#Preferably a certain individual occupying my own body at this time but I just

[atlas-in-his-sleeping]

I hate result day so much I wanna kill someone

[sophieinwonderland]

An Exploration of Plurality, Simulation Theory And Human Cognition

0. Introduction

I initially set out to compile evidence for the existence of endogenic and non-DID/OSDD plurality. In the end, what I came away with was an understanding of human cognition that has largely been overlooked by singlet psychologists.

I will preface this by affirming that I am not a psychologist myself, and should not be taken as an authority. I would recommend reading the sources themselves. The majority are peer-reviewed articles, though I'll admit that I may have gotten lazy with sourcing in a couple places.

At the same time, remember to separate findings from opinions. Keep in mind that singlet psychologists are looking these phenomena from a singlet point of view, meaning evidence they find of autonomy in certain phenomena will be dismissed as an "illusion of autonomy" or something similar. Pay attention to the data, experience and research reported beyond the singular-normative biases.

I'm going to apologize in advance if any feels the language used is dehumanizing. My personal belief is that all headmates are individuals and their own people. My use of terms like "model" and "simulation" is to try to articulate the underlying mechanisms I believe the brain uses to create multiple consciousnesses. It is not to try to de-person anyone.

1. Defining "Plurality"

Before going further, we need a working definition of what plurality actually is so we can determine what types of phenomena would fall under the umbrella. Wikipedia refers to multiplicity as "the psychological phenomenon in which a body can display multiple distinct personas."

Personally, I disagree with the definition of the body "displaying" personas. It doesn't account for the fact that many headmates exist prior to the first time they front, and can exert control over mental simulations (imagination) and the host's emotions (passive influence.)

I prefer the Multiplicity wiki, which refers to it as "the state of sharing a body/mind with others." But "others" is overly broad while the former definition was too specific. With this in mind, I would use a the following definition of plurality:

"The phenomenon in which multiple independent and autonomous agents occupy the same mind/body."

These agents should theoretically be able to learn and grow over time and refer back to past interactions, as if developing their own autobiographical memories. They should appear as intelligent individuals with some level of self-awareness and be capable of passing a Turing test. (Rather than just repeating generic phrases, or feeling like you're talking to Cleverbot.)

Note that I am focusing on "plurality" which is an endo-coined term rather than "system." While I personally am on the side of non-DID/OSDD plurals using the term, this is going to be a red herring that's irrelevant to the actual point of this post, which is demonstrating that "plurality" exists outside of DID/OSDD.

2. Certain Hallucinations As Medically Recognized Plural Experiences

With that definition out of the way, I'd like to discuss another potential form of plurality that is medically recognized. That is, hallucinatory characters. I think it should be stated that not all hallucinations are inherently autonomous agents. But in many cases, they are, which would meet the criteria for a plural experience. From one study:

Novel findings from our study include the extent of AVH trying to control behaviour and emotions, the experience of AVH as an entity with complex social interactions and voices being imposed on individuals and occurring with multisensory additional factors.

Although voice authority was a feature from our primary data, this was a nuanced and more complex experience whereby voices were trying to gain authority and power through extensive and complex social interactions: manipulating comments, mocking, tricking and blaming. Emotional content is suggested as a discriminating feature of AVH in psychotic disorders by Daalman et al.

And given how frequently DID might be misdiagnosed as psychosis, and how antipsychotics have been known to sometimes negatively impact communication in some systems, connections between psychosis and plurality need to be discussed.

I want to note that just because both might qualify as plural experiences, that doesn't necessarily make the phenomena connected. It's entirely possible for different unrelated psychological phenomena to result in similar experiences. Both can be plural, but not necessarily related to each other.

However, I think there's sufficient evidence that they might be.

It wasn't long ago that a psychotic system asked my opinion on the relationship between psychosis and plurality. At the time, I drew a couple important distinctions between experiences based on what I had head from systems with psychosis. Psychotic hallucinations are hallucinatory. They can be seen and heard as if they were real. They also should just be hallucinatory. They wouldn't have their own emotions like an actual headmate would, nor be able to exert passive influence over the host. In contrast, a headmate would communicate entirely with a mind voice and have their own emotions.

Those assumptions, after further research, proved incorrect, forcing me to re-evaluate my position. Since these are fairly common misconceptions, I would like to correct them now.

3. Can Modern Psychiatry Actually Differentiate Between Non-Fronting Headmates And Hallucinations?

"The Representation of Agents in Auditory Verbal Hallucinations" explores the presence of agents in hallucinatory experiences.

It breaks down hallucinatory experiences into the following 4 categories:

Absent or functionally absent agency

Agency without individualisation

Internally individualised identity (anonymous ‘incognito voices’ or those given purely internally generated names)

Externally individualised identity (whether fictional or real)

It is important to note that types 3 and 4 make up the vast majority of reported voice hearing experiences (Bell, 2013). Indeed, Corstens and Longden (2013) recently reported that representation of an individualised agent could be formulated in 80% of clinical voice hearers.

So, 80% of clinical voice-hearers interpret these voices as individualized agents of some kind.

More importantly, from this paper, not all auditory hallucinations are actually auditory in nature. It cites two examples of this:

It speaks to me all the time, said one of them, it told me that it is necessary to go and ask the Pope for a pardon.—Do you know who speaks to you?—No, I don't recognise it, it is not the voice of anybody.—The voice is it far or near?—It is neither far nor near, one would say that it is in my chest.—Is it like a voice?—Not really, it is not a voice, I do not hear anything, I sense that I am spoken to.

...

It's hard to describe how I could ‘hear’ a voice that wasn't auditory; but the words used and the emotions they contained (hatred and disgust) were completely clear, distinct and unmistakeable, maybe even more so than if I had heard them aurally.

So not only does this prove my initial assumption that hallucinated voices are experienced as actual voices wrong, it also shows that people experiencing these "hallucinations" can feel the emotions of the hallucinated agents. The paper also delves further into how communicatory hallucinations can be felt by deaf patients.

You can find results from the survey here.

10% of participants reported purely ‘thought-like’ voices with no acoustic properties, and a further 40% reported ‘mixed’ voices that had both thought-like and auditory characteristics. These findings challenge the view that hearing voices is necessarily a perceptual or auditory phenomenon, and may also have implications for future neuroscientic studies of what it is happening in the brain when people ‘hear’ voices.

That brings me to the question of whether our current understanding of these phenomena can even differentiate between a hallucination and a non-fronting headmate. When looking for information of how DID is differentiated from psychosis, I found an article with the following quote:

For psychoanalyst and writer Valerie Sinason, the differences are there, though subtle: the voices her clients with DID heard came “from inside and not outside,” manifested from their most repressed traumatic memories. Disordered thoughts were not consistent, surfacing only at certain times, and time and place distortions only manifested when her patients dissociated into other identities. Crucially, it was trauma that defined her clients, and distinguished them from those with Psychotic Disorder.

That seems like a somewhat useful distinction between voices in DID and psychosis at first glance. Except as we established, voices in psychosis are not always reported as external. Furthermore, the DSM acknowledges that some forms of spiritual possession (which would include a delusional belief by the alters that they're spirits possessing the body) could be perceived as external agents.

And while DID almost always has some trauma holders, many alters in DID will not actually be traumatized, and have been known to form as a result of fixations and other reasons.

Even the relationship to trauma isn't consistent as a differentiator, as psychosis itself can be associated with trauma. From the paper on Agent Representation:

In a related manner, there might be a connection between the agent represented and the distressing nature of the voices. For example, Badcock and Chhabra (2013) show, in a comparison between clinical and non-clinical voice-hearers, that the perceived identity of the voice correlates strongly with the distress caused. Furthermore, the fact that a history of childhood sexual and emotional abuse, but not physical abuse, is linked to the likelihood of AVH, may suggest a connection with relationship trauma (Bentall et al., 2012).

All of this is to say that the relationship between hallucinatory mind-voices and non-switching-related experiences of DID systems is complicated at best.

The complication is confounded further in the case of many systems who also experience psychosis and schizophrenia, some of which have reported forming headmates and alters as a result of hallucinations.

For those who want to see more on the subject, this paper goes much more in-depth into similarities and distinctions between the disorders and why DID is commonly misdiagnosed with Schizophrenia or unspecified psychotic disorders. To summarize though, almost every diagnostic rule has a number of exceptions that make diagnosis infinitely more complicated.

Going back to the original question, if "alters" could form but not front of have memory separation, would psychiatrists be able to accurately tell the difference between them and a seemingly-intelligent mind-voice hallucination, if any such distinction exists at all? Based on everything we've seen here, I believe the answer is no.

4. Mind Reading, Simulation Theory, And Agents Recognition In Psychosis

Mind Reading refers to our innate ability to understand and intuit the beliefs, emotions and feelings of others. One popular theory for how mind reading functions is Simulation Theory.

ST (in its original form) says that people employ imagination, mental pretense, or perspective taking (‘putting oneself in the other person’s shoes’) to determine others’ mental states. A mentalizer simulates another person by first creating pretend states (e.g., pretend desires and beliefs) in her own mind that correspond to those of the target. She then inputs these pretend states into a suitable cognitive mechanism, which operates on the inputs and generates a new output (e.g., a decision). This new state is taken ‘off line’ and attributed or assigned to the target.

In essence, when you are intuiting the opinions and feelings of others, you create a temporary simulated state of the people you're attempting to intuit, real or fictional, and assume the state of that model to put yourself in their shoes.

How is imagination useful for third-person mind reading? If you seek to predict someone’s decision—for example, the choice of a main dish by your dinner companion at a restaurant—how could you use imagination to make this prediction? The first step is to put yourself in your target’s shoes, or take her ‘perspective’. Taking someone’s perspective here means adopting, as far as feasible and in light of what you know about her, the mental states she starts with. This includes her preferences about food in general, what she liked at this restaurant on previous occasions, how hungry she is on the present occasion (did she have a light lunch, no lunch, or a heavy lunch today?), and so forth. Using the imagination, you can simulate being in her various dinner-relevant states. Such pretend states can then be fed into your decision-making mechanism, which generates a decision to order a particular main dish. Having used this simulation process to generate a (pretend) choice, you don’t order this dish yourself but attribute the choice to your companion. Thus, the attribution is based on imagination-driven simulation

In these cases, this is referring to a short-term simulation built on past interactions. These simulations are only temporarily formed and would be immediately deconstructed. A related theory to this and psychotic hallucinations is presented in Rethinking Social Cognition in Light of Psychosis: Reciprocal Implications for Cognition and Psychopathology.

In particular, social agent representation (a) is present to differing degrees of complexity throughout development; (b) involves the capacity to internalize models of social actors including their physical and psychological attributes and requires these representations to be maintained and updated through implicit and explicit learning; (c) can involve representations of differing specificity and complexity—from individualized to general, from sparse to rich; (d) is used in both “online” and “offline” social reasoning to predict behavior (i.e., during live social interaction and when the agents being considered are absent); and (e) could be drawn on for reasoning about described, notional, or hypothetical individuals as needed.

These are the bullet points of the theory. I would highly advise checking out the whole paper, as it's well worth the read. This builds off of simulation theory, while not directly referencing it by name. But it also is describing a more complicated phenomena at the same time. The models created in hallucinatory experiences are often long-term simulations that save memories rather than short-term simulations.

If we were to apply simulation theory to the creation of headmates, it could explain why headmates are often based on other people. Fictives, Factives, Introjects, etc. And with false autobiographical memories from those characters' histories. This is something most theories of plurality don't really cover or address in detail.

4.1. A Note on Agent Models and Agent Simulations

From here on out, "agent model" is used to refer to data saved about an agent, physical or otherwise, in long-term memory. It's essentially a file of that agent's characteristics.

In contrast, an agent simulation is the model being ran by the brain as a program. To use a computer analogy, if you downloaded a chatbot to your computer, it is saved in storage as a file (model). When you open that model and begin speaking to it, and it starts using the computer's processing power, the model becomes a simulation. A model is only a simulation while the brain is processing it.

5. "Imaginary Companions" As Non-Pathological Hallucination-Like Plurality

From the previous article:

In middle childhood, from approximately 4 to 12 years old, explicit reasoning about social agents emerges and develops (mostly studied as “theory of mind”) as does the experience of illusory social agents. In a large sample of children between the ages of 5 and 12 years, approximately half reported having interacted with imaginary companions, and evidence suggests that children are able to integrate physical characteristics and personality into their models of imaginary companions with “whom” they have conversations. It is worth noting that the presence of imaginary companions has been found to be associated with both the tendency to hear words amid a sound stimulus of unstructured phonemes and better social cognitive development in terms of representing and understanding others’ mental states even in children at high risk for developing problem behaviors. In contrast, imaginary companions associated with negative psychiatric outcomes are typically not experienced as under voluntary control or remain beyond their typical developmental period in middle childhood, suggesting an altered developmental pathway that affects social agent representation.

One study into the autonomy of imaginary friends reported that in mixed relationships, about 50% of children with imaginary friends would report the imaginary friends being "in charge" of their relationship.

Although most children in positive relationships, regardless of friend type, said that neither was in charge, children in positive imaginary relationships were more likely to say that they were in charge (35%) than children in positive real relationships (4%). There was not a significant difference regarding friend type for children in mixed relationships. For the simple effects of friend valence, children in mixed imaginary relationships (M = −.29, SD = .18) responded to this question significantly differently than children in positive imaginary relationships (M = .25, SD = .14), p < .001. In the case of mixed imaginary relationships, 50% of the children said that their friend was in charge, compared to 5% of children in positive imaginary relationships. There was not a significant difference regarding valence for children in real relationships. In summary, regarding responses to the “Who’s in Charge?” question, we see differences in positive imaginary relationships and positive real relationships, but not between mixed imaginary relationships and mixed real relationships. We also see differences between positive versus mixed imaginary relationships, but not between positive versus mixed real relationships.

Additionally, children would report that they had the ability to "make their friend be nice to them" at about the same rate regardless of whether the relationships were with imaginary friends or physical ones.

Predicted values indicate that younger children and those in more mixed relationships (Friend Score) were more likely to say that they could make their friend be nice. These data suggest that young children and those in more mixed relationships are more likely to report that they can make their friend be nice to them than older children and those in positive relationships. Of note, relationship type—be it real or imaginary—did not significantly predict whether children believe they can they make their friend be nice to them.

There is also a strong correlation between Imaginary Friends and DID, with many imaginary friends becoming alters.

6. Other Advanced Long-Term Autonomous Models

Writers commonly experience something similar to this.

The most common form of dialogue with characters reported by our sample involved the writer speaking with a character directly (15%), with the character as a separate imaginary interlocutor. In some cases this form of dialogue was described as infrequent, or other forms were reported as being more common:

They sometimes tell me that what I have in mind for them isn’t right – that they would never behave or speak that way. I don’t usually answer back. (R 150)

I can ask them questions and they’d answer as if without my input, I haven’t done it much but when I do it works just as a normal conversation would do often times they do go off on a tangent. (R 29)

One writer describes the following experience:

My characters need to feel separate for me to hear their voices, which also means that when I’m trying to ‘put words in their mouth’ instead of listening they often talk back. And then we discuss things until I find what they would say. If I’m really stuck on the emotional transitions in the story, then listening to what the characters want to say is extremely important. […] I write in a way that’s equivalent to method acting: I have to be the character before I know what to write… and before I can listen to them as separate people in my head.

This makes sense with agent models and simulation theory, as a large part of writing is programming parts of your brain to be able to accurately simulate the emotions of other people. The characters of writers will often be advanced and elaborated modes.

Another practice is speaking to gods and spirits. The Vineyard Evangelicals employ a specific variation of prayer to learn how to speak to God and hear him talk back in turn.

These tests, or expectations, were commonly described as “discernment.” Discernment was an ambiguous, complex process. When a decision was consequential (e.g., was God calling the young couple to move to Los Angeles and away from the man’s family?), it was not uncommon for congregants to spend many weeks praying about the decision and asking other friends in the church to pray about the decision and to talk to them about their prayer experience. Congregants gossiped about people who said that they were following God’s voice but (gossipers thought) were really acting on their own wishes. Yet the expectations were clear. Even if hearing God in one’s mind was complicated, God was speaking and the congregant’s job was to hear.

...

Nevertheless, many said that they had learned to recognize God’s voice the way they recognized a person’s voice on the phone. As one congregant explained, “It’s a different sort of voice. I mean, I know my own voice. If I thought of your voice I would think of how your voice sounds, and if I think of my voice I think of how it sounds, even if I’m not hearing anything. It’s a different tone of voice.” Or, as another put it: “It’s like recognizing someone—it’s like, how do you recognize your mom?” It was acknowledged in the church that each person would experience God in their own way and develop their own patterns of learning to recognize him: some through warm tingling; others through goose bumps; others still through images or impressions or scriptural phrases. “I get a lot of images,” one person explained. Another said: “I rarely see images. When I pray for people I get sensations that I can in turn translate into words. ... Like more than seeing the bird, you feel the flight of the bird.” Congregants were insistent that one could learn to identify God. “It gets to a point you just know it’s God’s voice. It’s very snappy and comes with constant prayer just non-stop.”

The study showed a strong correlation between these experiences and the Tellegen Absorption Scale. As the article explains, Absorption is heavily tied to dissociation.

Tellegen first set out to develop the scale as a pen-and-paper measure of hypnotic susceptibility. In the end, the scale correlated only modestly with the current gold standard measure of hypnotic susceptibility, the Stanford C (Nadon et al. 1991; Whalen and Nash 1996). Yet the Dissociative Experiences Scale, probably the most widely used measure of dissociation, bases a third of its items on absorption. (Another third measures amnesia and the final third measures depersonalization.)

Absorption is also heavily correlated in both Psychosis and Tulpamancy.

7. An Overview of Modern Tulpamancy And Headmate Creation Practices

Modern Tulpamancy is the practice of intentionally creating headmates using methods very similar to those of the Vineyard churches in speaking with God. One of the most common methods is narrating, talking to a mental entity. At the same time, you listen to or feel for a response that doesn't seem like your own. This response is then attributed to the mental entity. This continues until it is elaborated enough to develop complete autonomy and sentience.

However, not all tulpamancers actually intentionally use these methods. Often, headmates identifying as tulpas will be imaginary friends from childhood, or fictives based on characters from works of others or the creator's OCs (like me.)

Several Tulpamancers (from both psychological and metaphysical communities) report having had sentient imaginary friends for up to several years before finding out about Tulpamancy. For one informant, the practice had been established in her family for several generations. Many Tulpas from the psychological tradition, when interviewed separately from their hosts, also claim to have ‘been around’ in their hosts’ consciousness before their hosts became aware of them through Tulpamancy.

Unlike the imaginary friends of children, the Vineyard God or hallucinations, tulpas display the ability to "switch" with their hosts. Unlike with DID, switching with tulpamancers is a learned skill with numerous guides on how to do it rather than an instinctive reaction.

So, what does this mean?

8. The Self As A Simulation

I imagine that some of these articles and conclusions may have seemed invalidating to some, suggesting that alters and other headmates are just imaginary models and simulations. But I'd like to suggest that the self, as a whole, even in singlets, is a similar model that is being simulated while the host is conscious.

It's important to note that humans aren't born singlets. They also aren't born plural. They're born, what I would call, null.

Toddlers only start gaining a sense of self around 18-24 months. This is around the same time that they begin developing empathy for others, strongly suggesting a link between them beginning to create other-models and self-models.

One paper on the neuroscience of mentalizing linked the process primarily to the paracingulate cortex. However, related areas of the brain also activate during self-thought.

There are, however, several studies in which this region of the medial prefrontal cortex has been activated by tasks that did not involve thinking about the mental states of other people. For example, activation of this area is seen in studies of emotion [33], especially when volunteers are asked to reflect upon the emotions they are currently experiencing [34,35]. These tasks also involve mentalizing, except that it is our own mental states rather than those of other people that have to be represented. The paracingulate cortex has been activated in imaging studies involving many forms of this kind of self-monitoring: visual self-recognition [36], autobiographical memory [37,38],verbal self-monitoring [39], self-generated thoughts [40],externally produced tickling [41], and perception of pain[42]. Gusnard et al. [35] have noted that the paracingulate cortex is active during the ‘rest’ condition in many studies of cognitive processes. They speculate that this might reflect a ‘default’ mode of functioning in which we think about ourselves when there is nothing external to attend to. It is well established that the ACC has a role in directed attention. Perhaps its most anterior section is specialized for directing attention to mental states.

All of this brings me to the following theory: The singlet self is a "model" created the exact same way as models of others. A singlet creates a model of themselves as a toddler at the same time that they form models of "mom" and "dad" and other people in their lives.

8.1. Internally-updated models vs externally updated models

I would propose that one fundamental difference in these models is that models of other people are primarily externally updated, while models of self are internally updated. That is, if you decide internally that you like chocolate, that becomes part of your internal self-model. You might project this onto your models of others. "I like chocolate, so everyone likes chocolate." But when presented with external evidence to the contrary, that model will be updated. "My mom says she doesn't like chocolate, so she doesn't like chocolate."

Imaginary friends, on the other hand, are examples of internally-updated models. They ARE the models your brain creates, in the same way that you are the model your brain created.

Autobiographical memories are thought to play a fundamental role in your sense of self. A purely externally-updated model will not form memories based on simulations, because the simulation is reset and recreated with each interaction of the simulation, based almost entirely on external data. When you imagine speaking with someone you regularly speak to, you are going to be drawing primarily from the non-simulated interactions you've had with them. The simulated interactions will not be part of the memories of these models.

In contrast, internally-updated models save memories from internally-simulated experiences. That allows them to gain experience with repeated interactions and elaboration, eventually developing a sense of self and autonomy. The mechanism for this appears the same, whether imaginary friends, intelligent hallucinations, gods, alters, or a "core" self.

I also might speculate that some delusions could be a result of the brain misattributing the actions of internally-updated models to externally-updated ones. (Imagining a relationship with someone you never met, and then believing the physical person has feelings for you as a result.)

8.2. Not Always A Clear Dichotomy

Many internally-updated models can also be affected by external observations. A God model may attribute good fortune in your life to his divine blessings. A fictive may change based on additions to their sourc's canon. And most notably, a singlet will often experience "choice blindness," where when presented with a situation where they're told they made a choice they didn't make and wouldn't have made, they will defend the choice as if it's something they had actually done.

I believe the above phenomenon of choice blindness, where external information overrides internal information about the self, further supports the theory that our self-model is operating on the exact same cognitive processes that we would use to judge other people by. When met with conflicts between the self-model and the perceived reality, the brain will sometimes adjust the self-model and memories to fit with the perceived reality, just as it would when evaluating our models of other people.

9. The Front As A Revolving Door and Dissociative Identity Disorder

All of this has led me to a re-evaluation of DID and "alters," which I'm sure is going to be controversial but is built on all the previously-presented studies.

Most psychologists focus on DID as the mind creating other "selves." But this always approaches alters as being parts or identities or masks, rather than as independent agents first, with a heavy emphasis on switching and less so on hallucination-like experiences. I'd like to suggest, alternatively, that alters are other internally-updated models, like the singlet "self." Most of these models are created through a natural process that most people are capable of creating and updating to the point of gaining self-awareness.

That said, DID itself is clearly not something that happens naturally, and is virtually always an environmental response to severe trauma. At this point, I think we need to look into how DID/OSDD forms and how it differs from the other forms of plurality I've discussed here.

From the Mayo Clinic:

Dissociative disorders usually develop as a way to cope with trauma. The disorders most often form in children subjected to long-term physical, sexual or emotional abuse or, less often, a home environment that's frightening or highly unpredictable. The stress of war or natural disasters also can bring on dissociative disorders.

Personal identity is still forming during childhood. So a child is more able than an adult to step outside of himself or herself and observe trauma as though it's happening to a different person. A child who learns to dissociate in order to endure a traumatic experience may use this coping mechanism in response to stressful situations throughout life.

I would propose that this can manifest in multiple ways. In some cases, the child may imagine they're someone else while enduring trauma, essentially switching in an existing model. (That model may or may not already have an elaborated sense of self with autobiographical memories by this point. Some DID systems I've encountered report plurality prior to trauma.) In others, they may just leave front completely vacant or with a "blank" model.

In the latter case, continued switching to that blank model, with it gaining memories each time, results in the model gaining sentience and a sense of self.

But there's more happening here than just the creation of an alter. Imagine front as a revolving door. This door allows the self-model to connect with and pilot the body. Dissociation is the self moving through the door from front to back, allowing a new model to take its place. (Or multiple models, in the case of co-fronting and blending.)

For the tulpamancer, switching is a skill that requires you to learn how to make the door revolve. The tulpamancer and other forms of non-DID/OSDD needs to learn how to move to back, and the tulpa needs to learn how to control the body.

But the brain learns to do things easier the more they're done. If trauma trains your brain to switch when encountering certain triggers, that's going to make switching an automatic and difficult-to-control reaction. Essentially, this results in a malfunctioning door.

DID also forms before a "core" is sufficiently developed. In non-DID/OSDD systems, the core often serves a gatekeeper-like role, being able to control switches. Without a developed core, agent models are closer to equals, and the internal mechanisms responsible for regulating the door aren't functioning properly. Taken together, this results in disordered switching and dissociation.

Another thing simulation theory might help explain in relation to DID is the mechanisms inter-identity amnesia. When you simulate a conversation between two models, these short-term simulations are created with an assumption that they can't read each other's thoughts, nor those of the agent who is running the simulation. This is a necessary aspect of theory of mind, and understanding that other people may not know everything that you know.

Separation of memory among different internal models is another natural human ability that becomes malformed in DID as a defense mechanism against traumatic memories. (Although it also likely be tied to state-dependent memory.)

10. Autigenic?

A disproportionate amount of tulpamancers report Autism Spectrum Disorder. Many endogenic systems self-identify as "Autigenic." One common explanation for this is that part of Autism is a tendency to hyperfixate on characters. But following up in the memory separation between internal models present in people with DID, I think another potential relationship needs to be explored.

Children with ASD often have severe difficulty with false belief tests.

This could signal trouble separating the simulated minds of internal models, making it more likely for an elaborated internal model to gain unwanted access to the host's thoughts, and subsequently gain self-awareness. This could be part of why people with ASD are more likely to be diagnosed with Schizophrenia and other psychotic disorders.

Evidence for this is far from conclusive, but worth considering as we move towards a more unified understanding of the nature of plurality.

11. Summary

In conclusion, based on this evidence, I believe human cognition and theory of mind is based on the ability to create multiple "models" for predicting human behavior. Most singlets create a self-model around 18-24 months at the same time they create models of other people.

Models based on other people are updated based on external information and experiences, and do not form autobiographical memories based on internal experiences. Meanwhile, self, hallucinatory, spiritual and imaginary friend models are updated based mostly on internal information.

These internally-updated models build autobiographical memories based on internal experiences and become more elaborated the more the brain simulates them, to the point of eventually reaching self-awareness.

DID is caused by a trauma-defense mechanism in early childhood that results in unstable switching and memory separation among other internally-updated simulated consciousness models.

All-in-all, I believe that singular-normative society has obscured an integral function of the human brain that psychologists have only just began to scratch the surface of. I also want to thank everyone who has shared their own experiences with me and helped me gain a better understanding of the phenomena.

Finally, this is not intended as a definitive theory on plurality. It's a starting place, and I am open to adding to it and revising it as new information is presented.

Thank you for reading. ☺️

[elmidol]

Following Orders [Adam/Reader/Tyki] NSFW

originally written October 27, 2013

A/N: As stated, I am going to be posting a few of my older one-shots on here from DGM. I do plan on writing some new ones rather soon here, beginning with Tyki/RC. I am scheduling a batch of them now, which will all include this A/N.

These ones are unedited and include (y/n), which I no longer use in my current writing. Nothing wrong with it; just a personal preference. I do also want to state that there may be instances of mentions of face reddening and such, which I now know is not inclusive.

Fic Warnings: threesome; double penetration; handjob; blowjob; vaginal sex

You were standing in the rain with an open umbrella above your head. The fact that one of your hated enemies was the individual ensuring that you weren't getting wet? That stung. Big time. You glowered at the forming puddles as you thought of what had led you into this situation. Following a recon mission, you, a fellow exorcist, and the three Finders that were with you had managed to secure a set of rooms in a hotel. Go figure that some of the Noah were staying in that very building. The kicker? The Noah apparently had some family members who weren't privvy to the fine details. Thus the Millennium Earl had called a temporary truce; the Noah would not attack you or your team so long as none of you revealed any information to their family members. The fact that Central had approved? Well, that didn't surprise you; even if they didn't care about your life, they wanted your Innocence safe.

So here you were, standing under the umbrella that was being held by Tyki Mikk. You were just thankful it was not the Millennium Earl standing beside you, sheltering you from the rain with his horrid golem, Lero. You eyed the man to your right. He had brown hair, almond eyes, and some facial hair. Your gaze wandered about his monocle then down his body. He was attractive, to be certain. However, he apparently had some sort of affiliation with the Noah famly, thus you instantly hated him.

"I can go into town myself, you know," you said in a snappish tone. Tyki only snorted while the brunette coughed into his fist. "Oh, I see. You don't trust that I won't blow your secrets."

"Something like that," Tyki muttered as the carriage the three of you were awaiting pulled up.

You climbed into the carriage, a bit perturbed when Tyki slid in next to you and the other gentleman across from you. Running a hand through your hair, you stared out the window at the rain. It was pouring down heavily, yet there was no thunder or lightning yet. You wondered if there would be any at all. For a time the Noah of Pleasure and his companion were silent. Then, realizing that you were not going to speak to them any time soon, they instead entertained one another. By speaking in Portuguese. You scowled at this; you did not speak the language and had no idea what they were gabbing on about.

A mile later, Tyki at last turned to you, saying, "Is it true you propositioned Leverrier?"

"I was drunk, it doesn't count, get off it," you muttered out, your chin resting on your hand as you glared at the window.

"But...of all people, Leverrier?" He was obviously intrigued. You tensed when you felt him set his hand on his knee. As he began to rub the joint, you jerked your leg away from his grasp. "...wait...you're the one who propositioned the Earl when you were drunk... Before you became an Exorcist, that is."

"I'm done with this conversation," you said, feeling your cheeks reddening. Boy, how you wanted to forget that memory. You had practically taken off the man's pants. Never had you seen the man so flustered; you doubted the Earl remembered you--at least, you hoped he didn't. Whenever you had battled with him, he had never brought it up or hinted towards the event in the least.

"Maybe it's a sign you're just lonely," Tyki commented, his hands gripping at either of your shoulders, massaging the flesh. He scooted closer to you.

You shrugged out of his hands, ducking and moving to the seat across from you, the one beside the brunette male. "Look, just because you flirt with every exorcist doesn't mean they're interested."

"I don't flirt with every--" Tyki started, cut off by your snort and you rolling your eyes. The Noah smiled at you, a sort of sultry look that complimented his features. You pressed your legs together, turning to face away from him. "I guess I shouldn't be so friendly when I taunt people, eh? You, though... I never get the chance to flirt with you. You're always so quick to fight. But now? We have a truce, you know~"

"I'm well aware. Think I'd be sharing a carriage with you otherwise?" Irritated by the Portuguese male, you found yourself turning your attention to the man's companion. "And what's your story? You his gay lover?"

Tyki and the other man spluttered out nonsensical words, both obviously stunned at your words.

"Wait, nevermind. That's the Earl I'm thinking of. You're his little 'Tyki-pon', after all."

Again did the two blush deeply, both arguing that they were heterosexual. You rolled your eyes. In all honesty, you didn't care about their sexual orientation. Getting under their skin, though? Yeah, that was fun.

"At least I'm not Leverrier's fucklette," Tyki said, nudging the tip of your shoe with his. "Such a rigid man...you like being bossed around, (y/n)?"

"And if I do?" you said, shooting him a dirty look while giving him a once-over.

Tyki nodded towards his companion. "Adam here likes to give commands. I wouldn't mind ordering you around a bit either."

You bit the inside of your cheek, tugging at it a bit as you considered his words. Obviously you were growing desperate if your drunken ass was trying to get into Leverrier's pants. Tyki, despite being a Noah and thus your enemy, wasn't bad looking. His friend here was quite the looker as well. Shrugging in a noncommital way, you again turned your attention to the window. An expression of confusion enveloped your face when a set of hands reached past you closing the curtains. You turned in time to see Tyki doing likewise to the other window.

"Get on the floor," a gruff voice said by your ear. Holy fuck did this man have a voice that made you wet. Your stomach doing a flip while your mind was in a flurry of mixed feelings, you shifted so that you were on your knees on the floor. Immediately you felt Adam's hand entangle itself in your hair, yanking your head back so that your neck was exposed. Tyki's finger trailed along your throat momentarily. You shuddered, feeling absolutely defenseless at the hands of your enemy. "Take off your clothes--slowly."

You pressed your lips tightly together. All the same, you started to undo the buttons on your uniform shirt. Soon your bra was exposed, and still you shrugged out of the material. You set your shirt off to the side, next tackling the task of removing your bottoms. You could feel two sets of eyes hungrily roaming over your body, which was clad in nothing more than your shoes and undergarments. Just as you were getting ready to strip yourself of those, Adam commanded you to stop.

"Sit on my lap and place both of your legs on either side of me--but make sure you're facing Tyki," he said, his voice husky. Biting your bottom lip, you slid your rear onto his lap. Your lips formed an 'o' when you felt the rather large bulge in his pants. You were kneeling on the seat, your cunt against his clothed erection. "Keep your pussy there, and I want you to stretch out and undo the front of Tyki's pants--with your teeth."

Your eyebrows shot up towards your hairline. You could feel yourself growing wet. Man, were all the people associated with the Noah family kinky? Not that you could complain. You leaned forward, carefully ensuring that your cunt stayed in contact with the man's erection as you stretched out. Tyki shifted to edge of the seat, allowing you an easier time of the task. You bit at the button on the front of his pants, working your tongue against it and pushing it through the hole. Tyki was petting your head as you completed this task. Your face was red. Adam's hand was rubbing your rear affectionately. Just as you were tugging down Tyki's zipper with your teeth, you hissed, feeling your tongue jabbed by the zipper when you jerked forward; Adam had slapped your ass with his hand none-too-gently. At the same time, you found yourself moaning. The action had resulted in your clit rubbing deliciously against his dick.

You had your hands on either of Tyki's legs. Pressing upwards, you backed away as the Noah of Pleasure withdrew his erection from the confines of his trousers. You closed your eyes, holding back a moan when you felt Adam's knuckles brushing against you. He undid the front of his own pants, tugging at you when only his boxers remained. Upon Adam's command, you leaned forward, engulfing Tyki's length in your mouth. You held yourself up with your elbows, using both hands to pleasure the Noah. One stroked the inches that were not in your mouth while the other played with his sac.

All the while, you started to roll your hips against Adam's. He bucked up against you. The way the head of his erection brushed up against your clit had you moaning around your mouthful. Adam used one hand to slap your rear again. The other was occupied with shoving down his boxers and tugging your panties so that they were off to the side. Feeling his flesh against yours made you all the more wet. You could feel your juices dripping against him. Tyki had one hand in your hair, urging you to take in more of his length. The other was stroking along your spine.

Adam positioned himself at your entrance, thrusting inside. You jerked your hips against him, relishing in the delightful feeling of the created friction. Pulling your mouth from Tyki's length, you cocked your head to the side, licking up and down the man's erection. Tyki moaned, purring out words in his mother tongue while pinching at one of your nipples. He rolled the bud between finger and thumb, causing your toes to curl.

"You're going to let him cum all over your face, you hear?" Adam said as he fucked you. You knit your brow at the command. "Hmm?" His hips stilled. Groaning, you rocked yours back and forth, only to whimper when his nails dug into you as he used his fingers to stop your movements. "Did I make myself clear?"

"Y-yes, Adam."

"Good. Now, what is it you're going to do?"

"I'm going to...let him...cum on my face."

"Good girl~" His purr had you shuddering in ecstasy. He released your hips, his hands dropping to your thighs, which he tugged at. Spreading your legs further, the man quickly found the right angle at which to stroke your g-spot. You gasped, your eyelids fluttering as you resumed placing kisses along Tyki's cock. Adam placed one hand between your body and his, pressing four fingers against your clit firmly. The stimulation had a pleasant pressure building within you. Eager for your coming release, you jerked Tyki off harder and faster. Your tongue licked along his length, then your head bobbed up and down as you took him into your mouth. When Tyki moaned out to you that he was close, you again pulled your mouth off of him. You pumped his dick, closing your eyes in time to avoid getting his semen in them.

"Oh!" You bit your bottom lip, whimpering. Adam had increased the pressure against your clit, rubbing faster and faster while his hips beat noisily against yours. You bounched up and down on his length, screaming loudly in pleasure as you were brought to orgasm.

Adam chuckled, thrusting into you a few more times before he withdrew. He came all over your stomach, some of his seed getting on the undersides of your breasts. "You're such a good girl, (y/n)," he purred, pushing you so that you fell onto the ground. You sighed. "Lay one your back and fuck yourself for me, hun."

"Oh, fuck, yes!" you heard Tyki moan out.

Your stomach swirled at that. Hearing the heavy breathing coming from both men was already getting you back in the mood. The fact that they were eager to watch you masturbate? Yeah, you were pretty wet at that. Lying down, you spread your legs while you began to knead your breasts with both hands. One hand left your chest, trailing up and down along your side. You pinched your nipple, tugging it, and then rubbed your breast tenderly. At the same time, you slipped three fingers between your folds. You brought the juices leaking from your vagina towards your clit, rubbing circles on it. Bucking your hips in time with the movements of your fingers, you found yourself starting to pant.

Tyki knelt by your head, his hand moving to reach inside you. Your eyes flew open and were filled with fear. You watched the man in horror. He had the umistakable Noah grin, the one you and your comrades had once dubbed his 'rape face'. It was as though you had a bubble of air traveling through your body. He was not gripping anything, just--oh!

"Ooooh...fffffuckkkkk!" You threw your head back. His had was stroking something inside of you that nearly had you screaming in pleasure. Tyki chuckled, his fingers quickening their pace just as yours did the same.

The man removed his hand, much to your disappointment. He flipped you onto your stomach, causing you to release an 'oomph'. You removed your fingers from yourself. Tyki scooped you up by slipping his arms under your knees. He brought you onto his lap in that manner. You threw your head back, mouth agape as he lowered you onto his cock. The Noah of Pleasure lifted you then lowered you again. You moaned, feeling his dick thrusting in and out of you.

Adam sank down onto his knees in front of you. The man nuzzled your neck, nipping, as he pinched both of your nipples and started tugging. You placed your hands on his shoulders. Tyki quickened his pace just as Adam shifted his hips forward. You trembled, knowing Tyki was using his ability to choose when you felt Adam's cock slip inside of you as well. You whimpered at the strange sensation. The tip of Tyki's cock pressed towards one side of your walls while Adam's pressed against the opposite. They stroked you from the inside. Tyki kept his grip under your legs, forcing your hips up and down, while Adam paid special attention to your chest.

"Uh! Oh. Fuck yes. Mmm." They both rolled their hips into yours, rocking back and forth as you screamed out in orgasm.

"Fuck, (y/n)," Tyki groaned as he came inside of you. Adam grunted out his release, his mouth slamming atop yours, his tongue thrusting within. You moaned, resting your head against Tyki's shoulder as both men withdrew from you. Tyki chuckled while he retrieved a handkerchief and began to wipe off your face. He cleaned the semen off of your entire body quickly, no doubt using his ability to do so. "That was fun, huh?"

"Just shut up," you said, grabbing your clothes and quickly dressing. Adam adjusted himself while Tyki muttered out slight grievances over your cruel treatment of him. He then fixed his clothing as well. The two men were seated just as you were buttoning up your uniform top. "This doesn't leave the carriage."

"That an order, babe?" Tyki asked, rubbing your thigh. You cocked your head to the side, staring at him for a moment. "Because I was totally thinking...we have this truce for three more days, right?"

"No one gets to know about it."

"That's fine," both men said in unison. "We can take turn giving orders to one another, eh?" Tyki waggled his eyebrows as he spoke. You found yourself smiling despite yourself.

[limerental]

My first Geraskefer Wolfbarge bingo @geraskeferbingo is my 69th fic posted on ao3 and thus harkens back to my very first fic posted on ao3 back in 2017, the fic I made my ao3 to post.... a loki omo/piss fic. Therefore, this fic contains similar.... thematic elements. There's pee.

for waters shall burst forth

pairing: Yennefer/Jaskier

rating: E

content warning for omorashi (desperation to pee and wetting) featuring the usual bodily fluids, plus a handjob and inappropriate arousal.

read below or on ao3

"Right. So," said Jaskier, wiggling more earnestly in the cramped space. "This isn't wholly my fault."

"You wandered off to relieve yourself despite strict instructions not to, activated a mechanism that opened a trapdoor, and confined you and I together in uncomfortably close quarters in a cell lined with dimeritium," said Yennefer. "By what metric is this not your fault?"

It had been Yennefer's hope that Geralt's bard would be left behind while she and the Witcher infiltrated the abandoned, wraith-infested stronghold once occupied by a powerful mage of ill repute. No such luck. The colorful irritation of a man had tagged along, griping about the stench and the dark and the mold spores he was surely inhaling all the while, and before Yennefer knew it, they were trapped together in a narrow space with nothing but blank stone wall at their backs. No doubt there was another mechanism to open the trap somewhere, and Geralt had called out that he would find it, leaving leaving alone.

"And," said Jaskier with increasing plaintiveness, "I still really have to pee."

"You're insufferable," said Yennefer. 

"No, I don't feel that you understand the ah-- gravity of the situation," said Jaskier. "Or rather that gravity is acting rather urgently on my--"

"That's enough of that."

"See, welll, that's the thing. Soon er-- I'm afraid that sooner rather than later, nothing will be enough to-- um." The little bastard squirmed in exaggerated discomfort.

"Just hold it, bard. Are you an infant?"

"I'm a very well-hydrated individual! I'm trying. " Whined Jaskier. "Trust me, I would really rather literally be doing anything else in the entire universe than… well than.."

"Than wetting yourself."

"In front of Yennefer of Vengerberg of all people," he squeaked. "No offense."

"Offense taken."

"I mean you're so--" He gestured. "And I'm--" Another gesture. 

"Weren't you mant to be a man of words?"

"I'm a little distracted! Oh, but it hurts."

To her horror, tears began to escape from.the corners of his eyes. He gritted his teeth as they spilled down his bright-red cheeks and wobbled at his jaw. 

He was terrified, she realized. The narrow chamber they were trapped in suppressed her ability to read his mind, but the bard's frayed mental state appeared clearly on his face and the lines of his body. Terrified and deeply humiliated.

And truly about to wet himself.

In close quarters.

He squirmed, flushed pink and whimpering, and something about the sight was more pleasing than expected. Yennefer would never say anything approaching such a thing out loud but he wasn't horrible to look at as far as men went. It wasn't a hardship to watch him. And she had always taken more than the usual interest in the sight of men squirming before her, usually in more pleasant and consensual circumstances.

If she had full access to her command of Chaos, she may have considered any number of remedies to his situation. She could vanish his waters elsewhere or transfigure the bladder walls to expand more and thus alleviate the pressure. And if she was feeling particularly vindictive and cross with the bard for trapping them like this, she could not bother to relieve said pressure but command his body not to release except at her word. 

Though the latter idea sent a small thrill of arousal through her, Yennefer was not so cruel, and even so, it did not matter. She was helpless to do anything but wait for Geralt to find a way to free them. 

Yennefer did not prefer feeling helpless.

As a sorceress and a woman, base bodily functions did not hold much influence over her life. She had never understand the male desire to discuss bowel movements at length or engage in literal pissing contests. One did not live as long as she did and move in the circles that she did without encountering certain erotic proclivities surrounding bodily liquids, but she had never had any interest in sex involving more fluids than the usual, often of the mind that there should be less. 

Jaskier whimpered, interrupting her thoughts. She had no way of knowing how much time had passed or how much more would pass before they could be freed.

Yennefer felt a pang of sympathy. This was not simple inconvenience. The man was clearly in pain.

Droplets of sweat appeared on his creased brow and the meat of his palms dug into his thighs, hands opening and closing uselessly. She knew he must be resisting the urge to grab at himself like a child in front of her. Some part of Yennefer wanted to tell him that he could, that she did not mind, but another part knew it was a matter of his pride. Another, more sordid and previously unexamined part found herself darkly fascinated. Would he truly lose control and wet himself before her? It had been a very very long time ago that the thought of needing to urinate badly had last occupied her thoughts. Normally, she handled her bodies needs with magic at the slightest urge.

Seeing him struggle in increasing distress, she found herself newly grateful for forgoing that particular aspect of humanity

And that was the crux of it.

Jaskier was human. Constrained to the limits of his own body. Bound by bodily discomforts and pain and inconveniences. Worst of all, Yennefer was ordinarily above awareness of such things and now the little idiot was forcing her to confront their reality with increasing urgency.

She startled when Jaskier whined low in his throat, an involuntary noise that he promptly went pink over. He clearly was attempting to limit the shift of his hips, rubbing his palms with firmness down the length of both thighs as though that could possibly offer any relief.

"Oh, quit being noble," said Yennefer. "Will holding yourself help?"

"Holding my-- n-no!"

"No, it won't or no you're too stupid to do it?"

"I'm not going to… debase myself in front ot--"

"Oh please," said Yennefer with a roll of her eyes and pressed her hand between his legs. Another whine escaped him, and he pressed himself flat back against the stone wall of the trap. His hips shifted miserably. His penis was soft beneath her palm and the fabric of his pants, small and vulnerable. This close she could feel his body shaking.

She could not say by his whimpering and trembling whether it helped or made things worse, so she shifted her grip to more firmly encompass him, unsure how tight was too tight. Despite her reputation, she did not often put men's genitals in a stranglehold.

"Just… just like old times," Jaskier managed to squeak, and Yennefer blinked at him. "You ah--" he gestured at her hand cupping his junk "--in Rinde."

"Oh," said Yennefer, remembering. "I don't remember."

"You know, it helps if-- Well its harder to... to piss if-- if one is--" he floundered, staring dumbly where she pressed her hand against the front of his pants. Yennefer sighed.

"If you have an erection, you mean."

"Yes."

"Are you requesting that I service you with my hands?"

"N-no, I would never ask such a--" He winced and seemed to be enduring an increase in pain, his hands tightening to fists at his sides. "Yes! Yes. That's what I'm asking you. Please, Yennefer, I know you completely loathe me, but can you--"

"What's in it for me?" Yennefer asked, eyebrow cocked.

The pink flush of his cheeks and wobble of his chin, the little pants and whines he could not hold back, the shivering tension of his lean body. Control over his body's urges, holding all of him in the palm of her hand. All of it warmed her with guilty arousal. There was plenty in it for her, though the pitiful man could not be allowed to know it.

"Um, isn't it motivation enough that I don't… you know… on your hand?"

She considered this. 

"Fine."

"It might… take some effort frankly. You are very scary. Defense mechanism."

"Don't lie," says Yennefer, adjusting her hold. Already, she can feel the slight pulses of his body attempting to get hard. "That wasn't an issue in Rinde."

"You said you didn't remember."

"Mmmmhmmm."

Yennefer had not attempted something as quaint as pleasuring a man with her hands in many years. She remembered engaging in such things with Istredd. Her small glow of pride the first time he had shuddered and spent at the touch of her hand alone.

Nodding in acquiescence to the task at hand, Yennefer began to undo his laces with her free hand. To her great alarm, the idiot began to squirm more fiercely, the urge seeming to increase in a conditioned response to the imminent release signaled by the opening of his trousers. 

"Oh, Yen don't-- oh. Help."

A small bloom of wetness appeared on the light blue fabric.

Yennefer quickly made work of his lacings and shoved her hand inside his brains, gripping the bare skin in a pinching hold that felt far too merciless but seemed to offer immediate relief as Jaskier groaned. The sensitive skin beneath her fingers felt velvety soft and only a little damp.

On impulse, she swiped her thumb along the flared round of the head, and Jaskier shuddered through his whole body.

 It was a queer thing to feel the twitch and swell of the organ as his softness abated, the rabbiting heartbeat where her fingers held. She did not shift the pressure of her hold, but it grew tighter all the same as he hardened, until she was certain he must be in pain, the solid firmness of his growing erection flexing beneath the curl of her unyielding fingers.

"Does that hurt?" She asked, truly curious.

"No," said Jaskier. " Yes "

He seemed not to be able to help but buck into the tightness of her hand, now seeking pleasure as much as control. Experimentally, she lightened her grip and teased her fingers along the head of his cock, and he cried out and curled down, his forehead along against her shoulder. He breathed unsteadily in her ear.

"Oh quiet, you can hold it."

"I can't, Yennefer. I can't. I can't."

A warm trickle of wetness ran down the back of her hand. She looked down to see that a single dark streak had appeared on his powder blue shirt.

"Ah," said Yennefer and firmed her grip once more, moving in broad strokes. But that small leak seemed to have worsened the pain and effort considerably, Jaskier silent but for his ragged breaths as he curled against her. The occasional whimper and bodily clench was not quite enough to hold back fine droplets of escaping fluid. Not a flood, certainly, but enough for Yennefer to understand the desperation of the situation. The inevitability.

"Yennefer, I'm going to-- I have to--"

"Don't, you little idiot," she said, surprised by the breathless pant of her own voice. "I'll kill you if I do all of this and you still piddle on my shoes."

His orgasm seemed to catch him off guard, grunting as he spilled across her fist and his own shirt. 

"Idiot," said Yennefer. In the immediate aftermath, he groaned aloud as his softening erection but his other need to the forefront. His hands leapt to join hers at his crotch. 

"No, no, no," he whined in increasing panic, clenching his fists.

"Hands off," said Yennefer. "You'll hurt yourself."

"Yen-- since when do you-- care about--" He lost the thread of his thoughts as a longer leak of piss wet their hands. He managed to stop the flow but only just. She knew it was only a matter of moments.

"I don't," she said crossly. 

"Yen--, I-- I can't--" He quivered against her with withheld tears and bodily restraint.

"That's alright," she said, one hand soothing down the plane of his back. "It's ok."

Her words seemed to be all the permission his body needed to release in earnest, the sound of rushing liquid loud in the confined space. Yennefer dropped her hand to spare herself any more indignity and politely patted the bard's shoulder as she held herself away. Yennefer's heartbeat pounded in her ears, and she could not deny the heat of arousal between her legs.

Jaskier's body trembled, and he let out shallow groans of relief against her shoulder as he continued to wet himself. It seemed to go on and on until at last petering out, leaving the two of them in an uncomfortable silence in a trap that reeked of piss. 

The silence broke suddenly with a grind of gears and stone as the back wall of the trap fell away, dropping Jaskier backwards into an open chamber. Geralt looked down at him, grimacing.

"Again, Jaskier?" Geralt grunted, eyeing his wet clothes. 

Jaskier groaned on the ground, making no effort to stand.

"I am a very well-hydrated man, Witcher!" 

"Yeah, yeah, let's get out of here before something nasty is attracted to the stench."

Yennefer strode out of the trap with as much dignity as one could muster when she too reeked faintly of piss, endeavoring to put the whole miserable affair behind her. Unfortunately, as she watched Jaskier scramble to his feet, remembering his urgent cries beneath her hand, something told her that nothing would be that simple.

[silence-burns]

Please Hate Me //part 38

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Based on: “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine​ Who would have thought that babysitting a god could be so much fun?

Genre: slow-burn, enemies to lovers

The pale cheek was rubbery and cold under your finger. You poked it again. "Are you sure he's dead?" 

Loki looked at the severed, and a little chewed, bottom half of the ambassador. "Pretty much."

The body had been laid out on top of a desk, with all the books and documents previously occupying it put on the ground. It didn't really matter in the ways of making things messy, because the suite belonging to the recently deceased ambassador was already a dusty, chaotic mess. The room was dark and narrow and made even smaller by the bookshelves lined along one wall, stealing even more space. The carpet used to be gold and thick, but now it looked just worn and tired. 

"Do we even have a plan? Like, anything in particular to look out for?" 

Loki scratched his chin, looking around next to you. "Plans are for the weak of heart. We've got something better, love—a suspicion. Now we only have to find the evidence for or against it." 

You looked at the shelves filled with old tomes to the point of almost breaking the wood. And then at the loose papers piled carelessly along two of the walls and also in the bedroom. The notes were haphazardly scribbled and left in places where a thought must've struck the man, and then left forgotten or lost. Ink was spilled on the less fortunate ones. 

"...right."

You couldn't say you were happy about it, but there was little to do about it. Whatever the ambassador was working on before he died could shed some light on his death. Now you only had to find it. 

With a deep sigh, you braced yourself and got to work. 

It soon turned out you didn’t understand a single word of it. 

"You said your spell would work and I would understand everything." You focused really hard on the wall of text in a language you'd never seen before. "And it works fine when I'm talking to the lords here, but not on this." 

Loki leaned over your shoulder to peek a glance at the text. "I have no idea. Maybe it works differently on humans? Or maybe you're just a particularly weird individual of your species." 

"Thanks." 

"Welcome, love." 

With nothing you could read, your job there was crippled. Even when Loki assured you he didn't mind doing everything himself and that it wasn't your fault, there was still a sour feeling you couldn't quite shake off. 

"I'm going to see if I can find the kitchens and get us something edible." You decided to pass the time on something at least vaguely helpful. 

Loki looked up from the notes he'd gathered from the windowsill. He’d made himself comfortable in one of the cleaner parts of the room, although unfortunately it just happened to be near the corpse. "Be careful. And please, don't kill anyone without me." 

"I'd never," you promised with a wink and left. 

The castle was huge, but empty. At first, you put in on the murder that must've shaken the people living there, but the longer you looked around, it struck you as odd. Everything was clean, even if touched by time. There must be people taking care of it, but you couldn't find any. 

Or maybe they were avoiding the outsiders. Technically, you were an alien here. 

You walked the empty corridors, enjoying the silent breeze passing through the open panels. It was strange not to see any glass in the windows, but with the weather so mild, there probably wasn't any temperature drop to worry about anyway. 

There were shadows sneaking in the corners of your vision. They could be figments of your imagination and sense of wrongness of this place. They could be the things howling in the dark. 

No. Thinking about that probably wasn't the wisest idea. In a place where thoughts apparently could shape reality, thinking merry, happy thoughts seemed like a much more rational option if one planned to survive and not be eaten by their own fears embodied. You had such plans, and even if Loki was convinced that you had absolutely no connection to magic unless it hit you in the face, it was better to stay cautious. And happy. What a lovely day it was, after all, with the creeping light avoiding particular parts of your vision, and something definitely following you. How nice would it be to meet someone. Anyone. 

Your eyes wandered off into the gardens below, where the everlasting night was laying thick. A fountain shimmered in bluish speckles of water. And behind it, the night opened its eyes. 

You might've jumped a little. Just the tiniest bit. 

But there was no denying that, just for the briefest moment, your eyes met the Queen's, posed unnaturally still among the statues. 

…and people said wishful thinking wouldn't get you anywhere. 

You hopped over the railing, and onto the moss-covered ground. The guard you'd seen before was nowhere to be found. You stared around as hard as you could, trying to pierce the shadows and strange light. It took a moment to find what you were looking for. 

From up close, the stars overhead and the stars shimmering on her skin looked like mirror images. For a moment, the night sky felt within a hand's reach. 

Not one muscle betrayed the Queen had she noticed your arrival. Her eyes were dull and completely blank—to the point where you wondered if you hadn't imagined everything. 

You stood right next to her and still weren't decapitated, which was a comfort and a good sign. You bowed stiffly, even if she didn't see it. 

"Hi," you said quietly, looking for any sign of comprehension. "I'm one of the people who came here to explain the recent murder." 

Nothing. Just the vast expanse of the night enclosed in a fading body and crumbled into a vaguely humanoid shape. The Queen only had one horn intact, white as a bone, and sharp like the crescent moon—the only one to ever be seen on the edge of the universe. 

"I wondered if you knew anything about it," you tried again. "We're doing well so far, and I'm sure we'll find the murderer eventually, so don't worry about that, but… We'd still appreciate any and all help." 

Birds chirped somewhere in the trees. Shimmering pollen flew on the light breeze squeezing through the thicket. The night turned her eyes toward you. 

It'd been a while since you cowered under the sheets, afraid of the darkness. It was a common fear among children, and one that only a few grew out of. Those eyes reminded you of those sleepless nights. 

Not a word left the bloodless lips. Not a muscle twitched. The edges of the woman blurred into the night. 

"...right. Sorry to interrupt you, Your Majesty." 

You backed away a few steps before turning your back to her. A shiver ran down your spine. If that was what fading was, you preferred death. 

*

Loki enjoyed reading, he really did. Even as a child, he'd often been found buried among the old tomes in the palace's library, or smuggling particularly interesting ones to his rooms. There was something in the way of the written word that captured his attention way better than whatever training he was forced to participate in for the sake of Odin's misplaced ambition. There was a certain rush in learning facts previously unknown and in understanding the world or the forces in it better. 

Loki felt absolutely none of that while going through the ambassador's notes. 

Most of them were full of incomprehensible babble of half-finished ideas or references that led nowhere without the books they'd been taken from. Some seemed to be copied pages, which led Loki to the conclusion that the books were not to be taken off the library grounds. 

There were a lot of dates and numbers that made little sense to him, so he put them down on the pile of things he deemed irrelevant to the investigation. The pile was growing and now consisted of several piles, forming the majority of the room's contents. 

The doors opened. Loki was relieved to see you; the dagger disappeared back up his sleeve. 

"That took you awhile," he noticed, throwing the crumbled papers to the right, onto the pile of nonsense. "I was getting worried." 

"I'm good. I got you some apples." 

The apples were a dusted orange, but tasted sweet enough to justify the unusual color. Loki leaned back in his chair and let you settle on his lap. The feeling of your body pressed into his made you share the warmth and comfort, and made some of the stress building up since morning fade away. 

"I met the Queen," you said around a mouth full of apple, and the other hand buried in Loki's hair. "She seemed nice enough. The creepiness definitely runs in the family, though." 

Some of the stress came back. "Did she… say anything?"

"Nope. I don't think she’s… aware of things. Which is a shame, because I seriously hoped she could help us." 

Loki brushed your back in wide, soothing strokes. "There is a chance she'll regain her senses one day, just for long enough to answer some questions. Fading is a complicated process." 

"You know a lot about it." 

Loki's eyes dropped to the few remaining apples. "Gods fade too sometimes." 

"Will you? One day?" 

"I am a Frost Giant, love, even if I was raised on Asgard. I'm not sure how much that complicates my case, and there is no one to ask about it anymore." 

"I'm sorry." 

Loki closed his eyes and breathed in your scent as he felt you kiss his temple, gently and with enough unfiltered love to make his heart throb almost painfully. He was lucky, even despite the mess politics brought onto him. He was luckier than he ever thought he'd be. And luckier than he thought he deserved. 

"Did you find anything interesting?" you asked with a face burrowed into the crook of his neck. 

"There was quite a lot of nonsense, but the rest highlights the ambassador's interest in the wars and mass deaths that always follow them." 

You froze. The corpse laid on the desk next to you no longer felt like something you could forget about. "...what an interesting guy. "

"Most definitely, but it's too early to judge just yet. I made a list of the books he mentioned most often. I think it'd be worth our time to pay a visit to the library to check them out and maybe ask a few questions to the people working there. They should know something about him and the dead assistant."

"We could get some more apples on our way," you offered, standing up. Loki already missed you. 

"Sure, why not. It's not like you'd take the fruit of the sacred trees from the very clearly separated part of the gardens, right?" 

"...of course. I'd never overlook that." 

You did overlook that in the end, and Loki just happened to overlook it too. Overlooking things was always more fun in good company. 

The gardens were a beautiful, lush place, bursting with colors and leaves that danced on the wind instead of falling. Some of the branches were covered in flowers so tiny they looked like ants, traveling up and down the bark. Birds too shy to leave the shadows chirped and sung. 

It was a strange change to witness, especially having in mind what the gardens were like in the morning. Whatever put them in a good mood had clearly done a good job. It made the winding paths easier to follow, and the water passing through the fountain shimmer like starlight. 

Loki shrugged when you voiced your thoughts. 

"In your world, the weather changes just as rapidly," he said, looking at his mirrored image. "Here, it's the very essence of the Edge that's capable of changing." 

It was poetic, like most things on the Edge. And just like them, the forest suddenly decided to hate you. 

First, the birds vanished, their voices cut short. 

Then, something else moved between the curled, twisted trees. Loki noticed too, and handed you one of his knives. The knives had a habit of appearing around him in just the right moments, and you loved them for it. 

And finally, the Edge decided how to make your lives difficult this time. 

The monstrosity that circled the fountain was a terror of thin legs and bulky torso, armed with too many teeth.

"Is it a spider?" you asked in a voice too high because of your heart leaping into your throat. 

"It could be, if someone really hated spiders," Loki said, but there was a smile on his face. "And it might present a problem, if we were still on Earth—but now I'm free and ready to deal with this the old-fashioned way." 

You blinked when golden light enveloped him in a flash. The green armor poured onto his body while magic danced around his fingers. The golden helmet you'd seen only once in the battle of New York, now returned in its full glory. 

You cheered as Loki stepped out, swinging a spear with a nonchalant ease only available to children forced to learn something for years against their will. 

"Kick its ass, babe!" 

Loki winked. 

The creature didn't want to have its ass kicked. It charged on its eight legs reaching far and fast. Loki striked, gutting its belly and cutting two legs off. It should've died, but it didn't. The cuts should've killed it, but they healed. 

Loki's magic should've blocked the furious mass hurtling itself at him. It didn't. 

The spell flashed a blinding yellow before it cracked like glass and shattered. The legs that were no longer cut, they hit and didn't miss. 

A gold-and-green body flew through the air with a very surprised face. The fountain crashed in a rain of water and marble, covering everything in a thin layer of dust and a thick one of mud quickly forming under your feet. 

"...Loki?"

Loki didn't answer, half buried under the stone. 

The spider turned its too big head to you. Its legs were black and covered in thick stubble. 

"Shit," you whispered. 

The spider agreed. 

You ran. 

[drnikolatesla]

Nikola Tesla’s Thoughts On the Soul and Life After Death

Tesla’s reasoning are the thoughts of a practical man of science, who has not only conducted experiments, but deep mental consideration to the question of immortality. Tesla was destined by his parents at an early age to enter the clergy, but the inventive genius, inherited from his mother, took him into the realm of science. Most of his life was spent in deep meditation to the question of the soul and life after death. His conclusions on the subjects will most definitely not run parallel with most others, but are indeed food for thought.

Here are 6 quotes made by Nikola Tesla:

1. When a child is born, its sense organs are brought in contact with the outer world. The waves of sound, heat and light beat against its feeble body, its sensitive nerve fibres quiver, the muscles contract and relax in obedience—a gasp, a breath, and in this act a wonderful little engine, of structure, is hitched to the wheelwork or the universe. Left to itself the engine stops; it has no power to draw energy from Nature’s inexhaustible store.

“The little engine moves and works, changes size and shape, performs more and more varied operations, becomes sensitive to more and more different influences, and now there begins to manifest itself in it a mysterious force. It becomes capable of responding to stimuli of a more subtle nature and of drawing, for its own use, energy from the environment. Gradually the engine has been transformed into a being possessed of intelligence, which perceives, discerns, does like others of its kind.

“The experiences multiply, the knowledge increases, the discernment becomes keener, the human being responding to the faintest influences, is awakened to the consciousness of Nature and its grandeur, and in its breast there is kindled a desire to imitate Nature, to create, to work itself the wonders it perceives.

”But the exercise of this power does not satisfy the mind, which rises to still higher, undefinable perceptions, not of this world, and inspired by them the artist, the inventor and the man of science give expression to the longing of the soul.

(“Shows How Men Of The Future May Become As Gods.” NEW YORK HERALD . December 30, 1900.)

2. “That an aggregation of impressions, thoughts and feelings having no materiality, and vaguely designated as mind, or soul, should be substance susceptible of quantitative determination is altogether too absurd for discussion.

“The change however, which takes place in the human body during its awful transition from life to death is a great subject for scientific investigation which may possibly lead to important results. If the experiments of Massachusetts physicians are to be at all seriously considered, it is only in this respect.

“I could not help being struck by the fact that men of a scientific caliber sufficiently large to undertake measurements requiring the greatest delicacy and skill, should not be correspondingly resourceful in devising the apparatus for the purpose. A scale responding to the weight of one tenth of an ounce is not a fit instrument for weighing the human soul.

“It is not less astonishing that such trained observer should have overlooked a trivial cause responsible for the seeming lightening of the body. I use this term designedly, for accepting the exudations which have been taken into consideration there was no loss of substance in death.

“When the rigor mortis sets in there is an increase of volume for various reasons. Just to give a rough idea I shall assume that the living body, weighing a hundred and sixty pounds, had filled a space of three cubic feet. The air in a sick room may weigh about fourteen ounces per cubic feet. Half an ounce of the air would consequently occupy a space of sixty-two cubic inches, and that would be only one percent of the original volume of three cubic feet. As will readily be seen, a very slight general deformation of the body, scarcely perceptible, is adequate to explain the puzzling observation. The sudden tipping of the scale demonstrates nothing except the coarseness of the instrument. Had the balance been very sensitive, owing to the resistance of the air, the platform would have ascended slowly.“

–Nikola Tesla

(“Scientists Doubt The Human Soul Was Weighed.” New York World, March 17, 1907.)

3. “Since time immemorial the most profound thinkers have tried to lift the veil that hides the beyond. I have read thousands of volumes of literature and thought for years in the hope that I might get some kind of evidence to show that death is not the end. But all in vain. To me the universe is simply a marvelous mechanism, and the most complex forms of human life, as human beings, are nothing else but automatic engines, controlled by external influence. Through incessant observation I have so convinced myself of the truth of this that I cannot perform any act or even conceive a thought without locating at once the external stimulus that prompted it.

“A forceful argument in support of the existence of a creative agent is made of the law, order and harmony perceptible everywhere. But it must not be forgotten that Kant’s reasoning and conclusion in this respect are irrefutable. According to this philosopher, the conception of fitness has been created in the speculative mind of men, which thus admires a miracle wrought by itself.

“Granted a planetary system, it is absolutely inevitable that in the course of eons such organized beings as we are will evolve. The cooling of the hot masses results in a precipitation of water, and under the influence of the sun’s rays heliotropic action takes place and life is started. Through chemical and other agents and continuous adjustment complex mechanisms come into being, and these ultimately develop into structures of marvelous complexity with capacities of response to the faintest stimulae from the environment.

“When we realize this as a fact we begin to grasp the great idea of Buddha–that self is an illusion. Indeed, we are nothing but waves in space and time which when dissolved exist no more.

“There is this to be said, however, that science without hope is not satisfactory, and unless one has some ideals he cannot achieve happiness. The religious is the most lofty ideal, and it seems that the great reformers who, ages ago, laid down rules of conduct were right in their conclusions that a peaceful existence and a continued onward march of man on this globe is essentially dependent on the conception of a God.

“I have read Mr. Burbank’s statement in which he expresses an opinion shared by most natural philosophers, but one must not be too rash in contradicting the conclusions reached by countless men of genius who spent their lives in endeavors to ascertain the destiny of the human race. A single individual, however well informed and capable, may be partially unaware of if not utterly blind to evidences of a certain kind, which might be quite sufficient for others. This is the reason why I am distrustful of my own findings. Possibly Mr. Ford, who I understand is accepting old traditions, may be closer to the truth than such men as Burbank and myself.

“I have searched during many years for some process or means to test the possibility of future existence by scientific experiment, and I have devised one, which, to my great disappointment, has failed. But perhaps some more skillful experimenter might succeed if I suggest to him the course. To put it briefly, it is this:

“Our bodies are composed of molecules of various elements, harmoniously united. Do these molecules retain any after-effect when the body is dissolved? To ascertain this take, say, two molecules of hydrogen from the body of an individual and also one molecule of oxygen. Furthermore, provide another molecule of oxygen taken from some other body. Now place the two molecules of hydrogen so they can combine with the oxygen, and if they prefer that molecule of oxygen with which they were previously united, then reincarnation is proved. For, though it may take ages and ages, ultimately the molecules which constituted that body will get together again, just as in a vast city individuals from a distant land finally meet and establish close contact.”

(“After Death — WHAT?” Lima News, Lima, Ohio, March 14, 1926.)

4. “We are all automatons obeying external influences. We are entirely under the control of agents that beat on our senses from all directions of the outside world. Being merely receivers from the outside, it is a very important question how good the receivers are—some are sensitive and receive accurately. Others are sluggish and their reception is blurred. The individual who is a better machine has so much greater chance of achieving success and happiness. An individual who is an offender of law is a machine in which one or another organ has been deranged, so that the responses are no longer accurate.

“There is no chance in nature, although the modern theory of indeterminacy attempts to show scientifically that events are governed by chance. I positively deny that. The causes and effects, however complex, are intimately linked, and the result of all inferences must be inevitably fixed as by a mathematical formula.

“I also absolutely deny the existence of individuality. It took me not less than twenty years to develop a faculty to trace every thought or act of mine to an external influence. We are just waves in time and space, changing continuously, and the illusion of individuality is produced through the concatenation of the rapidly succeeding phases of existence. What we define as likeness is merely the result of the symmetrical arrangement of molecules which compose our body.”

“How about the soul - the spirit?” he was asked.

“Ah,” he exclaimed, “but there is no soul or spirit. These are merely expressions of the functions of the body. These life functions cease with death and so do soul and spirit.

“What humanity needs is ideals. Idealism is the force that will free us from material fetters.”

(“Tesla Seeks to Send Power to Planets.” New York Times, July 11, 1931.)

5. “One of the most fundamental and also one of the saddest facts in human life is well brought out in a French proverb which, freely translated, means:

‘If Youth had the knowledge and Old Age the strength of doing.’

Our condition of body and mind in old age is merely a certificate of how we have spent our youth. The secret of my own strength and vitality today is that in my youth I led what you might call a virtuous life.

"I have never dissipated. When I was a young man I understood well the significance of that old French proverb, although I doubt that I had even heard it then. But I seemed to have a clear understanding while still young that I must control my passions and appetites if I wanted to make some of my dreams come true.

(“Tremendous New Power Soon To Be Released.” By Carol Bird. Charleston Daily Mail, Charleston, West Virginia, Page 40. September 10, 1933.)

6. “To me, the universe is simply a great machine which never came into being and never will end. The human being is no exception to the natural order. Man, like the universe, is a machine. Nothing enters our minds or determines our actions which is not directly or indirectly a response to stimuli beating upon our sense organs from without. Owing to the similarity of our construction and the sameness of our environment, we respond in like manner to similar stimuli, and from the concordance of our reactions, understanding is barn. In the course of ages, mechanisms of infinite complexity are developed, but what we call “soul ” or “spirit,” is nothing more than the sum of the functionings of the body. When this functioning ceases, the “soul” or the “spirit” ceases likewise.“

(“A Machine to End War.” Liberty Magazine, February 9, 1935.)

–Nikola Tesla

[strangebrews]

tea for two

Summary:  After nearly two hours of preparation, Alfie was finally ready. The table was set, the tea was brewed, and the poison watched at the end of the counter. That was Alfie’s source of entertainment. // Alfie engages in tea party Russian roulette that he himself organized. Tommy, eventually, reacts.

Notes: i had a tiny idea regarding alfie organizing lethal tea parties for funsies a while back, and it became this. also thank you to @sholomons + @those-peakyboys for reading bits of this as a sanity check <3

Warnings: Suicidal Ideation/Suicide Scare/Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms/ - those are the main ones, but if you think there should be more let me know. The rest of them can be found on the AO3 post. I promise this isn’t some devastating ending though, lmao, technically is supposed to be //romantic// in a twisted Tommy Shelby way.

On AO3

------------

Alfie indulged in the art of organizing tea parties later in life, once the crime became routine and uninspiring.

The idea came to him one afternoon, while thumbing through the day’s post. He was struck by a revelation, of sorts, “yeah, because when I went to pick up my cup, right,” he had described the moment to Tommy in detail, “I noticed that there, at the very bottom where the tea leaves floated—there was a message.” His eyes had narrowed, voice low, fingers motioning in the air trying to conjure up the image, “and you know what they were saying to me, those leaves, Tommy—they were saying Alfie, you have got to stop hanging around that Shelby—his witchcraft and madness are starting to rub off on you ” he’d cackled then, which meant the origins would remain unexplained. 

Alfie did, however, commit himself to the task. 

He decided the event would take place in his dining room, using the hand-carved table featured there. Tommy watched him prepare from afar the day of the first tea party. He did not endorse the fucking behavior, but he was curious—it was rare to see Solomons fuss over plate placements.

A frilly tablecloth was dug out from the back of a cupboard, and freshly picked flowers decorated the middle. Alfie used his best porcelain set—the one he claimed was the last heirloom still in his possession from the mother’s side of his family. That bit was a lie, he had admitted to Tommy one day. Instead, he had Ollie scavenge it from some shop window with a sock over his head and tears in his eyes—but that tale was far less interesting. And the foundational role of any host, Alfie knew, was to entertain his esteemed guests.

Tiny silver spoons—ones which nearly disappeared in Alfie’s hand—lay atop carefully folded napkins. He drew the shades, and arranged the biscuits, lips pursed in concentration. The scene looked quite pretty, actually. Meticulously organized—an unexpected detail coming from Alfie Solomons. 

And after nearly two hours of preparation, Alfie was finally ready. The table was set, the tea was brewed, and the poison watched at the end of the counter. 

That was Alfie’s source of entertainment. 

  +++

  His guests were an array of different people. Old friends, new enemies, long standing members of his payroll, a few of the fanciest individuals he knew—each person with some form of stain on their record, at some point having wronged him. Alfie was not entirely cruel. 

“It’ll be a shame,” he had said, “but everyone dies at some point, yeah?”

The trick about the poison was that it took a while to pollute the veins. Alfie had considered this detail as thoughtfully as he had the decorations—determined to avoid frothing mouths from ruining the appeal of his parties. The winners would appear fine until the next morning, so the poison was untraceable in both taste and source. 

For a while, at least. Though even if the pieces were eventually slotted together—who would be brave enough to accuse an aging man of serving tea?

“It just might be genius, Tommy.” Alfie had lifted the vial towards him, eyes glazed over with self-admiration. Going after him would look ridiculous, Alfie knew this. Tommy knew this, and he smiled besides himself. Perhaps it was.

And as any good host, Alfie partook in the activity himself—an equal player in the game. A few clear drops coated the bottom of a cup, the cups were mixed up, the location was forgotten.

The fact that Alfie had grown desensitized towards his own death was no shock—he and Tommy shared the same indifference. Though what Tommy struggled to understand was his sudden interest in openly pursuing it. 

Though, didn’t they do that already? Alfie had asked. Their years brimmed with pacts, vindictive partners, with mouthing off to men whose fingers trembled against triggers. They had never run in the opposite direction of death, rather alongside it—the place where their paths would converge had always been just along the horizon. Alfie’s behavior was nothing but a variation of that.

“More creative.” he had claimed—better than being killed by a gun or a knife, “Or by a blade sewn into a fucking hat. Imagine that.” he smirked. It was only funny because they were past killing each other now—Alfie had beaten Tommy to the initiative.

+++

  Of course, the cordial invitation had been extended to Tommy Shelby as well.

“And how have I wronged you?” Tommy had asked. Alfie laughed, promising it would be a clean cup, but Tommy refused regardless. The whole matter was much too dramatic for his taste.

He would stay the night of the tea party, though—was due for a fuck, anyway. 

-

In truth, Tommy had been staying the night more frequently. 

It was Alfie who had initially offered to move the location of their meetings . The official reason he’d cited was for more security, but Tommy had seen him holding his back in pain each time he’d stepped out of the office. 

Fucking in a bed, as opposed to on a desk, toed the line with an intimacy Tommy was cautious about crossing, but the suggestion was too enticing to refuse—aging had not been doing either of them any favors. And because it was Alfie who had made the proposal, Tommy still had room to cut himself free of any strings attached.

The routine had continued as usual at first—business, fuck, leave. Tommy would gather his clothes frantically afterwards, hopping out the door with only one sock on. He was terrified of the implications staying longer would have—the consequences it could bring.

Though that chaos eventually transitioned into a slower collection of his belongings—fatigue and the haze of his orgasm tethering him to the bed. He stayed for longer, counted the cracks in Alfie’s ceiling and the number of stripes on his sheets. These extra moments seemed progressively less threatening. 

“Are you truly that desperate to return to that lonely fucking castle of yours, mate?” The question came months later, while Tommy sat on the side of the bed, rubbing the stiffness from his legs. He was startled by the voice—Alfie tended to slip into a slumber nearly immediately after they’d pulled away from each other. 

Lonely castle. It sounded worse when phrased that way. A kingdom crafted at the expense of everyone around him. Pitiful.

Tommy had not entertained Alfie with an answer, but still chose to lay back down—comforted by the idea of a few more hours of sleep. He left the next day wordlessly, and sleeping over became routine. The castle would still be standing in the morning.

Yet that change didn’t mean anything, Tommy reasoned. Whether he permitted himself to stay or not, it was still just fucking —nothing more complicated than that. 

So perhaps it’d be a shame if Alfie finally won one of his rounds, Tommy thought the evening of that first tea party—his business would be missed. But he remained, on the whole, unbothered by it.

Everyone died at some point.

+++

  Each chair was occupied with an esteemed guest the first time. They were all impressed by the sudden burst of hospitality—thankful for Alfie’s unspoken forgiveness of their past transgressions against him. 

Assumption was quite lethal. 

Meaningless chatter swelled the air in the room, shrill laughter echoing off of the walls. Alfie floated from place to place, offering stories and more food, savoring each one of his sips.  He chuckled often, rolled his eyes on cue, and held his pinky up.

It was a performance, yet no one in attendance was aware they were a part of the show. 

He caught their attention in particular with a story from before the war. Something to do with a stray dog, an appalled mother and a wet carpet—certain elements of which were exaggerated. “Oh Alfie!” he’d felt a small pat on his shoulder, a gesture which in any other circumstances would have earned the person a cut on the cheek, but Alfie simply smiled and patted back. It could be you . 

Alfie found excitement in it all—an ironic strengthening of the energy which had been slowly draining from his body. 

It was nearly enough to forget about the cancer.

-

Cancer could have been considered a motive—it was the letter from the doctor speculating about his expiration date which had sparked the inspiration for the tea party business. Though Alfie didn’t like to dwell on that coincidence. Much rather preferred to keep the reason as Alfie’s sudden burst of twisted thrill-seeking . Not that anyone would know about the sickness, regardless—Thomas Shelby included. He fully intended to live out these days undisturbed by sympathy.

He came to bed that night with cheeks flushed and things to say. Granted, Alfie always had a mouth full of words, but they were stories this time—things he’d seen and heard. Tommy had propped himself up against the headrest, pulling on cigarette after cigarette, feigning disinterest. 

A cousin of the Sabini’s had brought Alfie a bottle of wine, he learned. There had been a bit of tea spilling on the carpet sometime in the middle, though it had occurred after a refill, Alfie reassured. Nearly everyone offered some comment about the design on the porcelain, sniffed the flowers, and claimed they had enjoyed themselves in the doorway.

“Silly little puppets, yeah—every last one.” Alfie had laughed and blown the candle on the nightstand out. It was nice, actually, being able to share this bit of secrecy with Tommy. An outlet, of sorts, and it helped that Alfie did not have to truly explain himself to him. 

It was the first night Tommy stayed which did not involve fucking.

+++

Tommy continued accepting the invitations to be an invisible guest. 

Unsurprisingly, one party had not been enough to satiate Alfie’s newfound appetite for this version of Russian roulette and finger sandwiches, so he kept organizing them. It tended to be the same crowd each time, with a few new faces here and there—replacements for any vacant seats. 

Alfie gradually grew fancier—a nicer tablecloth, more biscuits, a larger array of tea. He had different stories to tell, new rings to show off and even Ollie had grown quite fond of the flower picking aspect of his job, asking a few days in advance if he had any preferences. 

Alfie collapsed beside Tommy after the fifth party, exhausted and unwilling to relay the night’s events. It wasn’t necessarily healthy for his back, Tommy had mused—all those hours of wandering around the room, hunched over chairs—but his mouth stayed shut, and they fell asleep in silence. 

-

Even after nights when his insomnia had been generous, Tommy woke first. 

Alfie breathed beside him.

It was a relief, Tommy admitted—spared him the dramatics of having to drag Alfie out from between the sheets himself. He’d imagined that scenario once or twice while waiting on Alfie to stop his entertaining, considering what exactly he would do with Alfie’s body just—laying there. Notify the staff most likely, but he wasn’t quite sure what beyond that. Perhaps shake his hand, or pay his respects through a whispered congratulations , yet Alfie always managed to interrupt that train of thought before anything concrete was decided on. 

He was hesitant to leave the morning after the fifth night, oddly disappointed that Alfie had not shared any stories. It was an uncomfortable feeling, but he decided to wait until Alfie woke. There was time to spare, Tommy argued with himself, it was the weekend—as if that meant anything in this line of business. 

Idling in bed until the moment arrived was out of the question. Roaming his halls also seemed inappropriate—and risky, in case Ollie had let himself in. So Tommy settled on visiting the kitchen to eat. Attempt to, at least.

Preparing food provided only momentary relief from the fact that staying had been an absolutely idiotic idea. Tommy brewed some tea—for the irony, if anything else—and made toast. Some for him, some for Alfie, though he winced at the choice and threw Alfie’s portion in the bin. Too much.

He opened the morning paper. Squirmed in his chair. Checked the time. Returned to reading. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Alfie eventually joined him in the kitchen, sleep still settled on his limbs. His hair was sticking up in uneven tufts, beard flattened on the side he’d been lying on. Nothing indicated he was surprised that Tommy had remained in the house.

“So you’re still here then, eh?” Tommy said, eyes on the news, but desperate to fill the silence.

Alfie only ran a heavy palm across his face. “Yeah, still fucking here.”

+++

  The parties remained successful and Alfie’s enthusiasm persisted. Guests streamed in week after week—whether out of fear or curiousity was unclear. It was quite unusual to be in Alfie Solomon’s presence within an unthreatening environment, but they seemed to appreciate his change in character. 

And the tea was always delicious. 

It was Tommy who suffered the change in opinion, pacing the bedroom with a clenched jaw.  He had certain ideas—to make an appearance, peek through keyholes or press his ear to the door, to somehow interfere—but he cast them all aside.

Time alone had never been healthy for him. Funny, for a man who ensured his own abandonment.

-

 Nervous. The word finally rose above all of the other thoughts at one point and settled bitterly on his tongue. Tommy was nervous. 

“Aren’t you fucking bored of this yet, Alfie?” he asked as casually as possible, in between pulls of his cigarette, but Alfie had shook his head.

“I should have done this sooner.” he claimed, eyes dancing, and for some reason the sentence felt like a slap to the face.

Tommy did not fight back. 

+++

Alfie retired earlier than usual one night, reasoned it was due to a headache. Tommy bit down on his lip to prevent any visible reaction.

He slipped under the covers, hand searching for the band of Tommy’s pants —ar ousal had always reigned above pain for Alfie —but Tommy swatted it away, ignoring the slight tenting. “Not today, Alfie.”

Alfie grunted. It was not necessarily unusual for Tommy to refuse him, though Tommy’s face was flushed, teeth gnawing at the inner flesh of his cheek. There was still potential in the moment.

“But Tommy,” he whispered, sliding up against him, lips grazing Tommy’s neck and fingers playing at his hip. “I may be dead tomorrow.” and he placed a firm kiss to his Adam’s apple. It was only meant to be a teasing remark —nothing more than Alfie’s greedy attempt at extracting a fuck out of the other man—but the words wrapped themselves around Tommy’s throat.

Tommy snatched Alfie by the hair, tearing him away from his skin. Their eyes met, Alfie squirming besides himself under the cold stare. “You might be dead tomorrow.” Tommy repeated, nodding in agreement. Out of reach . 

And he kissed him.

Once. Twice. Grip slowly loosening, hips finally shifting into Alfie’s touch. His hand remained in the hair, the other one snaking around Alfie’s waist, clothes being peeled off feverishly. Alfie’s efforts proved successful.

They fucked that night to the brink of exhaustion, wrapped in the darkness, spent and gasping for air, and when Alfie pulled away, Tommy choked on a please echoing in his throat. 

It was a hollow plea—for something he was too terrified to admit.

+ ++

The following morning after he woke, Tommy lingered in bed.

Alfie snored facing him, rested on top of his left arm. Sleep softened him, Tommy noted—hid the pain behind his eyelids, smoothed the creases from his forehead. He reached out hesitantly to run the backs of his fingers across Alfie’s shoulder, along the shell of his ear, his jaw, tugging down the covers to find his thighs. It was a peaceful moment—rare and terminal—and Tommy was suddenly gripped by an urge to memorize it. Drink in every detail. 

Tommy took advantage of the safety unconsciousness had provided him and settled back down, shifting closer to Alfie’s body—close enough so that the tips of their noses were brushing against one another. He lay still, soaking in the warmth of Alfie’s exhales, and tried to align their breathing. 

The task proved to be more challenging than expected. Tommy stumbled over his own inhales, yet Alfie continued to be one breath ahead of him. Inhale. Exhale . Out of sync. And it was a silly effort, naive and trivial, but Tommy’s heart still hammered at his ribcage in frustration. Because there had to be something there , in the alignment. Some kind of meaning, a mutual understanding shared between their bodies. A form of reassurance. A sign of togetherness —that Tommy was not fucking mad for wanting to share these breaths with Alfie for longer than the bastard had planned for himself.

But each attempt sputtered and failed.

He slammed his fist into the mattress and rolled off the bed, waking Alfie in the process.

-

The toast was burnt that morning. 

No tea— fuck tea. 

Alfie walked into the kitchen, rubbed a palm across his face instinctively. The regular question never arrived, but he answered its ghost regardless. “Still here.”

Yes , Tommy thought, miraculous . 

He left for Birmingham immediately after breakfast, and abandoned his tendency of visiting Alfie in between the special occasions. He would know when the next party would be—the invitation would arrive in the post a few days before it.

+++

A week later, there were only 16 people in attendance, two couples were missing. Whether they had grown suspicious or were dead was left unclarified—Alfie was only interested in one outcome. 

The event proceeded as usual: eat, laugh, sip, Alfie refilling his cup more frequently than usual. Nobody questioned the absence. It was normal.  

And then it was not, because Tommy Shelby walked into the room — eyes bloodshot, scanning the scene. 

There was a 1 in 16 chance that Alfie poisoned himself today, Tommy noted, but he had endured this night after night and he found he’d grown quite bored of the adrenaline. The uncertainty. So he took a stand at the head of the table this time around, his hand hidden behind his coat.

It was meant to be a distraction, perhaps a form of confession —anything to get Alfie to stop these fucking games. Whispers swept the room, mouths parted in surprise—it was a rare occurrence, seeing Tommy Shelby in attendance—and Alfie sighed, because he knew, he fucking knew that Thomas was here to spoil the fun. 

The gun pointed to Tommy’s head, and Tommy’s head pointed towards Alfie.

“One,” 15 pairs of alarmed eyes stared at Tommy’s finger on the trigger. Only 1 pair glared back into his own. Alfie refused to set the teacup down.

“Have you gone fucking mad, mate?” Tommy had actually heard they called this love . 

“Two.” The guests were moving, tripping over chairs, rugs, each other, searching frantically for the exit. The taboo of witnessing a potential suicide outweighed their curiousity, it seemed. So easy to clear a room.  

The doors slammed shut, silence replacing the sound. It was empty now. Just him, and Alfie, and the gun, and the poison laughing out from one of the cups. 

“Three.” Bang.

Tommy’s body crumpled to the floor.

-

He was lying half underneath the table when Alfie finally walked over. His eyes were wide open. Unscathed.

Alfie snatched the gun from his hand, clicked open the cylinder. “Tommy, you know, you’re not fucking invited to the next one, yeah?” the first shot had been a blank, but there was a single bullet inside. “Right—on account of the fucking mess you’ve made here today.” 

“I’m well aware, Alfie.” he was tracing the pattern of the table’s wood with a shaky finger. Alfie grunted and tossed the gun aside. He collapsed awkwardly beside him, taking Tommy’s hand into his own. It would weather his joints even further, lying down here on the floor, Alfie was well aware, but this was the only act of affirmation which seemed appropriate. 

He did not ask about the bullet. He knew why it was there. Kept as a precaution—in case Alfie had decided to drink anyway. 

They breathed together. 

[daydreamindollie]

j.ww | soft hearted

Pairing: j.wonwoo x f.reader

Length: 13k

Genre: soulmate!au (kinda) ; university!au ; strangers2lovers ; domestic violence  

Summary: You were a sweet girl looking for love and protection, he was a stoic man avoiding love at all costs. It's only fitting that the two of you cross paths.

A/N: I really don't know how to feel about this fic or this alternate universe I came up with. I haven't planned everything out so that's why the roles of the hearts aren't as well described here or as influential to the plot as I want them to be but I'll be sure to establish the ordinance of this universe as soon as I can. I'm sorry if the plot seems rushed or fast-paced at all throughout this oneshot, I kept replanning, redrafting and rewriting it but, unfortunately, this is the version I am most satisfied with. I might edit this in the future but that all depends on how much time I have to spare because this took me ages! Oh my goodness! I hope it's a good read for you though! And, hopefully, the next member's story won't take as long as Wonwoo's

In a universe where people carry around their hearts, with some wearing them on their sleeves and others tucking them into the breast pocket of their blazers and out of people’s sight, Wonwoo appeared to be the only one adamant at keeping his at home and off his person when moving about. It wasn’t as though he was embarrassed by his heart or anything, it’s just that, carrying around his heart like most people usually would, was a heavy burden on him, quite literally. Everyone’s heart had a trait that matched the personality of the person they represented and, although they were all as unique as the person that owned them, they all had a similar trait. They were unbreakable - harder than diamond and more precious than any jewel. Despite this physical resilience to external forces, however, they can be fractured by one thing and one thing only: heartbreak.

Wonwoo’s heart was much like the rest in this quality, however, his heart had undergone a phenomenon he’d prefer to keep to himself rather than alert the cardiologists, who specialised in the field of hand-held hearts. Before his first heartbreak, Wonwoo’s heart was soft, in any way shape or form. Its surface was smooth like the finest silk and it was rather sizeable too, almost reaching farther than his fingertips when held in the center of his palm. Not only that but his heart had the viscosity of fluffy marshmallows. Looking back on the time his heart was of that state was laughable because it directly matched his personality: funny and sweet, soft and malleable to any given situation. Now, however, he was hardly like that and so was his heart.

Heartbreak really changed him as a person and usually, people who suffered through that would go through therapy or counseling with their heartbreaker in order to avoid any desperate change their heart and they, themselves, would make in response to the pain of heartbreak. Sometimes, breaking another person’s heart was punishable as a crime simply because of the adverse effect it can have on an individual, and so, it was always taught to children at a young age that when given the responsibility of another person’s heart, they should handle it with the utmost care. Wonwoo never had the pleasure of going through therapy or counseling for his heartbreak; he merely didn’t want the pity and stigma that came when people found out that he had gone through something like that, and he knows for certain that many people would be alerted of his suffering. If people had ever once been heartbroken in their lives it was put in their medical records as a signpost that their heart was more breakable now than before, he also didn’t want the sympathy of others if he were to enter the heartbreak clinic. He just wanted to avoid all the trivial attention.

And so, Wonwoo left his heart alone, to change and morph into stone. He didn’t know what stone it was but it was still as unbreakable as ever, with the exception of the damage heartbreak had brought - he wouldn’t dare test that out. Alongside the change of his heart, Wonwoo also made a drastic change in personality; now he was mostly silent and stoic, inclined to keep to just himself and his group of friends. He had become as quiet and as still as his heart of stone.

It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, though. Wonwoo saw the change to be good because now, he wasn’t so easily fooled by others and their perfidious promises, he was also able to keep away other people, which only lowered the chances of him ever feeling heartbreak again. The only problem was that his heart, now, weighed so much more than it used to and it wasn’t as if Wonwoo had spaghetti arms either; he had managed to weigh the thing once and it was rounded down to 12.5kg. He already had many books to carry as a literature major so it was only an inessential added weight that Wonwoo had no desire of lugging around every day, so it just had to stay home atop his bedside table.

Despite the heartbreak he had suffered through alone, he was admired and sought out by many girls, who would confront him about their feelings if it weren’t for his reputation - his reputation to coldly reject those that even breathed a word to him about anything concerning love. Many rumors make their way around university campus about him and his chilling demeanor, some suspect that he has no heart, others believe he's experienced heartbreak and some just think it’s who he is as a person. The first was simply ridiculous because everyone has a heart but the last two were fairly accurate in their own right. Wonwoo can’t find it in himself to care, however, because they weren’t ever going to find out, he’s only told his closest friends, who have been sworn to secrecy, and he doesn’t plan on telling anyone else, he hasn’t even told his parents.

The tall, expressionless boy simply goes through lectures breezily before huddling up in the corner of the campus library with his nose stuck in-between the pages of an invigorating book. Reading the words of the many writers he admires, envelopes him with daydreams that project the images being described on the woody pages perfectly. It’s the only time he feels like his old self again when his emotions were as vibrant as the colours and shapes he sees through the metal frames of his circular glasses. Maybe that’s why he was so addicted to books and why he had chosen his major when he, previous to the heartbreak, knew nothing of what he wanted to be when he was older.

In spite of his cold manner, all he genuinely wants to do is comfort others, others that could be going through or had already gone through heartbreak. He knows that he can simply become another therapist and garner the same repercussions but it won’t be the same, it won’t provide the same satisfaction as publishing a book because, at least, that comes with the knowledge that his words of comfort and advice can reach others worldwide. He also doesn’t want to provide the usual therapy that focuses directly on the cause, he’d rather provide comfort subtly and in a more enjoyable way. This can only be achieved through the tellings of a story, is what Wonwoo concluded years ago when he had given his future a truly deep and long thought.

Now, he’s here, surrounded by friends and reaching towards a dream as he bites down on a sandwich, ensuring that the crumbs don’t fall into the book held in his hands. He and his twelve other friends occupied a good stretch of the tables provided at the cafeteria and he had hopes that others would be able to bypass him when glancing over but he was wrong much like how he is always mistaken when thinking optimistically about things.

“Look, he’s right there!”

“Isn’t he handsome? So mysterious and cold. He’s just the guy for me.”

“You better watch out, he’s stone-cold when it comes to love confessions. He’s rejected everyone that’s come his way with the intentions of capturing his heart. It's like he doesn't care about whether he breaks someone's heart or not,”

Wonwoo heard a sigh, “And he was so perfect…”

“It’s better to just treat him like art and admire from afar.”

Wonwoo loves following his simple routine and, therefore, has one for everything: for how he should get ready for bed, for what he should do in the morning, for when he should eat his meals, for his university days...the list goes on. Today was another university day for him and both of the lectures he needed to attend today were back-to-back in the early morning, which left him the rest of the day to do with what he wanted. These days were his favourite because after getting work done in the morning he didn’t feel as guilty for spending most of the day he had left in the library and drowning in the river of words in the abundance of books that surrounded him provided.

For most of the day, his routine was the same; he had attended both of his lectures and had eaten his lunch at his preferred cafe, situated right beside the campus library, which was his final destination for the time being. The moment the tall young man had entered the library, however, he was having to spend an extended minute beside the front desk, attempting to process the fact that the elderly lady that used to sit at the desk was no longer there and was now replaced by a wrinkle-free face that adorned the cutest button nose and most innocuous sparkling doe eyes he had ever seen.

“Good afternoon, sir,” you chirp happily up at the stoic man towering over you. He was very handsome, with a slim face and proportionate body, he also adorned cute circular-framed glasses that you weren’t a big fan of but appreciated that they looked good on him. The only thing that put you off of his appearance was that he was absolutely expressionless and when you saw that he wasn’t going to greet you back, your heart sank into your stomach, causing the one in your pocket to become heavy, almost pushing you to tilt down with it. You were able to resist, however, as the male curtly nodded and hurried away, behind a shelving unit of dense books. In doing this, the weight of your heart became light again and the pout that itched to trace your lips was now gone.

Brushing the swift and minorly callous greeting to the back of your mind, you continued on with what your job required. You still had a few minutes left until you had to switch places with someone else and take over their job of restocking the books into their original places. It was a job nobody tended to enjoy but you were eager to get started; it was a new experience and you’d much rather be accompanied by books than other people right now, especially because of that daunting, earlier exchange. Yup, you definitely couldn’t wait to immerse yourself with books that needed stacking.

Many minutes drawled by and your colleague came back, flashing you a smirk as you switched places, it was if they were wishing you good luck with the task. It was a silent wish you felt as though you didn’t need at first but now that you were wheeling around piles of books in a cart twice your size, you were beginning to understand why people had a deep dislike for this duty. You were also left with the pile of books that needed to be stacked in the far corner of the large library. It was an exciting place to explore but not when you were having to sweat buckets just from pushing the cart of books around.

When you finally reached the area that required the majority of books you needed to replace onto their shelves, you wiped at the sweat on your brow before huffing a sigh and beginning to hum to yourself. Humming, was your own way of giving yourself therapy. It was never for serious things, just for when you needed to calm down or needed your mind to be brought elsewhere to distract you from things you didn’t want to confront. It was your own commiseration for when there wasn’t anyone around you to lean on.

You were just minding your own business, getting on with work that needed to get done for pay and didn’t realise the pair of eyes lingering on your figure from the little nook tucked away in a secluded part of the library that hardly anyone noticed. It was a quaint quarter that had the books not many people tended to take out and so it was the perfect place for Wonwoo to set himself up in for an entire afternoon and evening of reading. Of course, there was the occasional person that needed a book from that area but they never stayed long and hardly noticed the tucked-away alcove Wonwoo always occupied. It was a little corner wedged with an antique armchair and a small table with which sat a desk lamp. It was perfect for Wonwoo to read in peace. It also seemed to be a perfect place to watch others - especially cute librarians - move through the tall shelving units.

Earlier, when you had greeted him, Wonwoo was too shocked and afraid to greet you back, he regrets it now but he hopes that one day, the two of you could become acquaintances, at the very least. Deep inside him, however, he yearned for something more. The reason being that he usually hated it when others made any noise around him as he wanted to read in only the company of silence, making any form of noise the antithesis of that. However, he seemed to like your humming; it wasn’t disturbing or distracting at all, in fact, it just added to the relaxed atmosphere he found much delight in. He hadn't a clue why he suddenly had the urge to feel close to you and it was fairly incongruous but he paid no mind to it at that moment.

When you were tucked into the front desk and seated, Wonwoo wasn’t given the opportunity to survey how cute your outfit was. You looked really adorable. The main palette of colour you were draped in were nudes and browns, your pleated skirt was a sweet, walnut brown that you had tucked your maple jumper into. If you weren’t charming already, the white-collar peeking out from underneath your jumper made him feel warm in the chest as he continued staring as you stacked books in your heeled boots, still unable to fully reach the highest shelf with the elevation they gave you. It was definitely an aesthetic that he found attractive, especially on you. This was a peculiar thought because he’s only met you today and he hasn’t even said a word to you yet.

It’s dangerous for him to be feeling this way. After his first and last heartbreak, hasn’t he already learned his lesson about falling in love? It can never end well.

Lost in thought from the conflicts of how strangely attractive you are to him but also how he needs to stop thinking about you or else he’ll find himself in the same situation he was in years ago, Wonwoo briskly loses touch with the happenings around him. Without realising, the tall male continues staring at you as the dispute in his mind goes back and forth long enough for you to turn around to the next shelf and register that the tall, handsome man who had basically ignored your greeting at the desk, was staring at you.

In his hands, you see a worn, hardcover book with aged pages and you instantly flush in embarrassment and shame. You probably disturbed his reading with your humming and by the stern stoic look he’s focusing intensely on you, it appears as though he’s eager to warn you of the disturbance you were making. Not wanting to perturb him further, you tuck your chin into your neck and get on with your work, no longer humming your supposedly disquieting tune.

It takes several moments for Wonwoo to register the fact that you had stopped humming and couldn’t help the small frown that weighs his lips down. The sudden silence is probably his fault too, his heart of stone keeps his face stripped of most emotions so that, even if he were to feel an overwhelming sense of happiness, only a small smile would appear on his face, so subtle that hardly anyone would notice. He doesn’t want to further plague your work so Wonwoo tries to get back into reading his beloved book once more if it weren’t for the slight groan that catches his attention.

Upon looking up, he catches sight of your struggle. The height of the tall shelving units are giant compared to you and your heeled boots, it was an endearing sight to see you attempt at reaching high enough to stack the highest shelf but the weak whimper that escaped your mouth had his chest tightening and before he knew it, he was on his feet and walking your way.

Hearing the slow footsteps getting louder from behind you, you tried to ignore the creeping feeling that swamped your stomach but when a shadow engulfs your own you’re quick to swivel on your feet and lightly bump your nose against a hard chest.

“Let me do that for you…” at the sound of his voice, you almost melt into a puddle of goo on the floor but even though your knees are quaking uncontrollably, you’re somehow able to hold yourself up. You wait with bated breath as you hear him slot the book back into its rightful place on the shelf, “If you need any help with any more books, just ask…” you remained motionless as he stepped back and made the move to return to his little quiet corner for reading but he shocks you again by meeting your eyes and making you flush even more, “I really like your humming; don’t feel like you have to stop because of me.”

Despite his comment, it takes you a few moments to finally start humming again but, this time, you’re more than willing to persist with your own devised tune.

One thing Wonwoo hates more than anything is when his special secluded spot at the library gets stolen by some rowdy freshmen who have yet to experience the reality of work eventually catching up to them if they don’t stay on top of it. It’s the only time his quiet hideaway becomes a social corner. This is supposed to be a library, meant for studying and delving into the fabricated worlds of writers old and new, not a place for social gatherings that disturb the peace and magic in the air. However, it seems as though ever since he had helped you that day, his area has been left spec and span, clean of dust as well as the disturbance that always used to irritate his nerves. The window was finally cracked open to let in a breeze of fresh air so that it didn’t get too stuffy and were cleaned so that the rays of sunlight came in with no disturbance at all. After discerning the fact, he has had a very peaceful week and was kept in good spirits, so much so that he’s always been greeting you at the front desk with, no longer a nod, but a timid wave that always came across as blithe despite his awkwardness at first, and a charming smile.

It would be a lie to say that your chest suddenly felt lighter every time he flashed that pearly-white smile of his your way. The feeling was fluttering and sweet but in the pit of your stomach, there was a sour emotion of guilt that slowly weighed down that light sensation and had you averting your eyes as quickly as you’ve been able to meet his. The foul emotion never seems to reach Wonwoo and he only assumes the quick averting of your gaze as your simple lack of courage, which only forms a swell of fondness for you in his chest. Again, this was a dangerous sign for him but, just like before, he’s rendered helpless as he watches you go about your business, re-stacking shelves and looking absolutely adorable as you do so. Knowing full well of his growing endearment for you, someone he’s hardly interacted with for more than a week or so, he does his best to ensure that keeps you at a good distance away. However, this still doesn’t stop his friendly yet distant greetings of smiles and waves of the hand that have your knees weakening but your stomach churning unpleasantly.

Your stomach is heavy but your chest is light and you feel warm, you know that you shouldn’t wander further into the background of the charming stranger that always smiles your way and never forgets to wave at you whenever you find your eyes locking with his pools of chocolate brown. Sinking your teeth into your bland lunch of old take-out food from yesterday night, you mumble your most burning question across to your colleague, who sits at the other side of the room with one leg crossed over the other. She files down her long nails, a perfectly good looking lunch beside her going cold from her ignorance. She’s the pretty perfect picture of a ‘popular’ girl on campus that’s only doing extra work for the credits and points, which is the only reason why she can be found working in the library. Her and her rowdy bunch of friends usually occupied the charming man’s quiet corner some days of the week and, for you to drive them out, you had to do some bargaining, which landed you with extra chores around the library, hence why you’re hardly able to stop and converse with the handsome stranger Wonwoo. It's not that you even had the pluck to do so in the first place, but you’ve always been willing to sit and watch him read more verbose art with his long fingers turning the pages as his strong palms supported the thickset spine of the book.

“What was that?” your colleague calls as you take a moment to chew and swallow your food before repeating your question. It didn’t matter that you had finished eating because your voice was still weak and hardly reached her, causing her to upturn a drawn-in brow.

“W-Wonwoo…” was the only word she was able to make out but that was all she needed to be rushing over, a smile glowing up her once miserable expression as she plopped herself down beside you, ready to flood out endless rivers of words about the boy. You were quite shocked actually, you didn’t know his name could spark such a reaction.

“Jeon Wonwoo? The handsome bookworm that always seems to visit this library even though I’ve hardly had a glance of him despite working here?” she gushes, all in one breath, as you nod with a look of shock largely evident on your face, which she seems to ignore in her excitement to talk about such a ‘juicy, hot’ topic - as she would describe it.

“Isn’t he super handsome?” she manages to whine but squeal in delight all at the same time, continuing without even giving you the chance to answer her rhetorical question, “He’s so silent and mysterious,” she continues to praise before lowering her voice and leaning closer to you, as if he was about to tell you a secret, “many girls in his literature class have at least had a small crush on him but, apparently, all the people that have confessed to him - some were even guys, mind you - he has rejected very coldly.” she leans back with a shrug of her shoulders, “I’m sure it’s his way of warning all others that he won’t be interested in anyone at this university, but people are more stubborn than that. He should know, I mean, he does literature, I’m sure he’s read ‘Romeo and Juliet’ and about how stubborn those two were,” you can only nod along as you took in all the information she was feeding you, information that you didn’t need. You wanted to know him as a person, not about how handsome he is because you already knew that from the multiple glances you’ve spared in his direction. Also, even without her gossip, you can conclude that you already know more than her about him.

He appears to come by only during the later afternoons, hence why she’s hardly seen him because she leaves a little while after midday as she knows you’ll be covering the rest of her work. Also, he only seems to read for an hour or two before leaving. He only reads and that’s it, he doesn’t study so he probably has another space for that, either that or he’s just really smart and he doesn’t need to put as much work in as other students. It’s unfair that he’s already so fanciable atop being incredibly astute.

As your colleague continues to babble on about god knows what, you slowly start to feel yourself smiling at the possibility of getting to know him if you had the time and geeking over books together but when you bitterly remind yourself that you already had someone, that sourness overcomes your tastebuds again and makes your grimace softly. It’s a pang of reasonable guilt but is misplaced specifically for how your current relationship is right now. It’s a rocky path, full of obstacles that trip you up along the way, leaving bruises and sometimes even cuts that aren't even given sufficient time to ameliorate into scars.

The relationship you have is physical and abusive. It isn’t the fairytale love story that you’ve always dreamed of, it’s not comfortable or sweet or loving in any way. In fact, it’s the exact opposite. You know you should leave him but you’re always hesitant to because, strangely enough, your boyfriend, no matter how abusive, can give you the sense of comfort no one else can. He's able to provide you with reassurance and confidence about yourself that you had developed surrounding him. It’s so perilous for you to believe that if you were to leave him, you will crumble down to the extremely shy and incredibly unattractive girl that you used to be before he came into your life. He has manipulated and twisted your mind so much that although you know you’re better off without him, you can’t leave him because you believe he’s essential to have in your life in order to keep yourself together.

He’s the only person that has ever taken the time to love and cherish you for who you are and, despite the relationship turning sour, you always find a reason - an excuse - to continue staying by his side and turn away from strangers that could help you, even strangers as friendly and comforting as Wonwoo.

It was a Wednesday and you were a little late in setting up the little corner area for Wonwoo but you were determined to get the place clean and comfortable for him to be able to truly relish in the words of most recent ‘must-read’. Almost every few seconds, you would look at the time on your phone and rush your self to hurry before he catches you preparing the place for him. It would be so embarrassing if he finds out that you were going through such lengths for him despite hardly even knowing him but, he’s been so kind to you, kinder than the person who's supposed to be cherishing you like the most precious jewel there has ever been. You suppose your warm heart has gotten warm for him similar to the way it once did for your boyfriend. You still loved your boyfriend though, Wonwoo was just a kind stranger that you want to become friends with despite the controlling hand your boyfriend has been having on your social life.

Just as you were finishing up with wiping down the small side table, you suddenly felt a presence behind you before a tap on your shoulder directed your attention to the handsome face of the stranger you had been frenetically setting up the area for.

“So it’s been you,” he speaks softly, his charming smile making your chest squeeze as you sensed your heartwarming up in your breast pocket.

“Wh-wha-?” you stutter, embarrassed that you’ve been caught but also confounded at the grandeur appeal of his smile.

“You’ve been the one that’s kept other people away from my area and cleaning up any messes you might have missed,” he gives you a nod of thanks before delivering his gratitude in words, “I really appreciate that, thank you.”

“I-It’s alright,” you squeak, face still predominant with a reddish hue, “I just wanted to thank you for helping me out the first time we met,” your admittance only has Wonwoo furrowing his brows and feeling the weight of guilt sink his stomach. It was only one time and it wasn’t that much of a grandiose gesture either. This makes him think of if you’re always this grateful for every little thing, for every kind gesticulation done for you, would you repay someone as if they've saved your life? It’s an endearing attribute but he worries that some people could have taken advantage of that.

“Why don’t I help you with the shelf stacking?” he offers, not even waiting to hear for your response as he walks over to your tray and begins stacking the books.

Gasping, you quickly hurry to his side and try to push him back to his little nook, your small soft hands splayed across his chest as you look up to him with your wondrous doe eyes. He thinks it's adorable how you think he’s going to stop when you look all the more fragile and in greater need of his help at that moment. Your action of prevention has only led to the sealing of his resolution in helping you regardless.

"Please don't trouble yourself. I don't want to get in the way of your time spent reading,"

“It’s alright, I really don’t mind. I mean, you’ve been doing this for me for a while, right?” you don’t respond and remain speechless because you know how horribly you lie and people can just see right through your little act, “I’d feel guilty if I didn’t do this for you, at least. Please let me help you?” he beseeches softly and although you’re tempted to give in, you keep your mouth stubbornly shut, “If it makes you feel better, I’ll only do the ones that you can’t reach and you can do the rest, yeah?”

He doesn’t know why he’s so willing to help you but when he sees you give a hesitant nod, your eyes sparkling with the conflicting emotions of gratitude and worry, he knows why. You look so delicate and frail that his stone heart can’t help but want to protect you from all evil things in the world. Not only that but he greatly admires your kindness, to him, it’s so attractive and charming for a girl to act selflessly and be genuinely compassionate for those around them. To him, those types of people are the most precious because they wouldn’t have the heart to break another's. Taking in a deep breath, he looks away from you in an attempt to keep his mind and heart from wandering too far into the charmingly mysterious being that is you. Although he can sense that you’re the type of person who couldn’t hurt a fly, he still remained guarded.

Wonwoo can’t believe that he has only known you for a short period of time, and yet, he’s talking to you more than he is with his usual gaggle of friends. He mentally argues that this case is different, however, because of the fact that his friends are more talkative than him, which usually leads him to keep silent as the rest of them continue with their conversations. On occasion, he would voice his views, of course, but it wouldn't be often. His friends didn't mind this and he was appreciative of that. You were a different affair because whatever you had to say was something he either had an opinion on or was relatively interested it. In addition to that, it was only ever a conversation between you two; talking like that always required input from both sides at some point. You would also always make sure that he felt included and that you didn't prattle on too much. It was a strange quirk of yours to always ask him a question about every topic brought up between you but he appreciated it none the less. That's probably why he has been able to grow so fond of you. The two of you, he found out whilst stacking shelves and chatting with you, had very similar tastes in books, valued many similar things and had the same humor.

It was comforting to find someone so similar to him and sharing so many things with him but also have that someone be completely different. You were soft and sweet, he was stoic and stern. Based on that alone, he can already tell that you’d be a good equaliser for him. He’s never met someone so perfect yet so fraught with danger for him. There’s this basic need within him wanting to push you away for his benefit and safety but every time he looks your way, in your cute outfit of oversized jumpers and skinny jeans, he is engulfed by that want and needs to wrap you up in his arms where he will have you stay there forever.

“So…” he attempts to start conversation in the midst of stacking the higher shelves for you, “what are you studying?” admittedly, Wonwoo found the sound of his own voice foreign in the preserved silence of the library; he is always inclined to keep to himself and stirs far away from making conversation with others, worried that it would stretch on for a longer period than needed. Surprisingly enough, however, Wonwoo wouldn’t mind if you were to talk decades of knowledge to him in that gentle saccharine voice of yours.

Giggling, you flush red at the prospect that someone so handsome would find enough interest in you to ask you questions about yourself. In an attempt to hide your flustered cheeks, you look towards a lower shelf and re-stack the missing books, failing to catch the bewildered expression of the tall man beside you at the sound of your twinkling laugh. He had never heard anything so melodious.

“I’m studying English Literature and Creative Writing here,” you spoke softly, taking a moment to run your fingers along the delicate spine of an aged hardback before replacing it into the shelf once more.

“You like reading then?”

“Of course!” you gush in a whisper, eyes capturing the sparkle of celestial bodies, an impossible feat but Wonwoo can understand how only you are able to achieve it, “It’s such a great way of escaping the normal world where you can learn to love and hate multiple characters, you learn from their mistakes and achievements and apply what they preach to your own values. I love it,”

Smiling to himself, Wonwoo focuses back on the task he had committed himself to, despite the pull in his chest to continue staring at you, “you took the words right out of my mouth,” surprised at his confession, you stare up at him and catch the smile his pink lips adorned no matter the subtleness of it. Whoever could miss such a charming smile?

Inevitably, the two of you start talking about your favourite books and since your tastes are so similar, you start to gossip about all of your favourite moments hidden in between their creamy pages. You had never experienced something this wonderful before, not even with your current boyfriend. Yes, he used to be a sweetheart but he still didn’t share the same amount of interest you had in books and you had known that, in his eyes, he liked that about you. At the time, it made you feel special and led to your blossoming feelings of affection to him. Unfortunately, those feelings have slowly died away with his gradual change in personality. He’s no longer the same and you wish you could have saved him but by the time you had finally built up the realisation and courage to end his bad habits, it was already too late. There was always the argument of, why don’t you just leave him?

Your heart was still able to warm up at the presence of him as proof of your still evident feelings despite it being not as warm as it used to be in the earliest honeymoon stages of your relationship. There was also the possibility of you breaking his heart in the process and you didn’t want to be responsible for any further negative changes in his lifestyle and mood. It wouldn’t be fair, he was already struggling through his addictions and for you to be so heartless as to leave him for just because you were no longer satisfied and always hurt from his bad habits was extremely selfish. You wanted to stay and help him as much as you can, that’s why you were willing to put your education on pause and drop out of your university course to fully support him by being able to pick up more odd jobs. There’s always a possibility and danger in your mind that he’ll just use the money you earn for his habits but you’re certain that if you just stay by his side, you’ll be able to help him along the path of recovery.

The dreams you have of becoming a famous playwright and poet, much like Shakespear, would just have to wait. Sometimes some things aren’t meant to be but that’s just for the meantime. Things will eventually get better and then you’ll finally be steady enough on your feet to finally pursue your dreams, hopefully, with someone you cherish. Sacrifices have to be made and the thought of getting your loving boyfriend back is the only motivation you need to go through with it.

“So…why are you working in the library? Extra credit?” Wonwoo hums in curiosity, settling back into his armchair after finishing all the top shelves.

“Um…not really…my boyfriend-” there was a tone of insecurity in your voice, forcing you to withhold information from him. He had unknowingly felt a painful ache begin to enclose his heart at the mention of you having a boyfriend but ignored the feeling, wanting to bring you freedom from hardships through articulation.  From your streak of talking freely to him, he finds your tight lips bizarre but remains silent so that you’re free to make the decision for yourself. If you chose to continue talking, he’ll listen but never judge you with whatever you have to say, however, if you chose to stay quiet, he won’t press you further and continue reading his book as per usual. After a long pause, your voice finally reaches out to him, this time, however, weaker and more tentative, “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be,” he instantly reassures, “I’m not going to press you for answers. Just know that if there’s something wrong, even if you don’t tell me what it is, you can come to me at any time for whatever help you might need,”

He didn’t have to offer you his time and consolation but he did anyway and that struck a chord in your heart, making your chest constrict with a fond ache, something you haven’t felt in a very long time with your boyfriend for the past few months.

“Thank you, I really appreciate that,” the two of you smile at each other for a minute or two, never really needing to voice anything more. You were happy.

It has always been routine for Wonwoo to spend most of his afternoon and evenings at the library, it was a hobby that he absolutely loved and his friends understood that. However, suspicions slowly began rising when the tall male is making excuses to stay there longer and visit more frequently. The excuses started off reasonable enough; he needed to read up on an assigned book; he had to catch up work; there was an assignment due soon and so on. Nevertheless, the ostensible reasonings he made can only be used up to a point and his lies became all the more perceptible; I left my bag there (“but your back is in the corner of the room-”); I forgot to take out this book that I’m suddenly interested in reading (“but you never liked books of that genre”), I don’t spend enough time at the library (“you spend more than enough time there, this is the first time we’ve gotten together and talked this week!”). It was outrageous. So when the boys did a little digging and found out he was making heart eyes at a sweet-looking librarian girl, they left him to himself. They never thought that he’d ever find interest in a girl but they were overjoyed at being proven wrong. In fact, they were so ecstatic that they made up excuses for him to leave and go spend time at the library.

They were happy for him and anxious to meet the librarian that, they knew, he’d eventually reel in and have in his arms. It was only a matter of time.

The topic of hearts was an unavoidable topic to be brought up but Wonwoo was secretly hoping that you’d be one of the people to keep to your own. However, he wasn’t surprised that, when you got extra time to sit around and talk to him, you elucidated inquisitiveness in his heart. You were asking gentle questions, not openly pronouncing a want to see or touch his heart but he knew that you secretly wanted to do those things; everyone wanted to know about everyone else’s heart, especially if they’re the ones that bring about the topic first.

“What’s your heart like?” you habitually tilt your head, as if you don’t know the effect it has on his poor soul, “I want to know,” he fails to keep the hesitance from showing on his face, which you instantly try to remedy, “I’ll show you and let you hold my heart now if you promise to show me and let me hold yours in return one day,” it seemed like a fair deal, you weren’t giving him a time limit and he was getting something similar in return. He had a lot of freedom in this covenant. Although he was having second thoughts, his head was already confirming the agreement for him.

Your smile instantly brightens as you go to reach your hand into your pocket and quickly present your heart to him, cradled in your cupped palms. The heart in your hands was clear and glass-like, it had a geometric look about it. Despite the visibly sharp vertices being rounded off smoothly, they were still prominent, which brought forth fear of being cut.

“Give me your hand…” you softly urge, pulling him into a trance that had his hands reaching out in the same cradled shape like yours. It was an intimate act -allowing someone to hold your heart. The only other person that had held your heart was your boyfriend. He had dropped it many times before from being too careless with it. It made you wince when it was dropped each time but you know can trust Wonwoo, despite only knowing him for several weeks. It was strange but you accepted it because you know he's the time of person that would never intentionally hurt another, unlike your current boyfriend.

“It’s warm…” his deep voice awes as he stares down at your heart, making you blush at the amount of attention and care he’s giving it, “It’s soft too…” he takes a moment to think of how to further describe it, “it's like its made of silk even though it looks like it’s made of glass,” he smiles up at you, only further deepening the pink hue of your blush as you look towards your feet to avoid his fond gaze. This is bad. If you continue catching feelings for Wonwoo, you’ll feel like a worse person than your current boyfriend. Is this cheating? You’re sure you’re allowed to talk to other guys when still in a relationship. “You have a really warm heart,”

“Thank you,” you blurt in a panic, not knowing how to react as he chuckles deeply, making your chest squeeze in the most pleasant way.

You were lost in each other's eyes, subconsciously leaning into one another as you held your heart together. The moment was perfect. You would've liked to treasure and keep it as a pretty picture in your head if it weren't for the rotten aftertaste it left in your mouth. Kangdae, the man you had once thought and wished you would spend the rest of your life with, had witnessed the loving exchange, he was expeditiously seeing red.

He had been suspicious of your dubious buoyant attitude whenever you would come home from or get ready to go to the university campus library for work. It had been happening for a few weeks and it had driven him mad with curiosity. In order to satisfy his inquisition, he resolved to espionage on your work shift. Now, he was driven mad with resentment and indignation.

It didn't take long for Kangdae to reach you with his long strides and pull you harshly away from Wonwoo. In his tight grip, he squeezes your rapidly chilling heart as the grasp he has encircling your wrist constricts to the point where you fear that the circulation of blood to your hand is cut off.

"I'm sorry that my girlfriend," Kangdae growls at you behind clenched teeth as you cower helplessly, "has been bothering you. I'll be taking her home early today," terror precipitately clouds over your wide, doe-like eyes. And, as you are dragged away, you flash Wonwoo a look of absolute, unadulterated trepidation. He becomes frozen in time where fear for your wellbeing consumes his tall figure. Although he wanted to help, it wasn't in his place to speak up for you as he's probably the reason why your lover has reacted with such antagonism. He takes a step forward but finds you are already gone and no matter how hard he tries, he cannot think of anything other than your horror-stricken face. Your sweet, innocent complexion doesn't suit such an emotion, which only emphasises how wrong and sour the situation is for you.

The horrible, pulsing sting of your black eye persists until the next day where you dread about the thought of going to work at the library once again. Luckily, Kangdae had his own 'errands' to run for, which you're pretty sure will just be indulging in his own self-destructive habits. He's horrible. How could he do this to you? But, then again, you're possibly just as horrible as him by helping feed his habits as you were the one working to earn money for him to spend. Never before has he hit you but you try to reason that you were deserving of it, seeing as you were bordering on cheating on him in his eyes.

Leaning back and staring at yourself in the mirror, you wince at the crack your back gives from being bent over for so long, trying to cover up your black eye with foundation. You suppose it'll have to do, hopefully, Wonwoo doesn't take notice; you wince just thinking about the possibility. If you were to avoid the confrontation you're anxious to encounter with Wonwoo today then you'll just have to avoid him as much as possible.

And avoid him, you did, as if he were the plague.

The distance you were adamant in maintaining between you left Wonwoo befuddled more than he has ever been in his life. However, he's able to draw straight parallels between your bizarre distance and the sour mood your boyfriend was in the day before. Not wanting to worsen the situation any further, Wonwoo leaves you be in spite of the great amount of disinclination he felt in doing so.

It's surprising how he's been able to keep to himself for the better part of his time at the library, seeing as he's grown a habit of seeking you out just to hold a conversation. However, he shouldn't applaud himself too much as he was still finding it very difficult to concentrate on the book in his hands as his eyes would always wander to wherever he heard your dainty steps every few minutes. It was as if he was willing to convince himself that you were still there and safe.

Eventually, you ambivalently wheel your cart of books to Wonwoo's section, assuring yourself that he was engrossed in his book before going about your business and proceeding to stretch up high just to reach for the top shelf. Your grunts of evident struggle alert the tall male immediately and not a second passes before he's on his feet and making his way towards you in long strides. Yes, he aimed to keep away from you, waiting for you to go to him at your own time - a better time - when your boyfriend wasn't keeping such a close eye on you. However, it was now a habit for him to help you stack the higher shelves, should there be any to stack in exchange for keeping his little nook clear of clutter and annoying younger years. It actually came as a surprise to him when he had gotten to his secluded corner and found that you had still kept it clean and void of any loud company for him. Therefore, he still owes you his helping hand.

In shock at the sudden hand that gently takes the book from you and places it onto the highest shelf, you quickly turn and lock eyes with Wonwoo, whose own widens at the underlying purple hue of your right eye.

"What happened to you?" his voice was filled with concern and shock. Certainly, your boyfriend wouldn't be this type of guy. He pegged him to only have a jealousy issue but this made him lower than dirt and the scum of the earth.

"I-...I had a little accident,"

"And avoiding my eyes definitely means you're telling me the truth," you spare him a glance of guilt before turning away once again, "was he the one that did this to you?" met with silence, hopelessness grips him. The instant he notices your shoulders starting to shake, he places a comforting hand on your shoulder as a gesture of comfort but brings you into his arms when it does nothing back make your palpitations worse, "please tell me so I can help you, (Y/N)," his actions shock him but he really shouldn't be, seeing as you've always been able to bring about things about him he's usually unable to express. He never knew whether it was a good or bad thing but over time, he's been able to consider it as yet another wonderful thing about you.

"H-he's never hit me like this before, it's always b-been just verbal fights b-between us..." you sob in a vulnerable and broken voice, "I-I'm sure he didn't m-mean it, Wonwoo"

"That should never happen," his timbre holds a dangerous note of protectiveness and repulsion. How disgusted can your boyfriend be that he should ever even think of raising his hand at you? "There's never a good enough excuse for a man to ever lay a hand on his lady. Take me to him so that we can have a talk about what he's doing wrong," his eyes were steeled with an intense tenaciousness but you wouldn't allow him to do such a thing.

"No! Please stay away, you could get hurt," Wonwoo tries to protest but you only shake your head 'no', "you're a very dear friend to me, Wonwoo, it would hurt so much more than this black eye if anything were ever to happen to you because of me,"

"It wouldn't be your fault though,"

"But it will be," he can see that you're trembling even more now, like a leaf in the face of bitter autumn winds, so he can't bring himself to argue further and put more stress onto you, "I-I have to go home...I'm sure my shift's already over,"

"(Y/N)," he keeps you gently in place with a caring hand holding your own, "you're shivering uncontrollably and I'm pretty sure it's because of the man you're going home to," you can't dispute the truth, "please come stay at my apartment tonight so that I know you're safe, you can sleep in my bed while I sleep on the sofa,"

There's evident hesitance in your eyes but the more you think about it the more the avidity builds up deep inside you. The thought of going back home, simply to be shouted at again wasn't a welcoming idea, especially after what Kangdae had done to you.

You were having to push your friend away because of him, you were in pain because of him, you dropped out of uni because of him.

Looking into Wonwoo's deep brown, chocolate eyes, you find comfort and worry. It feels so so nice to have someone care and worry about your wellbeing for once that you find yourself nodding in agreement to his proposal.

Wonwoo's home is just what you expected it to be like: clean and organised but homey and comfortable. There wasn't an ever-growing pile of trash bags in the corner, it smelled like him and there was a consistent monochrome aesthetic with splashes of blue in the decor.

"You have a lovely home," you utter softly as soon as he's helped you out of your jacket and you've taken in the humble space.

"Thank you," you see a hint of a blush on his cheeks, "can I get you anything?"

"Just water would be good, thank you," he nods at your request and gestures for you to get comfortable on the sofa before he's out of the room and into the kitchen.

Tensions were high at first but soon enough conversations were flowing smoother than an undisturbed river between you. It just felt so natural to be with him, talk to him, look at him, sit with him, drink with him, laugh with him. You're so glad and grateful that he's there for you; you wouldn't have been able to voice this to anybody else, only him. You don't know why that may be the case but you're quick to start speculating that it may have something to do with you considering him to be more than just a friend...

Shaking your head, you rid the thoughts immediately. Those thoughts shouldn't be there. Wonwoo is just a friend. A really good friend that takes care of you, has beautiful eyes, luscious hair that you want to run your fingers through and such a sweet smile in spite of his cold exterior. He surprises you every day, they're all pleasant surprises just like the time you found out the two of you adore hamburgers and pomegranates. It isn't like the surprises your boyfriend slaps you in the face with; Kangdae's are almost always bad. Sighing, you try not to think about the things that transpired over the past year or two when your relationship consistently reached multiple lows.

"There, everything's ready for you." Wonwoo muses as he walks out of his room, flashing you a kind smile, "I changed the sheets and made sure everything's clean - all that's left to do is for you to have a goodnight's rest,"

"Wonwoo, are you sure that you're okay with having me sleep in your bed? This is your home and I don't want to be even more of a burden to you. Please let me sleep on the sofa instead," you plead with your eyes but he's having none of it. Instead, he is stepping his way towards you with a shake of his head.

"You aren't being a burden. I just want to take care of you since that-" he cuts himself off from insulting Kangdae, not wanting to upset you further by bringing him up, "since your boyfriend isn't looking after you as well as he should be and I think you deserve, at least, that much - it's what everyone deserves..." there's a pause as he reaches his hand up to cup your face and tilt your head up to him, where he stares down at your bruised eye and gently rubs his thumb beneath it.

Sensing his question, you console him with a, "It's feeling much better than earlier, thank you," you muster a small smile that he returns.

"Good but, just to be safe, I've put some painkillers on the bedside table," you nod in appreciation and smile wider.

"Thank you Wonwoo,"

"It's no problem, (Y/N),"

Just as you step towards the bedroom, you quickly realise something, "I-I don't have a change of clothes for the night..." you murmur, "or anything to brush my teeth with..." turning around, you stare up at Wonwoo with your big doe eyes and he has to resist the urge to coddle and coo at you to which he resolves by responding back quickly.

"You can borrow my clothes, it's alright," he leads you to his room and prepares a shirt and shorts for you to wear to bed, "I also keep extra toothbrushes around just in case," as soon as you're set, he leaves you to get ready as he gets ready in the living room.

'How lucky I am to have someone like him standing beside me,' you muse to yourself as you stare at your reflection in the mirror, swamped by his gigantic shirt. In the end, you had decided to forgo the shorts he offered because they just kept slipping and, thankfully, his shirt reached passed your mid-thigh so you were still covered. Although your outfit was cute, you looked really horrible without the makeup covering your black eye. With a sigh, you disregard the negative thoughts and stepped out into the living room to greet Wonwoo 'goodnight'.

Once you've circled the sofa, you realise that Wonwoo had already fallen asleep, his feet were lifted onto the arm of the sofa due to how tall he was and, although you feel bad for the discomfort he may be feeling right now, it's simply too comical of an image to not giggle at. After having a light-hearted chuckle to yourself, you pull the blanket he already has draped over him up to his neckline and over his shoulders before easing a fluffed-up pillow under his head. To your relief, he shows no sign of waking up from the movement.

He's so soft looking. You wish many more people get to see this gentle side of him because it's such a real shame that his beauty isn't shared in this way. His hair looks so soft, his skin is glassy and creamy-smooth, his lips, plump and pink. Absentmindedly, you go to kiss him goodnight. It's a direct line to his lips but you quickly catch yourself and lightly brush your lips against his anyway in defiance of your redirection to peck his cheek.

"Pleasant dreams, Wonwoo..." you whisper softly in your shy, sweet voice before heading off to his bedroom. Unbeknownst to you that as soon as your back is turned, Wonwoo's eyes snap open and his fingers are tracing the stamp of your lips against his cheek. He doesn't have hope in ever falling asleep that night as a blush dusts his countenance and his heart beats a mile per second, grinning like a mad man.

Too hooked up on the kiss you had almost planted onto his lips, Wonwoo abandons all rational and tiptoes into his room, where he finds you sleeping in his bed, right beside the window. You seem to have forgotten to draw the curtains, causing the moonlight to blanket your snoozing figure. You look so gorgeous. Much like sleeping beauty, better even. He can't help but seem to frown at your black eye, however, reaching down to caress your cheek, smiling once again when you lean into his touch and sigh in content. He wants to kiss you so badly and do the job right but his morals just wouldn't let him. From an outsider's perspective, he would be taking advantage of you in your sleep; you still have a boyfriend, albeit a horrible one, but a boyfriend nonetheless and he doesn't want to make the situation worse. If he can keep himself from causing you any more problems then he'd gladly stay clear from you to do so. Not fully though, because you still need someone to look after you and he will gladly fill that role. Nothing more, nothing less. With that, he steps away and goes back to sleep on the sofa.

Morning comes sooner than Wonwoo anticipated but he's not complaining as he's awoken in the best way possible - to the smell of breakfast. He can only assume that it's your doing as you're the only other person in his apartment. The gesture warms his heart, especially when he sees you cooking away in the kitchen, where he almost has a heart attack at the sight of you his oversized shirt. He didn't know anyone could look so good in just a simple T. The scene is very domestic, something he's always craved despite his horrible first love experience. He has never been good at cooking or eat appropriately so he really can't be blamed for falling for you even more.

In his mind, Wonwoo has a debate on whether or not he should alert you of his presence but he decides against it; you look so comfortable cooking breakfast and he doesn't want to interfere with that. It only takes a few minutes, however, before you're turning around and getting the shock of your life. The look on your face and your extremely animated reaction has him laughing aloud with his head thrown back.

"I-I hope you don't mind me cooking for you," you blush softly.

"I really don't mind. I'm actually grateful. I don't know when was the last time I had a warm, homecooked breakfast," he takes a seat at the small table in the corner of his quaint kitchen, his eyes never leaving yours.

"I'm the grateful one," you counter, "because you saved me even though it's not all over yet," with the breakfast plated, you move to the table and sit across from him, "I'll make sure to be out of your hair as soon as possible but thank you so much for this, Wonwoo,"

"No, that's not happening," Wonwoo growls lowly, "I don't want you going back to him where you're unsafe and-"

"Wonwoo..." you place a hand over his to calm him down, which you find that he is surprisingly subservient to your touch because his shoulders almost immediately lose their tension, "let's talk about this after breakfast and just enjoy the food, please?" thankfully he agrees but not after apologising.

Breakfast is short and sweet, quiet but still filled with galvanised murmurs about everything under the sun. Soon enough, you're on your feet again, washing up and clearing the dishes together. However, things quickly get serious when Wonwoo sits you down in the living room with an earnest look on his face.

"Why...why do you think he's like this towards you?"

"He used to be a really good guy and I loved him so much..." you sigh, turning your gaze down at your hands folded on your lap, "but he's easily paranoid that someone else will take me away so he's always protective but he's also developed an alcohol problem and was fired from his job quite some time ago so I work to help support the both of us, meaning that I had to drop out," you feel the tears beginning to surface, "That day was the first time he ever got really violent with me...I just hope he gets better because I know he can be a good person," you look up at Wonwoo with hopelessness in your glossy eyes, "right? He can get better again? I know his old self is still inside him somewhere,"

You don't know why you feel so disappointed when Wonwoo gives you a sympathetic look, "I don't think that'll happen any time soon and I don't mean to hurt your feelings, (Y/N), but I think this will only ever get worse,"  you choke on a sob as Wonwoo brings you into his chest, petting your hair as your tears soak into the breast of his shirt. It takes several minutes before you calm down enough for him to feel assured that you won't break down further as soon as he starts talking again, "you can’t stay with someone like him, clearly he doesn’t love you enough to care for you the way someone, who deserves you, should,"

"Where will I go Wonwoo?" your voice is desperate as you look up at him with your button nose coloured a soft pink, same with your eyes, "My family lives hours away and because of him, I’ve lost all my friends…I have no one…"

"You have me…" he reassures, "and I’m more than willing to let you stay with me if you want"

"T-that’s really sweet but…what am I going to do about all the stuff I have at his place?" you want to accept the offer but you seem to be coming up with excuses to stay with Kangdae. You don't know why because it's clear that you do deserve better and that, deep down, you should have left the day things started going wrong.

"Let me handle that, my friends and I can go with you to collect your things so that he can’t get close to you. But, just to be on the safe side and so that you’re comfortable, we can do it when you know he’s not going to be there," all you can do is nod, unable to find the words for how grateful you are and how horrible you feel for not doing what was best for you for so long.

"That’s my girl…" Wonwoo's words send your heart fluttering as he gives you a soft squeeze, still in his arms. Him calling you his sounds so nice, "I'm sorry someone like you is having to go through this"

"I’m just so thankful that I have you by my side…I love you Wonwoo," you're shocked at your own words, frozen in place and mouth left agape. After a long pause, you finally muster up to courage to look back at the male before you, who snaps out of his own daze as soon as your eyes meet.  

"I- I love you too…" he stutters out, leaving the two of you to stare at one another for a moment before turning away with red-hot faces and spinning minds.  

"H-he um..he’s usually out of the house and drinking at 7:30 every night so…"

"O-okay," Wonwoo lets out a shaky breath, heart racing and mind fuzzy, "we'll get your things then,"

After the initial shock of the sudden confession passes, the day goes by as normal - well, as normal as it could with the two of you being bashful at every glance and accidental touch. The two of you expected tensions to rise even higher but things were just kept...sweet. Especially because your boyfriend hadn't even bothered to text you. You can only guess that he had gotten himself super wasted the night before, woke up super late and went off again, thinking that you had already just gone to work early. Many days of not seeing each other passed like that between you and Kangdae, which made you feel even more stupid about how submissive you were to him. Instead of your relationship growing and blossoming into a beautiful floret of unconditional love, it only wilted and gradually atrophied into nothing, dust. There was no love left. And you were foolish enough to stay and believe that Kangdae could get better when you were only being as toxic as he was to himself and your relationship.

You're so glad Wonwoo has convinced you to leave him because you deserved better than that. You like to think that you knew this all along but there's never a problem with someone giving you a soft nudge in the right direction. For you, it was Wonwoo.

"(Y/N), I want you to meet Seungcheol and Mingyu," Wonwoo gestured to two very handsome, very tall and quite intimidating men, "they will be coming with us to get your things," he smiles kindly at you to which you miss the look of absolute shock that passes the two men's eyes, "they're my friends so you can trust them," Looking towards the two once more, you flash a gentle smile, which they happily reciprocate.

"So you're the girl that's swept our Wonwoo off his feet?" the taller of the two cooed, his chestnut brown hair flopping as he gives a little jump of happiness.

"It's about time," the other one smirks, chuckling at the soft glare Wonwoo flashes from behind you, "he needs a girl to distract him from all those books,"

They may be friendly and teasing now but when Wonwoo had reached out to all of his friends and explained the situation, they were utterly livid. Seething with anger, they all volunteered to help. It was overwhelming but it made Wonwoo extremely happy that his friends would be there for, not only him, but also for a complete stranger. Peering down at you now, Mingyu and Seungcheol found an even better reason to help out their friend than his initial proposal; you were just too precious to not help. You were tiny and fragile looking and, although your black eye made them wince, they found your beauty to be just as intimidating as Wonwoo's except that yours was on the other side of the beauty spectrum to their lean brother.

"You live here?" Mingyu exclaimed without thought, causing both Wonwoo and Seuncheol to slap him upside the head.

"Yeah..." you cringe, "I try to keep it clean but it can never stay that way with Kangdae around," you whisper as the three boys nod behind you.

"Hurry and get what you need, Mingyu, Seungcheol and I will keep a lookout," you nod and get to work. There weren't many things that you had to yourself, you actually had to sell a lot online so that you could afford to pay bills. It was funny how this was Kangdae's apartment but you were the one paying all of the electricity, gas, rent, food and much more. It made you laugh humourlessly. You'll never sacrifice yourself for someone like him again.

The time that you had arrived was at 19:40 and you were just about ready to go at around five minutes past eight in the evening. You just have your skincare left to pack before you can be well on your way.

"Who the hell are you?" the drunk voice of your boyfriend screams from within the living room, sending your heart racing.

"We're friends of (Y/N),"

"Where is she?!" Kangdae's voice grows louder and fear grips you around the neck. It was suffocating. This always happened, but when you hear Wonwoo talk back to him, just to sound of your gentle giant's voice has the power to calm you down completely and grow confidence in your heart.

"She'll be coming home with us, I'm afraid,"

"Yeah, she's just here to pack her things," Mingyu explains, putting up a brave face despite being the last person to ever involve himself in fights. He didn't sign up for this confrontation but just remembering the sadness in your eyes behind a purple, yellowing bruise spikes pluckiness within him. This guy was tiny compared to him anyway.

"She's leaving me? Why?! I bet it's because of you!" Kangdae jabs a finger at Wonwoo just as you step into the living room, putting up a valiant facade in spite of your still racing heart.

"Yes, Kangdae. I am leaving but it's not because of Wonwoo. I deserve better than the way you've been treating me. We're over, please don't ever contact me from now on because I never want to see you again," nearing the end of your sentence, you start to sniffle, heartbroken over losing something that could've been so much like heaven. Thankfully, Wonwoo is quick to pull you into a protective embrace just as Kangdae jumps towards your shaking frame. As soon as he tries to jump you, he is pushed back and kept away by Mingyu and Seungcheol. Despairing,  your boyfriend, now ex, breaks down into pathetic weeping. Kangdae begs you to stay, apologising profusely and doing everything in his power to convince you to remain standing beside him but Wonwoo flashes a cold stare as he leads your sniffling form out the door, eliciting more vociferous wails.

"I'm really proud of you, (Y/N)," Wonwoo whispers as he wipes away your silent tears, "it takes guts to face someone you fear and need to break away from despite your history together," you nod, unable to muster up a smile, fully prepared to fall asleep and forget about the world.

The night is luxuriating, where you share three large pizzas and engage in a Disney movie marathon in Wonwoo's living room with Seungcheol and Mingyu. They made you laugh just by being themselves; their dynamic with each other was just so wholesome, full of teasing, many inside jokes, and endless smiles that they made you forget about any fatigue plaguing your bones.

"We need to introduce (Y/N) to the rest of the guys," Mingyu suggests through a mouthful of pepperoni pizza.

"There's more of you?" you tilt your head, smiling brightly as an eagerness fills you in anticipation of meeting the rest of their friendship group.

"There's ten more of us, actually," Seuncheol laughs at your look of shock.

"You can come and join us at our weekly hang out, if you're up to it," Mingyu offers cheerily after finally swallowing his food.

It was nearing midnight when Mingyu and Seungcheol finally make the journey back to their own apartments, leaving you and Wonwoo to go through your night routine together. You were sad to see them go, already feeling attached after just a few hours spent together but their promise of taking you to their next hang out was enough to keep you content for the meantime.

"If you don't want to join us at our hang out, you really don't have to," Wonwoo randomly brings up when you're going about your night routine. When you look up at him, you see his cheeks are dusted a soft pink, which makes you chuckle and raise suspicions.

"Don't tell me you're embarrassed about them, Wonwoo,"

"It's not that I'm embarrassed by them..." he pauses to sigh before continuing as he continues to moisturise his face, "I just don't want them embarrassing me in front of you," that makes you laugh so hard, you almost forget about your black eye and when you scrunch up your eyes whilst laughing, you cut off to squeak in pain. "Are you okay?!" in half a second, Wonwoo was beside you, a hand cupping your face and tilting your head up towards him so as to examine your injury.

"Y-yes, I'm fine, thank you. I'm sorry-" after blinking your eyes several times, you stare up at Wonwoo who had grown silent as he continues to sink deeper into your sweet gaze, the look in his eyes cutting off your rambling.

Was he leaning closer into you?

Were you leaning into him as well?

What's pressing against your lips? Why are your eyes closed?

Oh well...this must be what real heaven is. You don't know how you could have waited and hoped so long for Kangdae to be like this when it only took Wonwoo a few months of getting to know you to become your safe haven.

Several months pass by. In the first, you were adamant at finding your own apartment and moving out so that Wonwoo could have his own space again but fate just wouldn't separate the two of you. There wasn't a single chance that came by for you to get your own apartment so, in agreement with Wonwoo, you decided that you might as well just stay with him. Of course, you let him have his bedroom back while he turned his small study into a room for you. You felt like such a burden but Wonwoo was resolute in keeping you from ever feeling that way for long. It became a routine for you to cook breakfast, which you enjoyed doing because it meant that Wonwoo would leave for his lecture with a full stomach and ready to perform his best, while the two of you worked as a team to make dinner. However, sometimes you would cook it and other times Wonwoo would make something. He was more than eager to show you how much he was able to learn about cooking under your instructions. It never ceases to amaze you with how perfect ever new dish turns out despite cooking being such a new dexterity for the male. You're so proud of him.

Getting to meet the rest of Wonwoo's friends, you were accepted into the circle right away. Never before had you felt so much love and happiness. They treated you like the sister they never had, cooing at you and spoiling you rotten, standing behind the reason that you deserve it for being so adorable. On the other hand, such good treatment doesn't come without its downsides as the boys practically teased you and Wonwoo into going out together. It was a silly idea. A very silly idea that ended with you and Wonwoo surprisingly (or unsurprisingly) getting together.

It was hard at first, seeing as you had just gotten out of such a calamitous relationship with Kangdae, who hadn't stopped blowing up your phone the first week since you left until you were forced to block his number and get a new one, just to be on the safe side. Your hesitancy, only lasted, however, until Wonwoo was finally willing to let you hold his heart.

"Really?!" you squeal in excitement as the male before you chuckles and goes to fetch his heart.

"Yes, really," he comes back to find you bouncing in your place on the sofa, an image that almost washes all of his nerves away, "it's pretty heavy and isn't very nice to hold at all so be careful, alright?"

"Who cares!" you wave off his worries with the most nonchalant wave of your hand as you reach out to accept his heart of stone. He sits beside you as you examine his heart, running your fingers across its edges as he holds his breath, "Wonwoo," you tut in bluff disappointment, "you didn't have to lie to me," the male sits in shock, eyes wide as he watches you cuddle his heart in your hands. Never before had you looked so endearing, that the usually stoic male leans in to kiss you. He catches you off guard and turns the both of you into flustered messes. Wonwoo can safely bet that the two of you will continue getting flustered even years into the future and he's perfectly okay with that.

It appears as though his heart turns soft and light only for you while it stays substantial in weight on all other occasions. Even though it isn't a permanent change in other situations and Wonwoo still can't wear his heart around with him, he's happy with his heart only turning soft and light in your hands.

As long as you stay with him, he's happy.

As long as you keep turning his heart soft and light, he's happy.

As long as he has you, he's happy.

masterlist / seventeen hearts m.list

[burningtimemachinetrash-blog]

Yogastudio geleen

yogastudio limburg Yoga is developing and quick getting one of the most mainstream approaches to work out. Numerous individuals are inexperienced with the advantages of yoga, how to discover a studio, garments and hardware, types and stances, and everything else that novices are uncertain of. I resembled this when I began as well so I chose to expound on yoga in a manner that would assist novices with understanding the nuts and bolts.

Yogastudio geleen

Before you begin taking a class, here is my inspirational moment to you! Numerous individuals have said they shed pounds, turned out to be increasingly adaptable, diminished pressure, loosened up their psyche, brought down pulse and hypertension, and the rundown continues endlessly. I don't have the foggiest idea what benefits you are hoping to accomplish yet in the event that you begin with the correct teacher and work at it, your odds of progress are extraordinary with yoga! I can't suggest it enough and regardless of whether you have never worked out, you will see it as an incredible encounter that at long last you can begin at your own level and progress and get results quick! What yoga attire and hardware do I need was the greatest inquiry I had when first beginning. I found that the most significant thing is open to dress.

Try not to stress over shoes either since it is done shoeless. Take a towel with you to each class and a fixed holder of water. You unquestionably need to get a decent yoga tangle since they can get sweat-soaked. I wager you would prefer not to acquire one from the studio! A lot of yoga squares is a great idea to have just as a little cover. Maybe the studio you select will have the squares so hold off buying those until you choose where you will join. Simply wear open to garments that isn't excessively close or excessively free and don't stress over shoes.

The most ideal approach to locate a decent studio is to utilize a proposal from an outsider and afterward go converse with the teacher! Most teachers are glad to address your inquiries before you join and you will know whether you are OK with them. Do this early before the day of the top of the line since that time can be occupied for the educator and studio. The various sorts of yoga and postures will all be disclosed when you get the chance to class.

yogastudio limburg

The beneficial thing about yoga is you work at your level and there is no strain to keep up, as in vigorous exercise class or a training camp cardio class. Yoga is done at your own pace and you let your body reveal to you when to go to the following level. Once more, this is clarified and educated by your educator so make certain to focus toward the start of class and show up around 10 minutes ahead of schedule. All in all, I trust this article was useful so you can get out there and be amped up for joining a Yoga studio and have some supportive data about what you will require. Simply recall - go out and begin!!

Picking the correct studio for your yoga needs is a significant choice. Don't hesitate to stop by [https://www.yogageleen.nl/] and see our highlighted yoga studio!

+31 6 83795217

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[dailycharacteroption]

Conversion Corner:  FTL Races part 1

Crystal & Engi

 Doing another race conversion this week, with another space-themed game at the center of it. Starfinder really does go for that “Star Wars Cantina Scene” feel, so it’s my pleasure to fill out a few more seats in the back with more wild and wooly critters from other parts of the universe.

FTL is a much more recent game (2012) by Subset Games, and focuses on controlling a spaceship and its crew as you try to outrun the villainous rebellion (Yeah, in this game the rebels are actually unironically the bad guys) in order to deliver information to the remains of the Galactic Federation and launch a counteroffensive to destroy the rebel’s new superweapon.

In addition to controlling the ships systems and weapons, you have to control your crew to let them repair and buff said systems, as well as fend off boarding parties. Each species of crew member has different advantages, suiting them to certain roles, including granting extra successes during different random events.

 The first that we will be looking at today is actually the secret race, the Crystals!

A genetic and philosophical offshoot of the rockman race, the crystals fled to a secluded, hard to reach region of space to escape the religious zealotry of their kin. There, the crystals developed over the millennia into their current forms, bulky and rocklike like their kin, but being composed to translucent crystal.

In FTL, Crystals have more health than a standard human, though not as much as a rockman, take less damage from a lack of air, and are somewhat slower, but they also have a “lockdown” power that encrusts a room with crystal, ensuring that no one can enter or leave the room while it lasts. As such, their primary use is typically to repair vacuum-exposed rooms and use their lockdown to keep enemy crew (on the attack or on the defensive) out of certain rooms, (or away from their own medbay, allowing them to easily be finished off).

However, crystal crews are pretty exclusive to a few types of run, either finding the rare crystal capsule event, or starting with the crystal cruiser ship that said event can possibly unlock.

As mentioned above, crystals fled to an unknown corner of the galaxy, existing with zero contact with the rest of the galaxy. There, while they had rejected their kin’s religious zeal, the isolation did nothing to suppress their xenophobia. However, many are much more reasonable than they typical rock-folk.

Additionally, due to a genetic mutation, the crystals bodies became more gem-like, able to rapidly grow temporary crystalline masses in a pinch. Seeing the opportunity, they were quick to engineer their organic crystals to form the basis of most of their technology, crafting ships and weapons from living crystal, hollowing them out and inserting what tech that cannot be replicated into the structure.

Not much is known about crystal culture, both due to the game developers not expanding upon it, and due to the fact that their species has only just re-connected with the rest of the universe due to the actions of the protagonist ship of FTL. Their culture seems faily open and varied, with different opinions and moralities possible, some welcoming outsiders that prove their honorability, while others blaming them for disrupting the peace and leading more violent, warlike groups to the sector.

Crystals get along well with most other races, particularly those with rocky bodies like themselves like the urog and the shimreen. Contrary to expectation, many do not seem to harbor distrust of individual rockmen, though I imagine they are hesitant to involve themselves with their culture as a whole.

 Ability Adjustments: +2 Con, +2 Int, -2 Dex

Hit Points: 6

Racial Traits:

Size and Type: Crystals are humanoids of the crystal subtype

Crystalline Growth: Projecting a mineral liquid which rapidly solidifies and grows crystalline structures, crystals can fill a 10-ft radius area with crystals, creating difficult terrain, or target a creature or object with a ranged attack targeting EAC, entangling creatures and arresting the moving parts of machines and equipment. (DC 10 + Con bonus + ½ character level to avoid entanglement or having objects coated) An object coated cannot move any moving parts, and weapons coated count as clubs for the duration. The crystals have hardness 5 and hp equal to 3 times the crystal’s level, and only last a number of round equal to the crystal’s Com modifier before liquefying. The crystal can use this ability 3 times per day.

Low Respiration: Crystal metabolism is very good at avoiding suffocation, allowing them to hold their breath for twice as long as normal before having to make constitution checks.

Technological Unfamiliarity: Due to their isolation, crystals are out of touch with the technological innovations in the universe. They take a -2 to attacks or skill checks using non-analog weapons or equipment that was not manufactured by crystal technologies, though items that use crystalline structures as part of their workings are exempt from this.

 Next is the Engi race. On the surface, these metallic beings resemble humanoid robots with forward-mounted necks and simple heads composed of a single large optical sensor. In truth, however, the engi are actually nanomachine colonies that are able to reshape themselves at will, though most of the time they prefer a humanoid form, reshaping their hands into required tools and the like from time to time. Certain engi have been seen merging with others of their kind temporarily to form larger, more complex forms when a job requires it.

In the game of FTL, Engi are masters of engineering, rapidly repairing broken systems at twice the normal rate for a crew member of their skill level. However, they are poor fighters, dealing half the normal damage. As such, they are meant to quickly move between damaged systems whenever not manning their station, and only used in combat as a last resort.

While highly robotic, engi still seem to require oxygen as part of their internal processes, so some would argue that they are closer to organic beings than machines, though it seems they occupy a place in between.

Further clouding the matter is that no one seems to know where the Engi came from or how they came about, and if the engi know, they are not telling. They seem largly incapable of emotion as many races understand it, and their speaking syntax can often seem more like coding language than actual speech, regardless of what language they are currently speaking.

Despite their alien nature, the engi are a highly reasonable race that favor a lawful intergalactic society, though they can also feign agreement with others when a deception can mean survival (as seen in the engi’s official neutral stance with the Rebel-GalFed conflict, while secretly helping the Federation).

Unfortunately, due to their lack of emotional response and skill, the engi are often considered prime targets for slavers like the mantis people. On the other hand, they get along well with the highly bureaucratic Zoltan, and with other machine intelligences like SROs and androids.

 Ability Adjustments: +2 Dex +2 Int, -2 Cha

Hit Points: 4

Size and Type: engi are medium constructs of the engi subtype. However, despite being constructs, they have a constitution score.

Racial Traits:

Efficient Repairs: Engi reduce the time to repair either objects or starship systems, picking either the Quick Patch or Quick Repair mechanic tricks as racial traits.

Mechanical Aptitude: Engi gain a +2 racial bonus to both Computers and Engineering.

Metamorphic Graspers: Engi rapidly reshape their hands to suit the job at hand, forming the exact tool needed for the job, and therefore never take penalties for lacking the right tools for a skill check.

Semi-Organic: Engi blur the line between living and mechanical, and can be healed by both positive energy effects and effects that can repair machines and equipment.

[electricea-a]

Jassi! Give us 10 Ryuji facts (or head canons) we dont know! Go go go!!

Oh gosh, no pressure! But I’ll do my best here!

I can see the sport of soccer appealing to him a lot - it’s another sport that involves a lot of running and kicking - a perfect opportunity to strengthen your legs and build up your stamina through all that running.  Maybe even learn precision if you’re the goalie.  I like to think he tried out soccer before deciding to go with track and field because above all, running is what most appealed to him.

I like to think he has a surprisingly extensive knowledge when it comes to sports injuries.  Not only from enduring one of his own but also through experience - he’s learned through trial and error, so he usually has pretty decent advice to offer if someone is struggling with an injury or a sports related issue of their own.

Given his experience with having an abusive deadbeat dad and Kamoshida, he’s pretty wary around adult males in positions of authority.  He just sort of naturally distrusts them and finds it easy to assume the worst from them because the two primary figures in his life have treated him like shit.  He’s more or less indifferent when it comes to women - it depends on how they treat him as an individual.

I like to think that his interest in manga really picked up after his injury - having to spend so many times either sitting down or taking it easy, he quickly became bored and tried to find something to occupy his imagination.  Manga became a natural fit and by extension, an escape of sorts.  Sure, he was into it as a kid but not nearly to the extent that he is now.

He’s pretty hopeless when it comes to dealing with computers - he can handle a phone and a video game console decently enough but something about computers just utterly puzzles him.  If he has the option to, he’ll happily seek out one of his more tech savvy friends for help.

I think a lot of people would expect him to prefer things that are really sugary and sweet but that only really extends to his coffee - because he finds the taste of coffee to be bland and pain.  As far as sweets go, he more leans towards treats that are salty or bitter.  Too much sugar can be a bit much for him.

He knows it’s not the healthiest but he can’t resist downing a big bottle of soda every now and again - even better if he can show off how quickly he drink it.  He almost always feels sick afterwards though.

I’ve always seen him having a certain awe and respect for Makoto for a number of reasons - a) she’s an upperclassman and the student body president, b) she’s one of the most badass fighters out of all of the Phantom Thieves and c) she can be intimidating as heck sometimes.  She is one person he does not want to piss off.

On a different note, he has a certain affection and protectiveness when it comes to Haru - given that she was one of the Thieves who arguably suffered the most, through no fault of her own.  She’s just a really sweet and nice person at her core and he hates seeing nice people have to go through so much unwarranted shit.

Outside of shipping, I would say his relationships with Futaba and Yusuke are pretty similar - he’s protective of them but in a different way from Haru.  He views them as little siblings and tries to take it upon himself to show them more of the outside world and maybe even try to broaden their horizons a bit.  Sure, sometimes he finds their quirks a little odd but if anyone ever tried to belittle or shame them for it, that person had better start running - and fast.

[houndofbel]

Re: Pan-Celtism and Celtic Descendants

Hi @aira-of-the-circle

I’m making my response in it’s own separate post as tumblr isn’t that great of a place for academic discussion, as I that’s something I prefer using the Gaulpol Discord for.

For those looking to follow the earlier part of this discussion, you can find it here:

https://aira-of-the-circle.tumblr.com/post/180820801915/once-again

Much of this confusion surrounds, the question of what exactly is a Celt? The word actually comes from ‘Keltoi’ what the Gauls called themselves, which means ‘descendants of The Hidden One’.

I understand your opinion of Celtic is that of an umbrella term for the religions/memories of religions of Celtic speaking nations and asserts that is in fact a label that exists beyond simple linguistics. I disagree, as the the Continental and Insular Celts (living in the times before, during and after the Roman occupations) actually had a super diverse ethnicity and religion, and the only thing that actually connected them was their language.

From Jean-Louis Brunaux’s Les Druides. Des philosophes chez les Barbares (French Edition):

“We wondered a lot about the reality of this little divine family. Was it conceived in this form among all Gallic peoples? The ethnic diversity of the peoples, the no less great of their political regimes and their strong particularisms make it doubtful. The Gallo-Roman epigraphic and statuary testimonies, certainly late, confirm in any case a religious geography of Gaul very contrasted if the figure of Mercury is very present at the beginning of our era in many regions of Gaul, it is often competed by Mars, Apollo, less often by Jupiter and in many cases by local or indigenous deities who do not find exact correspondent in the Roman pantheon.”

“As has been suggested above, Caesar himself could not forge this image of the Gallic gods by producing a synthesis based on the various information he could have obtained from the very mouths of Gauls encountered during his expeditions. He simply drew it from the work of Poseidonios.”

This dude is legit, as he is a researcher for CNRS and has done a bunch of excavations of Gaulish sites as part of his career.

If we think of Celtic in how archaeologists do, as an ancient people sharing a common material culture and distinctive (and cool) art style, Celtic would include the people of Central Europe (not just Gaul!) and British Isles in the late Halstatt period and all the way down to the Roman conquest, makes the argument that the Celts are dead entirely defunct because there are surviving languages, as well as material cultures.

Most Celtic scholars assign Celtic a linguistic significance for a reason. (Bettina Arnold goes over this. Her background: https://uwm.edu/anthropology/people/arnold-bettina/ as does Kim McCone, his background: https://www.amazon.com/Kim-McCone/e/B001K8513M) It’s done to eliminate the discrepancies I previously mentioned (through there are still a few issues). This means the people living in the six modern Celtic countries (Ireland, Scotland Wales, Brittany, Cornwall, and Isle of Man) or who currently speak / had ancestors who recently spoke a Celtic language are in fact Celtic. Not just Celtic either, but also the identity relating to their Celtic nation, like Gael or Cornish.

When it comes to the the past Celtic religions are inseparable and intertwined, many people see this initially and become stuck in the idea due to lack of appropriate knowledge. It ignores and dismisses the separation of each unique Celtic people by time, region, and cultural shaping events.  Basing the idea of a singular Celtic religion on a few cognate deities (some of which aren’t actually found in each Celtic speaking territory) Lugh, Llew, and Lugus come to mind but it’s important to keep in mind that Lugus isn’t actually directly attested in Gaulish speaking lands.

Are there similarities in each religion? For sure. Does that mean these unique traditions should be thrown together in a single melting pot that is Pan-Celtism? Absolutely not. 

Trying to sploosh the deities together doesn’t work. Ralph Häussler (his background: https://www.uwtsd.ac.uk/staff/ralph-häussler/) talks about Interpretatio and how complex it is among the Celtic speaking people, showing that these religions are individualized multiple levels:

https://www.academia.edu/7952176/R._Haeussler_Interpretatio_Indigena._Re-Inventing_local_cults_in_a_global_world

The thought might occur that an argument one might have for pan-celtism is how they all liked druids, so here is our boy JLB from before who talks about that in his book Celtic Gauls: Gods, Rites and Sanctuaries, specifically p. 59: “There are no grounds for maintaining that the druids, of all the peoples, held identical beliefs. Everything suggests the opposite: the diversity of pantheons and of social and political situations must have been reflected in druid philosophy and mythology. It is not even certain that druids existed everywhere. They are not mentioned in Galatia, where there is talk of priest-kings. In Cisapline, only vates are mentioned. The term druid seems to have been understood in two senses by ancient authors. One is a misleading generalization referring to priests as a whole. The other, more instructive sense only takes the category of great priests into account. In fact it is in this sense the word was used in connection with the Germans. This also seems to be suggested by the etymology of the word, if druid is derived from dru-uid, meaning 'very wise'. However, it could originally have been a term of difference by which the Celts themselves addressed these extraordinary figures. According to Caesar, druidic doctrine came from Britain. He added: 'even today those who want to study it in depth generally go to Britain for that purpose'. The last of the great druidic functions was the administration of justice. Caesar gives us an example when he says that during their great assembly at the centre of Gaul in the territory of the Carnutes, the druids arbitrated in international but also private disputes. These surely involved the most delicate matters that only affect the powerful. Minor judgements must have been given in each civitas. This justice, dispense during the greatest religious ceremony on a Pan-Gallic scale, had a preeminently ritual characters. This mixture of the sacred and the civic, which was never divided into two distinct spheres among the Celts, extended from the juridical to the legislative.The druids, as guarantors of institutions, supervised both their workings and renewal. The power meant that the druids had to be recruited almost exclusively from the nobility. Caesar tells us that many students came forward of their own accord, from personal conviction, but that many young Gauls were also sent by their families. In effect, each family wanted to keep an eye upon this body of priests and to participate in it's power through the agency of one of it's offspring. The daily life of the druids is practically unknown to us. Were they vowed to celibacy? Did they live in communities? the texts only seem to indicate that they could found a family and preserve their fortune. We only know for sure that they lived in sheltered retreat apart from the common crowd, without being disturbed either by war, work or dues of any kind. The druids had an internal hierarchy, found upon position in the curriculum of apprenticeship and later upon reputation for wisdom and personal charisma. Above them was a chief-a sort of Grand Druid- whose moral authority earned him this position. He was chosen by his peers, but sometimes there was a disagreement that might be settled by force of arms. These different bodies of priests were structured into a complex hierarchy. In fact, besides the druids, the ancient authors mention gutuatri, dates, bards, and so on. Each category occupied a position relative to the others, but it also seems that each individual had a determinate place within his category. The hierarchy, which allocated roles within ritual, shows up clearly in the different functions that the authors attributed to the druids. The druids were actually in a great variety of matters, from philosophy to sacrifice and from education to justice, and it seems hard to imagine that the same people consecrated the king and took charge of the maintenance of the sanctuary. Instead, the ancient texts give the impression of a crowd of priests sorted into grades, each of which had a determinate function. These different categories seem to have been structured and rigid, but certainly age, reputation and perhaps even political maneuvers inspired by the system of clientage permitted ascent on this hierarchical scale. Those who were not druids, but lived within their sphere of influence or were historically antecedent, surely had more flexible forms of organization. This could have taken the form of fraternities or secret societies, who initiation ceremonies served at once to give access and ensure cohesion. Social access to them was also wider. It is likely in them the plebs could find means of giving free rein to their sense of religion. It is an illusion to imagine a united druidic society - a society within a society - upon which all cult matter devolved and all of whose members had similar powers. This illusion was derived from descriptions of druidic assemblies in the forest of the Carnutes, which nineteenth-century historians wanted to interpret at the first stirrings of a nation. Instead, the situation of the priesthood was very similar to that of political forces: in full process of change in Caesar's time, it might differ in every detail from one people to another. The history of the druids closely linked with the destiny of kingship and the development of the civitas.”

So while Druids were cool, they were not central to religion, nor were they universal among the Celtic groups. 

While the Celtic religions may have sprung from a single progenitor religion, each of these traditions are separate. (Hence my interest to proto-Indo-European polytheism), but it’s fine if someone wants to take various gods from different Celtic speaking cultures and begin a new tradition with them. 

However, this does not make it ancient Celtic religions the same, or gods pan-celtic (I’m looking at you Wicca!). Additionally, I’d like to re-emphasize that Modern Celts exist, and still have their own separations. The Welsh aren’t Irish, their gods aren’t Irish, and their language isn’t Irish. 

Cheers,

Cunobelinus.

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The Best Way To PERSONAL TRAINER NEAR ME

The globe services a basis of supply as well as need. Also before money was conceived, us pesky humans would exchange products with each other. As a result, there has always been a good understanding when it concerns the worth of resources. Some might suggest that certain resources are intrinsic. This debate supports the 'Do It Yourself' agreement. Others might argue that you lots of sources are meaningless and also inefficient. They say that you just require the needs. This is the viewpoint of what culture would certainly call a minimal. Health and fitness can be quickly perceived as inherent to ones self or it could be put on the doctrine of minimalism. By applying physical fitness to either of these ideologies numerous elements of the industry would lapse and worthless.

Nonetheless, the market is not obsolete or pointless.

If you check out the appeal of physical fitness assets within contemporary society you will see the demand. For the sake of an example, allow's utilize casino poker. Once individuals see the hand, they are most likely to go all in. Fitness's habit forming nature is naturally chemical but many physical fitness products show a certain eminence. Remaining in form shows how you are wellness aware as well as more frequently that not, sexually active. These attributes are commemorated in culture. So currently we recognize the emotional and also sociological effects of the prominent health and wellness market.

Yet, there is one asset that has actually over-developed into an industry of its very own. This sector is the Personal Fitness instructor market.

It is very easy to see the appeal of being a personal trainer due to the fact that you can amalgamate your enthusiasm for physical fitness with a profitable career. There more than 800 companies across the country and also they all work for certain locations through certain bodies that award physical fitness credentials. This number shows the demand for a PT's along with a demand for health and fitness credentials.

So why do individuals desire a personal fitness instructor?

What are the advantages?

Well one of the factors that people work with personal instructors is due to the fact that they inspire you far better than you might encourage on your own. An individual trainer holds a person liable for their actions while encouraging them. They understand the psychology that it requires to accomplish your optimum health and fitness and also they will establish this understanding onto you. They will certainly additionally not enable you to cut corners and also you will see even more advantages due to this.

One more factor that individuals employ PT's is because an individual instructor gives customization. A personal fitness instructor deals with the individual as well as they will tailor a health and fitness and dietary prepare for you. Nevertheless, you have to inform your trainer what you are trying to find and the trainer will certainly tailor your sessions to ideal accomplish this. If you wish to obtain one of the most reliable exercises it is suggested that you work with a personal fitness instructor.

Personal instructors are educated experts who recognize the appropriate way to do virtually anything that relates to fitness. For example, you would reached a mechanic concerning a cars and truck similarly you reached an individual instructor regarding fitness. They understand what workout is most reliable for a specific muscular tissue groups. They likewise know just how flawlessly squat with the correct stance as well as type. Possibilities are if you are educating yourself, you are refraining from doing it properly. If you want to maximise the result of each workout, and also utilize the equipment successfully, this is another reason why people employ a health and fitness professional.

Furthermore, having a personal instructor is the fastest way to obtain results due to the fact that you will certainly be working to increase the effects of your workout. Think about your body being a task. Having a tutor will certainly enable you to complete your project and preserve a high grade. Individuals will certainly hire an individual trainer to achieve this. For example, I have actually usually serviced my body with an objective in mine. Looking back now, I was ended up before I had begun. It occupied excessive time and also I looked for anyhow to hesitate by having fun with the cover of my canteen. Nevertheless, with an individual instructor you are more probable to see outcomes much quicker than you would certainly when exercising on your lonesome.

One of one of the most unusual factors that people employ a personal trainer is as a result of safety and security. Individual instructors ensure that you are not risking of injury or injuring others. This is a significant element of an individual fitness instructors job. They need to be personal trainer at home denver pass assessments relating to health and safety before being certified by a governing body such as the Register of Exercise Professionals. You can be sure that you remain in safe hands as well as not choking under a bar after raising dual your weight because you don't understand the balance of the bar.

Finally, another reason individuals are gathering towards health and fitness professionals is due to the fact that they wish to maintain in advance of the pack. There are new ways to increase your serotonin, new ways to shop protein compounds, brand-new ways to grow your quads and brand-new ways to think of brand-new methods. Health and wellness is constantly progressing and if you have a genuine rate of interest you may be able to feed from the filter of your preferred websites and e-mail listings. People intend to create an additional understanding and stay in advance of the group, so they have a personal fitness instructor that continuously keeps on top via his reliable sources, interest and also substantial network.

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Fat Loss Vs Weight Management - What's the Difference as well as Which One is Better?

It is essential to know healthy weight management facts. It can sometimes be hard to inform what is genuine from what is phony. I have actually had customers who have, in the past, invested lots of hundreds of bucks on what can just be called fat burning frauds. Weight loss and fat loss is a MULTI-BILLION dollar industry. In the USA alone, this market is estimated to be worth over 100 Billion United States dollars in the year 2007. That is one nation, in one year! The fact is, the fat burning and fat loss market is so unbelievably substantial, that it is possible to be successful by merely marketing a fraud as well as leaving a clients or customer disappointed, dismayed, distressed and also worst of all ... as well afraid to attempt once again. Hence darning them to a life of bad health and also low quality. So what is it regarding fat loss vs weight reduction? If you look for either of these terms in an on-line search engine, you will certainly obtain millions of hits. Numerous from the exact same sites. It may seem somewhat obvious to some, however fat loss and weight loss are not the same. I claim that I can aid an individual "reduce weight" just because weight reduction is what many people frequently request and it is a term they conveniently recognize. However as quickly as I obtain the opportunity, I inform them that FAT LOSS is the crucial concern not fat burning. As soon as you start checking out the write-ups on this website, it will end up being really clear that I do not in fact respect weight-loss. Why is this so? Fat Loss vs Weight-loss: Round 1 Weight loss simply indicates "being lighter on the evaluating scale" (scale weight). While it holds true that obese people do have a tendency to carry a lot of fat, we can not just take into consideration "scale weight" when we established objectives for ourselves. I do not care that much concerning my client's range weight. I could not care less if they lost 30 pounds. 20 or 40 or perhaps NONE would certainly have been fine too. Why is that? The simplest means I clarify it to people is as complies with: You see, most of us intend to look excellent and also do well, whether in daily jobs, or as a professional athlete who requires to manage their very own body to play a sporting activity well. In general, this means having a lot more muscle mass and also much less fat. Fat does not help us in all in a lot of sporting activities, muscles do. Fat doesn't look good on our hips, upper legs or tummies, muscle mass do. Fat Loss vs Weight-loss: Round 2 Generally nearly all of us need to gain some muscle mass and also shed some fat to reach our health and fitness goals. Right here is where range weight is available in. Muscle mass have a large amount of water in them. Fats well ... they are fats. Have you ever seen oil (fats) and also water (muscle mass) in the exact same glass? Which one drifts? Yup it's the oil. Oil is less dense that water. It occupies less area. Fat has to do with 20% much less thick than muscle (0.9 g/ml vs 1.1 g/ml) if you intend to be calculative regarding it. Fat Loss vs Weight-loss: Round 3 In practice all this implies that if you are adhering to a good exercise as well as diet regimen plan, you can obtain muscle mass and also lose fat at the very same time. The increased muscular tissues will balance out the "weight loss" from the reduced fat causing a "disappointing" change in scale weight. This can be preventing yet in truth it's terrific news! So if range weight does not issue, what after that should we search for to inspect our progress? I try to find 2 things. Look: This can be easily seen: "hey my arms don't jiggle when I wave at my pals". Conveniently touched: "wow my stomach feels a great deal stronger now". As well as modifications quickly determined by means of fat measuring calipers. Seeing as well as touching suffices for lots of people to discover progress. Calipers simply offer a more consistent method to quantify it. Efficiency: Basically, you can do more relative to your bodyweight if you are not lugging a lot of fat around. An example is the chin-up. The chin-up exercise is all about strength to weight ratio. Fat does not aid in all. If a person increases his/her ability to raise their bodyweight, we can be rather certain that they have acquired some muscle as well as possibly shed some fat. the fat decimator system review vs Weight-loss: Round 4 Culture as a whole needs to get off the "fat burning" bandwagon as well as onto the "fat loss" one. Eating problems, fad diets as well as slendering centers concentrate on fat burning. Yet typically the high quality of their nourishment is skeptical, and also they do not do ANY proper training so most of the weight-loss is muscle. It's even revealed that when we take place a lousy weight-loss plan, to body PREFERS to lose muscle mass weight rather than fat weight because its biologically reliable to do so. It's a never ever ending cycle: Customer comes in-- > Customer uses scam item-- > Client accomplishes weight reduction (yet this is in fact muscle loss)-- > Customer's reduced quantity of muscle implies lower calories scorched per day thus making fat gain simpler-- > Customer goes back to his/her normal way of living and now that they utilize also less calories because of the muscle mass loss from the bad item-- > Customer gets fatter than ever-- > Customer returns to the slendering center or crash diet-- > Underhanded makers of bad products/services have a never ever ending supply of "pleased" customers Fat Loss VS Fat Burning: CLEAR VICTOR! Fat loss is king. So remember, if you are looking better as well as doing better, you are on the right track. Allow the range weight fall where it may, it really doesn't matter due to the fact that we are going with efficiency and appearance.