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mariacallous · 5 months ago

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A short note here on what I’m covering and why. The political changes we’re seeing across the world are underpinned by technological ones that are now accelerating. For more than a decade, I’ve been trying to investigate and expose these forces. Since 2016 that’s included following a thread that led from Brexit to Trump via a shady data company called Cambridge Analytica and the revelation of a profound threat exploit at the heart of our democracies. But what’s happening now in the US is a paradigm shift: this is Broligarchy, a concept I coined last summer when I warned that what we were seeing was the proposed merger of Silicon Valley with state power. That has now happened. Writing about this from the UK, it’s clear we have a choice: we help lead the fight back against it. Or it comes for us next. Please share this with family and friends if you feel it’s of value. Thank you, as ever, Carole

Let me say this more clearly: what is happening right now, in America, in real time, is a coup.

This is an information war and this is what a coup now looks like.

Musk didn’t need a tank, guns, soldiers. He had a small crack cyber unit that he sent into the Treasury department last weekend. He now has unknown quantities of the entire US nation’s most sensitive data and potential backdoors into the system going forward. Treasury officials denied that he had access but it then turned out that he did. If it ended there, it would be catastrophic. But that unit - whose personnel include a 19-year-old called “Big Balls” - is now raiding and scorching the federal government, department by department, scraping its digital assets, stealing its data, taking control of the code and blowing up its administrative apparatus as it goes.

This is what an unlawful attack on democracy in the digital age looks like. It didn’t take armed men, just Musk’s taskforce of boy-men who may be dweebs and nerds but all the better to plunder the country’s digital resources. This was an organised, systematic, jailbreak on one of the United States’ most precious and sensitive resources: the private data of its citizens.

In 2019, I appeared in a Netflix documentary, The Great Hack. That’s a good place to start to understand what is going on now, but it wasn’t the great hack. It was among the first wave of major tech exploits of global elections. It was an exemplar of what was possible: the theft and weaponization of 87 million people’s personal data. But this now is the Great Hack. This week is when the operating system of the US was wrenched open and is now controlled by a private citizen under the protection of the President.

If you think I’ve completely lost it, please be advised that I’m far from alone in saying this. The small pools of light in the darkness of this week has been stumbling across individual commentators saying this for the last week. Just because these words are not on the front page in banner headlines of any newspaper doesn’t mean this isn’t not happening. It is.

In fact, there has been relentless, assiduous, detailed reporting in all outlets across America. There are journalists who aren’t eating or sleeping and doing amazing work tracking what’s happening. There is fact after fact after fact about Musk’s illegal pillaging of the federal government. But news organisation leaders are either falling for the distraction story - the most obviously insane one this week being rebuilding Gaza as a luxury resort, a story that dominated headlines and political oxygen for days. Or…what? Being unable to actually believe that this is what an authoritarian takeover looks like? Being unsure of whether you put the headline about the illegal coup d’etat next to a spring season fashion report? Above or below the round-up of best rice cookers? The fact is the front pages look like it’s business as normal when it’s anything but.

This was Ruth Ben-Ghiat on Tuesday. She’s a historian of fascism and authoritarianism at New York University and she said this even before some of this week’s most extreme events had taken place. (A transcript of the rest of her words here.)

“It’s very unusual. In my study of authoritarian states, it's only really after a coup that you see such a speed, such obsessive haste to purge bureaucracy so quickly. Or when somebody is defending themselves, like Erdogan after the coup attempt against him, massive purge immediately. So that's unusual. I don't have another reference point for a private individual coming in, infiltrating, trying to turn government to the benefit of his businesses and locking out and federal employees. It is a coup. I'm a historian of coups, and I would also use that word. So we're in a real emergency situation for our democracy.”

A day later, this was Tim Snyder, Yale, a Yale professor and another great historian of authoritarianism, here: “Of course it’s a coup.”

History was made this week and while reporters are doing incredible work, to understand it our guides are historians, those who’ve lived in authoritarian states and Silicon Valley watchers. They are saying it. What I’ve learned from investigating and reporting on Silicon Valley’s system-level hack of our democracy for eight long years and seeing up close the breathtaking impunity and entitlement of the men who control these companies is that they break laws and they get away with it. And then lie about it afterwards. That’s the model here.

Everything that I’ve ever warned about is happening now. This is it. It’s just happening faster than anyone could have imagined.

It’s not that what’s happening is simply unlawful. This is what David Super, an administrative law professor at Georgetown Law School told the Washington Post.

“So many of these things are so wildly illegal that I think they’re playing a quantity game and assuming the system can’t react to all this illegality at once.”

And he’s right. The system can’t and isn’t. Legal challenges are being made and even upheld but there’s no guarantee or even sign that Musk is going to honour them. That’s one of the most chilling points my friend, Mark Bergman, made to me over the weekend.

Last week, I included a voice note from my friend, tech investor turned tech campaigner, Roger McNamee, so you could hear direct from an expert about the latest developments in AI. This week I’ve asked Mark to do the honours.

He’s a lawyer, Washington political insider, and since last summer, he’s been participating in ‘War Game’ exercises with Defense Department officials, three-star generals, former Cabinet Secretaries and governors. In five exercises involving 175 people, they situation-tested possible scenarios of a Trump win. But they didn’t see this. It’s even worse than they feared.

“Those challenges have been in respect of shutting down agencies, firing federal employees and engaging in the most egregious hack of government. It all at the hand hands of DOGE, Musk and his band of tech engineers. DC right now is shell-shocked. It is a government town, USA, ID, the FBI, the Department of Justice, Department of Homeland Security, CIA, no federal agency will be spared the revenge and retribution tours in full swing, and huge numbers have been put on administrative leave, reassigned or fired, and the private sector is as much at risk, particularly NGOs and civil society organizations. The more high-profile violate the law, which is why the courts have been quick to enjoin actions. “So yes, we've experienced a coup, not the old fashioned kind, no tanks or mobs, but an undemocratic and hostile takeover of government. It is cruel, it is petty. It can be brutal. It is at once chaotic and surgical. We said the institutions held in 2020 but behind institutions or people, and the extent to which all manner of power structures have preemptively obeyed is hugely worrying. There are legions ready to carry out the Trump agenda. The question is, will the rule of law hold?”

Last Tuesday, Musk tried to lay off the entire CIA. That’s the government body with the slogan ‘We are the nation’s first line of defense’. Every single employee has been offered an unlawful ‘buyout’ - what we call redundancy in the UK - or what 200 former employees - spies - have said is blatant attempt to rebuild it as a political enforcement unit. Over the weekend, the Washington Post reports that new appointees are being presented with “loyalty tests”.

Musk’s troops - because that’s what they are, mercenaries - are acting in criminal, unlawful, unconstitutional ways. Organisations are acting quickly, taking lawsuits, and for now the courts are holding. But the key essential question is whether their rulings can be enforced with a political weaponized Department of Justice and FBI. What Mark Bergman told me (and is in the extended note below) is that they’ve known since the summer that there would be almost no way of pushing back against Trump. This politicisation of all branches of law enforcement creates a vacuum at the heart of the state. As he says in that note, the ramifications of this are little understood outside the people inside Washington who study this for a living.

And at least some of what DOGE is doing can never be undone. Musk, a private citizen, now has vast clouds of citizens’ data, their personal information and it seems likely, classified material. When data is out there, it’s out there. That genie can never be put back into the bottle.

Itt’s what it’s possible to do with that data, that the real nightmare begins. What machine learning algorithms and highly personalised targeting can do. It’s a digital coup. An information coup. And we have to understand what that means. Our fleshy bodies still inhabit earthly spaces but we are all, also, digital beings too. We live in a hybrid reality. And for more than a decade we have been targets of hybrid warfare, waged by hostile nation states whose methodology has been aped and used against us by political parties in a series of disrupted elections marked by illegal behaviour and a lack of any enforcement. But this now takes it to the next level.

It facilitates a concentration of wealth and power - because data is power - of a kind the world has never seen before.

Facebook’s actual corporate motto until 2014 taken from words Mark Zuckerberg spoke was “Move fast and break things”. That phrase has passed into commonplace: we know it, we quote it, we also fail to understand what that means. It means: act illegally and get away with it.

And that is the history of Silicon Valley. Its development and cancerous growth is marked by series of larcenous acts each more grotesque than the last. And Musk’s career is an exemplar of that, a career that has involved rampant criminality, gross invasions of privacy, stock market manipulation. And lies. The Securities and Exchange Commission is currently suing Musk for failing to disclose his ownership stock before he bought Twitter. The biggest mistake right now is to believe anything he says.

Every time, these companies have broken the law, they have simply gotten away with it. I know I’m repeating this, but it’s central to understanding both the mindset and what’s happening on the ground. And no-one exemplifies that more than Musk. The worst that has happened to him is a fine. A slap on the wrist. An insignificant line on a balance sheet. The “cost of doing business”.

On Friday, Robert Reich, the former United States Secretary of Labor, who’s been an essential voice this week, told the readers of his Substack to act now and call their representatives.

“Friends, we are in a national emergency. This is a coup d’etat. Elon Musk was never authorized by Congress to do anything that he’s doing, he was never even confirmed by Congress, his so-called Department of Government Efficiency was never authorized by Congress. Your representatives, your senators and Congressmen have never given him authority to do what he is doing, to take over government departments, to take over entire government agencies, to take over government payments system itself to determine for himself what is an appropriate payment. To arrogate to himself the authority to have your social security number, your private information? Please. Listen, call Congress now.”

It’s a coup

I found myself completely poleaxed on Wednesday. I read this piece on the New York Times website first thing in the morning, a thorough and alarming analysis of headlined “Trump Brazenly Defies Laws in Escalating Executive Power Grab”. It quoted Peter M. Shane, who is a legal scholar in residence at New York University, “programmatic sabotage and rampant lawlessness.” It was displayed prominently on the front page of the New York Times but it was also just one piece among many, a small weak signal amid the overpowering noise.

There’s another word for an “Executive Power Grab”, it’s a coup. And newspapers need to actually write that in big black letters on their front pages and tell their tired, busy, overwhelmed, distracted, scared readers what is happening. That none of this is “business as usual.”

Over on the Guardian’s UK website on Wednesday, there was not a single mention on the front page of what was happening. Trump’s Gaza spectacular diversion strategy drowned out its quotient of American news. We just weren’t seeing what’s happening in the seat of government of our closest ally. As a private citizen mounted a takeover of the cornerstone superpower of the international rules-based order, our crucial NATO ally, our biggest single trading partner, the UK government didn’t even apparently notice.

The downstream potential international consequences of what is happening in America are profound and terrifying. That our government and much of the media is asleep at the wheel is a reason to be more not less terrified. Musk has made his intentions towards our democracy and national security quite clear. What he hasn’t yet had is the backing of the US state. That is shortly going to change. One of the first major stand-offs will be UK and EU tech regulation. I hope I’m wrong but it seems pretty obvious that’s what Musk’s Starmer-aimed tweets are all about. There seems no world in which the EU and the UK aren’t headed for the mother of all trade wars.

And that’s before we even consider the national security ramifications. The prime minister should be convening Cobra now. The Five Eyes - the intelligence sharing network of the US, UK, New Zealand, Australia and Canada - is already likely breached. Trump is going to do individual deals with all major trading partners that’s going to involve preposterous but real threats, including likely dangling the US’s membership of NATO over our heads all while Russia watches, waits and knows that we’ve done almost nothing to prepare. Plans to increase our defence spending have been made but not yet implemented. Our intelligence agencies do understand the precipice we’re on but there’s no indication the government is paying any attention to them. The risks are profound. The international order as we know it is collapsing in real time.

It’s a coup

We all know that the the first thing that happens when a dictator seizes power is that he (it’s always a he) takes control of the radio station. Musk did that months ago. It wasn’t that Elon Musk buying Twitter pre-ordained what is now happening but it made it possible. And it was the moment, minutes after Trump was shot and he went full-in on his campaign that signalled the first shot fired in his digital takeover.

It’s both a mass propaganda machine and also the equivalent of an information drone with a deadly payload. It’s a weapon that’s already been turned on journalists and news organisations this week. There’s much more to come.

On Friday, Musk started following Wikileaks on Twitter. Hours later, twisted, weaponized leaks from USAID began.

This is going to get so much worse. Musk and MAGA will see this as the opening of the Stasi archive. It’s not. It’s rocketfuel for a witchhunt. It’s hybrid warfare against the enemies of the state. It’s going to be ugly and cruel and its targets are going to need help and support. Hands across the water to my friends at OCCRP, the Overseas Crime and Corruption Reporting Project, an investigative journalism organisation that uncovers transnational crime, that’s been in Musk’s sights this weekend, one of hundreds of media organisations around the world whose funding has been slashed overnight.

It’s a coup

By now you may feel scared and helpless. It’s how I felt this week. I had the same sick feeling I had watching UK political coverage before the pandemic. The government was just going to ignore the wave of deaths rippling from China to Italy and pretend it wasn’t happening? Really? That’s the plan?

This is another pandemic. Or a Chernobyl. It’s a bomb at the heart of the international order whose toxic fallout is going to inevitably drift our way.

My internal alarm bell, a sense of urgency and anxiety goes even further back. To early 2017, when I uncovered information about Cambridge Analytica’s illegal hack of data from Facebook while the company’s VP, Steve Bannon, was then on the National Security Council. That concept of highly personalised data in the control of a ruthless and political operator was what tripped my emergency wires. That is a reality now.

The point is that the shock and awe is meant to make us feel helpless. So I’m telling a bit of my own personal story here. Because part of what temporarily paralyzed me last week was that this is all happening while my own small corner of the mainstream media is collapsing in on itself too. The event that I’ve spent the last eight years warning about has come to pass and in a month, 100+ of my colleagues at the Guardian will be out of the door and my employment will be terminated. I will no longer have the platform of the news organisation where I’ve done my entire body of work to date and was able to communicate to a global audience.

But then, it’s all connected. We are living through an information crisis. It’s what underpins everything. In some ways, this happening now is not surprising at all. Moreover, many of the people who I see as essential voices during this crisis (including those above) are doing that effectively and independently from Substack as I will try to continue to do.

And, the key thing that the last eight years has given me is information. The lawsuit I fought for four years as a result of doing this work very almost floored me. But it didn’t. And I’ve learned essential skills during those years. It was part of what powered me to fight for the rights of Guardian journalists during our strike this December.

The next fightback against Musk and the Broligarchy has to draw from the long, long fight for workers rights which in turn influenced the fight for civil rights that must now power us on as we face the great unknown. What comes next has to be a fight for our data rights, our human rights.

This was former Guardian journalist Gary Younge on our picket line and I’ve thought about these words a lot. You have to fight even if you won’t necessarily win. Power is almost never given up freely.

If you value any of this and want me to be able to continue, I’d be really grateful if you signed up, free, or even better, paid subscription. And I’d also urge you to sign up also for the Citizen Dispatch, that’s the newsletter from the non-profit I founded that campaigns around these issues. There is much more it can and needs to do.

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anixvl · 4 months ago

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SWEET || y.j

pairing: boxer!jungwon x detective!fem!reader

synopsis: After barely surviving a near-fatal injury, Jungwon wakes up with fractured memories, unable to remember the woman who once meant everything to him—you. Believing he’s better off without the painful past you shared, you make the heartbreaking choice to walk away, only for fate to keep pulling you back together. Despite your resistance, Jungwon relentlessly pursues you, drawn to the connection he doesn’t fully understand. But as pieces of his past resurface—memories of love, heartbreak, and the life you tried to leave behind—the truth becomes impossible to hide. Now, faced with the weight of everything lost, you must decide: will you risk it all for love again, or let the past remain forgotten? (pt 3 of bittersweet)

genre: strangers-to-lovers, second chance troupe, fate/destiny, Mix of angst and fluff!!

warnings: Smut MDNI, angst, infatuated jungwon, down-bad jungwon, oral!fem receiving, p in v, cursing, hospital, etc

wc: 13.7k

a/n: this is the end for the ‘bittersweet’ series! This one is a bit long, but it’s worth it! Thank you for all the support 🤍

The world was a blur of flashing red lights, distant voices, and the suffocating scent of antiseptic.

You sat motionless in the hospital hallway, your hands stained with his blood. It had dried beneath your fingernails, soaked into the fabric of your clothes, and no matter how much you scrubbed at your skin, it wouldn’t come off.

It felt like a permanent tattoo, a scar.

Jungwon had been alive when they took him from your arms. Barely.

But now? Now you didn’t know.

A machine beeped steadily behind the doors of the emergency room, each sound cutting through you like a blade.

"Take anything from me. Just let him live,” you cried, praying quietly.

The door swung open, and a doctor stepped out, his expression unreadable. You stood up quickly.

“Tell me," you begged.

The doctor sighed, exhaustion heavy in his gaze. "We managed to stabilize him. But the damage was extensive. He lost a lot of blood, which led him into an arrest and arrived here in a state of shock."

You exhaled a shaky breath, the weight on your chest lifting—just for a second.

“So…w-what does that mean?” you held onto your hands.

"He suffered global anoxic brain damage…”

“Wait…so—”

“He’s in a coma.”

The world stopped.

"A coma?" you echoed, your voice breaking on the word.

"His body fought hard to stay alive, but his brain… it’s still recovering. Right now, we don’t know when or if he’ll wake up."

Your knees nearly gave out. A wave of sickness washing over you.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. You had fought for justice, for truth—for both of you to make it out alive. But now, he was trapped somewhere you couldn’t reach.

And it was all your fault.

"Can I see him?" your eyes watered.

The doctor hesitated, then nodded.

You forced yourself to move, step by agonizing step, until you were inside his room.

Jungwon lay still beneath the dim hospital lights, the strong, unshakable fighter you knew now surrounded by machines keeping him alive. His face was pale, his lips chapped, his chest rising and falling in a slow, unnatural rhythm.

You reached for his hand, the same hand that had held yours so many times before.

But this time, he didn’t hold you back. This time, it lacked the comforting warmth he radiated.

Tears burned down your cheeks as you whispered, "Please, Jungwon. Don’t leave me like this. You have to wake up.”

But he didn’t respond.

And for the first time since you met him—

Jungwon was completely, utterly silent.

Days blurred together in the sterile glow of the hospital room. You lost track of time, only aware of the steady, mechanical beeping of Jungwon’s heart monitor.

You stayed by his side. Every day. Every night.

Doctors came and went, speaking in hushed tones, their expressions carefully blank when they looked at you. They told you he was stable, but stability wasn’t enough. You needed him to wake up. But he didn’t.

His brother, Seokjin, visited as frequent as you did. He moved Jungwon to a more private, expensive, hospital. But you didn’t care where he was as long as he just woke up.

"Ms. y/l/n?"

You startled, looking up from where you sat curled in the chair beside Jungwon’s bed. The doctor stood at the door, holding his clipboard with that same unreadable expression.

"Can we speak outside?"

Out in the hallway, the doctor sighed.

"There hasn’t been any improvement in his condition. His brain scans show activity, which means there’s a chance he could wake up, but…"

"But what?"

He gave you a careful look, "Even if he does wake up, there’s a possibility of… memory loss."

The words hit you like a slap.

"Memory loss?”

The doctor kept talking—explaining the effects of prolonged unconsciousness, the risks, the rehabilitation process—but you barely heard him.

Because all you could think about was the possibility that if Jungwon woke up—

He might not remember you.

You shook your head, forcing down the fear clawing at your chest, "But he will wake up, right?"

The doctor hesitated again.

"We hope so."

Hope.

That was all they could give you.

And somehow, it didn’t feel like enough.

A month later, still, you found yourself next to him. You’ve gotten used to the smell of antiseptic and the nurses that went by.

You should have gone home.

People told you to. Begged you to. But you couldn’t.

Instead, you sat in the same chair beside Jungwon’s bed, your fingers loosely wrapped around his unmoving hand. His body had healed—at least on the outside. The bruises had faded, the wounds had scarred over.

Looked as beautiful as the day he left you.

But still, he slept. Still, you waited.

You didn’t know what woke you, but you had the sudden urge to go out. To breathe, to leave the hospital for a bit.

You headed to the nearest convenience store, placing small to-go meals into your basket. You hadn’t much appetite since that day. And then, your phone ringed.

You take it out from your pocket, glancing at the contact. It’s Seokjin.

You quickly answer, tired and still groggy.

“Y/n, you need to get here. Fast,” his voice laced with urgency.

Your heart dropped, imagining the worse. Could it be that he let go? Could it be that he suddenly got worse?

“Why, what’s wrong? I’m on my way,” you scrambled out of the store, running back to the hospital with the phone in hand.

You ran across the road, cars honking at you at close range of almost hitting you. You continue running, your chest rising and sweat accumulating on your body.

You run down the hallways and into Jungwons room. You abruptly stop at the doorway. You’re panting, your eyes scanning him. You froze.

Because for the first time in two months, Jungwon’s eyes were open.

You sucked in a breath, so shocked that you nearly tipped over. His gaze was hazy, unfocused, his brows pinched like he was trying to make sense of where he was.

"Jungwon?" Seokjin called out, placing a hand over his head.

You approached him slowly, cautiously. Fearfully.

His eyes flickered to you, blinking slowly. And for a moment—just a moment—hope surged inside you.

Then he spoke, "...Who are you?"

The world went quiet.

He didn’t remember you.

And just like that—the love you fought so hard for was gone.

Silence filled the room, thick and suffocating.

You couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe.

Because Jungwon was looking at you—like you were a stranger.

His deep brown eyes, the ones that once traced over you with warmth, curiosity, and that infuriating smirk, now held nothing but confusion.

"Who are you?"

The words rang in your head, like a broken melody.

You tried to speak, but your voice caught in your throat.

A doctor rushed in, nurses following behind, all of them suddenly moving around him, checking monitors, asking him questions.

But you just stood there, frozen, drowning in the reality of what had just happened.

"Jungwon, do you know where you are?" the doctor asked.

Jungwon blinked, his face still pale, his movements slow and stiff.

"Hospital?" His voice was hoarse, unused for too long.

"That’s right," the doctor said with a small nod, scribbling something onto his clipboard.

“Do you remember what happened to you?”

Jungwon’s brows furrowed, "No."

Your stomach twisted.

The doctor exchanged glances with a nurse before asking, "Do you remember your name?"

Jungwon hesitated for a second, “…Yeah. Jungwon. Yang Jungwon."

Relief flickered across the doctor’s face, “Good. Do you remember anyone in this room?"

Your breath caught in your throat.

Jungwon’s gaze slowly scanned the people around him. He glanced at the doctor. The nurses. Seokjin. Then—

His eyes landed on you.

He stared for a long moment, his lips slightly parted, like something was almost there, something he was trying to grasp—

Then, finally, he spoke.

“Apart from my brother. No. I don’t."

You didn’t remember walking out of the room. You didn’t remember how you ended up in the empty hospital hallway, your breath coming in shallow gasps as the weight of it all crashed down on you.

Your hands trembled. Your vision blurred.

This was worse than anything you had ever imagined.

Jungwon was alive. But he wasn’t yours anymore.

A voice called your name from behind, and you turned to see the doctor stepping out of the room, his expression careful.

"He suffered trauma to his brain. Cases like this… the memories might return, but it’s unpredictable. It could take weeks, months—years. Or…" He hesitated.

You swallowed, “Or never."

The doctor’s silence was answer enough.

You nodded numbly, your hands curling into fists, "So what now?"

"For now, we focus on rehabilitation. Reintroducing him to familiar places, people. It’s possible something could trigger his memories."

You let out a bitter laugh. Trigger his memories? The memories you fought for, bled for, nearly died for? It’s not even possible.

Would he ever remember the way he had held you? The way he had whispered your name like it was a promise? The way he had kissed you like you were the only thing keeping him alive?

Or were those moments gone forever?

The doctor sighed, “It’s your choice how much you want to be involved. Sometimes, familiarity helps. Other times… it makes things harder."

If Jungwon looked at you every day and still saw nothing… how could you bear it?

You inhaled sharply, forcing the tears down. Then, you made your decision.

"I think… it’s best if I don’t see him."

The words felt like a knife to your own chest, but you had to do this.

Jungwon had been given a second chance. A blank slate. He could find the happiness and peace he didn’t have with you leading to his very last moments.

And you would be selfish to take away that from him.

Maybe it was better if you let him have it—without you.

And so, you turned away.

Seokjin was waiting for you. You had barely made it down the hospital corridor when you saw him leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his usually unreadable expression clouded with something heavier. Something almost hesitant.

"You heard," you murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, “Yeah."

Of course, he had. Seokjin had been here almost as much as you had. He never strayed far, watching over Jungwon in his own quiet, guilt-ridden way.

Now, his sharp gaze flickered over you, taking in your shaking hands, your too-pale face, the way you looked like you had just lost everything—because you had.

"He really doesn’t remember you…" he said, almost as if he couldn’t believe it either.

Your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to nod.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The hallway felt too quiet, the walls too suffocating.

Then, Seokjin pushed off the wall, his usual confidence dimmed by something close to regret. "So, what now? You’re just gonna leave?"

You stiffened, “It’s not that simple."

He scoffed, “It is, actually. Either you stay and fight for him, or you walk away and pretend none of it ever happened."

Your fingers curled into fists, “You think this is easy for me? That I want to leave?"

"Then don’t."

You swallowed hard, shaking your head, "He deserves a fresh start. If I stay, it’ll just confuse him. I won’t do that to him. Not when he has a shot of becoming happy—Truly, this time.”

Seokjin studied you for a long moment. Then, quietly, he said, "You think leaving will make it easier for him? Or for you?"

You turned away, staring at the ground, but Seokjin wasn’t finished.

“You’re scared," he said simply, “Scared that he’ll never remember. That you’ll stand in front of him every damn day and he’ll look right through you."

You flinched, his words cutting too deep, too true.

Seokjin exhaled, the usual sharp edge to his voice softening.

"Look. I’m not gonna tell you what to do. But I know my brother. Even if he doesn’t remember you now, he will. And if he doesn’t…" He hesitated, "Then you make him fall for you all over again."

Your breath hitched.

“You did it once, you can do it again. And oh, was he stupid in love with you. That dumbass,” he chuckled bitterly to himself.

You stayed silent, in battle with your heart and mind.

Seokjin sighed, raking a hand through his hair before stepping back, "You love him, don’t you?"

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to.

Seokjin nodded, as if that was all he needed to hear, "Then ask yourself something: if the roles were reversed, would Jungwon give up on you?”

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you alone in the hallway with nothing but your fractured heart and the impossible weight of a choice you weren’t sure you were strong enough to make.

You told yourself you wouldn’t see him again. You told yourself it would be easier this way. But things never seem to go your way.

So when Seokjin asked you to check in on him while he handled something, you didn’t have the heart to say no.

And that’s how you ended up standing in front of Jungwon’s hospital room again, your pulse racing, your hands clenched into fists at your sides.

You hesitated before stepping inside.

Jungwon was sitting up now, something he hadn’t been able to do the last time you saw him awake. His dark hair was still slightly disheveled, his body thinner than before, but the strength in his posture, the sharp focus in his eyes—it was all undeniably him.

Except, he wasn’t looking at you with the familiarity you had once known.

His gaze flickered to you, polite but confused.

You forced a small smile, masking the ache behind it, “Hey. Your brother sent me here. How are you feeling?”

Jungwon exhaled, rolling his shoulders slightly.

“Like I got hit by a truck,” He paused, then gave a half-smirk, “Did I?”

You almost laughed. The familiarity of his humor, even without his memories, was a cruel kind of comfort. You gave a small smile, looking down.

“No,” you said softly, “Something worse.”

His expression shifted, but he didn’t push. Instead, he nodded towards the chair beside his bed, “You can sit, if you want.”

You hesitated.

You shouldn’t stay, but you sat anyway.

For a moment, silence settled between you. It should have been uncomfortable, but it wasn’t.

Jungwon studied you carefully, “You’ve been here before.”

You froze, “What?”

He tilted his head slightly, “We met. Before today, when I woke up. You were there. Also, the nurses mentioned you.”

You looked away, “I came to visit a few times.”

Jungwon hummed, “Thought so.”

He stared at you for a long moment before speaking again, “Were we close?”

The question knocked the air from your lungs.

Were we close?

No. We were everything.

But you didn’t say that.

Instead, you gave him the only answer you could, “Not really. I’m just a friend of your brother. We saw each other a few times. My name is y/n.”

Jungwon nodded, like he was accepting the answer without fully understanding it.

“Oh, so that’s it?” he murmured.

You frowned, “What is?”

He exhaled, leaning back against the pillows, “I don’t remember you, but… I feel like I should.”

His fingers brushed absentmindedly against yours, his voice softer now, “Like something’s missing.”

Your heart clenched.

It was missing. Everything.

You.

But you had already made your choice.

So you swallowed the lump in your throat and forced another smile.

“Maybe it’ll come back,” you said, even though you weren’t sure who you were trying to convince.

Jungwon watched you carefully, as if searching for something in your expression.

Then he nodded, “Maybe.”

The next few days passed in a blur of routine. Physical therapy sessions. Doctor check-ups. Seokjin’s protective presence hovering over Jungwon like a silent guardian.

And then there was you. You weren’t supposed to stay. You told yourself you wouldn’t.

But somehow, you always found yourself at the hospital.

Seokjin never said anything when you showed up. He just gave you a knowing look, then left you and Jungwon alone.

And Jungwon… he didn’t seem to mind your presence.

Even if he didn’t know why.

"You're here again," Jungwon noted, his voice laced with something you couldn’t quite place. Amusement? Curiosity?

You shifted in the chair beside his bed, “Seokjin asked me to check in."

Jungwon arched a brow, “He did?"

No. He hadn’t.

But you didn’t take it back.

Jungwon hummed, studying you, “I think you just like visiting me.”

You rolled your eyes, relieved that some things hadn’t changed—even if he didn’t remember you, his smugness remained intact, “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Jungwon grinned, but it faded quickly. His fingers traced along the IV line in his arm.

"I still don't remember anything," he admitted, quieter this time.

You looked down at the porridge in your hands, lifting it up to his mouth to eat, “It’ll take time.”

He nodded absently, taking the spoonful, "So tell me something..."

You hesitated, “What do you want to know?"

Jungwon tilted his head, “Are you with him? My brother?"

Your eyebrows furrowed, you lips parting, “w-what?”

“Are you my brother’s girlfriend? I knew he had a thing for women younger than him but this is…”

“I’m not his girlfriend,” you blinked, shocked at his misunderstanding.

Is that what he thought all along?

“good,” he mumbled.

Your eyes flickered. You looked up at him.

What does that even mean?

"You love strawberries with chocolate," you changed the topic.

Jungwon blinked, “Do I?"

You nodded, “You said it was the best combination. You ranted about it for at least twenty minutes.”

Jungwon laughed softly, shaking his head, “That does sound like me.”

For a second, something flickered in his eyes. Recognition? A trace of the past?

But then, just as quickly, it was gone.

You were helping Jungwon walk. His recovery was slow, frustratingly so. Every step took effort, every movement was a reminder of how weak his body had become.

And yet, he pushed through.

You kept your hands close, ready to catch him if he faltered, “You’re doing good,” you murmured.

Jungwon scoffed, “You don’t have to lie."

You almost smiled, “I’m not.”

He exhaled, eyes locked ahead, determined, “Were you always like this?"

< “Are you always this shameless?” >

Jungwon briefly stops. He shuts his eyes, trying to hide the pain in his head at the sudden voice in his head. What was that?

You blinked, “Like what?"

Jungwon’s grip tightened around the rail, shaking it off, as he took another shaky step, “Always looking at me like that.”

Your breath hitched.

"Like what?" you repeated, quieter this time.

Jungwon didn’t look at you, but his voice was softer, “Like you care.”

You wanted to tell him everything. Wanted to scream that you loved him, that you had never stopped.

But instead, you just smiled, “Maybe.”

Jungwon gave you a look, but he didn’t push.

Instead, he just kept walking. And you stayed beside him.

Even if he didn’t remember. Even if he never would.

Soon, Jungwon was improving.

Each day, his steps became steadier, his movements less strained. The bruises had faded, the wounds had healed—but the gaps in his memory remained.

And yet, there were moments.

Little moments.

Moments where he looked at you too long, as if his mind was trying to recognize something his heart already knew.

Moments where he reached for you instinctively, then pulled away before he could question why.

Moments where you caught him watching you when he thought you weren’t looking.

But he never said anything.

And neither did you.

Because you had made your choice. Even if it was getting harder to keep it.

You were sitting by his bedside, absentmindedly peeling an orange when Jungwon spoke.

“You’re different from Seokjin.”

You looked up, “What do you mean?”

Jungwon leaned back against the pillows, arms crossed, “He talks to me as if he’s afraid I’ll break if he says the wrong thing. He was never like that.”

You frowned, “He’s just worried about you.”

“I know,” Jungwon murmured, “But you don’t do that.”

You hesitated, unsure of what to say.

Jungwon studied you carefully, “Why?”

‘Because I know you. Because I’ve seen you at your strongest. Because I fell in love with you when you were unbreakable,’ you thought.

But you couldn’t say any of that.

So instead, you shrugged, “Maybe I just have more faith in you.”

Jungwon’s lips curled slightly, “I think you know more than you’re telling me.”

Your heart pounded, “What makes you say that?”

Jungwon reached for the orange in your hands, his fingers brushing yours, “Because every time I ask about my past, you look like you’re about to run.”

You stiffened, your grip tightening around the fruit.

Jungwon didn’t press. He just peeled a slice off, popping it into his mouth.

But the tension hung in the air. Because he was right.

You were running.

And deep down, you knew you couldn’t run forever.

The room smelled like antiseptic, and the hum of machines was always there, but today, there was something else.

Jungwon had been trying to walk on his own. You followed behind him, making sure he didn’t hurt himself.

“Careful,” you warned, your voice low as you followed his slow, deliberate steps.

Jungwon didn’t look back at you, his gaze focused ahead, but there was a glint in his eye, “I don’t need a babysitter.”

You rolled your eyes. “If you weren’t such a show-off, I wouldn’t have to babysit you.”

<Jungwon turned, searching the crowd, and when his eyes landed on you—he smirked.

“Show-off” you crossed your arms over your chest. >

He stumbled to a halt. His eyes flickered as the image before his eyes flashed, blurry and foggy. Who was that woman? And what was he doing there? He cleared his throat, dismissing the thoughts.

He scoffed, but his lips twitched up at the corners, “You mean you like being my personal nurse?”

You tilted your head, pretending to think, “You could say that. But I’m really just here to make sure you don’t fall and break your face.”

Jungwon shot you a side-glance, “I could break your heart, too, you know.”

The words hit you like a wave, and for a moment, everything else disappeared. That voice, that playful banter— it felt like the old Jungwon was there again.

You couldn’t stop the small laugh that escaped your lips, “What happened to the guy who worriedly asked if I was their brother’s girlfriend?”

Jungwon blinked, flustered and suddenly embarrassed.

“I was not worried! Secondly, I just wanted to know how my brother got a pretty girl by his side. You must be crazy to date that old hag,” he ranted, defensively.

You laughed at him, noticing how his shoulders relaxed as he took another step. Despite the weight of the situation, there was a lightness between you two.

“Well i’m not. Don’t worry,” you teased.

And for a fleeting moment, you imagined what it would be like to have things just as they were.

<Your face burned as you shoved his arm off and sat up, scowling at him, “You were the one holding onto me!”

Jungwon stretched lazily, completely unfazed, “I was asleep. You, on the other hand, let it happen.”

Your glare could have melted steel, “I was asleep, you idiot.” >

But the reality hit you again. He didn’t remember.

You caught yourself staring at him, your heart fluttering against your chest.

He must’ve felt your gaze, because he turned his head slightly, “What?”

You quickly looked away, your cheeks warm, “Nothing. Just making sure you don’t fall again.”

Jungwon chuckled, “I told you. I’m fine.”

But his voice had softened, his gaze secretly lingering on you as he thought back to the moment he had earlier.

You had fallen asleep in the chair next to his bed.

Jungwon watched you for a long time, studying the delicate rise and fall of your breath, the way your eyebrows furrowed even in rest—like you were still fighting some unseen battle in your dreams.

<"I love you," he breathed out, his voice firm but gentle, "so ardently." >

He didn’t understand it.

Didn’t understand why the sight of you filled him with something heavy, something aching. Every time, unlocking a new memory; Still foggy yet he feels it involves you every time. What is it about you?

Why did you feel familiar when nothing else did?

Jungwon reached out instinctively—his fingers barely ghosting over yours before he hesitated. He stopped abruptly at a piercing pain in his head.

<“I truly don’t think I can be without you, y/n. I love you so much it hurts. So please…please, baby…if you can find it in you to love me one more time, i’ll spend the rest of my life in proving it to you. Just one,” he begged, “please love me one more time.”>

His eyes flickered. If he wasn’t sure before, he is now. Its you. The woman in his foggy memories. His eyes teared up, yet he didn’t know why. Before he knew it, his mind acted on for him.

He gently brushed his fingertips against the back of your hand. Just for a second. Just to confirm that you were real.

You stirred, blinking blearily awake.

Jungwon froze. He wiped his teary eyes.

Your eyes found his, confusion laced with something deeper—something raw.

"Jungwon?" Your voice was hoarse from sleep.

He pulled back his hand, swallowing, “You fell asleep here.”

You sat up, rubbing your eyes, “Yeah, I—” You stopped, staring at him as if trying to read his thoughts, “Do you need something?”

Jungwon hesitated.

He wanted to say, ‘Tell me why my body reacts to you as if it’s known you forever. Tell me why my heart aches to be with you. Tell me why the woman in my memories resembles you.’

Instead, he just shook his head.

“Nothing,” he murmured, “It’s nothing.”

But the way you looked at him told him it was everything.

It was raining. The soft patter of water against the window created a soothing rhythm, but inside the hospital room, the stillness was punctuated only by the soft sounds of Jungwon stirring in his bed as he watched his old boxing competitions.

You were sitting beside him, pretending to read your own novel, but really, you were watching him.

His brows furrowed in concentration as he watched the TV, and for a moment, you could almost pretend nothing had changed.

“Do you ever stop staring at me?” Jungwon asked without looking away from the TV.

You blinked, startled, “I—what?”

He looked at you, turning the TV off, his lips curling into a teasing smile, “You’ve been staring at me for the past five minutes.”

You tried to play it cool, turning the pages of your book and pretending to be absorbed, “You’re imagining things.”

Jungwon’s smile widened, though there was a soft vulnerability behind it now, “Right. Of course.”

You glanced up again, your eyes meeting his. And for a second, everything seemed to fall away. He was looking at you differently now—like he was trying to remember something, something that might be just out of reach.

“Do you ever remember anything?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Jungwon’s smile faded. He sighed, “I keep getting flashes. Moments that feel real. But it’s like I can’t put them together.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. You didn’t know he had them at all.

There were so many questions you wanted to ask. But instead, you just nodded, “Maybe it’ll come back to you.”

He nodded along, though there was a wistful look in his eyes.

“I hope it does,” he muttered. Then, after a pause, he turned toward you, his expression serious.

“You’re important to me,” his gaze softens, “Even if I don’t remember why, I… I can tell.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“I’m here,” you whispered, unable to keep the truth from your voice, “I’ll always be here.”

For a long moment, Jungwon didn’t speak. He just looked at you, his gaze intense and thoughtful.

And then, as if without thinking, he reached out, his hand cupping your cheek.

The touch was soft, tentative, but it made your breath catch in your throat. His eyes glanced down at your lips, then back at your eyes.

You didn’t pull away.

Instead, you overlapped your hands over his.

And for the first time since the accident, you felt the spark—the undeniable, electric spark that had been there between you two all along.

But you were scared. Scared that it was fleeting. Scared that he’d pull away when the memories came back.

All you could do for now was hold on.

Finally, the day of Jungwon’s discharge arrived.

The doctors had signed off on his recovery, and though he still needs rest, they were confident he was well enough to leave the hospital.

But for you? It felt like the moment everything was going to break.

Jungwon had been through so much. His body had fought its way back to him, slowly but surely, and now, it was almost like he was starting to piece together some kind of new life. You’d been by his side through it all, and a part of you had let yourself believe that things could somehow go back to the way they were.

But they couldn’t. They shouldn’t.

He didn’t remember. He shouldn’t remember. He shouldn’t remember the bond you had, the love you shared. Because it was all, for the most part, painful memories. He didn’t even know who you were to him.

And yet, every day you spent with him, that pull—the undeniable connection—grew stronger. The more time passed, the harder it became to imagine walking away.

But you had to. You had to let him go.

You had to make a decision now, while he still didn’t remember. Because once he did, once those memories came rushing back, you knew the truth would tear you both apart.

So, while Jungwon was packing up the few things in his hospital room, you stood by the window, staring at the busy streets below.

“I’m almost ready,” Jungwon’s voice broke through your thoughts.

You glanced over your shoulder at him, forcing a smile. “I’ll go get the car ready,” you said.

Jungwon nodded, clearly distracted by his thoughts. He was back to his radiant, handsome, cocky self. Like he was before.

And that’s exactly why you had to leave.

You were standing by the car, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on you. The sky above was clouded, as if even the universe was mourning with you. You stared out at the passing cars, waiting for Jungwon to catch up to you.

But when you saw him approaching, something in your chest tightened.

His hair was still a little messy from the hospital bed, his eyes still a little too distant. But there was something there—something you couldn’t ignore. Something that reached inside of you and made everything feel more fragile.

Before, he looked through you blankly: like a stranger.

But now…now he’s looking at you. He may not know the you from before, but he knows the you of now.

Jungwon stopped a few feet away from you, his brow furrowed, “Hey, is everything okay?”

You swallowed hard, turning away from him so he wouldn’t see the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes, “Yeah, everything’s fine.”

But your voice cracked, betraying you.

Jungwon took a step forward, concern flashing across his face, “You don’t sound fine.”

He reached out to you, but before he could land a touch on your skin, you moved away.

“I’m fine. Let’s just go. We’re already late,” you opened the car door.

Jungwon studied you, his gaze unwavering, “I don’t believe you.”

“I just… I need to go back to my place for a bit,” you said quickly, your voice strained.

“I’ll meet you there in a couple of hours. Is that okay?” you continued.

Jungwon’s face softened, but there was still a question in his eyes, “Are you sure? Can I get your phone number just in ca—”

You cut him off, “Yeah, it’s fine. I just need some time to…” You trail off, not knowing how to finish the sentence.

But Jungwon didn’t push. Instead, he just nodded, his eyes still locked on you, “Okay. I’ll see you later.”

And then he turned and walked away.

And the moment he disappeared inside the chofer driver car Seokjin had sent for him, you felt your heart shatter in your chest.

You didn’t turn back to watch him leave. You didn’t let yourself.

Because if you did, you’d never be able to walk away.

You kept true to your word; You never showed up. You didn’t reach out. You didn’t come visit him at his house. Nothing.

Days passed. Then weeks. Each one felt heavier than the last. You kept yourself busy—burying yourself in work, drowning in cases, forcing yourself to move forward because if you stopped for even a second, the weight of everything would crash down on you.

But no matter how hard you tried to outrun it, the emptiness followed.

It didn’t go unnoticed; Jungwon waited, worriedly for you ever since that day you parted. He wanted to find you, to look for you. He didn’t know how, he didn’t know where to look. His brother wouldn’t give him answers either. He didn’t know why he cared so much. But he found himself angry, that you never came. He hated himself, for letting you occupy his mind when he’s only known you for such little time. Yet, he found himself looking for you in every room he entered. Hoping, wishing, you’d be there.

But you never came.

The city felt different without Jungwon. Even though he was still alive, it felt like you had lost him.

Seokjin called you a few times, but you never picked up. You didn’t need another reminder of what you had walked away from.

But then, after nearly a month of silence, he sent a message that shattered every last bit of distance you had tried to put between you and Jungwon.

‘He’s asking about you.’

Your hands trembled as you stared at the text.

You read it once. Then twice.

‘He’s asking about me,’ you thought.

You shouldn’t have let it affect you. You had promised yourself you wouldn’t let it hurt anymore.

But it did. It tore you apart.

And against your better judgment, you typed back.

‘What did he say?’

A few seconds later, Seokjin replied.

‘He doesn’t entirely remember you. But he keeps having dreams about someone. He thinks it might be you.’

You sucked in a sharp breath.

Your fingers curled around your phone, gripping it so tightly your knuckles turned white.

He doesn’t remember you entirely, but somehow—some part of him still feels you.

Your mind raced with everything this could mean. Was it just a coincidence? Was his subconscious trying to remember?

Or was fate just playing another cruel trick on you?

You had made your choice. You had walked away.

But what if Jungwon was already starting to find his way back?

And worse—what if you weren’t strong enough to stop him?

You weren’t supposed to see him again.

You told yourself that over and over as you tried to move on.

But fate had other plans.

The first time it happened was purely by accident.

You were rushing out of a café, coffee in one hand, your phone in the other, too distracted to notice the man walking toward you.

By the time you looked up, it was too late.

You crashed into him.

The impact sent your coffee spilling, the hot liquid seeping into your sleeve. You barely managed to stammer out a curse before you caught sight of the familiar face staring down at you.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Jungwon.

He had fully healed since the last time you saw him. His face was good as new, his walk was steady and normal, but his expression was still the same—sharp, intense. Only this time, there was something else behind his gaze.

Shock. Worry. Anger.

"Y/n…A-Are you okay?" he asked, his voice deeper than you remembered.

You swallowed hard, stepping back, “I’m fine."

His brows furrowed, eyes narrowing slightly as if he was trying to make sure it was really you. That he wasn’t dreaming.

Jungwon’s gaze lingered on you for a moment too long before he looked at the mess of coffee on your sleeve.

“Where have you been? Why didn’t you come see me?” He asked, this time his anger seeping in his worry.

Your lips parted slightly, “I…was busy. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t give me that shit,” he blurted.

It took you by surprise.

“Do you have any idea how worried I was for you? How could you disappear without a word?”

You should have walked away.

Instead, you caught yourself staring at him.

At the way his fingers twitched at his sides, at the way his brows furrowed like he was trying to figure you out. And the way his eyes pierced through you, filled with so much emotion.

"Aren’t you going to say anything?”

“I-I don’t know what to say, Jungwon. We barely knew each other, let alone call each other friends—”

He scoffed, “Yeah, right. Friends don’t tuck each other to bed, feed you, help you sleep, or stick by your side so insistently!”

Your eyes widen at his sudden confession. He grabbed your arm.

“We aren’t friends. Fuck—We’re far from just that. So don’t give me that bullshit,” his jaw tightened.

But to you, it was like reopening a wound you had barely managed to stitch closed.

Before you could say anything, he pulled you into an embrace. Taking in your scent, your warmth, and the way you feel against his body.

All familiar to him, yet he can’t place it.

Tears stubbed in your eyes. Why was he doing this? You worked so hard to let this go, yet fate would just simply not let you.

You held him back.

“Don’t leave again. I really won’t forgive you,” he mumbled.

You saw him again a week later. This time, it wasn’t an accident.

You had gone to visit Seokjin, but it was really for other intentions than you would have liked to admit.

You stepped inside the gym, that’s where you saw him.

Sweat dripped down his temple, his knuckles wrapped in tape as he threw a sharp jab at the punching bag. The sound echoed through the gym, each punch precise, calculated. The way it always had been.

Seokjin noticed you before Jungwon did. His expression tensed, but before he could say anything, Jungwon followed his gaze—straight to you.

Something flickered in his eyes.

Recognition. Joy.

“Y/n,” he muttered, wiping his face with the hem of his shirt. He walked over to you, a dimpled smile on his handsome face.

“You’re here,” he breathed out, shocked yet relieved.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to stay still, “Guess so.”

Seokjin cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the sudden tension, “Jungwon, she was just here to speak with me—”

“Are you staying for dinner?” he cut in before Seokjin could say anything else.

You were taken by surprise, looking between Seokjin and Jungwon.

“…sure?” you hesitated.

Jungwon’s eyes lit, hiding his proud smile on his face, “cool.”

“Yeah. You should treat me after you almost burned my arm off with coffee,” you smiled.

A ghost of a smirk touched his lips, “You walked into me.”

The teasing was so natural, so him, that for a second, you almost forgot.

Forgot that he didn’t remember the way he used to tease you.

Forgot that this wasn’t the same Jungwon who used to call you annoying just to get a rise out of you, then kiss you like you were the only thing keeping him alive.

Seokjin cleared his throat. “Jungwon’s been training again,” he said, clearly trying to ease the tension, “He’s been doing well.”

Jungwon shrugged, “Guess muscle memory does the work for me.”

Seokjin shifted uncomfortably, “Hey, why don’t we—”

"Do you box?"

Jungwon’s sudden question caught you off guard.

You blinked at him, confused, “What?”

He tilted his head slightly, “You just… carry yourself like someone who knows how to fight.”

Seokjin stiffened beside you.

Your throat tightened. Of course he would notice. Even without his memories, he still saw you.

You forced yourself to relax, shrugging, “A little.”

Jungwon studied you for a long moment, then—he smirked.

It was barely there, but it was enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Seokjin talks about you, you know.”

Your heart stopped.

Seokjin immediately tensed beside you. “Jungwon—”

Jungwon ignored him. His eyes stayed on you, his expression unreadable, “Says you’re a good fighter.”

You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know what this meant.

So you did the only thing you could: You smiled, “Seokjin flatters me.”

Jungwon let out a small chuckle, but there was something else behind it—something deeper, something lingering.

You eventually had dinner at their house, consequently leading to stay over in their guest room due to horrid weather conditions.

It happened late at night. Jungwon had a nightmare. You knew he had them when you would walk past his hospital room late at night. But you didn’t think he still had them. Going down the hallway for a glass of water in the middle of the night was when you heard him murmuring in his sleep—murmuring your name.

You froze. For a moment, you thought you had imagined it. But then—

“No… don’t go…”

Your stomach twisted.

You stepped inside, careful not to wake him. His brows were furrowed, his body tense, beads of sweat forming at his temple.

You hesitated, then, before you could stop yourself, you reached out.

Your fingers brushed against his softly. He tightly gripped onto your arm, startling you. And then, it got worse. His mumbles became more incoherent and loud. You needed to wake him up before it escalated.

You flinched in pain as his grip became tighter. You shook him, “Jungwon. Wake up, it’s just a dream.”

He didn’t budge the first time. You shook him harder, cupping his cheek tenderly. You called out to him, softly.

“Jungwon, Hey, it’s me, Y/n. I’m here. It’s okay, sh,” you comforted him.

And then, his stir stopped, his breathing steadied, and his grip became loose.

His eyes flicker open as you brush off his beaded sweat on his forehead with your soft hands.

“Y/n?” he asked, his voice raspy.

“Hey, you were having a nightmare,” you explained, softly.

His face relaxed at the sight of you, he pulled you onto him, embracing you.

You stiffen, unsure of what to do. You try to pull away but his grip became tighter.

“Don’t. Just…let me stay like this for a little,” he whispers.

You don’t fight it. This night, this moment, you let yourself succumb to all the hopes and dreams you had.

“Y/n,” he breathes out.

“yes?” you replied softly.

“Can i kiss you?” he asked.

You look up from his chest to face him, shocked.

“W-What?”

“Can I kiss you?” he repeated, his gaze unwavering.

You don’t say anything, you don’t know what to say.

You swallow, hard. Then you nod.

His eyes glance down at your lips before leaning in. His lips on yours fills the void inside your heart in an instant.

You sigh against the kiss, his arm slithers around your waist pulling you closer to him. He pulls the covers over both of you, trapping you. You break away, slowly. Your eyes look into his, searching for a sign of regret or confusion.

“Don’t stop,” he whispers, chasing your lips to kiss you again.

Before you knew it, he flips you onto your back, towering over you under the covers. Your eyes widen.

“Jungwon?”

“You’re driving me crazy. And I don’t even know why,” he said, kissing your neck.

your breath hitched, your mind melting under his body.

“We shouldn’t do this, why are you being like this…?”

“Tell me to stop,” he replied, pausing to wait for your response.

He caresses your cheek, tenderly. Your eyes flickered in pain at his familiar gaze.

A glimpse of what you both used to be. Of him.

“Tell me,” he repeated, more insistently. As if it was taking all of him to restrain himself.

Was it selfish to want to do this? To just pretend for a moment, that he was back to who he was? That he recognized you for the you he met?

You shook your head, “Don’t stop.”

He immediately smashed his lips onto yours, leaving a trail of wet kisses all over your neck. His hands travelled around your body, as if memorizing it.

Ironically, anyway.

Your hands found his hair, griping onto it slightly as he attacked your neck. He kissed back up from your neck, your jawline, to your lips once again. His touch was sweet, desperate, and frustrated.

What was it about you? What is it that draws him undoubtedly to you?

For a moment, you both lay in silence, gazing into each other’s eyes.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers.

Jungwon shuts his eyes in pain, briefly. He drops his head against your neck.

He mumbles, “Have we done this before?”

Your eyes flicker, caught by surprise. You hesitated.

“I should go…” You attempted to get out of his grip, yet he held you down.

His nose brushed against your temple, his lips hovering dangerously close to your jaw.

He wasn’t even kissing you anymore, but it was worse.

Because this wasn’t just physical. This was torture.

The kind that burned slow. The kind that left you aching. The kind that made you crave something you weren’t sure you could have anymore.

“Tell me,” Jungwon whispered.

Your hands shot up to push him away, but—

He caught them.

His fingers tangled with yours, gripping, holding, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

You inhaled sharply, “Jungwon—”

“Tell me the truth,” he murmured, lips just barely grazing your cheek.

“I…”

His grip on your hands tightened slightly, “Say it.”

You closed your eyes, trying to wriggle yourself out from under him, but it was impossible.

Because Jungwon was everywhere.

His warmth. His scent. His breath against your skin.

And then, his lips—just barely brushing the corner of your mouth, too light to be a kiss, but enough to send your pulse into chaos.

Your chest rose and fell rapidly, “Jungwon, please…”

He hummed, lips still agonizingly close, “Please what?”

You knew exactly what he wanted to hear.

I love you.

And worst of all?

You wanted to say it. But you couldn’t. Not yet.

So instead, you did the only thing you could do.

You whipped your head from him—just enough to break the moment, just enough to breathe—and forced yourself to avoid his piercing eyes.

Jungwon searched your face, his own unreadable.

You needed to get away. Why was he doing this to you? When you’ve worked so hard to stay away and let him have his chance.

“You win,” you whispered, voice barely audible. A tear slipped from your eye.

His brow furrowed slightly,“What?”

You exhaled shakily, pressing a hand against his chest—feeling his heartbeat pound under your palm. You push him away, again.

“You win,” you repeated, softer this time, “I can’t fight this anymore.”

This time, Jungwon allowed you to push him off. He dropped next to you.

Then, ever so slowly—

His fingers released yours.

And just before you sprung from his bed and walked away, his voice—low and rough—sent a shiver through you.

“Then stop trying.”

After that night, you left early in the morning. You didn’t know how to face him, nor if you even wanted to. You told yourself to keep a distance. You needed to.

You weren’t sure why you went to the gym. Maybe habit, maybe restlessness. Maybe because the weight of the past few months was suffocating you, and fighting was the only way you knew how to breathe again.

But when you stepped inside—he was there.

Jungwon stood in the center of the ring, his hands wrapped in tape, his face set in quiet concentration. He was focused, but the second he saw you, he froze.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You turned on your heel, ready to leave.

Then—

“You avoiding me?” he asked, voice laced with something unreadable.

You stopped in your tracks, looking behind your shoulder, “No.”

Liar.

Jungwon’s eyes narrowed slightly, studying you the way he always had—like you were a puzzle he wanted to solve.

And then, he did something unexpected.

He lifted his hand, gesturing toward the ring, “Spar with me.”

You stiffened, “What?”

He smirked, “You said you fight. Show me.”

You should have walked away. You should have told him no.

But then, he tilted his head, eyes dark with a challenge—and just like that, you were his again.

Even if he didn’t know it. Even if he never would.

“You’re crazy,” you muttered, moving toward the door.

But in an instant, he was there. Right behind you.

“Am I?” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

You clenched your fists, “Jungwon—”

“I remember the way you laugh,” he cut you off. His tone was calm, too calm, but the weight of his words slammed into you like a force you weren’t prepared for.

“I remember how your eyes light up when you talk about something you love,” he continued, and this time, his fingers ghosted over your wrist—so soft, yet so deliberate, “I remember the way you fidget when you’re trying to hide something.”

You pulled away as if burned, “Stop it.”

Jungwon exhaled a sharp breath, tilting his head slightly, “Why?”

“Because you don’t remember,” you snapped, spinning to face him, “You’re just—just guessing.”

His gaze darkened, “Am I?”

He took a step closer. Then another.

Until there was barely any space between you.

And then, his hand lifted—fingers brushing along your cheek, down to your jaw, before his thumb dragged ever so lightly across your lips.

“You know what’s funny?” His voice was softer now, but impossibly firm, “Every time I look at you… it feels like I already know exactly how you’ll react. As if I’ve touched you like this before.”

Your entire body tensed.

Jungwon’s thumb traced a slow, burning path along your bottom lip, his eyes flickering with something devastatingly familiar.

Something that made your heart scream he knows.

“I remember a feeling,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly, gaze locked onto yours, “Like something I lost… but never really let go of.”

“It’s just a meaningless feeling—”

“We kissed,” he leaned closer, frustrated, “Or are you also going to say that was meaningless?”

A shiver ran through you.

You had to get out of here. Fast.

Your hands shot up to push him away, but before you could, his fingers curled around your wrist—gently, but unyielding.

His grip wasn’t forceful. But it was intentional.

Your breath came uneven, “Let go—”

“Tell me,” he whispered, “Tell me why you look at me like you’re afraid I’ll remember everything.”

Your pulse thundered in your ears. Because he was right.

Afraid that if he truly remembered everything, you would have to face the truth. That you had chosen to let him go. That you had decided to keep your love buried, thinking it would protect him.

That you would have ruined his second shot at being truly happy. All because of you. But now?

Now, he was standing before you, undoing everything.

His fingers tightened ever so slightly around your wrist, his body impossibly close.

“Tell me,” he repeated, voice hushed, raw, desperate.

“Jungwon…” Your voice wavered.

His eyes dropped to your lips.

For a split second, you thought he would kiss you.

For a split second, you wanted him to.

But then, just as quickly as the moment had come, Jungwon let go.

He stepped back, exhaling sharply as if grounding himself.

“I’ll remember everything soon,” he murmured, “And once I do I want to hear the truth from you.”

He turned away, as if giving you a chance to escape.

And you did.

But not before hearing the quiet, almost broken whisper he thought you wouldn’t catch.

“I already know I loved you once.”

As if things couldn’t get worse after that encounter, Seokjin betrayed you.

You should have known he would find you. Jungwon.

After bothering Seokjin endlessly about where to find you, he gave up your whereabouts.

‘Would you have preferred me to have given him your number instead?’ he told you, earning a frustrated sigh from you. He was right, that would’ve been worse.

You didn’t understand why Jungwon was chasing this idea with no stop. Provoking you, leading you, acting out.

You were in Seokjin’s office, scanning through old case files you were here to give him, when the air suddenly changed.

A shift. A weight. A presence that sent every nerve in your body into high alert.

You didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

“Running away won’t stop it, you know.”

His voice was deep, smooth—too calm for the chaos he was stirring inside you.

You swallowed hard, keeping your eyes on the files, “Didn’t realize I had to check in with you before going to meet your brother.”

A scoff, low, amused, “You don’t. But considering the way you bolted that night, I figured I should check if you still knew how to breathe.”

You sighed, unamused.

“But no, you’re here to meet my brother instead of the man you kissed…” he mumbled, an obvious sulk in his expression.

You turned to him, glaring.

Is he seriously being petty, right now?

Your fingers tensed around the paper in your hand,“Why do you want?”

Jungwon exhaled, slow and measured. And then—

He closed the distance, causing you to stumble against Seokjins work desk. You grip onto the desk.

You felt him before you saw him—his warmth at your front, his presence consuming. Your breath hitched as he leaned down, caging you with his arms beside the sides of your body.

“You.”

Your entire body went rigid.

A slow smirk curled at his lips, “See? I knew it. You still react the same way.”

Your fingers twitched, your jaw clenching, “Jungwon—”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

He exhaled sharply.

“That we—” He stopped, correcting himself, “That I—” Another pause.

Then, finally, a quiet, almost fragile, “That I loved you.”

Your breath came uneven, “You don’t know that.”

Jungwon let out a humorless laugh, “No? Then why does my heart ache every time I look at you?”

Silence.

He leaner closer, your faces only mere inches apart. His voice dropped lower.

“Why do I feel you in my bones?”

Your chest heaved, “can you stop doing th—”

“Why does my entire body know what it’s like to touch you, even though I can’t remember when I last did?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, “Please—”

Then, softly, almost broken—

“Why do you look at me like you remember too?”

Your breath hitched.

Jungwon reached out, fingers brushing along your wrist—light, testing, almost hesitant.

“Tell me the truth,” he murmured.

Your eyes burned. You couldn’t.

Because the truth was dangerous. The truth meant giving in. The truth meant letting yourself hope again.

And you weren’t sure if you could survive losing him twice.

So, you did the only thing you knew how to do.

You pulled away.

You stepped away, breaking the contact, breaking him.

Jungwon’s expression flickered—just for a second. Just long enough for you to see the hurt.

Anger surged through him.

His jaw clenched, his posture stiffening as he straightened, “I see.”

His voice was cool now, distant.

He took a slow step back. Then another.

And just when you thought he would walk away, he stopped. His gaze locked onto yours one last time, dark and unreadable.

Then—

“I will remember, you know.”

The promise sent a shiver down your spine. It didn’t sound like a sweet promise, but a threat.

Jungwon tilted his head slightly, a ghost of something unreadable in his gaze, “And when I do… I wonder what will hurt more—the memories, or the fact that you were the one who hid them from me.”

And then he left.

Leaving you standing there—shaken, breathless, and breaking all over again.

But things didn’t stop there. The rest of the month was a disaster.

Because everywhere you went, Jungwon was there.

Too close. Too intense. Too much.

It wasn’t just the stolen glances or the casual touches that sent fire racing through your veins. It was the way he watched you—like he remembered. Like his body knew even if his mind was still piecing the puzzle together.

By the time the sun began to set, you were seconds away from losing your grip entirely.

And then—

“Drinks. After work.”

You blinked, glancing up from your desk to see Jungwon standing there, hands in his pockets, looking far too casual for what he was suggesting.

You narrowed your eyes, “I don’t drink with people who annoy me.”

He smirked, “Good thing you like me, then.”

You rolled your eyes, sighing, “Fine. One drink.”

Jungwon’s smirk deepened, “One drink,” he repeated. “Sure.”

You didn’t trust him for a second.

And later that night, when you found yourself pressed against the wall of his apartment, breathless and aching for more, you realized—

You never should have trusted yourself either.

The kiss was sloppy and passionate, your body so hot you feel you could burn up. You blame the alcohol, the way you can’t rationally think. Or maybe you just choose not to.

Jungwon’s hands rest on your hips, pressing you up against him. He picked you up, heading towards his bedroom. Once onto the bed, he hovered over you, capturing your lips once again.

He uses one hand to slowly unbutton your pants, lips still on yours, pulling them down. He tosses them aside, breaking the kiss to take off his own shirt.

You lay there, breathless and without any pants. He pulls up your shirt, kissing the bare skin that laid under it. He cups your breasts, fondling with them. He unclasps your bra, wrapping his lips onto your sensitive buds. Your back arched into him, lacing your fingers into his hair.

His wet tongue circled around your nipples, sucking softly. A few soft moans escaped your tipsy lips.

He kissed all the way down to your lower belly. He stopped, looking up at you.

“Can i?” he asked.

You nodded, feeling your core pooling in your panties. You didn’t want to think anymore, you just wanted him. To feel all of him. Just like before.

He took off his pants before pulling down your panties, tossing it aside with the rest of your clothes.

Your eyes flickered down to his cock, hard and flushed against his abdomen.

“Spread those gorgeous legs for me,” he instructed.

He hovers right over you, eyeing you like prey. He gazes into your eyes, searching for any signs of regret. You wrap your arms around his neck. He aligns himself between your wet folds, slowly rubbing against your core but not enough to go in. He leaves soft pepper kisses around your cheek, a response to your whimper in impatience.

He plants a kiss onto your lips before pushing himself inside. You both sigh against the kiss in response. He slowly pulls out and pushes back in, helping you adjust to him.

Your moans become more insistent, giving him the signal to move. His pace quickens, causing a line of soft curses under your breath. You tighten your arms around his neck, feeling as his hips snap against yours.

Lewd sounds of skin and groans fill the bedroom. Your breath is rigid, broken moans escaping your lips. Your eyes fell to a half-lid, the pleasure becoming overwhelming.

You wrapped your arms around his torso, deepening the missionary position.

You yelped, feeling the new position hit your spot. He bit your neck, leaving love bites and other marks onto your skin.

“Fuck, don’t stop,” you whined, tears filling your eyes at the knot in your stomach.

“You feel so good, baby,” he mumbles against your skin.

He grunts, feeling his cock twitch inside you in desperation to cum. Your velvet walls clenched around him, feeling your own release approach.

He sat up, dragging your legs closer to him, pounding into you against the creaking mattress.

You moaned, your mouth falling agape at his relentless pace.

“You’re gonna cum for me? yeah?” he cooed, his cock deep within you.

“mhm, please,” you whined, gripping onto the sheets.

Hot tears fell from your eyes, your head melting from the pleasure and the alcohol.

This was your ecstasy. You swore you could see the stars.

With one last moan, your orgasm crashes hard onto you. Jungwon grunts, thrusting his hips against your core, riding out his orgasm.

“Fuck,” thrust.

“wanna make you,” thrust, “cum like this everyday.”

Thrust.

By the time you had realized what happened, on sober thoughts, it was already the next morning. Your memories of the previous night came crashing down. You looked beside you, to find a peacefully sleeping Jungwon. You both laid under the covers, still naked from last night. You cursed at yourself, feeling the red crimson tint of embarrassment creep onto your cheeks. You slowly made it out of his warm grip, rushing to put on your clothes. You left his house immediately, not before leaving a sticky note on his bed stand.

‘We’re never drinking again. Forget it ever happened. I left a hang-over remedy in your fridge. Take it when you wake up. - Y/n.’

The next day at work, Jungwon didn’t let up.

“Good morning, pretty,” His voice was teasing as he dropped a cup of coffee onto your desk.

You frowned at the drink, “I didn’t ask for this. Why are you here?”

He shrugged, propping a hip against your desk, “I know.”

You glanced at him suspiciously before taking a sip—only to freeze.

It was your exact order.

Your complicated, annoyingly specific order. The one he ordered for you many times before in the past.

You narrowed your eyes, “How do you know how I take my coffee?”

Jungwon smirked, arms crossing over his broad chest, “I pay attention.”

You hated how much those words affected you.

And you hated even more that your heart stuttered when he reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Careful, detective,” he murmured, eyes flickering to your lips for just a second too long. “You’re starting to look at me like you don’t actually hate me.”

You shoved the coffee back into his hands, “I take it back. I do hate you.”

Jungwon only grinned, like he knew. Like he could see the cracks forming in your walls.

And worse?

Like he planned to break them down completely.

Days turned into weeks, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t stop the shift happening between you.

Jungwon was shameless in his pursuit.

It became clear when he found you late one night, still working at your desk, exhaustion weighing on your shoulders.

Without a word, he dropped a takeout container in front of you and sat down across from you, his own meal in hand.

You raised an eyebrow, “What’s this? Why do you always show up at my workplace unannounced?”

“Dinner,” he said simply, already digging into his food.

You stared at the container, “…You got me food?”

Jungwon didn’t even glance up, “You don’t take care of yourself, so someone has to.”

Your heart squeezed in your chest.

You swallowed hard, ignoring the way warmth crept up your spine, “I could’ve bought my own food.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t,” he said, finally meeting your gaze, “So eat, or I’ll feed you myself.”

You huffed, grabbing your chopsticks, “You’re annoying.”

Jungwon grinned, “And yet, here we are.”

You took a bite of your food, trying to ignore the fact that your chest felt way too full.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

You weren’t supposed to let him in.

But when you glanced up and caught him watching you—soft, teasing, something else—you realized...

Maybe you already had.

“Stay still.”

You huffed, shifting in your seat, “You’re not a nurse, Jungwon.”

“And yet, I’m the one patching you up,” His voice was laced with amusement as he carefully dabbed a cotton ball against the cut on your cheek.

You sucked in a sharp breath, your fingers gripping the edge of the kitchen counter, “That stings.”

He tilted his head, eyes twinkling, “Maybe if you weren’t so stubborn, you wouldn’t keep getting hurt.”

You scowled, “Maybe if you weren’t so annoying, I wouldn’t be stuck here with you.”

Jungwon smirked, setting the first-aid supplies aside, “Right. Because you hate spending time with me.”

You opened your mouth—only to shut it when he leaned in, placing a soft kiss onto your lips.

His voice dropped, soft and teasing, “All done.”

You hated how fast your heart was racing.

And you hated that you didn’t pull away.

It was late—too late—when you stumbled into your apartment, exhaustion dragging at your limbs. You had spent the entire day chasing leads, and the last thing you expected was to find Jungwon already there, lounging on your couch like he belonged there.

You blinked, “How did you get in?”

He lifted his phone, “You texted me earlier, remember? Said you forgot to eat.”

You frowned, “That didn’t answer my question.”

Jungwon grinned, “I don’t know. I just…knew?”

your eyes flickered. Could it be that he…is starting to regain his memories?

Before you could protest, he held up a plate with pancakes, “Figured you’d need this.”

You sighed, dropping onto the couch beside him. “I really could’ve taken care of myself.”

Jungwon hummed, “Sure.”

Jungwon sprawled beside you, looking entirely too comfortable.

You stabbed at your food with unnecessary aggression, “If you wanted pancakes, you could’ve just gone to a diner.”

Jungwon hummed, taking a bite of his own, “Yeah, but then I wouldn’t have been able to see you in those.”

You froze mid-chew before glancing down at yourself.

Shit.

You were still in your sleep shorts and an oversized sweater—hardly the kind of thing you wanted to be wearing around him, especially when you were trying to keep your distance.

You scowled, “Pervert.”

Jungwon grinned, unbothered, “Nothing I haven’t already seen.”

You threw a pillow at him.

He caught it effortlessly, laughing, “Admit it, you like having me here.”

You turned your focus back to your pancakes, “You’re delusional.”

He wrapped his hands around your waist, tugging you closer.

You yelp in surprise, placing your plate onto the coffee table. He pulled you into his lap by your waist, straddling him. Your hands gripped onto his shoulders, blinking at him in confusion.

“What are you doing?”

“Take these off,” he demanded, tugging at your shorts.

Before you could protest, he smashes his lips against yours, his hands gripping onto your waist. He pressed you down against his bulge, gaining a soft gasp in pleasure from you. He rocked your hips against his aching boner, small grunts escaping his lips. He slumped against the couch, spreading his legs in a lazy manner. You take your shorts off, forgetting what you were going to protest about in the first place.

It didn’t matter, not anymore.

Your soaked panties made his cock grow harder, already anticipating to be inside you.

He lifted his hips, sliding off all that restrained his angry cock. His cock sprung onto his abdomen, a soft slapping sound from the release. Pre-cum leaked from his angry tip, his cock hard.

You wrapped your hands around his cock, causing him to curse under his breath, cocking his head back onto the couch.

You gave it a few strokes before aligning it to your dripping cunt. He gripped onto your waist as you slowly lowered yourself onto him.

A groan escaped his mouth, a soft whimper from yours. You slowly rock your hips on his cock, with broken breaths. You cupped Jungwon’s face, gazing into his eyes. He held a sexy, lewd expression.

He leans in to kiss you, your hips still rocking on his twitching cock. You moan against his lips, his strong hands gripping onto your ass.

He helps you rock your hips faster on his dick from his grip onto your ass. He leaves a harsh smack onto your ass, causing you to quicken your pace.

“you’re sucking me right in, baby,” he grunted.

“mhm, feel so full,” you whined, panting.

He notices your fatigue, his hands sliding up to your waist. He stops you, lifting you up slightly to thrust his cock into you.

You yelp, gripping onto him, your fingernails digging into his skin.

He pounds mercilessly into your dripping cunt, a strong grip onto your waist. You’re so loud, you’re sure you’ll get complaints the next day.

“Just like that, baby,” he groaned, “take my cock.”

It became a routine after that.

Jungwon found little ways to worm himself into your life—into you—and you let him.

You turned to put your glass in the sink, desperate for a distraction, “You should go home."

Jungwon hummed, the sound low, thoughtful, "Do you want me to?"

Your grip tightened around the edge of the counter.

You didn’t answer.

Because you didn’t want him to leave.

But you also weren’t ready to admit that.

Jungwon knew. He always knew.

He stepped forward, slow and deliberate, his presence consuming. You could feel the warmth radiating off of him before he even touched you.

And then—His hands found your waist.

Soft. Firm. Unshakable. Your breath stilled.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart hammered against your ribs.

You should have told him to stop. You should have.

But then he leaned in, his lips brushing just barely against your temple, lingering—waiting.

And suddenly, you couldn’t.

You didn’t remember who moved first.

All you knew was that one second, you were standing there, barely breathing, and the next, you were crashing into him.

His hands tightened around your waist, pulling you flush against him, and your fingers fisted in his shirt, anchoring yourself in the warmth of his body.

Your lips met, tentative at first—like testing uncharted waters.

But then, Jungwon made a sound. A quiet, desperate groan that sent a shiver down your spine.

And just like that, restraint was gone.

His hands slid up, fingers threading through your hair as he tilted your head back, deepening the kiss. His mouth was hot, insistent, like he’d been waiting for this, craving this as much as you had.

You gasped when he pressed you against the counter, his body molding perfectly against yours. Every inch of you burned where he touched, his hands sliding down your sides, tracing every curve, every dip, like he was memorizing you.

You felt powerless against him.

And yet, somehow, you’d never felt stronger.

Your fingers found his jaw, nails lightly scraping against his skin as you pulled him even closer. He groaned into your mouth, his grip tightening on your hips, his breathing ragged as he broke the kiss just long enough to murmur—

"Tell me you don’t want this."

You couldn’t.

Instead, you tangled your fingers in his hair and dragged him back down to you.

His laughter was husky against your lips, dark and full of something dangerous.

And as he lifted you effortlessly onto the counter, settling between your legs with a heat that threatened to consume you, you realized—

You had never stood a chance.

Moments later, you found yourself tugging at Jungwon’s hair as he devoured your cunt. Still on the kitchen counter, he sucked and swirled his tongue on your core. Moans filled the house, your legs quivering in pleasure.

He used his arms to push your legs from closing in, a trail of bite marks and dark hickeys on the inside of your thighs from earlier.

“Fuck,” you whined, “m’cumming.”

he went torturously slow, your eyes rolling back into your head as you gripped onto the counter with force. One hand still gripped tightly onto his hair. You pushed him deeper, earning a soft groan in satisfaction from him. Your juices dripped from his chin.

It was moments like those, that you realized Jungwon had you, body and soul, belonging to him.

And it was far too late to change it.

It had been building for weeks.

The tension. The near-misses. The way Jungwon would look at you, eyes narrowed like he was trying to remember something—something just out of reach.

And you had felt it. It was only a matter of time before the truth caught up to you.

And now—now you were here.

The night air was thick with the scent of rain. The city streets were slick beneath the glow of streetlights, casting ghostly reflections against the pavement.

Jungwon walked beside you, hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable.

You had been avoiding this conversation all night.

But he wasn’t letting you escape this time.

"You knew, didn’t you?" His voice was quiet.

“Knew what?"

Jungwon came to a sudden stop, forcing you to halt as well. The street was empty, the world around you silent except for the distant hum of traffic.

He turned to face you, eyes burning with something dangerous.

"That we knew each other before."

Your stomach dropped.

Your lips parted, but no sound came out.

Jungwon exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair, "I’ve been having these… flashes. Dreams. Whatever the hell they are." His jaw clenched.

"At first, I thought I was going crazy. But then I realized—they all have one thing in common."

His gaze locked onto yours, sharp and unrelenting.

"You."

"You’re imagining things," you forced out.

Jungwon laughed. A bitter, humorless sound.

"Am I?" He took a step forward, invading your space. "Then why do I feel like I know you? Why do I remember the way you smile, the way you touch me, when I shouldn’t?" His voice dropped, rough with frustration.

"Why does every memory feel like it’s been ripped out of my head, except for you?"

You had been so careful.

You had spent months trying to avoid this, making sure he never knew the truth. But he was too smart.

And now, everything was unraveling.

You forced yourself to hold his gaze, “Jungwon, it’s not—"

"Don’t lie to me."

His voice was low, almost pleading.

Even when he was angry, even when he was broken, there was always something soft beneath it all.

Something that made your heart ache.

And that was exactly why you had to end this.

You took a step back.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about."

His entire body tensed.

You could see it—the moment the hurt set in, the second the doubt began creeping into his expression.

But then—He reached for you.

His fingers brushed against yours, just for a fleeting second.

And suddenly—A memory flickered through his mind.

The feeling of your hands tangled in his hair, your laughter against his skin, your voice whispering his name like it was the only thing that mattered in the world.

His breath caught.

He stumbled back, hand shooting up to his temple, a sharp pain blooming behind his eyes.

"Jungwon?" Panic seized you as he doubled over slightly, eyes squeezing shut.

Then, all at once—His head snapped up.

His pupils were blown wide, his chest rising and falling in harsh, uneven breaths.

And when he spoke—His voice was haunted.

"I remember."

His eyes—dark, unreadable—bore into you with something raw. Something you couldn’t name.

You hated the way he looked at you like you were the one who had done something wrong. Like you were the one keeping secrets, when all you had done was try to protect him.

But now—now it didn’t matter. Because it was over.

Everything you had been running from, everything you had tried to bury—it had all come crashing down around you.

"You lied to me,” His voice was low. Dangerous.

You sucked in a sharp breath, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. "Jungwon—"

"You lied to me," he repeated, his tone more forceful this time, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

And for the first time, you saw it. The anger.

The betrayal.

But underneath it all—The hurt.

You swallowed past the lump in your throat, the weight of your own decisions suffocating you, "I did what I had to do. I’m not the woman you think you know. So, please, forget it.”

Jungwon let out a sharp, humorless laugh, running a hand through his rain-soaked hair. "What you had to do? Not the woman I know? How can you say this?" His voice rose, thick with frustration.

"You let me think I didn’t know you. That we were strangers. Do you realize what you have asked me? any idea what that did to me?"

Your heart twisted violently in your chest.

Of course, you did. You had watched it happen.

Watched as he tried to piece his life back together, watched as he struggled with missing pieces he didn’t even realize were missing.

And worst of all—You had watched as he tried to move on. But fate wouldn’t let you stay away.

"You were better off not knowing,” you whispered.

"Better off?" His voice was quiet now, but there was fire in it, “So, what? You decided for me? You chose to erase yourself from my life?"

Tears burned behind your eyes, but you refused to let them fall.

"I thought I was doing the right thing," you murmured.

Jungwon’s eyebrows furrowed.

“I will fall in love with you, over and over again, with or without memories, no matter how long it’s been,” his voice became louder, “So don’t tell me you’re not the same person!”

Because the version of you he had fallen for—the woman who had fought beside him, laughed with him, loved him—had let him go.

The silence stretched between you, thick with words left unsaid.

Then, suddenly—A memory.

It struck him like lightning, sharp and searing.

Your voice—soft and teasing—whispering his name in the dead of night.

The warmth of your bare skin pressed against his, your laughter echoing in his ears.

The way you had looked at him, once upon a time, like he was your whole world.

And then—Gunshots. Pain. Blood. The hospital.

And you.

Sitting beside him, fingers trembling as you brushed a hand through his hair.

< ‘I love you. Did you hear? I said I love you! Please. Wake up. I forgive you, okay? You can’t leave me. You said you’d never leave…’>

The words hit him, shattering every lie, every missing piece in his head.

He stumbled back a step, his face pale, his hands shaking.

"I—" He choked on the words, his vision swimming. "I remember."

Your eyes widened, panic flashing across your face.

But it was too late.

Because now—He knew everything.

His voice was barely a murmur, "I remember the way you touched me... the way I kissed you. The way you..." His breath hitched, and his voice cracked under the weight of the unspoken.

"You were everything to me," Jungwon continued, his voice thick with emotion, "But I couldn’t remember. I couldn’t even feel you. And that killed me. I’m so sorry.”

His words cut through you like a blade, sharp and unrelenting. You wanted to reach out, to tell him that you hadn’t meant to take that from him, that you had only been trying to protect him, that he had no reason to apologize.

His hand lifted slowly, hesitating for just a second before gently cupping your cheek. The touch was tentative, but it sent a jolt through your body, igniting everything you had buried deep within yourself.

And then he said it—just barely above a whisper, but with such sincerity that it shattered whatever fragile resolve you had left.

"I remember loving you, Y/n."

A sob caught in your throat, but you bit it back, shaking your head as your heart raced.

"You can’t," you gasped, your voice trembling with the weight of it all, “You can’t remember me. Not like this. Not after everything I—"

But before you could finish, his lips pressed against yours, soft but desperate. A quiet reassurance in the midst of the chaos.

"I don’t care," he murmured, “I just need you by my side. I can’t be without you, Not again."

The days after that were filled with laughter, with quiet moments and passionate kisses. Jungwon was more than just the man you loved. He had become the person you needed—your partner, your equal.

“I love you, Jungwon,” you cried through a bittersweet laugh.

And, slowly, you realized something that you hadn’t allowed yourself to believe before.

“I love you, too. Always,” he smiled, wiping your tears away with his thumb.

You didn’t have to be perfect.

You didn’t have to have it all figured out.

You just had to be willing to love, to trust, and to walk forward together.

And as you stood beside Jungwon, looking out over the city that had once felt so cold and empty, you realized that this was only the beginning.

Because together, you could face anything.

No more running. No more hiding.

Just love and the complexities of it,

And that was enough.

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sxcretricciardo · 2 months ago

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Improbable guests - Marc Marquez

The studio was smaller than you’d expected—cozy, dimly lit, with colorful LED lights bordering the ceiling. The walls were plastered with posters of previous podcast guests: athletes, actors, musicians, even astronauts. You were no stranger to interviews, but this was different. The podcast, Duality, was known for pairing two extremely famous guests from completely opposite careers, with the goal of exploring unexpected common ground.

You were a globally recognized singer, someone who’d gone from viral covers on social media to selling out arenas. He—Marc Márquez—was a legend in MotoGP, known for his daring maneuvers on the track and his boyish charm. You’d never met him, though you’d heard of his impressive career and seen flashes of him in interviews.

What could a singer and a MotoGP champion possibly have in common?

You were about to find out.

The host, Ana Reyes, greeted you both in the green room, her signature bold lipstick and oversized glasses in place. “This is going to be a fun one,” she said with a grin. “You two are so different on paper, but I have a feeling you’ll surprise us.”

Marc turned to you with a polite smile and extended his hand. “Nice to meet you. I’ve heard your music before—‘Midnight Heart’ is one of my favorites. My sister made me listen to it so many times that now I actually like it.”

You laughed as you shook his hand. “That’s a relief. I’ll have to thank your sister.”

Once inside the studio, you both sat on opposite ends of a wide couch, microphones adjusted, headphones on. Ana introduced the show with her usual energy.

“Today, we’re pairing two absolute powerhouses: one rules the charts, the other dominates the track. Please welcome international music sensation Y/N and eight-time world champion Marc Márquez!”

You smiled at the camera while Marc offered a playful salute.

Ana leaned forward. “Alright, let’s kick things off. First question—what’s something about your job that people completely misunderstand?”

You glanced at Marc, giving him the floor.

He chuckled. “People think MotoGP is just riding fast bikes. But it’s more than that. There’s strategy, mental endurance, reading the bike, reading the other riders… It’s not just speed. It’s survival.”

You nodded. “I get that. For me, it’s the assumption that being a singer is just fun and glamorous. But there’s so much vulnerability. Writing lyrics, performing night after night, living in hotel rooms… You kind of lose touch with reality sometimes.”

Marc tilted his head. “Sounds a bit like race season. Every weekend, a new place, new pressures. You can’t lose focus.”

You smiled. “I guess we’re both adrenaline junkies in different ways.”

Ana grinned. “I love where this is going.”

⸻

Later in the episode…

The conversation flowed more naturally as time passed. You found yourself leaning in more, laughing at Marc’s stories of near-crashes and childhood motocross rivalries with his brother. He laughed at your tale of forgetting your lyrics mid-performance in front of 20,000 fans.

Ana smirked as she shuffled her cue cards. “Okay, here’s a fun one. Let’s say you two switch lives for a week. Marc, you’re now a pop star. Y/N, you’re a MotoGP rider. What’s the first thing you do?”

Marc glanced at you. “If I had your voice, I’d definitely go into a recording studio and just… sing sad songs until I cried. Is that what you do?”

You burst out laughing. “Close. I write the sad songs, cry while writing them, and then cry again during the performance.”

He nodded seriously. “That’s emotional cardio.”

You grinned. “If I were you, I’d definitely take the bike for a spin—but I’d probably crash before I got out of the pit lane.”

“You wouldn’t even make it out of the garage,” he teased.

Ana interjected with a laugh. “I’m sensing some real chemistry here. Have you two ever met before?”

You both shook your heads.

“Never,” Marc said, glancing sideways at you with a smirk. “But maybe we should’ve.”

⸻

After the official recording ends…

The cameras stopped rolling, but the energy between you remained. You took off your headphones and stretched, noticing Marc watching you.

“You know,” he said, “I expected this to be a bit awkward. I thought we’d run out of things to say after ten minutes.”

“Same,” you replied honestly. “But it was… fun.”

He picked up his water bottle, swirled it absentmindedly. “You’re actually really interesting. You don’t give off the ‘pop diva’ vibe I expected.”

You raised a brow. “Pop diva? Should I be offended?”

He laughed. “I mean it in the nicest way. I expected you to be a bit… I don’t know. Untouchable. But you’re easy to talk to.”

Your cheeks warmed a little. “Thanks. I thought you’d be more… macho. Intense. You’re surprisingly sweet.”

There was a pause. A beat.

“Would you want to get coffee sometime?” he asked, eyes not leaving yours.

You smiled. “I thought you’d never ask.”

⸻

A week later, the podcast airs.

Clips go viral. One in particular—where you and Marc laugh uncontrollably after Ana suggests you record a song together called Fast Lane Love—hits over a million views in a day. Fans flood your social media with comments like:

Why do I ship this??

These two had CRAZY chemistry.

Marc and Y/N collab WHEN?!

You post a photo the day after the podcast release—just a blurry coffee cup, a bike helmet, and two sets of sunglasses on a café table.

The caption?

“Opposites… maybe not so opposite after all.”

#marc marquez x reader #marc marquez imagine #marc marquez #motogp x reader #motogp imagine #motogp

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marvelskies1969 · 2 months ago

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Infinity

Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader / Loki x Fem!Reader

Premise: Y/N Rogers was sent away as a child, her powers deemed dangerous. After years of brief summers with Steve and Bucky, she returns for good when their mother dies—just as war begins.

As her abilities awaken, she draws the attention of Loki, the trickster god, and faces growing fear from those around her. Caught between destiny, war, and forbidden ties, Y/N must decide who she truly is—and who she’s willing to fight for.

Warnings/content: slight angst, brief mention of death/dying, jealousy, sexual assault, fluff, swearing, unstable parental relationships, follows the plot of the MCU timeline, with small changes.

[Masterlist]

[Part 2]

(Chapter 31)

The God and The Tesseract

The inside of the facility was a flurry of movement—agents stationed at screens, murmured discussions of intel, and the constant hum of technology monitoring global threats. Y/N and Steve followed Fury as he led them toward the central command, where massive screens displayed live footage from various locations.

“Got eyes on our guy,” one of the agents reported, pulling up a zoomed-in feed.

The screen flickered to reveal a scene in Germany. The streets were in chaos—civilians cowered as a figure clad in black and gold strode through them with eerie confidence. Loki.

Y/N tilted her head, observing him with a critical eye. “So that’s the guy?”

“Loki,” Natasha confirmed, arms crossed. “Asgardian. Calls himself a god.”

Y/N frowned as she watched the footage. The way he carried himself, the effortless smirk, the commanding presence… There was no denying that he was a menace, cruel and destructive. But—damn it—he was also unfairly attractive.

Steve, standing beside her, studied the scene with narrowed eyes. “He’s making people kneel,” he muttered, disgusted. “He enjoys it.”

Y/N huffed. “Yeah, because that’s not concerning at all.”

Fury exhaled sharply and turned to Steve. “Right, Cap. You’re up.”

Y/N clapped her hands together. “Great, I’ll just grab my coat—”

She barely took a step before Fury held out a hand, stopping her. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, missy. I let you come as a courtesy. You’re Steve’s sister, and I get that, in the grand scheme of things, you don’t have many people left. But let’s get one thing straight—I don’t know anything about you. So what makes you think you can take on a god and the Tesseract?”

Y/N turned to Steve, silently asking for permission.

He smirked, crossing his arms. “Go ahead.”

She exhaled, then flexed her fingers. The room darkened slightly as the lights overhead flickered. A faint hum of energy pulsed through the space as a blue glow sparked from her fingertips. The shift was subtle at first—bulbs in the room shifting from their usual yellow hue to an unnatural, ghostly blue. Then, every flame, every light source, followed suit. The room bathed in a cold, ethereal glow.

Natasha raised an eyebrow, but Y/N wasn’t done.

With a subtle shift of her stance, she lunged at Natasha. The spy moved on instinct, but Y/N anticipated it. She didn’t need to see the future—her energy allowed her to read movement, track the shifts in someone’s muscles, the way their body prepared to strike.

Natasha threw a punch, and Y/N dodged smoothly, twisting around her and locking an arm around Natasha’s throat in a tight, controlled headlock.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then Natasha smirked. “Not bad.”

Y/N let her go, stepping back and raising an eyebrow at Fury. “I’ve already dealt with one of them. How hard can the other one be?”

She withdrew her energy, the blue light fading instantly.

Fury assessed her, face unreadable, before giving a slow, reluctant nod of acceptance.

Natasha adjusted her stance, shaking her head with a small chuckle.

Steve, arms still crossed, looked smugly proud.

Banner, who had been watching quietly, chuckled under his breath. “Yeah… I like her.”

And just like that, everyone in the room knew exactly where her powers had come from.

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notwiselybuttoowell · 18 days ago

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The declines witnessed by Janzen – and described by others around the world – are part of what some ecologists call a “new era” of ecological collapse, where rapid extinctions occur in regions that have little direct contact with people.

Reports of falling insect numbers around the world are not new. International reviews have estimated annual losses globally of between 1% and 2.5% of total biomass every year.

But what Janzen and Hallwachs are witnessing is a part of a newer phenomenon: the catastrophic collapse of insect populations in supposedly protected regions of forest. “In the parts of Costa Rica that are heavily hit by pesticides, the insects are completely wiped out,” Hallwachs says.

Widespread use of pesticides and fertilisers, light and chemical pollution, loss of habitat and the growth of industrial agriculture have all carved into their numbers. Often, these were deaths of proximity: insects are sensitive creatures, and any nearby source of pollution can send their populations crumbling.

“But what we see here in the preserved areas – that as far as we can tell, are free of even these destructive insecticides and pesticides – even here, the insect numbers are going down horrifyingly dramatically,” she says.

Long-term data for insect populations – particularly less charismatic species – is still patchy, but Janzen and Hallwachs join a number of scientists that have recorded huge die-offs of insects in nature reserves around the world.

They include in Germany, where flying insects across 63 insect reserves dropped 75% in less than 30 years; the US, where beetle numbers dropped 83% in 45 years; and Puerto Rico, where insect biomass dropped up to 60-fold since the 1970s. These declines are occurring in ecosystems that are otherwise protected from direct human influence.

When David Wagner stepped out into the US’s southern wilderness this spring, he found landscapes emptied of life. The entomologist has devoted much of his career to documenting the vast diversity of US insect life, particularly rare caterpillars. He traverses the country to find specimens, often on long road trips searching for caterpillars by day and moths by night.

Now, he finds himself coming home empty-handed. “I just got back from Texas, and it was the most unsuccessful trip I’ve ever taken,” he says. “There just wasn’t any insect life to speak of.”

It was not only the insects missing, he says, it was everything. “Everything was crispy, fried; the lizard numbers were down to the lowest numbers I can ever remember. And then the things that eat lizards were not present – I didn’t see a single snake the entire time.”

Wagner recalls when a series of international reviews began hitting headlines in 2019, saying global insect biomass was declining at a rate of 1% a year (although some estimates put it as high as 2.5%).

“We [entomologists] were thinking conservatively,” he says, looking at the data that has emerged in the five years since then.

“I now think that that’s too low. Now I would say that 2% is happening in some areas, and we’re seeing some places threatened by climate change or urbanisation or agriculture get as high as 5% decline per year.”

A few percentage points a year may not have the ring of disaster. “But if you run that forward just four decades,” Wagner says, “we’re talking about nearly half the tree of life disappearing in one human lifetime. That is absolutely catastrophic.”

And those who doubt there is sufficient species data to prove the “insectageddon” can now track it by proxy, Wagner says: via the sharp declines in birds, lizards and other creatures that depend on them for food.

Scientists in the US, Brazil, Ecuador and Panama have now reported the catastrophic declines of birds in “untouched” regions – including reserves inside millions of hectares of pristine forest. In each case, the worst losses were among insectivorous birds.

At one research centre – falling within a 22,000-hectare (85 sq mile) stretch of intact forest in Panama – scientists comparing current bird numbers with the 1970s found 70% of species had declined, and 88% of these had lost more than half of their population.

In 2019, researchers found that almost a third of US birds – about 3 billion – had disappeared from the skies since the 1970s. The losses, however, were not evenly distributed: those birds that ate insects as their main food had declined by 2.9 billion. Those that didn’t depend on insects had actually gained, increasing by 26 million.

More recent research from the US found a decline in three-quarters of nearly 500 bird species studied – with the steepest downward trend in stronghold areas, where they once thrived.

In Puerto Rico’s Luquillo rainforest, scientists in 2018 mapped how the loss of insects set other dominoes falling: as bugs declined, so too did the populations of lizards, frogs and birds. Their disappearance, they wrote, had triggered “a bottom-up trophic cascade and consequent collapse of the forest food web”.

Behind the steepening declines, a clear culprit is beginning to emerge: global heating. A tropical forest ecosystem is “a finely tuned Swiss watch”, Hallwachs says – perfectly engineered to sustain a vastly biodiverse system of creatures.

Each element is delicately tuned and interlocks with the rest: the heat, the humidity, the rainfall, the unfolding of leaves, the length of the seasons, the start and stop of the life cycles of insects and animals.

But now, the system has one gear spinning wildly out of time: the climate.

“When I arrived here in 1963 the dry season was four months. Today, it is six months,” Janzen says. Insects that typically spend four months underground, waiting for the rains, are now forced to try to survive another two months of hot, dry weather. Many are not succeeding.

Alongside the changing seasons are other shifts, such as in rainfall or humidity. “It’s just a general disruption of all the little cues and synchronies that would be out there,” Janzen says. Across the entire clock of the forest, plants and creatures are falling out of sync. In the background, the temperature is rising.

#insects #entomology #biodiversity #birds #nature #ecosystems #biodiversity loss #climate change #costa rica #excerpts

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dailyplanetmetropolis · 4 months ago

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The Ongoing Restoration of the Amazon

March 2nd, 2025

Written By: Piera Landen

Two weeks ago, in a horrible turn of events, the entire Amazon Rainforest nearly burned to ash. At 1:28 PM CST on February 11th, the Justice League received a request for assistance from the governments of nearly every country in South America and multiple environmental NGOs. The entire perimeter of the Amazon Rainforest, the largest rainforest in the world and one of the most biodiverse places on Earth, was ablaze. Even worse, the fire was rapidly spreading inwards.

A satellite image of the fire at the time the Justice League deployed, 2025. (Image: Greenpeace, via the MODIS sensor on the Terra and Aqua satellites)

The Justice League immediately deployed a team to investigate and subdue the flames. Among the members of this squad, according to eyewitness reports, were Superman, Wonder Woman, and Flash. But despite their best efforts, the league quickly realized the fire was of magical origin. They scrambled their magic users, including the now-missing Zatanna Zatara (see our article on that here), to buy time.

After nearly five hours of the Justice League battling the continuously spreading blaze, Swamp Thing stepped in and put out the flames. Mr. Terrific, in his public statement three hours after the end of the fire, explained that Swamp Thing had been contacted early on but was unable to reach the forest due to being waylaid by villains. Aquaman intervened and managed to free Swamp Thing just in time to prevent the total destruction of the Amazon.

In addition to putting out the fire, Swamp Thing also somehow revived the plants that burned down. Dr. Daniel Kimura, one of the world’s foremost biological experts on the Amazon Rainforest, explained that “without Swamp Thing’s revival of the forest, it’s very likely we would be facing a global catastrophe. The Amazon Rainforest is vital in our planet’s ecosystem. It’s one of the largest carbon sinks on the planet, releases a massive amount of moisture into the atmosphere that affects global rain patterns. Swamp Thing just saved us all.”

Swamp Thing restoring the Amazon Rainforest and reviving the burned trees, 2025. (Image: Miguel Leite at Folha de São Paulo, via helicopter)

Swamp Thing’s heroic actions were key in preventing the total destruction of the Amazon, but the Justice League also played key roles. Mr. Terrific’s statement explained how their magic users were key in slowing down the blaze long enough for Aquaman to rescue Swamp Thing, and the rest of the league saved countless lives, both human and animal, in their evacuation efforts. Superman and Flash alone evacuated millions over the hours the fire raged. Thanks to their efforts, less than a thousand people died, most of those before the League arrived on the scene or first responders who perished while aiding the League.

In the two and a half weeks since the fire, most of the evacuated people have returned to their homes. World Housing has led the effort to rebuild any destroyed homes, funded in part by a large donation from the United Nations and the governments of the affected countries. Ricardo Esquaz, spokesperson for World Housing, estimates that 90% of people displaced by the fire will have homes again within three months.

Efforts have also been made to return the animals evacuated by the Justice League to their homes in the forest, although that is considerably more difficult. Dr. Natália Ventura Justo, an ecologist at the Universidade de São Paulo is in charge of the rehabilitation efforts. She explained that “as they were evacuating the animals, the Justice League kept track of where most of them had been found. So after the fire died, Flash and Superman were able to return most of them to their homes. But some of the animals were injured in the flames and now we have to help them heal so we can eventually release them.”

An aerial image of the raging blazes and Flash’s light trail as he works to evacuate the rainforest, 2025. (Image: Silvana Shinoda at El Comercio, via helicopter)

Then, as Dr. Justo explained, there were also some animals that the league was unable to record the original location of due to the chaos. She and her team have been working to attempt to narrow down their origins with innovative soil and spore analysis methods. They hope to release most of these animals, currently being cared for at wildlife centers around South America, somewhere within the general vicinity of their origins.

The Amazon Rainforest and its inhabitants, both human and animal, are thankfully expected to make an almost complete recovery within the next six months. But, as well as this story went, it could have gone much worse. If it weren’t for the timely actions of the Justice League and Swamp Thing, we may have faced global destruction. Even with their efforts, people will be struggling for months to return to their former lives.

This event serves as another powerful reminder of exactly what the Justice League shields us from. So the next time you see a league member, particularly one of those who battled the blazes, make sure to thank them.

Subscribe to the Daily Planet Tumblr page for more stories like these!

#dp recent events #dp justice league #dp supers #dc comics #dc roleplay #dc rp #justice league #justice league unlimited #superman #wonder woman #flash #swamp thing #zatanna zatara #wednesday spoilers #Justice League Unlimited (2024-)

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spacetimewithstuartgary · 6 months ago

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Martian spring involves lots of cracking ice, which led to this 66-foot-wide (20-meter-wide) chunk of carbon dioxide frost captured in freefall by the HiRISE camera aboard NASA's Mars Reconnaissance Orbiter in 2015. Credit: NASA/JPL-Caltech/University of Arizona

As light shines through carbon dioxide ice on Mars, it heats up its bottom layers, which, rather than melting into a liquid, turn into gas. The buildup gas eventually results in explosive geysers that toss dark fans of debris on to the surface. Credit: NASA/JPL-Caltech/University of Arizona

Sometimes, after carbon dioxide geysers have erupted from ice-covered areas on Mars, they leave scour marks on the surface. When the ice is all gone by summer, these long scour marks look like the legs of giant spiders. Credit: NASA/JPL-Caltech/University of Arizona

As temperatures rise, powerful winds kick up that carve deep troughs into the ice cap of Mars' north pole. Some of these troughs are as long as California, and give the Martian north pole its trademark swirls. This image was captured by NASA's now-inactive Mars Global Surveyor. Credit: NASA/JPL-Caltech/MSSS

Surrounded by frost, these Martian dunes in Mars' northern hemisphere were captured from above by NASA's Mars Reconnaissance Orbiter using its HiRISE camera on Sept. 8, 2022. Credit: NASA/JPL-Caltech/University of Arizona

Avalanches, icy explosions and dunes: NASA is tracking New Year on Mars

Instead of a winter wonderland, the Red Planet's northern hemisphere goes through an active—even explosive—spring thaw. While New Year's Eve is around the corner here on Earth, Mars scientists are ahead of the game: The Red Planet completed a trip around the sun on Nov. 12, 2024, prompting a few researchers to raise a toast.

But the Martian year, which is 687 Earth days, ends in a very different way in the planet's northern hemisphere than it does in Earth's northern hemisphere: While winter's kicking in here, spring is starting there. That means temperatures are rising and ice is thinning, leading to frost avalanches crashing down cliffsides, carbon dioxide gas exploding from the ground, and powerful winds helping reshape the north pole.

"Springtime on Earth has lots of trickling as water ice gradually melts. But on Mars, everything happens with a bang," said Serina Diniega, who studies planetary surfaces at NASA's Jet Propulsion Laboratory in Southern California.

Mars' wispy atmosphere doesn't allow liquids to pool on the surface, like on Earth. Instead of melting, ice sublimates, turning directly into a gas. The sudden transition in spring means a lot of violent changes as both water ice and carbon dioxide ice—dry ice, which is much more plentiful on Mars than frozen water—weaken and break.

"You get lots of cracks and explosions instead of melting," Diniega said. "I imagine it gets really noisy."

Using the cameras and other sensors aboard NASA's Mars Reconnaissance Orbiter (MRO), which launched in 2005, scientists study all this activity to improve their understanding of the forces shaping the dynamic Martian surface. Here's some of what they track.

Frost avalanches

In 2015, MRO's High-Resolution Imaging Science Experiment (HiRISE) camera captured a 66-foot-wide (20-meter-wide) chunk of carbon dioxide frost in freefall. Chance observations like this are reminders of just how different Mars is from Earth, Diniega said, especially in springtime, when these surface changes are most noticeable.

"We're lucky we've had a spacecraft like MRO observing Mars for as long as it has," Diniega said. "Watching for almost 20 years has let us catch dramatic moments like these avalanches."

Gas geysers

Diniega has relied on HiRISE to study another quirk of Martian springtime: gas geysers that blast out of the surface, throwing out dark fans of sand and dust. These explosive jets form due to energetic sublimation of carbon dioxide ice. As sunlight shines through the ice, its bottom layers turn to gas, building pressure until it bursts into the air, creating those dark fans of material.

But to see the best examples of the newest fans, researchers will have to wait until December 2025, when spring starts in the southern hemisphere. There, the fans are bigger and more clearly defined.

Spiders

Another difference between ice-related action in the two hemispheres: Once all the ice around some northern geysers has sublimated in summer, what's left behind in the dirt are scour marks that, from space, look like giant spider legs. Researchers recently re-created this process in a JPL lab.

Powerful winds

For Isaac Smith of Toronto's York University, one of the most fascinating subjects in springtime is the Texas-size ice cap at Mars' north pole. Etched into the icy dome are swirling troughs, revealing traces of the red surface below. The effect is like a swirl of milk in a café latte.

"These things are enormous," Smith said, noting that some are a long as California. "You can find similar troughs in Antarctica but nothing at this scale."

Fast, warm wind has carved the spiral shapes over eons, and the troughs act as channels for springtime wind gusts that become more powerful as ice at the north pole starts to thaw. Just like the Santa Ana winds in Southern California or the Chinook winds in the Rocky Mountains, these gusts pick up speed and temperature as they ride down the troughs—what's called an adiabatic process.

Wandering dunes

The winds that carve the north pole's troughs also reshape Mars' sand dunes, causing sand to pile up on one side while removing sand from the other side. Over time, the process causes dunes to migrate, just as it does with dunes on Earth.

This past September, Smith coauthored a paper detailing how carbon dioxide frost settles on top of polar sand dunes during winter, freezing them in place. When the frost all thaws away in the spring, the dunes begin migrating again.

Each northern spring is a little different, with variations leading to ice sublimating faster or slower, controlling the pace of all these phenomena on the surface. And these strange phenomena are just part of the seasonal changes on Mars: the southern hemisphere has its own unique activity.

#science #space #astronomy #physics #news #nasa #astrophysics #mars

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mwexodusofficial · 5 months ago

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Mouthwashing: Exodus | Chapter I: Primer

In the year 2087, humanity discovered FTL (faster-than-light travel) via rapid transmission between distant locations by using a form of quantum entanglement combined with dark matter reactors.

This discovery exploded the commercial spacefaring ventures, and within decades multiple solar systems, planets, and new spacial phenomena were discovered. As asteroid mining became mainstream, rare minerals prompted a new age of technological development that exploded humanity's progress exponentially. Newly-discovered planets were quickly terraformed, colonized, industrialized and beautified. The new wave of entrepreneurs and innovators, combined with the excitement of exploration, sparked revolutions in every industry.

The medical industry, in particular, had produced cutting-edge bionic limbs and organs, stem-cell regeneration, limb cloning and micro-bots capable of eliminating nearly every ailment known to man. Mankind was nearing its zenith in reaching a true utopia under a united galactic government.

Then came The Terror. A mind-boggling, behemothic alien creature the size of the moon entered the Terra solar system at FTL speeds and immediately assailed Earth with millions of its monstrous offspring- Gaiters, termed for their stumbling gait when they moved around. These car-sized creatures ripped through the atmosphere and slammed into the surface, wreaking havoc and slaughtering humans wherever they trampled. This cataclysmic event was met with global outrage and fury. Military counterattacks, long-range bombardment, and close-range combat led to the deaths of billions of humans, on top of the already overwhelming casualty rate of innocent civilians.

(Below, a Gaiter - Circa August 2nd, 2122 - Art by @Sherza_shrew)

The Terror was eventually brought down by a heroic band of starship fighters strapped with nuclear warheads, and its offspring were tracked down and killed. However, the losses it caused and the widespread destruction it left created a mass paranoia amongst humanity. Military expenditure and innovation skyrocketed, which caused regression in most other industries' advancements. Logistics were heavily disrupted as Earth was the central planet of commerce amongst the galaxy, which led to many colonies and governments being forced to revert to heavily outdated technology. Governments became corporatist and autocratic as the fear of hostile alien life drove regressive policies and mass consumerism.

And on January 24th of 2263, a transport freighter by the name of Tulpar, working its last human shift for Pony Express, fatefully collided with a stray asteroid...

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"Captain, Orion speaking. The Tulpar flight path stops here."

Captain Hawkes reached across the multitude of control panels around him and toggled a switch that brought up a holographic cartograph of the transport freighter's flight path. It was true. After 10 long months of travel, they'd arrived at their destination.

"Pull up the far-range scanners and find that damn ship." The Captain radioed in over his headset. "When we finish this rescue mission, we're getting a fat paycheck and medals galore. So scour that freighter from top to bottom and ensure no man or woman is left behind."

Captain Hawkes switched comms to EVA and Medical channels to issue further orders.

"EVA Team, make sure you're in gear with plasmas loaded, your time to shine is coming up. Triage team, I want you following the EVA Team if the oxygen in the freighter passes scrutiny."

"Roger that, Cap, over."

"Copy Captain, over."

He switched off those channels and pulled up imaging of outer space from the hundreds of cameras installed on the exterior of the massive military vessel. Nothing aside from distant stars could be seen in any direction. It was fortunate that the far-range scanners could reach up to 2 Astronomical Units away. The Captain turned to his co-pilot, Sammy; a stocky yet athletic-seeming young man with bright, optimistic eyes and a charisma that swayed the whole crew and landed him at the third-highest authority on the vessel in under 2 years.

"Sammy."

"Hey-ho."

"Take over piloting. I intend to board the freighter and assuage the crew."

Sammy's eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"Captain, you sure that's a wise move?"

Another reason why the Captain had taken on Sammy was because he was intensely straightforward. Whereas other crew rarely dared to question Hawkes' decisions and assessments due to his decades of military service, Sammy had no such fear. That brash honesty had come in handy in the past, and it would continue to do so in the future.

"Yes. This I am confident in. And I'll tell you why." Hawkes addressed him, reaching into his coat pocket and removing a cigar box. He took one out and lit it up on the spot, blowing the smoke to the side.

"How long have you been chainsmoking cigars, Captain?"

"Since before your balls dropped, kid. And I haven't been chainsmoking, wise ass; I'm enjoying the privilege of my position."

"Excessive enjoyment."

"Anyways... around a decade ago, we did a rescue mission similar to this one- a stranded commercial freighter in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere. We docked and I sent in the EVA Team, only to find out minutes later that half of them had been stabbed, shot and beaten severely by the crew. Turns out the crew was full of exotics who didn't speak English, and the EVA leader using the translator was a brash prick. Couple of his words got mistranslated into some very unsavory terms, and next thing you know, a battle breaks out."

"Damn... did anyone die?" Sammy asked curiously. Captain Hawkes seemed particularly offended at the question and flicked Sammy's forehead with his index finger and thumb.

"Nobody died because I acted quickly. That's Rule Number One, if you ever take command. Rule Number Two, is to never show favor to any subordinate or equal in times of crisis. That EVA leader I told you about- he was a good friend of mine, over 3 years. After that mission, I canned him. You can't have people that senseless and irresponsible onboard a vessel; they can be the sole unravelers of your entire ship. I've seen it happen too many times, on too many journeys with too many cruisers."

Sammy nodded his head solemnly, acknowledging the Captain's grim background. Captain Hawkes was a near-legend within the Canaris Armed Forces, and a war hero to the citizen populace. His astounding feats at the Battle of Yamilcar and the Siege of Korres were widespread tales, and his list of accomplishments were so vast that even the most ill-informed citizens of Canaris heard regaling tales of his bravery, cunning, and heroism in their day to day.

To be in his ranks and, no less, his Third Mate, was an honor that Sammy latched onto with intense fanaticism. Captain Hawkes was even more magnetic in person- despite his decades of battle experience, he was eloquent in his way of speaking, mixed with occasional layman phrases and speech. It was incredibly endearing no matter if a person were the lowest criminal or the most elite of socialites.

Yet in this moment, when Hawkes spoke that last sentence, his eyes grew foggy and distant. His speech staggered and broke into a brittle narrative, as if he were revisiting haunting memories in his mind.

"I've seen the crew of a medical cruiser slaughtered port and bow across the ship. They'd hacked each other into gore. The surveillance records revealed a young woman had been stoking distrust after their food storage had broken out into flames. She'd deluded herself into believing there was an enemy spy onboard, romanced the Captain to get a hold of his keys to the cockpit- where she locked herself in when the killing started. Turned out she was taking smoke breaks in there, near the pallets of gauze and disinfectant. One carelessly thrown cigarette was all it took. And she was fuckin' ignorant to it."

Sammy saw as his eyes filled with a subtle but brimming rage, as if he were reliving the experience and seeing the perpetrator right in front of his eyes. A nasty grin erupted across his face.

"She was lucky little cunt. She was the last alive, and perished right as we docked with their ship. Found her locked inside those same Captain's quarters, wrists slit and in the middle of pigging out on cigars and emergency rations. And as a final 'fuck-you' to the people who had survived the slaughter, she turned on the ship's disinfectant sprayers and left it on. Everyone else on the ship suffocated to death."

He averted his eyes, shaking his head with a cynical sneer on his face.

"Rachel Gillaby. The lowly sack of shit that doomed an entire crew for no good reason, and the Captain who put his personal pleasure ahead of foresight. Hopes, dreams, ambitions, the desire to survive- all snuffed out in despair, because of one petty bitch and a worthless captain to boot."

Hawkes slowly leaned towards Sammy, eyes burning with fire and brimstone, his facial muscles stretched in vitriol. In a passing moment, Sammy could plainly see the faint bags under Hawkes' eyes; gray hairs peeking out within his scalp that weren't easily seen.

"You read the same report I did." Hawkes rasped, toggling a few buttons to turn off the ship's primary engines. "The Tulpar's autopilot was overridden, sent on a direct collision with the asteroid. Only the Captain is capable of that. And that means we likely have another Rachel on this ship. So I'm going to board that ship with my own two legs, and I'm gonna find that bastard, and I'm going to make sure he suffers the worst imaginable fate a human being can conceive."

"Are we allowed to punish civilians during a rescue mission, Captain?"

Hawkes chuckled slyly, opening a side drawer, pulling out a hefty red book, and tapping Sammy (somewhat-lightly) on the head with it.

"You haven't read up on Canaris Spacetime Intragalactic Law, have you?"

"N-No, sir. Sorry, sir."

"I'll simplify. The Discretion Clause under Article Seven permits 'interrogations, up to and no further past the point of severe injury, for suspected traitors, mutineers and corsairs, as long as medical aid is provided hereafter.' As long as they are breathing, coherent and given medical care, we can de facto torture them."

"Captain... is that ethical?"

"I base my ethics on the magnitude of the crime and their truthfulness." Hawkes retorted, finishing his cigar. "I'm sure you would treat a suspect of rape who's lying to your face much differently than an accomplice to petty theft who spills their guts out. Then again, I'm one man. I know how bad this law can be for victims of cruel Captains. But with what our nation is dealing with right now, changing a law like this is probably not at the top of the list. And I sure as shit am gonna use it to my advantage for however long it lasts."

Sammy nodded, this time more fervently, an expression of grim determination on his face.

"I see. Good luck, sir."

The Captain exhaled, patting Sammy on the shoulder as he stood up.

"Don't scratch this beauty even slightly when we dock. It needs to look pristine for the photo ops when we return home."

Sammy smiled, nodding one last time, as Captain Hawkes briskly made his way down to the EVA Team.

"God is with us!" Sammy shouted out, and the Captain stopped in his tracks for a moment. He smiled, and this time it was one of youthful relief.

"God is with us." He mumbled, almost hesitantly. For the last 40 years of his life, he'd been a cynical, grim atheist who considered the universe a cold, dark place that was entirely uncaring of life and its inherent suffering. Less than 3 months ago, he had carried a deep hatred and loathing for religion, what he had believed to be a disgusting false hope to the fearful and dying. Less than 3 months ago, he was on the verge of retiring, finding his home agrarian planet, and blowing his brains out. It had been nothing but despair, rage, and agony. For decades, on end.

Now... now he felt... reborn.

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(Music: "Ratnik", by Avery Alexander)

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"Captain, freighter sighted. Proceeding to point."

"Good, I'm turning off coms for a sec to speak with EVA."

"Copy, over."

Hawkes switched off the radio receiver, looking across the room at the EVA Team gathered in front of him. Outfitted in Roxcorp EVA suits. Plasma cutters in one hand, Hyletta handguns in the other. Hawkes had Central Command to thank for these cutting-edge weapons; they'd approved his recent request for up-to-date weaponry and artillery. This ship was outfitted and his crew rearmed; the Argonaut II was now one of the most powerful military ships in the nation, and arguably within the Lower Quadrant.

Hawkes could be more proud as its longtime Captain.

"EVA Team, last check."

"Ready." "Ready, Cap." "Ready, sir."

"Ready, Captain Hawkes!" "Ready!" "Ready."

Hawkes nodded, looking to the Triage Team. Outfitted in Janil Company space suits, carrying medical bags and cauterizers; even they carried holsters with handguns. Captain Hawkes was taking no chances after that incident he'd told Sammy about.

No more of his crew's blood would be on his hands.

"Form up!" Hawkes barked, and the teams stacked into two column in front of the depressurization chamber. Hawkes flipped on his radio and switched to Drone Control.

"Elise, what are the unmanned drones seeing?"

"The freighter suffered catastrophic damages at the front where the cockpit lies. There's sealing foam covering most of the front, and there are dozens of holes over the exterior and nearly to the back of the ship that's filled with sealing foam. I've sighted two docking entrances, only the starboard side is unaffected."

"We'll be docking starboard, then. Any signs of forced entry or looting?"

"Negative, Captain. We're in some remote deepspace, so I wouldn't expect it."

"Catastrophes come when you least expect it. Comb it over one more time with the drones then report back."

"Copy, Captain."

Hawkes switched to the Command room, where Sammy was steering the ship.

"Prep us for docking, Sammy."

"Roger that, over."

Hawkes kept his radio on to wait for an ETA on docking, taking one final examination of the two teams in front of him. If there were signs of forced entry into the freighter, the Argonaut II's military garrison would be deployed through first. In this case, however, Hawkes' primary goal was getting emergency aid and rescue to these poor souls. A year stuck in a crashed and floating freighter in the middle of nowhere was no doubt terrifying, and Hawkes didn't want them to feel a second more of that- especially if there was a traitorous captain onboard adding to the despair.

"Elise here, drones found no external forced entry into the ship. You are greenlit."

"Copy, Elise, over."

"Sammy here, we will be docking, ETA 3 minutes."

Captain Hawkes tightened his gloves, unslinging the automatic energy rifle over his shoulders and into his hands, cranking the bolt intensity up a notch. If there was even one traitor onboard, he wasn't taking chances.

"2 minutes to go."

Hawkes noted the air was filled with nervousness. No matter the experience, no matter the repetition; nobody was truly and fully prepared to enter an unknown stranded ship unfazed. Any number of things could lie on the other side.

"30 seconds left."

It was up to Hawkes to make sure this mission ended in complete victory.

"We are docking in 3... 2... 1..."

Rumble.

The ship quaked in momentary reverberation as its docking anchors latched onto the port of entry into the ship. The light to the airlock pulsed green as it confirmed docking was successful.

"Get moving!" He barked, and the EVA leader opened the airlock, walking in with the teams and Captain Hawkes. The airlock closed shut behind them. The depressurization chamber hissed loudly as pressure equalized between the Argonaut II and the Tulpar. Hawkes latched his helmet onto his spacesuit, readying his rifle.

The doors to the Tulpar, however, did not open. This was somewhat unexpected by Hawkes; dark matter reactors were infinite power sources, which meant that the Tulpar's reactors weren't maintained and shut down as a security measure to prevent over-stimulation and explosion. That didn't bode well, and Hawkes was beginning to feel a sinking ache in his chest as he gave the next order.

"EVA, do your thing."

His EVA leader, Wally, shuffled forward alongside two others and began searing into the dense metal with their plasma cutters. The process took only a few minutes, and after finishing, Hawkes kicked in the cut-up doors. Chunks of metal crumbled to the ground, and Hawkes prepared for a large wave of suction if the inside of the ship was depressurized. To his surprise, it never came. The ship was pressurized, but out of power, which meant that the auxiliary batteries were still working.

Hawkes walked aboard with his crew, rifle raised as they scanned each part and parcel of the ship's interior.

"What the hell..." He muttered, seeing a host of destruction, dereliction, and blood scattered across this floor of the ship. On edge, Hawkes made his way towards the cafeteria- this was commonly where survivors tended to gather on stranded ships due inherently to its social atmosphere.

On top of the unease, Hawkes was also angered as he made his way through the tight corridors of busted pipes, broken machinery and leaking silos. Having been a captain for over 30 years now, Hawkes could tell by look and instinct alone what state a ship was in.

This one was nearing the verge of self-implosion. He quickly went for his radio.

"Search Teams, we won't have time for salvaging ops. This ship is in a bad state, and I don't trust the next hour. Find the survivors and any bodies, and evac A-S-A-P."

"Yes, sir!" "Roger, Captain!"

Satisfied, Hawkes continued down the winding corridors, and noticed a change in scenery as he rounded a corner-

"What the fuck?!"

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(Music: "Temporary Suicide", by Kevin Penkin)

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Hawkes felt nauseous as he moved in to clear the room, seeing a horrific display of insanity and gore in front of him. Three mummified dead bodies were sat the cafeteria table, frozen in place like a picture in time. Holding back his horror, Hawkes walked up to the table and inspected the plates in front of them.

"This is fucking sick." He mumbled, coming to the quick realization that there were sliced portions of leg meat adorned on the plates like cutlets. Without wasting a beat, Hawkes activated his radio.

"Hawkes here, get to the cafeteria. 3 confirmed dead. Get 'em to the Argonaut II and clean them up for the Revivifi- Revifiv- Rev- FUCK, The Rev-iv-if-ic-ation Ritual!"

"Copy, over."

Hawkes stared morbidly at the corpses of these three. A young woman, a young man, and a middle-aged man. What a horrible outcome. Momentarily, he inspected each of the corpses, attempting to figure out how they had died. His conclusion was sickening, and only left more questions than answers.

The middle-aged man, whose name tag read 'Swansea', had been shot in the chest and head. Hawkes knew only the Captain had access to a firearm on a freighter like this.

The young woman, whose name tag read 'Anya', had overdosed on painkillers, every orifice on her face leaking blood.

The young man, whose name tag read 'Daisuke', was axed in the face; Hawkes had glimpsed the bloody weapon sitting next to a makeshift bed as he had entered the room.

Sickening. Atrocious. Horror.

Hawkes had seen plenty of terrible, gruesome, and outright barbaric events in his life. But this was certainly up there. He could feel the despair in the environment, the utter hopelessness of this crude vessel. Just by looking around, Hawkes could glimpse the dystopian feel, the uncaring corporatist metal and sinew that only amplified their morbid horror at the developing situation.

This was a terrible death. And morbidly, that gave Hawkes hope. The more terrible the death- the more likely a revivification could occur. What a sick way of thinking, but it was the inevitable changing of the times. He got back on his radio.

"Elise, I need answers for what happened here. Rip open that surveillance station and get a drone to download the records, all the way back to a year ago, if possible."

"Shouldn't be a problem, Pony Express has shit vessel designs but they love to keep records of their employees."

Half the EVA Team and the entire Triage team clambered into the room, cleaning up the bodies and loading them into transparent body bags, before hauling them down the corridors to the Argonaut II.

"Hawkes, Wally here. We found the Cryo room, there's a confirmed KIA inside, gunshot wound to the head."

"Copy, Wally. I'm heading over."

It took a minute to get there, and all along the corridors Hawkes was getting more and more uneasy. They were gambling with their lives, for every second they remained on this freighter. It was in an obvious state of breaking down and he wanted to be nowhere near when it eventually imploded.

He arrived at the Cryo Pod room, only to find Wally using a plasma cutter to sear through.

"Hey, Captain. The door lost power, so we're cutting in."

"Take it away."

Another searing finished, another door kicked in. The team made their way inside, and Hawkes walked up to the cryo pod.

"Holy shit."

Sitting inside the cryo pod was a frozen amputee, wrapped in bandages and covered in seared flesh. A single eye stared out from the cryo pod's window, its eyelid missing completely.

BWOOOM! BWOOOM! BWOOOOM!

The atmosphere changed from unease to alarm as the ship's emergency sirens went off suddenly.

"Warning. Equilibrium disruption in DMRC-3. Dark Matter implosion imminent. Evacuate via the departure pods. Evacuate via the departure pods-"

"Get him out NOW!" Hawkes ordered. "Throw the corpse over your shoulder and haul ass!"

The EVA Team scrambled to open the cryo pod's chamber. It hissed and opened upward, and the EVA Team loaded the amputee onto a stretcher and sprinted for the exit. Wally picked up the dead body and threw it over his shoulder, making exit the same way.

The remaining group onboard the ship ran with terror pumping through their veins. A Dark Matter implosion was an extremely rare event, and often resulted because of low-quality engineering of the safety mechanisms that deactivated reactors when they became unstable.

In essence, this event was very in-character for Pony Express- that shitty low-tier transportation company. Events like this were so rare that any company, corporation, agency or interest group whose name was on a ship that suffered a Dark Matter implosion event could kiss their companies, livelihoods, and lives goodbye. Regulations on Dark Matter reactors and maintenance, across every nation, were the most strict and scrutinized.

"Elise, make sure you record that ship's activity on the far-range scanners when we're out of blast range. I want evidence to bring down those sleazy Pony Express shitstains!"

"Copy."

The last of the teams shuffled hurriedly into the airlock, watching as the door closed behind them. They practically stampeded into the Argonaut II as soon as its airlock hatch lifted up, and Hawkes fumbled for his radio.

"Sammy, disengage the port and get us the hell out of here!"

"Got it!"

A high-pitched whirling sound emitted through the room as the airlock clamps let go of the Tulpar airlock and retracted. The entire ship began to rumble as primary engines roared to life, accelerating the ship away from the Tulpar at increasing speeds.

"Sammy, we need to be a million miles away before that thing detonates, charge up the FTL and HIT IT!"

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Hawkes felt existential chills run down his spine. He'd only heard this sound once before in his entire life. It was the sound of microparticles of dark matter getting ready to collide.

It would be annihilation of everything within a 93 million mile radius. This was why Dark Matter reactors were only authorized for private sector companies in exceptional circumstances; they were so destructive if the failsafes failed, that the emergency contingency plans in place for reactors erupting near planets and stars all involved some form of death for any crew onboard the ship. The firstmost plan enacted is to use Quantum Positioning technology to 'warp' the unstable ship to an empty area of the galaxy.

This ship didn't have a Quantum Positioning Relay, so the next plan was to get out of dodge.

"Sammy here, FTL drivers are spooling, ready for takeoff in 5... 4... 3..."

Hawkes pulled up an external camera from the back of the ship to check on the state of the Tulpar. His face paled as he witnessed the ship begin to fold in on itself as two giant orbs of pure light spun around each other with intensifying rapidity. The vibration emitting from the dark matter could be felt to the bone, and the entire ship was reverberating nonstop.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!!" Hawkes began to panic, seeing the orbs nearing detonation.

"2... 1... Launching!"

BWWWWWWWWWWW-IP!

And just like that, they had entered FTL travel. The reverberation came to a sudden stop, and the crew surrounding Hawkes breathed a sigh of relief. Hawkes, meanwhile, was shaking violently with nothing but after-thought panic on his mind. He and Elise were likely the only ones who knew how close they had been to complete obliteration.

Taking several gulps to bring himself back to reality, Hawkes turned off his wrist holopad and stood up on shaky legs, attracting the room's attention.

"WELL DONE!"

The room erupted into raucous applause and cheers. The mission was done, and nobody had died. That was a victory in his and everyone else's books.

"Where's the amputee?"

"Over here, sir!"

Hawkes walked over to the amputee, who was just beginning to come to his senses from the cryo-freeze aftereffects. His eye slowly moved around groggily, then slowly, gradually...

Clarity.

"Hggghhkkk.... Hgggkk! HGGGGKKK!!!! HGGGGGKKKK-AAAAAAA!!!!"

The amputee looked around in wild, frenetic shock and jolted his seared limbs in a frenzy. The agony, the pain, the terror, the despair, the memories- they all came flooding back into his mind.

Almost immediately, the triage team moved in to restrain and treat the slowly-bleeding leg stump that had clearly suffered amputation. Hawkes immediately connected the severed leg limb to the scene he had witnessed at the cafeteria.

"What the fuck is going on here... Kai, get him some anesthetics and haul him to the Operating Room!"

"Yes, sir!"

As they carried him away, Hawkes' eyes, tired but observant, scanned over the corpse of the fourth dead crew member. He flipped him over to read his name tag:

Jimmy

"We'll find out what happened." Hawkes muttered with a grimace across his face. "We'll find out who's responsible. And we'll make sure we get justice."

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(Art below is credited to @rabstergabster on Twitter/X)

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(Portrait of Captain Hawkes)