#now i blame sutekh

[doctor-the-13th]

The TARDIS had something against Graham's chair—or better yet, Sutekh did.

[mbat]

i think ive said it before, but i truly dont understand the goals of villains whos entire goal is to kill every living thing in one way or another, especially when the ones that are whole societies are anti-individuality, and therefore entirely monotonous. like... if they succeed, what do they do after? what do you do when everything is dead? what do you do when theres only one group left, and you all dont do anything BUT the thing you can no longer do?

like i feel like its meant to be commentary or a metaphor somehow but it falls flat to me. like yeah we had something similar in real life but at least they had a vague idea of what would happen after

[dw-opinions-you-wont-like]

I don't like Ncuti Gatwa's performance as the doctor

I loved him in Sex Education and Barbie, and I really do think he is an incredibly talented actor, but something about his performance just does not work for me, and I think I've figured out what.

He's just doing too much. Every emotion is the biggest there is. When he’s scared he's TERRIFIED, when he’s sad he’s DEVASTATED, when he’s happy he's JUMPING UP AND DOWN YELLING. I wouldn't be the first to mention he cries in almost every episode (it's less this season so yay). That's not inherently bad, but when it's like that basically all the time, it's both exhausting, and makes it harder to connect with him as a character.

An example to demonstrate the point - let's compare the 14th and 15th doctor when they each meet an immensely powerful villain from the classic series.

Meeting the toy maker:

Meeting Sutekh:

Gatwa is clearly just absolutely horrified. Tennant has a hint of scared, but also a bit of angry, and mostly restrained. And that restraint makes it that much more affective, and that much more doctor-y. It also makes the moments when he is truely terrified more impactful.

When I watch Ncuti, most of the time I feel like I'm watching an actor play the doctor on stage. Like, this would be great if I were sitting in a theater a couple rows back! But not here.

It also makes him come off as more manipulative than I think they want. Especially in the context of this season where he’s supposed to be getting Belinda home and worrying about her safety. He seems to be enjoying taking her on adventures way too much, and almost like he’s purposely acting like That to get her to like him and make her stay with him. Like, I really do kind of question whether he really can't get her home or whether he's pretending? Because if you had just shown me this season without the context of who the doctor is, that’s probably what I would think.

I'm not putting all the blame on Ncuti for this. Obviously, the writing and direction also have a huge influence on how the performance comes off. For what it's worth, in the episode Boom, I thought he was brilliant. He truly felt like the doctor then. I've been waiting for that to happen again, and it has for a few glimpses, but every now and again he'll do something that takes me completely out of it.

If you disagree and you genuinely love Ncuti's performance I would love to hear what made you truly connect with this version of the doctor.

[badwolf-burningsuns]

Don’t mind me. I’m still rambling about my after thoughts (and dislike of the current franchise streaming situations and capitalism) 😅

One more thing…a lot of the problem with the season was the fact that it felt so rushed. I don’t know what’s up with every streaming service right now only giving shows 6-10 episodes per season tops. It condenses what they have time for.

We didn’t get to see Ruby and the Doctor actually grow closer. We were just told that they were best friends now because they only had 8 episodes for the season.

We only had one episode to cram the entire Rogue love story in instead of letting it build a little slower because we only had 8 episodes so they could only allot him 1 with the time constraints. (Still loved that episode and love them~ I don’t care how rushed it was. As a fellow gay, we rush into stuff like that sometimes 😂😂)

We didn’t get to see much of Sutekh. And I blame that on time constraints as well. But tbh…a lot of Doctor Who villains get defeated in one episode. The only reason it took more episodes in PoM is because it was three 20ish minute episodes. These days, I know we view television differently than back then but I think fandoms are hurting themselves by expecting the biggest boldest massive earth shattering revelations from a show that only got EIGHT EPISODES for the season.

The explanation of somethings that should have felt tied up well (ie, the snow or how Sutekh even attached himself to the Tardis) seemed very left open…and idk if that’s because we only had 8 episodes or if it’s because they’re going to touch on those open ended threads in the next season?

But this is happening with A LOT of franchises and I blame…capitalism. Streaming services want to spend the least amount of money possible on things while still being able to reap the benefits, which are our attention and money. We’re all obsessed with Doctor Who regardless so we flock to the tv even for just 8 measly episodes that they have to cram information and story and character building and world building into. And it just hasn’t been working out well but we’re sci-fi addicts. We’ll scramble for the scraps and still buy merch off of it 🙃

[calliecstuff]

I ran into Sutekh in a Star Trek dream last night.

I was posing as a Starfleet admiral (easy for a shapeshifter) so I could take over a ship. But it turned out the whole thing was a setup - they wanted me on the ship, so they could blame me for the unethical mission the crew were about to go on. And they'd brought Sutekh onboard to keep me in line.

Now I want to know how they were keeping him in line 😅

Unless that was my job - mutually assured destruction...

[sclfmastery]

thoughts, s15 finale

GOOD: --RTD's trademark emphasis on the crucial nature of ordinary people, because we imbue each other with significance and nothing is more alive and human. --Ncuti's best acting in maybe his whole career was in this episode. --The best writing as far as the Doctor being Doctory, while still uniquely 15, was also in this episode. The moment with the amnesiac mother was the best moment in the entire season for this. Acting, again, enhanced this significantly. --Normally I think nostalgia for nostalgia's sakem put in the hands of consumer capitalists, is the death of creativity, but Mel was a good choice; someone recognized Ruby and the Doctor didn't have quite enough on-screen lore of their own. --The Doctor facing that he had "caused" the entire universe to be killed and grappling with the guilt of making his traveling "fun" when there was a greater responsibility to wielding TARDIS technology across time and space. --Mrs. Flood. And no, I don't think she's a Master. Way too obvious, particularly the ending. But I also doubt she's an ally. She'll be a fun antagonist or at least complication. --Kate Stewart and her whole team.

BAD: --Massive buildup and anticlimactic, too-easy resolution (bring death to death is a very cool idea, but maybe achieve it a touch more simply), some empty spaces where character development could have been stronger and the jumping-right-into-danger could have been less frequent.... all of which I think can be attributed to squeezing an ambitious subplot into only 8 episodes, 2 of which were Doctor-lite. Certainly Ncuti Gatwa isn't to blame for being busy and successful during filming time. --The whole "You win, Sutekh" scene. The Doctor has killed millions intentionally already. Usually attention is drawn to the hypocrisy of "I bring life" (btw, Rose shout-out???) , eg Boom Town, End of Time Part 2, etc. And the Doctor is best when showing humility about that, while trying to be a champion of life by striving to be a better person than he was yesterday. This didn' t translate that nuance (or many others) terribly well. --People are going to say this is my bias but the conspicuous omission of the Master even from scenes where their existence almost HAD to be mentioned....feels awkward and strange.

--On that note, the Doctor insisting on not visiting his granddaughter. "Maybe someday" bitch why not NOW? At least give a reason for what's stopping you. I have many theories (still grappling with misplaced guilt for instance) but that in an episode about how Ruby's birthparents should have contacted her sooner felt clunky and forced.

[thirteen-fifteen]

I watched the Doctor Who finale and I have thoughts

Spoilers below

I actually did enjoy the episode overall. It gave me Flux vibes. Ncuti’s acting was really good in his emotional and big speech moments. I nearly cried when he was blaming himself and was screaming outside the Tardis door. I liked the scene where Fifteen and Ruby defeated Sutekh. Ruby was quite brave for that bit.

While I am happy for Ruby, I thought the Ruby mother reveal was a bit disappointing because they built it up to be this big thing and it wasn’t. They could’ve just made it as a little side story instead. Ruby’s meeting with her birth mother was sweet though.

I’m sad to see Fifteen and Ruby go their separate ways for now and I’m sad that it’s over as I enjoyed the season.

[somethingironicallycool]

Let’s talk about cults- a letter to witchblr

You probably know me from this blog or perhaps from @desertandstorm or maybe you just never heard of me. The point is, I used to consider myself magically inclined. Unfortunately, it’s been ruined for me. People always say that you never expect to join one and honestly that is incredibly true! These people were my friends and my mentors, I never knew it would blow up in my face like that.  When we think of spiritual safety, people on this site most often bring up spirits or herb safety, never fully touching on the topic of the overlap of covens vs. cults. I don’t blame them, it is truly a messy subject to properly handle without convincing someone all covens are cults (which is absolutely not true) So here’s my go at it based off of my experiences RED FLAGS

They’re pushy about their beliefs 

They try and separate you from the “others”

Slander other groups

proclaim they’re the only right

“nobody else knows what they’re doing”

Something about them just always has to be one step ahead 

The head of the coven can’t accept criticism 

Denial of problems

Conflicting info and logical fallacies 

This is iffy but casual godphoning of several gods and goddesses especially ones that they just started working with

Invasive actions such as unwanted readings and spells

(goes with the last one) refusal to take responsibility 

Gaslighting and other forms of emotional manipulation

treat you special when you first join

leave you in the dust after you lose your novelty

(please feel free to add more in reblogs)

you feel like you’re failing them somehow

your mental health worsens because of them

COMMON MISCONCEPTIONS

This list is based off of my own struggles I’m still trying to come to grips with

Cults are only physical!

I got snagged by a Discord server. They can be anywhere where you are vulnerable.

Cult leaders are creepy old dudes

The ring leader was a dude in college. They can also start off as your friends. Cults exist to take advantage, there is no set way for them to appear

Aren’t cults like devil worshippers?

No, we were a diverse group who all didn’t share practices. (I’m a pop pagan and no one else was)

It’s so obvious

While I knew something was wrong, it wasn’t until after I left and someone pointed it out I realized what I was in. 

Isn’t the damage physical? like brandings and shit

No, the damage was very much psychological and spiritual. While I believe someone did carve their arm under the influence of a leader, nothing physical happened to me. However, I can’t touch Aphrodite, Lilith, or Loki related things given their current associations. I can’t even worship Set now because I feel... dirty, like I was such a fool. 

WHAT TO DO

once more based off of my experiences if someone would like to add advice for physical situations please do 

Assess your situation

if they hit a good amount of red flags, they’re probably a cult

if they hit a few red flags, they’re a toxic group

Leave 

Cult or toxic group it doesn’t matter. They showed red flags, it isn’t worth it.

You’re going to feel alone, it’s ok. It’s ok to feel alone after all that time. You aren’t alone in that.  

Cut ties

Delete all related social media you used pertaining to the group

Make sure to work backwards so they can’t trace you 

Delete everything that could’ve touched your tumblr or discord or however else you were in contact. 

If you can’t delete certain accounts, change the username/ profile pic/ description and lock it down to private 

Pick a new internet handle to go under for awhile and don’t tell people your old name. fae rules. 

Lay low around the spiritual community and don’t try and interact unless it’s with people you trust 

Breathe

It’s ok.

I’m serious we’ll get over this

To those struggling right now, you are strong you are brave

I know it’s so hard to feel like you’re so small that everything you did was lies, but please don’t let your work go to waste. Your first reaction will probably be to destroy your previous alters or delete all your journal posts, but just hold on to them. Save them for later you might be surprised. 

Your pain is valid 

Closing thoughts

Quite frankly, I miss spirituality. I miss the community it brought. I miss the Dolorosa and working with Sutekh. I am beyond pissed that was forcibly taken from me, and even now, slowly but surely, I am trying to make my way back to where I was. Before making this post, I was ashamed. So horribly ashamed of myself and just filled with disgust and hatred. I also used to worship Aphrodite and to see her have been made a mockery of just breaks my heart

and its ok. 

I accept my normal now wasn’t the normal before. To expect my mind to just ignore everything that happened is stupid. That isn’t what healing is. Healing is... acceptance. Not of what happened, but of yourself. I will honor those that I used to by honoring myself and striving to create my own future free from those that wish me harm. 

[officialpittacuslore]

I made a thing and I’m not sure how I feel about it; I wrote a John/Five fic and here it is, have fun:

He hates the government. Despises each and every operative that stepped a foot near his cell. His new favorite activity was coming up with cruel and unusual ways to punish the soldiers who made a mockery of him.

He was a Garde, an intergalactic superpower. He should be respected, not bound by a straight jacket. He wasn’t a damn psychopath, just ‘confused’ like some of the allies like to put it.

He touched the scars on his wrist, gently brushing the thin lines that ran up his arms with his fingertips. Fabric burn. Burns from the constriction of the straight jacket that would never fully heal on their own. A permanent reminder that he was always going to be someone else’s enemy, even if he changed his ways.

No one wants me here but I stay anyway, Number Five thought, smacking the back of his head against the wall of his newest room. It was a much needed upgrade, with blankets and pillows that actually blocked out the air conditioning of the government facility and a lamp with working bulbs. It still locked from the outside, however; even though the walls were paper thin and a mere punch from him stood between Five and the cool night sky, his pride on that fact alone sometimes stopped him.

He chose his side. What more did they want from him?

The dead eyes came back to him. They kept him here. He wanted to help, felt compelled to.

He had a more secret mission. A special one.

While the rest of the Garde were too weak to try, Five knew that a portion of his strengths were in his bite.

Those eyes.

Five had groaned right before, he remembers the uncomfortable puff of white his breath had made. He remembers wishing he could slap his face or pinch the skin between his eyes in frustration when the tight, gray cut into his wrists and pulled on his shoulder blades. He was stuck with thrashing or shouting like the other crazies to let out his nervous energy.

He remembers thinking he chose. Five liked to dwell on that, apparently. He had picked his side, why wouldn’t anyone see that?

His story wasn’t unknown anymore, it felt like Number Five’s tale of woes was now everyone’s lunchtime gossip, his life reduced to harsh whispers and narrow-eyed glares. He was there, he knew the story well enough without the rumors. His Cepan croaked when he needed the old man’s teachings the most and the first man to help him after led him down a darker path somewhere else, somewhere far away. The Mog side.

Under Ra, the Loric were the enemy. Naturally. Once upon a time, the Loric ruined the Mog and now Mogadore was exacting its much needed revenge.

Ella helped him see otherwise.

John was the final push.

Those stupid eyes.

He’d been beaten, he’d been broken. He was defeated, held down in a rotting, frigid holding cell by the Garde he turned back around to save from the monster in New York.

Just for you dicks.

Five wasn’t going to let them break him any farther.

After all, Eight’s blood was on his hands.

For Eight, and for my people. No one else.

Or, so he thought.

For Four.

Six and Marina once mentioned a bond, how they were connected even before they met because their numbers in the kill sequence came so close together. Nine and Eight had it, so strong that Right still threw his life on the line, in front of the girl he loved, to save the Garde in line behind him.

Five and Four never had it starting out; Five blamed himself. He shut himself out from the rest of the Garde, picked fights with Nine and Six too much. It started to change; John sought him out to retrieve Nine but ended up saving his life anyway.

He didn’t know he’d come to feel this way about the other boy.

Oddly enough, he remembers the rumbling laughter from the opposite end of the long hall. His days of Mogadorian abuse trained him to recognize the voice from every bit it vibrated the air around his ears. Nine. He remembers the throaty sound, the doubt that coated his words soon after, and the musty mess of footsteps that Five soon lost count of as they grew closer. He didn’t know how many people were coming for him, he just knew to prepare for the shame that would come with Nine. When his biggest eyesore walked in, flanked by the one who ordered for the close monitoring, Five was less than excited.

But when he saw what had become of John, he was less detested but more curious.

Quite the bags under his eyes all of a sudden. He used to be more good looking.

Not only was his ally’s face drained of its joyful pink color but his hands were cracked, loosely dappled with specks dried blood. The drops decorated the remains of his jacket’s sleeves, telling Five all he needed to know, that those droplets weren’t John’s. He was still covered in the wear from his last biggest mission.

He remembers the cold expression, how John’s lips had been frozen in a nearly permanent frown. His blue eyes, once bright and blazing with hope that could move even the most lost of causes, were dull. Dull.

Even his signature, the blue eyes, lost their color. Almost dead.

Those eyes.

Five remembers being taken back. He remembers his stomach cramping at the mere sight him. He’d never seen Four look so defeated.

The image of Number Four slumped at the edge of his cell as he commanded Five to teach him how to fly replays in his head, over and over.

He’s such a mess.

It hurt to see him this way. It hurt that the last time Five saw Four, it was in such a shaken state. Like the life had been torn from him and replaced with half the effort.

What is wrong with me.

Four hadn’t left his thoughts; Number Four tried to accept him, he bargained with him for Nine’s life multiple times. Four ordered he be held instead of tortured, but that had been the only plus.

Perhaps he was a touch kind because they were both outsiders now. Shells of themselves. Was Four as in touch to realize that of himself though, that part of his very self died with Sarah Hart?

Five waited in his room patiently, rubbing the scarred skin on his arms over and over. He issued a fake complaint about his bed, anything to get an officials attention to relay a message to the communications wars where Sutekh and Four recently camped out the most. Five wasn’t a genius but he knew that Adamus Sutekh intercepted wavelengths and listened to Mog radio frequency. He was hell bent on redeeming himself, redeeming his worth over his gifts, that he hadn’t resurfaced from the dark crevice in days. He would rejoin with answers; work ethic was what Five found most admirable about Adam.

Four, in the meanwhile, was collecting as many powers as he could. Five was still sore from his brawl with Four midair, the way the straight jacket melted off of his body when his Externa took to and mimicked the protective Lumen field that surrounded the blonde boy’s body. Ximic made his comrade hungry, eager to grow beyond every single one of his peers.

The others feared the new Four. Nine challenged him, of course he had.

Five told himself he wasn’t afraid. That he was still curious, eager. But his left hand shook quietly at his side.

Worried.

Four’s dead eyes stared at him from his thoughts. To Five, he wasn’t John Smith anymore.

I’ll help you.

His door creaked open. Five’s eyes snapped up, meeting the light of the hallway. He braced for impact.

“You wanted to see me?” The void emotionless voice opened with. Four’s face followed as the other Garde slowly entered Five’s personal space, closing the door behind him with a gentle push of his telekinesis.

“Uh, yeah, I wanted to… talk,” Five mumbled, forcing himself to meet Four’s eyes. The sparkle was still gone, extinguished maybe forever.

Not if I have something to say about it.

Four had wanted him there, back in the safe house in Chicago when the world seemed out to harm him. Four wanted him here, under the careful eye of the soldiers and other Garde to make sure his choice was the right one. To make sure Five chose them.

I want you here.

He didn’t know what started to make him compelled him to care about Number Four. To watch the way his dirty blonde hair rested and curled on his brow, to miss the delicate blue swirls of color with his every thought or feeling. He missed the way his face pinched in thought or frustration. He missed the smile that was soft and telling, the brush of care or venom that was always genuine. Four was a warrior, there was no doubt in the part of him that craved victory. But, what had made him truly deadly was his kindness. Five hadn’t realized he fell as hard for Four as he had.

“I hope it’s some kind of clue or secret to killing Ra, otherwise I’m wasting my time,” Four hissed. Five held back his wince. He had to remember who he was facing. Four, not John. He breathed heavily.

“Yeah, I have a tip for you,” Five started slowly, willing his short panic attack away. He dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands. He wished he had one of his balls for back up. If he had one just to roll between his fingers and divert his nerves.

John’s eyes didn’t flicker, just narrowed.

“Well?”

“That you’ll never put a dent in him with that attitude,” Five drawled, letting the first crossed thought from his mind slip. He cursed internally when John’s eyes only darkened.

“You’re wasting my time.”

“And you’re wasting everyone else’s.”

The words fell out of Five’s mouth before he could shut his real thoughts in. He braced for an assault.

John’s eyes narrowed until the dark blue was almost lost in the sliver shape. Like he wanted to shut his eyes on Five like he’s shut himself away from everyone else.

“What do you mean by that? We’re preparing.”

“What do you think, Four? You don’t really care what anyone has to say as long as it’s about him. You flinch whenever anyone says the sound ‘Ra.’”

“We were sent here to-”

“To keep the race alive and kill Ra in the process. We’re the last of our kind, the nine lone kids that were sent to keep some galactic super race alive, not bent apart on suicide missions.”

“I seem to remember you killing one of those nine,” John’s voice almost froze him.

Beat.

He paused for a second. He thought of where his next words should take him.

Five would try to heal himself too.

“You know what,” Five started. He feels his body stop shaking as he gives in to himself, to his feelings. His dark anxieties that ate away every piece of him were finally quiet. “I know I did. And I’m living that nightmare for the rest of my fucking life.

He wanted to wait for John to cut him off, digging his fingernails deeper into his palm until he was sure they would be bleeding by the end.

“And it’s going to be no different for you, John Smith.”

John’s eyes flashed with anger. He opened his mouth to argue, to spit something but Five interjected immediately.

“You’re listening to me, god dammit.” Five dashed forward and grabbed the front of John’s clothing.

“Why should I, it hasn’t done a lot for us in the past,” John snarled back, snatching Five’s wrist. His skin burned, like he was close to activating Lumen to defend himself.

He thought Five was going to hurt him. Or worse.

“Really,” Five frowned, looking between the hand on his arm and John’s eyes. “Is that necessary?”

John didn’t respond, he kept his eyes trained on Five, ready for any possible movement that would warrant his defense.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“How about the part where you want to melt my skin off.”

John blinked, raising a cautious eyebrow. He seemed genuinely confused.

“Melt your…?”

Five lifted a hand and rested it on John’s before he was aware of himself. It felt scalding warm, a heat is sudden that Five almost ripped his hand from the skin. Even on the back of the hand.

His Lumen activates with his emotions.

Five always suspected how John’s personality tied in so closely with legacies. Emotions helped the Garde learn and control powers, to take the strength of a hard pain of loss and make it something worth while. To make the Garde special, outlasting.

With his constant hunger, John’s entire body must be burning.

“You’re hot,” Five added flatly, hoping John didn’t respond the way he thought. He moved his eyes from John’s hand back to the blonde boy’s face and flinched. His eyes reflected concern as they stared down at his own hands. John slowly lifted his palm from Five’s skin, revealing a burn mark in the shape of a hand print.

Oh.

“Four,” he started. If this was how John’s legacies were reacting to his change, he couldn’t be too kind with his words here. “You are so obsessed with vengeance that you have closed out every person on this damned planet that could have helped make it feel better. There’s nothing left except anger. You’ve burned every bridge you had to keep your one, helpless romance alive. Now everything’s in the name of her. I get it and all, but she didn’t start this war and she can’t end it either. Shit Four, you practically beat your prisoner for his legacies, your little lab rat that’s all out of luck as it is.” He let the other Garde go, keeping John at an arm’s length with a hand fastened on his arm. “Fuck, lucky is right, at least I knew your intention or I’d have filed a fat complaint.”

He was quiet after. Almost still, like Five’s words had taken the last stand from his blood. His eyes had a soft glow to them as they dropped to the floor, giving his royal blue color the first glance of life since he got the call.

“You don’t get it,” John’s voice fell soft. “No one here gets it.”

“You’re wrong. I’ve hurt and killed a lot, John. I think I can get it,” he murmured back. He bit back adding in Nine or Marina and their heavy losses. Marina hasn’t found him since their first fight John had to break up and Five feared for when she did confront him.

For now, Five would have to be her.

John’s eyes lifted and met Five’s. He decided to go on.

“It feels like shit. We can’t just… get over ourselves like nothing happened, I know and so does everyone else John. No one wants you to forget her, we just… want to help you.”

He couldn’t believe he was being this soft.

John closed his eyes tight, his mouth pursing with the effort to mask his feelings. When he let out a deep breath, they were close enough that Five felt all of the hot air hit his face.

He rested his forehead against Five’s and it nearly paralyzed him. He forced himself to breathe normal as a blush started to gather.

“But we can acknowledge that it hurts the most and that… pain isn’t all that matters,” Five added softly.

“It feels like does,” John’s voice cracked softly. He kept his eyes squeezed shut.

“If pain mattered,” Five started, pausing to find the right words. This was the first touch of vulnerability John was showing anyone in days. Maybe years to come. He remembered Emma and her family. Ethan. Kelly Sutekh. His Cepan.

“Then, I would still be a Mog soldier. Or maybe I would have never sought out anyone to heal me after my Cepan passed. Hell. I’d still be trying to hurt Nine to make myself feel better.”

Pain could matter, but Five took his pain to make himself better. For Eight.

For Four.

“I’m sorry for hurting you.”

Five held back his breath, heat gathering further in his face. He didn’t expect those words from John. “Oh, um, it’s cool, we’re all sort of-”

“No. It’s not ok.” John lifted his head up and met his eyes. The blue color was there, deep and swaying as it used to be. His lips were buckled in a deep frown, like he wanted to add something else. Five couldn’t help but notice how close their faces were, how close his lips were.

“Now, earlier, all the time. It shouldn’t happen all the time.” John laid a delicate hand on the burn mark and activated his healing legacy. The cool tingle was refreshing as it soaked into Five’s skin and reversed the effects of the Lumen.

“You treated me no differently when we fought and you’re treating me the same now. Shit, you didn’t even have to say or do anything for me and you’re still here yelling at me and thinking about me but I’ve been just been an asshole. I’m not broken, I’m not ruined, I’m just… trying to heal.”

“I, um,” Five hesitated, hoping the spark he lit in himself hadn’t died. He unwound a lot. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing but he didn’t want to say nothing at all. John’s eyes looked up but he didn’t speak.

Four and Five didn’t have the connection to make words sound aimless and true. Now was the time to change that.

“I’m always here, I mean, if you need me.”

“I do.”

Five willed himself to still.

“You were right. It doesn’t matter most, what matter is what it makes you do. There are things I’ve done that I can’t take back right now, there are people I can’t help right now or anymore. I pushed myself outside and built a wall so high no one could find me instead of letting myself… feel the pain and healing myself. And now I can’t let myself heal, everything is happening too close together.”

Pause.

“But you still looked for me.” John stood up from his job, meeting Five eye level again. “I thought everyone had stopped looking.”

Five hated how the soft words made his body shake the slightest. From warmth and uncomfort. He’s better than he thinks. Five wanted to speak up, wanted to tell him what he thought or how wrong Four was but when John’s thumb brushed his cheek, he lost all of his planned words.

“Four-”

“Is it better?”

“My arm’s fine-”

“No, my… hand.”

Five lifted his hand to touch it, resting it fully against his cheek.

“Feels good to me.”

Beat.

“That came out weird,” Five mumbled but John smiled. It was quiet, like the ghost of one, but a smile nonetheless.

Maybe it was their connection.

John leaned in and pressed a long, light kiss on Five’s lips. It stilled him, crashing every thought he had together into one. By the time he realized it happened, John had pulled away and turned around to leave.

“Thank you, Five.”

“Um. I, uh I should thank you,” Five stumbled through his words. He just hoped he didn’t make a joke about the loss. “My, uh, public speaking is getting better.”

He could have sworn he may have just heard a soft laugh from Number Four.