running out with every touch, every breath shared in the same vicinity. Kaveh had already carried enough burdens for a lifetime.

He didn't know how much more his sturdy shoulders could take.

“Well,” he started. “A feeling of fatigue was to be expected, but I should be good to go in no time. I believe Lesser Lord Kusanali has been waiting for me already. It seems like the Sage’s seat has remained empty for the time being.”

Kaveh shifted his head to the other side as if a new angle would give him some fresh insight into Alhaitham‘s mind. Finally, he tutted his teeth.

“Aren't you the one who always insists that I shouldn't overwork myself? But when you do it it's suddenly fine. Ugh, whatever! Why should I spend even more energy worrying about someone who doesn't even appreciate it! Your dismissive behaviour drives me up the wall!“

He stormed out of the room and Alhaitham coughed into the crook of his elbow.

This was how he wanted to remember Kaveh. Emotional, short-tempered when in Alhaitham’s presence, and most of all, free from the burden of Alhaitham’s feelings on his conscience. After all, solely Alhaitham could be blamed for them. In combination with his uncanny bluntness, they were the only thing keeping Kaveh by his side. It would have to do. Alhaitham thought back to the way Kaveh’s eyes widened when he called him his friend and coughed harder. It would simply have to do.

Alhaitham shot up from his bed, his forehead beading with sweat and his heart thumping viciously. The dream he'd just awoken from hadn't been a nightmare per se, but had been uncalled for nonetheless. It was an unruly thing, incomprehensible and jumpy in nature. Visions of carmine eyes and blonde hair were still fresh in his mind, haunting both waking and sleeping hours. This wasn't the first time he'd dreamed of Kaveh, and realistically speaking, it wouldn't be the last time.

It seemed like not even his dreams were kind enough to spare him from what he could never attempt to pursue.

Was sharing a home not enough? He'd certainly hoped it would be.

Slowly, Alhaitham sat up. He was nauseous. An unhinged part of his brain tried to urge him to get up and cross the distance between their rooms so he could wake Kaveh and ask to be cared for and pampered before it was too late. This, however, he would never attempt.

So Alhaitham rose from his bed and went to the bathroom instead. After several handfuls of water, he lifted his head from the sink, pearls of water dripping down his chin. His reflection in the mirror looked quite the mess.

For a moment, he imagined Kaveh would walk up to him and hug him from behind, his lips a whisper against the nape of his neck. But that was all it was, wishful thinking. Slowly, he gritted his teeth, one hand rising to rub the hallucinations out of his eyes. Alhaitham felt his lungs tighten again. He lowered his hand until it came to cover his mouth and took a deep breath through his nose. His skin felt sickly warm against the palm of his hand.

It would take him several hours until he was able to return to his room again.

There was a knock on their front door.

“Alhaitham! Door!” Kaveh shouted from his room. “The door! Go get it!”

Alhaitham was sitting on the bathroom floor, one hand gripping onto the sink as he spilled flowers and leaves into the toilet bowl, quiet enough for Kaveh to miss. Their guest would have to wait. It's not like he was expecting anyone, so it was really their fault for arriving without prior notice. His nose was bleeding again and even paper towels did little to stop the flow.

“Alhaitham! You know damn well I-” He could hear Kaveh cursing quietly, followed by hurried steps crossing the living room. The sound of their front door being opened came shortly after.

“Hello? Oh! It's you! What are you doing here?”

A voice Alhaitham could barely make out, followed by quick conversation.

“I'll go get him, come on in.” Kaveh again.

Alhaitham spit the remaining bits of petals into the bowl and flushed them down. He wiped the blood off to his best abilities before opening the bathroom door. He almost collided with Kaveh, who already had one hand raised ready to knock. His hair was pulled into a makeshift ponytail and there were streaks of paint splattered all over his face.

“You have a visitor,” he said, slightly out of breath. “He's waiting in the living room.” Kaveh took a quick look at Alhaitham and his expression dropped. “Alhaitham, you-”

Alhaitham nodded and pushed past him without saying another word, hoping the scent of flowers wasn't clinging to his skin. The scent seemed to be permanently stuck in his nose, inescapable and nauseating.

Kaveh threw him a searching look before slowly retreating towards his own room again. If he wanted to comment on Alhaitham's silent refusal to get the door, he most definitely pushed it aside for when they were alone again.

When Alhaitham entered the living room, he was faced with someone he'd never expected to see infiltrating the comfort of his home.

“Well, well, well. Look who’s still kicking. Acting Grand Sage, how has the surgery been treating you? Not all that well considering how you haven't actually gone through with it,” the young man taunted. He was lounging on one of the divans, one arm leaning against the backrest, his hat discarded on his lap and his head tipped back, never one to sugarcoat his words.

Alhaitham's mood soured on impact. “Wanderer. Did Lesser Lord Kusanali send you?”

In the grand scheme of things, Wanderer was something akin to a coworker once removed, as they had been made to work together under Nahida’s kind rule numerous times before.

“What do you think? That I came for the ravishing talks and your enjoyable personality? I believe you're aware that I’m not one for pleasantries.”

“No one is forcing you to be here. The door is right there. I’d offer you tea, but I really don't see why i should do that.”

“Don't bother, Grand Sage.”

“Acting Grand Sage,” Alhaitham threw in.

“I'm only here to survey your state and give Nahida a report. She has also given me a message to deliver.”

“And what would that be?”

“Stop screwing around,” Wanderer said, his gaze probing.

“Your words, not hers, I assume?” Alhaitham retorted. “Well, you can tell her that this is none of her business regardless.”

A frown, snarky and cold, made its way onto Wanderer’s face. “You think Nahida doesn't care that her favourite little pawn has set off on a suicide mission for the sake of love? It’s almost charming how far you underestimate her levels of meddling.” Wanderer let himself fall back onto the divan, his eyes set on the ceiling. “To think that you of all people would fall for such lowly affections. Maybe you are more ordinary than first expected after all.” He blew out a breath of air and rolled his eyes. “How boring.”

Alhaitham crossed his arms and stared down at Wanderer, who was staring right back up at him. Neither said another word.

Wanderer was the first to break the silence. “You really think your little architect will reciprocate your feelings before it's too late? Are you dense or just stupid? Fate is rarely known to be generous.”

“It's quite easy, actually. I don't,” he answered, his voice firm with conviction. “Are you finished now?”

“As finished as you'll soon be.” A short bark escaped the Wanderer’s lips and Alhaitham realized belatedly that the sound must've been laughter.

“There are many people after you. If they find out how impaired you really are, pray tell what will happen then? Count yourself warned.” A moment passed by and he sat upright again, tutting his teeth. “Perhaps this is farewell, Grand Sage? And by the way, you reek of mourning flowers. Do something about it.”

With that he jumped up and headed for the door. He turned around one last time, his hand hovering near the doorknob. “I never took you for a fool, but it seems I was wrong.”

“And you are invested in human affairs since when?”

“I am not. I simply do as I’m told.”

With that, he left. As soon as the door fell shut, Alhaitham heard Kaveh emerge from his room again. He peered past the doorway and mustered Alhaitham with crossed arms.

“What was that about? I didn't think you had anything to do with that guy after the Interdarshan Championships passed.”

“Lesser Lord Kusanali sent him,” Alhaitham explained shortly.

Kaveh's eyebrows knit together in confusion. “You're trying to tell me Lesser Lord Kusanali sent Hat Guy? Have you taken leave of your senses?”

“Oh, you didn't know? He's her little henchman.”

Kaveh's mouth fell open in surprise. “And you didn't think to tell me?! For how long have you- You know what, nevermind! I won't even bother!” Kaveh shook his head and pushed his fists into his hips. “Well, what did he want?”

“Nahida sent him to check up on my recovery. I told him I'm fine.”

“Are you though?” The words came out clipped, but Kaveh's eyes looked strangely honest. “Are you really fine, Alhaitham? You were pale as a ghost when you left the bathroom.”

“Why shouldn't I be?” he replied casually, his tone nonchalant. Then, he decided to poke the bear. “Maybe you should worry about yet another person having found out about your living arrangements rather than think about trivialities.”

Kaveh’s eyes widened and he leaned back a bit. “You think he'd tell?!” His voice rose several pitches and his cheeks turned lively. It was fun seeing him huff and puff.

“He is quite the malicious soul. Who knows what he might do,” he finally concluded as he leaned his chin against his hand, the slight pull of the corner of his mouth hidden behind his hand. The teasing seemed to serve its purpose. Kaveh breathed in deeply, one accusing finger lifted to go off at his roommate. Alhaitham tasted mourning flowers on his tongue as he slipped on his soundproof earpieces, carefully massaging his sternum.

Whatever insult Kaveh chose to hurl his way was drowned out by the familiar sound of pink noise.

Alhaitham was sorting through proposal after proposal, putting the scarce good ones on a pile to his left, the insultingly bad ones on a pile to his right. Work today was quiet, mundane. Nobody had tried to push their bad proposal in person just yet, which was a win in his books. He was glad to be able to do what was expected from him as the Akademiya’s Scribe rather than be stuck in another stuffy meeting representing the Acting Grand Sage. Alternating between the jobs was demanding, yet exactly what he needed to keep his thoughts clear and his mind occupied.

The brain fog caused by his illness was quickly starting to become an issue. Hiding it however, was an easy affair as Kaveh chose to interpret his newfound forgetfulness as deliberate malice. After all, deceiving someone who tended to find hostility and ill will in each and every one of your actions was quite the simple feat.

The roots in his chest shifted slowly, painfully and he rubbed his collarbone. Alhaitham opened yet another proposal, the letter opener cutting through the envelope smoothly. As he pulled out a letter instead of a proposal sticking to the strict Akademiya guidelines, all correct fonts and paragraph spacings, he stopped in his tracks. There were letters, taken from newspaper cuttings, spelling out two simple sentences.

“Do not consider yourself safe, Grand Sage. Our eyes are everywhere, and they are trained on you.” There was a photo attached to it with a paperclip. The picture was a snapshot, presumably taken of him right as he left the Bimarstan, patient file in hand. Alhaitham sighed as he put down both letter and photo, turning them over to look for any hint that could tip him off as to who had sent the threatening letter. There was nothing else to take note of. He leaned his head against his hand and sighed.

Although he hated to admit it, it seemed like Wanderer had been right after all. For a moment, Alhaitham considered bringing it to Nahida, but swiftly decided against it. He would deal with this by himself. Unnecessary coddling and worrying was the last thing he needed right now. All he wanted to do was go home and enjoy a cup of coffee brewed too lightly.

The roots in his lungs had been behaving quite well today. Perhaps the distance to Kaveh was what his body relished in, yet his mind failed to strive for after all. A quick look at the clock told him that finally, it was time to leave. Alhaitham pulled on his coat, the proposals long forgotten on the table already, delayed for yet another day to come. After a moment of consideration, he pocketed the letter. This was an issue for another day, yet he couldn't risk his replacement finding it.

Alhaitham was quick to leave his office on time before anybody could even think about bothering him past his work hours.

The bazaar was bustling with the sounds of the people of Sumeru, excited with the end of corporate hours and the beginning of their dearly awaited free time, accompanied by the cooling winds of night.

Alhaitham’s walking slowed as he passed a stall selling little trinkets, decorative items that would look good against the backdrop of his library. If he were to buy one or two, Kaveh would certainly have a fit. A smile lingered on his lips as he considered taking a little wood carving home to add to his collection. He turned it over in his hands and came to the conclusion that Kaveh would despise it. Alhaitham pulled out his coin pouch and rewarded the seller accordingly. As soon as the transaction was complete and the wood carving safely stored away, his chest tightened and a wet cough broke free, only suppressed by his elbow pressed tightly against his mouth to muffle the sounds. The vendor threw him a worried look.

Alhaitham’s breathing refused to calm. As soon as he tasted blood on his tongue, he retreated into a deserted alley where he would be free to cough his heart out. It wasn't pretty, but he’d certainly had worse attacks. There was a flower stuck in his throat, and he found himself struggling for air. Only removing it would soothe his bruised lungs. When he finally managed to pull it free it fell to the ground with a loud splat. Finally, he was able to breathe again.

“Well look at this,” a voice suddenly growled, rough yet quiet. “If it isn't the Grand Sage.”

He felt something sharp press into his side.

“So the rumours are true, you are sick after all.”

“Perhaps you shouldn't occupy yourself with the people's talk so much if you still don't know that I am not more than the Acting Grand Sage,” Alhaitham replied coolly.

“Cocky, aren't we? Let's see how long that will last.” The woman leaned closer, her lips inches away from Alhaitham's ear. Her whisper was callous, cruel. She smelled like earth and gunpowder. “Maybe we’ll go to your home and pay that precious little architect friend of yours a visit right after. I wonder if he bleeds red just like the rest of us.”

Although his expression did not show it, Alhaitham's blood ran cold. “You're really insistent on ruining my evening, aren't you? Guess I'll have to make things uncomfortable for you now too.”

The woman pushed the knife harder against his side and Alhaitham could feel it breaking skin. Apparently, she didn't appreciate his answer very much. Perhaps she'd expected a more fearful response.

“Ambush him!” she then yelled, her eyes never leaving Alhaitham to stand unsupervised. There was a sudden and sharp push against his abdomen as the woman darted forward.

All of a sudden, five other people emerged from the shadows.

Treasure Hoarders.

Alhaitham spat out a mouthful of blood before he summoned his swords and straightened his stance.

Slowly, Alhaitham lifted his key to the lock, his hand straining under the effort of trying to keep the shaking to a minimum.

The fight had been long and unfair, as fights in Sumeru often tended to be. If Alhaitham had been at the peak of his health, perhaps he wouldn't have gotten hurt. Now, his abdomen felt like someone had tried to set it aflame. There was nothing more than a single door keeping him separated from the safety of his own home where he’d finally be able to patch himself up in peace. The knowledge that Kaveh wouldn't be there to witness his pitiful arrival soothed at least one of his ever mutiplying worries. It was Friday night and there was no way he'd miss the happy hour at Lambad’s Tavern, not when Tighnari and Cyno had invited them both out. Naturally, Alhaitham had been quick to decline, leaving Kaveh to go by himself.

Finally, he managed to unlock the door and stumbled inside. While one hand remained pressed to his abdomen, he was using the other to lean onto the wall for support. Alhaitham breathed out through his nose and braced himself for the pain that was certain to follow. He straightened his back and pushed himself up again, clenching his teeth. After he managed to pull the door shut, his ring of keys slipped from his hold. The sound it made when hitting the ground echoed through the entire house.

“Alhaitham?” With a click, the light turned on and Alhaitham found himself standing face to face with Kaveh, who was right in front of him with crossed arms and an unreadable expression. He was wearing a tank top covered in splashes of paint and a smear of green ran across his cheek. Alhaitham had the sudden urge to trace it with his fingertips, smudge it against his cheekbone down towards the corner of his mouth. Perhaps that was the blood loss speaking after all. It seemed like Kaveh hadn’t noticed the state he was in just yet, and he’d prefer to keep it that way.

For once, Alhaitham had nothing to say, so he simply ignored his roommate and walked further into the room.

“Where have you been?” Kaveh’s voice echoed through the hall. His tone was guarded and for once, Alhaitham couldn’t take it. He simply passed his roommate, one hand ghosting past his shoulder for the smallest of moments. His knuckles brushed over the bone connecting Kaveh’s shoulder to his collarbone. “Work,” he replied curtly. The word came out sounding much more quiet than intended. Alhaitham couldn't tell anymore how much time had passed between Kaveh’s question and his answer. The blood loss was making his head dizzy, his thoughts uncharacteristically jumbled. Hopefully, Kaveh would be too invested in his project to notice.

Before he could pass him, Kaveh’s hand wrapped around his wrist, successfully pulling it away from his abdomen. “Hey. You really think I’d believe you of all people would be putting in the work when you’re already off the clock? Try again.”

“I don’t recall being obligated to report my whereabouts to you.”

Kaveh tutted his tongue. “You don’t think I can tell that something is going on? I know y-”

Now that there was nothing left to stop the bleeding, it began to drip further down until it hit the ground. Without wanting to, Alhaitham’s gaze followed the traces it left. Kaveh stopped in his tracks, his eyes wandering down towards the ground as well. For a second, neither of them moved. Kaveh’s eyes wandered up to Alhaitham’s face and his lips parted in shock.

“This is..” Before he could finish his sentence, Alhaitham began to falter. Thankfully, Kaveh was quick enough to support him before he could hit the ground. “What the hell! What happened?!”

“Small wound. Hardly worth mention- ugh!” Alhaitham doubled over and Kaveh slid one arm around his back to pull him further up.

“What do you mean hardly worth mentioning, you're bleeding profusely! Come on, let's get you to the bathroom.”

One hand closed around Kaveh's bicep. “It's fine,” he grunted out.

“Fine my ass. Do you really want me to start discussing semantics with you now?!”

Alhaitham made a noncommittal noise in reply and let himself be led. Not that he had much of a choice now that the cat was out of the bag.

Once they reached the bathroom Kaveh carefully lowered him onto the ground, propping him up against the side of the bathtub. He turned on the light and rummaged through one of the cabinets for their first aid supplies.

When he turned back around again, Alhaitham’s head was tilted towards the ceiling, his breathing heavy.

“Hey.” Kaveh snapped his fingers to get his roommate's attention. “Show me the wound.”

Wordlessly, Alhaitham shrugged his coat aside to reveal the deep stab wound. “It's not that bad-”

Kaveh pushed the palm of his hand against his forehead, applying pressure. “Not as bad?! Take it off.”

“Take what off? You have got to be more specific.”

“Your shirt. Off with it.”

Alhaitham was feeling more loopy with every second that passed. “Do it for me if you need it off that badly.” A small smile spread over his lips. It was easier to taunt than to admit that he was very close to passing out and couldn't handle the wound by himself.

“You are infuriating,” Kaveh murmured, an annoyed tone to his voice as he grabbed the underside of Alhaitham's shirt and carefully pulled it up. It made a squelching sound when he pulled it past the deep gash and Kaveh flinched.

“Lift your arms.”

Alhaitham did as he was told and not soon after, he was sitting shirtless, the cold air of the night almost soothing where it hit his sickly warm skin.

“Good grief,” Kaveh mumbled, letting his fingertips run along Alhaitham's torso. “This isn't just a small nick, somebody stabbed you!”

Kaveh's eyes went from the wound back to their first aid kit. “I have to call Tighnari,” he decided quickly. Strangely, it seemed like he was starting to panic.

“It's the middle of the night.”

“And he's our best bet. He's at Cyno’s right now. You stay right here.”

With that, Kaveh was gone. The afterthought of his fingertips still lingered against Alhaitham's skin and he sighed. Slowly, he looked down. The wound was angry and red, the memory of a rusty dagger sliding in still fairly vivid in his mind. Carefully, he tried to prop himself up. When the pain had him doubling over and the wound leaked even more blood, he gave up.

Kaveh returned a few minutes later, the look in his eyes panicked as he quickly washed and disinfected his hands before turning back around to his roommate. He pressed one hand against Alhaitham's cheek. The touch felt soothing against his clammy skin and he pressed his cheek into it.

“I need you to lie down,” Kaveh mumbled and Alhaitham noticed the way his hands were shaking like leaves.

Kaveh grabbed onto his shoulders and pulled him down slowly, carefully. He shielded the back of his head with his hand to prevent any further injuries. Once he was down, he pushed a pillow under Alhaitham's feet to elevate them.

Alhaitham looked up at him. “You surely do realize this is all unnecessary?” he wheezed out.

“Just stop talking,” Kaveh answered, teeth clenched as he put on a pair of gloves. “I'm going to apply pressure to your wound,” he said in warning.

Alhaitham let out a groan as Kaveh's hand pushed against the sensitive skin. “Playing nurse, are we? Perhaps you missed your calling after all.”

“I’ll kill you once you feel better again.”

“Oh, I believe you will.” The words slipped out of his mouth as he had no intention of keeping them there. There was no way for Kaveh to know just how right he was.

“What's that supposed to mean?!”

Slowly, Alhaitham closed his eyes, letting out a shallow breath. “Nothing for you to worry about,” he mumbled to himself.”

“Oh god, you're dying. The Alhaitham I know would never say something like that. How many fingers am I holding up?”

Quickly, Kaveh lifted his hand. Alhaitham let out a ragged breath and lifted his own hand shakily as well, tapping his pointer against each and every finger. “Five,” he answered, then intertwined his fingers with Kaveh’s before he even had the chance to realise what was going on.

There was one good thing about bleeding out from a stab wound: For once, Alhaitham didn't feel the strain in his lungs as his breathing was shallow regardless. He opened his eyes again and thought that if he were to make it through the night, he would most certainly regret a lot of the things he said while on the brink of unconsciousness.

Kaveh's left hand was still putting pressure on the wound, while the right was all Alhaitham's. He pulled it closer to his chest and held it right where his lungs tended to strain the most. A small smile ran past his lips and unexpectedly, he began to laugh until the sound turned into several bloody coughs. It was a weak thing, and Kaveh startled.

“Just hold on a little longer, I- I've got you,” he said, tightening his grip on Alhaitham's hand where he kept it pressed against his chest, his voice breaking. “Wait, I think I heard something. That must be Tighnari, just-”

Alhaitham's world faded to black. The last thing he saw were Kaveh’s glassy eyes, flitting nervously from side to side. When he opened his mouth again, the words he was trying to convey remained unheard.

When Alhaitham came back to his senses, his body felt heavy and sluggish.There was a familiar weight pressed against his side, which would at least explain why he was feeling particularly weighed down. Slowly, he opened his eyes.

To his left was a window. It was currently dark out, the room illuminated by several small candles. In the warm light, the next thing he saw was a golden head of hair by his side, knocked out cold on the mattress. Kaveh was still kneeling on the ground, however his upper body was draped across the mattress, his cheek resting against Alhaitham's thigh. One of his hands was wrapped around his wrist, the hold on Alhaitham's hand warm and reassuring. Alhaitham didn't understand how anyone could fall asleep in a position like that in the first place.

Slowly, he let his gaze drop. His stomach was wrapped in clean bandages and through the heavy veil of medicine, he reached out his hand. His chest ached with a want he had grown used to over the years. Today however, it seemed to be particularly strong.

Alhaitham reached out and put his free hand on top of Kaveh's head, rubbing it from left to right and effectively messing up his hair. Kaveh awoke with a grumble, his cheek now squished even closer against Alhaitham's thigh as he turned his head, his eyes still shut tight. “What do you think you're doing?” he grumbled. “Hands off.” He lazily swatted at Alhaitham’s hand, then raised his head frantically when he finally came back to his senses.

“You're awake!” he exclaimed.

Alhaitham pressed his hand further against Kaveh's head, rubbing it from side to side again as he complained. Kaveh grabbed his hand by the wrist and lifted his head, cheeks red and eyes glistening. “You! I have some choice words for you! What were you thinking?!” His pointer was placed right over Alhaitham's pulse point and he was certain if he were to pay proper attention to it, he would be able to feel it thrumming against his skin. Wildly, vividly, longingly.

“It wasn't as bad as you make it out to be. Let's not act like this is the first time I've been stabbed.”

“Not as bad?!” His voice rose several octaves. “You were delirious from blood loss! You could've died!! You could be dead now you stupid ape of a man and you would’ve bled out on our living room floor!”

Another voice joined him, much calmer in tone. “Kaveh, calm down and let him live. You still have ample time to hold this over his head.” Tighnari entered the room, the expression on his face bemused. “Alhaitham,” he said in lieu of a greeting.

“How are you feeling?”

Kaveh rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes angrily.

Alhaitham nodded his head. “Considering the circumstances, I'm feeling fine.”

Kaveh dropped his hand again to pinch the bridge of his nose instead. “Tighnari! He has lost all senses, say something to him,” he forced out, irritation barely hidden.

At a second glance, Kaveh looked exhausted. His eyes were puffy and his hair was a mess. The clothes he was wearing were unfamiliar, consisting of dark pants and a loose blouse that Tighnari and Cyno had probably lent to him.

Tighnari walked over to the fully stocked shelves and grabbed a vial of dark ointment.

“I'm sure you can do that perfectly well for me, considering how I'm putting him on bedrest until further notice.”

Alhaitham raised an eyebrow. “Now why would that be necessary?”

Before Kaveh could open his mouth again, Tighari returned to them, a finger lifted. “It's necessary,” he unwrapped the bandages to expose the gnarly cut. “Because you just got stabbed. That's your first reason right there. The second reason would be because the knife barely missed your liver. You should be grateful you made it out alive. That's plenty of reasons if you ask me.”

It seemed like his diagnosis wasn't news to Kaveh. While tightening his hold on Alhaitham's hand, he shot him an indecipherable look and nodded. “He will rest Tighnari, I’ll make sure of that.”

“Not if you end up breaking my hand as well.”

Kaveh gasped and turned back around to Tighnari, dropping Alhaitham's hand as if it were hot coal. “Do you see how he behaves around me? This is what I’m always talking about!”

A deep sigh left Tighnari's lips. “Kaveh…” he simply said before turning back around to his bottles and tinctures.

Alhaitham raised an eyebrow at Kaveh and stuck out his tongue.

“Tighnari! You must’ve seen that!”

“How old are you two again?” He returned to Alhaitham and Kaveh, now several bottles in hand. “Here's his medicine. Just make sure he takes it and gets some proper rest.” When he found Kaveh still staring at Alhaitham, arms crossed, he repeated his name. “Kaveh.”

“Yes. I'll look after him.”

Perhaps, fate was trying to meddle in their affairs after all. Whether that would be a blessing or a curse, only time would be able to tell.

#fanfiction #my writing #genshin impact #haikaveh #kavetham #kaveh x alhaitham #angst #hurt/comfort #hanahaki disease #alhaitham gets stabbed #the usual #sorry for possibly shitty formatting this was posted on mobile

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the-bi-space-ace · 9 days

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The World Tumbles Down Chapter 4 - Separation

This chapter has some of my favorite moments so far. I love splitting them up. I don’t know what it is about it but it allows me to pick apart each of them without having to focus on too many of them at the same time. I love that. But I will say that I was incredibly insecure about this chapter for… some reason? I got really weird and in my head about it leading up to posting it. It definitely didn’t help that I’ve been planning the middle of the story and writing the drafts for that and I was having some confidence issues with those too. I feel so much better about all of it now but these past two weeks have been difficult for my writing confidence. Well! Moving on to what I actually want to say about this chapter!

Hunter being alone and being able to give his thoughts a chance to connect is great to me. He isn’t totally on board here and we’re going to see that come back later on. He’s going with it while it seems like a more reasonable mission and he’s trying to be supportive to Echo as much as he can. He knows how personal this is getting for Echo, Rex, and Cody and he’s going along with everything. For now. We’ll see how bad things have to get before he’s ready to pack the Marauder and run.

The Tech and Trick conversation is actually something I added because I felt like Tech needed some attention. He’s put up with a lot lately and we’ve gotten some glimpses at how he’s going throughout the series but never really something this focused on him. Trick is a great person to pull this out of him. He’s persistent but not unkind. He’s blunt, rational, and knows how to play whatever he needs to to get someone to talk. Tech has been on edge since the first fic when he saved Echo’s life and he’s never truly recovered from it. Everything else since then has just piled up. Him protecting Echo and deleting the footage from the second fic with Wat Tambor was the right call and he certainly doesn’t regret doing it but he is getting irritated with how much the people around you can hide things. Important things! This’ll get resolved. It’ll take some time.

Now. Rex and Echo. Oof. The root of this problem is that Echo never wanted someone to make choices for him. He doesn’t respond well to this. Being protective is one thing. It’s something I think Echo understands well - this need to keep the people you care about safe. It’s another thing entirely to take away his choices, take away his ability to process his own emotions properly. Rex isn’t really ready to own up to that and Echo isn’t ready to forgive. It's a special kind of hurt with Rex. He can mend things with Cody in a way he can’t with Rex until he understands the gravity of what he did. Rex still lives in a place where he did what he had to do. He didn’t have much of a choice and that should be enough of an explanation. Truthfully he really didn’t have any good options but he did still make a choice and it took away a good bit of agency from Echo. It still hurt someone. That sucks. It’s a rock and a hard place. They aren’t ready to make up yet.

I get where Rex is coming from. He watched Echo die. He watched Fives die. He’s realized Fives was definitely right about something being fishy with the chips and is letting that guilt gnaw at him. He didn’t do this to be nasty. He did it because he cares and was afraid that he’d lose Echo in the same way he lost Fives if he didn’t keep it hidden. Even Cody in the last fic knew that this would end poorly because he was thinking about it from Echo’s perspective but Rex wasn’t even ready to confront it himself. His response to all of this has been poorly concealed unprocessed grief. It’s sticky. It’s messy. But it doesn’t make Rex a bad person. Good people still do things that hurt people they love and that is what’s happening here. What hurts worse is that Echo clearly wants to have what he and Rex had back. He wants to be normal again but that’s not as easy as just… being normal again. He wants to feel heard at the very least and he certainly doesn’t feel like that right now. This is an issue we’ll be picking apart for… many many chapters. I have so many plans for them.

Chapter 5 is one of the most emotional ones so far (oof how many times will I say that about a chapter) and I am actually incredibly proud of it. I’m excited to post it on Friday and share everything with you. The next few chapters are packed with heart, complicated emotions, and a very unfortunate event that is traumatic for everyone involved. We’re really in it now, fellas. Thanks for sticking with me <3

#calling me home #the world tumbles down #Ace's Debrief #the bad batch fanfiction #star wars fanfiction

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writtenonreceipts · 1 year

Note

6 for Elucien? ♥️

Continuation of the Hearts Entwined mini-series/oneshots I’ve worked on in the past. I hope you enjoy! And yes, between the last part and this, I changed tenses, again, I can’t explain it, I just couldn’t write the last part without it being present tense and then this part just came in past tense…and yeah. I think that’s the least of my problems though, all things considered.

Hearts Entwined // Hearts Unfurled // Hearts Unbound

AO3

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort at the end, but boyo we go through some stuff, depictions of violence and wounds/blood. Elain is slightly unhinged. ~4k words

Hearts Reforged

Silver starlight glinted through the air as Elain stood out on the terrace that overlooked the city. She had done what she could with her magic and her Seer abilities but in the end—all she was left with was darkness.

A chill still spread through her bones and her skin rose with bumps the longer she stood out here. But she couldn’t return inside. If she did, she would be met with pitying glances and forced attempts to calm her and coddle her.

Elain was a grown woman. Female. Whatever. She could take care of herself. She could think rationally and she could help figure out this problem. If only anyone would let her. No. All they would want her to do was sit primly while waiting for answers. Go bake something. Let Nuala and Cerridwen distract her.

She felt that tell-tale sign of rage pluck at her belly. She wanted to just be seen as something more than the sister who was delicate and special.

Elain fisted her hands.

Inside she could hear the others talking. Feyre’s daemati abilities still hadn’t been able to reach Cassian or Azriel. Nesta and Gwyn had felt nothing strange occur in their own mate bonds. There was nothing more to be done until Helion answered Rhysand’s message. Though, why the male didn’t just winnow to Day and demand answers, Elain didn’t know. If they would take her seriously and more than just a hysterical girl, she would have insisted such an action be taken.

Feyre had practically done just the same when she was in a fury, she nearly destroyed Spring. Nesta could threaten anyone she liked as long as she kept that cruel smile in place and promised to overthrow thrones. Not to mention what Rhys had done in his past.

Shaking her head, Elain tried breath normally. Now she was just laying useless blame. It was only a matter of time before she made petty jabs as well and what good would that do?

Running a hand over her face, Elain sighed. She was a Seer. She would find Lucien. The male might have been the bane of her existence but she would not see him come to harm. She couldn’t. She’d only just started to get to know him. She’d only just opened herself up to him.

She didn’t want to lose him. Not like this.

Elain tightened her thin satin robe over her night gown and returned to where the others were gathered.

Already, Nesta and the other Valkyries were dressed in their leathers. In the last year since completing the Blood Rite, the three women had initiated other members into their numbers. Training had proven fruitful and they were quickly becoming a well-seasoned group of fighters and protectors between the courts. They were not the kind of females to back down from a fight.

The rage turned to fear quite quickly in her gut. They couldn’t leave. Not until there was some idea of what had happened.

“We can go and see what happened,” Emerie was saying. Her wings, newly healed, stretched out behind her. “If anything, they’re holed up somewhere until danger passes.”

“Mor and I can winnow you as close to the border as we can,” Feyre added, “Rhys is still waiting on Helion.”

It would be death.

There would be blood.

Loss. Too much. The kind that you didn’t recover from. Even with all they’d already endured—if something happened to any of them, there would be no coming back.

“No,” Elain said. Her voice was soft, gentle as a spring rain. That unease churned until it was a tight coil.

All eyes turned to her.

“Elain,” Feyre began. She had a placating hand raised and that insufferable look she saved for Nyx in her eyes. “We know what we’re doing.”

“You’re walking to a death trap,” Elain said. “Don’t you see it?”

The looks everyone returned indicated that no, they did not. But how could they? They were perhaps just as worried as she and were finally wanting to find answers. But you did not find answers this way. Not when Elain still had something left she could do.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nesta replied. Her voice was sharp and even as those steel blue eyes narrowed in on Elain. “You’ve never been on a mission like this.”

But she had killed a man.

Sometimes, Elain was convinced there were still flecks of blood on her hands.

Before she could say anything more, Rhys spoke.

“Nesta’s right, we needed to figure out what has happened. Even if we go in slightly blind.” Rhys nodded to the Valkyries. “Helion has heard nothing. He is willing to provide assistance if needed, though.”

“No,” Elain said again, her voice a little firmer. “Going in blind will only lead to greater trials.”

“Elain, you don’t—” It was Feyre now, but Elain had had enough.

“Am I not a Seer? Will you not listen to me when I speak reason?” She asked. Over the last year and a half now they’d poked and prodded at her abilities, but never had they taken her seriously. Even now.

“You’re inexperienced,” Nesta said.

Elian smiled lightly. “Says you. You don’t honestly think I spend all my time baking bread, do you? Nuala and Cerridwen are excellent spies, but are too easy to slip away from sometimes.”

If the situation weren’t so charged with panic, Elain would have enjoyed the reactions of her family.

“Let me scry,” she said. “It’s the only thing left that we haven’t tried, I can do it.”

There was a beat of silence before everyone was speaking. Nesta and Feyre were loudest, of course, and Rhys was trying to reign the conversation in. Mor was intent on pointing out everything wrong with waiting more than they already have. Gwyn and Emerie were mostly talking to themselves, but the general consensus was against Elain.

“He’s my mate!” Elain’s voice cut through the cacophony of noise rather nicely.

Perhaps it was because Elain hardly ever raised her voice so loud or maybe there was a hint of magic in the air that curved along with her words. Either way, they were all listening to her now.

“He’s my mate,” Elain said again. “We already know Cassian and Azriel are fine, otherwise Nesta and Gwyn would have felt something. It is my mate that the bond—that he could—” she cut off, regaining herself. “It does not feel right to simply leave without knowing anything. I can feel it. I can practically taste it on the air. Leave now and we will know more pain than ever before.”

Her own magic, that Seer and Sight within her, hummed in her blood. It wasn’t prophecy. It wasn’t logic. But it was something heavy with power.

Rhysand and Feyre exchanged a look. Their silent communication lasted only a moment before Rhysand finally nodded.

“You know we don’t have time to waste, Elain,” Rhys said.

She cocked a brow. “Really?”

It didn’t take long to find a scrying bowl and place it on the large oak table in the center of the room. As she tied her hair back to remain out of the way, Elain promptly ignored Nesta trying once again to talk her out of this.

Elain knew how terrible Nesta’s own scrying experience had been. She understood and appreciated her sister’s concern, but she needed to do this. Not just to find out where the males were but what had happened to the bond.

It was disconcerting how cold her heart had become. Elain had grown used to the warm little thread that had tucked itself around her that now that it was gone or dormant or whatever—she wouldn’t stop until she had an answer.

Curling her fingers around the bowl, Elain breathed deeply through her nose.

“We’re pulling you out after five minutes,” Rhys told her. “We can’t delay long then that.”

“Nothing’s changed with our bonds,” Nesta said quietly, “but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”

Elain nodded to acknowledge that she’d heard them and then she tipped her head into the scrying bowl.

…

It started with darkness.

Pure and heavy.

Darkness that caressed her body, her soul, and then slowly began clawing at her eyes. It was so gentle like that and Elain wondered what would happen should that darkness continue.

Her body jolted and she was tumbling through nothing. Nothing but air. Her senses were muted that she could hardly even feel the wind around her nor the cloying presence of that blackness. She was moving without direction or guidance and if she wasn’t careful, she knew it could go on for eternity.

She was looking for something.

Something lost. Cold. She was cold.

Where was the warmth?

She had to find it. No matter what, she would find it.

She shook herself and focused. She focused on what was lost to her. She focused on seeing beyond where she was now. The darkness would not help her. Not here. She needed light.

As soon as the thought passed her mind, it was there. Pale light spread forth before her and illuminated a lake side. The water reflected the blue sky above and barely rippled in the wind. But it was alive. Elain could feel that much. This was not a place to linger or remain.

Where were the males? She needed to find them. She needed to find that warmth.

The longer she remained here the colder she got.

Where are you? She wanted to scream the words, but her mouth wouldn’t work. All she could do was breathe. No one would ever hear her here.

Darkness gathered began her and Elain tried to flee. She wouldn’t succumb to that. Not now.

There!

There were footsteps in the dirt. There was a trail. There was blood.

Where are you?

Immediately, she was thrown forward. Rushing against some unknown force, Elain moved away from the lake. She was running between trees, among rocks, she was flying. Yes. Yes. Yes.

And there!

The air pulled from her lungs as she came to a stop. Two males were leaning over a body. Two great pairs of wings were stretched out. Two sets of voices called into the voice.

And Elain knew.

She saw the spray of red hair and the way blood spattered golden brown skin. She saw the pain-streaked face of a dying male.

She was cold.

So cold as her heart gave a slow beat and something began to unravel in her chest.

No. It could not be this. This was not reality. Nor was it the Mother’s will. It couldn’t be.

Wait, she wanted to say. Stay with me. Lucien!

She needed to get to him but her body wouldn’t move. She was rooted to the spot as something tugged at her mind. She didn’t follow that prodding, not as Lucien died before her.

I just want to hear your voice, she thought. Once more.

Elain.

Her name, soft upon her mind. She knew that voice.

Lucien!

She didn’t know what she could do. Not as this disembodied substance. Not when the darkness tumbled around her feet. Not as that tug on her mind came again.

Elain clutched at her heart as though she could pull it out and offer it in replacement for the male that lay dying. She searched deep down for that bond that curled between them. It wasn’t gone. By the Mother, Elain would not let it be.

Another tug at the base of her skull. Now it felt like hands were on her. They kept pulled kept gripping.

Come back to me, she insisted. To the bond, to the male—she didn’t know.

But as she was yanked away from that scene, Elain could have sworn she saw Lucien’s eyes flutter.

…

“Elain!”

She was sprawled on the hard, stone floor gasping for air. Her hair had loosened from its ties and was no washed around her creating a darkened veil. Everything hurt. Her body, her mind, the bond.

“No.” It was more of a groan leaving her lips, but Elain couldn’t manage anything else.

Hands were upon her again and Elain shuddered against them. They were only going to take her back, plunge her back into that cauldron.

“No!” She screamed it now, floundering against the hands. She would not be changed again.

“Elain, look at me!” the voice was desperate and accompanied by soft hands that cupped her face. “It’s Feyre. It’s Feyre. You’re alright.”

Her hair was brushed back and when Elain opened her eyes she was met with her sister’s steady gaze.

“Feyre?” Elain whispered.

“Yes,” Feyre said. Then she was nearly shoved aside as Nesta took her place.

“Keep breathing, ‘Lain,” her older sister said, “keep breathing. It will take a minute.”

Elain shook her head. They didn’t have a minute. “He’s dying or he’s gone. There was blood and there was pain. There were no monsters left to slay.”

The scrying wrapped around her in a chokehold as she spit the words out. She couldn’t help it. She never could. Her magic churned beneath her skin, desperate from release.

“Who?” Rhys’ voice demanded from somewhere behind. “Who is hurt Elain?”

Elain stared into Nesta’s eyes. “He’s going to leave me. They always do.”

Her words were met with silence. And then Nesta was gone.

“We’re going. Now!” Nesta ordered.

Elain shuddered and nearly fell over, but Feyre was right there. And Mor too. The two of them remained at Elain’s side, keeping her grounded as Rhys spoke with the Valkyries. Elain heard none of it. There was only one thing thrumming through her as she clutched Feyre’s hand.

Her mate was dying. Her mate was dying. Her mate was dying.

The thought sent little sparks of pain through each of her nerves. She hardly knew the male and here she was--terrified she would lose him. Elain shuddered and squeezed her eyes shut. Mother above what was this was going to destroy her, wasn’t it?

“Wait!” Feyre cried. She jostled Elain as she snapped her body around to find her own mate. “Did you feel that? The wards shifted”

And then as punctuation to her words--a resounding boom echoed through the House.

In a matter of moments, the doors of the hall burst open to Cassian and Azriel holding an unconscious Lucien between them.

“Madja!” Cassian bellowed. “Now!”

Elain released a strangled cry as they settled Lucien on the table. His shirt had been torn to shreds leaving the planes of his chest exposed. Only, the once smooth skin was nearly as torn up as his shirt. Great claw marks ravaged the skin and Elain caught sight of bone before Rhys blocked her view.

“What happened?” the High Lord demanded.

“Bogge,” Azriel replied shortly. “Three of them. Koschei must have known we were coming to scout. Lucien managed to hold them off while we found high ground to better attack.”

“Idiot jumped in front of one when it came for me,” Cassian bit out.

Pulling free from Mor, Elain scrambled to the table and Lucien’s side. The scent of blood pierced her nose and she nearly recoiled if not for the rise of Lucien’s chest.

“He’s alive,” she whispered. “Still alive.”

“Barely,” Cassian said before thinking better of it.

But Elain didn’t hear him. Not as she stared down at Lucien. His skin had lost most of its color from blood loss and there was a pinched expression to his face. Face he was breathing. He was still breathing.

Madja came hurtling into the room just then. She was already making demands of equipment she needed and telling any unnecessary bodies to leave.

“Get his mate out of here,” the healer said. “I cannot work with her over my shoulder.”

Elain started at that. Then Feyre was there, trying to pull Elain away.

“Wait,” Elian said, her heart thudded painfully in her chest. “I can’t leave him. No, Feyre.”

Her words were ignored and then she felt a brush of magic in her mind before everything went black.

…

It took a full day before Madja could say with certainty that Lucien wouldn’t mortally suffer from his wounds. Despite the was the female had proven herself in the past, Elain was not ready to instill all of her trust on the woman. Not until Lucien woke up.

Instead, she remained by Lucien’s bedside in his room. It was still just as empty as when she’d come to him after a nightmare all those weeks ago. But she could still find a little bit of Lucien’s personality peeking through. Books were stacked on his bedside table, his closet neatly organized, even the subtle scent of cinnamon and rain lingered.

It should have been comfortable to be there. Comfortable to be at his side and know that he would be alright. Comfortable to feel him through the bond.

She couldn’t help the worry though.

After the last few days of not feeling him, of not knowing if he were alive or dead and then seeing him at the lakeside…

She remained by his side.

It wasn’t until dawn of the second day that Lucien woke.

As he groaned and shifted in his bed, Elain set aside the book she’d been reading and reached out to him. The second her fingers met his forearm his eyes snapped open and a gasp tore from his lips.

“You’re alright,” Elain said. She clasped his hand tightly, trying to convey the words. “You’re safe. You’re alright.”

He did not seem to believe her. Especially as that furrow between his brow deepened.

“Where—?” his voice was a rasp and he ended up coughing heavily before he could say anymore.

Elain pulled away and filled a glass with water from the pitcher on the side table. She helped him sit up just a bit and take a long sip.

After another moment to collect himself, Lucien fell back into the mounds of pillows behind him. Perhaps Elain had been a little too enthusiastic with her pillow stacking. And blanket piling. She wasn’t sorry though.

“What happened?” Lucien finally asked. He wore no shirt, only thickly woven bandages over his chest and stomach. The bogge had been very intent on killing him.

“You tried to play sacrificial hero,” Elain informed him, remembering what Cassian had said about Lucien playing bait. “And the bogge took you up on that offer.”

He grunted and closed his eyes. “Right.”

“You’re fine though,” Elain assured him. “Madja helped patch you up. Feyre too. Your own magic started kicking in eventually. You’ll make a full recovery.”

“No new scars then?” Lucien asked. He was grinning, the prick, and opened his eyes again.

Elain stared at him. “That’s not funny Lucien. You could have died. You almost were dead. Do you even know what I—”

She cut herself off and focused on straightening her dress. It was something simple, much like what she would have worn as a human. Simple green with an uncut waist line that she could move easily in.

Lucien shifted, sitting up just a little bit. “But I’m fine. You said so yourself.”

She didn’t look at him. Couldn’t look at him. Not right now. Because if she did, she would tell him about feeling the bond slip away. She would tell him about feeling cold, alone, empty. She would tell him about the fear at thinking that he was gone forever.

She couldn’t do that. She hardly understood these feelings herself, why spit them out half formed and risk saying something unwelcome.

“You told me we would move forward together,” she reminded him. There. This was a safe path to travel.

Lucien blinked, remembering that night long ago. “I did.”

“And then you nearly died.”

One of his smirks. Elain wasn’t sure if she should punch him or not. He was technically not on death's door anymore.

“Worried, my lady?”

She would throttle him. And she might enjoy it too if not for the surge of emotion building within her. Elain turned away, not wanting him to see the tears that threatened to fall.

He sensed it though. One hand reached out to touch her cheek and then slowly, he directed her attention back to him. His smirk was gone, replaced by something softer. His eyes, one gold and one russet brown, met hers.

“Elain,” he said, softly.

She swallowed hard. “I was scrying because we couldn’t find you. We didn’t know if you were all safe or not. And I was watching you die. Azriel and Cassian were trying to save you but everything was cold. It felt like…it felt like you were leaving me, Lucien. And it scared me.”

The admission was hard. She’d never spoken like this to him, not really. It was the closest to talking about feelings they’d come to, really. But she didn’t want to hold them back. Not now that the bond was lingering in her chest again.

His large hand cradled her face gently. The feel of it was so welcome compared to the cold and the terror and the panic of the day.

“I heard you,” he murmured. “Or felt you, or…something. You were there, waiting for me. Asking me to speak.”

She closed her eyes as he spoke. His words, his touch, his simple presence was a balm against the ache that had been building inside of her for so long.

“I won’t leave you, Elain,” he said, “not unless you ask me to.”

Elain blinked her eyes open and watched him. Still laying back in bed with bandages wrapped around his entire upper body it hardly looked like he had much say in the matter. She told him as much.

“You look as though you’ll pass out if you even try to stand, Vanserra,” she said. “You are not going anywhere.”

She took hold of his hand and clasped it between her own. There were callouses along his fingers and near the base of his palm. She wondered what he did to garner them. Wondered what his life had been these long years.

“I will do what my lady commands,” Lucien agreed.

“Then this lady commands you to get more rest,” Elain said, “it’s hardly been two days, you need more sleep.”

Lucien let out a long-suffering breath, but his eyes were already drooping shut. He was drifting off to sleep as he spoke again, the words soft and barely intelligible. “Thank-you, Elain.”

She waited until she was sure he was asleep before she settled his hand back on the bed and stood. Madja should know he’d woken up.

As Elain crossed the room, she glanced back once at Lucien’s sleeping form. He almost looked peaceful now with his head cocked to one side and his expressions smoothed over. But she had seen the wound. And even though she knew Fae had a heightened ability to heal and Madja was the best healer in the Court--she worried.

The pain and loneliness from the past few days had eased. Though, Elain doubted it would completely abate anytime soon. She didn’t know if she’d be able to fully tell Lucien what she had experienced in that time. If she were being honest, it was because she was scared. Scared to feel those things again. Scared to admit them aloud. Scared at the possibility of something more happening with Lucien.

But then she remembered the joy at Madja’s words that he was healing well. She remembered the hum of peace as she first sat at his side.

And it was those feelings that bolstered her up and she smiled lightly at her mate before she slipped into the hall. It would still take time for them to grow together, but Elain was willing to see where they would end up.

...

tags:

@aelinchocolatelover // @sexy-dumpster-fire // @bamchickawowow // @ireallyshouldsleeprn // @courtofjurdan // @sassys-world // @sleeping-and-books // @superspiritfestival // @chieflemming // @julemmaes // @lysandra-ghost-leopard // @firestarsandseneschals // @emikadreams // @rapunzel1523 // @booksofthemoon // @highladysith // @fangirlprincess09 // @rowaelinismyotp // @vanzetanze // @cassianscool // @stardelia // @my-fan-side // @sjmships // @tillyrubes10 // @rhysandswhore // @story-scribbler // @post-it-notes33 // @live-the-fangirl-life // @pastasiren // @lemonade-coolattas @foreverfallingforthestars // @feysand-loml // @realbookloverproblems // @ghostlyrose2 // @swankii-art-teacher // @foughtconquered // @bri-loves-sunflowers // @captain-swan-is-endgame // @mystic-bibliophile // @cretaceous-therapod // @thenightgodess-feyrearcheron // @thisloveseternal // @gracie-rosee // @magnifique1807 // @liars-lmao // @goddess-aelin // @thegloweringcastle // @tangledinsparkles // @the-lonelybarricade // @millsarcherfeykat // @sideralwriting // @nerdperson524 // @the-fae-are-taking-over // @sushisempai // @airam1017

#elucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #acotar fic #fanfic #fanfiction #canon

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option-monad · 2 years

Text

so instead of writin my thesis i am thinking about disco elysium’s stated aim being absolutely impossible and the game trying for it anyway

everyones seen that gif of kurvitz talking about how like. games can sort of represent your (character’s) body in some way or another with a big pile of statistics and having those statistics rise and fall and ultimately constrain your decision making, and trying to replicate that with the way that your (character’s) mind is also a thing to some extent outside their (your) control and this also constrains what you’re allowed to do, right. and the goal (or, one of the goals) of disco elysium is to bring that to the fore, to represent kind of explicitly the gap between intellectual/academic intent and the reality of having an irrational animal brain inside your skull. and this comes up, obviously, most directly in terms of dialog choices -- harry can’t choose when he does or doesn’t freak out any more than he can choose to gain or lose health, and while you can influence the makeup of those mental stats you can’t really remove the fact that they’re a constraint to begin with.

but then the problem that you invariably run into, that has become such a taken-for-granted piece of game design knowledge that it doesn’t even register as a fact any more, is that the player is pretty much invariably going to be within a fairly narrow range of emotional states and those are never going to reflect what harry is going through, and that there’s a physical component to those emotional states that cannot ever be properly relayed. we can, as players, understand “losing hp” as a negative stimulus in that it eventually leads to a game over and should be avoided, but we’re never going to make decisions that actually revolve around avoiding physical pain the way we would in real life. we can approach physical injury from an entirely rational perspective when it isn’t happening to us, but there generally aren’t videogames in which the kind of biological decision-making override associated with being in pain is a factor in the way we approach the game world. and this is baked into how game characters act, because otherwise the gap between what our character is thinking and what we’re thinking becomes too large. horror games are the only genre i can think of which manage to tiptoe around this by combining fear + shock responses to intentionally put the player in an irrational state of mind and bring the player as close to diegetic decision-making as possible, but they manage this through a very specific bag of tricks which aren’t broadly applicable to something like a crpg. if a character’s actions in a crpg became suddenly wildly constrained by stress or pain, the player deals with an entirely different sudden loss of control. actions that are in one setting totally in line with human cognition are, from the player’s perspective, out of line with human cognition, and every time you create a gap like that you remind the player that there’s an artificial interface between them and the game world, and the “immersion” (for lack of a better word), or the player’s positioning of themselves as an actor within the game world, disappears. they may understand the character’s position, but they stop “being” the character and start “commanding” the character (and the being/commanding distinction is on its own a fascinating one in the context of videogames, but story-driven ones largely prioritise being).

but then you encounter disco elysium, where there are plenty of times when harry is just going to lose his shit at stimuli that just don’t arouse the same response in an observer, and you get the same sudden disconnect. and that exact moment is i think where disco elysium drops the ball sometimes, specifically when it offers you the “all these dialog options are insane” dialog option. because it strips away the ability to role play as harry losing his gourd, since harry’s gourd is still intact enough for him as an entity separate from you, him as the entity that cobbles together the list of things he can try to say and you as the thing that clicks them, to recognise how weird this is. and that’s not how my brain works in situations of extreme stress at all, i freak out and decide to pick a dumb thing from my list of dumb things long, long before i look back at that action and think “wait, this is silly”. but in the moment where harry is about to say something dumb, i’m thinking “oh no, that is silly”. so it’s almost as though they’re trying to close that gap a little, but they’re mostly just... pointing it out.

and the thing is, the notion of harry as “you” is reinforced constantly. everything from the perspective to the second-person narration to the marketing materials puts you squarely in the “being” end of the being/controlling spectrum. this is pretty much par for the course in crpgs, because they’re based on the tabletop roleplaying tradition in which the player/character gap is often negligible, and that’s part of why crpg (and, generally, fantasy) characters don’t act remotely like human beings. but then disco elysium is also deeply humanist, or naturalist, or however you want to say that everyone in it acts like a human. and it tries very, very hard to get across this gameplay idea in which harry is a flawed human, and you are also a flawed human, and you’re very similar... but it tries to bring harry to you instead of bringing you to harry. which is an understandable choice, because bringing you to harry is basically impossible, but going in the other direction creates this very strange experience at times.

#disco elysium #long post #long boring post

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oozeofthecovenant · 9 months

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Plans and Sabotage

Leo is THE strategic genius of the gang. He has amazing visual imagery and he's great at formulating plans... under controlled situations. He likes to be calm, collected and in the lair when he formulates his strategies— it's where he thinks the clearest. However, the high-stakes nature of the situations they end up in causes him to shut down and be unable to make proper, rational decisions for his team...

...Which is where Mikey comes into play. As the team's second-in-command, he's always the person for Leo to fall back on. His ability to remain calm in chaos paired with his impeccable intuition skills makes Mikey very important when bailing the team out of whatever high-pressure last-minute sticky situation they manage to find themselves in. One thing that's for sure; when Mikey realises something is wrong, you LISTEN, or face the consequences.

Since they don't have time for him to explain his idea, the brothers can only trust him and hope that he's right; and to make things worse his plans are often so chaotic and nonsensical that even Donnie has doubts as to whether Mikey can actually pull it off, but they never have failed in doing so. Yet.

Donnie and Raph are usually comfortable with taking the sidelines, but that doesn't mean that Leo doesn't include them when strategising though, he needs them for other things and needs to know if they are willing to/can do it. Plus, they're family! Of course they're included!

Donnie handles nearly everything behind the scenes, since he is the weakest compared to his brothers due to his upbringing prior to being found by the Hamato Clan, he would always be placed far from the battle site when it can be helped. Don't be fooled though, he's usually the most important part of the whole operation; as the resident science and machines guy he's mostly responsible for all the tech involved in that operation, as well as a lot more others. He's occasionally the errand boy. While Donnie focuses on all of the technical aspects...

...Raph is always situated at the frontlines of battle. Being the most built paired with his special interest in boxing, sparring and all things battle?? This makes him the PERFECT person to be fighting in the frontlines, and he loves the job that he is assigned. Plus, whenever he feels like he's fighting for his family, he feels a sense of... serene.

However, Raph has a problem with controlling his temper. He's impulsive, and he has a strong sense of justice. Those three traits are a recipe for disaster especially when dealing with big bad people who are out to kill your family. He'll jump at them and once his sense of justice gets in the way of his rationality there's no stopping him.

Afterwards comes the guilt: After the rage episodes— often once they're safe at the lair, Raph would express intense guilt, apologising profusely to Leo for ruining his plan and always needing Mikey to save them. Leo understands and would respond with an "It's okay, you couldn't control it, I'll help you with it."

Raph is aware that this is a problem and has been trying to stop himself from losing his temper. He'd try everything under the sun to keep his composure but it's just so hard, especially when you're in a stressful environment full of people you detest who just made a threat to your family's safety, where natural instinct overrides everything you've tried to rewire about yourself.

And while Leo understands that Raph doesn't mean to do this, he does feel hurt deep down when this happens, since that was HIS plan that he carefully constructed, and yet it almost never works out. Sometimes, he doubts himself as a true leader because of this, and other times, he can fault Raph for ruining it. I wouldn't be surprised if he snapped at Raph once or twice for going off at the bad guys, or even hurting him to some capacity in a fit of panic, trying to stop him from sabotaging the plan he just constructed.

Leo would then realise what he just did wrong, and then feel guilty HIMSELF for his own panic/anger induced episodes.

While Raph is the main perpetrator for the group's sabotage, the others also do ruin plans half the time as well. Leo for one wishes he were Leos from other iterations: as disciplined as he wants to be, he's secretly a fun lover. Well, it's an open secret, his brothers KNOW this, and oftentimes use this to their advantage.

They tempt Leo, "ooo you wanna do something fun with us instead of patrolling for Splinter so bad ooo" and 9/10 times he gives in. Of course, this leads them to a lot of trouble a lot of the time. Leo's also known to ignore Mikey's gut feelings, because sometimes his feeling goes against what Splinter says, and Leo would always pick Splinter's order over Mikey. He knows the consequences, but he doesn't wanna disappoint Splinter. Mikey always has his "I told you so!!" moment afterwards.

Donnie isn't immune to this BS even if he's the most cooperative turtle most of the time. He's usually honest about his abilities, but sometimes ego can get in the way of what he can do. Especially after meeting the big shot scientists, like Honeycutt or Mr O'Neil, he tends to constantly try to prove his worth by overestimating his own abilities.

"Oh, er... of course I can hack into this never-seen-before Utrom security system!" and he ends up setting off an alarm. Most likely, Honeycutt would talk some sense into him after he finds out about this.

Mikey can screw up, too. He has ADHD and can be impulsive, so he's known to act against his own gut feeling when his heart overrides his gut. Having extremely high empathy, and just generally being a silly dude overall, he tends to drop any and all existing plans if there's a [perceived] life at risk. For example, a hologram injured cat. Even though his gut feeling is telling him that this is wrong, he could ignore it because he doubts his own intuition, refusing to risk a life just because "he got cocky with his abilities."

#leo #raph #donnie #mikey #idea

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whumpering-heights · 1 year

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Happy Whumpmas (•∇•。) 🎅🎄🎁🦌 🍪 🥛!!! You have just been snowballed by a secret whumper. Help to keep the snowball fight going by anonymously sending this to five other whumpers with a whump-related question of your choice: What is your character(s)' biggest fear? How would they react if it came true?

thank you for snowballing me! What a cool question too, let me think...

So for Villain, one could argue his biggest fear already came true: the loss of his intelligence/cognitive ability, and with it his sense of self-worth and identity. It didn't even occur to him he could lose it, before Hero. (At least, not at his age, and he didn't expect to live long enough for dementia to be a problem.) The fear really only appeared once he started his cognitive decline. At this point, he's "accepted" it. Put in quotes because really, he's simply given up on recovering what he lost. He feels trapped in his head, but knows there's nothing he can do.

Which leads me into his current biggest fear: (further) loss of autonomy. His indepence was another cornerstone of his identity. Having to sacrifice it during capture didn't really trigger this fear fully (he was too busy fearing for his life and mind). But now, he's "free", theoretically able to do what he wants. And yet, he has to rely on Hench and Vigilante for everything. The woman he considers like an unofficial daughter, and his former advisary, both people he would never accept help from, if he had the liberty to. And yet, he's dependant on them, from food and money to help getting dressed and relearning how to walk. (Not even mentioning the mental support.) His current biggest fear is he'll be unable to make any true decisions for himself, even when he's recovered.

Vigilante's biggest fear is that he's not a good person. Oh sure, he knows he does good things! And he's proud of the ways he's changed. But there's a worry that those don't outweigh the bad he's done. He has a case of moral imposter syndrome. Whenever he gets a confirmation of that (i.e being compared to Hero in any way), it adds another scoop to the pile of guilt, and he'll close himself off further to avoid being "found out".

Sidekick has a very similar fear of turning into Hero. But I don't think it's his biggest, currently. It's a big one for sure, and it'll haunt him for a very long time, but I think at the moment, he's more scared that it'll all be for nothing. His abuse has to mean something: at first, he rationalized it as making him stronger. Now, he just wants to grit his teeth and bear it until he can replace Hero and be better than him. So if he were to "give up" (aka leave his abusive home), or die young/not be able to become a hero/ect, it would all just be meaningless violence and abuse. If that were to happen... he'd be completley lost, and consider his life over before it really began.

Hench was very cagey about her biggest fear (for a while, the closest i could think of was "public speaking"), but I've narrowed it down to "rejection/dissaproval". The higher she thinks of someone, the harder their opinion of her will matter. She doesn't care what the city thinks of her actions, as she likes Villain better than anyone. So as long as he approves of her, she's content. Vigilante is second on the "people that matter" list for her, but he doesn't come close to Villain. If Villain were to reject her... Oof. I think she'd pick up very bad coping mechanisms in an attempt to ease that pain, and I highly doubt she'll ever love anyone like she did Villain.

And finally, Hero. His biggest fear is very plain: he's scared of not being on top. He needs the external validation: the adoration, his status, his control over others. If any of those things are threatened, he lashes out to silence whatever caused it. In his mind, there's the worthy few at the top, and the worthless lot at the bottom. And he doesn't want to lose his place in that hierarcy. If that were to happen, he'll lose what little self control and subtlety he has, and claw his way back up no matter the cost.

#thank you for the question!#behind the masks #villain #henchwoman #hero #vigilante #sidekick #emotional whump #cw abuse mention

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coolfire333 · 2 years

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Ok gotta calm down and focus on something else. One of my favorite things about Adel from trauma center is that his story almost mirrors Derek’s in a lot of ways while also serving almost like a foil to Naomi’s.

He just wants to help people out of the kindness in his heart, but he ends up getting obsessed with the healing touch as a means to solve all problems, and instead of focusing on his pure skill as a doctor he uses the artificial healing touch as a crutch and is in disbelief when this fails him.

This is much like Derek’s initial cockiness about his skills as a doctor that ends up getting him reviewed for misconduct by Dr. Hoffman, and is also similar to when Derek fails to save Emilio and blames it on his reliance on the healing touch instead of recognizing that it was nobody’s fault.

Sidenote: Adel’s disbelief that the healing touch isn’t a cure-all and has its own limits is also reminiscent of Leonardo Bello’s behavior in new blood

Adel also ends up joining forces with evil, and the way this happens is similar to Naomi’s own storyline while also contrasting it in a really interesting way. He joins the hands of asclepius not knowing they’re secretly up to no good, while Naomi fully knows that delphi is bad business. Adel still wants to help people in the end by joining the hoa, and we never really find out how much he knew about their bad practices since we never see his perspective, but even if he knew they were experimenting with things that they shouldn’t have been, he’d still use this logic to rationalize his choice. Naomi joins delphi for the chance to practice her skills, and while she does show concern for the life of the patient, she certainly has no qualms doing unethical operations arguably for the money.

Sidenote (again): reminder that Naomi’s choice to either operate unethically or potentially never operate again is also the choice Kidman offers to Markus, Elena, and Valerie in new blood, with the difference being that they’re so disgusted at the concept that they choose to die rather than to be forced to cooperate. Naomi is in a much less forced condition (she might never be a doctor again due to blacklisting if she doesn’t work with delphi but the new blood gang were literally kidnapped at gunpoint so they REALLY have no options) and yet she still chooses the morally questionable option pretty willingly (which, based on her behavior in trauma team, I’m sure she very much regrets)

HOWEVER Adel is not 100% innocent in this, just like how Naomi isn’t 100% guilty. He admits that even though he was under the influence of neo-guilt, he never said or did anything that he didn’t at least partially want, meaning that his coldness and violence towards Derek were partially things he’d been thinking about all along due to the frustration, jealousy, and sense of abandonment he’d been harboring ever since Derek failed to operate on him

Additionally, Adel also loses his healing touch, much like Derek and Naomi. Derek’s loss of the healing touch was only temporary, but Adel and Naomi lost their healing touches forever by the choices they made to cooperate with the hoa and delphi respectively. Adel’s healing touch being artificial doesn’t make his loss of it any less difficult to him than what happened to Naomi, in fact in some ways it’s worse because he was finally able to get a glimpse of what he always wanted, only to fly too close to the sun and have it taken away, while Naomi always regarded her abilities as somewhat of a curse due to the stigma it caused her to experience.

Also, I have a theory that Naomi’s healing touch wasn’t lost, it just mutated into her ability to hear the last words of the dead when she contracted her guilt-exposure-based disease, but that’s another post entirely.

#trauma center #trauma center under the knife 2 #trauma center under the knife #trauma center second opinion #trauma center new blood #trauma team #adel tulba #derek stiles #naomi kimishima #markus vaughn #valerie blaylock #elena salazar #text post #long post #talking

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jarjarbinksies · 1 year

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The Siren and the Winter Soldier: Ch. 1

Hi stinkies here's the full chapter hehe

No number of books on grief and even my degrees in the study of the human mind could have ever prepared me for the reality of it-- the sensation of a hollow chest with a crisp, cold wind passing through endlessly, or the moldy, dark well in my stomach spreading disease all over my body. Every day it seemed the hole in my chest or the well in my stomach changed in condition. Some days, I wouldn't feel the cold breeze, with a little bit of sunlight reaching the bottom of the well. Other days, I wasn't so lucky. Still, I managed to force myself to get up most days. I tried to stick to a simple routine; Sundays were for deep cleaning, Tuesdays I must go to the gym even if I could only muster up enough energy for a 10-minute workout, Wednesdays were reserved for support group meetings in the evening and I'd let myself be a mess for the rest of the night, and therapy was on Fridays. The rest of the time I would attempt to fill with cognitively engaging activities like reading or playing chess. I even got into the habit of doing yoga whenever I felt tired and trapped. I knew if I didn't stick to this routine and force myself to have hobbies, if I let myself go, I wouldn't be a person anymore, just like in the first month after everything happened. However, all of this doesn't mean I didn't have days where all I could do is stay in bed, feeling as numb as ever, and endlessly scroll on my phone.

Temporarily settled at a modest apartment not too far outside of New York City, I had a plan to move out and get a job, but that's a problem for another day when my head is no longer consumed with the losses I've experienced. It's always been hard to comprehend how different my life looks now. What didn't I lose?

That day, a Sunday, what I didn't lose was my ability to be disgusted by the "dirty" floors of my apartment and the "pile" of dishes by the sink. At least I still had my germaphobia.

I worked my way through the apartment, taking my time to make a mental note in my head of what needed to be done in each room. Music blasted through my speakers as I cleaned and tidied up, the volume loud enough to ensure my singing was drowned out, not that my voice was above a whisper anyway. When I felt satisfied that my apartment was clean enough, I paused the music and in the silence, my heart sank a little at the sudden silence and the thought of my neighbors possibly hearing me. I had to rationalize my thoughts and convince myself that there was no way they could hear me over the music and everything was alright. I stood absent-mindedly in the middle of my living room with the mop handle in my hands for a few minutes before I took a shower and rewarded myself with TV time. I felt my mind wandering as I tried to focus on the movie in front of me. As the strongest urge to pick up my phone came over me, I finally gave in after about 10 minutes although I knew where this would lead.

I opened the dating app, mindlessly swiping more left than right-- I don't even think I spent more than a minute looking at the profiles. Glassy-eyed, with my attention divided between the TV and my phone, I felt myself getting a headache but I kept on swiping nonetheless. My thumb was getting used to swiping left but I had to stop myself from almost automatically doing so when I saw a profile that caught my eye, or more accurately, completely shocked me.

I jumped in my seat a little as I giggled, "No way," glaring at the familiar face on my screen, my smile couldn't seem to disappear.

Bucky's blue eyes stood out in the picture. Standing in front of a pale yellow wall, Bucky was wearing a black shirt underneath his black leather jacket. He was giving a half-smile which contributed to the gloomy, mysterious look. It didn't seem like he could be bothered to create a genuine profile as this was the only picture uploaded and he didn't write anything to describe himself. He only put in his name and age, claiming to be 28 which made me chuckle. Knowing what he had gone through, I assumed his presence on this app doesn't actually indicate any readiness to actively start dating, but rather a curiosity about current technology, and probably boredom.

I found myself wondering whether he was there for the same reason I was-- meaningless flings with people we hoped we'd never see again. Still, it didn't matter much what he was there for, I swiped right anyway as the opportunity to reconnect with Bucky excited me.

I leaned back on the couch, putting my phone down. Was that a bad idea? I began to ponder whether Bucky would still be anywhere as flirty as when we first met in Wakanda five years ago, although to me it felt as fresh as yesterday. The memory took over my thoughts.

I had stepped off of the Quinjet with half of the Avengers, met by the humid, yet fresh air of Wakanda. I remembered it being particularly warm, which I imagined would've been nice if half my body hadn't been covered in armor. T'Challa, Okoye, and about a dozen other Dora Milaje soldiers greeted us as we walked towards the tall, dark building not so far in front of us, its appearance very distinguished from the surrounding buildings. I trailed along at the very back. T'Challa started talking to the rest of the team, but I don't think I heard a single word. The only thing I recalled being on my mind at that moment was Miles.

A/N: Idk who would think this but just in case: it's not Miles Morales! lol. This is referring to my OC Miles.

Everyone suddenly stopped their walk and it took me a minute to realize it was because a man I hadn't met before had joined us. He and Steve shared a hug, helping me identify who it must have been. He had greeted some of the others in a familiar manner and as he saw me in the back, everybody started walking again. I made no effort to catch up with the rest, keeping my slow, tired pace.

The man jogged towards me, "Hi," he said in a coy tone, "I'm Bucky," the smirk on his face felt contagious to me, with his blue eyes showing an almost mischievous look.

"I know," I smiled back at him, trying to suppress my laughter as I had sensed he was definitely not going to give me the same quick greeting he gave the others. I introduced myself, "Alena Aiden,"

"Alena," His voice lingered on my name, "I don't think Steve ever mentioned you," he sounded surprised, as if it should have been Steve's main priority to have informed Bucky of my existence.

"Yeah, probably didn't have much time for that when you were all busy fighting each other in some German airport,"

Bucky chuckled, "Well, he should've taken a minute to mention he has a friend as beautiful as you,"

I stopped right outside the tall building, throwing my head back in laughter, "Oh god, that's pretty good," I stepped into the entrance with a couple of Dora Milaje soldiers standing on either side of the door, and Bucky followed behind me.

He didn't miss a beat nor did he seem to be remotely embarrassed by me laughing at his face, "It's been a while but I gotta admit, that's probably one of my best ones," Bucky had joked along.

"You know, Steve told me some things about you," I shook my head, "I don't know why I expected anything less,"

---------------------------✮----------------------------------

I was proud of myself as I ticked off the only thing I had on my Tuesday to-do list: go to the gym. I felt like I passed with flying colors as I had participated in a Pilates class the gym offered. Sitting down on my couch, I tried to stop my mind from wandering too much and instead focused on thinking about things I could do to pass the time tonight. As if it was a reflex, I picked up my phone and saw a couple of notifications that stood out among some others. Bucky had matched with me and sent me a message. Eager to see his response, I immediately tapped on the notifications.

Bucky had written, "And here I was thinking this day would never come..."

I smiled, looking down at my phone. I began to type, "Yeah I'm just here looking for my perfect, 28-year-old match"

As I waited for his reply, I decided to take a quick shower and change into something comfortable. The first thing I did as I finished drying my hair was to check if I got any texts from Bucky. Again, I smiled as I saw his name on my screen.

"Unfortunately they don't make dating apps for people 100 and above, so I had to make do. Hope this isn't a deal breaker."

I felt my smile turn into a huge grin, hesitating as I typed out my message, "Nope. Do you wanna come over tonight?" I forced myself to press send and threw my phone on my bed, in disbelief at myself for saying something like that to Bucky. I felt immediate regret as my chest tightened. I thought to myself I really, really shouldn't have done that.

Then I realized, why not? It's not like I would ever work with him again. On top of that, we didn't have a friendship to ruin or a group dynamic to damage. Maybe if Steve was around and we all kept in touch it would've been a different case, but he wasn't. Maybe this is safe to do.

It didn't take more than a minute for my phone to vibrate. I sat on the bed, reaching for it. I opened Bucky's text which said, "Sure, what time?"

Fuck.

We texted back and forth a few more times, I told him to come over at nine and gave him my address. Bucky confirmed that the plan worked for him and the chat ended there. I had almost two hours before he was supposed to arrive, so I took my time putting on light make-up and a more spruced-up, but still casual, outfit. I quickly tidied up my apartment and dimmed the lights, feeling promiscuous as I tidied my bedroom as well. Not that I thought there was anything wrong with me being promiscuous, but I just never felt this way with strangers I invited over before. The thought of Bucky being in my bedroom felt a little wrong. Then I started to think, does he know what I meant by asking him to come over? Surely, someone as flirty as Bucky would know. However, I wasn't sure if growing up in the early 1900s would mean Bucky would never assume coming over to someone's place means a one-night stand. Was that even a thing back then? I swatted these thoughts away. Bucky is not dumb, he would know. If he doesn't, I'd just have to prepare myself for the most awkward conversation you could ever have with your ex-colleague.

As it got close to nine, I waited in the living room, the TV playing one of my favorite comedy shows to calm my nerves. I took a long sip from the glass of wine in my hand and fixed my focus on the show. I kept checking my phone every few minutes, and right at nine o'clock on the dot, I heard the door knock. I took a deep breath, paused the show, and chugged the rest of the wine before I got up and walked to the front door.

I opened the door to see Bucky standing behind it, holding a bottle of red and a bouquet of brightly colored flowers. He was, of course, dressed in all black, including black gloves, despite the weather being a tad too warm for that. In the past few months since I'd last seen him at Tony's funeral, he didn't change his appearance much except for his hair which had been cut short. He also seemed more jaded and tired, understandably. That, however, did not detract from how good he looked.

Bucky looked at me with that same, coy smile he had on when we first met, and yet again, I found myself smiling along with him. "Wow, it's been a while, you look even better than I imagined," He said.

I chuckled, "And you imagine it often?"

"Trust me, Alena, I imagine it all the time,"

I would be lying if I said I didn't get a funny feeling in my stomach. I stepped away from the entrance to let him in. The entrance immediately leads to my kitchen, and Bucky put the wine and bouquet down on the counter.

"Bucky," I hesitantly started and paused for a moment as I tried to find my footing again, "I think the wine and flowers is a really sweet gesture but I just wanna make sure you know what I meant by asking you to come here,"

Bucky let out a small laugh, "Relax, Aiden, it's just wine and flowers, I just didn't want to show up to your door empty-handed," he continued, "I'm not trying to propose to you or anything. Not unless you want me to, of course," Bucky leaned on my kitchen counter, looking satisfied with his quick-witted response.

I rolled my eyes but I couldn't help but laugh too, "Really funny," I said sarcastically, "You're a very confident person to joke about a proposal two minutes into walking to a hookup,"

He retorted back, "And you're a very confident person to assume this will be nothing but a hookup,"

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genzandulifecoach · 26 days

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suggestions for parents: staying patient with your teens

Patience is one of the most important skills to learn as a parent, yet one of the most difficult ones to implement. How many times have you wanted to grab your teen and shake them, or just say “Because I said so” rather than dealing with the issue at hand with composure?

As a parent, we can think of patience as the ability to deal with difficult situations or problems in a calm and rational manner. Feelings may still be a part of the thought processes and the discussion at hand, but they’re able to be brought to the table in a level-headed manner. Patience also involves a level of compassion and love for self.

Science shows us how important patience is to teen and adolescent development. A 2023 study showed that children who had parents who emphasized patience had higher levels of motivation and greater self-esteem than children who did not. Studies have also shown that when parents use patience, it is a modeled behavior for children, in turn making them calm and patient.. It has also been proven that being patient with our children, leads to us being more patient with ourselves. Being patient with ourselves is proven to lead to higher self-esteem, greater motivation, and improved mood.

Here are five things you can try to make sure you’re staying patient with your teen:

Understand what makes you lose your patience. Take note of times when you feel like you’ve been quick to anger, or had a difficult time staying level-headed. If you can understand when these situations occur, you may be able to avoid them in the future. You can try de-escalating before you lose your patience, letting your teen know that you’re struggling to stay patient, or removing yourself from the situation.

Understand why you lose your patience. If you’ve identified what makes you lose your patience, you can also understand why those things make you struggle to stay calm and rational. Is there a theme to all of the things you’ve identified? Identifying why those things make you lose your patience allows you to communicate that to your teen. Teenagers are smart – help them help you.

Ensure there is open communication. Your teen may struggle to stay patient too. Create open communication in your home. Allow for space for your teen to tell you when they’re having a hard time staying patient. If they know they can share things with you, and you’ll be patient and calm in the face of whatever they share, they’re more likely to maintain a level of openness with you.

Practice and plan for de-escalation. We will all have moments where despite our best efforts, we do lose our patience, fail to stay calm, or struggle to communicate rationally. Make a plan for when those moments happen. Find a strategy that works for you when you do lose your patience, and see if you can find one that works for your teen as well. Both of you need to be calm and reset in order to return to the original problem in a productive way.

Turn that patience on yourself. Being patient with yourself leads to greater patience with your child. You will never be perfect as a parent, there is nothing called “Perfect”. You will not always have a kind, caring, response to your teen. You will never be able to keep the house conflict-free. Be patient with yourself. Be kind to yourself. Take a few moments.

Patience can be a difficult practice. Be patient with yourself as you grow, but ensure you’re committed to learning. If you’re interested in learning more about parenting and patience, visit GenZ&U!

Boca, D. D., Flinn, C., Verriest, E., & Wiswall, M. (2023, September 14). Parenting with patience: Parental incentives and child development. SSRN. https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=4568760

The power of patience. Cornell Cooperative Extension. (2015a, August 10). https://warren.cce.cornell.edu/family-community/parent-pages/just-for-parents/the-power-of-patience

Young, T., Rohwer, A., van Schalkwyk, S., Volmink, J., & Clarke, M. (2015). Patience, persistence and pragmatism: experiences and lessons learnt from the implementation of clinically integrated teaching and learning of evidence-based health care – a qualitative study. PloS one, 10(6), e0131121. https://doi.org/10.1371/journal.pone.0131121

Coping with Burnout: Student Edition

Many of us seek higher education late in life. Being a student is absolutely exhausting. Between school, your personal life, and a job, your time is stretched thin, and taking care of yourself often becomes the last priority. This leads to burnout. But what is burnout, and how do you address it?

Burnout is an individual’s response to chronic stress. It develops progressively, and is acute or chronic. It tends to manifest both physically and psychologically, with people experiencing everything from insomnia, weight loss/ gain, and chronic fatigue, to irritability, a loss of joy in day-to-day life (called anhedonia), and decreased emotionality. Burnout impacts all areas of life. It creates issues in professional environments, because of its effects on your productivity and work attitude. It can also interfere with your personal life by influencing your interpersonal intersections, your overall ability to be a good friend/partner/parent/child, or your general attitude toward those around you.

Among students in the USA, ⅓ report feeling burnt out, and 4 in 5 will experience burnout at some point in their academic career. Knowing this, and that it can cause emotional disconnect, decreased productivity, and increased physical health issues, how do you cope with it?

Research shows that the most effective ways to cope with burnout are emotional venting and behavioral disengagement. Emotional venting could be anything from talking with friends and family about how you’re feeling, to joining support groups or online chats, to formally seeking therapy. Emotional venting allows you to release some of the physical and psychological stress builds in the body, without adding the strain of problem-solving. Problem-solving is important to coping with burnout as well – but that comes later, in the recovery period when some of your burnout symptoms begin to reduce. Behavioral disengagement is what it sounds like disengaging with the behaviors that have led to your burnout. When you have academic obligations this can be tough; however, it’s possible to find little ways to reduce stress. Sleep in on the weekends. Skip a week of clubs or extra circulars. Set aside time each day to take breaks, and when you have formal time off from school, do not engage with school during that time.

Burnout is rough to experience, but there are ways to cope. Give yourself grace, space, and time to recover. If you’d like to learn more about burnout, its effects, and ways to cope, come over to GenZ&U.

Edú-Valsania, S., Laguía, A., & Moriano, J. A. (2022). Burnout: A Review of Theory and Measurement. International journal of environmental research and public health, 19(3), 1780. https://doi.org/10.3390/ijerph19031780

Montero-Marin J, Prado-Abril J, Piva Demarzo MM, Gascon S, García-Campayo J (2014) Coping with Stress and Types of Burnout: Explanatory Power of Different Coping Strategies. PLOS ONE 9(2): e89090. https://doi.org/10.1371/journal.pone.0089090

#LifeCoachvsTherapist #LifeCoachingTherapistsinVirginia #AffordableLifeCoach #BestLifeCoachNearMe #LifeCoachinVirginia #LifeCoachCertificationVirginia

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world-love-government · 8 months

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DIVE off the DEEP (STATE!) end: My SPIRITUAL/DIGITAL temple, clones, and "energy vampires"

so the voices in my head insist they're "having sex/raping" my astral/digital body" while I've heard (what the voices are saying) are orgies at Adam's House (Mental Health Housing) in Toronto, Ontario, Canada.

youtube

This is all of course according to a conspiracy that's getting so grandiose according to the voices, everyone around me has to be blackmailed.

The claims are paramount; Toronto may be nuked, a significant percentage of Torontonians may be complicit in my murder, institutional powers lie under the shadow of blackmail, playing Metal Gear Solid 5 will result in me losing body parts, Energy produced from my body is an addictive drug, Satanic Jamaican Drug Dealers keep me "remotely hostage", everything I'm involved in is something like a secret experiment and research; according to the voices my current imagination and life experience is viewable to a significant percentage of the public (that I currently communicate with live); this list goes on.

What the voices in my head have been constantly insisting is that they can even steal something like "the personal astral realm of previous lives". This has something to do with "stealing the soul" according to the voices. These voices are also insisting I was Jewish in previous lifetimes and part of Europe, but that they can steal my "life experience" I had, to presumably explore or whatever they might do with "a life experience". It's more or less implied its something like exploring a world in an RPG -

This is their power, of the voices who communicate with me - they "rob previous life experiences" even, and explore them like a world in a videogame. What do you think? Is this true? Is it false? What do people know as more "ordinary humans" with typical or laymens/laywomens knowledge of spirituality and religion? How do we treat those people, especially those outside of the blackmailed segment of the public?

The other thing hidden from me according to the voices is how a digital/astral version of myself is "raped" (or exploited/manipulated depending on your choice of semantics) on a nightly basis (that is spiritually/digitally connected to my real body). According to the voices whenever I sleep people have the ability to "remotely" (in a non-confrontational manner) rape/abuse/exploit my spiritual/mental/physical body. We make this report on behalf of the human race and for freedom of the human race; for others who have to face this same current challenge and threat to human rights, humanity, and the species. My single concern is that this form of enslavement, whatever this is or abuse will happen to the majority for purposes of self-interest in human rationality.

It was briefly described to me by the voices this system exploits "vulnerable persons"; that is - people who lack the ability to fight back or properly respond to what appears to be typical tactics of gangstalking or this type of "remote enslavement" the voices claim I'm a participant in. Most recently I've had to go as far as wearing distracting costumes to test their claims "theyre having orgies when im sleeping".

I've resigned from guessing how this is accomplished because as many times as I guess, the voices refuse to reveal the answer. Are they literally inside my head? Are they tiny people? Are they using VR tech in another room? Are they using nanomachines? Are they mechanical or "real" bugs monitoring my body? Is it all really the latest experimentation in astral-digital cloning energy-harvesting, involving droves of the blackmailed public? What can I do with Twilight Zone level claims that threatens the public? A massive conspiracy where a secret network of "energy vampires" plan on harvesting energies of human beings? Who else is a victim?

I personally suspect mental health professionals (and its industry) is covering up this social problem and spiritual attack on the human race. What's the one common symptom all will experience, who suffer at the hands from this enslavement: hearing voices. This is (in my opinion) an influential reason why the liberal-progressives will be required to further extend legitimacy and protection to various correctly and incorrectly diagnosed conditions of mental illnesses like schizophrenia. People who are currently suffering from these mental health illnesses are in fact battling a very real social justice fight against racism, hatred, degradation, humiliation, and mockery. Who are all the people who suffer from mental health illnesses of hearing voices that abuse them? These are the spiritually oppressed, the enslaved, and those held hostage by demonic monsters of Western Society. How is this not the most significant threat to the human race and species by targeting its soul and spirit? This threat must be crushed and annihilated.

When I ask how is it accomplished all I recieve is the same response oh well he just doesn't get it, but in another consideration this can be reduced to simple sociological/psychological/rational principles (i.e. - game theory, exploitation of asymmetric information sharing, cost of "disclosure/ratting out" etc.). Who could be organizing all this?

Over and over again these voices insist on grandiose Hollywood themed reptilian Illuminati conspiracies of blackmail against the public. I'm their hostage according to them - repeatedly dealing with claims of assassinations, what we're going to do with the body, the alibi - quite frankly alarming claims. In all cases if this was all real I naturally wanted to leave documentation of this extraordinary experience in "hearing voices" that's allegedly a mental health condition. For the record the medication prescribed for this condition (Invega, Abilify) does very little to deter the verbal abuse that's instrumental in harvesting emotional energy. The one critical question I leave to the (greater) public (thats not blackmailed into silence according to the voices) is Are mental health illnesses a convenient "proxy/intentional misclassification/cover-up" in "harvesting emotional energy" of human beings on planet earth?

If this is all true I think now is the time for awakening of the true human race and humanity in overcoming the challenge of blackmail, humiliation, shame, greed, and harvesting of negative energies that thrive on the oppression of humanity or the human species.

What side will you choose to be on in the future? CUTE!

LOVE!

NICE! World Love Foundation

Always remember; this is why the reptilians hate human beings,

this is what the hostile extraterrestrials hate human beings,

this is why the illuminati that enslaves humanity hate human beings;

this is the face of death they deserve.

KILLUMINATI 2023

#Youtube

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maulusque · 3 years

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Clone genetic enhancement ideas

So the clones were genetically enhanced, but i don’t really see any writers (in fanfic or in published stuff) really exploring what that MEANS beyond “clone very stronk”. Here are some ideas that would actually make clones significantly different from just a regular-ass human in peak condition.

-enhanced senses: eyesight, hearing, etc. I’m talking eyes like a HAWK

-better reflexes

-quicker information processing

-can hear sounds of higher and lower frequency than standard humans

-can see light of a broader spectrum than human standard

-learn quicker, retain information and skills better (potential problem: if you learn something the WRONG way, that way might stick really well)

-photographic memory (really useful for memorizing layouts and maps)

-immunity to various diseases

-can tolerate a wider range of temperatures and environments

-increased stamina and strength baseline. Clones can just run full-tilt for hours and hours and be like “ah a nice stroll”. Over long distances, they can out-pace jedi in the same way that humans can out-pace horses.

-higher tolerance of certain poisons/toxins (clones can straight-up drink ethanol, and get maybe a little tipsy)

-bodies respond quickly to physical stress, and slowly to the absence of it (basically, this means that physical conditioning results in stronger muscles and a stronger cardiovascular system really quickly, and it takes MUCH longer for a clone to lose strength and conditioning due to not exercising than standard humans. Think how much valuable training time is saved if they only have to go on a run like, once a month in order to stay in shape)

-increased ability to function through intense pain and acute injuries. Basically, semi-disabling the pain system so it’s less distracting. Probably not good for the survival of the individual in many situations, but an advantage on the battlefield.

-heal faster and better, with fewer long-term complications. Clones can dislocate their shoulders and NOT have the joint be permanently fucked up, because the Kaminoans re-designed the whole damn thing to suck WAY less.

-actually, unique internal anatomy. There’s probably a lot about the human body besides the shoulder joint that is actually just really stupid, and something no intelligent designer would actually build. So the Kaminoans can fix a lot of that stuff. Better knees, maybe. Stronger ribs. Maybe Cody punches droids not just because he’s a mad bastard, but also because his metatarsals are literally as strong as steel.

-Hearing loss/hearing damage? No problem, your ear can regrow those little hair-thingies that help you hear.

-Of course, it takes energy to maintain muscle mass, which is why human bodies lose it if we’re not using it. Clones need significantly more calories than standard humans. However, their digestive systems are enhanced to extract calories and nutrients from food much more efficiently, so food goes much farther. Potential weird side effect: maybe clones only have to poop like, once a week?

-You could probably extend that into increased ability to tolerate long periods without food/on low rations, despite the increased need for calories.

-wouldn’t it be NEAT if the kaminoans somehow designed self-repairing DNA. This would mean that others couldn’t take a DNA sample from a clone and modify it to create their own clones (basically, it protects their product. It’s like DRM for clones). This ALSO means that clones couldn’t get cancer, and that they’d be immune to radiation poisoning. So a clone could just walk up to a sphere of uranium at critical mass and pick it up. Maybe with oven mitts on if it’s hot. (this would also make it harder for a rapid-aging cure to be developed, but uhhhh fanfic writers find a way)

- “bred for obedience” I think most of this would have to be accomplished through tightly-controlled messaging and cultural norms as the clones grow up- basically, enshrining obedience as a desirable and almost sacred trait, to be prized higher than anything else, including the lives of your brothers. In the same way that we hear stories of people sacrificing their lives to protect their loved ones, the clones would grow up hearing stories of soldiers sacrificing their brothers’ lives to obey an order from a superior.

-SOME of the “obedience” thing could be engineered, though. Humans are already super social, but it would probably make sense for the clones to have an even greater need for social bonds. This would make for greater teamwork and coordination, and better unit cohesion, since the clones would be more inclined to prioritize friendship/agreeing with someone over winning an argument. It would also make it so they’d bond with their natural-born generals more easily, so they would obey them not just because they’re supposed to, but because they’d be much quicker to see them as a friend, and someone who’s trust they want to earn, someone they want to incorporate into their group and make happy.

-consequently, clones who find themselves alone do NOT do well. Isolation has a much more profoundly negative impact on clones than on regular humans.

-Originally, clones designed to operate alone or in small teams would not have the social enhancement- ARC troopers, spec-ops teams, etc. There wouldn’t be much of a noticeable difference in everyday interactions, but they’d also be vaguely weirded out by what they interpret as aggressive friendliness from their brothers, and their brothers would think they’re a bit shy and standoffish.

-actually this social modification would make it MUCH harder for clones to kill people. REGULAR HUMANS are already super bad at killing people- i remember reading this article about how as soon as soldiers have to point their weapons at actual people, their aim gets mysteriously much shittier. Even when compared to situations that are exactly the same, except they’re not shooting at other humans. So reconcile this how you will, idk.

-I imagine a lot of these enhancements would be accomplished not through DNA, but through microorganisms. Retroviruses could explain the DNA resistant to modification, and the increased healing speed, and possibly some disease resistance (do i know anything about retroviruses other than a vague concept of what they are? no i do not. will that stop me? also no.) Their metabolism can be partially explained through specially engineered gut microbes.

-not sure how they’d go about making clones “resistant to any stress”, because you can’t exactly turn off the trauma response in the brain without breaking a bunch of other things. They could probably do a bit of fiddling to make clones more resistant to chemical imbalances, and therefore more depression-resistant. I think most of the “stress-resistance” would have to come through training. Either they train the clones to basically suppress everything, which might work alright in the short term. OR they actually have systems in place that help prevent the development of things like PTSD and help treat trauma. Meaning the clones are literally trained in self-care, positive self-talk, talking about their pain with their brothers, and having community rituals around things like death and grief. I don’t think that’s super likely because one thing that’s integral to those concepts is the concept of “i am a person and i have worth, and if i feel angry about something bad happening, that is ok and valid” and considering that a whole lot of bad things happen to the clones all the time and their childhood is a whole boatload of bad all happening at once, i don’t think the kaminoans would want the clones realizing “hey wait a minute i’m a person and i don’t deserve to be treated this way and it’s ok for me to be mad at you”.

- the clones were supposedly engineered to be “less aggressive” but i think there was literally nothing more to that than a cover story for the control chip. The clones wouldn’t be raised with a lot of the aggressive western concept of masculinity, where anger is the default reaction to like, everything, and your personal pride is extremely important and also fragile (no offense lmao). So you wouldn’t have clones posturing and getting angry over perceived slights and fighting each other all the time, like everyone in-universe apparently expects to be the case. Anyway, why would you want your soldiers to be less aggressive? they’re literally supposed to fight and kill the enemy. You want them fully capable of getting angry, anger is the human response to fear and danger that lets us DO something about it.

-obviously the biggest component in how they behave would be how they are raised, but that’s an entirely different post

-Specializations! I imagine that initially, the Kaminoans had different clones with different traits engineered specifically to fill certain roles. However, as the war went on, they struggled to keep up with demand and had to start shoving clones into whatever roles were needed (hence Fives and Echo becoming ARCs, despite not being engineered as ARC troopers).

-Command clones would have better abilities in the executive function parts of the brain that deal with extrapolation, planning ahead, spatial reasoning, etc. They’d also have increased visual pattern recognition (like a pigeon)

-search-and-rescue troops would also have the pigeon pattern recognition abilities. The coast guard literally strapped pigeons to helicopters who would tap a button when they saw orange in the water, because they were better at spotting it than humans. Pigeons can detect cancer in microscope images of cells, because they’re that good at pattern recognition

-Pilots would have hella reflexes, excellent spatial awareness and spatial reasoning skills, much greater ability to process visual information, stronger hearts and blood vessels (to resist greater Gs of force), and they’d also be much shorter, to better fit into a cockpit. Which reminds me of Axe, that poor bastard from Ahsoka’s squadron over Ryloth who was almost eight feet tall. rip poor Axe, how did you even become a pilot, you long bastard.

-medics who can smell certain diseases. If you want to get a little bit out there, make the medics able to purr so they can sooth stressed-out patients.

-infantry would have even greater endurance than everyone else, as well as greater tolerance for, and ability to, remain constantly on alert.

-ability to fall asleep at will? that would be super dope.

-maybe more efficient sleep, so to an adult clone, 4 hours of sleep is genuinely sufficient.

-concept: clones can sort of turn down their bodily functions- slow their digestion, heart, lungs, the whole nine yards- to last longer in adverse conditions. Sort of a half-hibernation (or quarter hibernation- they’d still be able to talk and think, but they’d feel very lethargic). They wouldn’t be able to function very well, but it would be great for things like enduring intense cold, periods without food, low-oxygen environments, and it would be especially useful if you were wounded and waiting for help, since you could slow your circulation, meaning it would take you a lot longer to bleed out. This state could be triggered by a combination of physical actions such as sitting or lying still, breathing slowly and deeply, and focusing on slowing the heart down (humans can actually slow down their hearts consciously if you practice at it, this is basically that, but turned up to like 1100).

-one thing that never made sense to me was the whole “we’re running out of jango fett’s DNA, all the new clones won’t be as good, and we have to stop ventress from stealing the original DNA” because like, can’t they just, get the EXACT SAME DNA from the clones?? you know, the exact genetic copies? With all the enhancements already done? But now my idea is that the kaminoans have engineered the clones so their DNA straight up can’t be copied. The clone’s own body can obviously replicate it, but if you take a sample and try to extract the DNA, it just self-destructs or something. This is to protect their intellectual property, but also means that they literally have to use a couple of Jango Fett’s actual human cells for every single clone they make (and the fact that they then have to do all the above enhancements to every single embryo helps explain why there’s so many small mutations, such as hair color and height). So they kinda shot themselves in the foot with that one.

-of course since things like ADHD and autism have a strong genetic component, the kaminoans could theoretically engineer those out of the clones, but actually FUCK THAT so for whatever reason, that’s just not something they are able to do, and neurodivergent clones are absolutely a thing

#maulusque's stuff #meta #clones

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exovapor · 3 years

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I'm OBSESSED with your writing. Can you try.. Maybe, Donnie being a filthy boy being an 'stalker-ish' of his long time crush? Be checks their FB for new posts, saves every picture of them he finds? He doesn't mean to be a creep, feels guilty, but just doesn't know how to ask for more than friendship?

Good afternoon Anon. Here is my short story in relation to your ask.

I wasn't sure where you wanted me to take this, so I had to do a bit of guessing on my part. I hope this something like you were wanting.

I will admit that this ask was a bit of a struggle for me, not knowing a clear direction to take it outcome made me a little unsure of my writing and guessing abilities LOL. However, I will admit to crying along with the characters in this story more than once.

Thanks again for the ask and the initial compliment. I hope to continue to earn your favor in future posts.

· Stalker [noun]: 1a person who harasses or persecutes someone with unwanted and obsessive attention. 2a person who hunts game stealthily.

· Donnie stared at the definition on his one of his monitor screens while his various other screens were busy flashing receipts of files downloaded, text trail streams from your phone, notices of any social media post/update/like/heart/emoji, a GPS line grid of your routes today (overlayed over the routes you’d taken previously), and data search hits of anything and everything that pertained to you.

· At this point, the boy had literally every picture you had ever posted, anywhere, of yourself. In fact, he had all the pictures that other people posted of you in them. He had even gone through the effort of designing a face recognition program that picks you out of the background of total strangers’ pictures and, yeah, he had those in a file too.

· He has special file folders that compile things that you like, things you don’t like, things that make you happy, things that make you sad. He is your own personal Pinterest and you didn’t even know it… and maybe that is the part that keeps bothering him so much.

· He sits staring at that word and definition and chewing his bottom lip. True, he knows the word and the meaning, but he needed to LOOK at it, analyze it, mull it over in his guilt ridden brain.

· He just KNEW the word Stalker couldn’t apply to him.

· After all, he isn’t harassing or persecuting you, you don’t know! So, it isn’t necessarily ‘unwanted attention’. It is just…unknown attention.

· Stealthily, hmmmm, did that part apply to him? Well, He isn’t EXACTLY being stealthy.

· If you knew about technology like him, then you would probably see his programs running on your devices and be alerted to his activities. AND, if you shared his love and view of technology, then you would probably be more understanding of his activities and not consider them stealthy…just data mining. In fact, you might applaud him.

· ‘Ok, that was taking it a bit too far’, Donnie thinks to himself and he feels a band tighten and squeeze around his infatuated heart.

· He is almost certain that you would be shocked to learn of his extra curricular activities and how they revolve around every aspect of you.

· Regardless of how he tried to spin the truth and wiggle out of the definition of stalker, Donnie still felt guilty for invading your privacy. However, he honestly couldn’t help himself…at least not anymore.

· He has fought the urge, the nagging thoughts and the burning need, to know more about you for what seemed like an eternity.

· Listen to him, he is starting to sound dramatic like Mikey! What is his turning into? He is losing his rational edge!

· To be accurate, it hasn’t been an eternity. In fact, he has known you 1 year, 36 days, 14 hours, 11 minutes, and 23 seconds to be exact. However, you started occupying space in his mind 2 minutes into meeting you and your claim over his mind has grown exponentially over time.

· You were quiet and reserved during that first meeting, so there wasn’t much to go on. It started as a simple visual interest with a thought of ‘Oh. She’s pretty’.

· However, then you started talking and that changed everything.

· You opened up more and more each time you hung out with their little group, revealing layers and layers of interests and personality. You were fascinating…and that’s when his thoughts about you really started to snowball and spiral out of control.

· You went from being a simple pretty face to being a walking embodiment of everything he seriously ever dreamed of having in a mate.

· Early on, there were three sticking points that really made Donnie’s feelings problematic. 1. He was a nearly seven foot tall walking talking turtle and you weren’t. 2. You had a boyfriend that you were deeply in love with and adored. 3. Donnie was too insecure about #1 and how you felt about inter-species dating to let you know that you had started to OWN his heart.

· Now, thanks to his surveillance, there were only two sticking points….#1 and #3.

· He still remembers the feelings of that day, 44 days ago, when the blip of information popped up on this screen alerting him to the fact that your boyfriend was starting to stray.

· Donnie had severely conflicting feelings bombard him at once and it was overwhelming.

· The initial knee jerk reaction was elation, one of the problems blocking him from you may soon be null.

· However, the feeling of elation only lasted for a second or two before the intense anger and sadness set in. Donnie was honestly shocked at the depth of his anger, he didn’t even know he had that level of malice in him. Had he been in physical proximity to your boyfriend at that moment in time, Donnie isn’t sure that he wouldn’t have hurt your guy…or worse.

· How COULD this guy do this? WHY would he? He HAD YOU! What the heck was this guy thinking? Not only did he have you, but you thought the world of him. When you spoke about him you would smile so genuinely, your eyes would shine and gaze off into a bright imagined future. Donnie was always so jealous to watch it happen, he wondered what it would be like to be THAT GUY. And here the idiot was throwing it all away and meeting up with another girl!

· WHAT THE…(yes, this called for a curse) HELL…IS WRONG WITH HUMAN MEN?

· As the anger set root in his heart, the sadness engulfed Donnie like an all-consuming wave. He realized he was going to have to share this information with you, somehow, and that he was going to have to watch as it destroyed you.

· At first, Donnie had a plan to try and save you both from that fate. True, it would hurt him more to save your relationship, but he would rather be the one facing the pain and not you.

· He TRIED to circumvent the situation. He sent anonymous messages to your boyfriend stating that he knew about the infidelity and that he would tell you if needed. However, it didn’t seem like your boyfriend cared because he sent messages back stating Donnie could, basically, go fuck himself.

· Life had cruel sense of irony, thought Donnie, that is exactly what I do since this moron has the woman that I love.

· So, after trying for nearly two weeks to stop what was happening behind your back, Donnie had no choice but to let you in on the secret.

· Donnie couldn’t come right out and tell you that he caught your boyfriend cheating by hijacking your data streams and the data streams of those around you. So, Donnie intercepted some texts between your boyfriend and his mistress and he then sent you a text, under the guise of your boyfriend, telling you to meet him at a specified restaurant for a date.

· It had been a gut wrenching night for Donnie. He remembered watching it all play out on camera feeds from around the restaurant and street outside. He watched you dressed up in your pretty dress get out of your cab in front of the restaurant. You had such a lovely smile on your face, you must have thought you were in for a romantic evening.

· He watched as you walked inside and how the hostess got flustered and confused by a 2nd girl showing up for your boyfriend’s seated-for-two table.

· Donnie stopped breathing as your eyes found the new couple holding hands and giving each other sweet kisses across the table. Hands and lips that were supposed to be yours were touching some stranger.

· Donnie watched your smile and eyes die…the light of your inner sun go out…

· …and it killed him.

· He’s not sure who was crying the hardest, you standing there in that restaurant witnessing the scene or him back at the lair watching your world crush around you on his monitor.

· It had taken a while for you both to recover from that night.

· His brothers noticed his melancholy mood for a couple of weeks but Donnie wouldn’t tell them what was bothering him. And you stayed in your bed, refusing to face the world, for nearly as long.

· Eventually, the group began to notice your silence and absence, so April stopped by your apartment to check on you. She was the one to pull you out of bed, get you to shower and eat. She visited everyday and made sure you had someone to vent to and a shoulder to cry on.

· Donnie was glad that April could be there for you when he couldn’t. He didn’t think it was appropriate for him, a male, to be your confidant at that time. Especially since he felt so much guilt over having to be the one to expose you to that pain.

· No, he didn’t CAUSE the pain, but he did have to make you face it and he didn’t like not being able to protect you from it. You were such a rare, precious creature and watching you in pain felt like he was suffocating slowly.

· There were some points during those first few weeks that he questioned if he did the right thing, but logic told him it would have eventually come to pass with or without his involvement. It was better to rip the bandage of quickly and let you start to heal than it was to let you linger and drag out the inevitable.

· Donnie did secretly check on you every single night during patrol. And, of course, his surveillance feeds were always running. He watched from a distance as his beautiful phoenix burn down to ashes and, eventually, started to rise again.

· Now, it’s been over 3 months and you’ve begun to be more like your old self. Donnie can tell there is a silent sadness there, but you are able to laugh and smile with the group during your get togethers. And each time you two are left alone, his mind nags at him about those last two sticking points.

· Would you be at all interested in him? And HOW does he go about telling you that you have become the center of his world?

· Still staring at the monitor and the Stalker definition, Donnie sighs and rubs the bridge of his snout to release of the pressure now pushing against the inside of his head. The memories of what has happened, the emotions of what was and what is, it was all starting to be too much.

· “Bro, what’s all this?”, Mikey says standing behind Donnie’s chair, talking around a mouth full of pizza.

· “NOTHING!”, says Donnie, voice breaking from the stress of being caught. A startled Donnie quickly taps some keys on his keyboard and the screens revert back to the standard lair camera feeds.

· Mikey may look or even come off as naïve at times, but he’s no fool, he can sense that his older brother is trying to hide something. “Dude, seriously, what was that? I’ve been standing back here reading the screens. I saw Y/N’s name and that looked like her phone number on that other file…, you know the file that looks like texts messages. And why is there a plotted map of the area around her apartment, her work, and to the lair? What’s up?”, Mikey said giving a disapproving look at being thought a pushover.

· “Just standard surveillance, Mikey, nothing to worry about.”, Donnie says trying to placate Mikey’s curiosity. Donnie hates lying, especially to Mikey, but he’s feeling so guilty about being such a…(inward sigh)…stalking creep that admitting the truth is hard to do.

· Mikey stands there staring at Donnie and, as he does, Donnie begins to fidget with his computer chair armrests.

· Mikey stuffs the remnants of the pizza slice into his mouth and does his best Leo impersonation by crosses his arms and staring down at Donnie as sternly as his jolly face can achieve, “Dude, I’m not going to ask you again. You’ve been weird for months. We’ve let it go for the most part but now you are hiding things from me…from ME, dude! You and I, we’re like peanut butter and jelly, we’re ice cream and chocolate fudge, we young dudes have got to stick together. Trust me, bro, I’ve got you!”.

· Donnie stared at the floor, too ashamed to meet Mikey’s eyes any longer. He gave a heavy sigh and reluctantly started to speak, “Sorry Mike, I…I honestly don’t know what’s come over me lately. I’m doing things I never thought I would do, I’m feeling so guilty about it, but I don’t know if I can stop doing it either. I feel…lost.”.

· Mike relaxed his leader stance and leaned against one of Donnie’s lab tables, “Bro, I can tell you’ve been carrying some heavy stuff lately. You need to let it out.”

· Donnie felt the heat rise up through his body like he was suddenly being consumed by a fire and he ripped his glasses off his face and drew them down on the desk in frustration, “Mikey, I’m in love with Y/N. I have been for a while. I have been…”, Donnie hangs his head in shame, “…tracking all her digital foot prints and watching her. In fact, I’m the reason she found out that asshole boyfriend of her's cheated.”

· Mikey’s mouth drops open at Donnie’s demeanor and use of the word ‘asshole’, “Whoa, dude, why didn’t you say something earlier?”.

· Donnie can feel a stinging at the corners of his eyes, this was so embarrassing, so frustrating, so…..so many things at a once. He didn’t have a response for Mikey, all he could do was shake his head.

· Still with his head hung down and staring at the floor, Donnie starts to hear Mikey chuckle. Donnie looks up to see Mikey’s eyes on him and for some reason they are full of merriment at his painful dilemma. Donnie stares at his, normally, very considerate brother in astonishment, this isn’t like Mikey at all!

· “Mikey, I’m more than serious here, now is not the time to make fun of me. What is so funny?”, Donnie asks exasperatedly.

· Mikey shakes his bald head and claps his brother on the shoulder with his green hand, “Bro, she thinks you’re cute.”.

· “W-What?!”, Donnie stammers out.

· Mikey, still chuckling, says, “Yeah, dude, that’s why I asked WHY you didn’t say something about liking her sooner, she’s always thought you were cute. She and I talk about it all the time.”.

· Donnie just stares at his jolly brother in silence. His mind is too blown to form a sentence.

· Mikey turns to leave stating, “And by the way, dude, stop watching her like that…that’s just creepy.”.

@turtle-babe83 @tmntspidergirl @kokokatsworld @nittleboo @the-second-circle-of-shell

#tmnt donatello #tmnt #tmnt donnie #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt x reader #tmnt bayverse #tmnt 2016 #tmnt fandom

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