#but now the brain is taking it a step further and comparing ourselves to other BETTER fics????

[mochiwrites]

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[nookflex]

Elaborate Website Blog

Bringing New Information to the Table: A Deep Dive into the World of Hard Facts and Concrete Data

Greetings, fellow knowledge seekers! Are you ready to embark on a journey of discovery? Get ready to have your mind blown with an abundance of new, polarizing, numerical, objective, and informative hard facts. Today, we are delving deep into the realm of concrete data, uncovering the truths that lie hidden beneath the surface. Join us as we explore the practical applications and real-world implications of these fascinating findings.

But first, allow us to introduce ourselves. We are NookFlex, an innovative technology company specializing in electronics. Our main goal is to fuel digital growth, and what better way to achieve that than by sharing enlightening, thought-provoking content? So, without further ado, let's dive right in!

Chapter 1: The Power of Numbers

Numbers have a unique ability to provide us with clarity and understanding, cutting through the noise and revealing the truth. Whether it's statistics, measurements, or calculations, it is through numbers that we can truly grasp the essence of a subject. Let's explore some fascinating examples:

In the year 2020 alone, the global online retail market reached an astounding $3.53 trillion, marking a significant increase compared to previous years.

A recent study conducted by scientists at the University of Oxford found that meditation can lead to a 10% increase in focus and productivity.

The average human brain contains approximately 86 billion neurons, each forming intricate connections with thousands of other neurons.

According to NASA, the average surface temperature of the Earth has increased by 1.8 degrees Fahrenheit over the past century.

In the field of quantum computing, researchers have successfully achieved quantum entanglement between particles over distances exceeding 50 kilometers.

These numbers are just a glimpse into the vast universe of hard data that awaits us. Prepare to be amazed as we uncover more fascinating facts in the chapters to come.

Chapter 2: The Convergence of Science and Technology

Science and technology have always been intertwined, driving innovation and pushing the boundaries of what is possible. In this chapter, we will explore some cutting-edge advancements that are shaping the world as we know it:

1. Artificial Intelligence (AI): With recent breakthroughs in machine learning algorithms, AI has become increasingly capable of performing complex tasks that were once thought to be exclusive to humans. From autonomous vehicles to medical diagnosis, AI is revolutionizing various industries.

2. Genetic Engineering: Thanks to advancements in genetic engineering techniques such as CRISPR-Cas9, scientists can now edit DNA with unprecedented precision. This technology has the potential to cure genetic diseases, enhance crop yields, and even bring extinct species back to life.

3. Quantum Computing: Quantum computers harness the principles of quantum mechanics to perform calculations exponentially faster than classical computers. This technology has the potential to revolutionize fields such as cryptography, drug discovery, and weather forecasting.

4. Renewable Energy: As the world grapples with the challenges of climate change, renewable energy sources are gaining momentum. The efficiency and affordability of solar and wind power have improved significantly in recent years, making them viable alternatives to fossil fuels.

These examples are just the tip of the iceberg in terms of how science and technology are reshaping our world. The possibilities are endless, and it is through hard data and concrete facts that we can fully comprehend the magnitude of these advancements.

Chapter 3: The Impact on Everyday Life

Now that we have explored the world of hard facts and concrete data, it's time to take a step back and reflect on the real-world applications of this information. How does it affect our daily lives, and why should it matter to us?

1. Health and Wellness: The advancements in medical technology and research have led to improved healthcare outcomes, longer life expectancy, and a better understanding of diseases. From personalized medicine to wearable devices that track our health, science and technology are helping us live healthier and more fulfilling lives.

2. Environmental Sustainability: The data-driven approach to addressing climate change and promoting sustainability is crucial for ensuring a habitable planet for future generations. By understanding the impact of our actions through data, we can make informed decisions and work towards a brighter future.

3. Economic Growth: The convergence of science and technology has the potential to drive economic growth and create new job opportunities. From the rise of the gig economy to the development of new industries, such as space tourism, innovation fueled by hard data is instrumental in shaping our economic landscape.

By actively engaging with this information, we can become empowered individuals, capable of making informed decisions in our personal and professional lives. So, dear reader, we invite you to take an active role in this journey of discovery. Embrace the power of hard facts and concrete data, and let it guide you towards a brighter future.

In Conclusion: Reflecting on Our Journey

As we bring this elaborate website blog to a close, we hope that it has provided you with valuable insights and sparked your curiosity about the world of hard facts and concrete data. From the power of numbers to the convergence of science and technology, we have explored the vast realm of knowledge that awaits us.

Now, it's your turn to take the next step. How will you harness the power of hard facts and concrete data in your own life? Will you seek out new information, challenge existing beliefs, and make data-driven decisions? The choice is yours.

At NookFlex, we believe in the transformative power of technology and the importance of staying informed. As an innovative technology company, we strive to provide cutting-edge solutions that fuel digital growth. So, if you're ready to embark on a new adventure, explore our website [https://nookflex.firmx.co] for the latest in electronics and technological advancements.

Thank you for joining us on this journey. Remember, the world of hard facts and concrete data is always evolving. Embrace the power of knowledge and never stop exploring.

[natural-absurdity]

The Abstract Mind

The big question that many seem to have when it comes to inquiry into our existence, human existence, is obvious-- "why?" Why do we exist, why do we experience, why did we happen to find ourselves on the pale blue dot zipping through spacetime. I may or may not elaborate on my thoughts regarding the matter in the future, but to be frank in the immediate term, I would immediately classify the answers to such questions as having undefined behavior, in a mathematical sense, absurd in a philosophical sense. In other words, these questions are out of scope, with conclusions (or alternatively, bases) that can only be nonsensical e.g. "there must be a God that defined some Purpose" -- an assumption, false to any reasonable degree, on which premise people deign to believe logical answers can be derived. The belief in some deity, any deity, that defies naturalist philosophy is statistically more improbable than a Boltzmann universe-- and frankly, Boltzmann brains themselves are improbable to such a degree that they ought not be considered in any logical discussion pertaining to real nature.

Okay, that's out of the way. So we can proceed to a better question, then, which would be "how?" -- or maybe, more appropriately, "where?" -- that is, where do our experiences lie, in the framework stack that is our individual being? Does free will exist, and how do we phrase "experience" such that it makes sense within our linguistic framework? Do souls exist, do minds exist? Is there a fundamental difference between mind and matter?

I tend to think that these questions are less complicated than they appear to be, and that we're so close to these issues that often our intuition can cloud our logic. For this, let's set quantum theories aside (for we aren't, right now, concerned with improbable happenings or the after-effects of quantum foam), let's assume that Laplace's demon has some hold over the universe, and let's go one step further and assert that we, as individuals in this universe, also follow a deterministic ruleset. If our brains are but state machines, then it would follow that the current state would be what we would call our mind. In daring to be a little more loose with terminology, changing one's mind is a very real and constant thing. So then, are we then expressing a dualistic philosophy? Well, no-- we're not asserting that the mind is separate, rather, that the mind exists at a level of abstraction higher than the brain, and only describes the state that the brain is currently in. A (perhaps poor) analogy would be to compare this to an Etch A Sketch-- the device acting as the brain, the user acting as neurotransmitters, chemicals, other very real influences. In this case the mind is the drawing that is produced. Such a drawing is produced only through the brain and through the manipulations of the brain-- the drawing does not exist elsewhere; copies may theoretically exist elsewhere, but they are certainly not that specific instance of the drawing.

Fine then, are we asserting that mind and matter are the same thing? Well, to a degree yes, but the distinction here is that we are explicitly defining a layer of abstraction that exists only to make it easier for us to conceptualize and describe linguistically. Again with the Etch A Sketch analogy, we wouldn't necessarily call the drawing and the device the "same thing"-- but in reality, they are, and the only difference is that we've made abstract the drawing itself conceptually.

Good, so then what is a soul? Well, historically (through fiction, through religion, through other literature, but not necessarily in a scientific fashion) we've considered a soul to be one's entire being. To create an analogous representation with the above philosophical take, one could say that a soul is but the evolution of the mind over time. Remember, time is a very real thing, a component of spacetime with all points being equally real-- and therefore, a soul might be simply be the description of the mind at all possible points of its existence. In this case, it isn't some supernatural phenomenon that can be separated from the mind or body, but is rather yet another description of the mind's relationship to the body.

Free will can be described in a similar fashion, so long as one is willing to make abstract certain descriptions. Again, historically, the concept of free will has been absolute in nature-- either we have free will, or we don't. And again, this is a particularly silly viewpoint-- it's not helpful for us to define a lack of free will (for the purposes of its application to the legal system), and to assert that we do have free will in entirety requires the assumption that there are other forces at work other than the ones in nature (and becomes problematic in its application to mental health). It is more appropriate, then, to define free will at various layers of abstraction. Do we have the ability to control our actions at a chemical level? Well, no-- and in fact, that very question may be absurd in and of itself. The very concept of we exists at a layer that is higher than individual chemical interactions. But if we treat biology as a black box and make abstract the mind, do we as an entity have the ability to make decisions? Absolutely.

Then, how do we exist? Not in a scientific way (for we've established the layers of abstraction to some degree, and the rest is left to neuroscience), but in a manner that would be useful for us to express? And that, friends, is something I'm still working on, something left to think about, because at this point in time I can describe, loosely, the mechanisms that support the mind but I cannot describe accurately how that translates into my actual perception.

[stapap]

The joy of missing out

Upon scrolling through my Instagram account, I see posts from a business site about robotic fuel pumps, an advertisement from an internet provider, a story from a Greek news site about Google's artificial intelligence writer, football (soccer) related posts from coaches I follow, funny dog videos, more advertising for internet providers, etc. I got a bunch of random and incoherent facts about the internet, business, sports, and dogs from just a 3" scroll. How did I feel after viewing that? Immediately hooked and eager to scroll further until I find something more satisfying. Scrolling down the abyss made me feel more helpless and anxious. Is there an antidote to it?

Information like this would satisfy some people's desire to "be informed," or to put it another way, "be aware" of what is going on elsewhere. A small amount of FOMO could be relieved in three seconds. FOMO, or fear of missing out is the punchline of social media not missing anything. It is a feeling of anxiety that comes from the fear of not being included or left out of something. FOMO is often associated with social media, where people fear that they are not experiencing the same things as their peers or not participating in the same activities.

FOMO is one of the reasons why people join and maintain social media accounts. As with drag users, social media users become obsessed with checking what's going on. We don't want to miss an announcement, a news headline, a trend, a dance, a challenge, and anything else that usually adds no value to someone's life. As we try to catch up with what we are missing out on, we can experience feelings of inadequacy, anxiety, depression, and irrational behavior. As a result, we may compare ourselves to others and feel jealous, as well as feeling overwhelmed and unable to keep up with life's pace.

What's the answer to FOMO? JOMO is an acronym coined by entrepreneur Anil Dash to refer to the joy of missing out. Taking a break from social media allows us to disconnect from the noise and distractions. By creating a space to take care of ourselves, we can enjoy the things we truly value, rather than being caught up in the fear of missing out on something. Kristen Fuller writes in Psychology Today that JOMO is an emotional intelligence antidote to FOMO. Rather than comparing our lives to others, we should focus on tuning out the background noise of "shoulds" and "wants" and letting go of concerns about what we are doing wrong.

What can we do to embrace JOMO? Don't live in the lives of others. Give yourself “tech-free breaks,” and permission to acknowledge your emotions. We can find happiness by being who we are now instead of trying to "keep up with the Joneses". Once our brain is free of competitive and anxious thoughts, we have more energy, time, and confidence to accomplish our true priorities. Spend time with people who support and uplift us, rather than criticize us for not living up to societal standards. Take time to appreciate the simple pleasures of life, such as an enjoyable walk, a cup of tea or a good book. Don't be afraid to take a break from technology; you will survive. All of these steps can help us let go of the need to compare ourselves to others, allowing us to truly embrace the joy of missing out.

As a final note, I will quote Australian cartoonist Michael Leunig's poem:

“Oh the joy of missing out.

When the world begins to shout

And rush towards that shining thing;

The latest bit of mental bling–

Trying to have it, see it, do it,

You simply know you won't go through it;

The anxious clamoring and need

This restless hungry thing to feed.

Instead, you feel the loveliness;

The pleasure of your emptiness.

You spurn the treasure on the shelf

In favor of your peaceful self;

Without regret, without a doubt.

Oh the joy of missing out”

Photo by Isaac Li Shung Tan on Unsplash

[folkloreguk]

❥ My Sweet Evil Heart (C.Chanhee)

A/N: I wrote this as part of an angel/demon collab for The Boyz! You can find the masterlist HERE. This was really fun to write and I got to live out my alternate universe dream in which I'm a detective...I hope you like it, I'm always welcome to any form of feedback!

genre: demon!Chanhee, detective!reader, angst, fluff, reader is constantly sleep deprived, Chanhee is the sweetest demon ever

synopsis: You, a highly respected detective in your department, are investigating a case of a very strange demon who seems hesitant to do evil...but can you trust someone who is supposed to be the personification of wickedness?

words: ~ 10.6k

Have you ever met someone deeply unhappy? Someone who seems to, at all times, be fighting a war inside of themselves? Have you ever felt empathy for somebody, even though they tested you, over and over, as if the worst part inside of them was trying to make them lose you on purpose? Did you hold on and never stop believing in them? Or did you say something to drive them away, making them think they would only hurt you in the process of you trying to make them see clearer?

This is the story of a demon, whose every cell demurred at his evil nature. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves and start with the basics.

Being one of the head detectives at the local police station was not an easy-going, nor an amusing job. Whilst working on serious cases, lacking proper sleep was not an uncommon occurrence for you, and in some instances, self-care came up short until the mystery had been solved and the guilty ones were locked away. Every case pulled you in and swallowed you whole, keeping you deeply invested for days and nights until your brain felt like it had turned to mush and your body worked on autopilot, until you functioned a little like a highly intelligent zombie. And yet, you couldn’t imagine yourself doing anything else in your life. The thrill was close to an obsession, and seeing justice being served thanks to your work was more addicting than any drug could ever be to you.

Most crimes in your world were committed by demons, of course. They were your worst enemies, the monsters you saw in your nightmares and the reason you never strolled down a street without a gun by your hip. It wasn’t forbidden for them to walk the earth, so long as they kept to themselves. Their evil nature made it almost impossible for them to uphold these terms, though. You wished you could lock them all away in some putrid prison cell, or better yet, send them back to where they crawled out from originally. But the law couldn’t convict beings before they had done anything wrong. So, it was on you to make sure you kept an eye on the sinister beings, figure out what they were up to and stop them before they could actually hurt somebody. Like that morning, when you were called to a liquor store to investigate a break-in.

“My name is Y/F/N Y/L/N, I am the lead investigator,” you greeted the store owner with a handshake upon arrival. “Can you tell me exactly what happened?”

“I came here this morning at around 7 to open up the store. When I got out of my car, I saw the broken glass of the window,” he explained.

“What was taken from inside the store?” you inquired further.

“That’s the weird thing. Nothing is missing from inside,” he said.

“We might just be dealing with vandalism,” you thought out loud. “Do you have security cameras?”

He did, and so you went along with him to the back of the store. It was true, the interior of the shop seemed completely untouched. You suspected whoever had done this had never even intentioned on entering. There was a college campus not too far from the store, and you recalled countless times you had witnessed careless vandalism done by some intoxicated students during a Friday night. It was a very human-like crime. Demons weren’t known to do things by halves. Their crimes were usually the go-big-or-go-home-type of crimes. But then, when you watched the security footage, you were stunned.

At precisely 3:29 am, a dark figure appeared in front of the window. They lifted their arms, swinging a baseball bat against the glass. And against your speculation, they did climb through the hole in the window. With no mask or disguise whatsoever, the demon man looked right into the camera in the corner of the room. The abyss of darkness in his pitch black eyes was unmistakable. He looked around, as if he was debating on whether he should have done more, but then, to your utter confusion, spun around on his heel and climbed right back out the window.

You assured the store owner you would be looking into this case. With nothing left to do, you headed back to the police station. You had taken the security footage with you, and the moment you arrived in your office, you played it on your computer screen. Over and over - only puzzling you more, with each rerun you saw. You worried this might only be a warning. Not seldom had you been a witness to demons playing with their prey, feeding off the fear of innocent souls. Was this one indulging in one of those little twisted games? Right away, you uploaded the demon’s face onto the database for criminals, even if vandalism didn’t compare to the serious allegations that stood against other faces on that list. While you turned your attention to other cases, his features wouldn’t leave your mind. Even when you left your office at night, he was still the most prominent person in your memory.

By the time you began your walk to your home, the sun had disappeared. You couldn’t help it, even if technically you could finish work earlier, your desire to solve your assigned cases was always higher. Had you just walked home at 5 pm, you were sure to end up on your computer at home, researching and digging around on the web to discover possible clues. This way, at least you had all resources you would need at your office at the police station.

Now, in the dark, the streets were rather abandoned, most shops had already closed, and the moon dimly cast light through the clouds. Those conditions were what made it a breeze for you to notice your shadow. The figure had been following you for 5 minutes now. Judging by how carelessly loud their steps sounded and by their not-so subtle choices of hiding spots, you could tell this wasn’t something they had practice in. Purposely, you didn’t turn around, so they wouldn’t realize you had caught on to them a while ago. Instead, only a minute or so from your home, you took a turn left into an abandoned alleyway. Your hand was on the gun in your belt.

Just as you had stepped into the alley, you turned. He was right behind you. With dark orbs glaring and teeth snarling he came at you, knife in hand. Your eyes widened – you recalled his face vividly – as you took in the situation in the blink of an eye. After all, you had watched the security tape of him breaking into the liquor store countless times only hours ago. But you had the upper hand from the very moment you had spun around. His build wasn’t particularly strong, but you knew you should never underestimate demons. You grabbed his shoulders and along with him, your body crashed against the red brick wall to your left. He struggled against your grip, but his determined and feisty expression was the by far the most intimidating part about him. His face was inches from yours but looking into the sort of darkness that were demon’s eyes did nothing to you. Your hand was around his wrist with the knife – which he was aggressively trying to bring down on you – but only at first.

Because suddenly, something uncommon occurred. So uncommon, in fact, that not a single cell in your body could believe it. He willingly dropped the blade. It hit the asphalt, the metallic sound echoing in your ears. He relaxed his arm in your iron grip. Demons never gave up. They fought until you had forcefully brought them to the ground or done worse to them. Their ironic god-complex and evilness didn’t allow them to step away from a fight – until this one had come along, apparently. And then, as if his behavior hadn’t already stunned you enough, he did the unthinkable.

“I’m sorry,” he said. Without a doubt you thought you had misheard him. Swiftly, you pulled your gun out of your belt and pointed it at his face. One thing you knew. You weren’t going to play along in his little games. In panic, he rose his hands, showing defeat.

“Quit playing games, devil’s son,” you hissed. “What is it you’re trying to achieve here? You’re sorry? For what?”

He was hesitant. With every second, your curiosity only grew. Either, he was a skilled actor or…you had no idea what else it could’ve been about him.

“I almost killed you. That’s what I’m sorry for,” he said. “Does that get me a prison sentence?”

Your eye twitched because this didn’t seem right at all.

“You broke into a shop and attacked me, but then stopped out of your free will,” you assessed the situation. “You’ll most likely get away with a fine and your name in our register.”

If you had been awaiting an evil grin or any sort of enjoyment in his face, you’d be waiting endlessly. If anything, he seemed to be…disappointed?

“But you’re a cop, right?” he said. “You can lock me up, can’t you?”

“Didn’t you hear what I said? You won’t be locked up if you don’t commit a crime severe enough. As much as I hate it, considering you demons are running free, it’s the law,” you said.

“You don’t get it,” he said. And he was right, you really had no idea. “I should be locked up. You need to get me to jail before I hurt somebody.”

His face was dead serious, but you didn’t want to believe a single word. How could you, when your daily life consisted of hunting down his kind, because all they brought upon the earth was chaos and death?

“Give me one good reason why I should believe you,” you said, unimpressed.

“I will tell you anything you want to hear,” he said. “If you bring me to a police station. You guys have these lie detectors, don’t you? I will take a test if that’s what it takes for you to believe me.”

~

So, that was how half an hour later you still hadn’t returned at home, but rather found yourself back at the police station. Almost everyone had gone home by now, so you took the liberty to choose the biggest interrogation room available. A few minutes and he was sitting in front of you, hands in handcuffs and his body connected to the lie detector.

“Okay, here’s how this works. I’ll start by asking some simple questions, and then we’ll get to the bottom of whatever your intentions are,” you explained.

“Alright. Go ahead,” he said. This was your first time seeing a demon take this sort of test. Usually, you couldn’t be bothered because you knew all they did was lie whilst smiling you in the face.

“What’s your name?”

“Choi Chanhee.”

“Where were you born?”

“In hell.”

“Did you break into a liquor store last night?”

“Yes.”

“Did you intend on killing me tonight?”

“…Yes.”

“Is that your definite answer?”

“…No.”

“How come both of your last two answers are lies?” you asked. “You didn’t intend on killing me, but yes is your definite answer?”

“I can’t stop the evil in me but I’m trying,” he said. You were stunned. The answer was the most truthful of them all.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“I was never like the others since I came to earth. I’ve never felt a rush like they do, causing mischief and hurting humans. I don’t belong. It’s as if there was a demon inside of me, but it’s not controlling all of me, do you understand?” he said.

“I’m not sure, but go on,” you said.

“I don’t want to hurt anybody or destroy things. But on some days, I’m walking down the street and my body starts following the devil’s orders instead. I usually snap out of it quickly and stop myself. That’s why you’re still alive,” he explained.

“You’re telling me you’re some sort of good demon?” you asked. “Why don’t you go back to hell, if you’re struggling so much on earth?”

“I hate it there,” he said. “And either way, I’m banned from there forever.”

Your head raised as you stared at him.

“Banned?” you asked.

“I stopped a bunch of demons from killing a woman once,” he said. “Safe to say they weren’t happy to hear that, back at home. I couldn’t go back, even if I wanted to.”

“Can you tell me the name of the woman?” you asked. And he did. All this time, he really had been telling the truth. When you searched up the woman’s name in the computer, it only confirmed your suspicion. She really had been under attack when an unidentified person had interrupted and saved her life.

“I can tell you names of demons,” he said. “If you do me the favor of locking me up, I can sell out everyone I know about.”

You massaged the sides of your head and sighed. This guy really was one of a kind.

“I already told you, I can’t put you in jail for something you didn’t do,” you said. “That’s against the law, and then it’ll be me who ends up behind bars instead of you. I’ll have to let you go.”

“What if I mess up?” he said. The amounts of firsts you were experiencing in the timespan of an hour were giving you a headache. Never had you felt compassion for a demon before. But you were only human, and when you noticed the genuine concern and insecurity in his soft voice, you couldn’t stop yourself.

“How long have you been on earth for?” you asked.

“I don’t know, a few years, I guess?” he said.

“And in those few years, which of your deeds would you rate the most criminal out of all?” you asked. Any other demon would have been able to give you multiple answers, one more vicious than the other. He, on the other hand, took his time and even when he answered, he didn’t sound at all sure.

“I’ve broken into a house before, destroyed a car window and one time I stole a dog,” he confessed with his head tilted towards the floor.

“What happened to the dog?”

“I…gave it back,” he said. A laughter erupted from your throat against your will. In a friendly manner, you pat his shoulder before retrieving the keys to his handcuffs.

“Trust me, you’ll be just fine out there,” you said. “Whatever it is you’re doing to stop yourself from being evil, it’s working. I will let you go now."

Even though he wasn’t happy with your answer, he knew he had no choice but to comply. As you walked him through the hallways towards the exit of the station, you could only think of one thing: your beloved bed. Not only your body but especially your brain was drained from energy. You desperately needed a refill by getting a good night’s sleep.

“You’re the first person who’s been really kind to me,” he said, as you held the door open for him. The night air was cool, and you quickly zipped up your jacket to your chin.

“You gave me no reason not to be,” you replied.

“I almost stabbed you,” he said, bluntly.

“Almost.”

“For most people, me being a demon is reason enough to loathe me.”

“Well I guess I’m not most people,” you said. His smile was gentle, but his black eyes would always give him away. “I’ll be here at the station every day, if you have any concerns or need somebody to consult. But right now, all I want is my bed.”

“I understand,” he replied. “Thank you. Goodbye.”

“Good night,” you said, before you parted ways. Once more, you journeyed home. He remained on your mind until the moment you slipped off to dreamland that night.

~

The days passed without a trace of him. You followed your routine, but one thing you couldn’t help. You simply had to tell every person who worked with you about the changed demon you had met. No one really wanted to believe you. It was kind of understandable. Some thought you were testing their skills, seeing if they could figure out you were lying. Others went as far as to suspect your lack of sleep had given you hallucinations. But you didn’t let it go. And after all, you were a highly respected member of the police force. Some said they wanted to meet this demon gentleman, as they had renamed him.

But then you were called to a brand new homicide investigation and all of the jokes at the station were blown away by the intensity and buzz the case brought with it. You had a murder to solve. There was no place for sweet demon men in any part of your brain. Not for now. And as always, you slipped into old habits – staying up all night, living on coffee and quick meals – the toxic behavior was almost inescapable. Your fellow detectives tried their best to keep you healthy and most importantly, sane. They took you with them to get salad for lunch, invited you over for game nights (a futile attempt at giving you a break) and told you to go to sleep on time. After all, they needed your brain to function at full capacity for the case. You knew people were relying on your knowledge, and you weren’t doubting your capabilities. But a highly intelligent zombie was still a zombie. And so it happened that one Thursday night your boss sent you home. Not because you weren’t doing a good job – rather for of the opposite reason.

“You are allowed back at the station when you’ve caught a full night’s sleep. Do what it takes to take care of yourself,” your boss had said. Her tone displayed as much strictness as her eyes showed concern. Truth be told, you were too exhausted to even argue against her order. That’s when you knew. You really needed a rest. You dragged your body home.

“Hello sweetheart,” you greeted your pet bird, who chirped excitedly when you set foot into your apartment. “Guess what. I’m home early.”

As much as you wanted to drop into a slumber right away, your stomach growled. And you weren’t in the mood to wake up half-starved. As you prepared some left-overs from the fridge, you heard your bird call from the living room. “Peek-a-boo!” he sang. It caught your attention. He only played this game with you – when you were outside in your small garden and he was watching you through the window. So who exactly was he talking to, now?

You picked up a knife, because as a detective it was practically your job to be paranoid, and tiptoed into the living room. It would be harder for an intruder to spot you in the dark, so you pushed the light switch. Slowly, you advanced to the window and gently pulled the curtains aside. A shiver ran down your spine when you saw the figure standing between the trees. They didn’t seem to be hiding, if anything they were lazily resting their back against the garden fence. Maybe they weren’t aware you were watching them. Bold of them to assume they could intimidate you by acting so nonchalant. You cracked the window open slightly.

“If you don’t leave my property within the next ten seconds, I’ll have you arrested for trespassing,” you announced. The figure flinched. The moment he stepped into the moonlight and raised his arms, you remembered his face.

“Choi Chanhee?” You opened the terrasse door and stepped outside.

“Are you going to hurt me?” he asked, eyes glued to the knife in your hands. Quickly, you lowered your hand.

“What are you doing here?” you asked instead of answering his question.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” he admitted.

“And so you thought creeping around in a police woman’s backyard was an appropriate thing to do? Wait…have you been stalking me?” you asked. You should have cut back on the sharp tone, but you felt half-asleep and this was the last thing you needed. Plus, the immanent realization hit you, that you had not noticed him at all. You had been so caught up in your work that you had not recognized a demon lingering around your home address, watching you. It hurt your pride a little – and could have ended very differently, had it been a more malovent demon than the one standing in front of you. This one looked terrified, kneading his hands nervously.

“I thought you wouldn’t be upset with me…that maybe you would understand. Because you’ve been the only one who’s listened to me. I’m just trying to find a purpose,” he said, “And my head tells me you’re the right direction.”

Demons. They’ve always had a fondness for the dramatic. But his words tore at your heart strings. His behavior resembled a child who had done wrong and was in the process of being scolded.

“Do you have no home?” you asked, softening your voice.

“I’ve lived with other demons. But they don’t want me there, anymore,” he said. For obvious reasons, you thought. Your head was racing. There was no way you could leave him standing there in the cold. But letting a demon into your home sounded like you must have had a death wish. It’s not like you didn’t have enough space, though. With an extra guest bedroom that nobody had ever used before, he would be just fine. There was no excuse. You cursed your parents for making you get a bigger apartment “In case you got married and had children soon.” You never know what could happen, they had said. And how wrong they had been, but how right they had been on that last part.

“Would you say you’re a tidy person?” you asked. A gigantic yawn came over you, and once again your stomach grumbled.

“What? I mean…I think so?” he said.

“Are you hungry?” You were in disbelief. Maybe it was the zombie in you that had a heart so soft, it took pity on a demon.

“I’m starving,” he said.

And that was how you came to have dinner with a demon. Spoiler alert: It wouldn’t be the last time. You ate quietly, trying hard to fight tiredness but it was no use. Afterwards, you showed him the room he could stay in.

“How do I make this up to you?” he asked.

“We’ll think about that another time, alright?” you said, “I need to sleep now. I’ve got an unsolved murder case waiting on me tomorrow.”

That night, you locked your bedroom door and slept with your gun on your nightstand. Just in case. Even though you were almost fully convinced the demon in the bedroom across the hall was more harmless than a five-year-old, he was still a demon.

~

When you woke up and saw your boss’ message on your phone, you couldn’t believe it. She wanted you to stay at home for the day. Apparently, you needed the rest and she had no interest in getting into trouble for overworking you (which she obviously wasn’t, you were the one doing this to yourself). When you walked down the stairs, you had almost forgotten about the previous night. It felt a little like it had all just been one wild fever dream – that was, until you spotted the demon sitting on your sofa, your pet bird on his shoulder.

“I let him out, I hope that was okay,” he said. You were dumbfounded. “Listen, I just wanted to say…thank you. Tell me whatever you need me to do and I’ll get it done for you.”

You wanted to go to work. But you knew he would be no help making that possible. Your mind was already wandering off to your case, the tips of your fingers burning with anticipation to search the internet for clues. Your grumbling belly interrupted your eagerness.

“Um…you could go to the grocery store for me?” you asked.

~

You went back to work the next day. Unsure of what to do, you decided to keep your demon housemate a secret for now. The other detectives would have probably written you off as insane, and you needed them to take you seriously. To be fair, maybe you were a little crazy. But he had been really good on the first day. Only one incident, which involved him dropping an egg on the kitchen floor, stood out to you. Of course, that could happen to anyone. But any other person would not have apologized in the way that he did. Normal people wouldn’t have acted so guilty, had it been an accident. But as long as his malice remained to that extent, you could live with it. You almost laughed at the idea of him purposely watching the egg roll off the counter and not doing anything.

He sure was strange. But little did you know, his egg-dropping shananigans were only the beginning of his uncontrollable little pranks he would pull on you.

Once he let your bird fly out the window. When you came home you discovered him outside, talking to your bird, begging him to come back inside. Little did he know, all it took was a whistle and a few treats and you had him sitting on your shoulder, ready to go back inside. One night you returned home to find him staring at the ceiling in the dining room, a kitchen towel in his hand. When you asked him what he was trying to achieve there, he told you there was a mosquito sitting above him.

“So, why don’t you kill it?” you asked. He looked shocked.

“Kill it?” he asked, “We should probably just shoo it outside.”

That’s when you knew. Choi Chanhee wouldn’t hurt a fly. Literally. All those times you had worried about leaving him home alone with your bird vanished in an instant as you laughed.

“You’re right. Killing is one of the worst sins. But sometimes, especially when it comes to mosquitoes, you don’t need to worry about any consequences. If anything, I’ll be grateful,” you assured him.

Another instance made you think maybe you had been too quick to judge him as harmless. When you walked into your bathroom in the morning, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you almost jumped out of your skin. A red substance stuck to your mirror in what seemed to be random shapes. On impulse, you called his name. On second look, you realized what he had done. The red was merely ketchup, and the random shapes weren’t so random, but they spelled “meeting at 2 pm”. When Chanhee appeared in the doorframe, he already wore his sorry expression.

“What did you think you were doing here?” you said. “You know where the post-it notes are!”

“I- He- The demon in me wanted to scare you…I’m so sorry,” he said. It was difficult to be mad at him when he was so sweet. You had, after all, told him to remind you of your meeting you had that day. He was so easy to forgive, too. Whenever he went to buy groceries, he returned with a bouquet of flowers, and after he had figured out your favorite candy, he made sure you never ran out of your supply. You liked being alone, but suddenly it felt nice to have someone waiting for you at home. A warm sensation filled your heart whenever he asked you about your day during dinner.

Even if after dinner you had to argue with him as if he was your son, because the demon in him had decided to take on the form of a teenage boy who was too lazy to take out the trash. You were still seated at the table, rolling your eyes at the demon’s horrible attempt at being evil.

“Don’t make me ask you one more time,” you threatened him, although you didn’t know what you would have done had he continued to argue against you. Only when he reached for the knife that he had already put down tidily on his plate, your eyes widened. His knuckles were white around the metal and you leaned back instinctively. Your gun was still in your belt – you had sat down for dinner straight after returning home – but you didn’t want to use it. Not on him.

“Chanhee,” you spoke in a calm tone. His face was unreadable. He wasn’t making eye contact. Instead, his gaze was glued onto the blade in his hand, staring blankly. His eyes blinked, almost robotically. Something changed in his demeanor then. There was a tremble in the hand that was clutching the knife. It grew more uneasy by each passing moment. Your heart was pounding in your chest and you kept your eyes trained on him, trusting your reflexes.

“Fine,” he suddenly said in a grumpy tone. Then he dropped the knife. The metallic sound rang in your ears for seconds afterward. You let out the breath you didn’t know you had been holding on to, as you watched him get up and retrieve the full trash bag from under the sink. You had been sleeping with your bedroom door unlocked for weeks. Even though it pained you, that night you locked your door again.

~

At 3:28 am you awoke to the sound of breaking glass. You allowed yourself to yawn and rub the sleep out of your eyes for just a moment, then you were on your feet. Gun in hand, you opened your door. Across the hall, the door to Chanhee’s room stood ajar. Light came from downstairs.

“Chanhee?” you called quietly. No answer. But your ears picked up shuffling and the sound of shards of glass being moved around. You approached slowly, trying not to give yourself away. Then you heard the quiet sobs. Your arm with the gun dropped to your side when you stepped into the kitchen.

He was sitting on the floor like he was one of the shattered pieces of glass himself. When he saw you, he flinched and tried to dry away his tears. But it was no use. They kept coming, and you had already seen them either way.

“I dropped it on purpose,” he said, referring to the broken glass. Another sob went through his body, making your chest ache at the sight of him. “I’m sorry.”

“I have nine more of those. It’s alright,” you assured him. Gently, you sat down by his side. You put your arms around his hunched frame. He stiffened at first but calmed his muscles after a moment and let you hold him.

“Shh, it’s okay,” you said. Whatever it was that was hurting him so much, you’d be here to fight it off for him.

“I can’t stop the evil in me,” he cried. His weeps seeped through your skin and tugged at your organs. It felt like a thousand tiny, sharp needles in your heart.

“It’s a part of you. It’ll never fully go away. But look at you, you’re doing such a good job holding it inside of you,” you whispered. He shuddered.

“I tried to kill you,” he stated. “I don’t deserve you. You’re so kind. You do all this for me, and I tried to kill you.”

“But you didn’t,” you said. “And that’s what counts. We all have urges inside of us…but it’s what we end up doing that truly counts and makes us who we are.”

“But it’s so hard,” he cried. His face was in the crook of your neck as he sniffled. The small teardrops that touched your skin felt like ice. “And all I do is bother you. I’m an inconvenience. Why don’t you just lock me up with the other demons? Why give me another chance every time I mess up?”

You couldn’t believe he would hate himself so much. Chanhee had more compassion than a lot of the humans you knew had. Some days he sat and pet your bird for hours just because it made him happy, he always had money on him to give to the homeless people in front of the grocery store and he almost cried thinking he forgot to pay for an item at the store (which you had obviously paid for).

“How could you even compare yourself to other demons?” you said. “If you want, I will take you in to work with me sometime. Then you’ll see the atrocities others commit. Even among humans, you’d still be sorted into the best of the best. I believe in you and that you will do good.”

He only sobbed harder at what you had said, and you felt the need to pull him in just a little tighter. You softly rocked your bodies in an attempt to calm him down.

“I would fall apart without you.” Between the hiccups and tears his words sounded like a broken confession, but that’s why they hit so hard.

“You’re not alone in this. I’m here for you,” you whispered, lips right by his ear. Your hands were in his hair, stroking his head as if you could pour all your emotions into this one gesture. What else could you do to show him you would never abandon him the way his demon people had? And it seemed to do the trick. His fists that had been clutching your shirt loosened up and his sorrowful crying turned into mellow breathing on your skin.

“Aren’t you sleepy?” you asked. “Let’s get you back to sleep. Tomorrow things will be better.”

“I haven’t been able to sleep well for three days,” he said. “But I need to clean this up first.”

He let go of you and started to pick up shards of glass. There was still a haggard expression on him, and his cheeks were painted red and tear stained. And yet he was determined.

“Let me do this,” you said, touching his arm. “You can’t even keep your eyes open. Go to bed, Chanhee.”

This time, he didn’t argue. But his good behavior didn’t stop the apologetic, almost battered look at you. He knew you would be by his side no matter what – but what he needed most was his own forgiveness. And you could tell by the way he spoke about himself that it would take a while until he was ready to accept himself as he was.

You heard his heavy steps on the stairs as he walked to his room. Quickly, you gathered the biggest shards of glass and then used a hand brush to collect the tiny pieces. This wasn’t what you had signed up for when you had taken him in. You thought you’d have to argue with him daily and that you’d miss having your personal space and privacy. You knew it would be new, living with another person after living alone for so long. But nothing could have prepared you for the way Chanhee had swept you off your feet with his adorable charms. You didn’t need to fake excitement when you came home to him, nor did you ever have to force yourself to tell him about your day or have any conversation with him, for that matter. He was truly enchanting with the way he made you care so much. Especially when you had assumed all demons were your sworn enemies.

When you finally dragged your tired body upstairs, you softly pushed open the door to his room, only to see him lying wide awake.

“Can’t sleep?” you asked. “Even though you’re so exhausted?”

“No,” he spoke. Even his voice made no attempt at hiding the sleepiness. His look was pleading. “Can you please stay with me…just for a little while?”

There was no way you could say no to his lovely gaze and messy hair and outstretched arms. So, you crawled in next to him under the covers. Your faces were inches apart. The last time you had been looking into a demon’s eyes this close-up he had been lying face-up and dead on the side of a road. Those eyes had been lifeless, and yet you felt like they had still held so much ferociousness, even in death. Now you only saw concern and genuine care in the black orbs across from you. You admired his softly sculpted face. It was one that seemed like it would much rather belong to an angel.

“You’ve been working so much,” he whispered. “You must be much more tired than me.”

“I’m used to it,” you said, “I enjoy my work because I’m doing it to help others.”

“You’re a good person,” he stated. There was something in his voice you couldn’t make out. Regret? Admiration?Maybe it was both.

“So are you, Chanhee,” you said. Without second thought, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his cheek. He didn’t flinch nor pull away. Instead, his pretty lips curled into a smile as he closed his eyes, ready to finally drift off to dreamland.

~

From that night on he seemed to improve a little, day by day. No more breaking things or having to argue about simple house chores. It occurred to you almost as if he had turned into something more human – so much that you dared to take him to work with you. People there had found the idea of your new demon friend strange, and you were sure some would take more than a little convincing to let down their guard around him. You couldn’t blame them for the prejudices – you had once been the same, after all. But Chanhee was okay with it, even when you had explained to him that some people might hate him, just because of his black eyes and what they meant to people. He had lived years of receiving that sort of treatment. Nonetheless, it pained you to think about how used he was to it. It took bravery and thick skin to walk into a police station the way he did that day. He was fascinated, looking behind the scenes. Perhaps you found it amusing how alarmed everyone was when they first laid eyes on him at the station. His ability to turn around their views of his species within twenty seconds or less was nothing but astonishing. He very willingly took it upon himself to walk down to the nearest coffee shop and order ten cups, also earning him the sympathy from the last few sceptics. When you were deep in conversation with another detective, discussing the possible whereabouts of a highly wanted demon, Chanhee suddenly interrupted you.

“I know an underground club where they like to go after…committing crimes,” he said. “Every demon in this city knows about it.”

At that moment you realized his full potential and what good he could really do. That was, if he was ready to sacrifice his people. But he just had – without even blinking. He could be an immense help to you.

“Young man I can see you have a bright future, should you ever decide to join the police force,” said your boss from across the room. Seemed like she had the same idea as you. Chanhee only smiled shyly but couldn’t hide the glint of pride in his eyes.

~

The following days you instantly made arrangements to get Chanhee an interview with the head of the station. He had been scared, at first.

“What if the other people there hate me?” he suspected.

“They might make assumptions about you in their heads, you know, because you’re a demon. They only know demons to be evil. But the moment they realize how good of a person you are, I promise they’ll change their mind,” you said. “You’ll be precious to us, and if you want to do good, the police is where you can be the most helpful. You’ll change lives, maybe even save people.”

“Yes, I want to help,” he said. “I’m done with my kind.”

“I’ll talk to my boss tomorrow,” you assured him. “If you’re too anxious to come in to the station, maybe she’ll allow you to work from home, from my office here. This is just a try, okay? If you really enjoy this work, you’ll have to learn and earn your badge.”

The way he looked at you filled you with so much pride. He seemed to have found some hope. Like he could finally spend his time in a productive and truly good manner. You couldn’t wait to see how he would do.

~

A tiring day and many discussions with higher-ups at workplace later, you returned at your home, late at always. Your fingers tingled with excitement and you wanted to yell for Chanhee the moment you walked through your door. You had managed to score an internship for him at your station. He was allowed to start as early as the following week. As you walked up the stairs, following the shuffling noise you heard, you imagined his face when you told him the news. You knew he’d be ecstatic. His smile would make you so happy, and you almost grinned at the mere thought of it. The noises were coming out of your office.

“Hi, Chanhee. Guess what my boss-,” you started. Then you fell speechless. Paper was scattered all over the floor. Drawers stood wide open. The orderly sorted piles of case files you had been working on were dispersed into every corner of the small room. Photos and pieces of paper were falling out of the folders. And in midst of it all stood Chanhee.

“Y/N- I’m so-,” he said, helpless.

“Don’t,” you said. Every ounce of excitement was gone from your voice, replaced by an ice cold tone you didn’t know you had in you. He flinched, but you couldn’t keep in what you had to say. “You’re impossible. I can’t fucking believe this! These are real cases, Chanhee! I’m trying to save real people here! This isn’t some broken mirror or a spilled cup of water. I can look past a shattered glass, but this is too much…I honestly thought you were getting better…”

Somewhere you knew you were being too harsh. But your job was your entire reason for existing. This was your life mission, laid out in front of you as if a hurricane had rampaged through the room. It would take days for you to rearrange the files. You weren’t even sure if you’d be able to find the correct places for each piece of paper.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice cracking because he was about to cry.

“I don’t want to see you right now. Please get out. I need to clean this up and you can’t help me with this,” you said, trying hard not to scream out of frustration. Your eyes were already scanning the floor. You had no idea where to even start. With low-hanging shoulders and teary eyes that were threatening to spill over, Chanhee slipped past you. He granted you one more look before he scurried out of the office like a frightened animal.

Even though your stomach was grumbling from starvation and you could barely stay awake – as always – you needed to get some of the cleaning done. Now. Or you would go insane. Plus, you needed time away from Chanhee. While you collected the paper from every inch of the wooden floor, guilt slowly started to nag at you. You had never raised your voice at him to this extent. And he was sensitive. It wasn’t his fault, that’s what you always told him when he blamed himself for messing things up. He knew that. You cursed at yourself. How could you be so impulsive? All too well you knew how he felt about his demon half. You were supposed to be there for him, to tell him he was doing a good job and to make sure he didn’t beat himself up. Now you had achieved the complete opposite. A dull ache in your chest accompanied your hungry stomach.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang. In a haze, you stepped down the stairs and to the door. You needed to apologize to Chanhee. When you opened the door, a delivery girl from your favorite restaurant stood there, handing you an order. You were puzzled.

“Already payed for,” she checked with a beaming smile, “Enjoy your meal!”

“Thank you,” you said, voice numb. Before you knew it, she had turned on her heel and was on the way back to the car.

“Chanhee! Your food is here,” you shouted, assuming he was the one who had made the order. You got no answer. When you set the bag down on the kitchen table, you saw a note, addressed to you.

Y/N,

Words can’t express how sorry I am about what I’ve done. All my life I only wanted someone to love me. In you, I thought I might have found what I had been searching for all this time. But I messed up. I always do. I drove you away from what we had. I’ve wondered why I always end up disappointing people. Now I know it’s because it’s the only thing I’m truly good at. You deserve someone you can trust blindly, someone who will walk through fire for you, someone who will take a bullet for you. I can’t give you that. I can’t even trust myself. Thank you for giving me a home and for being the most generous person I have ever met. You will always be in my sweet evil heart. Don’t worry about me too much. I will find my way and you will find yours. Who knows, our paths may cross again. I ordered your favorite food. I know you’re always starving when you get home from work. Enjoy it and don’t let it go cold. Make sure you get enough sleep tonight, and don’t forget to take your water bottle with you tomorrow, you left it here this morning.

I’ll hold you in my happiest thoughts forever,

Chanhee

You only snapped out of your motionless state when one single tear dropped down your cheek and onto the note. A heavy blanket of sorrow and regret sunk into your whole body. The emotions seeped through your skin and before you knew it, you were a sobbing mess on the kitchen floor. You wanted to take him in your arms and tell him you forgave him. Hell, you had forgiven him minutes after you had yelled at him. You should have gone to him then. Had you only apologized quickly enough, perhaps he’d still be here. Then he’d be eating dinner with you, and although you’d be frustrated, you both wouldn’t be alone.

Your tears fell into your food while you ate it, unable to control your sadness and frustration you had against yourself. They mixed with the shower water as you stood in silence under the hot stream, overthinking everything. Your pillow was wet from the crying as you struggled to fall asleep. Like a broken-hearted zombie you trudged across the hall and into his room. Chanhee’s covers still smelled like him and you hugged them tightly, as if you could hold a piece of him and bring him back that way. But there was nothing you could have done. He had left, and it was alone your fault.

~

The next day passed like a vivid fever dream. While you were sat in your meeting, you couldn’t possibly focus on the case your team was discussing. Instead, you pondered whether your makeup was able to conceal your puffy face and the dark circles under your eyes. If it was obvious, at least people didn’t seem to point it out. Maybe they were so used to seeing you tired that it would take a lot more than some tiredness and lack of concentration to arise concern. It was the first time in years you really wanted to go home after work. In fact, you couldn’t stand the laughter and good mood at the police station for one more second. All you wanted to do was scream and cry, and seeing people joke around without any idea about your feelings only intensified your desire. Of course, you could have confided in somebody. But you were afraid they would tell you Serves you right or I told you. You don’t think you’d be able to handle those blatant assumptions and the mocking.

Your plan for the night was set: You’d sit in the bathtub for half an hour, then you’d wrap yourself into a human burrito in a blanket and fill your brain with some brutal movie that would make your life seem like it was mere child’s play. But as most things in your life lately, nothing went as planned. Because after only five minutes in the hot tub, your phone rang on the other side of the room. The first time you ignored it. You really tried. But then it rang again, and you looked up to see the caller ID. It was your boss.

You groaned and quickly stood up, not giving up on the prospects of a peaceful night just yet. But then you heard her message – a break-in at a bank, one dead bank employee, five hostages, a possible shoot out. They were calling for back up. And when there was a chance to throw bad guys behind bars, the most inviting bath or an exciting movie suddenly turned dull.

Not fifteen minutes later you had jumped out the bath, gotten dressed in your uniform, taken your gun and ammunition, and were pulling up at the scene your boss had ordered you to. The bank was in the city center, close to the main square. The police team was stationed in a side street. Some of the team had already been sent to the front of the bank, where the police was attempting to make contact with the robbers.

“They’re holding four hostages in the back of the bank. One of them is at the front, right by the glass doors for us to see. The robbers have guns to their heads. If we come closer, they’ll shoot them,” your colleague informed you.

“Demons?” you asked. Against your will, Chanhee appeared in your mind. You wondered how he was doing. Was he hiding out in somebody else’s garden right now? Had he found a bed to sleep in? Then you quickly shook your head. This was not the time for heavy emotions of any kind.

“Yes. Five of them,” your colleague added. You huffed.

“What do they want us to do? Are they demanding anything?” you asked.

“They want us to let them leave with the money,” she said. You grinned bitterly and nodded.

“What about the back entrance?” you asked. You knew the layout of this bank and had been there multiple times in the past.

“That’s our route. Besides the one at the front, the other demons are inside the bank. The entrance isn’t guarded. A team of four will go to the back and try to sneak up on them. When we have a clear line of fire on all the robbers, we’ll take them out at the same time,” she explained.

“Alright,” you nodded, fixing your bulletproof vest around your upper body. You were ready for this. To others, missions like these would have been nerve-wrecking, and you would have been lying if you said you were completely calm. But the adrenaline was already rushing through your body, and fear was something you hadn’t felt since your very first operation.

“All ready?” your colleague asked the other two members of the team who would go into the bank. You received nods and professional expressions. You had all trained together and were used to functioning like one unit. Sticking close together, you rounded the bank, using a side street so the demons wouldn’t see you approaching. In your ear, the voice of your boss was giving orders and checking in on you. The street was dark and devoid of any life except for your team. Multiple of the surrounding streets had been evacuated and shut off to the public. The scene had something straight out of a heist movie. Except this time, the robbers weren’t going to pull of the perfect theft and get away. You would make sure of it.

“We’re almost there,” you said. “Twenty meters to the entrance. Awaiting permission to go inside.”

“You have permission,” your boss spoke over your earpiece. One last look at your teammates, and you were on the move. Sneaking inside soundlessly was easy. The backrooms were all empty. As you passed abandoned offices, you saw knocked over office equipment and paper scattered on the floors. Lamps had been left on and you heard the faint buzzing of a running computer that was most certainly unoccupied. Moving swiftly, you walked along the corridors, guns pointed ahead at all times. Your teamwork was untouchable. One of you made sure the path was clear, then the rest followed.

“You are one room away from the entry hall,” your boss said.

“Understood,” you answered and slowed down your steps. A cat wouldn’t have been able to walk more silently than you did. Now your ears picked up voices. Somebody was crying. There was shuffling of feet on marble.

“Shut up!” a male voice yelled. The crying faded out into muteness. In the dark, you could make out figures. A few countertops and a good distance separated you and your team from the demons and the hostages. You nodded to your colleagues and they understood. The four of you parted ways, moving into the room and taking shelter behind the bank counters. Once again, you checked the situation. Close to you, four hostages sat on the floor. A woman was still crying, and you could tell she was struggling to keep herself quiet. Around them, four demons stood, dressed in black. Their ski masks kept their faces hidden, but their body languages told you enough. They were not to be messed with. By the far entrance, the fifth demon was positioned with the remaining hostage, and you could spot the police cars outside in the town square. From behind your hiding spots, each of your teammates had a clear line of fire on the demons. The fifth one would be taken out from police outside the bank. You were just about to send a signal to your boss to let her know you were in position. Suddenly, the scraping of feet on the floor alarmed you.

“What was that?” one of the demons barked. The noise had come from your colleague beside you, who was now flinching. You had no time to think. No time to complain about her mistake. If you didn’t act now, they were going to close in on you.

You jumped up, pointing your gun at the closest demon. Right away, the remaining demons had their guns aimed at the hostages’ heads. Your colleagues had done as you, guns held towards the demons. Now you got a proper look at them. They were towering over the hostages, who were crouched on the floor in intimidation. The one in front of you only chuckled. Humans didn’t laugh like this. It was pure malice and recklessness displayed in front of you.

“I thought we told you to stay away,” he began. The only thing you could truly note about him was his mouth. The rest was covered by his mask and where the white of eyes should have been, two orbs of darkness sat, eying you like prey.

“Let the hostages go and we won’t shoot you,” you ordered, with a surprisingly calm voice.

“And why would we do that when we can just kill them?” he asked. His gaze momentarily focused on his fellow demons, as if he was a stand-up comedian and he had just delivered the funniest punch line.

“You will die if you harm even one of the hostages,” you stated.

“Oh, is that so? Humans never learn, do they?” he said. This monster was completely insane. And suicidal too, it seemed. “Go on, shoot.”

First, you thought he was urging your team to shoot. Then you realized, he was looking at the demon closest to you. The very demon you had your gun pointed at. He was asking the other demon to shoot at the hostages. You were preparing to pull the trigger.

But then your mind started racing. You stared at him intensely as your heartbeat quickened uncontrollably in your chest. The dark eyes. The soft lips. His skinny frame and gentle hands. You knew exactly who this demon was. You’d be able to pick him out of any crowd. What the hell was he doing here?

“Shoot!” the bigger demon shouted again, but Chanhee didn’t budge.

“I told you he was goddamn useless,” one of the others said. “Get rid of him.”

“You don’t deserve any of this money,” the bigger demon snarled, and his hand went to his belt. You knew there were human lives on the line. What you were about to do could be considered not only stupid, but wildly imprudent. Emotions were supposed to be left out of police operations. But how could you not have been blind with shock? You were going to let your heart control your body over your mind, and if it was deadly so be it. The bigger demon was now raising his arm at Chanhee.

Before you knew it, you had jumped out from behind the counter. You mirrored the demon’s actions and you pointed at him, pulling the trigger. At the same time, his gun went off. Just in time, you had pushed your body between the two demons.

“Y/N!” Chanhee shouted.

The bullet hit your shoulder and you fell backwards. Burning heat spread through your insides as you stumbled and reached for anything, anyone to hold on to. You could only think of Chanhee, and how your bullet had pierced through the big demon’s skull perfectly. Then, your colleagues opened the gunfire. The shots sounded almost muffled through the intense amount of adrenaline in your blood and the initial effect of being hit. Your body fell to the ground with a heavy thud, and a wave of agony spread through you. You grimaced at the excruciating pain, hands grasping at your shoulder. All you could see was white, before you sank onto your back and the world went dark.

~approximately 18 months later~

“Y/N,” Chanhee said, for the sixth time within the last ten minutes. You pressed your phone harder against your ear, holding it up with your shoulder. Your hands were too busy writing a police report on your laptop.

“Chanhee, I promise I’m writing the last few sentences already,” you assured him. He liked it when you came home early, leaving enough time to relax on the couch with him, instead of falling into bed like a corpse. Today, he was especially insistent, urging you to stay on the phone with him until you had finally packed up your things and left the police department. You guessed he was just trying to make sure you couldn’t stop somewhere along the way and start working on something new. And maybe that fear wasn’t so far off the truth.

“I’m done,” you said. “Status report: I’m switching off the laptop. Now I’m taking my bag. I’m getting up. I’m locking my office behind me. I’ll be home in twenty minutes or less.”

His laughter on the other side of the line made you smile. You couldn’t wait to see his face and get to hug him.

“Alright. I can’t wait,” he said. “I’ll see you.”

The walk home was calm. A soft breeze went through your hair and in the distance, you heard sirens of an ambulance. Promptly you were catapulted back to your memories and into the vehicle after you had been shot. Going in and out of consciousness, you kept repeating one name: Chanhee. When you woke up in the hospital bed, you half-expected him to be sitting there, waiting for you to wake up. But of course that was not the case. He had committed a crime – or at least tried to commit one. The prosecution was in his favor. They acknowledged his compliance with the police and his hesitation to hurt the hostage. Plus, he sold out the other demons and showed no resistance at any point. His regret and sorrow was apparent, nonetheless his mistake caused him 11 months in prison – by far less than the other robbers got.

People had called you insane for standing by him. Others thought you brave and newspapers named him the first good demon in the world. Every week you visited him in prison, often more than once. You made the most of your short time to talk, and with your kindest words you let him know that you were still here for him. Every visit you learned a bit more about how he had ended up in that bank.

After he had walked out on you, he had nowhere to go. So, after strolling the street mazes for days he found himself in the very demon night club he had once warned you about. Most unsavory figures twisted his mind into thinking doing good was no use. They made him believe he would never be able to escape the demon in him, and he might as well embrace the malice. They more or less pulled him along to the robbery, while he overthought the whole thing. It hurt you, seeing him cry as he recounted how scared he was when he saw the hostages. Some of them ended up injured, but all survived. You knew he would have never forgiven himself, had one of them died.

The day you picked him up from prison was a day you’d never forget. Holding each other in your arms felt so right, and you had missed it tremendously. His months at the prison hadn’t been easy, but you made sure he felt loved and cared for when he finally returned. He almost refused to believe that you would open your doors to him again. It was no question to you. You’d always be here for him. Even when he insisted you keep your office at home locked at all times. You trusted him almost a hundred percent by now. His demon only came out rarely, especially in times of stress or intense negative emotions. But you only treated him with kindness, and he gave back just as much of it.

“Chanhee I’m home!” you shouted as you entered your home.

“I’m up here,” he spoke. You ran up the stairs, excited to see him. Your eyes fell onto the open door of your office. For a moment, your heartbeat quickened as you approached it. You must have forgotten to lock the door that morning. Slowly, you pushed it open.

“Hello,” he grinned. You only chuckled as you watched him, sitting by your desk, a book in his hands. “I hope you don’t mind me being in here. This chair is so comfortable.”

“It’s all good,” you said. “Do you know what day it is today?”

“Umm…Friday?” he asked.

“It’s been exactly two years since you first started living here,” you said. “I think we should get some take out and celebrate, what do you say?”

“I can’t believe it’s been two years,” he said. “I’d love that. And you know what? I think I’m ready to start the internship at the police station.”

You smiled proudly. He had put his book down and was getting up.

“You’re going to do good things,” you said, wrapping your arms around him. He finally had found his place. His home. And you were never going to give up on him.

[somesaycosmo]

laurence, the first vicar - an analysis

hi! this is future marie, when i'm going back through and finalizing my draft of this post. this was originally meant to just be an analysis of laurence's song, but it turned into more than that, so just bear with it!

"oh look it's my favorite boss soundtrack in soulsborne! thankfully, bloodborne is a very simple game with straightforward lore, and the lyrics of its tracks are similarly straightforward, so there's not much to analyze here." -a quote from an alternate universe marie who was blessed with a game that didn't give her frenzy

"bloodborne's tracks have lyrics?" you might ask - and yes, in fact, they do! many of them have choral lyrics in latin, including mr laurence "i forgot the sacred adage" lastname's track here.

before we start, please listen to the song, if only because it's very good

this post is using the translated lyrics from this bloodborne wiki, while taking some liberties with the interpretation based on the game's lore. i do not know latin, but if anyone does, i'd love for them to hit me up. i'm also going to specifically tag @rococospade-main, both to shout them out for being great to discuss bloodborne lore with (it's where i got the idea to write this post)

as always, lore starts below the line

so the song starts with 4 lines, as follows

Children, know that if you will abide by the sacred rite with great commitment There will be a reward through the Holy Blood You will be rewarded with the hidden Holy Blood Or, maybe I shall lose my humanity through the Holy Blood

already starting off strong with the "questioning one's faith" vibes, eh, larry?

"children" might be in reference to actual children, or it might be the thing priests do, where they're called "father" and stuff (can you tell i'm not christian?) with laurence in this case being the "father" and the disciples of the church being his "children"

the reward from the holy blood is, of course, ascension, which we all know everyone from byrgenwerth strived for, because they're losers. "hidden holy blood" might be in reference to ebrietas bein all locked up in the chalice dungeons?

"maybe i shall lose my humanity through the holy blood" is, based on how early it is in the song, likely about laurence looking forward; loss of humanity is seen as a good thing, because it means ascension. the dramatic irony of this is of course obvious, considering the song plays when we're beating the shit out of laurence's fallen and bestial form - because loss of humanity can also mean other things, it turns out.

We honor you with the Blood Yet you judge this as blasphemy You are obsessed with this mystery And you shall be overcome by bestiality

We honor you with the Blood Yet you judge this as blasphemy We are hindered by this mystery Water does not achieve success

now laurence is speaking to the gods instead of to his followers. "we honor you with blood / yet you judge this as blasphemy" is likely him pleading to the gods. the description of the defiled chalice reads, "Curses are caused by inciting the anger of the Great Ones, and used to hex others." this paints a picture of the gods as somewhat vengeful; it makes sense that the beastly scourge, then, would be hypothesized to be a plague cast upon humanity for some sin they've committed, and laurence would know best what exactly that sin is.

"you are obsessed with this mystery / and you shall be overcome by bestiality" seems out of place in the rest of this section, given it's the only one that refers to humanity as "you," but i've taken this as it being the gods replying to laurence in the song, with the mystery likely being "how to ascend to godhood". this is the blasphemy you have committed, they say, and you shall be overcome by bestiality

"we are hindered by this mystery" once again, we're talking from laurence's perspective. firstly, laurence for the first time admits that obsession with ascension might not be so great, actually.

"water does not achieve success" this could be interpreted as talking about the whole "great bodies of water are often bulwarks" thing discussed in the lake and sea runes, laurence sort of saying "protecting ourselves from the truth does nothing to help us ascend," with water, effectively, being "safety." to go further, in my personal interpretation, this is more about the comparison of blood and water. you know that old saying, "blood is thicker than water"? that came to mind immediately while reading these lyrics, given the constant talking about blood in the song (and in the game). perhaps here laurence is comparing water to blood with water, water being "safety" and blood being "success" (ascension). to reference the item description for the white church set, "They believe that medicine is not a means of treatment but rather a method for research, and that some knowledge can only be obtained by exposing oneself to sickness." this will come up later.

By the Gods, friend Be afraid By the Gods, friend The Blood Be afraid You are right to

this is familiar! this could be willem speaking, this could be laurence speaking to someone else, or this could be laurence speaking to himself (my writer's brain imagines him muttering this quietly to himself in despair as his mental health and questioning of his faith declines) - due to "you are right to [fear the blood]," i lean towards him talking to himself as if talking to willem, perhaps wishing he had actually feared the old blood, or saying that willem is better off for doing so. regardless, it is incredibly reminiscent of the sacred adage ("fear the old blood" etc etc we all know it by heart at this point), and is likely supposed to be that.

It will be a majestic festivity By the Holy Blood So come, this sweet wine O defiled juice (this has to mean "wine" or "drink" i refuse to believe laurence would refer to the holy blood as a juice. i will not allow it)

this one, oddly, seems to indicate a toneshift - i would argue it's a result of his spiraling mental state. throughout the song he's questioning his faith and his actions, chanting his old mentor's sacred adage to himself; his life up to this point is a life of success while the cure and path to ascension he was peddling to yharnam turns them into horrific beasts. so he ends up doubling down on the religious fervor he started this endeavor with. this delves more into headcanon territory, so bear with me for a second:

have you ever thought about why laurence drops the beast's embrace rune?

laurence, the first vicar, the first cleric beast, drops the rune that allows you to enter a state of controlled beasthood whenever you want (provided you use a beastly weapon, of course). isn't that odd? shouldn't he drop something that, like, increases the amount blood vials heal you? maybe super duper extra special communion +6? why would he drop that rune, of all things, especially when the game already has a named character they could've put in to drop it (that being irreverent izzy)?

let's look at the item description.

After the repeated experiments in controlling the scourge of beasts, the gentle "Embrace" rune was discovered.

When its implementation failed, the "Embrace" became a forbidden rune, but this knowledge became a foundation of the Healing Church.

now i am not necessarily going to suggest that laurence dreamed up the beast's embrace rune himself - it could make sense, but that isn't necessary for the rest of what i'm about to say, which is this: the last part of the song is laurence giving into beasthood voluntarily.

perhaps he believed so strongly in the blood of ebrietas taking him to ascension that he decided beasthood must be it, must be the next step for humanity; perhaps, in a final move of desperation, he tried to control beasthood by experimenting on himself with this rune; or perhaps he had already imbibed so much of the old blood that he couldn't control his need to spill the blood of others.

personally, i lean toward the second interpretation. let's look at the description of laurence's (human) skull:

Skull of Laurence, first vicar of the Healing Church. In reality he became the first cleric beast, and his human skull only exists within the Nightmare.

The skull is a symbol of Laurence's past, and what he failed to protect. He is destined to seek his skull, but even if he found it, it could never restore his memories.

firstly, i'd just like to point out the irony in the statement "he is destined to seek his skull"; he spends his human life seeking ascension, and when he achieves metamorphosis, he is cursed to spend that form trying to find his humanity again, mindless, lost in a nightmare.

secondly, and more to the point, let's look at the line "a symbol of laurence's past, and what he failed to protect." examining this item for its symbolism is fairly clear - it's a relic of laurence's humanity, and that's exactly what he failed to protect, the humanity of himself and others. this description leads me to believe he wanted to protect humanity, but failed.

a lot of interpretations of him have him as this truly evil person who was just deceiving the city of yharnam for his own personal gain, but honestly, i don't buy that. that's not what bloodborne is about. i mean bloodborne is and can be about a lot of things, and i could ascribe dozens of basic thematic interpretations of it off the top of my head, but characterization that simple doesn't fit bloodborne (and, frankly, it's not tragic enough for miyazaki).

so, with all that combined, why do i believe that laurence branded himself with beast's embrace in an attempt to further research on the control of beasthood, so as to protect humanity? well, to go back to an item description from earlier, some knowledge can only be obtained by exposing oneself to sickness.

thank you for reading.

[onyourzeus]

7:04 am | youngk

airport drabble with kang younghyun (youngk of day6) & f!reader. 2.4k words, fluff, requested by anon (thank you)

requests closed

the air is clean, and the floors pristine white. you rub remnants of sleep from your eyes as a yawn sneaks its way out of your lips. seated at the bench in the corner, you lazily watch people walk past, their faces contorted in different expressions of similar sleepiness, enthusiasm, or downright frustration for being up so early away from their beds (most likely). clasped in your other hand is a rectangular piece of slightly thicker paper, some words bolded and numbers imprinted on the side lengthwise. you’re careful not to wrinkle it too much, knowing that it already has a spot in your journal once the trip has ceased. 

you shift your focus from people watching to the hallway right across from you, two openings on either side. due to your consciousness still not at its one hundred percent, you don’t quite remember which side was the men’s restroom— or if both were gender neutral to begin with. either way, it felt like an eternity waiting for younghyun to come out of there, your feet tapping impatiently on the floor.

you have an unlikely relationship with airports— sometimes the thought of being in one excites you, and others you absolutely abhor it. for completely different reasons. however, right now, you feel excited, maybe a little anxious — but that rarely leaves your system when you’re trying to follow a tight schedule like your boarding time. 

finally, you spot him coming out of the right side— hair still fluffy and all-around messy, his white and brown fleece jacket hugging his upper body making him look like a tall, giant teddy bear. a smile naturally paints on your face, feet staying still but yourself buzzing with anticipation. he has that effect on you, a lot of times. 

“did i take long?” younghyun chuckles at the sight of you, jumping out of the bench while rolling the balls of your feet on the tiled flooring. he looks a lot more awake now compared to the cab ride here, droplets of water streaking his temples. you grin wider, taking his damp hand in yours as you drag your feet towards your assigned gate. 

“no, but let’s hurry!”

“okay, okay— whoa, easy there. do you know what time it is?” 

“time for us to wait by the boarding gate before everyone else does!” you look back at him expectantly, missing the kid running past you in a narrow direction. for some reason, this alerts younghyun’s senses and catches you by the waist, the soft, wool-like material of his jacket rubbing against your thin long sleeves. you feel a sudden warmth on your cheeks, but dismiss the childish reaction as you witness younghyun’s playful smirk. 

“don’t want to get hurt before we meet the parents now, do we?” 

“n-no…” you continue blushing, his hand releasing his hold on your side but continues to intertwine it with your fingers. this time, he leads you forward as you recover from flushed cheeks and the impending realization you’ve been avoiding in your mind since packing up for this very trip last night. 

“it’s not like it’s the first time you guys have seen each other in person,” he reassures you. “and the last time we visited, they absolutely adored you.” 

“that was almost a year ago, younghyun,” you protest, pouting at the thought of his parents expecting even more from you since then. you have had the occasional small talk with his mom over messages and emails, sometimes getting to talk to his dad for a few minutes when younghyun is on the phone with him. 

“what if they expect me to own a multi-million company by myself at this point in my life?” the harrowing thought seemed silly, but knowing how independent and, not to mention, successful the kang household is dating back from his great grandparents… maybe it’s just the minimum effort they would want to see in you. 

the one and only son of mr and mrs kang, however, doesn’t seem to agree. 

younghyun halts right in front of the airport employee verifying tickets and id, and turns directly towards you. the light from the high windows up to the ceiling shone through the glass, shining a streak of brightness over your boyfriend’s face. he peers through the sunlight with narrow eyes, but you only laugh at his sorry attempt not to get blinded.

and yet, he looks absolutely perfect. and it’s not even eight in the morning yet. 

“love, i don’t even own a company, let alone have a million dollars in my wallet.”

“debatable.”

“i— what?” taken aback by your response, younghyun’s eyes gleam and the miniscule wrinkles on either side of his eyes turn at his laugh. “you’re overthinking this. you’ll be fine, we’ll be fine. besides, it’s my birthday in a few days— i expect them to be extra nice to me when we get there.” 

which is about two days from now, and the flight to canada takes approximately eleven hours. 

there he goes again, master of quelling any and all dubious content found in the crevices of your mind, the worry center of your brain always challenged by his sure confidence and practical look at reality. it fits, wildly enough, how you balance each other’s perception of the things that happen to you both in life. 

after showing both of your tickets, and being ushered further into the airport, you finally heave a sigh of relief. the gate isn’t too far from your current location, just a simple turn to the right and you’ll see the number 08 and a sign signifying your flight to canada. 

with your luggages checked in at the front, you only have a backpack slung around your shoulders, filled with some necessities for the long airtime. although, due to guidelines having to prohibit possession of liquids, you were feeling quite parched. and another yawn escapes out of your lips once more. younghyun follows suit, looking around the vicinity for a small shop.

“oh, i see a coffee stand over there. let’s go?” 

“yes, please,” you comply, letting him lead the way. the smell of roasted coffee beans and milk gets stronger as you close into the queue, only three people before you. you stand in front of younghyun, looking up at the menu behind the register. suddenly, arms covered in snowy fleece wrap themselves around you, your backpack getting squished in between. it wasn’t as uncomfortable to you as it probably was for younghyun, but his chin resting on your shoulder and a quick, fleeting kiss on your cheek whips your mind elsewhere. 

with your hands awkwardly on your sides, you put them over his. the coffee aroma surrounding you had awaken you just a tad bit, but having younghyun almost rubbing his cheeks repeatedly against yours was more than enough for you to be aware of the pda. 

the line moves, and you assumed younghyun would release you by now but as you take a step forward, he mirrors your movement. his grip on your waist tightens, and his nose grazes against your skin. it tickles your ear, goosebumps running along your arms all of a sudden which he noticed. 

“cold?” he jokes, eyes all on you. for some reason, it’s hard for you to look back— as there’s only a few inches, one deep breath, until your lips meet. you don’t know what’s gotten into younghyun this morning, but you have a feeling it has to do with the missed opportunity of extra cuddles in bed as the alarm blared at your ears at five forty-five am, and maybe he can still read the anxiety hidden in your visage. 

“clingy,” you retaliate, sticking your tongue out shortly. you hear the barista up front call in the next guest, an the two fo you would be there soon so you tap his arm, signaling your request for him to release you. it’s not that you were uncomfortable, surprised (and secretly delighted) would be a more accurate description. 

“grumpy,” he states, eyebrows raised at your confused ones. he relents three seconds later but not before giving your lips a kiss that lasted shorter than you had wanted. you’ve kissed him this morning, maybe too many times before needing to call a cab— but something about him meeting your pursed lips in a short but sweet moment, out in public only highlights the feelings tumbling in your stomach. 

“hello, good morning!” as if on cue, younghyun steps aside to let you order first. with warmer cheeks, you wring your hands to calm your beating heart down, and recite your drink of choice out of habit (didn’t have enough time to choose, honestly).

“and an iced americano too, please. all to go,” you tell the barista, seeing younghyun’s shy smile in the corner of your eye. it wasn’t as if his go-to was hard to remember at all, he basically runs on the stuff non-stop. 

your drinks get made soon enough, and you cup your with both hands to wait for the matcha latte to cool down. 

“how’s your americano?’ you ask younghyun, the two of you walking side by side. 

he takes a sip before answering, “bitter. and watery. it’s basically bitter water.” 

you cringe at the imagined taste, blowing on your own drink at the same time. “sounds amazing.” younghyun chuckles, unabashed by your reaction as he’s used to your constant slander towards his coffee of choice. 

your eyes find the only sign that says ‘flight to canada’ in mere minutes, feeling great accomplishment at the unoccupied seats near the gate. 

“why do you look so surprised? we literally have an hour and a half before boarding,” younghyun questions your marvelling. “people on our flight are probably just waking up right now.”

“so what? gives us more time to ourselves here,” you counter, walking around the empty seats and picking the ones not too close to the gate, but not too far from where they’d be asking passengers to line up. right in the middle.

“we could have used this time to sleep in just a little bit,” younghyun sits next to you, stretching his legs with a deep sigh. “or, you know, other things,” he adds, the glint in his eyes not missing a beat.  you slap his shoulder playfully, unprepared for the innuendos and physical affection he has been showering you today. 

“what’s gotten into you, younghyun?” you ask jokingly, half expecting him to shrug it off as you bury yourself in the goodness of your steaming hot matcha latte. he shakes his head dismissively, watching you take tiny sips from the rim of the open lid. the smile on his smooth, soft face permanently painted on there. 

“just want you to feel as comfortable as possible. it’s gonna be a long flight.”

“remind me again who falls asleep first during long travels? road trip to jeju? even just a thirty minute traffic jam in seoul a couple of times?” 

younghyun pouts, your winning smirk overtaking his confidence for a little bit. he huffs, almost finishing the america sloshing around crushed ice in his cup. “no fair, i was really tired then, okay?” 

“i don’t mind you sleeping during the flight, younghyun. really,” you reassure him, knowing that you won’t get a wink of sleep at all. the bubbling nerves are rising again, the more that you shove it to the side. 

“what are you going to do for eleven hours?” 

“dunno. think about life, create an unnecessary existential crisis in my mind, and possibly decide upon flinging myself off the plane entirely.” 

your dry humor is something younghyun can never understand a lot of the times, eyes blinking back at you rapidly, mouth hanging wide open from the straw of his drink. you continue to humor his incredulous expression targeted at you, tilting your head for maximum nonchalance. 

“babe…”

“hm?”

“you’re insane. absolutely insane,” he finally says, ruffling your hair in the process. you’d be more annoyed but there wasn’t really any effort put into your hair today. if anything, maybe he fixed it for you. either way, you tuck the stray bangs behind your ears and cross your arms, careful not to spill your drink. “you love me for it.”

“i absolutely do, although i have to admit you scare me sometimes.”

“i was kidding, younghyun!”

“yes i know, love, but— don’t say that in front of mom and dad,” he asks of you, gulping, “please?” 

you scoff at the idea, but his pleading eyes make you roll yours lightheartedly as you promise, “i won’t let your parents know about my acquired sense of humor so that they don’t worry about me or you, for that matter.” 

“thank you,” younghyun nods his head dramatically, looking serious but you know he’s itching to crack a smile as well. your heart feels full, in his odd ways younghyun has yet again quenched the anxiety trying to cough itself out of your throat. you think back to the times you’ve been in the same room as his parents. every time younghyun has been there, a guiding hand in the small of your back, or even a bold kiss on the side of your lips whenever one his parents ask you about your relationship.

really, this time shouldn’t be any different. your love for younghyun is still there, possibly having multiplied in ways you couldn’t have imagined upon meeting him years ago. there shouldn’t be a need for worries or unfounded assumptions of his parents disliking you for his son because you’re sure they’ve seen the way you look at him — with knowing eyes and a grateful smile for his existence in your life. and when you stand in the same space, the same house again in eleven hours, you’d be looking at younghyun just the same. 

in fifteen minutes, you end up falling asleep on younghyun’s shoulder waiting for the announcement of your boarding. he keeps your head comfortably cradled on him (as much as he can), patting the side of your cheek and humming a soft lullaby that hopefully transcends to the sweet dream you were having. 

he couldn’t think of a better place to be at this moment. as more passengers sit in the waiting area, their chit chatters growing louder, fighting away with the many announcements from the speaker, younghyun finds peace right beside you. anywhere that may be.

[chilly-me-softly]

Every Little Thing's Gonna Be Alright • Chapter 22

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18 - Chapter 19 - Chapter 20 - Chapter 21

Evelyn had woken up more than a few times recently with Jack's gaze on her like that morning, but compared to the other times, there was no trace of melancholy in Jack's gaze for her imminent departure, which he disguised with his smile.

She felt good. And it wasn't because Cece had slept through most of the night in her comfy cot that Jack had bragged about quite a bit that morning. She didn't know why either, she just knew she felt at peace and wanted things to continue that way for as long as possible.

Jack had gone off to train again while she had occupied the day chatting with Deb first and her mother later. And then when Jack had returned, they had enjoyed a few moments together. Jack had placed Cece on his chest while lying comfortably on the couch and had even sent a few pictures to Ben knowing how much he missed not having his niece around. Needless to say they'd bickered for a few minutes and she'd just laughed, observing their friendship which she'd rarely had the opportunity to see anyway.

"How are you?"

"What do you mean? I'm right here in front of you, you can see me" Evelyn looked up confused at the question, chuckling as she set the dry dishes in the shelf.

"Yeah but we haven't talked about it yet. Face to face I mean" she sighs, she knew it would happen sooner or later. They'd mentioned the matter when it had happened but she'd always waved it off with very elusive answers, knowing that with Jack she wouldn't be able to hide anymore.

"And I let it go during this time because there was already little time to spend with you. But we can talk about it now if you want"

"It's just that I don't care" she can clearly feel Jack move at her statement, her not turning around yet.

"Yes you do, worrying is part of you"

"That's okay. I don't want to constantly pour my worries on you. I don't want to be a burden anymore"

"Come with me" Jack caresses her shoulders before leaving a kiss on them and then offering her a hand which she stares at almost studying it for a moment before accepting it and letting herself be carried by him.

"Jack" she starts but without the need to add anything else, passing Jack also takes the carrier with Cece continuing to walk as if nothing happened. Stupidly she smiles but without losing focus on where they are going. And eventually she finds herself in his indoor pool.

Evelyn tries to resist by increasing her grip on Jack's hand but he doesn't seem to notice, going to place the carrier away from the water but still within sight. He then turns to her smiling and leaving a kiss on her lips.

"Let's do this, voice your concerns one last time. Like a confessional. Then we'll let the water take them away"

"You'll empty the pool?"

"Not the point" he leaves a peck on her nose sketching a smile.

"Hmm so I have to go in there?"

"I think that's the whole point" she switches her gaze from his waiting face and that stretch of water, swallowing hard. "What is it?"

"I um... I don't, you know... I can't swim"

"Unbelievable" he chuckles at first, "But wait I'm sure Ben is more than capable"

"In fact I said I couldn't swim. Not a word about my brother"

"May I ask why?"

"I don't know... Our parents took me for lessons just as they did with him, but all I remember is three year old me attached to my father's leg with my eyes swollen with tears. I knew even then that my dad was the softer one and that he wouldn't let me do it" a small giggle escapes her lips as she shakes her head at the memory of that day, of her first and last swimming lesson.

"Ben's tried over the years too but it's come to nothing and... so now I'm just staying as far away as possible, that's all"

"So this has started way back" at her raised eyebrow, he continued "The fact that you can't really let you go"

"I don't know..." she huffs running a hand through her hair, "maybe what-what are you doing?" Evelyn forgets everything going through her mind at the exact moment Jack takes off his shirt in such a fluid gesture leaving it a few steps away from where he is.

"It's just the two of us here. Do you trust me?"

"Jack" she groans bringing her hands up to cover her face and throwing a look at her little girl wishing she would go to her aid at that very moment. Only she couldn't be any quieter with her little fingers in her mouth.

"Well if you want a kiss... come and get it" and he's in the water now, arms crossed on the edge as he looks at her quietly in anticipation while she feels her legs go mushy but heavy at the same time.

"I might as well do it this way, dry and safe" so he looks at her challenging her as he slowly moves away from the edge coming more and more towards the middle, letting go and just floating on that surface.

"Oh I'm definitely not coming there" the words come out of her mouth before she can stop them making him laugh.

"You just want to see me take my clothes off, admit it"

"Maybe" Jack states seriously but after the wink he can't take it and gives in to the laughter again.

"You know what, water actually scares me. When I'm here it's like it makes me vulnerable, exposed, like my thoughts have a free pass to attack me. And I won't hide the fact that more than a few times I've sat exactly where you are staring at the water with the fear that going in would force me to deal with things I wasn't ready to face"

"Why do you keep going in then?"

"Because it made me think about good things too and those are always worth it" staring into his eyes after that she already knows she's lost it. In a burst of courage she takes off her shirt and a shiver runs down her spine. She looks at Jack slightly embarrassed as he slowly walks to the edge of the pool.

"If my daughter becomes an orphan I swear-"

"That won't happen" he reassures her following her every step, helping her slowly into the water and resting his hands firmly at her waist, "We're not going any further than this, your back will always touch the edge" he whispers to her continuing to smile reassuringly as she entwines her hands around his neck.

"I want my kiss" she moans making him chuckle before he slowly cancels out that little distance between them.

"Hmm I need to stop listening to you. You're always pushing me to do things..."

"Too bad you like me" he murmurs into her lips. Sometimes we simply need someone to push us to try new things, to push our limits, to always go a little beyond the comfort zone. We need someone who challenges us to improve ourselves and discover new things and change our minds about others.

"Yeah you're right" their lips meet again, and surely the cold felt just before has disappeared completely replaced by heat. Heat coming from their bodies and the situation, from involuntary touches and their hearts beating fast. One of Jack's hands goes up higher as Evelyn's legs go to wrap around his waist pulling him even closer to her. And then Cece starts to cry and a sigh escapes both of their lips.

"You've got to be kidding me" she murmurs rolling her eyes as Jack chuckles resting his chin in the crack of her neck, leaving a kiss there.

"What, you like water now?"

"I wish she would have cried before I came in, helping her mum"

"Oh no no, I said to her earlier please be good, your mum needs to take herself less seriously"

"Since you two are getting along so well, I'll just leave her here with you when I leave" she sticks her tongue out at him before getting him to help her out of the pool and after quickly drying themselves off they both walk over to Cece to soothe her crying. They go back into the house to change her nappy and feed her again, Jack watches as Evelyn gently rocks the little one to sleep and watches as she carefully places her in her cot and always stays to make sure she sleeps peacefully for at least ten minutes before walking away.

"I'd be happy if you'd both stay you know" he murmurs to her before leaving a kiss on her temple and ajaring the door to the room. And she finds herself back in that room in the middle of the night, having woken up and checked that everyone was still asleep. She sits at the edge of that pool with her legs to her chest, looking at the water which is partially lit by a small window right on top of one wall.

She can feel what Jack had described to her only a few hours before, the calmness of that place that forces her to reflect and to bring to the surface some things that are in a remote corner of her brain. And she thinks about the future, starts to consider some options, to imagine her likely life to see if she could make it. And when she goes back to bed, with Jack immediately holding her close, she thinks it would be worth it after all.

----

I have a question for you guys. Since I've never carried on a story with so many chapters, could you please let me know if it still makes sense or is it time for me to, I don't know, start working on an ending?

Tag: @alexajanecollins @emwritesfootball @rosie7703

Chapter 23

[luimagines]

All Of Her Colors In A Storm

It was raining heavily and cold.

But they had to keep going.They all had to keep walking.

The smell of wet grass and wood on any other rainy day would have been absolutely delightful and calming to Mulan but not today.

Not right now.

Espesically since she wasn't techinacally here.

In fact it only seemed to make the sickly feeling they had inside of them worse like a wet thunderstorm was stirring around inside and out leaving them no place to go or hide.

They were tired,beaten and badly injured.

How did everything end up this way? Oh right it was because of the four swords that they-she?-mulan?-we?-LINK,took and got ourselves split into four separate parts of...us?

It was hard to explain and we just decided to just call each other by designed colors and not think too much on the implications of how different we seemed we were with our personalities compared to each other and “Mulan”,but we still managed to work it out.

They didn’t know how merg themselves back on their own so the group and four decided to try and travel to four’s hyrule and put the sword back into the stone in an attempt to reunite mulan again but somewhere along their adventures they had all gotten separated by the group and were attacked.Yellow got badly hurt and had to be carried by Cyan to safety while Green found an exist and brown fought off the remaining enemies before catching up with the rest..

We didn’t stop walking for hours and were already too tired.

Oh so tired.

They just wanted to rest.

But Brown wouldn’t let them and kept pushing for them to keep going.Saying that the rest of the chain were probably looking for them or waiting for us up ahead and we couldn’t stop because they could move and we’d never be able to catch up or find them ever again.Cyan had started to get tired of carrying Yellow so Green offered up to carry instead but after more hours of trekking in the mud and getting to a rocky clearing they realized something.Or more specifically Brown realized something.

“Oh...I see now.....” Brown said suddenly as she stopped and took in the landscape before turning around and walking the other way.

“Hey wait! Where are you going!” Green cried out.

“We made a wrong turn and need to go the other way,we can make up for time lost if we run the rest of the way back and walk the rest on foot!” Brown replied yelling a bit threw the loud storming pouring down on them.

“Wait,WHAT?? Ok,no,no,no,no,NO! I am done! I am NOT walking another mile back to the way we came, much less run all the way back!” Green stopped dead in her tracks in the mud as Brown continued to pass by her without much change to her almost permanent scowling look of determination on her face.

Cyan’s eyes were feeling baggy but she could still see the shaking arms Green had while carrying Yellow;she couldn’t tell if it was because of the cold weather getting to her or if it was because she was getting tired from carrying Yellow on her back but either way she wordlessly came over and pulled yellow off of her which her duplicate did not put up much of a fight against it since her focus was on Brown.

“HEY BROWN! I SAID I AM NOT GOING ANY FURTHER!” Green took a few steps forward to get close enough for her to hear.

Brown stopped in her tracks,turned around and eyed yellow before scrunching up her face and tilting her head back.

“Very well then,Cyan,get yellow and let’s go.” She turned to start walking again but stopped when Green called out again.

“No!Oh No!Nonononono! She’s not coming either! She is exhausted! We’re exhausted! We’ve been out in the rain for so long! We need to rest! Yellow needs a proper place to rest! We shouldn’t be walking for hours in the cold with open wounds while being sleep deprived!” Green threw her arms in the air frantically and walked closer to Brown as she pushed back strains of wet hair out from infront of her face, then stopped a few feet in front of her.

Brown stared into Green’s face a while before ever so slightly tilted her head to the side to see Cyan holding yellow and still not moving.

“Cyan we are leaving.Get Yellow and let's go.NOW.” She spoke over to Cyan as she gave a stern look before Green walked in front of her blocking her view from the two other girls.

“She is not leaving,Cyan go and put Yellow down to rest, we are not going anywhere.” she pointed over to a tree for Cyan to go to but as soon as she took a step towards the direction brown piped in again.

“No! Cyan we are not staying! The others are looking for us and we need to regroup with them! We don’t have time to rest!” Brown this time taking a side step past Green to try to get to Cyan but was stopped by having her arm grabbed.

“Cyan…” Green gave a gentle nod in her direction to go sit down and rest.

For a second she stood there looking back and forth between the two before deciding to go and lay Yellow under the tree and to begin tending to their wound first.

Brown ripped her arm away from Green once she saw Cyan make her way to the tree and turned to her not quit shouting but her volume very much increasing.

“What’s wrong with you? We need to keep moving! We can’t stop to rest when the other’s could need us right now!”

“We’re not going to be much help if we die from our open wounds! We’ll find them when we have the energy!” Yellow retorted, crossing her arms.

“And you need to rest as well!You need to stop treating yourself and everyone as expendable tools! In fact,I think you treat yourself and us as well worse than expendable tools! because at least their being used only when they're in proper shape, not when they're at their breaking point of no return!” Green shouted as she jabbed a finger into Brown's shoulder.

“Oh,really? I’ve been treating you all as expendable? I apologize,but If you hadn’t realize I am trying to get us all back to the group as quickly as possible so that YELLOW can get treated for her injuries because if you haven’t also already noticed WE ARE OUT OF HEALING POTIONS! We can't sit around using only bandages and gauze to keep her barely afloat from death’s door when we could just get her to Hyrule or the others! But I guess you wouldn’t care about that since you only want to “rrreeeeessst” and use the precious time we have to help her as “expendable sleepy time”, right?” Brown jabbed her finger into Green mimicking the same motion she did to her as before as Green swatted her hand away and said something back.

At this point everything started to get more muffled as Cyan tried to drown out the sounds of their voices while she tended to Yellow. Trying to focus on the wound in their abdomen that was reopening.She pulled out some needles and a small knife then set some bandages and a bottle of alcohol to the side as she got to work.Trying her hardest to not think about before during the fight,to not think about how Green and Brown were fighting again in the back,to not think about how much she missed fluffy and wish he was her to comfort her and not back with the rest of friends who she missed as well.But despite all the emotions swirling up in her head,she kept a straight face and managed to somehow block everything out to help her friend,erm,herself?

Once she was done she looked down at Yellow and furrowed her brows sorrowfully.

‘This is all my fault’ She thought to herself.

She turned to look over to where Green and Brown were and sure enough she saw they were still fighting.

Usually Yellow was the one to break up the fight because they could be a bit terrifying when they were angry,but she wasn’t awake right now.

‘All my fault’ Cyan thought again looking down at Yellow again.

“Oh so you want to start making low blows now? What did your small brute brain run out of excuses as to why we should be forced to keep doing what you want so you resorted to trying to hurt my feelings,hmmm,Brown?Oh wait,I am so sorry,I meant your maaajjeeesty! Because clearly this is a monarchy we’re in and not a team!” Green gave an exaggerated curtsy and bow to brown before straightening up again to stare back at her harshly.

“Oh,did you think that was a low blow? No,no,no that wouldn’t be a low blow.If i wanted to say something to hurt you I would have told you something like that it was a good thing our parents gave us away because I don’t think anyone would be able to physically handle how much of a mess you are much less how much worse you would have been if they raised you.” Brown turned her head back to Green with her eyes squinted slightly and a coy smile creeping its way onto her face as she stood slightly sideways with both arms crossed and head hung slightly low.

A loud audible staggered laugh could be heard

“ OH! OH!OH NO! Ok! OK THEN! FINE!! ALRIGHTY-DITY! WOW,OK!” Green flung her arms back up in the air and walked a few feet away from Brown backwards before spinning around facing away from her then started rolling up her sleeves and readjusted her clothes and armor as she pushed more of her hair back from the rain.

“Oh so you want to go THAT way now,huh?Want to go down the rabbit hole?ok ,ok,ok,I get it! You want to hit deep? You want to go all the way?Let's go then! I am sick and tired of always trying to be reasonable with you every time! You’ve had this one coming for you for a long time now, brown!” she spun back around and walked back to her and stood with hands balled up into fists by her side before she took a breath and exhaled.

Cyan didn’t like where this was going,she turned around and bowed her head down,shut her eyes and cupped her ears. She didn’t want to hear or see how nasty this was going to get.

“They'll stop eventually.They just need to get it out of their systems.They’ll stop and make up,just like they always do.” Cyan muttered to herself trying to keep herself distracted from them,but despite how hard she tried or how loud the storm around them got,it was like their voices got louder and louder with every shout, even if they weren’t getting any closer.

But she couldn’t get involved because she’d just get dragged into their argument.

They’ll stop eventually right?

Cyan was just so tired.

She just wanted to sleep.She missed fluffy.She missed her friends.If Time,Twilight or Warriors were her they would have made them stop by now.

They wanted to do something but they were just too tired.

They just want to rest,just a little bit then they’ll stop them if they're still fighting.

Their eyes started to lulle as she sat by Yellow's sleeping body with her back against a tree and allowed the darkness to take her away.

Cheese you promised me fluffy... you said you were capable and I get this in return?

How dare you hurt our girl!

Cyan honey noooo!!!!!

Someone help Yellow!!

I'm going to fight Brown and Green myself!

[personalcoachingcenter]

Life Coaching is all about Improving Confidence

New Post has been published on https://personalcoachingcenter.com/life-coaching-is-all-about-improving-confidence/

Life Coaching is all about Improving Confidence

Coaching is the process used to transport people from where they are today to where they want to be.

Coaching can be a very empowering experience for both the coach and the person being coached.  It takes the right type of person to be a coach but we know how great it is to be able to help people achieve their potential. As a person being coached you can learn things about yourself that will help you to overcome self-limiting beliefs and take your life or business to that next level.

Our experience in business and leadership, along with our love of people makes us great coaches.  We focus on you and your needs. Our processes and systematic approach to coaching are designed to help you reach your goals in a timely manner. Our coaching intake questionnaire is designed to help us learn as much as possible about your so that we can focus on results during our coaching sessions.

Many people suffer from a lack of confidence. These people can be highly educated and talented. But at some point in their lives, they allowed negative feedback or situations to undermine their self-esteem and that has continued to affect their performance and success every day.

Over time this can lead to low self-esteem which can reduce the quality of a your life in many different ways. Unchecked, low self-esteem may even lead to mental health issues such as anxiety and depression, sometimes with tragic results.

Depression and anxiety. Low self-esteem tends to work in a vicious cycle with other mental health conditions like depression and anxiety. … If you are someone who already lives with a mental illness, you may find that low self-esteem develops due to the social stigma surrounding mental illness.

When you work with a coach they can help you practice mindfulness and meditation to support the development of new neural pathways. If you consistently work with a coach that is positive you can learn more positive thinking and self-talk.

During our work with clients, we often give them an exercise on this topic and ask them to reflect on how their life and career would be different if they were more confident.

Your degree of confidence, called self-confidence, is the trust or faith that you have in yourself and your abilities.  Self-esteem is the opinion you have of yourself.

Realistic feelings of confidence and positive self-esteem affect how you think and act, how you feel about others, and how successful you are in life.

Having self-confidence does not mean that you can do everything. Self-confident people have expectations that are realistic. Even when some of their expectations are not met, they continue to be positive and to accept themselves.

Understanding Confidence and it impact on you

Self-confidence allows you to have positive yet realistic views of yourself and the situations in which you are involved. If you have self-confidence, typically you do not fear challenges, you are able to stand up for what you believe, and you have the courage to admit your limitations.

Most of us have areas in our lives where we feel quite competent while at the same recognizing areas where we do not feel at all confident. Having an accurate sense of self-confidence means you avoid behaving overconfident or reckless.  It means you are not afraid to take risks on tasks that you are able to do and you do not get paralyzed by the fear and anxiety when faced with things you want or need to do.

The good news is that we can rewire our brain with focused coaching and intention. And although your fears and limiting beliefs may not completely disappear, over time they lose their power over your daily thoughts and actions.

People with high self-confidence typically have little fear of the unknown, are able to stand up for what they believe in, and have the courage to risk embarrassment.  Losing confidence is no longer trusting in the ability to perform. It may be reasonable as the result of past failure to perform, or unreasonable, because one “just has a feeling” about something or is having doubt.

Many factors affect the development of your level of confidence. Parents’ attitudes are crucial to children’s feelings about themselves, particularly in children’s early years. If one or both parents are excessively critical or demanding, or if they are overprotective and discourage moves toward independence, children may come to believe they are incapable, inadequate, or inferior.

However, if parents encourage children’s moves toward self-reliance and accept and love their children when they make mistakes, children will learn to accept themselves and will be on their way to developing self-confidence.

Surprisingly, lack of self-confidence is not necessarily related to lack of ability. Instead, it is often the result of focusing too much on the unrealistic expectations or standards of others, especially parents and society. Friends’ influences can be as powerful or more powerful than those of parents and society in shaping feelings about one’s self.

Any discussion of confidence should include information on self-esteem. While self-confidence is the knowledge that you can succeed at something, self-esteem is the capacity to like and love yourself, and feel worthwhile, irrespective of all the ups and downs of life. It is your values, beliefs and personal philosophy by which you define your personal worth.

Someone with a healthy self-esteem simply likes himself or herself. A healthy self-esteem is not contingent on success because there are always failures to contend with. Neither is it a result of comparing ourselves with others because there is always someone better. With a healthy self-esteem, we like ourselves because of who we are and not because of what we can or cannot do.

On the other hand, low self-esteem fosters many unhealthy behaviors. Even though we might become aware of these behavioral problems, it’s often a difficult task to change them unless the root of the problem, low self-esteem, is dealt with first.

It is not natural for you to feel good about failure nor is it healthy for you to feel indifferent about it. Rather, it is healthy for you to feel bad about it. Feeling bad about a negative event can help you to think clearly about the event, to change it if it can be changed and to make a constructive adjustment to it if it can’t be changed.  But a warped sense of self-image can cause these emotions to become destructive; sadness can become depression, and healthy anger can become unhealthy. The more unhealthy our negative emotions become, the more it can interfere with our ability to think clearly, and the less likely we are to change our behavior in constructive ways.

Building Confidence and Self-Esteem

Challenges to our self-esteem  and confidence are a part of everyday life.  The important thing is to learn how to overcome failure and negative experiences.

Self-confidence and positive self-esteem can be learned.  This learning will involve changes, new behaviors, and will take time and energy. Building self-esteem and confidence is dependent on breaking old habits and developing new productive ones. A key habit that needs to be shattered is the habit of negative thinking. These thoughts are probably so ingrained into your mind that you assume that they are unchangeable, but they are not.  Learning how to acknowledge and deal with your negative thoughts is an effective way of starting to boost your self-esteem. Below are several suggestions for how you can begin to work on establishing better self-esteem and become more confident:

*Stop judging yourself by what happens to you in life, so you’re not basing your confidence on outside events.

*Forgive yourself and others for past mistakes. Harboring old grudges takes up a lot of time and energy you could be using in more productive ways.

*Learn to think differently. When you fall into self-criticism and unconfident thoughts, note them and change them to positive thoughts.

*Set goals on the basis of what you can realistically achieve, and then work step-by-step to develop your potential.

*Emphasize your strengths. Focus on what you can do rather than what you cannot.

Self-confidence and self-esteem are learned, not inherited. So lack of confidence does not have to be permanent.  Since lack of confidence and lack of positive self-esteem are both learned, they can be replaced by new learning.  Developing confidence and self-esteem are effectively facilitated by psychotherapy.

One of the things that held me back from pursuing my dreams for many years was fear of failure … and the lack of self-confidence that I needed to overcome that fear.

It’s something we all face, to some degree, I think. The key question: how do you overcome that fear?

By working on your self-confidence and self-esteem. Without really thinking of it in those terms, that’s what I’ve been doing over the years, and that’s what helped me finally overcome my fears, and finally pursue my dreams.

I still have those fears, undoubtedly. But now I know that I can beat them, that I can break through that wall of fear and come out on the other side. I’ve done it many times now, and that success will fuel further success.

This post was inspired by reader Nick from Finland, who asked for an article about self-worth and self-confidence:

Many of the things you propose make people feel better about themselves and actually help building self-confidence. However, I would be interested on reading your input in general on this topic. Taking time out for your own plans and dreams, doing things another way than most other people and generally not necessarily “fitting in” can be quite hard with a low self-confidence.

Truer words have never been spoken. It’s near impossible to make time for your dreams, to break free from the traditional mold, and to truly be yourself, if you have low self-esteem and self-confidence.

As an aside, I know that some people make a strong distinction between self-esteem and self-confidence. In this article, I use them interchangeably, even if there is a subtle but perhaps important difference … the difference being whether you believe you’re worthy of respect from others (self-esteem) and whether you believe in yourself (self-confidence). In the end, both amount to the same thing, and in the end, the actions I mention below give a boost to both self-esteem and self-confidence.

Taking control of your self-confidence

If you are low in self-confidence, is it possible to do things that will change that? Is your self-confidence in your control?

While it may not seem so, if you are low in self-confidence, I strongly believe that you can do things to increase your self-confidence. It is not genetic, and you do not have to be reliant on others to increase your self-confidence. And if you believe that you are not very competent, not very smart, not very attractive, etc. … that can be changed.

You can become someone worthy of respect, and someone who can pursue what he wants despite the naysaying of others.

You can do this by taking control of your life, and taking control of your self-confidence. By taking concrete actions that improve your competence, your self-image, you can increase that self-confidence, without the help of anyone else.

Below, I outline 25 things that will help you do that. None of them is revolutionary, none of them will do it all by themselves. The list certainly isn’t comprehensive. These are just some of my favorite things, stuff that’s worked for me.

And you don’t need to do all of them, as if this were a recipe … pick and choose those that appeal to you, maybe just a couple at first, and give them a try. If they work, try others. If they don’t, try others.

Here they are, in no particular order:

1. Groom yourself. This seems like such an obvious one, but it’s amazing how much of a difference a shower and a shave can make in your feelings of self-confidence and for your self-image. There have been days when I turned my mood around completely with this one little thing.

2. Dress nicely. A corollary of the first item above … if you dress nicely, you’ll feel good about yourself. You’ll feel successful and presentable and ready to tackle the world. Now, dressing nicely means something different for everyone … it doesn’t necessarily mean wearing a $500 outfit, but could mean casual clothes that are nice looking and presentable.

3. Photoshop your self-image. Our self-image means so much to us, more than we often realize. We have a mental picture of ourselves, and it determines how confident we are in ourselves. But this picture isn’t fixed and immutable. You can change it. Use your mental Photoshopping skills, and work on your self-image. If it’s not a very good one, change it. Figure out why you see yourself that way, and find a way to fix it.

4. Think positive. One of the things I learned when I started running, about two years ago, what how to replace negative thoughts (see next item) with positive ones. How I can actually change my thoughts, and by doing so make great things happened. With this tiny little skill, I was able to train for and run a marathon within a year. It sounds so trite, so Norman Vincent Peale, but my goodness this works. Seriously. Try it if you haven’t.

5. Kill negative thoughts. Goes hand-in-hand with the above item, but it’s so important that I made it a separate item. You have to learn to be aware of your self-talk, the thoughts you have about yourself and what you’re doing. When I was running, sometimes my mind would start to say, “This is too hard. I want to stop and go watch TV.” Well, I soon learned to recognize this negative self-talk, and soon I learned a trick that changed everything in my life: I would imagine that a negative thought was a bug, and I would vigilantly be on the lookout for these bugs. When I caught one, I would stomp on it (mentally of course) and squash it. Kill it dead. Then replace it with a positive one. (“C’mon, I can do this! Only one mile left!”)

Know yourself and you will win all battles. – Sun Tzu

6. Get to know yourself. When going into battle, the wisest general learns to know his enemy very, very well. You can’t defeat the enemy without knowing him. And when you’re trying to overcome a negative self-image and replace it with self-confidence, your enemy is yourself. Get to know yourself well. Start listening to your thoughts. Start writing a journal about yourself, and about the thoughts you have about yourself, and analyzing why you have such negative thoughts. And then think about the good things about yourself, the things you can do well, the things you like. Start thinking about your limitations, and whether they’re real limitations or just ones you’ve allowed to be placed there, artificially. Dig deep within yourself, and you’ll come out (eventually) with even greater self-confidence.

7. Act positive. More than just thinking positive, you have to put it into action. Action, actually, is the key to developing self-confidence. It’s one thing to learn to think positive, but when you start acting on it, you change yourself, one action at a time. You are what you do, and so if you change what you do, you change what you are. Act in a positive way, take action instead of telling yourself you can’t, be positive. Talk to people in a positive way, put energy into your actions. You’ll soon start to notice a difference.

8. Be kind and generous. Oh, so corny. If this is too corny for you, move on. But for the rest of you, know that being kind to others, and generous with yourself and your time and what you have, is a tremendous way to improve your self-image. You act in accordance with the Golden Rule, and you start to feel good about yourself, and to think that you are a good person. It does wonders for your self-confidence, believe me.

One important key to success is self-confidence. A key to self-confidence is preparation. – Arthur Ashe

9. Get prepared. It’s hard to be confident in yourself if you don’t think you’ll do well at something. Beat that feeling by preparing yourself as much as possible. Think about taking an exam: if you haven’t studied, you won’t have much confidence in your abilities to do well on the exam. But if you studied your butt off, you’re prepared, and you’ll be much more confident. Now think of life as your exam, and prepare yourself.

10. Know your principles and live them. What are the principles upon which your life is built? If you don’t know, you will have trouble, because your life will feel directionless. For myself, I try to live the Golden Rule (and fail often). This is my key principle, and I try to live my life in accordance with it. I have others, but they are mostly in some way related to this rule (the major exception being to “Live my Passion”). Think about your principles … you might have them but perhaps you haven’t given them much thought. Now think about whether you actually live these principles, or if you just believe in them but don’t act on them.

11. Speak slowly. Such a simple thing, but it can have a big difference in how others perceive you. A person in authority, with authority, speaks slowly. It shows confidence. A person who feels that he isn’t worth listening to will speak quickly, because he doesn’t want to keep others waiting on something not worthy of listening to. Even if you don’t feel the confidence of someone who speaks slowly, try doing it a few times. It will make you feel more confident. Of course, don’t take it to an extreme, but just don’t sound rushed either.

12. Stand tall. I have horrible posture, so it will sound hypocritical for me to give this advice, but I know it works because I try it often. When I remind myself to stand tall and straight, I feel better about myself. I imagine that a rope is pulling the top of my head toward the sky, and the rest of my body straightens accordingly. As an aside, people who stand tall and confident are more attractive. That’s a good thing any day, in my book.

13. Increase competence. How do you feel more competent? By becoming more competent. And how do you do that? By studying and practicing. Just do small bits at a time. If you want to be a more competent writer, for example, don’t try to tackle the entire profession of writing all at once. Just begin to write more. Journal, blog, write short stories, do some freelance writing. The more you write, the better you’ll be. Set aside 30 minutes a day to write (for example), and the practice will increase your competence.

14. Set a small goal and achieve it. People often make the mistake of shooting for the moon, and then when they fail, they get discouraged. Instead, shoot for something much more achievable. Set a goal you know you can achieve, and then achieve it. You’ll feel good about that. Now set another small goal and achieve that. The more you achieve small goals, the better you’ll be at it, and the better you’ll feel. Soon you’ll be setting bigger (but still achievable) goals and achieving those too.

15. Change a small habit. Not a big one, like quitting smoking. Just a small one, like writing things down. Or waking up 10 minutes earlier. Or drinking a glass of water when you wake up. Something small that you know you can do. Do it for a month. When you’ve accomplished it, you’ll feel like a million bucks.

16. Focus on solutions. If you are a complainer, or focus on problems, change your focus now. Focusing on solutions instead of problems is one of the best things you can do for your confidence and your career. “I’m fat and lazy!” So how can you solve that? “But I can’t motivate myself!” So how can you solve that? “But I have no energy!” So what’s the solution?

17. Smile. Another trite one. But it works. I feel instantly better when I smile, and it helps me to be kinder to others as well. A little tiny thing that can have a chain reaction. Not a bad investment of your time and energy.

18. Volunteer. Related to the “be kind and generous” item above, but more specific. It’s the holiday season right now … can you find the time to volunteer for a good cause, to spread some holiday cheer, to make the lives of others better? It’ll be some of the best time you’ve ever spent, and an amazing side benefit is that you’ll feel better about yourself, instantly.

19. Be grateful. I’m a firm believer in gratitude, as anyone who’s been reading this blog for very long knows well. But I put it here because while being grateful for what you have in life, for what others have given you, is a very humbling activity … it can also be a very positive and rewarding activity that will improve your self-image. Read more.

20. Exercise. Gosh, I seem to put this one on almost every list. But if I left it off this list I would be doing you a disservice. Exercise has been one of my most empowering activities in the last couple years, and it has made me feel so much better about myself. All you have to do is take a walk a few times a week, and you’ll see benefits. Start the habit.

21. Empower yourself with knowledge. Empowering yourself, in general, is one of the best strategies for building self-confidence. You can do that in many ways, but one of the surest ways to empower yourself is through knowledge. This is along the same vein as building competence and getting prepared … by becoming more knowledgeable, you’ll be more confident … and you become more knowledgeable by doing research and studying. The Internet is a great tool, of course, but so are the people around you, people who have done what you want, books, magazines, and educational institutions.

22. Do something you’ve been procrastinating on. What’s on your to-do list that’s been sitting there? Do it first thing in the morning, and get it out of the way. You’ll feel great about yourself.

23. Get active. Doing something is almost always better than not doing anything. Of course, doing something could lead to mistakes … but mistakes are a part of life. It’s how we learn. Without mistakes, we’d never get better. So don’t worry about those. Just do something. Get off your butt and get active — physically, or active by taking steps to accomplish something.

24. Work on small things. Trying to take on a huge project or task can be overwhelming and daunting and intimidating for anyone, even the best of us. Instead, learn to break off small chunks and work in bursts. Small little achievements make you feel good, and they add up to big achievements. Learn to work like this all the time, and soon you’ll be a self-confident maniac.

25. Clear your desk. This might seem like a small, simple thing (then again, for some of you it might not be so small). But it has always worked wonders for me. If my desk starts to get messy, and the world around me is in chaos, clearing off my desk is my way of getting a little piece of my life under control. It is the calm in the center of the storm around me. Here’s how.

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[vramcpu]

Invisible Impact

How perception is affected by the interconnectedness of aesthetics, mediums, and ideologies.

Written by Ramirez De Leon

“In an electric information environment, minority groups can no longer be contained — ignored. Too many people know too much about each other. Our new environment compels commitment and participation. We have become irrevocably involved with, and responsible for, each other.”

— Marshall McLuhan

Note: This work is not a critique or analysis of politics. It is merely a look at different philosophical and artistic perspectives as they influence the perception of the self within culture. First, we take a look at the impact of mediums, next ideology and commodities, and finally habitus.

I.) MEDIUMS

“What you print is nothing compared to the effect of the printed word. The printed words sets up a paradigm, a structure of awareness which affects everybody in very, very drastic ways, and it doesn’t very much matter what you print as long as you go on in that form of activity.”

- MM

As an artist, as someone who walks in the unknown uncertainty of creativity, I understand that the work we do as artists has an impact beyond immediate description.

A work’s “non-descriptiveness” allows it to be felt intensely regardless of language, culture, or identification. It is an affect that is grossly underrated and under-discussed. This subject matter is rarely discussed or expressed because people are trained to think in a gross materialistic way at a very young age. Materialistic indoctrination forces one to see artwork (or creative projects) as merely products. (or as means to an end).

“Creativity is uncertain. To be creative you must get into the indeterminacy of your own structure, your own knowledge, your own future , one of the large control systems that you have in your head and in your body says… that for survival of the individual and survival of the race, these are the railroad tracks you have to travel. That may or may not be true. And we know that it’s true within certain limits, but these limits probably can be enlarged. We also know that in the software of your own brain, the province of your own mind, this is not really that necessary. We have sufficient computing capacity within our own structures, our own brains, so that we can turn over to a very small part of that computing capacity for the necessary programs for survival…you can have alternative futures, you can have alternative programming you don’t have to keep going round and round survival tape loop…”

- John C. Lilly

Oppression is not merely in the physical, economic, or material sense. Nor is it merely large entity versus the small entity. Oppression is often an ideologically materialistic , passive means of asserting dominance over the essence of creativity, true expression and new ideas. Oppression in its most basic form can be a concocted collection of institutionalized assumptions that repress possibilities of creative thinking.

Furthermore, we cannot underestimate the power of mediums themselves. To ignore the power of the medium or to maintain our ignorance to the medium is to refuse excellence in our art, thinking, and profession. This lack of awareness of the medium may be a direct hindrance to happiness and enjoyment in life.

For those not in a constant state of fight for survival, what must be obtained is the consciousness of the evolving medium that is the communication of our digital selves (avatars).

And so the title [The Medium is the Massage] is intended to draw attention to the fact that a medium is not something neutral — it does something to people. It takes hold of them. It rubs them off, it massages them and bumps them around, chiropractically, as it were…

— MM

Mediums: the intervening substance through which impressions are conveyed to the senses (or that force that acts on objects at a distance.) are indeed very powerful. Ultimately, our experience in the material sense is exactly that, a stimulating encounter with that information derived from the senses (engagement with the unseen and seen, where material objects have the leading role). This means that the objects we encounter in themselves are created works, and therefore can have just as much impact (or more) than those objects that we call and designate as “art”(those objects which we intend to be treated, viewed, and considered to be “works of art”).

We are not at odds with ideas solely, or primarily (as many might suggest). We are at odds with objects and their suggested implications. We are at odds with the roles that we have assumed and the mediums which carry the polarizing and sometimes offensive ideas.

The medium is allowed to carry a concept or an idea and present it to the eye or ear, and in many cases, when the viewer gives those ideas credence, the medium , as well as it’s objective is able to stealthy infiltrate the attitudes, moods and modes of the now subdued perceiver.

“It is a matter of the greatest urgency that our educational institutions realize that we now have civil war among these environments created by media other than the printed word.”

— MM

II.) IDEOLOGY and COMMODITIES

“Ideology is not simply imposed on ourselves. Ideology is our spontaneous relation to our social world, how we perceive each meaning and so on and so on. We, in a way, enjoy our ideology. To step out of ideology, it hurts. It’s a painful experience. You must force yourself to do it.”

- Slavoj Zizek , [Perverts Guide to Ideology, 2012]

If objects as mediums have a profound and sometimes subliminal impact on our perception, then we must also look at commodities of industry. Commodities help establish class and class systems.

Certain objects are often appreciated by those families of certain classes that train their young to appreciate those very objects as well as their cultural significance. These activities and objects, of course, are often guarded by characteristics of economic inaccessibility.

The nature of the fine arts, more specifically oil painting, collectively, helped reinforced a sense ownership, commodity fetishism, and high classism.

“From 1500 to 1900 the visual arts of Europe were dominated by the oil painting, the easel picture, this kind of painting had never been used anywhere else in the world before. The tradition of oil painting was made up of hundreds of thousands of unremarkable works hung all over the walls of galleries and private houses rather in the same way as the reserve collection is still hung in the National Gallery …European oil painting unlike the art of other civilizations and periods placed a unique emphasis on the tangibility. The texture, the weight. the graspability of what was depicted. What was real as what you could put your hands on…. the beginning of the tradition of oil painting, the emphasis on the real being solid was part of a scientific attitude but the emphasis on the real being solid became equally closely connected with a sense of ownership.”

— John Berger, Ways of Seeing

Imagine two individuals from very different classes. One is highly rich and the other very poor. It is easy to imagine that in some oil paintings of the 1600s, those wealthier individuals will likely have a different relationship and attitude towards those paintings (especially if they see themselves reflected in those very works).

Many argue for equal representation of minority groups in mass and popular media. If one sees themselves in the artwork around them, then their perception of the world will change.

It is my argument that not only “fine art” or oil paintings in todays era are a reflection and establishment of classes and class structures, but rather, almost any commodity, product, or medium can have a very similar affect. All of these subjects, and how we interact with them, are reflections of class structures and belief systems.

Objects, in a way, force individuals to consider their options and reality in a very specific and sometimes narrow way. It can greatly limit what one perceives to be possible for them within a society. These assumptions further perpetuated by objects and mediums can systematically eliminate the thought of new and positive possibilities that otherwise gain access to the mental faculties of the higher classes.

This can be simply understood as the impact of design on the psyche. Those who appreciate and know that design can affect our reality and our relationship with it know how important aesthetic and utility can be.

The late John Berger, art critic well known for his work entitled “Ways Of Seeing” explains that previously oil painting would show a class of individuals as they were, with their materials and land and lifestyle. These oil paintings reaffirmed their positions in their reality. And on the contrary, our modern era of publicity and advertisement displays a fantasy of who we are not, but wish to one day be. For the modern era, it is not simply about the product but the fantasy and attitude that the product will grant us.

“It was already Marx who long ago emphasized that a commodity is never just a simple object that we buy and consume. A commodity is an object full of theological, even metaphysical, niceties. Its presence always reflects an invisible transcendence. And the classical publicity for Coke quite openly refers to this absent, invisible, quality. Coke is the “real thing”.

— Zizek

A commodity appears at first sight an extremely obvious, trivial thing. But its analysis brings out that it is a very strange thing, abounding in metaphysical subtleties and theological niceties….. as soon as it emerges as a commodity, it changes into a thing which transcends sensuousness.

— Karl Marx, Capital (1867)

III. HABITUS

In sociology, Habitus comprises socially ingrained habits, skills and dispositions. It is the way that individuals perceive the social world around them and react to it. These dispositions are usually shared by people with similar backgrounds (such as social class, religion, nationality, ethnicity, education and profession).

“Habitus also extends to our “taste” for cultural objects such as art, food, and clothing.

In one of his major works, Distinction, [Pierre] Bourdieu links French citizens’ tastes in art to their social class positions, forcefully arguing that aesthetic sensibilities are shaped by the culturally ingrained habitus.

Upper-class individuals, for example, have a taste for fine art because they have been exposed to and trained to appreciate it since a very early age, while working-class individuals have generally not had access to “high art” and thus haven’t cultivated the habitus appropriate to the fine art “game.”

The thing about the habitus, Bourdieu often noted, was that it was so ingrained that people often mistook the feel for the game as natural instead of culturally developed. This often leads to justifying social inequality, because it is (mistakenly) believed that some people are naturally disposed to the finer things in life while others are not.

— Social Theory Re-Wired

“The meaning of a painting no longer resides on it’s unique painted surface, which it is only possible to see in one place at one time. It’s meaning ,or a large part of it has become transmittable. It comes to you, this meaning, like the news of an event. It has become information of a sort.” — Justin Berger

In conclusion, I believe that once we acknowledge the affect commodities have on the world beyond their implied and immediately described purpose, if we acknowledge their assumed magical qualities, we will understand that mediums and commodities create a very particular context by which we view ourselves within the world.

These objects quite literally create the structural boundaries in which our imaginations dance. These objects influence the distance in which our imagination travels as well as the means of such travel. It is only until we discuss and acknowledge these invisible qualities that we may consider our own rational alternatives to these prescribed perspectives.

If we are to acknowledge at all the boundaries and limitations that are put on artists and subjects of class, if we have any desire to have a say in how our work as artists is perceived and activated, if we want to change any of these conditions in which we live, if we desire to acquire a taste beyond the commonly associated, false identities; we must begin to learn about these materials, their invisible qualities, and the descriptions that are indeed the basis of our culture.

Twitter — @VRAMCPU

[randomfandomimagine]

Fate Is Sealed. Chapter 13

Fandom: John Wick

Ship: John x Elizabeth (OC)

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Nothing seemed to make sense as we left the Continental. My brain felt numb as it made an effort to register what was happening around me. All I knew was that I was suddenly some other place. I blacked out completely. It was hard to focus, but I hardly recognized John’s house.

I hadn’t made a sound. I didn’t oppose as he took me with him. I struggled to stand even with his arm around me. I didn’t flinch when he began treating my wounds. I barely registered the panicked expression on his brown eyes. My entire body felt so numb that I only assumed where my wounds were thanks to John’s delicate cares when treating them.

He sighed, gingerly brushing the hair off my eyes, and squeezed my upper arm. His touch and closeness seemed to help grounding me back on reality. The more I looked at him and noticed the intensity in his glance, the less detached I felt.

“I…” His eyes immediately moved to lock with mine when I piped up. “I’m sorry”

“You did it in self defense” He just said, carefully pressing a cut in my forehead with the antiseptic drenched cotton. “I get it”

“I was so… scared” The frantic nature of my previous close calls was nothing compared to the absolute ferocity in Simone’s eyes, her determination to kill me. Her anger. My anger. “I…”

“Liz, it’s okay” John interrupted me, tenderly holding on to my face to continue his cares when I looked away.

“N-No! No, it’s not okay. It’s not, I did something terrible, even to someone like her” I gulped, wringing my hands thinking about the future. “There will be consequences”

“Not while I’m here”

“John, I don’t want you to-“

“We’re here to protect each other”

“But I don’t-“

John cupped my cheek, sending me an even more intense glance than before.

“Don’t feel guilty, she was no innocent” His thumb brushed against my skin when he paused. “And you acted on self defense. You’re better than what that guilt is telling you”

I blinked away my tears and nodded, understanding that what he was trying to tell me was important. It didn’t help make me feel better, but the fact that he was willing to protect me even from myself made me feel safer. The fact that he still defended me had to mean something.

John nodded too, leaning closer to leave a small kiss on my forehead. I shuddered at the contact, heaving a sigh that seemed to light part of the weight from my shoulders.

Just then I grew aware of Buddy’s chin resting on my knee. I wondered how long the dog had been there for, and brought up a shaky hand to pet his head.

I then jumped in alarm when there was a sudden knock on the door.

Now freezing at the sound, I made eye contact with John. We both wondered who it could be, but said nothing. Being rational, I knew that after Gaige, Simone, Delfino, Dominic and pretty much everyone being dead, there was no one else related to the subject that could want to exert revenge on me. But that wasn’t my biggest concern.

Seemingly calm, John slowly let go of me and looked over his shoulder. He then reached out for the bedside table, where his weapon was, and picked it up.

As soon as he took one step, I held him back.

“No, don’t go” I felt myself shaking, just thinking about him opening the door only to receive a bullet between the eyes.

John seemed to consider it, looking from my hand grabbing his arm back to my face. When the person outside knocked again, he sighed in what I recognized as determination.

“Stay here” John whispered, but I shook my head even as I fought back tears.

“I’m coming with you” I stood up, although my knees were extremely shaky.

I didn’t let go of his arm as we both stood there in silence for a second.

John just sighed as he headed for the door, me following closely and holding on to the back of his jacket. We stopped before the front door, watching the silhouette of a man through the semi opaque glass. Then John opened it to reveal Winston, standing there with the gravest expression I had ever seen him compose.

“Jonathan” He nodded in his direction, then turning to me. “Elizabeth”

“I am not turning her in” John said before Winston could even address it.

“She broke the rules, Jonathan” The latter replied, calmly placing his hands behind his back.

“If she hadn’t done it, that woman would have killed her” John still defended me, his voice low but powerful.

Winston briefly glanced over to me, being shielded behind John’s tall stature, before responding.

“And then Simone would have faced the consequences” Winston simply said. “But it was Elizabeth who shot first”

“I don’t care” John roughly said, visibly tensing up.

“I still have to pronounce her excommunicado” Winston pulled out his phone to back his statement. “And you can’t help her, no services”

There was a tense silence in which they stared at each other, seizing the other up. I tried to speak up, but John noticed and took hold of my wrist without even glancing at me. His silent gesture was enough for me to remain quiet.

Winston leaned his phone against his ear and gave the order, not breaking eye contact with John. Still, there was no defiance in his glance, only resignation.

“It’s done” He said, saving his phone back on his pocket. “Take a piece of advice: don’t get involved”

“I’m not losing her too” Was John’s only response before he shut the door on Winston’s face.

“John” I exclaimed, my mind being too frantic to entirely wrap my head around what was happening. “If you help me, they’ll kill you too”

“They can try” Still holding on to my wrist, he took me with him as he walked further into the house again.

“We need to go, r-right?” I shook my head, trying to put my thoughts into order. “I-I mean, after my house, this will be the first place they’ll check”

“Yes” John held his hands on my hips. “Go and grab all that you can, I have to gather some things too”

I frowned, analyzing his expression. There was no regret whatsoever, only love and determination. It moved me profoundly, but also troubled me.

To urge me, John pushed me a little bit in the direction I was supposed to take. I obliged, although begrudgingly, and returned to his room. I stopped at the entrance, watching the bag with my belongings. I walked towards it and took my guns out of it, holding them in my hands and intently watching them.

I reached out so the tattoo in my forearm was visible under the sleeve. I heaved a sigh, letting the reminder to infuse me with the courage I needed. I told myself that the reason why I had retaliated other times was because I would not sit still, but fight back. And even if death was imminent, I wouldn’t go without a fight.

I walked down the stairs to the hall where I reunited with John, who was carrying a shotgun. He looked at me, his eyes halting on the weapons in my hands.

“Fate may be sealed” I only told him. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t fight against it”

John stared at me for a moment, and there was a spark in his eyes as the corners of his lips curved up.

Outside it was pouring with rain, and the noise of the busy streets confused itself with the heavy pitter patter of the water falling.

It felt like we had been holding our breath ever since we left John’s house. Every car that was too close could be the enemy. Every person that glanced at us could have intentions of hurting us. The paranoia only seemed to slightly die down when we sheltered ourselves into the museum. We walked further into it, side by side. I touched my thighs again, checking that the guns and extra magazines were still there, secure in my pockets. Then I moved my hands up to my nape to secure my soaked hair into a braid.

“We can’t stay here forever” I muttered, watching how John carefully eyed every corner we passed. “We’re not all that safe here anyway. What are we gonna do?”

“Stay alive” He replied, stopping before me just as I finished holding my hair up.

“Do you have a plan?”

“Something like that”

“Is the plan improvising?”

John gave me a look, smiling ever so slightly, but didn’t reply. I challenged him with my own gaze but he still said nothing. A few seconds of silence followed.

“The plan is to protect you” To reinforce his words, John took me by the hand and gave it a loving squeeze.

“Well, mine is to protect you” I grinned, squeezing back. “Guess we’re even”

John properly grinned in return as his thumb caressed the back of my hand. Then he softly let go of it, stepping back to recognize the area.

While I let him do it, I tiredly watched the sights of the museum. I felt bad for not having visited it when I could. Before, I had Gaige after me, but now it was basically the whole city of New York. And I had dragged John into it too.

All my wild fantasies of the things I could do if I were free from this world inevitably returned to me. All the things I had missed out on because of the path my life had been destined to follow. All the things I could have done if only I had a normal life.

I noticed a globe not far from me, so I feebly spun it and watched where it stopped. I imagined myself in that uncharted city, indulging in the luxury of letting my mind wander in that precarious moment.

John’s footsteps brought me back to reality. He returned, shotgun still in hand, and gave me a comforting nod. His eyes briefly paused on the globe before returning to me.

I bit my lip as I realized that we were only prolonging an inevitable fate. I was still going to fight until my last breath, but someone would eventually best us. There was no escape from this situation. Not even John Wick could escape death forever.

“Don’t worry” John must have seen my struggle, because he walked closer to me and lovingly held me by the chin. “We’ll be okay”

I opened my mouth, about to reply and reluctantly agree with him to keep my hopes up, when something caught my attention. John’s shoulders tensed up too, as he spied behind him with the corner of his eye.

Moving on an instinct, John pushed me away and quickly turned around to face the people that had entered the building looking for us.

With the force he pushed me with, I fell on my ass. Still, I sat up quickly and picked up my weapons, ready to jump to my feet and back him up. However, by the time I was on my feet, gunshots had already been fired and there were two bodies on the floor now.

Breathing heavily, I exchanged a glance with John before he averted his gaze to reload his weapon. I avoided looking back to the dead pair of people and walked away from them instead.

“We’re not safe here anymore” John muttered, and I knew he was right.

“Next time let me help” I muttered, holding my guns up. “We’re doing this together, remember?”

John smiled just a little and nodded in agreement. He held his hand out, which I didn’t hesitate to take. And together, we exited the building to face our fate. Together.

My loud panting was muffled by the heavy sound of raining. My hair and clothes were drenched and the only think keeping me from freezing to death was the fact that I couldn’t stop running.

They had found us, and this time it wasn’t just two people. It was a group of at least ten, and they were too athletic to outrun them. Risking losing some speed, I slightly turned to them and shot my gun over my shoulder, managing to hit three of them even in movement. John, running beside me, completely turned around to unload the fury of his shotgun on them, getting rid of four. Unlike the three I shot, these didn’t get back up.

Not wanting to leave him behind and alone, I accommodated my pace with his while waiting for him to catch up. However, John took me by the arm.

I stared at him as I kept track of our pursuers with the corner of my eye. The raindrops that accumulated on John’s wet hair slid down to his cheeks as the curtain of hair was now sticking to his skin.

“Run, I’ll catch up” He said, tightly holding on to my forearm, right over the layers that separated his hand from my tattoo.

“What happened to together?”

“I don’t want to lose you, Liz”

“I don’t want to lose you either, John!”

My heart started speeding up when we silently stared into each other’s eyes. The sound of the rain seemed louder than ever before. There was a certain and electric urgency in the air.

“I love you” John finally broke the silence, causing my heart to jump inside my chest. I had been denying myself the luxury of admitting my own emotions, but there was no lying anymore. Not to me, not to him.

“I love you too” Knowing this could very well be our last kiss, I threw myself to him and smashed my lips against his.

His free hand –the one not holding the shotgun –wrapped around me and desperately pushed me even closer against him. My eyes closed as we deepened the kiss and my arms fell around his neck, bringing him closer myself.

The exchange must have lasted only a few seconds, but time stood still. In that moment all I could fathom was him, my love for him, his love for me. In that moment, everything was alright because we had each other. Because we were together. For only a couple of seconds I forgot we were being chased by people who wanted to kill us on sight. There was no imminent death, no danger, no hurry. Only John’s loving and protective embrace.

I frowned when he broke away and began firing his shotgun. I myself lifted my guns up and prepared to shoot too, seeing as they were already firing. One of their bullets reached me in the leg, causing me to stumble and struggle to maintain balance. John was quick to react, though, and wrapped an arm around my waist to keep me up. That didn’t stop us from retaliating.

Still holding on to me, John fired his shotgun and swung me around when he needed to move. I rapidly aimed and fired, reminding myself that this was life or death and it was far more effective to shoot at the head or chest instead of just incapacitating them.

“I’m okay” I muttered, trying not to pay attention to the burning pain in my leg.

Immediately responding to the statement, John let go of me and began reloading his weapon. I stood before him and covered him while he did it.

“I got you” I assured, shooting left and right before they closed the distance between us or their bullets reached us.

Many faceless goons fell, but I missed one of them with my aim and he looked adamant to finish the job. I quickly turned to John when the other lifted his gun. Cocking the shotgun for him when I realized he was done reloading, I then pushed John out of the way just as the goon fired at us. His arm was already reaching to move me out of the way, but too late. I breathed out when we successfully avoided the bullet directed at us.

John didn’t even think twice, he stood up just as fast he fell –not without acknowledging me by tapping my arm –and took care of that one. I faced the remaining five goons or so, who had been previously injured by my gun.

I created some more distance between them and me and swore under my breath when I ran out of bullets. I didn’t have time to reload while they also carried pistols, so I threw the empty gun at one of them and ran towards them.

John had my back, eliminating some of the others, while I took care of two. One tried to shoot me, but I was too close for that and took ahold of his wrist. I rolled onto the ground, still holding on to him to throw him so he landed with me. Once both of us were on the ground, I kicked the gun away and elbowed him in the face, which resulted in a bloody nose.

Just as I separated myself from him, a distant bullet reached his forehead. Assuming it was John’s, I moved on to the other goon. I took my belt off and wrapped it around his neck as this one carried a knife instead. I tightened my hold on his throat, but he broke away by cutting the belt with his knife. I stumbled with the sharp movement, but remembering I had one of my own, I sank my blade on his neck until he stopped struggling.

I turned to the sound of gunfire just as it stopped. My heart continued to race in my chest, and my lungs begged for more oxygen after the physical strain. The rain still surrounded me, continually falling onto my head and drenching me even more than I already was. Part of me hoped the water washed away all the blood and the reminder of the violence, but I pushed that thought away.

I ran closer to the jumble of bodies on the ground, trying to recognize if anyone was moving. I stopped dead in my tracks when I spotted a familiar figure lying face down on the floor, motionless. I was out of breath, my brain frantically working trying to comprehend what my eyes were seeing. What my heart refused to believe, that the bloody person lying in the ground was indeed John Wick.

Tag list: @lea-kenneth / @lookinsidemyhead / @ciccithedreamer / @writerandee / @contanto-que-voce-me-queira / @recentcrib8422 / @anita-e-taylor / @elena-mayfair / @fyspidey / @mell-bell / @yes-captainstark / @quentinbecksass / @buckysjuicyplums / @misfvit / @e-lysium / @alluna-naozumi / @alainabooks143 / @superbateclipseclod / @angelenemies / @hopeinahotbox /

@deaadenn / @spacepari / @piaeforever21 / @thecraziestcrayon / @homeybadger

[ambssssssssss]

The Scars We Carry

Part 4 of Found

Summary:

Valentina is there, she's home and safe, but she's not okay yet. She's scared and still fighting. Juliana knows she won't always have to fight, but she'll be there to love Valentina anyway. Scars and all.

Word count ~20,000

Read it on AO3 or below the cut

She knows she’s dreaming, she knows the chains on her wrists are imaginary, the marks on her back have long since healed over. She knows that when she opens her eyes, she’ll be safe and warm and laying next to the woman she loves. The rational side of her brain knows this, and knows that Juliana will wake up to comfort her, even if that comfort is simply sitting with the lights on. She knows Juliana will hold her if she asks, will smooth her hair back and whisper reassurances in her ear until she feels safe enough to drift back to sleep. She also knows the cycle will repeat itself over and over again, as it had done every night. 

As much as Valentina wants to curl up in Juliana’s arms and let her sooth her fears, she can’t. She doesn’t feel like she deserves to reach for Juliana anymore, not after what she did. Not knowing the crimes that weigh on her shoulders, the blood that stains her hands. Juliana didn’t deserve that burden and Valentina refused to give it to her. 

Instead, Valentina suffers in silence each night she spends with Juliana, laying close enough to feel her warmth but holding herself back from reaching out. It seems like they play a game of wills each night, waiting for the other to fall asleep. Valentina always wins, even when she doesn’t want too. Juliana isn’t accustomed to running on such little sleep, not in the same way Valentina is. It’s one of the many reasons Valentina doesn’t think she should be staying with Juliana. 

"I think I should move back into the mansion."

Valentina’s whispered words echo in the dark bedroom. She and Juliana lay side by side in Juliana’s bed, both of them looking up at the ceiling. Juliana turns to lay on her side when Valentina speaks. 

“Do you think it will help?” She keeps her voice low, resisting the urge to reach out and touch Valentina. She feels so close and still so far away. 

“I don’t know.” Valentina turns her head to look at Juliana. Her eyes are still haunted, cloudy. Everyday they try to move on from Vacio, it feels like they move further away from each other. It’s the last thing Juliana wants but she doesn’t know how to stop it from happening. “But I can’t keep doing this to you.” 

“Val,” Juliana does reach out now, settling the palm of her hand on the center of Valentina’s chest, “you’re not hurting me.” 

“Maybe not now,” Valentina’s eyes fall closed and she took a deep breath, “but we both know I’m not okay.” 

It’s a hard truth to admit. Alacran died over a month ago and Valentina had yet to sleep through the night. Everytime she closed her eyes she was back in captivity, only this time the torture she endured wasn’t directed at her. She saw Eva and Lucia, Guille, all being whipped just as she had been, destroyed and broken down inch by inch and all she could do was stand by and watch. Those dreams were nothing compared to what her dreams conjured up when Juliana was the one being tortured. It was easier not to sleep. 

“What happened to ‘I’ll always come home to you’?” Juliana expects Valentina to react to her question somehow, maybe tense up or push Juliana away, accuse her of twisting Valentina’s words. Instead, Valentina keeps her eyes closed and releases a sigh. 

“I will,” her voice is soft, a hint of something in her tone that Juliana can’t identify. Maybe she doesn’t want too. “But I think I need to come home to me, first.” 

“I don’t want to lose you,” it’s a whispered confession to match Valentina's from earlier. It’s the one thing Juliana is really scared of: losing Valentina to demons that she can’t help fight off. 

“There’s not a ‘me’ to lose. I don’t know who I am anymore.” Valentina shifts in the bed, moving closer and pressing her forehead against Juliana’s. It’s the closest she would get to kissing her since the night she woke up. “Until I do, I can’t do this.” 

“I don’t want this to feel like another goodbye,” Juliana can feel the tears filling her eyes, trying to blink them away only makes them fall faster. “I love you.” 

“I love you,” Valentina’s lips are a breath away from Juliana’s. “Which is why I need you to let me go for a little while.” 

Juliana knows that Valentina is right, she knows how hard it can be to love someone when you can’t love yourself. There was a time that Juliana had thought her ability to love died right beside Valentina, she knew she would never love anyone the way she had loved Valentina. She remembers the days she struggled to think she was worthy of anyone’s love, having grown up with a sicario father and well-meaning but absentee mother. She remembers Valentina showing her what love was like, and sometimes, love was waiting. Waiting for the one you loved to come back, to come home. Juliana had waited for three years, she could wait longer. She’d wait forever if Val asked her too. 

“Take all the time and space you need,” Juliana whispers. “But I am not letting you go.” 

Juliana leans in and kisses her then, like she’s scared it’s the last time she’ll be able to do so. Valentina kisses back softly, just for a moment, and then pulls away. 

 When Valentina leaves for the Carvajal mansion in the morning, she doesn’t kiss Juliana goodbye. Juliana’s stares at the closed covers of their photo albums and tries to remind herself that Valentina will come back to her, just like she promised. 

~

Her bedroom at the mansion was exactly like Valentina had left it, except for the empty feeling she felt when she stepped across the threshold. Her feet carried her to the far wall, next to her window seat. The surface there was almost entirely covered in photographs, dating back to when Valentina was a child up until the day she disappeared. Valentina fingers the last photo she and Juliana had taken together before she left. It was taken outside, in the hammock, Valentina has her nose buried in Juliana’s hair. Juliana has one arm extended out of frame, her smile wide and eyes closed as she leans into Valentina. 

“We couldn’t bring ourselves to change anything,” Guille’s voice pulls Valentina from her memories and she turns to him. He stands in the doorway, hands in his pockets. He looks unsure, out of his element, like he doesn't know how to act around Valentina anymore. He’s not the only to have acted that way since Valentina returned. “It was hard enough to even come in here.” 

“I guess you didn’t do that often, huh?” Valentina doesn’t know what to do with herself. She recognizes that the room and everything in it belongs to her but it feels too pure. She doesn't want to blacken anything by touching it. She settles for sitting in the desk chair, and tries to ignore the rush of memories that want to over take her. 

“Not really, Chivis did to clean but, I…” Guille looks away from her and swallows hard. “I couldn’t bring myself to be in here, or dad’s office. It hurt too much.” 

Guille doesn’t tell her about Juliana sometimes coming there during the first six months Val had gone, to copy pictures or steal one of Valentina’s jackets to sleep in, or just to feel closer to Val. He doesn’t tell her about the times he saw Eva stood by the door, hand raised as if to knock before she turned away with a sob. He doesn’t tell her about the times he would walk by and close the door because he couldn’t bear seeing the room so unlived in. He doesn’t tell her about the weeks Lucia spent sleeping downstairs because she couldn’t walk past Valentina’s bedroom or enter her own without crying. He doesn’t tell her anything of the pain their family suffered, but he feels like she knows anyway. 

“I know,” Valentina looks at her brother, really looks at him. He looks older, his beard filled out more, his frame sturdier somehow. Valentina wonders how many hours he spent in the gym, trying to beat his pain away on a punching bag or in the weight room. She can see the lines on his face that make him look twenty years older than he is, the way his shoulders slump with the weight of all the suffering he’s endured. It’s not as much as it was when Valentina first returned, Guille like everyone else starting to really believe that Valentina was home for good. She hopes they’re right, she hopes that watching her family heal will be enough to heal her too. 

She hopes her scars aren’t too much to push them away. 

“Chivis is making lunch, whenever you’re hungry,” Guille said. He doesn’t know if he wants Valentina to laugh or cry, or smile. He just wants her to feel, something other than whatever has her heart sitting so low. He’d never seen a woman so bogged down by pain in his life and he’s terrified that the bright young woman his sister used to be died for real beneath Alacran’s whip. 

“I guess I should eat,” Valentina mumbles more to herself, like she knows she should eat but she doesn’t really want to. Guile waits for her at the door and they walk downstairs together. He wants to throw his arm around her shoulders, her wants to tease her about Juliana and ask about her future plans. He doesn’t. 

Once they reach the dining room, he doesn’t notice the bottle of mezcal Valentina slips into her jacket pocket. 

 Days turned to weeks and Valentina starts to feel somewhat alive again. She’s alone for most of the day, while Guille, Lucia and Eva are at work and Juliana is in class. Chivis hovers near her for a little while each day at the beginning but then returns to her normal routine. Valentina spends most mornings running around the land surrounding the mansion, to uneasy to sit still in the house. Sometimes she feels like she spent three years in constant motion, moving faster than possible and now, she doesn’t know how to slow down. She’s afraid if she stops, the shadows she runs from will catch up and devour her from the inside out. 

So she runs, she pushes herself until she knows she can’t push any harder. She knows her limits, knows when to stop so that she won’t worry her family. She knows her family worries anyway, from the way they still linger in doorways, from the scared way they call out her name when she’s not where expected. They worry because she seems to be improving, on the outside. Her skin isn’t so pale, her frame not so thin anymore, she’s stopped reaching for her weapons at any sudden noise or movement. Juliana worries, so, so much. Valentina can see it written on every inch of her when they see one another. 

Valentina won’t let herself be alone with Juliana, not yet. It’s too tempting for her, she wants to fall into Juliana’s arms and tell her about the shadows that chase her, the visions that haunt her dreams. But she won’t. She can’t. Telling Juliana what she feels means hurting Juliana and Valentina swore that no matter what sort of monster she became, she would never hurt Juliana. She tries to resist the pull she has to Juliana, tries to not stand to close, not sit next to her on the couch or at the table, tries to keep herself from reaching out and tangling their fingers together. She tries and she fails, because there are only two times that she really feels okay. The first is when she has Juliana with her, close to her, when she can turn to Juliana and know that she won’t disappear when she blinks. 

The second is when her throat burns with another shot and her mind is too far gone to remember that the shadows that haunt her are bad. 

Juliana is waiting for her by the pool when Valentina decides she’d done enough running for the day. Valentina hesitates slightly at the sight of her, Juliana looks stressed. Her shoulders are tense, she’s playing with the zipper on her jacket absentmindedly. Her eyes are unfocused as Valentina approaches, her lips pulled together in a frown. Valentina remembers a time when she would have wrapped her arms around Juliana from behind, complaining about the heat and how sweaty she was. Juliana would have grumbled and told her she was gross but wouldn’t have tried to leave her embrace. Valentina would have leaned in and kissed her frown away. It feels like a lifetime ago. 

“Is everything okay?” Valentina asks instead as she steps around Juliana to the small table and picks up her water bottle and a towel to wipe her face with. She takes a couple long gulps of her water before she turns to Juliana again. “Juliana?” 

“Hmm? Oh it’s fine.” Juliana snaps herself out of whatever daze she had been in and offers Valentina a smile. “Just some assignment stuff, nothing too important.” 

“Tell me about it?” Valentina requests, half because she wants to know what’s going in Juliana’s life and half because she doesn’t want to talk about what’s happening in her own. 

“It’s nothing,” Juliana waves away her question. Valentina wants to argue that it is something, it’s Juliana’s life, her struggles. It’s something Valentina had missed so much of. Instead Valentina nods her understanding and gestures for Juliana to follow her inside where Chivis would have lunch ready. 

“There, you are Vale,” Eva said from where she was seated at the table, an untouched plate of food on the table before her, “and Juls.” Eva smiles at them, clearly happy to see them walking in together. 

“Hey, Eva,” Juliana greeted as she took her place. Valentina almost took the seat across from Juliana but changed her mind at the last second to sit beside her instead. The smile Juliana sent her said she had made the right choice, but the way her stomach twisted in guilt said she did the opposite. “How’s work?” 

Valentina lets Eva and Juliana carry the conversation, only speaking up when Lucia enters and then Guille a few moments later. Her family had made it a point to come home for lunch everyday since Valentina had moved in and Valentina didn’t know if she should thank them or tell them to leave her alone. Guille and Eva look at her like she could break at any second, like they’re waiting for it to happen so they can be there to catch her when she falls. Juliana looks at her with so much hope and love Valentina almost can’t bear to look back, because she knows that staying away hurts Juliana, but getting closer would only hurt her more. Lucia, Valentina can’t quite make out her expression when she looks at Valentina. It’s not quite heartbreak, nor is it pity, a hint of sadness maybe and also a maternal care but nothing as overwhelming as the others. Or maybe it is overwhelming but Valentina can’t look at Lucia for too long without thinking about her father, so she looks away before she can see it. 

“Val, do you want some more?” Eva’s question shakes Valentina out of her mind and she focuses on her family. They try to look like they aren’t waiting for her to say something and continue their conversation, it doesn’t work well but a part of Valentina appreciates the effort. 

“No, thanks. I’m going to go take a shower,” Valentina leaves the table before the others can reply. She pauses at the door to the kitchen to thank Chivis for lunch before she continues up the stairs to her bedroom. Once the door is closed she leans her back against it, breathing deeply. Footsteps approach slowly, she can hear fabric shift as the person on the other side lifts their hand. Valentina waits for a knock but it doesn’t come. 

“I love you, Valentina,” Juliana’s voice floats through the door. The wood separating them does nothing to muffle the emotion in Juliana’s voice. Valentina turns to lean her forehead against the door and wonders if Juliana does the same from the other side. “I love you.” 

Valentina expects Juliana to say something else, maybe ask if she needs more time, or if she’s okay. Valentina wouldn’t know how to answer either of those questions. She doesn’t know how much time she needs. She doesn’t know if she’s ever going to be okay. But, Juliana stays silent on the other side of the door and the weight of her silence makes something in Valentina shift. Tears fill her eyes and fall but she doesn’t try to stop them. Every part of her wants to open the door, to hold Juliana close and tell her that she loves her too, but she doesn’t. She leans against the door and cries until long after Juliana’s steps had retreated. She doesn’t know how long Juliana stands outside her door or how long she cries. 

Then, when her tears finally stop, Valentina rises and heads to her dresser when she removes one of the bottles of mezcal she had been holding onto. She doesn’t bother with a glass, instead gulping the alcohol down straight from the bottle. It burns her already raw throat and she wants to cry again. 

She doesn’t. 

Instead, she finishes the bottle and hides in her room the rest of the day. 

~

Juliana returns to the dining room and finds only Lucia there. 

“Guille and Eva had to go back to work,” Lucia explains as Juliana reclaims her seat. Her food is still sitting there on the table but she doesn’t feel like eating. 

“Sorry, I didn’t think I’d be up there that long,” Juliana had been up and out of her seat following Valentina before she thought about what she was doing. It was second nature to her, to comfort Valentina when she was upset, to be with Valentina no matter what but everytime she reached for Val only to have Valentina turn the other way felt like she lost a piece of her heart that she didn’t know how to get back. 

“What happened?” Lucia asked softly, curious but not wanting to pressure Juliantina into answering if she didn’t want too. It was a hard time for all of them, readjusting to this new Valentina but Lucia thought Juliana had gotten the worst end of the stick. The love of her life was back, alive and safe but not willing to be together again despite how clear it was that they still loved each other. 

“Nothing,” Juliana shrugged. “I didn’t even go into her room.” Juliana picked at her nails with her teeth. Lucia rounded the table to sit beside her, placing a comforting hand on her arm. “I don’t think she’s dealing with what happened. She’s not healing. She’s still not home.” 

“She might never be,” Lucia said gently, rubbing Juliana’s arm in a maternal manner. “I know it hurts to think about, but the Valentina we knew may never come back.” 

“I know,” Juliana sniffled against the tears that threatened to spill, “I know that. I know she thinks she’s too different now. I just wish she knew that I want to know the person she is now, whoever that is. Whatever she thinks will scare me away, won’t.” 

“I think she does know that,” Lucia reached for the pitcher of water and refilled her glass. “When she looks at you, it’s the only time she seems okay, or like she might be okay. I don’t think she’s worried about scaring you away.” 

“Then what is she worried about?” Juliana asked softly and she sounded more broken than Lucia had ever heard her. 

“I don’t know for sure, but if I had to hazard a guess...I think she’s scared that she’s going to hurt you.” 

Juliana looked up sharply. “She would never.” 

“I know, I know that and so do you.” Lucia held her hands up in the universal sign of I mean no harm before placing her hand on Juliana’s arm again. “But I don’t think she knows that. You heard what that man said in the warehouse, Valentina has one weakness. You.” 

Juliana shivered at the memory of a gun pressed against her temple, the man who had tormented Valentina so much promising to make it worse by hurting Juliana. “But she didn’t hurt me, she isn’t hurting me intentionally.” 

“Maybe she’s scared she will,” Lucia said with a frown, “maybe the fight is over for us but not for her. She was gone for a long time, she was scared and alone and turned into a weapon. Then she came back and had to be saviour for everyone else.” 

“What are you saying?” Juliana asked. Lucia looked at her and Juliana felt as if she was being let in on some sort of secret but she didn’t know what it was. 

“I’m saying, Valentina nearly lost her life to save all of us,” Lucia squeezed Juliana’s arm, “maybe now she needs us to save her, keep her safe and remind her that she’s loved, so she can save herself from whatever demons she created.” 

“What if she doesn’t want to save herself?” Juliana whispered. “What if she can’t?” 

“She can, she will,” Lucia pulled Juliana into a hug and spoke firmly. “She came home to you Juliana, she’s trying to keep you from hurting, even if she’s going about it wrong. She’s still fighting. I know you’ve fought for so long, and I know you thought you didn’t have to anymore, but you need to hold on. We all do. Hold on and trust that Valentina will come home. Can you do that?” 

Juliana nodded because she didn’t know what to say. Lucia was right, Juliana needed to hold on. She had promised she wouldn’t let go of Valentina, no matter how long it took, Juliana would be there, waiting with her heart and arms open for Valentina. She hadn’t given up on Valentina in the three years they had been apart, when she had no way to know for sure if Valentina was even alive. She wouldn’t give up now, not when she knew Valentina could get better. Juliana wouldn’t give up on someone she loved and she loved Valentina more than anything. 

 Juliana left the Carvajal mansion soon after her talk with Lucia and returned to her apartment. She kicked her shoes off by the door and dropped her keys on the coffee table before collapsing on the couch. She ran her fingers through her hair and released a loud sigh, not fighting the tears that wanted to fall. The more she thought about what Lucia said, the more it made sense. Maybe it had been selfish of Juliana to hope things would go back to normal for her and Valentina. She scoffed at her own thoughts. She didn’t know what normal meant for them anymore. Her normal was searching for a woman the world believed dead, Valentina’s normal was fighting in a war no one knew about. 

“She’s closing you out, isn’t she?” Juliana jumps off the couch when the voice reaches her ears, spinning with wide eyes to face the woman she hadn’t realized was in her apartment. 

“Maya,” Juliana holds a hand to her chest to try and calm her racing heart. “I thought you left town.” 

“I did,” Maya takes a seat on Juliana’s couch, “but I thought I should check in. See how she’s doing.” 

“Well, you checked the wrong place.” Juliana plopped back down on the opposite end of the couch from Maya. “She hasn’t been here in weeks.” 

“Hmm,” Maya hums and looks over at Juliana. “You think she isn’t healing.” 

“I think she’s still fighting, but I don’t know how to help her.” Juliana corrects. She plays with the charm hanging from her neck. 

“Maybe you can’t. Maybe she won’t let you.” 

“Maybe not.” Juliana held the silver ‘v’ in the palm of her hand and closed her eyes. “But I have to try.” 

“You really love her,” It’s not a question or a statement, not exactly. Juliana opens her eyes and looks at Maya. 

“With everything I have.” 

“Fight for her,” Maya tells her and then smiles sadly. “If anyone can save that girl from herself, it’s you. You were the only thing that kept her going.” 

“How do you know?” Juliana asks and sits up slightly. She knew that Maya felt something for Valentina, she could see it on her face plain as day, but she wasn’t sure how deep those feelings ran, or if Valentina had ever returned them. 

“She used to call out for you,” Maya looks away, as if the admission hurts her. “Every night, she would dream about you, I could hear her. She’d say your name, mumble to you. I could see her move around, like she was looking for you. Then she’d wake up, remember where she was and hold onto that necklace, just like you are.” Maya gestures at the hand Juliana still has wrapped around her charm. “I bet she still does.” 

Juliana didn’t know how to respond to that and it seemed like Maya wasn’t expecting her too as she continued speaking. “I used to think that if she would forget about you, she’d be better off. Maybe she would have realized what was right in front of her. Maybe she would have…” 

“Maybe she would have loved you.” Juliana doesn’t know what to say or feel. She’s overwhelmed by the amount of emotions she felt over the course of her day. 

“She wouldn’t have, I know that now.” Maya shakes her head and stands up. “Even if she had felt something for me, it could never have compared.” Maya moves to Juliana’s door and places her hand on the knob. Then, she half turns to Juliana again. “She’ll come back to you, I know she will. Just promise me that when she does, you won’t run from her. That you’ll love her, scars and all.” 

“I promise,” Juliana says. It won’t be a hard promise to keep. Loving Val is the easiest thing she’s ever done. 

“Good.” Maya leaves then and Juliana doubts she’ll ever see her again. She wishes she had thought to thank Maya, for staying with Valentina, for being there when Juliana couldn’t, maybe even for loving Valentina. Maya was part of the reason Valentina had survived, she had helped Val come home and for that, Juliana would be forever grateful. 

~

Lucia catches her by accident one night. She had stayed late at El Centro reviewing applications of the recent graduates, and half-way wondering if she would see an application with Juliana’s name on it ever cross her desk. She had seen some of Juliana’s work over the years and she knew she would be a brilliant journalist, but she also knew Juliana had never forgotten her dream of being a fashion designer. Lucia hadn’t realized the late hour until after she had reviewed the applicants and decided to head home for the evening, not expecting to find anyone in the mansion awake. 

When she opened the door, she was greeted by a rhythmic thumping sound coming from near the back. Lucia followed the sound to the workout area Guille had put together beside the pool. The door had been left open, otherwise Lucia was sure she wouldn’t have heard a thing. She took a deep breath to try and prepare herself for what she would see. She thinks, after stepping around the corner, that maybe she should have taken another breath or given herself more time. 

It’s Valentina that she finds, her hands wrapped as she strikes the dummy Guille used to practice boxing again and again. That doesn’t surprise her so much, of all the people living in the mansion, Valentina was the one who slept the least. She was always the last one to bed and the first one to rise, sometimes Lucia wondered if she even slept at all. It wasn’t a shock to see Val awake at such a late hour. It was a shock to see the lines of white across her back, pale and raised slightly. They look as if the scars had been there a long time, clearly healed but leaving a lasting mark of Valentina’s body. Suddenly, Lucia remembers the story Valentina had told them after she and Guille had been thrown into the room with them at the warehouse. She remembers the hollow voice Valentina had spoken with as she described the way Alacran had tortured her, the sting of the whip against her back. 

“Valentina,” Lucia watches as Val’s shoulders tense and she turns, arms held up ready to defend herself. She’s breathing hard, her body covered in sweat but it’s not seeing that breaks the damn in Lucia. It’s when Valentina’s eyes widen and she wraps her arms around herself, trying to hide herself. It’s the way she opens her mouth to say something but no sound comes out. It’s when Valentina tries again and this time there is a sound, a heart wrenching sob escapes her and she drops to the floor. Lucia realizes that half the moisture on Valentina’s face is tears and she feels something in her break. 

She’s beside Valentina in a second, unsure how to proceed but wanting nothing more than to comfort the young woman who had become a daughter to her. Valentina shifts, moving so her back is facing away from Lucia. Lucia looks around and spots a towel on a chair nearby, and reaches for it. She holds it up fully, spreading her arms out. Valentina watches her closely as she approaches again. Lucia holds her breath as she wraps her arms around Valentina, using the towel as a buffer so she doesn’t touch Valentina’s skin. Valentina cries harder. 

“I’m sorry,” Valentina says through her sobs, “I’m so sorry.” 

“Shh, shh, Vale.” Lucia runs her fingers through Valentina’s sweaty hair to sooth her. “I don’t understand why you are apologizing.” 

“I came back,” Valentina moves like she wants to pull away from Lucia but Lucia holds her tighter. “I came back, I’m alive. Papi isn’t.” 

“Oh, Val,” Lucia feels Valentina’s sink further into her and she wonders if this is part of the reason Val had been so distant. She wonders if this is part of the battle going on inside Valentina’s mind and curses herself for not thinking of it sooner. Valentina had been gone for so long, fighting so hard, she never had the chance to mourn her father. “It’s not your fault, mija.” 

“Why didn’t they take me too?” Valentina asks and Lucia feels what’s left of her heart shatter. “Why did we have to lose him?” 

“I don’t know why, Valentina. I wish I did.” Lucia kisses Valentina’s forehead and holds her tighter. She doesn’t care that Valentina has cried a wet spot onto her shoulder, that she’s shaking from her sobs or probably ruining the slacks she wore to work. All she cares about is helping Valentina and she doesn’t know how to do that. 

“I miss him, Lucia. I miss him so much,” Valentina takes a shuddering breath. 

“I do too, Val, every day, but I know one thing.” Lucia felt Valentina pull back and looked down at her. The question that she can’t voice is in her eyes. “He would rather you be here, safe and alive, than be wherever he is now.” 

“You can’t know that.” Val looks away from Lucia. 

“I can, because I know how he felt for his kids.” Lucia pulls Valentina back against herself and rocks slightly. “He loved you and your siblings more than anything. He wanted you to live and be happy, and he still wants that now.” 

“I don’t know how to do that anymore.” Valentina admits. “I don’t know how to feel anything but scared.” 

“It’s okay to be scared.” Lucia strokes Valentina’s hair again. Her sobs have lost some of their intensity but she still feels Valentina’s shoulders shake. “Most people are. I am, and I know Guille and Eva are as well. And Juliana.” 

Valentina looks up at Lucia again, as much as she can without moving her head from Lucia’s chest. Lucia wonders if this is what it had been like when Val was a child, before her mom passed. She hoped that, wherever she was, Leon’s first wife approved of Lucia taking on this role of maternal comfort. Lucia knows that Valentina wants to ask about what scares Juliana but can’t bring herself to say the words. 

“She’s scared that you don’t love her anymore. Juliana’s scared that you won’t let her love you.” Lucia feels the breath Val releases and the flutter of her eyelashes against her neck. 

“I don’t know how to.” Valentina pulls away from Lucia completely and Lucia lets her go. Valentina wraps the towel around herself as she goes, hiding her scars from view. “I spent so much time fighting against the world, I don’t know how to live in it anymore.” 

“Let us help you,” Lucia stood when Valentina did but didn’t try to approach her again. She could see Valentina closing herself off. “I promise we aren’t going to run away. Juliana won’t leave you.” 

“Maybe she should.” Valentina half turns to Lucia and there’s more emotion on her face than Lucia seen in the full two months that had been back. Valentina shakes her head and her face is a blank mask again. “It’s late, you should get some sleep.” 

She’s gone before Lucia can reply. Lucia makes it to her bedroom before her knees give out and she collapses on the floor. She cries, cries for everything Valentina lost, cries for their family, cries for Leon and Juliana, until her throat aches and her eyes sting and there’s no tears left for her to cry. She hauls herself up and into bed after stripping off her work clothes and lays awake against the pillows. She tries to think of something she can do to help Valentina, but she fears there’s nothing that can be done. 

After all, no one can save the people who don’t want to be saved. 

~

“How are you doing, mija?” Lupe asks her daughter. Their sitting together on the couch in the house Lupe shares with Panchito. Panchito is in the kitchen, cooking dinner for the three of them. It’s supposed to be a party, a celebration for Lupe and Panchito who had finally decided to get married. Juliana was happy for them, unbelievably so. Her mother deserves all the happiness in the world. Still, Juliana didn’t feel much like celebrating. “And Valentina? I was hoping to see her soon.” 

“I’m…” Juliana closes her eyes for a second. “I’m here.” 

“I thought since she was back…” Lupe trailed off, her smile fading as Juliana closed her eyes again and leaned her head back against the wall, “I thought you said she was getting better.” 

“I thought she was,” Juliana ran her fingers through her hair. “We were good, the first few days. Right after she woke up. We were together and it wasn’t perfect but it was okay. She was there, I could feel her there. But then,” 

“What happened?” Panchito asked, entering from the kitchen with a towel over his shoulder. He crossed his arms over his chest and rested against the arm of the couch beside Lupita.

“I don’t know. She stopped sleeping, stopped eating. She would barely speak and sometimes she would look at me like…” 

“Like what?” Lupe asked, holding Juliana by the arm to keep her from turning away of hiding. 

“Like she thought I wasn’t real. It was like she could stare right at me and not see anything.” Juliana felt the tears filling her eyes and fought to keep them from falling. “She broke down the other day, Lucia told me. Whatever battle Valentina’s still fighting, Lucia thinks she’s about to give it up. We don’t know what will happen if she does.”

Lupe and Panchito looked like they wanted to press for answers, ask about Valentina’s breakdown but neither felt it would be right to discuss something like that without Valentina’s consent. Instead Lupe pulls her crying daughter into her embrace. Panchito moves so he can rest a comforting hand on Juliana’s shoulder. They sit like that for a long time, Panchito only leaving for a moment to keep the food from burning. When he returns, Juliana has sat up slightly and is wiping at her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she says, and the crack in her voice breaks her mother’s heart. “We’re supposed to be celebrating.”

“You don’t have to apologize, mija.” Lupita wipes a stray tear away. “I know.”

Lupita remains on the couch as Juliana gets up and heads to the washroom for a moment alone. Panchito sits beside her and takes her hand. Lupe leans into him gratefully but keeps the tears that want to fall from doing so.

“She’s so strong,” Panchito whispers softly. “If something like this had happened to you, to us…” he trails off, the thought alone enough to break his heart. “I don’t know how she stays so strong.”

“She doesn’t know what else to do,” Lupe says, “that girl has had to be strong for her entire life. Valentina was the only one she didn’t have to protect herself from.”

“You’re scared she is now, protecting herself from Valentina I mean.” Panchito says after a moment in which Lupe rubs her fingers together nervously.

“I’m scared that she isn’t.” Lupe shakes her head. “I’ve never seen two people more in love with each other, more willing to risk it all just to be together. I know that hasn’t changed for either of them, and that’s what scares me. Juliana will go to the ends of the earth for that girl, she already has.”

“You think their love will hurt her?” Panchito asks slowly, though he sounds unsure. He knows very little about Valentina, except for the fact that Juliana and she had been together for a long time, but Valentina had been gone for the past few years. He knows Juliana never stopped searching and that Valentina is finally home, and he knows that Juliana still loves her desperately.

“It already has,” Lupita thinks back to the nights she stayed at Juliana’s apartment with her, right after Valentina and her father went missing. She thinks of the nights she spent holding her daughter as she cried herself to sleep, the mornings she found Juliana curled up in one of Valentina’s hoodies and clutching to her necklace like a life-line. “I’m scared that their love won’t be enough for either of them to heal, and this time when Juliana breaks, she won’t come back.”

Panchito doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t think there is anything he can say that would make a difference. He understands Lupita’s fears, she had told him about Juliana and Valentina, how their relationship had developed and how Lupita had struggled to accept it. He saw from a distance as Juliana started to put herself back together, not completely but enough so that he and Lupita were sure she would be okay, over the course of the last three years. He watched Juliana’s expression when she told them that Valentina was home, safe and alive. He saw the devotion Juliana felt and the way she hurried back to Valentina after telling them. He saw it all, and maybe it was because he was a relative outsider when it came to the situation or maybe it was because he was a romantic at heart but there was one thing Panchito was certain of: the love Juliana and Valentina shared would be enough, if they would just give it the chance to blossom again.

~

Guille is watching Valentina, just as he had been all night. Just as he had done every day since she came back home, if he was being honest. It was hard not to, even before Valentina had disappeared. He was her big brother, her had been her protector her entire life and it was difficult to stamp out that urge. She didn’t need so much protection as she got older, especially after she met Juliana and Guille learned that Valentina’s protective streak was much more intimidating than his own. He doubted she needed his protection at all, seeing as he had watched her take on multiple men more than twice her size with barely a scratch but he still felt that urge. He still wanted to be the knight to Valentina’s princess, just as they had been when they were children fighting against the evil witch, played by Eva. He knew he couldn’t be, he knew that the only one who could save Valentina was herself, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to try.

He watched as Valentina knocked back shot after shot, drinking them as if they burned no more than a glass of juice, like a woman who had wandered through an endless desert and finally found an oasis. She doesn’t flinch from the burn, doesn’t react at all. Guille would think she had been drinking water if he hadn’t seen her stumble when she tried to walk. Now, he watched as Valentina slowly sat down next to the pool, staring at the water without really seeing it.

“You’re staring again,” Renata whispered in his ear and he half turned towards her, still keeping his eyes on his youngest sister.

“She’s been drinking,”

“We all have,” Renata reminded him, “it’s a party, that’s what people do.” She gestured around at the room, where everyone but Juliana held some sort of alcoholic beverage in their hands. Even Lupe, who Guille had never seen drink in the six years he had known her, had a small glass of wine in hand where she stood with Lucia and Eva, showing off her ring.

“Not like she has been,” Guille tore his gaze away from his sister for the first time that night to focus on his girlfriend.

“It’s a celebration, mi amor, you said yourself that you were surprised Lupe and Panchito hadn’t tied the knot yet.”

“I know,” Guille had been anything but surprised when Juliana told him that her mother was getting married, but he was happy for her nevertheless. It was strange how close their families had become, although he suspected that had a lot to do with Lupita not wanting Juliana to lose her support system when Valentina was gone. “I’m happy for them, I am, but Valentina…I don’t think she was ready for an event like this.”

“You can’t know th-“ Renata is cut off suddenly by a splash and Guille hears several gasps, glasses shattering as they hit the pavement. For a moment, no one reacts. It’s like they’re all frozen in time, unable to believe what they see. The ice is shattered by Juliana, screaming.

“Valentina!” Juliana cries out, diving into the pool without thinking. Valentina floats in the water, face down and not trying to move. Juliana feels as if she has a thousand ponds strapped to her legs, keeping her from reaching Valentina. She fights against them.

“Val, Val, mi amor, mirame,” Juliana whispers as she reaches Valentina, wrapping one arm beneath her shoulders and turning her body so her mouth and nose are above water again. Valentina coughs, water spilling from her mouth, but she doesn’t try to pull away. “Val, what were you thinking?”

They’re standing in the shallow end of the pool now, where Juliana can easily stand up. She cradles Valentina to her chest, the position oddly reminiscent of the first time they had swam together. Juliana remembers asking Valentina to not let go, remembers Val’s promise not to. Part of her wonder what changed so much to lead them here, part of her already knows.

“I wanted it to stop,” Valentina coughs again and then burrows closer to Juliana. Juliana’s skin nearly burns at the contact. “I just wanted it to stop. I can’t make it stop, Juls, I can’t. I’m so tired.” Valentina’s crying then, hiding her face against Juliana’s neck.

“I’m here, Val, I’m here and I’m not letting go.” Juliana tells her and Valentina cries harder. Juliana kisses her hair, softly, like she’s afraid the pressure alone will break Valentina. Then she looks up, “Guille, help me get her out of the pool.”

Guille snaps out of his stupor and makes his way to the side of the pool, holding his arms out. Valentina mumbles something as she’s transferred to Guille’s arms. Her eyes flutter wildly and she stretches her arm out.

“Juliana, I can’t.” Valentina says and Juliana takes her hand as soon as she’s on her feet again. She steps up close to Valentina, kisses her forehead.

“Shh, Val, it’s okay. I’m here,” she kisses Val again, “whatever you can’t do, I can. I’m here, I’m not leaving.” Valentina nods slightly, still crying.

“We need to get her upstairs,” Lucia says suddenly, “Eva, go pull out some fresh clothes for her, something warm. Guille, can you carry her upstairs?” Guille nods and begins to walk away with Valentina in his arms, following Eva who had taken off at a dead sprint for possibly the first time in her life.

“Juli, are you okay?” Lupe asks as she comes up to her daughter, touching her face.

“She needs me, Mom, I have to go.” Juliana side-steps her mother and follows Guille without looking back.

“I’ll look after her, Lupita,” Lucia says, “I’m sorry this happened tonight.”

“It’s not important, please, make sure our girls are okay. And give Valentina my love.” Lupita waves off Lucia’s concerns and leans into the arms of Panchito as Lucia makes her way upstairs as well. Renata collapses into a nearby chair for a moment and then stands again, moving to collect the cleaning supplies. If nothing else, she could help the Carvajal family by getting rid of the broken glass, and maybe hiding all the alcohol as well.

 When Lucia arrives upstairs, Guille is standing in the hallway, his back against the wall next to Valentina’s door. Lucia can see his shoulders shaking with silent sobs and pauses to touch his head gently. He looks up at her, shakes his head and then looks away. Lucia kneels and kisses his head and then steps into Valentina’s room.

Valentina lays on her bed, shivering. She’d been stripped down to her underwear and Eva dabs at her skin with a towel. Juliana sits beside her, leaning in close to whisper in Valentina’s ear. She pulls back and waits for Valentina to nod, then she looks as Eva who nods and helps lift Valentina up. Being as careful as possible, Juliana removes Valentina’s bra and then slides a sweater over her upper body, taking a moment to hold onto Valentina when she curls into her slightly. The process repeats and Juliana slips Valentina’s lower body into a pair of sweatpants.

“Lucia, can you help get her under the blankets?” Juliana asks, squeezing Valentina’s hands but not moving to sit on the bed again. It’s then that Lucia notices Juliana is still wearing her wet clothes.

Lucia nods, after opening her mouth only to find herself unable to speak. She moves over to the bed and helps Eva maneuver a still shivering Valentina under the blankets, pulling Valentina’s wet hair away from her face and holding her steady as Eva tries to dry the brunette locks a bit. She hears rustling behind her but doesn’t look away from Valentina and Eva until Juliana is beside her again.

Valentina mumbles again, it sounds like something in another language that Lucia can’t understand. She and Eva step back as Juliana slides under the blankets with Valentina.

“Juls,” Valentina’s voice comes out as a low whimper. Lucia isn’t aware that she’s crying until she feels Eva brush a tear away. “Juls, make it stop, please, make it stop.”

“Shh, Vale,” Juliana whispers back to her. Lucia feels as if she’s witnessing the most private of moments but she can’t bring herself to look away. Eva’s hand slips into her own. “I’m here, mi amor. I’m here, I’ve got you.”

Lucia realizes that there’s nothing more she or Eva can do for Valentina at that moment, and starts to pull Eva from the room with her. Juliana catches her eye as they leave and nods once in acknowledgement before she returns her complete attention to Valentina. Guille isn’t on the floor by the door anymore when they step out, Lucia isn’t sure how long it’s been since they went in. It felt like no time had passed at all, but she felt herself become more exhausted with each step she took.

Lucia doesn’t let go of Eva’s hand as she walks to her own bedroom. She pulls the door open and lets Eva step in first before following after, and shutting the door behind them. Eva takes her hand again and pulls her over to the bed. They each kick off their shoes before falling into the mattress and each other without bothering to change clothes.

“I thought we agreed we wouldn’t do this anymore,” Eva says as she curls into Lucia.

“We won’t,” Lucia whispers back and places a soft kiss against Eva’s temple. “But I need you tonight,”

“I need you, too,” Eva turns her face to hide against Lucia’s neck and suddenly she’s crying. Lucia holds her close and cries with her. They could have that, if only for one night, they could have each other. For one night.

 In her bedroom, Valentina slowly comes back to herself. She’s aware that she’s in her room, that someone is holding her and that she’s changed clothes, but she doesn’t know how any of those things happened. She remembers sitting by the pool, she remembers not recognizing her own reflection in the water. She remembers wanting to stop running, to stop hurting. She remembers thinking maybe the water would help. Then, nothing. She groans softly as she turns over and hears a soft murmur in response.

“I’m here, Val,” Juliana says, wide awake but her eyes look far away. She hadn’t realized Valentina was awake.

“Juliana?” Val asks softly, her voice raspy. Her throat aches and she taste what she thinks is bleach on her tongue. “Juliana, what happened?”

“Val,” Juliana looks at her, finally. She looks heartbroken and Valentina knows that it’s her fault. “You fell into the pool, Valentina.” That would explain the taste in her mouth then, chlorine. “You kept saying you wanted it to stop, I..” Juliana stops, her eyes brimming with tears as she looks at Valentina again. “I thought you were trying to make it stop.”

It’s then that Valentina realizes what had upset Juliana so much. Valentina had wanted it to stop, and tried to make it happen, even if she hadn’t realized what she was doing at the time.

“Please tell me it was an accident, Val. Please.”

“I don’t know if it was.” Val admits so softly. She feels Juliana deflate against her, hears the choked sob she releases. It pricks at the edges of Valentina’s heart and she pulls Juliana close to her. Juliana’s tears land against her neck. “I’m so tired, Juliana. I don’t want to fight anymore. I can’t.”

“You don’t have to fight alone,” Juliana says without moving from Valentina’s embrace. “I can help. I want to help. Why won’t you let me?”

“You’ve already spent three years waiting for me, it’s not fair to make you wait even longer. You deserve more than this broken thing.” Valentina feels Juliana start to pull away and braces herself for the goodbye she knows is coming.

“No, it’s not fair, but life isn’t fair. I’d rather wait for you and spend whatever time we can together, happy, than be miserable and alone without you.” Juliana cups Valentina’s face with one hand, seeing the surprise on her face. “I know what life is like without you Valentina, and I hate it. I want to spend my life with you, no matter how much it hurts now. It won’t always hurt, but I’ll always love you.”

“I don’t deserve your love, not after what I did.” Valentina tries to look away but Juliana won’t let her.

“You deserve all the greatest things in the world, you did what you did to survive. You came back, that’s all I care about.” Juliana lifted her other hand to card her fingers through Valentina’s damp hair. “Everything else, the hurt and the pain and the demons that come with it, we can face together. I’m not letting you go, not ever.”

“I don’t know when I’ll be okay again. I don’t know if I can be okay again.”

“I know,” Juliana wipes a tear Valentina wasn’t aware had fallen. “I won’t leave, Valentina, I promise. I’m always with you.” Juliana taps the silver ‘j’ hanging from Valentina’s neck and then the ‘v’ around her own. “Just like you’re always with me. Whatever scars you carry, they won’t scare me away. We’re forever, just like we promised.”

“I’m sorry I can’t love you the way you deserve.” Valentina feels Juliana rest their foreheads together.

“You love me perfectly, Valentina, you always have.” Juliana wants to kiss her, knows it would be so easy to close the space between them and connect their lips. But, she also knows Valentina isn’t ready for that yet. There’s still too much pain for it to feel right, so Juliana moves so she can press her lips to Valentina’s forehead instead.

It’s not perfect, and it still hurts so much, but it’s a beginning. It’s the door opening enough for Valentina to see that she can step through, if she wants. It’s the first of the many pieces of their hearts coming back together.

~

It’s easier for Valentina to talk to someone she doesn’t know, someone she’s not attached too. It takes a couple tries to find the right person, but she does. Barbara, as she has her clients call her, is an eccentric woman. Her office is set up more like a child therapist’s, with knick-knacks and odd bits and bobs scattered around the room for her clients to fiddle with during their appointments. She burns different incense for each patient, but the scents all blend together into a comforting floral aroma. It reminds Valentina of when she used to walk through the garden with her mother. Barbara asks Valentina questions about her life, the people she spends her time with, her interests, her dreams. It feels pointless to Valentina, until later on, several sessions after she started therapy, when Barbara asks about her shadows. Valentina describes them slowly, jumbling her words and stumbling over some of them but eventually she gets to where she can speak freely with Barbara. She starts to feel like she can trust Barbara, like she’s in a place where she doesn’t have to be prepared to fight every second. Still she struggles to make any progress at all. 

It takes several difficult conversations for Valentina to voice that she doesn’t feel any different. She’s standing by the window when she finally does, her fingers twisting together because she doesn’t want to turn and see the disappointment on Barbara’s face in order to grab one of the many fidget gadgets on the table.

“Nothing’s changed, this has been pointless.” Valentina says without looking away from the window. She hears Barbara shift in her seat. 

“Why do you feel that way?” Barbara asks, gently but in a way that Valentina knows she’s expecting an honest answer. 

“I don’t feel any different. I still feel like I’m fighting.” Valentina replies. She hears the soft swish of paper moving as Barbara moves in her seat. There’s a soft thud and then a clatter as Barbara sets her notepad and pen down on the table. 

“Valentina, I’m going to ask a question and I want you to be completely honest with me.” Barbara says. Valentina nods her head, still facing the window. 

“Do you want to stop fighting?” Barbara asks. She see’s Valentina’s shoulders tense. 

“Yes.” Valentina says, her voice is low. She isn’t sure if it’s a lie or not. 

“Prove it.” Barbara says, a challenging lilt to her words. Valentina turns her head sharply, eyes boring into Barbara’s. Barbara doesn’t back down. “You’ve accepted that you have PTSD, you say you understand what that means, but you don’t act like it. You said it yourself, you’re still fighting. You’ve already learned how you can start winning, why are you still at a stalemate with yourself?” 

“Because what if it doesn’t work? What if I never get better? What if I can’t be okay?” Valentina yells, turning completely to Barbara and then moving to the couch where she collapses. 

“I’ll tell you a secret, Valentina,” Barbara begins, “if you don’t think you can get better, then you won’t. Therapy only works if you want it too. I can’t help you if you won’t help yourself.” 

“I don’t want to keep fighting. I’m so tired.” Valentina leans her head back against the couch. 

“Okay,” Barbara says. “Valentina, you can get better, you can learn to live again. But only if you want to. You don’t have to be tired. But you need to understand that you may never be the same again, and there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s okay to be different. Can you accept that?” 

“I don’t know,” Valentina says, playing with the silver charm hanging around her neck. “But I want to try.” 

“Okay,” Barbara smiles. “Then let’s talk about your nightmares. Did any of the breathing techniques we went over help?” 

There’s a shift after that day, one that doesn’t seem all that important at first. It’s Valentina’s first step through the door she had opened that night with Juliana, the first time she agreed to try. It happens slowly, like a storm building up. She can feel the rain coming, feel it’s cleansing aura gaining power but she doesn’t know when the downpour will strike but she knows that it will, and she wants to be ready for it. 

The next sessions are somehow harder and easier at the same time. Valentina starts to feel less heavy inside but her progress still feels slow. There are the days when all she can do is run, there are days where she has to force herself not to cry, there are days when she stares at a bottle of mezcal so long she can almost taste it. Those days are the worst, when Valentina wants to hide but can’t without having to start over. She hates feeling like she failed, like she can’t get better. She’d given in to the temptation to drink twice since she started seeing Barbara, both times felt like she had broken a promise. Barbara tells her it’s okay to fall, as long as she gets back up and tries again. It hurts like hell but it’s part of the reason Valentina trusts Barbara, because in all the months she’s been visiting Barbara had made an effort to prove herself trustworthy and part of that was never sugarcoating the truths Val needed to hear. 

One day she asks why Barbara spent so much time building the trust.

“In my experience, people with PTSD won’t open up to people they know or complete strangers. It’s a delicate balance. Of course, each patient is different, no two people share the same trauma, but it helps when they can control the flow of information.” Barbara explains. It makes sense, Valentina thinks. She didn’t want to open up to Juliana or anyone else she knows, because they were too close. The other therapists she spoke with were too far away. Barbara hit that happy medium, somehow.

“Have your dreams changed any?” Barbara asks after a beat of silence. Valentina nods slightly and Barbara sits back, having learned that Valentina would explain if she wanted to, when given enough time.

“I don’t dream about being taken captive anymore,” Valentina plays with a small cube in her hand, fiddling with four silver rolling balls on the surface of one side, “or that I’m watching anyone else. Now, I’m just lost.”

“Lost?” Barbara inquires gently after a brief silence.

“Lost. Like I’m drifting across nothing. Sometimes I’m walking through an empty mall, sometimes I’m at home, there’ve been a few where I’m at Juliana’s apartment.” Valentina doesn’t look at Barbara. “But it’s always just me. Alone.”

“No one there that you know?” Barbara asks, tapping her chin thoughtfully.

“No one there at all.” Valentina replies. Barbara prods softly a few times and Valentina admits that it’s like she was with someone, she can see signs of them in her dreams. Blankets and shoes and plates of food that always look as if they had just been abandoned. It’s like she had just missed them, but they had left without looking back.

“Tell me, when your family leaves for work in the morning, how do you feel?”

“Happy, sometimes, because it makes me happy to see that their lives haven’t stopped.” Valentina says.

“And the other times?” Barbara notes the way Valentina tenses, waits for her to speak patiently.

“Scared, and lonely.”

“And why is that?” Barbara stops herself from leaning forward slightly, knowing that such an action would make Valentina clam up rather than open up.

“Because they’re moving on, and I feel like I’m stuck. I’m dead weight.”

“Why do you feel that way?”

“I don’t know.” Valentina tries. Barbara clears her throat and pointedly stares at Valentina. She’d been told that saying she didn’t know was a way to escape saying what she did know, and Barbara wouldn’t let her get away with it. “Because I’m not. I don’t have a job or classes to go to. I’m just here, and I don’t know how to move on.”

“Do you think you’re ready to move on?” Barbara asks. This is where Valentina had struggled in the past few sessions. She wanted to return to life, but she was afraid of what would happen when she did. Barbara had asked that same question in every session for the past three weeks. Each time, Valentina had answered no.

“I think I’m ready to try. Something small, maybe a night course for something.” Valentina says, softly and Barbara smiles. “Do you think- is that a good idea?”

“I think it can’t hurt to try.” Barbara tells her. Valentina smiles a bit and nods. “You’ve been thinking about this, have you told anyone?”

“Not yet, but I did ask Juliana if she knew of any night classes coming up so she probably guessed why.”

“Ah, yes, Juliana,” Barbara nodded, “and how are things between the two of you?”

“It’s different,” Valentina says slowly, switching the cube in her hand for a stack of magnetic balls that begins to wrap around her finger. “I love her, and I know she loves me. But we’re not together exactly.”

“Do you want to be? You’ve told me that a big reason that you came home is to be with Juliana. Is that still true?” Barbara asks. The relationship between Valentina and Juliana intrigued her, their connection was stronger than any she had seen before. Barbara had always believed in soulmates.

“Yes, but…I’m not sure how to be with her anymore. I don’t think we can pick back up where we left off, but I don’t want to start over either.”

“You miss the way it used to be.” Barbara says wisely and Valentina nods. “Maybe she does, too. Have you asked her?” Valentina shakes her head. “Maybe you should. You don’t have to pick things up right where you left them, and I don’t think Juliana expects you to.”

“I don’t know where to begin, or how to ask her. I think that’s what I miss the most. We used to talk about everything. Now every conversation feels too heavy.”

“Then that’s where you start, a conversation.” Barbara tells her. “Talk with her, start building your relationship back up.” Barbara waits until Valentina looks back up at her with a small smile and nod before ending their session, reminding Valentina that she wanted to have the Carvajal family in for a group session soon. Valentina nodded her head and made her way out, pulling out her phone to message her brother. Valentina still felt too jumpy to drive sometimes so she had yet to renew her driver’s license.

“Val!” Juliana called her name and Valentina looked up, more surprised than startled at the sudden noise. Juliana is leaning against her car, dressed casually in jeans and red t-shirt. She looks beautiful and smiles as Valentina approaches.

“Juli,” Valentina says in greeting and they move in for a hug. It’s not as hesitant as it was a few months ago, but not as automatic as it had been before. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“My last class was cancelled,” Juliana explained, pulling back from Valentina to open the car door for her. “I thought we could grab a late lunch?” Juliana suddenly looks nervous, tapping her short nails against the window of the car.

“Lunch sounds great,” Valentina smiles, almost leaning in to kiss Juliana’s cheek. She hesitates for a second, staring at Juliana and then leans over quickly. Her lips connect with Juliana’s cheek for less than a second, but it still feels like a victory. “I’m starving.”

Juliana is still smiling when she climbs into the car and steers them off. Juliana chances as glance at Valentina when they stop at a red light and sees her leaning against the window. She looks lighter somehow, in a way that Juliana doesn’t know how to define. It’s in her eyes, Juliana thinks, the blue hues still haunted but growing clearer as Valentina allows herself to heal. It’s been a hard few months, almost six since Valentina returned to them. She’d been speaking with Barbara three times a week for the last two months. 

“So where are we going?” Valentina asks, pulling Juliana out of her thoughts. She’s looking at Juliana, her face not completely blank like it had been for so long. Juliana can see the hints of hope there now. 

“You remember that burger place in the park?” Juliana asks with a slight tilt to her lips, the corner curling into a half-smirk. She sees Valentina’s eyes brighten and Valentina nods. 

“We ate there so many times in high school,” Valentina says, her eyes grow distant for a moment. Juliana waits, pulling into a parking spot at the park and shutting of the car. She knows to give Valentina time to let the memories play out, as a part of her reconnecting. It only takes a few seconds for Valentina to come back to herself. 

“Red or blue?” Juliana asks softly after Valentina blinks a few times. Valentina smiles at her. It was another part of Valentina’s therapy, a way for her family to check on her without asking if she was okay when she came out of a flashback like this. Red meant stop, let her be, she wasn’t okay and needed to process on her own. Blue meant it was okay to continue,  that Valentina was as okay as she was going to be. The goal was to have more days where Valentina could answer blue, a goal that hadn’t been reached yet but that they hoped would be soon. 

“Blue,” Valentina replies after a second of thought. She doesn’t feel the need to be alone, her flashback wasn’t of the hard times, but of the good. Although those memories sadden her, because she knows there should be more of them, they don’t make her want to shut down. “Let’s get some food.” 

Juliana smiles at her and they both climb out of the car and meet on the sidewalk after Juls locks the doors. They walk the familiar path to the burger stand, hands occasionally brushing together as they move but neither of them feeling brave enough to reach for the other. They don’t speak, the silence between them lingering in the space between awkward and comfortable. Juliana takes it in stride, not pressuring Valentina to speak. It’s almost like it had been before, the intimacy in the way they walked together, two people inexplicably joined without even touching. Valentina wishes it would be like it was before, when being with Juliana was as easy as breathing. When it was something she didn’t have to think about, when everything felt right as long as Juliana was with her. She doesn’t know how to get back to that, or if that’s even possible to get back to. 

“How was your session?” Juliana asked after they had gotten their food and claimed a table, sharing a double serving of fries to go with their burgers. 

“Good,” Valentina answers, Juliana nods and smiles at her. She opens her mouth, ready to move on because she never expected Valentina to open up about what she spoke with Barbara about. That was something that Val had every right to keep to herself. Valentina speaks again before Juliana can change the subject. “There’s actually something we talked about today, about you.” 

“Me?” Juliana asks after swallowing the food in her mouth. Valentina nods slightly. 

“Well, us, really. Our relationship.” Valentina clarifies, swallowing slightly. 

“Oh,” Juliana wipes her hands on a napkin. 

“Yeah,” Valentina picks a loose bit of paint on the table. “It’s just, I know we’ve been in this sort of limbo. We have moments where it feels like we’re us again and then…” Valentina trails off. Juliana reaches across the table and links their hands. “I just wondered if maybe we could start again? Not from the beginning, not completely, but I want us to try. If you want to.” 

“I want to, Val. I promise,” Juliana squeezes her hand, “but are you sure you’re ready? I don’t mind waiting.” 

“I can’t ask you to wait until I’m okay, we both know that may never happen. I want to be with you, I’ve wanted to for a long time, I just didn’t know how to start.” 

“And now you do?” Juliana asks. 

“A conversation,” Valentina smiles. “We used to talk about everything. I want to get back to that, if we can.” 

“We can,” Juliana promises softly, squeezing Valentina’s hand. “And we can start with the night classes that you asked me about,” Juliana reaches for her purse with her other hand and pulls out a handful of brochures. Valentina laughs and accepts them. They finish their meal slowly, discussing the different classes Valentina might want to take before moving on, their conversation moving from topic to topic. It’s not as seamless as it used to be, there’s a few times when the conversation halts and Valentina gets that far off look in her eyes. Still, when they walk back to the car a few hours later and their hands brush together, Juliana doesn’t hesitate to tangle their fingers together. 

~

“I thought we would be meeting with Barbara?” Eva asks as she, Lucia, Guille and Juliana enter the room where Valentina is waiting for them. They aren’t in Barbara’s office but the atmosphere is similar enough that it puts Valentina at ease. 

“Barbara specializes in individual therapy,” Valentina explains. “This doesn't work the same way as that, but Barbara recommended this therapist to me, and I trust her.” 

“I still don’t see why we couldn’t have seen Camilo.” Eva grumbles again. 

“Camilo doesn’t do this sort of therapy,” Lucia reminds her, sharing a look with Eva that tells her to let it go. 

“Okay, okay, fine.” Eva takes a seat on one of the two couches in the room, the smaller of the two. Lucia sits next to her while Guille and Juliana join Valentina on the other couch. 

“Relax, Eva,” Valentina tells her sister. Juliana touches her hand gently but refrains from taking it completely. Valentina had asked her not to, not until after the session ended. It was something she and Barbara had agreed on, to limit physical contact during the session. Valentina had a tendency to stop talking about her trauma when Juliana touched her, something they had discovered when Valentina began to open up about her nightmares to Juliana, after some prodding from Barbara. They both struggled with the urge to reach out for one another, but Juliana had learned to ask when it was okay to reach out. Valentina turned her head slightly and smiled at Juliana. 

“I see that everyone is here,” a voice said from the doorway and the small group turned to see Barbara standing there with a man they didn’t recognize. “Thank you all for agreeing to come today, I’m sorry that I won’t be here with you, but this is Beltran Comancho,” Barbara gestured to the man beside her. “A friend and colleague of mine. He’s here to act as a conversation guide, as agreed to by Valentina and the two of us.” 

“It’s nice to see you again, Valentina,” Beltran greeted her as he took his seat. Barbara took a moment to remind Valentina of their agreement for this session, totally honesty no matter how much it hurts, and then took her leave as Beltran introduced himself. 

“As Barbara said, I am hear to act as a guide for all of you, to make sure you can reach an understanding. Valentina and I have spoken a few times before, and we have come to an agreement about the way we would like this conversation to proceed.” Valentina nodded along to his words. “It is my understanding that you have all been greatly affected by what happened to Valentina, and that has had an affect on your interactions. Now, the point of these sessions will be to discover why that is.” 

“Sessions?” Guille asked after a moment, and Beltran nodded. 

“As I’m sure you have learned with Valentina, it will take more than one hour long meeting to overcome years of trauma. We need to discover the roots of the issue and find a way to overcome them, in a way that will help you reconnect.” 

Beltran paused a moment and then began to outline a few simple ground rules: no lies, no interruptions and had them each make the same promise to truly try in this attempt to help Valentina by coming together as a family again. Then, the first of many emotional sessions started. 

It seemed that not even Valentina knew where to start, and despite having agreed to the honesty policy beforehand, she found herself wanting to lie about what she experienced while she was away. She glosses over the time she spent in captivity, not wanting to relive that with her family again. She’s glad that they had decided to have one person explain how they felt in each session, and then they would discuss those feelings as a group and try to understand one another’s emotions. Since they only have one group session a week, Valentina feels better about waiting for her turn. Still after a session to focus on each their emotions circles back to Valentina’s, she finds herself holding back. 

“Valentina,” Beltran says when Valentina begins to explain what happened after she woke up, “you’re holding back, we’ve discussed this. Total honesty.” 

“I know what we agreed,” Valentina says, “but I don’t want to hurt them. What happened...the things that I did, they don’t paint a pretty picture.” 

“But hurting them isn’t what you’re scared of, not really. So what is it that scares you?” Beltran asks. The family turns to look at Valentina, none of them sure what to expect. 

“I’m afraid it will be too much. They’ll see me as a monster.” Valentina doesn’t look at her family as she speaks. 

“You fear they will turn away from you, despite assurances that they won’t.” Beltran says. “Why is that?” 

“I did bad things, things that I’m not proud of. I hurt a lot of people.” Valentina replies. “I don’t know if they were all guilty or not.” 

“And how does that make you a monster?” Guille asks, taking the question right out of Beltran’s mouth. Guille looks to Beltran like he’s expecting a reprimand but Beltran simply nods and sits back, confident the conversation is back on track. 

“How does that not make me a monster?” Valentina returns uneasily. “I hurt people.” 

“Why?” Lucia asks gently. “I don’t believe that you hurt them because you wanted to, something must have made you. What was it?” 

“Does it matter? I hurt people. I…” Valentina cuts herself off and turns her head so she can’t see any of them. 

“Alacran,” Juliana says softly. “You’re talking about the warehouse and what happened to Alacran.” 

“I never wanted you to see me like that.” Valentina admits. “What I did that day, I didn’t know what else to do. He would never have let us go alive.” 

“You saved us, Vale,” Eva tells her softly. “We could never see you as a monster for that.” 

“It was an awful situation. Something that should never have happened, but it did. You got us out of there, alive. You got out of there alive. That’s all that we care about.” Lucia feels Eva take her hand and squeeze and considers pulling away. She doesn’t, something about Eva’s hand in hers helps her feel okay. 

“You aren’t a monster, Vale.” Guille tells her softly. “We would never see you as a monster, none of us.” 

Valentina nods, looking up at them with tears in her eyes. Juliana breaks their no contact rule and pulls Valentina to her, hugging her as tightly as she can manager sitting beside her. 

“You are not a monster, Valentina. You are a hero. You’re my hero.” Juliana whispers to her and she feels Valentina nod slightly. “Let us save you now, you don’t have to be a hero alone.” 

“Okay,” Valentina says and nods and pulls back. “Okay.” 

They decide to extend their group sessions after that, speaking a little more openly about their struggles. After a few weeks, Valentina realizes her family isn’t walking on eggshells around her anymore. Their hugs come naturally again, not as hesitant. They begin teasing one another again, playful jibes without fear that they’ll go too far. 

Valentina’s dreams shift again, changing so she’s with the people she loves, happy and safe. Then, they leave. Guille drives away, Eva moves half-way around the world as does Lucia. Juliana closes the door in her face and won’t open it again. Valentina calls out for them, begs them to respond, to come back and give her a chance. They never do. 

“What do you think your fear is? What are these dreams telling you?” Barbara asks in one of their sessions, just the two of them, after Valentina explains how her dreams have changed again. 

“I’m not sure. I don’t feel lost anymore. Or like I need to hide away, at least not all the time.” Valentina smiles slightly, her blue days had started out number her red and she felt better than she had in ages. 

“And yet you still have nightmares,” Barbara settles in and falls silent. Valentina picks at a loose thread on her jacket. 

“Not all the time, but when they happen I wake up angry. And scared.” 

“Who do you dream about when you wake up angry.” Barbara asks. 

“My father,” Valentina whispers slowly. 

“What happens in those dreams?” 

“The same thing that happens in the others. He’s there one second and gone the next, but then it changes. I don’t know where I am or how I got there, and I don’t know how to get back. It happens so quickly, sometimes when I wake up I can’t remember where I am.” Valentina hears Barbara make a small noise of acknowledgement. 

“You were there for your father’s last moments, and yet, you were unable to say goodbye. How does that make you feel?” Barbara asks and then sits back to wait. Valentina reaches for a Rubix cube on the table, mixes the colors and turns the pieces aimlessly. 

“I feel sad, overwhelmed.” Valentina focuses on a red colored square. “Angry.” 

“Why do you feel angry?” 

“Because he didn’t tell me why we were going to Spain. He knew about Vacio, Juliana showed me the reports he had and the story he was working on. He knew but he didn’t tell me anything.” 

“What do you think would have happened, if he had told you?” Barbara crossed her legs, folding her hands together over her knee. Valentina kept her gaze focused on the multi-colored cube in her hands. 

“We could have shared the story, at least with the police. He could have worked with someone here to bring them down.” Valentina gripped the block in her hands so hard, her knuckles stood out against her skin. “He wouldn’t have had to get on that plane.” 

“And he wouldn’t have taken you along with him.” Barbara hums slightly. “How do you feel when you think about your father?” 

“Angry,” Valentina says without pausing to think. “I feel angry.” 

“Why?” 

“Because if he had just told someone, it never would have happened. I never would have become this.” Valentina gestures at herself vaguely. “I wouldn’t have lost so much time.” 

“Valentina,” Barbara says. Valentina looks up at her for a moment and then looks away. “It’s okay to be angry at your father. I know you’re angry, and you have every right to feel that way. Do you think you’ll always be angry?” 

“I don’t want to be,” Valentina sets the half-solved puzzle box down. “But I don’t know how to forgive him.” 

“It’s okay if you can’t, Valentina. However you feel, whoever you want to blame for what happened to you, it’s okay.” 

“Is it? Isn’t everything we talked about here about learning to let go? To face what happened and learn how to accept it and move on?” 

“Do you want to move on? If you weren’t angry with your father how do you think you would feel?” 

“I don’t know. Sad, maybe.” 

“Why?” Valentina sighs at the question and Barbara waits for her to speak. 

“Because he isn’t here. He’s the only one who I really lost. When I’m angry with him,” Valentina wipes at her eyes, “I don’t feel scared that I’m going to lose someone else.” 

“Valentina, everyone is scared to lose something. It’s okay to be afraid.” 

“I don’t like being scared. I don’t like feeling angry either. But I don’t know the right way to move on.” 

“There is no right way to move on Valentina,” Barbara tells her, tapping her pen against her leg. “I think you will feel better if you let go of your anger, if you try to forgive him, it will help you. I think it will mark the end of something for you, if you let it. But that’s something that you need to decide for yourself. Just like everything else you’ve learned here, it only works if you want it to.” 

Valentina didn’t answer but Barbara didn’t seem to be expecting her to say anything anyway. 

~

“You’re quiet tonight,” Juliana comments later, watching Valentina from where she sits on the bed. It’s getting late and Juliana knows she should head home soon, but she doesn’t want to leave just yet. She hates leaving Valentina at the end of the day, but she won’t stay, not until she knows for sure that Valentina wants her to. She doesn’t want to push too hard and undo all of the progress they made together. Valentina stands by the window, facing the wall covered in the photographs she had taken, both as a child and now. The newer ones focus less on people and more on feeling, products of the photography course she had decided to take. 

Valentina hums slightly but doesn’t say anything. Juliana waits for a moment before rising from her spot and making her way over to Valentina. She watches her closely, looking for any sign of discomfort. She can’t help but feel proud of Valentina when she doesn’t tense up, even when she looks over her shoulder suddenly as Juliana approaches. 

“Blue,” she says when Juliana hesitates to touch her. Juliana’s arms circled her waist and she feels Juliana’s chin rest on her shoulder. Valentina sighs and leans into the embrace, covering Juliana’s hands on her stomach with one of her own. She feels Juliana turn her head, nuzzle against her neck for a second before placing a gentle kiss there. Valentina closes her eyes and smiles. A part of her can’t believe they’ve made it back to this point. The other part is simply happy to be in Juliana’s arms again. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Juliana asks softly. She feels Valentina deflate a bit, and turns her head to watch Valentina’s eyes flutter open. Her gaze focuses back on the photographs and Juliana traces her line of sight until she finds the photograph Valentina is focused on. 

The photograph is an old one, from before Valentina and Juliana had met. It looks like Christmas, Valentina sitting on her father’s lap, both of them sporting ridiculous antlers. Juliana can just barely make out Eva and Guille in the background of the photo, both making faces at the camera. Valentina looks happy, turned to her father with a joyous smile. Leon looks to be in the process of settling a red nose over Valentina’s. 

“It’s not important,” Valentina says, turning to look out the window. Juliana frowns. 

“Hey,” Juliana moves so she’s standing beside Val rather than behind her. Valentina looks at her, Juliana can see the hints of pain lingering in her expression even though Val tries to hide them. “We talked about this. However you feel, it’s okay. I’m not leaving.” 

“I know, I do.” Valentina closes her eyes and when they open again, Juliana can see that had let some of her guard down. “I’m just...I don’t like the way I feel about this but I don’t know if I want to make it stop.” 

“How do you feel?” Juliana asks, pulling Valentina down with her as she sits on the window seat. They lean against the wall opposite the photographs, Valentina settles with her back against Juliana’s chest, playing with their fingers over her stomach. It had been a recent shift with Valentina, wanting to feet Juliana close when she talked about her feelings but not always ready to face her. 

“Angry, and sad.” Valentina looks back up at the photographs. “Barbara said that it might help if I let go, if I forgive him for what happened. But I don’t know if I can. It’s easier, I think, to blame him for it all.” 

“Do you?” Juliana asks as lightly as she can manage. “Do you blame him for everything?” 

Valentina tenses and Juliana eases her grip, not letting go completely but ready to do just that in case Valentina decides she feels red instead of blue. Valentina feels Juliana’s hands relax their hold but doesn’t pull away. “I don’t know. I want to blame him. Blaming him makes it...easier somehow.” 

“Easier?” Juliana slowly traces her hand down Valentina’s arm in a soothing manner. 

“I’m not scared when I’m angry. It’s easier to feel angry when I’m blaming him.” 

“Is that why you don’t want to stop? You don’t want to be scared?” Juliana questions, still rubbing Valentina’s arm with one hand. 

“It’s stupid, I know.” Valentina shakes her head and starts to pull away. Juliana takes a moment to survey Valentina, making sure she’s not overstepping, before reaching out and keeping Valentina from getting up. 

“It’s not stupid, Valentina. I don’t want to be scared either, but sometimes we can’t help the way we feel.” Juliana reaches for Valentina again, seeing that she’s still blue, and carefully slides her hand through Valentina’s hair to cup her neck. Her thumb brushes gently along skin behind her ear. Valentina leans into the touch and Juliana feels proud of herself for recognizing when Valentina is comfortable being touched. 

“You’re scared?” Valentina asks, turning her head to look at Juliana. There’s a vulnerability to her eyes that almost blindsides Juliana. It’s reminiscent of the way Valentina looked before they kissed for the first time, an overwhelming mix of hope and fear written on her face. In her eyes, Juliana can see the old Valentina meeting the new, but not yet mixing. 

“I’m terrified,” Juliana tells her. “Every day when I wake, I’m scared that when I call, you won’t answer. That you’ll disappear again, and I’ll lose the best parts of me all over again.” She scoots closer to Valentina. “I’m scared that all of this is a dream and one day I’ll open my eyes and you’ll be gone. Really gone.” 

“I never realized you felt that way.” Valentina whispers, and she looks somewhat ashamed of herself, like she had forgotten that she wasn’t the only one in their relationship who suffered. 

“I didn’t want you to,” Juliana rests her free hand on Valentina’s thigh. “I didn’t want you to worry about me, you had enough on your shoulders.” 

“I always worry about you, Juls.” Valentina covers the hand Juliana rests on her leg, tangles their fingers together. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice how you felt. I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you.” 

“You have been,” Juliana smiles, continuing when Valentina looks at her questioningly. “You answer the phone when I call. You send me pictures and tell me how you feel. You’re here, we’re together.” Juliana leans in to rest their foreheads together. “I don’t feel scared when I’m with you, and even when I’m not, it’s getting easier to not be scared.” 

“I don’t know how to not be scared, or angry. Even when I’m happy I still feel that way.” Valentina feels her eyes fall closed. 

“One day at a time, mi amor, that’s all we can do. Face it together, one day at a time.” Juliana promises. The pet name falls from her lips before she can stop it but Valentina doesn’t seem to mind. It feels like they’ve stepped over some sort of line, a wall that each of them had been hiding behind wasn’t there anymore. 

“I love you,” Valentina whispers, nudging her nose against Juliana’s. “I know we’ve been better the last few months, and I know I still have a long way to go, but I don’t want to wait. I love you, I want to be with you again. If you still want that too?” 

“Yes, Vale,” Juliana smiles. “I love you, too. Always.” Juliana pulls back slightly to look Valentina in the eyes. “Are you sure? This is a big step, us being us again. Are you sure you’re ready?” 

“No, but I don’t think I ever will be. I’m different, I know, but I’ve learned to be okay with that.” Valentina smiles slightly. “If you don’t mind having a girlfriend who’s still a little bit messed up I want to give us a try.” 

“I don’t mind if you don’t.” Juliana tells her with a smile. It’s the truth. They’re both a little messed up, they both have fears and anger that it’s hard to let go of. They’re both different people than they were before. 

“I don’t mind at all,” Valentina says and then closes the distance between their lips. 

The kiss is slow and deep, letting them really feel each other again. The dance their lips do is new and familiar in the same breath and they linger in that space after they pull apart. It feels like a new beginning, the start of another chapter in their story. 

When Valentina stands again, sometime later, and pulls Juliana to the bed with her, Juliana doesn’t have to ask if Valentina wants her to stay. They don’t do anything more than lay together, sharing a pillow and staring into one another’s eyes until they both drift. It feels more intimate than anything they shared before. 

~

“You seem lighter now,” Eva says one day. They’re sitting at the dining room table together after breakfast, Valentina with a college application half-way filled out before her. Eva is watching her fill in the blanks, stopping occasionally when her phone lights up beside her. “I guess things with Juliana are going well?” 

“Yeah,” Valentina says, looking up at her sister. She’s been home for eleven months now. She was able to celebrate Juliana’s 22nd birthday with her, and spend Valentine’s day together. “They are.” 

Eva smiles at her sister. She’s almost like she used to be, happy if not quite as carefree. It’s a far cry from the woman who came back. Eva feels like she spent the last year meeting her sister again, learning about this person who wore her sister’s face but couldn’t have been more different from her. It warms her heart to see Valentina living again, even if she knows some days are harder than others. “I’m happy for you, both of you.” 

Valentina stops writing, looking up at Eva. There’s a question in her eyes, one that Eva waits for her to voice. 

“What was she like? While I was gone, I mean.” She asks. Eva takes a moment to consider her words, the question having not been something she expected. 

“She was sad most of the time. She didn’t smile very much, or laugh. She didn’t come around the mansion very often but I would see her at El Centro when she switched to studying journalism. Sometimes we would have lunch together, Guille or Lucia too.” Valentina listens closely, absorbing everything Eva says. “After your funeral, something in her changed. She seemed, I don’t know, lonely still but not as broken. Not as lost.” 

“You worried about her?” Valentina asks. She sets her pen down and leans both arms on the table as Eva nods. 

“I did, Lucia too.” Eva looks conflicted for a moment but then expression clears again. “We worried that she was overworking herself. She didn’t seem to want to make friends, or even try to. She went to class and did her work and then she spent the rest of her time searching for you. Until Lucia found that report in Dad’s office, we thought she was just in denial. I’m so glad we were wrong.” 

“You thought I was gone. Really gone.” 

“We didn’t know what else to think,” Eva smiles sadly. “When they called off the search, thinking you were gone was easier than thinking you were still out there, alone and scared where we couldn’t reach you. But, Juls, she,” Eva shakes her head slightly. “I’ve never seen someone more sure of anything. I don’t know how, but she knew you were still out there and she was determined to bring you home.” 

“You still doubted her?” Valentina said, reading Eva’s expression. 

“For a little bit, yes. It was so hard to believe, but I guess it was silly of me to doubt her. I’ve never seen two people love each other the way you do. It’s amazing, and eye-opening to watch.” Eva falls silent, looking down at her nails. Valentina watches her for a second, her brow furrowing in confusion before realization lights up her eyes. 

“You’re in love with someone, aren’t you?” Valentina says. Eva’s eyes widen and snap up to meet hers. She looks panicked and Valentina offers her a comforting smile. “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me who it is. I understand being afraid to love.” 

This time, it’s Eva who looks confused. “You were afraid to love? Juliana?” 

“Not when we were younger, no,” Valentina explains. “But after I came back, yes. I never stopped loving her, loving Juliana helped me stay strong. But loving Juliana also put her in danger. I was scared that if I showed her how much I cared, she would be hunted. You heard what Alacran said, at the warehouse,” Valentina feels her muscles tense as the memories of that night come back to her. Eva waits patiently as Valentina breathes through it, holding herself steady. When she seems okay, Eva reaches out and touches Valentina’s hand. Valentina smiles at her, a small smile but one that said so much. “It took me a long time to let myself love her again, sometimes I still don’t think I should.” 

“But you can’t help it.” Eva says and Valentina nods. 

“No, she’s the only person I’ve ever wanted to love. I know what it’s like to love her and not be with her, and it was awful. I’d much rather we face our fears together.” 

“What if you have to face more than fears? What if loving someone creates a scandal?” Eva asks. 

“Face that together, too.” Valentina shrugs. “I’m sure Lucia wouldn’t mind, as long as you stayed together.” 

Eva felt her mouth drop open in surprise. “How did you know?” 

“I spent three years learning how to read people, how to find the secrets they don’t want to get out. I don’t mean to, but I can’t seem to turn that off. Barbara says it’s become a line of defense for me, but that people watching, as she called it, isn’t all that uncommon. Most of human communication is non-verbal anyway, I’ve just learned to read it.” Valentina smiles at her sister. “I’ve seen the way you look at her, and the way she looks at you. Just...don’t hold yourself back. Being scared? That’s okay, but maybe you should be scared together instead of worried apart.” 

“You’re much wiser than I give you credit for.” Eva says. Valentina smiles at her and then turns back to the paperwork on the table. 

“Let’s hope the university feels the same way,” Valentina jokes. “Help me finish this before Juliana gets here, I want to surprise her.” 

Eva smiles and let’s her sister use her as a sounding board while she fills out the applications. It doesn’t take very long and Eva has the stack of papers sealed in an envelope and hidden in her purse long before Juliana arrives. 

“Hey mi amor,” Juliana says as she enters the living room where Valentina and Eva moved to after finishing the paperwork. She walks behind the couch to where Valentina sits, pausing to kiss her head, before walking around to sit beside her. “Eva, take the day off?” 

“Didn’t feel like dealing with cranky old men, Guille is much better suited to those meetings.” Eva says, smiling. Juliana laughs her agreement and tucks herself against Valentina. “Your showcase is tonight, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah, which seems ridiculous to me,” Juliana shifted to get more comfortable against Valentina, “what’s the point of a showcase for a paper? Who’s going to stop to read the whole thing?” 

“It’s a big night, chiquita, maybe you’ll get a research grant or something. Wouldn’t that be a fun thing to do for your senior year?” Valentina wraps her arm around Juliana’s waist. 

“Maybe,” Juliana says, “but I’d rather stay home and watch a movie. I can worry about my senior year after this one ends.” 

“We can watch a movie,” Valentina says, “after the showcase.” 

Eva makes her way out of the room as Juliana grumbles under her breath, content to let her sister and her girlfriend spend their time together until they have to get ready for the showcase. As she walks towards her bedroom, her mind drifts back to her conversation with Valentina that morning. 

She would never have guessed that Valentina was afraid to love Juliana, even after what happened in the warehouse. But, then again, she would never have guessed that the carefree girl her sister was would turn into the loving but guarded woman she is. Love changed Valentina, became a weapon that someone tried to use against her. Then, it became a gift, again, something sacred that she shared with another person. Eva wished she had the same strength  that Val did, the strength to love and live out loud. 

“Eva?” She turns when a voice calls her name. Lucia stands in her doorway, looking beautiful but unsure. 

“Lucia,” Eva says. “Hey.” 

“Is everything okay?” Eva shakes her head, holding her hand out. Lucia looks at her carefully and then starts to come forward, taking her hand. 

“I don’t know, but maybe it can be,” Eva says, pulling Lucia further into the room and closing the door. Maybe Valentina was right, they could be scared together. 

“You look beautiful, chiquita,” Valentina says as she wraps her arms around Juliana from behind. They’re both dressed for the showcase, Juliana wearing a beautiful dark blue dress with silver accents, and Valentina wearing black slacks paired with a white blouse. Her leather jacket rests on the bed, waiting until they leave so Val can slip it on. 

“So do you,” Juliana turns in her arms, sliding her own around Valentina’s waist. She leans in her a kiss, her hand sliding further up Valentina’s back as she does. Her fingertips meet slightly raised skin and Valentina tenses. “I’m sorry.” 

Valentina shakes her head, holding Juliana’s arms steady when she tries to pull away. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I just wasn’t expecting it.” 

It’s not the first time Juliana has touched her scars, but Valentina can’t pretend that it doesn’t affect her. It’s difficult for her not to react, a part of her scared that once Juliana’s perfect hands touch her back, she’ll decide that Valentina isn’t beautiful enough to be loved. She’s spoken about the issue with Barbara many times in their now once a week sessions, but she hasn’t been able to overcome the fear. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” Juliana apologizes again. 

“I know, it’s okay. It’s not your fault.” Valentina lets go of Juliana and sits down on the bed. She holds her head in her hands, sighing as she feels Juliana’s hands on her thighs. Juliana kneels in front of her, leaving one hand on Valentina’s thigh to help her keep balance and using the other to cup Valentina’s face. 

“Hey, look at me baby,” Juliana whispers softly. Valentina opens her eyes but doesn’t lift her head. “Listen to me, I know you think your scars are ugly, I do. I understand. It’s okay.” 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I don’t want to feel like this when you touch me.” 

“Baby, you don’t have to apologize for anything.” Juliana tells her, wiping Valentina’s tears away. 

“I miss you, I miss being with you. But everytime I think about us, I-” Valentina cuts herself off with a small sob. Juliana moves to sit beside her, pulling her into a hug. 

“Valentina,” Juliana begins softly. “I won’t pretend that I don’t miss that, too. I do. I miss feeling you against me, connecting with you that way. But, mi amor, I don’t need to have sex with you to be happy.” 

“But you miss it,” Valentina mumbled against Juliana’s neck. Juliana nodded. 

“I do, but you know what else I miss? The pan my mom used to make when I was a kid. I miss my first bike. I miss walking around school wearing your letterman.” Juliana chuckles slightly. “There’s a lot of things I miss, things that may never happen again. Things that may happen tomorrow. It doesn’t mean I’m not happy without them.” Juliana cards her fingers through Valentina’s hair. “I missed you, more than I thought I could miss anything. I can handle having you with me and not having sex.” 

“But you want to, again.” Valentina says and starts to pull away. Juliana won’t let her go completely. 

“Of course, I do. I love being with you like that. I’ve never shared that connection with anyone else and I never want to. If you don’t want to have sex, then we won’t. That won’t make us any less in love.” 

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready for that again,” Valentina whispers. “But I don’t want to lose you.” 

“You won’t, Val. I’m not going anywhere.” Juliana kissed the top of Valentina’s head. “I’m right here with you, mi amor, forever.” 

“Pacto?” Valentina requests softly, holding her pinky finger out. Juliana smiles and wraps her own pinky around Val’s. 

“Pacto.” 

~

“Val?” Juliana mumbles, feeling her girlfriend shifting in the bed. She doesn’t know what time it is, doesn’t even remember falling asleep. It had been an emotional day, for all of them, but she knew it was worse for Valentina. The anniversary of the day Valentina came home had her emotions on edge. She had been switching between blue and red the whole day, sometimes without warning. It had been difficult for Juliana to sit back when Valentina suddenly went red, but she held herself together. Val needed her, they needed each other. 

Juliana rubs at her eyes, trying to wake herself up as Valentina continues to move. She hears a whimper, and then another. A whisper of her name. 

“Juls,” Juliana sits up, turning over to look at Valentina then. Her concern grows when she sees that Valentina is drenched in sweat, the blankets thrown off her body and gripping the sheets so tight Juliana can see her knuckles stand out against her skin. 

“Val, Valentina,” Juliana calls her name softly. Val whimpers in response, her head turning from side to side. 

“No,” her voice comes out a shaky mumble. “Not her. Please.” 

“Val, baby, wake up.” Juliana tries again, and starts to reach out. 

Before her can make contact with Valentina, the woman releases a harsh cry and wakes up, leaping from the bed. 

“NO!” Valentina cries, landing on her feet and whirling to face the bed even as she falls, backing into the corner with her arms raised over her head. She looked like she was trying to make herself as small as possible, hiding behind her arms. 

“No,” she says again, a sob rather than a cry. 

“Oh, Val,” Juliana whispers as she crawls out of bed. She kneels a few feet from Val, speaking in a low soothing tone. “Valentina, honey, it’s me. It’s Juliana. Can you hear me?” 

“It’s not real, it’s not real.” Valentina rocks back and forth slightly, Juliana can see that she’s shaking. 

“I’m real, amor, I’m right here. I promise. Val, can you look at me?” Valentina slowly lifts her head, still partially hiding but Juliana can see the blue of her eyes. “Good, that’s good, Val. Just focus on me.” 

“Juls, I-I don’t know what,” Valentina pants harshly, looking around. Juliana can tell that she hasn’t yet realized where she is, and her panic is making it hard for her to breath. 

“Mirame, Val, baby, you need to breathe. Copy me. Okay? In and out, slowly. That’s good, you’re doing great, Val.” Juliana takes a cautious step forward. “Slow and steady, just like that.” 

“Juliana, I’m scared, I see-” Val cuts herself off, curling in on herself. 

“What do you see?” Juliana asks, stopping her movements towards Valentina. 

“It’s too dark, I don’t know where the shadows are.” Valentina hides her eyes again. Juliana moves to her left, turns on the lamp on the bedside table. She moves around the bed, and turns on the main light in the room. With the lights on, she can see the traces of sweat on Valentina, the way her hair sticks to her skin. 

“Val, mi amor, look at me. Tell me where the shadows are.” Juliana requests softly, kneeling before her again. She’s close enough that she can touch Valentina, but doesn’t reach out just yet. She waits as Valentina opens her eyes again, watches her look around the illuminated room. Her gaze slips in and out of focus until she finally settles her gaze on Juliana. 

“They-They’re gone.” Valentina says, slowly lowering her arms. “They’re, Juliana, I-” Valentina shakes her head as Juliana moves so they sit side-by-side. Juliana waits until Valentina leans into her, the silent signal that she’s okay with being touched, before wrapping both her arms around Valentina and pulling her into her lap. 

“I’m here, I’ve got you.” Juliana promises, rubbing Valentina’s arms and back in soothing motions. She can feel the way Valentina’s clothes cling to her skin, feel the outlines of the scars on her back and makes sure her hand doesn’t linger there for too long. “I’ve got you.” 

“I’m sorry.” Valentina mumbles against Juliana’s neck. 

“Shh, Val, it’s okay. We’re okay. We’re safe.” Juliana kisses her temple, holds her tighter. 

“I was back there, the first time. With Alacran.” Valentina says after a long silence. She’s not shaking so much, but silent tears still fall from her eyes. “I was chained up when they brought you in. I couldn’t save you. I couldn’t do anything. They just kept hurting you. When they did touch me, I could feel your blood on their hands.” 

“What do you need?” Juliana asks softly, cupping the back of Valentina’s head. 

“I can still feel it, feel you I-I don’t know what to do.” Valentina presses herself closer to Juliana, clinging to her. 

“Okay, okay,” Juliana maneuvers her hands into a better position and then carefully rises to her feet, craddeling Valentina to her chest. “I have an idea. Do you trust me?” 

“I trust you,” Valentina whispers, after Juliana doesn’t move when Valentina nods her head. 

“Okay,” Juliana walks them into the bathroom, pausing to turn on the lights and then setting Valentina on the closed toilet seat. She starts to pull away but stops when Valentina clings to her. “Hey, I’m right here, Valentina. Take my hand,” she holds her hand out for Valentina, who takes it and laces their fingers together. “I’m just going to turn on the shower, okay?” 

Valentina nods, turning with Juliana as she moves to the shower. Their arms stretch as far as they can go but Juliana manages to turn the shower on and set the temperature without breaking their connection. 

“Okay, the shower is on.” Juliana turns back to Valentina. “Do you want me to help with your clothes?” Valentina nods her head, then agrees verbally when Juliana asks again. Juliana helps her remove her t-shirt, shorts and underwear and leads her to the shower. Valentina hesitates for a moment, turning to Juliana before she steps under the water. 

“Will you stay with me?” 

“Of course,” Juliana quickly removes her own clothing from her body and steps into the shower with Valentina. They stand under the spray for a moment, Valentina with her eyes closed. Juliana asks if she wants help washing off, and then proceeds to rub down Valentina’s body, gently washing away the physical traces of Valentina’s nightmare. She tells Valentina where she’s going to touch her and waits for Valentina to acknowledge her words before moving. The process is slow going but Juliana can feel Valentina start to relax. Juliana washes the back of Valentina’s body the same way, feeling Valentina shiver as she washes her lower back. When she’s done, Valentina stands under the water, breathing deeply. When Juliana reaches around her to grab the bottle of shampoo, Valentina catches her hand and uses it to wrap Juliana’s arms around her waist. 

Juliana steps closer then, pressing her front to Valentina’s back. Valentina gasps slightly at the contact but leans into her, ducking her head down slightly. Juliana wraps her other arm around Valentina’s waist and presses a kiss against her shoulder. They stand like that for a long, silent moment, the soft plinks of water hitting their bodies the only noise in the room. Juliana keeps her breaths slow and steady, feeling Valentina match her breath for breath. Juliana feels Valentina shift slightly, turning in her arms until they’re face to face. 

She simply stares at Juliana for a moment, her face completely open for Juliana to read. Valentina had lowered her guard completely, and was letting Juliana see everything she felt. Her fear, her anger, her hope, her love. A million words written in the blue of her eyes that Val didn’t know how to say. She didn’t need to voice the words anyway. She could see every answer, every response to her feelings in Juliana’s eyes. Juliana’s fear, anger, hope. Juliana’s love, written so clearly it was like seeing a rose in bloom, capturing all of Valentina’s attention. 

Juliana turned off the water and wrapped them each in a towel before leading Valentina back into the bedroom. She starts to move to the dresser to grab a fresh set of pajamas for each of them but Valentina stops her. 

“I need to feel you.” Valentina says softly. “Is that okay?” 

“Yes,” Juliana offers Valentina a smile, walks them over to the bed. As Valentina climbs into the bed, Juliana asks, “Do you want to keep the lights on?

“Not all of them, just this one,” Valentina gestures to the lamp on the bedside table. 

“Okay,” Juliana smiles softly at her and reaches to turn the main light off. When she turns back to Valentina, she sees her tossing the damp towel to the floor. She feels nervous suddenly, and she can tell Valentina feels the same way from the way she rubs her fingers against the blankets. 

“Hey,” Juliana says as she slides into bed, “do you want me to hold you? I can leave my towel on.” 

“No,” Valentina shakes her head. “I mean, yes, I want you to hold me. I just…” she sighs softly. Juliana nods, and removes her towel before laying back against the pillows. 

“Here,” Juliana opens her arms for Valentina to settle into her embrace. Valentina settles against her slowly and Juliana cups the back of her head. “Red or blue?” 

“What?” 

“Feel where my hand is. Red or blue?” Juliana says again, gently touching Valentina’s hair. 

“Oh,” Valentina sighs, “Blue,” 

“Okay,” Juliana moved her hand to Valentina’s hip, curling her fingers over her hip bone. “Red or blue?” 

“Blue,” Valentina says again, relaxing further into Juliana. She feels Juliana nod her head and then her hand moves again. 

“Red or blue?” Juliana asks, her hand resting on the small of Valentina’s back, over her scars. It’s the place where her hand naturally falls when she holds Valentina this way, which hadn’t been a problem so far as long as Valentina had been wearing a shirt. “It’s okay if the answer is red.” 

Valentina presses closer to Juliana, kissing her neck softly. “Blue.” 

“Blue?” Juliana feels Valentina nod her head, Valentina’s hand settles over her stomach. 

“Blue.” 

~

It takes four and a half weeks for Valentina to feel okay again. She didn’t have nightmares every night, but when she did, they were just as vivid and disorienting as the first one. She woke up covered in sweat and shaking, too scared to look at her hands because she was certain they would be stained red with Juliana’s blood. She tells Barbara about her dreams, about the ways Juliana helps her recover each time, about how she feels guilty for waking up Juliana and needing so much help each time. Barbara let’s her talk through the issue, until she feels like she’s ready to talk to Juliana about the same. 

“Vale, I want you to wake me up when things like this happen. It’s not a burden,” Juliana tells her, fingertips lightly tracing over Valentina’s nose and cheekbones. They’re laying in bed together when Valentina brings up the issue, facing one another with little space between their bodies. “You’re not a burden. I want to help you, I want you to know you can come to me for help, just like I know I can come to you.” Juliana kissed her nose then. “We’re partners. That’s how this works.” 

“I know,” Valentina moved closer to Juliana, tucking her head into the crook of Juliana’s neck. “I still feel guilty about it.” She feels Juliana sigh, and a part of her feels even worse but she can’t help the way she feels. 

“I know,” Juliana presses their lips together then, softly. “I know and it’s okay that you feel that way. I just - I’ll feel guilty too, if I’m not there to help you.” 

“You will?” Valentina’s tone betrays her surprise and she pulls away from Juliana enough to look her in the eyes. She rests her head on the pillow they’d been sharing, watching Juliana roll the words she wants to say around in head before she speaks. 

“I wasn’t there, for three years you had to deal with all of this, all alone.” Juliana says. She feels Valentina’s hand on her waist, thumb rubbing a soothing motion along the strip of skin revealed from where her t-shirt had ridden up slightly. “I know your nightmares aren’t a new thing, and it kills me that you had to face them on your own.” 

“What do you mean?” Valentina asks softly, certain that she had never mentioned the nightmares she had while she was away, not to anyone other than Barbara. 

Juliana took a deep breath and then told Valentina about the conversation she had with Maya, nearly a year ago before Valentina had even seemed like she wanted to get better. Valentina looked shocked at the revelation, both that Maya had known about her dreams and about Maya’s true feelings for her. 

“When I think about all the times you reached for me, and I wasn’t there, I just can’t help but feel guilty. I know it wasn’t something we could control, but I still hate knowing we were so far apart and still reaching for each other, knowing the other wouldn’t be there.” Juliana reached out, brushing Valentina’s hair away from her shoulder and cupping her neck, just to feel her skin, her warmth and remind herself that they had somehow made it past all that. “I want you to feel like you can reach for me. I want you to know that I’ll be here.” 

“I do,” Valentina whispers, wiggling closer to Juliana so their fronts are pressed together. Her hand slips to Juliana’s back, fingers splayed across warm skin in an effort to press closer. “I know you’re there. I just -” Valentina cuts herself off and looks away. Juliana touches her chin gently, asking her to look into her eyes again. “I don’t want our relationship to be just about you helping me. I want us to be us again, without constantly thinking about all the time we didn’t have together.” 

“Okay,” Juliana says softly, because even though she wants to argue that their relationship isn’t just about Valentina, she knows that whatever she says won’t change the way Valentina feels and might make her close up again, which is the last thing Juliana wants. Instead, Juliana says, “what if we think about the good times we had together?” 

“I don’t want to be stuck in the past, Juls.” Valentina protests and Juliana shakes her head lightly. 

“No, that��s not what I mean,” Juliana pulls away slightly and throws the blankets off their bodies. “Come with me?” She requests when she’s on her feet beside the bed, hand extended to Valentina. Valentina pulls herself from the bed and takes the offered hand. Juliana leads them to living room, directing Valentina to sit on the couch while she heads to the bookshelf near the window. 

“Juls?” Valentina questions when Juliana sits beside her, three black photo albums in her hands. Valentina recognizes them instantly, the first being the one she had gifted Juliana their first Christmas together. It was their story. 

“We’ve been so focused on the bad three years,” Juliana says, sliding the albums labeled two and three back and pulling the first one to the forefront. “Maybe we need to remember the good ones, too.” 

She pulls Valentina close and opens the first album, greeted with the smiling faces of their fifteen year old selves, immortalized in the pages. The first few are from the park where they met, sitting at the bench or standing beneath a tree, some selfies they had taken where even then they looked at each other a little too long to be just friends. Next comes the ones from the Carvajal mansion, some taken during their swim lessons or movie nights. Valentina brushes her fingers against the photo Guille had taken of them, the night before they officially got together. 

“I still can’t believe your brother took this creeper picture of us,” Juliana giggles. Valentina cracks a half smile, looking at their forms curled together. The bruises that had adorned Juliana’s face at the time were hidden from view, but when Valentina looks up at Juliana’s face, she can see the scar from the encounter. It’s small, not noticeable unless you knew what to look for. 

“I’m glad he did,” Valentina leans further into Juliana as they continue looking through the photographs. They trade stories and memories as they progress through their walk down memory lane, sometimes commenting on Eva and Guille or Lucia’s expression in the photographs, and pausing for a long moment on a picture of Leon and Val that had been taken the summer before they left. 

The last picture was from their third anniversary, a mere two months before Valentina had disappeared. They had taken it at the Valle House, laying together under a blanket in front of the fire. The photo had been taken by Val, her arm extended out of the frame. Their bodies were pressed close together, bare, Juliana remembered. She had her nose buried against Valentina’s collar bone, eyes closed. Valentina had her lips pressed against Juliana’s forehead, eyes closed and the barest hint of a lovemark half hidden beneath Juliana’s hair. 

“We didn’t even make it to the bedroom that night.” Valentina laughs softly, tracing her fingertip over the photograph. 

“It was our anniversary,” Juliana shrugged, unashamed, “We were together, happy, safe. Having a bed was optional.” She chuckles lightly, rubbing Valentina’s back when she leans into her. Valentina hums slightly, turning her head to kiss Juliana’s neck gently. She feels the gulp Juliana tires to conceal and pulls back. 

“What about now?” Valentina asks, moving the photo album from Juliana’s lap and taking it’s place. “Is having a bed still optional?” 

Juliana nods mutely, pupils blown and eyes dark with desire as her hands land on Val’s bare thighs. She swallows thickly when Valentina’s hands slide up her arms. Juliana forces herself to lean back slightly, trying to keep herself from getting to excited. It’s not the first time she and Val had been in a position like this, even if the Valentina had stopped them long before hands slipped beneath clothing. She doesn’t want Valentina to feel pressured. However, when she leans back, Valentina follows, resting their foreheads together. 

“Val,” her name escapes Juliana’s lips on a breathless whisper. “Are you sure?”” 

“Yes,” Valentina presses closer, fingers teasing at Juliana’s skin. “You were right, we’re too focused on the bad times. I’m too focused on what we lost, I’m forgetting what we can have again.” 

“We don’t need to have sex to have that again.” Juliana tells her, but it takes all of her focus to keep from flexing her hands against Valentina’s legs and pulling her closer. 

“I know,” Valentina brushes their lips together, a ghost of a kiss that still manages to leave them both breathless. “I want too. I want to be with you like that again. I miss you.” 

“If you want to stop, if it’s too much…” Juliana feels Valentina’s nod. 

“I’ll tell you, I promise.” Valentina kisses her again, tangling her fingers in Juliana’s hair and pressing their bodies together. “I love you.” 

“I love you.” Juliana replied and this time when they kissed, she allowed her hands to roam. She moved slowly, waiting for any indication that Val was uncomfortable, as Juliana’s hands slipped beneath her top. She felt Valentina shudder slightly, but instead of pulling away, Valentina pressed closer. Her hands travelled down Juliana’s torso until her fingers found the hem of her shirt. She pulls up, Juliana letting go of her just long enough to lift her arms and get the shirt off. 

Juliana whimpers slightly when Valentina’s hands brush against her breasts, feeling a rush of her that settles in her core. She tugs at Valentina’s shirt, the silent question answered when Valentina lifts her arms without disconnecting their lips. Once the shirt is gone Juliana takes the opportunity to press kisses along Valentina’s collarbone and then moves lower, tracing over the rise of Val’s breast. She feels Valentina’s fingers in her hair and along her back, burning into her skin. 

“Juliana,” Val whispers softly when she pulls back slightly, both of their chests heaving. Juliana looks up into her eyes, reaching with one hand to cup Valentina’s cheek. “Love me, please. Let me love you. Help me let go of the past. Help me make new memories.” 

Juliana nods her head, leaning into kiss Valentina on the lips, letting their tongues dance together slowly. Valentina clings to her, pressing impossibly close. She feels Juliana’s hands travel down her torso, around her waist and settle beneath her bottom. Juliana pushes herself to her feet, Valentina’s legs wrapping around her waist as she walks them back to the bedroom. Juliana gently sets Valentina down on the edge of the bed kneeling before her. Her hands rest over Valentina’s short-covered hips, silent question in her eyes. Valentina rises slightly, just enough for Juliana to slide the remaining of her clothes off her body. Once they’re gone, Valentina scoots backwards, laying against the pillows with her eyes focused on Juliana. 

Juliana stands, her own shorts sliding off her hips and leaving her bare. She watches Valentina’s eyes slide over her skin, taking in every part of her as she does the same to Valentina. She takes the time to appreciate what she sees, comparing the body she remembers to the one before her now. She can’t deny the differences there, the new scars, the harder muscles were Valentina used to be so soft, but she can’t wait to learn her all over again. 

She crawls on to the bed, hovering over Valentina as she presses their lips together, until Valentina grows tired of the space between them and pulls Juliana down on top of her. They moan as their bodies come in contact again, sliding together in an old dance that feels so new. Juliana remembers Valentina’s request, to love her and to let her lover Juliana again and follows it as best she can. She loves Valentina, with her hands and lips and soul, mapping out her skin again, remembering the places that made Valentina moan or sigh, whimper and gasp. She lets Valentina do the same, feeling her body respond to Valentina’s fingers against her, ever moan and whisper of her name sounding like heaven to her ears. 

When they settle together, spent and sweaty but feeling closer than they had in years, Juliana feels the last of the hurt in her heart fade into a scar, one that she’ll carry with her always. One that matches the scar in Valentina’s heart, one that reminds them of what they lost and what they got back. 

“I love you,” Juliana whispers, kissing Valentina’s shoulder softly. She feels Valentina shift in her arms, turning over to connect their lips. 

“I love you, too.” 

Valentina feels like she’s really come home. Even if she has nightmares sometimes and doesn’t always know how to say what she feels anymore, she’s home. She knows who she is again, and she knows who she loves. 

That, Valentina thinks as she feels Juliana settle into her arms, her body relaxing as sleep takes over, is worth all the scars she carries. 

[grandbettinuniverse]

Who will host Grand National 2020

For assortment of the 11 sprinters in Saturday's Unibet Bewildering National Major at Haydock Park, most strikingly Rich Departure, Yala Enki and One For Arthur, it's basically that a preprace for Aintree on April 4. The The Grand National 2020 Live Stream Thousand National will occur on Saturday fourth April at 515pm. a total of 21 races were run during the unmistakable National 2020 Festival. It starts with Amazing Opening Day on Thursday second, Ladies Day on Friday third, before Saturday's Stunning National Day.

Regardless, regardless of the very reality this most treasured Pro Du Mesnil, who is endeavoring to complete a fourtimer, joins an area inside the National the odds are that it'll be a year accommodating for him. "He needs overwhelming ground and except for if there's a storm in Liverpool on the very edge of the start of April, it's endless ," clarified his mentor Richard Hobson. it'll be spellbinding to peer out what weight he gets, in any case his basic point this year is that the Gold Cup, said Sweeper.

In the event that he joins an outrageous race it's just three weeks to the National so I likely won't encourage anybody to put any cash on him, in such a case, that he runs his race I don't have the foggiest idea whether he'd have enough recuperation time. He goes well new. Possibly next season it'll be to a progressively essential degree an objective when he'll be 11 and through this way the Gold Cup looks barely abnormal at any rate inside the event that something occurred and he was unable to run inside the Gold Cup, around then we'd notwithstanding have an elective decision . The thing is I feel the steed is bold enough for the National yet I don't have the foggiest idea whether the proprietors are! We get so disturbed, even on Saturday. We love him such an exceptional course of action .

With your head, he looks perfect for the National. Be that since it'd , the trouble is that the proprietors, not the steed we've so joined to him. On the off chance that anything happened we'd never pardon ourselves. inside the event that he's fit and well next season it's inexorably conceivable. This season it's logically arranged and delaying. inside the event that he runs his race inside the Gold Cup I wont to be not able to work out him running, yet we're not controlling it altogether out at this stage. He wins his races by making everything separated from would you say you're ready to make anyplace four and 1/4 miles? that is the milliondollar solicitation, I anticipate.

Mulling over Saturday's triumph, Floor brush communicated it had been the correct outcome. He incorporates an authorized after now he's contributed vitality as an ignored steed, yet I feel he's been so obvious for during thusly long he's earned his place now. He's still never been out of the fundamental four over divider. Possibly winning the Gold Cup left its blemish on him last season that race appears to have done normally to Might Eat, at any rate Dicky Johnson said at Aintree he felt a fascinating steed to at any stage last season.

He's a brilliant steed, we get that. just in the event that he races to the structure he's shown this season he ought to be sway there again inside the Gold Cup. Clearly some more youthful ones are coming through they conventionally are everything viewed as he'll make the others recognize they've had a race, that is basically sure. He needn't sit around idly with it liberal inside the Gold Cup. He really handles extraordinary ground okay it's basically the others don't impact huge in like way as he did. He in like way had a substitution racer on Saturday, which I expected vivacious Jonjo ONeill surpassed desires on him.

On Wednesday just before the 2020 Thousand National Roadster Show, the Pomona Fairplex was during a general sense starting to offer hints of life. The roadsters in conflict for America's Most Staggering Roadster AMBR had been by system for then in Building 4, taking their first twisted at empowering the element judges. Something during a general sense a comparing as become occurring in Building 6, during which starting settling on a decision for the Al Slonaker Commitment Grant became happening . Most through a generally comprehensive system for the help of the celebration structures were to the present point unfilled, decay, and quiet.

On Thursday, the spot slid into disperse. That became movein day, when diverse road bars, customs, race vehicles, incomprehensible trucks, lowriders, and road machines from the earth had been coming in, with owners and creation packs rising ground covering, fixing place stanchions and mirrors, and understanding where to lace lighting for their highlights. At the strategy of thinking while the sections blew open on Friday and through this way the amazing framework poured in, the Unlimited National Roadster Show become found for 3 days of morningtonight vehicle massive overtrouble. We were there for dependably.

Tiger Roll had stepped through the Evaluation Two exam at Navan a year sooner, at any rate it had been stablemate Breaking Sharp 161 in like way attested by Michael O'Leary's Gigginstown House Stud who took the separations now . Separating Sharp visited the front two flights from home, under Tiger Move's Aintree collaborator Davy Russell, after Jessica Harrington's Appeal of daylight runnerup during a year earlier's Remarkable National and Killultagh Vic had made the brain a lot of the running inside the 2m5f test.

Tiger Move, under Keith O'Donoghue his partner at Cheltenham for the last two seasons, voyaged well during . Be that since it'd , having made his move at the comparative time of the race as Separating Keen he couldn't really find a workable pace. Separating Keen regardless of what could be relied upon hand controlled home to acknowledge by four lengths from Willie Mullins' 2018 Stayers' Obstruction Penhill, close by his stablemate Bachasson five lengths further free. For More Details About Grand National Go To This URL.

[culturati-club]

“Culture” Shock

All is well then a crazy panic comes over me. Who is this person  I am looking at, speaking to me from, across the table? Where the hell am I? Who am I? HOLY S**T, WHO AM I? Panic. Panic. Am I alive?

In all this emotion, I have been trying to find articles that prove this feeling is, in fact, normal. I wanted to find articles about others who had this same experience, yet all I could find were steps of culture shock (that did not express this horrible feeling I was living). I wrote this in hopes that my experience could be that something for someone else.

Panic and anxiety are one of the scariest mind f**ks to ever have. Especially when you are in a place that is unfamiliar to you. Everything is new. Absolutely  everything. I always imagined culture shock to be in the sense that all things material are new to you. I have been many places and have never felt like this before. This sensation is new to me, and with that, it is quite terrifying. I mean, I have had anxiety all my life, but never this intense; never this surreal. It has had me questioning everything. Is this life? Is life real? I am such a deep person, who strives to be strong, so feeling this made me feel absolutely crazy. I am critical on myself and strive to know myself in every way, but recently, I feel disconnected from myself and everything I’ve ever done. This loss of identity has had me feeling disoriented. It has me in a place feeling dark and lonely. No one understands what I am speaking of, which has me feeling even crazier.

Visiting a new city is one thing, but actually moving and adjusting your entire life and future to one, is another. It is exciting and scary. The emotions of stress are overwhelming. You are not only adapting to a new job, in a new city but to a whole new culture, entirely by yourself. People always say the same things to me: “You are so brave! I don’t know how you just pick up and move to another country!”, yup. It all seemed fun and easy, so I kept going. Until now my mind has popped like an overinflated balloon.

December 10th, 2015

I feel as if I am in a dream; a nightmare. I am sitting here trying to make sense of it all. I realize it’s not just USA I miss. I miss China. I talk about China. I compare it to China. Tokyo, Japan is not China. When we are scared, we crave the comforts of home, therefore, I want to go home. I miss my Mom. I miss my dad. I miss their vicious dog that tries to maul me to death. I miss it all simply because I am in a place I do not feel familiar with. That familiarity is what gives us that sense of identity. When everything is new and you are left alone to think and process, not just this new experience, but everything in life that has made you, you.

“Many travel for the idea of it; seeing exotic places and lives (as we should). We should all travel to learn about culture and the exotic people that consume this wondrous world. Fair warning, though… that is what I live for, and that is how I became so lost. I have seen wonders and have held personal experiences that have brought me to meet incredible people; people that will haunt my memories for the rest of my life. Though I haven’t been to too many countries, I have spent time living and subjecting myself to different cultures. Witnessing and experiencing a different way of life first hand, by yourself, is life changing. I have lost myself doing this and have learned that traveling does not always help you find yourself. Traveling provokes more questions by opening our mind to the mighty world that encompasses our individualized personification of life.”

- A passage I wrote September 2014… on the floor of a bookstore… in my hometown.

Upon returning from China, I spent some time at home. I had some major reverse culture shock that I don’t think I ever got over. No one could really understand it either. Anyway, there at home, I processed without really processing. All I did was mourn in the loss of the experience I had just had. Longing for it. I made a lot of art. I painted, I wrote, I photographed. That was amazing. Since graduating from college, I hadn’t been able to just create for myself. I picked up an internship for a startup magazine, where I was asked to become the Art Editor. I attended concerts and interviewed artists. On the side, I had become ordained to wed my brother and is amazing new wife in marriage. So much happening stepping out of an experience of the happened, I never processed anything.

Along with that in 2015, I had spent this past summer in Spain. I often forget that that all even happened. When I was in Spain, I lived with two different families in three separate months. By the time I was with the second family, I was planning a trip to Germany, and received an email regarding this job opportunity in Japan. I interviewed and accepted the job. It was fate; a blessing. I was immediately in four mindsets: Spain/Germany/Home/Japan. I was still experiencing Spain and was wanting to do specific things, was planning to go to Germany to visit friends, then getting home only to prepare for my departure to Japan. This was all in a span of a few months. I even ended up going through quite the adventure of going through two countries to get home from Spain. Germany flights were impossible to get out of (non-rev), my Visa was about to expire, and I needed to get home to prepare for Japan. It was a fun kind of stressful. I ended up taking a bus from Munich to Zurich, Switzerland, where I spent the night at someone’s home I met off CouchSurfing, only to try to catch a flight out the next day. Following some adventure, I made the flight where I met an awesome dude I ended up sitting next to. After nine hours of talking and drinking bourbon with this new friend, I was back in Atlanta. I was home and gave myself a week [my birthday week] before I started preparing for Japan. It was a rush. A stressful period. Yet, week after week, my departure was delayed. I was on my toes not knowing when to expect to go. I get an email, “Ok! You are going on Monday (in three days)!”, AHhhh, “OH WAIT, Your Visa wasn’t approved yet, so maybe next week!”…. This happened week after week for two months. It was getting to the point where no one believed I was actually going, and I myself began to believe I was not actually going.

Oh, but, finally, it actually happened! I received my passport with my work Visa, I had my ticket. It was happening. From that moment, everything following happened so fast. I left, I arrived, and it all seemed great. I met so many people, I felt I had known all my life, then all the sudden, a month goes by. A month! It feels as if it was a month’s worth of events put into just a few days.

December 18th, 2015

Our minds are like a tornado. Each is a different kind of storm. Some big, some small. Some carry on for a while; some diminish before they can even begin. My brain is a tornado that has been sucking up five years worth of experiences, memories, people, countries, hardships, love, and more. The further tornadoes roam, the more they suck up, and the more they grow in size. Imagine how big the tornado in my mind has grown over time. Now, I am in a place that brought me here as pure destiny. It’s surreal. I’m in a position where the storm has grown tiresome. I have no worry because I am set to be here alone for two and a half years.

The tornado is at a halt. The air is still, but everything the tornado had swept up, everything my mind, I had retained in five years, is crashing down at once. My brain is overwhelmed. I am finally being forced to process everything I have lived through, and I can’t believe it was me who lived out all those experiences.

Perhaps that is why this random lightning bolt of panic and disorientation has hit me. I suddenly feel as if I have no sense of identity. That I just awoke from a long sleep, and this place is so unfamiliar… or, maybe, that I am in a dream and  a daze. I realize I am in fact alive, and it freaks me out because nothing seems familiar.  My deep and philosophical mind along with my critical sense of being strong has not helped me in any way. I only look into it much deeper and convince myself I am crazy because I so badly want to feel my normal self again.

Isn’t it funny how this sense if being “normal” always comes back to haunt us? I, for one, have always been a disbeliever of “normal”; I have never thought it to exist. I always feel it to be something society created in order for us all to be the same. No human is the same. Humans are each different. I am different. You are different. To remember that can be so easily forgotten.

December 20th, 2015

It’s funny because I often say, “Great humans think DIFFERENT”, instead of “great humans think alike”. I never understood what was so great about thinking alike… If we all thought alike, then we wouldn’t have a Steve Jobs for Apple. We would not have Skype or Delta AirLines…. So why do we expect ourselves to be “normal”? If anything this worlds idea of normal is what makes us crazy.

As I began to write this, I received a phone call from a fellow missionary and Pastor here. He was checking in to see how I was doing. He said in language class this week he learned the Japanese word for, “different”. He said it is also the same meaning for “wrong”. He felt it fitting because to be different is wrong here. He reminded me that I am unique, and that is why I am here. To be that unique person, and to bring the special talents I have to offer.

I try to express this feeling to others, and they look at my like I am nutso. That helped with this situation a whole lot [jokes]. I quickly remembered, though. I remembered that no one truly understands what another goes through. We can hear their story, but we can never really know their story. So that fact that people look at me like a nutso doesn’t much bother me. I am twenty-five and feel as if I have lived the life of a ninety-year-old. My mind is a wonderland.

I can’t really figure out why I have been feeling panic and anxiety. Everyone back home who knows me keeps saying, “Jennifer, you just moved to the other side of the world. Again. Your mind probably just needs to process everything you’ve done in the past five years!”.

Everything I have been through is what has gotten me here. I have to remember that, yes. I am remembering that as I write this, but sometimes we go through so much and just keep going and going; never stopping to process. Our brains can’t handle it. Our brains will stop and make you question everything, process everything. I am not a machine, I am not supergirl. I am just another unique human being. I am not crazy; I am simply exhausted. I am not perfect. I must remember that. We all must remember that for ourselves. We are not perfect.

Most see me as a lucky individual. I agree. I am very fortunate. Not just because of the experiences I have lived out, but also for the drive and passion I hold close to me. This post isn’t meant for self-pity nor is it meant for the pity of others.  I hope this can help remind people that at every moment, of every day, we are all just humans.

For so long, I just kept going. I have stressed about trying to do everything in the angst of time; about living out all my goals in order to fulfill my dreams. We make assumptions about people and their perfect lives, when in reality, they are going through something just as dark. Anxiety is a horrible thing. Especially if you are alone in a foreign country where everyone seems to keep to themselves. You begin to question your identity in an overstimulating place like Tokyo.

This experience has opened my mind even more so (and will continue to). It has opened a door to a new perspective by testing everything I have ever believed in. I’ve always believed: obstacles are often blessings in disguise.

We could sit around and wonder who we are and how we got here, or we can naturally allow the universe to guide us through faith and intuition. I am where I am because I had that faith, and sometimes life just seems way too golden to be true. We may never fully understand what drives anxiety, therefore, treasure even those darkest moments because they, themselves, turn out to be some of  life’s greatest lessons. Everything that happens to us is for our complete benefit. If we are not constantly learning– growing– then what are we even doing?

Disclaimer: I do not like the term “culture shock” for this situation, though it was the most understandably amongst society. Japan is a very lonely and secluded nation. Just after two months of living here, I began to have this disconnection from myself. People live like this their entire lives. Japan has a dark side.  In peace.

Imagery and wording by Jennifer Jarvie ( @clubjarvie )

[http-lostforever]

Silenced- 1

Pairing: OT7 x reader

Summary:Y/n was an average girl, passing the police academy with a passing score and no overly special talents, she was matched with a sarcastic, moody, cigarette-smoking detective as a partner. Not only was he already a handful, but the forensic scientist that was assigned to Team 4--as they called themselves--had made it clear that he was interested in Y/n. With those two constantly bickering and the tragic event of a new unsolved case thrown in their laps, how will they feel when their worlds are turned upside down with the entry of a new officer and a case that was way over their heads?

Warnings:Blood, Gore, smoking, cursing, cliche?

Ducking underneath the iridescent yellow tape lining the edges of the scene to keep any onlookers out, I followed his footsteps as they interrupted the blood mixed puddle upon the hard cement. Red and blue siren lights of our car flickered in the corner of my eye, giving too strong of a stimulus for my brain to focus on the situation at hand. Resting my eyes upon the changing hues of light, my mind wanted to drift into a rain lulled stupor, each droplet hitting the shell of my umbrella was hypnotizing enough as it is.

A smoke laced cough caught my attention, whipping my head back around to look at my partner in worry and confusion. He had caught on to my hesitant steps, more like exhausted as it was 5:37 am, but with furrowed brows and a white burning cigarette placed between his lips he jerked his head to the side, motioning for me to follow and get this over with. With a hefty sigh and a quick glance at the tumbling, grey sky through my clear umbrella, my eyes ghosted over each raindrop that hit upon the plastic.

Taking a quick step to match his we began walking past the mass of response unit cars, as we detectives are the last to be called on scene. A stout man ran up, shoving himself between my partner and I, and earned a grim look of annoyance from the taller man.

"So what have we got?" He grunted, smoke billowing from his lips in a small stream as he blew out the deadly toxin. From the corner of my eye I could see him rest his arm upon the shorter mans head, a clear display of disrespect but he could care less. Looking down at the officer we arrived just outside the actual crime scene, the faint smell of blood now becoming stronger, more potent within the rain filled air as a wave of bile begged to rise from my stomach and burn the inner of my throat.

" Melody Smith, 22 years old, 26 lacerations to the torso and neck area. She was DOA and there hasn't been any friends or family to show up as of yet."

" She was stabbed 26 times? Doesn't that seem like a little bit overkill, and why hasn't anyone covered her with a tarp yet? Don't these guys know that at this point all the evidence is just being washed down the drain?".

A young girl laid on her back, limbs splayed out unevenly as her head twisted to the side, an angle that confirmed the female was certainly dead, her wide eyes staring directly into the dark clouds above. All signs of life had left them, at this point she was just a corpse waiting to be put into the ground, a being that once was as alive as me but now left as an abandon shell waiting to rot in the open.

Her shoulder length brown hair that had once been in--what I would guess to be a messy bun--was now matted with her own blood, parts torn out as a clear indicator of fighting for survival. She wore a heavy sweatshirt, embroidered on the front was what I could only guess was a university's motto. A gruesome display of how unsafe the public truly was to the wicked evil that lurked the earth. Well that would explain the copious amounts of blood that were pooled all around her body when we arrived, but thanks to the rain my shoes would be safe another day.

"So who found her?"

Taehyung nods his head in the direction of a blonde haired women sobbing hysterically while hoards of people around attempt to comfort her.

"Ohhh..so that's where the dying cat sound was coming from earlier." A scoff of laughter escaped my lips from my own joke.

Tae shakes his head in disappointment before pivoting on his heels and heading over in the direction of the damsel in distress. Although not nearly fast enough for me not to see the corners of his mouth curve ever so slightly upwards. If there's one things that Tae and I share, it's the ability to make light of whatever dark and morbid situation that we've gotten ourselves into that day.

After all the losses there was no more sentimentality for the dead. It was easier if you didn't think of them as people at all. Indeed, our senses of humor became warped and darkly macabre. We laughed at their silly expressions and gave them rude names.There is only so much horror you can take in and understand, after that your mind will snap. So we joke.

I decide to do a once over of the body to see if there's anything that the crime scene analysis guys might have missed just to prolong the inevitable drama that I'm about to step into, but ultimately I end up heading in the direction of Tae and our devastated jogger. Upon getting closer, I can see that she's much younger than I initially expected. She had long blonde hair swept up into a tight ponytail, one that made my own head ache after looking at it for too long. She wore a matching set of leggings and sports bra that were a soft shade of pink with small gold flowers embroidered all over it.

I had to admit that it really complemented the dark hue of her bronzed summer skin and made me question the last time that I had hit the treadmill after looking at her toned abs. She had deep blue eyes and plump pink lips that reminded me of those little sea shells that you find when you walk the beach early in the morning but ended up getting washed away if you didn't grab them fast enough. I couldn't help but wonder how I looked compared to her since my morning routine that day consisted of just barely remembering to jump in the shower and throw my uniform on.

I also noticed that her already long eyelashes were coated in a layer of mascara and her lips were also supporting a clear gloss as well. I never really could understand the point of wearing makeup to work out since you were just going to sweat it off anyways, but to each their own.

Little to no surprise she was no longer crying, all thanks to Taes "charm". The girl that once was having screaming fits of nearly tripping over a dead body now acted as if she had no recollection of what had happened and was solely focused on trying to stealthily push her cleavage a little bit higher into Tae's line of sight.

I wouldn't blame her though. Tae was a pretty good looking guy according to all the other girls on the surrounding teams at the office. He stood around 5'10 and had pretty large shoulders for a guy who spent most of his time sitting at a desk chair or driving a patrol car to observe crime scenes. Muscular in the kind of way that you can tell when they work out but not anything that says that I'm desperate and my muscles are the only things that gives me confidence. He had dark hair that looked like it was almost in need of a haircut since it slightly hung in his eyes but you could also say that it gave him a casual boyish charm that made him comfortable to talk to.

His eyes were dark brown and almost completely unreadable if not for the millions of facial expressions that he's given me the pleasure of seeing. That was his dead give away. Most people at work think that he's a moody officer but if only they saw the endless faces that were shot my way throughout the day. I look Tae's direction to see if he's being lured into her act and hoping to find something to tease him about later, but unfortunately if he does find her attractive then he's good at hiding it.

"So can you give us a rundown of what happened today?" Tae asks while leaning in and placing a hand on the girls shoulder. As soon as this happens she breaks down into tears again and takes his comforting as a chance to further his touch.

"Well, I got up around 4:15 am to do my daily morning jog. I came up around the park and did two laps around the northern buildings of the university before heading this way. Normally I would head back towards the park but I needed to pick up a jacket that I left at a friends place for an event that was going on later at the college. Halfway to her house I noticed a girl who was laying down on the ground. I thought that she might have also been on a run and slipped and hit her head or something, but that's when i saw all the blood......" her voice trailed off after she realized the severity of what she had stumbled upon that morning.

I looked over at Tae who was already looking in my direction. We both knew that there wouldn't be anything else to get from her in this state at the moment. So I headed in the direction of our car while Tae gave his new admirer a form and a time to stop by at the station later when she had calmed down. I looked over my shoulder to see him giving her a polite smile and a little wave goodbye before heading my direction. I got into the passenger side, the cold leather seat consuming the warmth of my body thus causing a shiver to crawl up my spine. Tae laughed lightly at my action then slipped himself into the driver's seat. For some reason we had this unspoken agreement that he would always drive and I would be the one to man any incoming calls and most importantly, the radio.

I immediately popped in the Journey CD that he had tucked away into the glove department and before you knew it he was belting out the lyrics to every song that came on. His voice was husky as it was still to early for either of us to be completely awake and functional. But nonetheless I didn't sing along like he did. Instead I just sat back and listened to his voice, the deep tones of each word struck my mind with ease as he could quickly raise the tension within seconds. His voice used to be a secret between us until he got to drunk at the rookie Christmas party and did a duet with the one of the other rookies to some song. His voice paired with his looks gets him teased a lot around the office with the common name of pretty boy and such, so he doesn't sing now unless its in the car. But it makes me happy to know that he's comfortable sharing it with me.

Looking out the window of the car it was easy to get lost in the moment as the grey clouds blanketed the sky, accompanied by the soft pattering of rain drops hitting windshield as we made our way through the city. Despite the heavy tension that hung above us, rain commonly calmed me down. Easing my feelings into a more simplified state--helping me enjoy the music with Tae and hum along quietly-- and helping me wake up more than before. My eyes ghosted across the early birds that walked along the streets, warm coffees resting in their freezing glove lined hands.

We slowly came to a stop--red light being the cause--while the sharp sound of someone clearing their throat drifted my attention from the window to Tae looking at me briefly before pressing on the gas once more.

"It's pretty cold out..."

"Mhm" I hummed glancing back at the window, then turned back around once more as he motioned for my attention.

"It's also pretty early..."

"Tae if you're trying to start small chat then let me just be the one to tell you, you're awful at it."

"Listen smart ass, I was trying to ask nicely but now you don't get a choice."

Chapter 2