#last time they expressed having thoughts about me i was defined to be a psychopath

[hilema]

It's so funny that i'm this person's diary but they still don't consider me close to them at all ajfkshfkdh

[sereisstuff]

𝙵𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐// Kuina Hikari

Warnings - Angst? Reader is an introvert, contrast to Kuina. Cheesy?

Word count - 2.5K

Disclaimers - For those of you who do not support the LGBTQ+, please move along. I don’t want any negative feedback that includes slander of the community as this will be a female x female story. 

Authors note - I got a bit carried away towards the end, I wanted to dip my toes into writing for Kuina and let me tell you, I will be coming back with more. I know I write my stories based off confessions but that’s usually how I get the feel of writing.

Italics + bold means its a flashback and Italics on it’s own means someone is currently speaking. 

Summary - Love is an evil thing but you know the saying, love prevails. So will it unleash itself in the borderlands, or will it be kept behind a cage until all hell breaks lose?

“Do you just casually follow people around or is that your quirk?” You asked venomously, glaring at the lengthy girl before you, watching her eyes deepen at the accusation you spat. Marking her existence with a smile, orbs glistened in delight as she played with the nicotine between her lips.

She raised her brows in laughter, reaching for one of the phones before her, carefully analysing your expressions as she purposely reached for the device tediously, wanting to witness the instant regret you felt beholding her intentions.

“My name's Kuina if you were wondering and no I’m not following you, my visas running out as it does” she laughed plausible showcasing her declining visa with a grin. she towered over your stature with a soft glare in her rounded eyes. 

You paused in your spot momentarily, gripping the sides of the black piece of technology in your palms. Of course she wasn’t following you, how stupid can you be, you ridiculed yourself mentally. 

It was laughable how paranoid you grew during your cursed time in the games, such and so having such an intimidating figure stalk not too far from you made you on edge, deliberately assuming the worst when clearly you mistook your fear of the games over fear of communication. 

“Oh, right. I’m sorry. My name is y/n” you replied, holding out your hand in an attempt to cover up your embarrassment. You looked down before your sweaty palm, cursing your unruly hair, strands stretched to the lengths of your arms with your head bowed.

You mumbled incoherent cuss words to yourself, fidgeting with your fingers.

It was nerve wracking to be quite frank

“Kuina Hikari, nice to meet you” she grinned warmly, grasping your hand in her own, feeling the velvety touch of her skin clash with your nervous shell. You would often laugh in situations like this but it wasn’t often you were met with someone who caught your attention as much as her.

You both stood like that for a moment before she clicked her tongue, in all honesty. Kuina had an admiration for you, you seemed reserved and introverted. It was applaudable, Chishiya surely would have made use of you but Kuina was far different from him, she was coated in harsh skin but genuinely, she was someone who admired closely to those she wished.

The sudden noise broke you from your trance, releasing a cough into the tensed air. You quickly pulled your hand back from her embrace, missing the texture against your own but you worried less, today might as well be the last, you couldn’t attach yourself to someone who could be gone within the next few minutes.

Kuina stuck close to you from then onwards, her arm lightly bumping yours bringing your attention away from the entrance of the game as she casually ignored her subtle advances. In a way it helped ease the tension rising within your own mind, you chewed your lips nervously, any harder you could draw blood but you didn’t care, you had only attended three games before this one and it didn’t help that you were distracted by her presence.

“Nervous?” she asked, her posture spoke for itself. Calm, calculated, cool. The three big c’s and she had them all, much like her counterpart she was game defying.

Kuina gazed your way with curiosity, she couldn’t help but wonder more, wanting to callously defy the self made laws of the beach and surpass the barriers of selfish independence. she wanted to know you, your origins, your life, everything.

“A little bit. Are you not?” you replied, raising your eyebrows in question. You placed your hands behind your back, hiding the fear causing them to shake irrationally. You didn’t want her to think of you as weak, maybe that’ll give you more time to be by her side, if you didn’t suddenly meet your demise so quickly.

Kuina shrugged, popping the nicotine from her mouth “Maybe?, I wouldn’t know by now.” her eyes dazed into existence for a moment then came right back to your own with a glint of hope, or was that just the sickening feeling in your stomach forcing you to assume otherwise. 

she stared at you, hands clenching in determination as she spoke“ Stick with me and you’ll be fine” her words soared confidently and you took note of her peak in confidence, was it a façade? You thought. It couldn’t be, many here either portrayed one of two emotions. Fear or determination yet she showed none, her return was defined in bold and you couldn’t convince her otherwise.

“Are you sure?’ You whispered, your voice pitching higher not wanting to discomfort her. Kuina bumped your shoulder with her own, collectively nodding her head

“I’m sure”

“I see you’ve caught interest towards her?” Chishiya smirked through his words, standing just behind Kuina’s body as she gazed across the pool towards your anxious figure, she analysed what it was about you that caught her attention but couldn’t grasp it, it wasn’t unlike her to treasure likings towards people every so often but this was a contrast to her others, she fluttered at the sight of you and she wasn’t near complaining. 

Kuina glanced back at Chishiya, processing his words. Defusing his every meaning was her talent but this one backfired, did she really like you? It was hard to understand, she’d only known you for a few weeks, attending every game with you, so much that even Chishiya caught on to her advances and watched in amusement. 

“Yeah. I just don’t think now's the right time to tell her” she released, Chishiya scoffed looking ahead of himself, taking in every aspect of you. He could pinpoint the puzzle you so perfectly fit between Kuina and yourself but would prefer to leave the unmasking to his friend, after all. He enjoyed that the most.

“Poor y/n, so unaware of her surroundings. I say tell her, if not now then when?” Chishiya pressured more, he snickered smugly to himself watching the contemplation arise in her features. Kuina licked her lips as she watched Niragi begin to approach you with a look of interest, at first she processed the idea of standing up against someone as powerful and reckless as the psychopath himself and denying it, preferring other options but before she knew it, she was running to your side, taking a quick and fast seat where you were planted.

Her presence surprised you, mustering a tone of surprise, yet when you wished to curiously question her current motives, the words clung to your throat. Kuina placed her knee by yours and wrapped and arm around your neck securely, she shot you a small smile before glaring at the approaching figure. Niragi tipped his head in interest, he smelt the dramatics developing and what more was his presence useful for if not the dramatics of the borderlands.

“What’s wrong?” you piqued straight, Kuina sent you a shrug. Her back hunching comfortably whilst she rested her hands against her long legs, she shrugged “Nothing, I just thought you looked bored, should we go for a walk?” She questioned but sounded familiar to an urge, you examined her brown eyes. Crossing between you and the man slowly approaching you both.

For some odd reason he shot you a smirk before another man half his size stepped before him, his arms raised tiredly before he glanced back meeting your eyes then lazily nodding towards Kuina, she breathed a heavy sigh of doubt before humming your name “Y/n?”

You felt her hand eagerly grasp your own, the sudden touch sent electricity up your spine. The tender slither of warmth travelled in your cheeks and you suddenly couldn’t understand the concept of breathing, you always knew deep down, your liking for Kuina didn’t just rest at friends, it expanded beyond the universe and now it was slowly revealing itself to her.

“Y-yes” you stuttered, searching the reserves of the pool before you were quickly pulled up from your seat. You huffed in surprise, not expecting such strength to emit from her, you could almost feel the tension begin to unravel between her and the man standing metres away, although he was blocked by Chishiya, Kuina couldn’t help but want you far from him.

By now you and kuina had been suspiciously close, every night she was by your side and every game you clung to her like a second skin. It wasn’t out of the ordinary, you spent every breathing moment with each other and you would be lying if you said it wasn’t fuelling the fire you had.

“Where are you taking me?” you begged, her grip was fine against your limp wrist. If anything, Kuina had your trust and you knew deep down, something was on her mind.

“Away, just for a bit” came her short response.

She led you down multiple hallways and a flight of stairs before you landed in front of a door, she pushed it open with ease and made sure your body was enamoured by the breeze before tightly shutting it. 

With your hands on your hips and doubt pooling in your eyes, you asked “I’m gonna ask one more time before I lose my shit, what’s wrong?” you gaped at her being, crushing the sides of your hips with your heavy palms.

You could clearly see the worry in her eyes before she tilted her head up, hands criss crossed covering her chest and in silence you stood.

You wanted to be patient, lenient, all things she showed you, so on so forth still the silence was undeniably painful “Kuina?” you softly whispered.

Kuina pulled herself from a heavy daze of inner conflict, searching your eyes for that ounce of hope as she settled herself against the door “I brought you here because I’d rather you be by me than by that psychopath, I was worried that something bad would happened if he actually got to you” she muttered, it was odd to see her suddenly avoiding your eyes, usually that was your distinct feature, it shone vulnerability and you wanted nothing more then for her to be surrounded by your comfort.

You took a step close to her, grasping her hand confidently in your own “Is that all? You could have just told me, I would have left the second you mentioned it, if it makes you feel any better. You're the only person I’m comfortable with here, maybe Chishiya a bit but I feel like he’s secretly plotting my death” you laughed, finally releasing a breath upon hearing her light snicker.

But it was short lived, she looked at your hands. Finally taking your fingers and playing with them mustering up the courage to speak “I have something else to tell you” her tone deepened as his grew more serious, her hand raced in her chest, mirroring your own. 

You couldn’t ignore the soft touches she drew on the upside of your palm, feeling tingles run through your arm only growing more distracted but with concentration, you engulfed yourself.

“When we first met, I thought that moment we had was short lived. A moment of pure morality, where we could interact like people again and I would never see you after that” her voice wavered as she caressed your palms, bringing her focus and comfort to see you enjoying it. 

“But when I saw you sitting by the pool alone, I couldn’t help but be excited. I felt stupid, like an idiot actually to think that anything good could ever come out of this horrid place, so I questioned myself” you stared deeply into her eyes, wanting her to meet you half way and confess what you wanted to hear, unless at the end was dejection and a pool of tears.

 Her eyes glazed suddenly and you rushed to amend her sorrow with your hands planted on her surprisingly tense cheeks, you felt them softened under your touch and her breathing turned from ragged to calm, matching your painless pants.

“It’s okay” you reassured her with your head tilted and a delicate smile plastered on your face.

“I like you and not just like friends y/n, like every fibre of my being needs to be surrounded by you just to feel normal again. And I hate myself everyday because of it” she gripped your hands bringing them away from her face, holding back the tears. 

Her vulnerability wasn’t something she enjoyed nor often portrayed, her character she upheld was crumbling and all for the sake of you.

“I-” you were breathless, that’s exactly what you wanted to hear from her. Nothing more, nothing less. 

You couldn’t form the proper words to acknowledge her emotions so you sat in silence, looking at the floor. 

That was until you heard the creek of the door open, shooting your attention upward, catching sight of her blue shorts slowly disappearing around the corner.

And without a second thought, you ran after her. Screaming her name until your throat cracked, you cursed her long legs hating that you could only run so far before you felt that pain jotting in your chest and your lungs filling to a brim.

“Kuina wait, please” You shouted, not noticing her figure halting against the carpeted floor, ramming straight into her accidently, Kuina didn’t waver, holding back a laugh. “Would you at least look at me before you leave, you didn’t even give me a chance to say that I feel the same way about you” you confessed, Kuina pivoted in her spot. Eyes a harsh red matching the colour of her puffed cheeks, she was shocked.

 Frowning towards your answer as if she didn’t believe you.

“What?” she choked.

“At one point I just accepted that we would never be something, like two people colliding in a world that didn’t want them. I was honestly on the brink of death when I met you and I wasn’t going to do anything about it, still, you pulled me out and showed me that no matter how many times I drowned you would pull me out, your a colossal idiot if you think I would never fall for you, I was head over heels the moment we met and it only grew, so I’m hoping that you’ll accept me” Kuina dawned shock over her timid features, covering the warming feeling in her stomach as the butterflies flew. 

“Accept you?” she scoffed, arms crossed defensively “I just confessed my love for you and you're asking me if I’ll accept you?” her voice was growing heavier by the second as she finally took a moment to seep into your questionable eyes, she grabbed your head. 

Tucking a strand behind your ear succumbing to the moment,  and with the tilt of her head she captured your lips in her own.

It was eccentric. The butterflies flew and your mind was in a haze. Was this really happening? you weren’t dreaming? was the woman that reached her hands into a pit of fire to get you, really kissing you. It was all too much, you relaxed at the sudden touch of her hand against your cheek, finalising the moment with the movement of your lips.

Her touch devoted itself to you, feeling the seep of love run from her lips and passionately sharing her confession.

You smiled into the kiss finally backing up in heavy pants, Kuina mimicked your breathing with her forehead leaned against your own, her orbs searching yours with delight. No more fear, no more pressure. The eggshells she walked on no longer existed and she cherished every passing second.

“You know, I kinda just hoped you’d fall in love with me and confess but this way works too.” 

[thefriskypanda]

Hi! How are you doing? I hope you're doing well! This is my first request so tell me if I'm not following the rules. I'd like to ask for a one-shot reiju x fem reader where the reader is a straw hat. Thank you very much😊

Your request was ok! It was a real challenge to write this since the Whole Cake arc was really, really complicated and every time Reiju appears it’s an important scene in the story, but I love her <3. Hope you like it!

Warnings: spoilers for the mentioned arc, mentions of Reiju’s leg injury | this is a sfw one shot, but miiiiiight make a 2nd part when I get some inspiration on how to include the reader in another interaction with our beloved princess.

❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋

The first encounter with the Germa 66 was completely unexpected. No one was mentally prepared to meet Sanji’s family when they made their appearance. Not when your captain was just about to die from poisoning. It was even more shocking when the pink-haired woman jumped aboard the Thousand Sunny, landing just a mere feet away from you, besides Luffy’s body. Her blue eyes scanned his body, quickly identifying the venom in his system. Your own gaze focused on her form, wary of what she could do, but at the same time mesmerized by her astonishing beauty and elegance. 

An audible gasp left your mouth when she lowered her head and began sucking the substance from your captain’s own mouth. It was a rollercoaster of emotions: admiration, for discovering someone capable of kissing him, of all people. Disgust, for seeing someone kissing him. Annoyance, at Chopper and Brook obnoxious screaming. Worry, for not knowing what the poison could do to her body. Confusion, when the wings in her attire began to react and the rash appeared in her cheeks. Her cheeks… You couldn’t help but wonder if her skin was as soft as it looked, making heat rush through your own.

Once she broke the contact, your eyes darted to her parted lips as steam seemed to escape from her glossy mouth. This didn’t go unnoticed by her, so as she stood up to allow Chopper to examine Luffy, she was looking directly into you, winking once she presented herself as “Poison Pink”. The world seemed to have stopped for a brief second. You simply stood there while your crewmates cried over Luffy’s miraculous recovery. “Did she just wink at... me?” A strange sensation settled down in the pit of your stomach, wondering why she noticed the woman with the most ghost-like aura of the entire crew. You didn’t even have a bounty to begin with.

Almost fainting at your own thoughts, you quietly listened to her interactions with the rest of the crew, secretly hoping that she could direct her attention to you once more. But you had to concentrate, you were currently on a mission to save Sanji, her brother. This wasn’t the moment to fall for your heart’s desires.

Despite your brief moment of determination, all you could think about was her silky looking hair, her long, defined legs, her beautiful blue eyes, and her plump, seducing lips. Getting her out of your mind was going to be harder than you thought.

…

…

…

…

…

And it was. Even after all you went through the following days, running into Pudding herself, trying to cross the Seducing Woods without dying in the hands of Cracker and Brulee or even when you witnessed the heartbreaking fight between Sanji and Luffy, you found yourself constantly thinking about her, sneaking glances in her direction, secretly hoping that she would interfere once again. But she didn’t. 

You barely managed to slip away from the gruesome encounter against the Charlotte family without being noticed. Too discrete to be caught, yet too tired to run too far away. You barely managed to hide beneath some of the severed remains of King Baum before collapsing to the ground, consciousness slowly leaving your body while you could only watch your crewmates being brutally crushed and captured by your enemies.

Heavy drops of water constantly fell on your face, managing to wake you up in the middle of the night. I took you a few seconds to remember what happened and where you were, scanning your surroundings to make sure it was safe to get out. With trembling limbs, you managed to quietly get up, still wary in case someone saw you. Fortunately, it was too dark and rainy to be seen, so you decided on being brave, making your way to the castle in an attempt to find any of your currently lost crewmates.

“This is my lucky night!” you thought, as you soon found yourself just a few meters away from Pudding’s own bedroom window and right in front of her, was the woman of your dreams: Reiju herself, but your hopes quickly shattered when you saw the bleeding wound in her leg and the brunette laughing in her face. You couldn’t even process what you were seeing before sensing footsteps coming in your direction. Quickly enough, you hid between the bushes nearby, surprised to see a gleaming Sanji with a bouquet of flowers and a basket.

Your heart clenched, he had betrayed your captain, no, your entire crew just this evening, and now he seemed so happy… And to add more to your feelings your crush was also injured and trapped inside a room with a potential psychopath. Unaware of your presence, Sanji began paying attention to what was going on inside the room, and so did you. 

The truth came crashing into both of you like a meteorite. Damn Pudding and her lunatic family. Now not only were your crewmates in danger, but the entire Vinsmoke family was planned to be murdered. You knew there was no way out of this situation if you were to continue being separated, so you hesitantly took a step out and showed yourself in front of the blonde. His soaked eyes met yours in silent, mutual understanding. No words needed to be said in the moment.

Eventually, Sanji helped you get inside the castle. He was a bit shocked that you had already met Reiju, and his mood lightened a bit when you told him you had a crush on his sister, happy that at least you found someone as trustworthy and good hearted as her.

After sneaking inside the infirmary, Reiju soon woke up, surprised to see you and her dear brother there, but then she remembered her injured leg. Then, Sanji and Reiju exchanged what they both knew. It felt awkward for you, this was a matter that involved them as a family, you didn’t even know what to say, glad that for now, they had seemed to forget about you. During these few minutes of them talking, you learned more about both of them than you had ever dreamed of. The way Reiju spoke her mind about her family and her wishes for her brother, only made you fall deeper for her.

A smooth voice brought you out of your daze “Hey, are you alright?” Lifting your head, you realized that Sanji had already left, too busy with his own mind to even remember you were also there. You felt your cheeks burning at the realization that you were now alone with the very same woman who had been plaguing your mind this entire time. Shyly, you averted her eyes, she was quietly observing you, her magnificent eyes scanned your form. Once again, you were in an awkward position, what were you supposed to tell her? You certainly weren’t fine, every muscle in your body was sore from running and passing out in the ground under a tree, your poor heart had also felt too many strong emotions, which brought you to the verge of tears again.

With a kind smile, Reiju motioned you to walk over to her bed. Curious of what she could possibly want from you, you swiftly approached her, almost tumbling over when her hand suddenly grabbed your arm and bent you over to her face level. Your shocked expression amused her, making her release a soft giggle before tenderly cupping your face with both hands.

“How rude of my little brother to leave behind such a lovely lady” Her right thumb began to slowly rub your skin, giving herself time to think what to say next, but before she could continue, your mouth moved on its own. “May I give you a kiss?” Not expecting her to take you seriously, your surprise was big when her soft, warm lips pressed against yours. The contact only lasted a few seconds, but to you, it felt like traveling to another dimension and coming back.

“I certainly didn’t expect you to be so bold, but I’m glad you asked. You’ve been living in my mind ever since we met the other day. Maybe it’s just a momentary thing, maybe it can be something else, but as you already know, everything will end tomorrow for us.” You quietly listened to her words, understanding what she meant. “I think you should go, perhaps you can catch up with Sanji in the hallways. You need to reunite with your friends. Please, take care, and take care of my dear brother as well” A sigh left your chest once she finished.

Taking her hand into yours, you deposited a small kiss on its back, muttering a soft “As you wish, my princess” before heading to the door.

“Wait. As my last wish, I want to know your name.” 

Without turning, you simply said “I’ll tell you tomorrow” and walked out the door. 

Your mission was now to find your crewmates and stop the wedding at all costs. It wasn’t an option.

[youryanderedaddy]

Hello, dear 💛 firstly, I am congratulating you for your blog, you’re doing an amazing stuff and I’d very delighted to support ya’ 💕 so here’s mine; what about a hitman/assassin yandere who is very infamous in underworld for his reputation finally finding his darling, what would be his first encounter and the after? A little bit smutty maybe? It’s up to you, 🌹

Aww, thank you so much for the support and for the idea. I hope that you will like how it turned out. It isn’t as filthy as I wish it was, but oh well, there is always a next time lol

 Title: Stone cold 

 Tw: female reader, obssessive behavior, non-con, dub-con, veery slight knife play, slight dirty talk 

   You should have known that something was up the very moment someone knocked on your door on a Friday night – it was unusual. Especially when you take into an account the weird accidents that had been happening the last three months. People in the neighborhood went missing one by one, some of your personal items like clothes, lipsticks and even toothbrushes were stolen and you always felt a pair of eyes burning a hole through your back. But still, you didn’t want to freak yourself out and tried to stay positive, reasonable. If someone wanted to take you out, they would have already done it, right?

 While mentally encouraging yourself, you slowly got closer to the black door. By now the knocking had stopped, but you could hear the soft breathing of your visitor outside of the apartment. In a way you really wanted to stop for a second and rationalize why this unknown person was breathing so damn loud, but decided against it – what good would it do anyways? With that in mind you finally reached out to unlock the door and slowly opened it to reveal a man, covered from head to toes in black. The darkness of the corridor had swallowed  all of his recognizable features and you could only make out his eyes, while his mouth and nose were hidden away by a ski mask. And if this wasn’t alarming enough, the bulge in his right pocket looked suspiciously close to the shape of a gun.

“Caught you.” The intruder hummed, looking more than pleased with himself, and his eyes sparkled with a wild emotion you didn’t know the name of. Your body was paralyzed at the sight of the weapon and you were starting to regret moving into such a dangerous area where no trace of a police involvement could be found. Not that you would have the time to call them anyways since the next moment the man had managed to push you  to the floor with a loud „boom”, pinning your body down with his own. You finally gained the courage to scream your heart out, but your terrified cries were quickly muffled by the gloved hand, covering your mouth.

 “You scream one more time and I will drill a fucking hole into your pretty little head.” The man whispered into your ear in a dark, eerie voice. “Right here.” He gently touched your forehead in a clear warning. You broke out into a cold sweat, but remained motionless, immobile. “Do you understand me?” The hitman asked huskily and pressed his elbow into your shrinking stomach. You nodded quickly, your heart now racing so fact you could almost feel the abrupt beats against your skin. You had made a grave mistake opening the door, but it was too late now.

 “Good.” The stranger smirked like a wolf, ready to tear apart the innocent lifeless lamb in front of him. He finally raised his hand away from your mouth. As if to prove your darkest fears and theories, the man suddenly took a sharp shiny knife out of his left pocket and slowly ran it trough your exposed collarbone. He only let the very end touch your skin but its coldness, combined with the adrenaline rushing into your veins, were enough to send you over the edge with fear. “Don’t panic. I have already decided to keep you for myself, so as long as you behave, I have no reason to hurt you. ” The man finally uttered after watching you squirm helplessly for a while, the stupid teasing smile never leaving his lips. He took off his mask and dropped the knife on the ground, just a few inches away from your carotid artery, and fiddled with the first button of your thin shirt. This mere action of his made shivers run down your spine and you couldn’t help, but shut your eyes tight, just for a moment, just to put yourself together.

 “Why are you doing this?” You whimpered, cringing at the way your voice broke into a sob right at the end. You never thought that you would be violated on the cold, hard floor by an unhinged psychopath, but fate always finds a way to screw with us, they say.

 “Do you know who I am, princess?” The man asked with a smug, arrogant expression on his face. You shook your head in response. In an alternative universe you might have thought that the intruder was quite handsome – broad shoulders, dark green eyes, a well defined jaw line and a strong muscular body. But in the current situation the only word you could use to describe the dangerous fellow was insane. He had shamelessly attacked you in your own home, your supposed safe heaven, and showed no remorse whatsoever. “You might not know me, but I know you.” The man continued. “I used to work with your father. ” His gaze was now fixed on you. “I doubt that daddy dearest has ever shared with you what he does for a living, but tell you, it isn’t pretty.” The trespasser lowered his head to bite at the soft skin of your neck, making the hairs on your neck bristle due to the unexpected contact with his teeth and because of that you couldn’t even register the hurtful words he was spitting about your father. You didn’t want to believe him anyways. “But he made a mistake.” The man added, still licking your sensitive skin. “The bastard messed with the wrong people. Stole money from my boss too. Lots and lots of it.”

 “T-that can’t be true.” You moaned in discomfort against your better judgment and tried to kick at his joints out of impulse. But of course, he quickly grabbed your leg before any damage was done and pinned it back to the floor.

 “Oh, but it is, princess. And that’s where I come into the picture.” The man purred contentedly, his attention on you once again. “I am quite infamous in the underworld, ya see. ” He stopped to make air quotes with his fingers. “ My name is Edgar, I am an assassin. I would kill anyone and everyone for the right price. ” For a second the murderer stared at intensely. You could swear that his eyes turned red in a spar of moments and in them you saw a mixture of bloodlust and a desire for flesh. “So when  they asked me to hunt you down in order to mess with your dad, I obviously agreed. It started off as a way to make an easy buck, but the more I followed you around and collected private information, the more I postponed killing you.” The man sighed, seemingly frustrated with himself. “At first I thought that I wanted to plan out your disposal well ahead of time and that’s why I was wasting so much time, but soon enough I realized I was interested in you.” He smiled softly this time as if he was recalling a pleasant memory, involving you. “You were so sweet, so… normal. I wanted you.”  The assassin admitted at last and took a deep breath. His little confession had made you vivid, frantic with worry, and suddenly you were a living, breathing creature again. You scratched at the back of his neck and summoned all of your strength left to get your hand out of his grasp. You tried to punch him right in the face, but your attempts were fruitless as he easily overpowered you. Before you could strike again the ruthless killer picked up his knife from next to you and put the blade under your chin. His eyes sparkled with childlike excitement.

 “There is no point in fighting me. Everyone already thinks you’re dead, I made sure of it.” The man moved the edge down, stopping at your cleavage. He licked his lips suggestively and the alarms in your mind went crazy all over again. “Your life belongs to me – your body and your heart too. I will take you right here and there is nothing you can do to stop me.” Edgar laughed cruelly as he cut the fabric of your blouse, revealing your chest, hidden by your plain bra. With one swift move the string holding it together was ripped apart and your upper body was fully exposed to the hungry eyes of the stranger. He cupped your breasts with his palms and massaged them gently, twisting your erect nipples lightly with his fingers. You wanted to numb the unfortunately pleasurable feeling but it wasn’t going away as the intruder kept on teasing the swollen tips.

 “S-stop!” You protested, shaking your shoulders violently. Everything was starting to feel too real and you couldn’t let the savage man take away from you something so intimate and personal. In the end he paid no mind to your continuous struggles and selfishly did as he wished.  Soon enough his hand traveled down your thighs, to your crotch. Edgar slid his wrist beside the elastic waistband of your panties and wasted no time, starting to rub the sweet spot between your legs. You held back a moan, as the embarrassment washed over you.

 “Don’t hold your voice back, princess.” The assassin growled in your ear, pressing harder on your sensitive bud. You couldn’t help, but cry out due to the intense pleasure you were receiving. “Yeah, just like that, let me hear you.” The man kept fingering you, while you arched your back, and eventually you felt yourself getting damp down there. The killer chuckled, satisfied with your cute reaction and the way you were squirming around his forefinger.

 “You act like you hate all of this, but your pussy is so wet, baby.” He suddenly drew his fingers in and out of your entrance, making a lewd pop of splashing juices just to get his point across. “You might turn out to be a little slut after all, huh.” Edgar whispered in your ear and licked the trace of salty tears down your scarlet cheeks. Your face felt red and hot, your eyes were still shut tight. The way his touch made you feel was so invasive, yet ecstatic none the less

 After the man had stretched you properly, he was ready to claim his prize. The assassin had spent so much time stalking you, following you, desiring you and now he finally had you in his arms, exposed and split open for him alone. Moving down to leave wet kisses and love bites along your shoulders and collarbone, the intruder lowered himself onto your tight, sloppy hole and you felt his hard erect member rubbing onto your tight entrance. A new powerful wave of hot, choking tears fell down your cheeks as you shook your head violently.

 “Please, I am begging you, don’t do it!” You whimpered, defeated and light-headed from the fear, arousal and adrenaline, pumping in your veins. Edgar ignored your pathetic pleas and instead decided to shut you up by gently pressing his lips against yours, moaning into his little seal of love. He pushed his big throbbing cock into your heat ruthlessly, unable to wait any longer, simply using your wetness as a lube. The murderer started thrusting into you in a steady, harsh rhythm, without giving you the time to adjust to his inhuman length. In just a few minutes your mind had stopped worked and you were reduced to a mumbling mess of tiny moans and mewls.

 “S-shit, you feel so good, princess. So fucking tight.” The man exclaimed, breathing heavily and quickly moving his hips back and forth along the way. One particular move of his send you very close to the edge and your walls clenched down on his dick, which didn’t go unnoticed. “Did I hit your sweet spot?” The man smirked, running a hand trough his sweaty dark hair. The other one went straight to your nipples, twisting and rolling them once again. You couldn’t stop yourself from crying out in unwanted, but intense pleasure. “Wanna cum, baby?” Edgar teased, as he touched every part of you  – your breasts, your belly and your soft thighs. “Wanna squirt all over my cock?” The criminal kept taunting you, driving you crazy little by little. “Do it. Cum for me, princess.” Soon enough your sensitive, over stimulated body convulsed as the powerful hot orgasm washed over you. You felt dizzy, tired and lost. Unfortunately, the crazed man wasn’t finished yet – he kept thrusting and thrusting, until he finally released into your very core.

 Once his breathing calmed down, the intruder pecked your cheek tenderly, pulling you in his lap. It went better than he had imagined it would.

 “You did so well, princess. So good for me.” Edgar stroked your hair lightly, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. But you couldn’t make half of his words as exhaustion and shame overtook your tired mind, the voice in your head screaming louder than the man’s love affirmations. But maybe it was better that way – anything else would be too painful after everything that had happened. “You are mine now.” The killer spoke after a while, before hugging you even tighter. Soon enough you would realize there wasn’t an easy way out of his warm, deathly embrace.

[athrialuxegna]

Stronger than she thinks Part 3

Triggers warning: mental and physical abuse, violence, swearing

Click here to listen to the song used in this chapter, it’s Antidote by Faith Marie. (I love this song so much!)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

Fanfiction | Archiveofourown | Wattpad

At 5 a.m I get up and leave my apartment. My feet drove me to the leaders' quarter. I felt out of place in this dark hallway. I walked up to door 655. I stood there, looking at the door as if it would come to life and eat me alive. It opened itself and I almost thought I did it by using telekinesis. I was almost disappointed to find Eric on the other side.

"What're you doing here so early?" His rasped voice indicated that he just woke up.

All I could see was his head and a glimpse of his naked torso. I could have waited a few minutes before coming up here. I chastised myself to keep my eyes from wandering along with his defined muscles. I cleared my throat and scratched my neck, my eyes fixated on the door handle.

"I came here because I want to report to Max. Brent ran into me yesterday and... and he'll do it again I'm sure of it."

Eric didn't say anything, he made a sign for me to wait. He let the door slightly open and I heard shuffle around the apartment. He came back fully dressed then he let me in. I stepped inside the large apartment. As usual, all doors were closed. I stood still in the middle of the main room. Eric turned to me.

"Coffee?" He asked.

"Sure." I accepted.

I sat on the couch, twirling my fingers in an attempt to calm my nerves. Eric came back with two cups, he gave me one which I took thankfully. I took a sip of the dark liquid, it burnt my throat in a comforting way.

"What did Brent say to you?" The question made me grimace although I knew it was coming.

"Four found me to tell me that he and you saw what happened from the control room."

Eric's body tensed up at the mention, he opened his mouth but I beat him to it.

"I ran off and bumped into Brent. The bastard wouldn't let go of me, he thought I'd ran into him on purpose to... fuck him." I spat the last part in disgust. "Now, tell me why you didn't inform me that two persons have seen  my rape?" I asked, my voice held all the betrayal I've felt since I'd known.

Eric sighed deeply and rubbed his eyes in a tired motion. I couldn't pinpoint why I was feeling so damn bad that Eric lied to me. Sure it was pretty big information that he kept from me but I knew it was deeper. He was the only one I confessed to. Hell, I didn't even understand why I told him but it implied that I trusted him enough. It felt like an eternity before I heard his deep voice again.

"I didn't want to let you know not to scare you away. It was easier if you'd confessed yourself." He explained plainly.

"I don't stand lies, Eric. Even minor ones can have disastrous consequences. The cold hard truth is better to know no matter what." I said more harshly than intended.

"I didn't lie to you when I said that I won't do anything about this without your consent. I had to play fool around Brent, it was hell not to punch him until he bled out." He admitted.

I was surprised that Eric would talk about how he felt with me. We had regular contacts, nothing out of work until last week. Something had changed between us, some sort of untold agreement that we could rely on each other more than professionally.

"One more lie and I won't trust you anymore." My voice was firm.

Eric nodded sharply, agreeing that no more lies would come out of his mouth. A casual silence settled in while we were sipping our black coffee. I needed to drink this or I'd faint in Max's office. I was content that we sold that trust issue before getting in the lion's den.

"What are you doing tonight?" He questioned out of nowhere.

I wasn't sure how to reply or how to take this. So far, I'd doubt that Eric would be one to take advantage of the situation. I raised a questioning eyebrow, my grip on the cup tightened ever so slightly. Eric's eyes flickered to my hands then plunged into my emerald orbs.

"A friend of mine has a band, they have rehearsal tonight. You should come." He elaborated.

I had a hard time imagining Eric's friends. He was mostly alone or with colleagues when I crossed paths with him. I nodded quietly. I was too awestruck to utter a word. A small smile crept upon his lips, enlightening his gaze. A knock at the door broke the peace in the apartment. The leader took a second before getting up. He knew what was going on apparently. Four came in view, a worried expression all over his tense face. His eyes found mine, a shadow crossed his dark eyes.

"Eric, we have to do something about this." Four's voice was nervous as he poked his head in my direction.

"I'm well aware Four. Chris just accepted to report this to Max."

Eric's demeanor had changed. His body was tensed, his jaw clenched and his eyes threw daggers. I was aware of their rivalry, the reason for this male show was beyond me though. They always were at each other's throats. The tension between these two was practically unbearable.

"No, Brent did it again." He said sternly.

The words made my blood run cold. I jumped up and walked to stand in front of Four. My eyes searched him for any sign of lies. Finding none, anger took the upper hand. I also felt guilty for some reason. Maybe if I hadn't run into him he wouldn't have gone after another girl. I shoved Four to be able to run out of the apartment. I had to find Brent and beat the life out of him. My brain numbed all emotions aside from the pulsating rage. I knew where to find him. I barged in the training room, panting and fuming.

Brent stopped in mid-push-up to look at me. A seductive smirk crept up his face. I stomped towards him and took advantage of his position to throw my foot right into his head. The cracking noise of his nose and his scream just fueled my wrath. I took him by the collar, my eyes burning with hate as I stared at his pained face.

"I'll kill you motherfucker!" I yelled in his face.

I punched him over and over. I couldn't stop myself, even when blood started to pour from his mouth and nose. His face was covered with it. All my pent-up emotions were thrown at him. The loud doors banged open. Heavy footsteps echoed in the room. I continued to punch Brent's unconscious body. Large hands wrapped around my shoulders to stop me. I wriggled in the unknown grasp, afraid that Brent's friend came to rescue him. I hadn't even checked the area, few Dauntless members had stop training to look at the commotion.

"Stop it, Chris!" Eric's stern voice made me stiffen.

He dragged me off Brent then let me go. I was panting, hair wild and eyes wide opened, I must've looked like some psychopath. My eyes darted to the ground when I saw the disappointed looks of Max, Four, and Harrison. Everyone gave me that look lately. Shame invaded my brain, my cheeks burnt from the sudden surge of emotion. I had been carried away, and sure, I'll pay the price.

"Christine, an investigation will be open. The other victim had already pressed charges against Brent. He will be judged by Dauntless law. You're off duty from now on. Your behavior will not be held against you seeing the circumstances but this is the last time you beat up a fellow Dauntless member." Max's voice boomed.

I looked at him and nodded. My breathing and my beating heart had calmed down. I was devastated to no end, but they didn't have to know that. Harrison wanted to say something but Max made a sign for him to take Brent out of the training room. Then the elder leaders took their leave. Eric stood still, his hard gaze burning a hole in my skull. I dared a glance in his direction then sighed. My bloody hands hurt me, not as much as my shattered ego.

"I told you to fight me not to kill Brent. Chris, you're running down the wrong path. Max won't forget this incident even though it's understandable. Don't let this bastard ruin your life."

I couldn't utter a word, I felt empty and full all at once. Eric's presence prevented me from breaking down once more. My wet eyes met his blue ones, disappointment evident in his irises. If he turned his back on me I had no one else to rely on.

"I'm sorry," I finally whispered. "I didn't intend to do this... I couldn't stop myself..."

"Meet me in the Pit at eight tonight." He said then turned on his heels.

Relief washed over me. He still supported me. I went back to my apartment to wash the morning away. I ate lunch at my place. I played the guitar all afternoon. It kept my mind at ease. I began to find some lyrics to put my feelings into words. It was harder than I thought to write a song. My efforts finally paid but one string broke in my fingers. I headed to the Pit to find the music store.

Music was a huge part of Dauntless. It didn't seem at first but every pretext was good to party. It was odd to think that Amity and Dauntless couldn't stand each other as they shared similar rituals and common interests in musical arts. I looked at the racks to find the right box of strings.

"Chris!" Gary's voice called me.

I turned around to see him by the counter, he was waiting for customers. I waved at him, took the box I was looking for, and headed to him. His short green hair stood out from his Dauntless black attire and his big brown beard. His slim figure seemed even frailer behind the big counter. Gary was the musical expert of the compound. He knew all music history from the beginning to nowadays. I used to hang around his store for hours to custom my guitar. It was only a few weeks ago but it felt like ages.

"Hey, Gary!"

"It's been a while since you've come here, sweetheart. I'm happy to see that you're playing again." A smile beamed on his face and his eyes sparkled with joy.

"Yes, I needed a little break.," I replied lightly.

"Can't wait to hear you play sometime. And I heard from a little bird that you have a nice voice to hear." He remarked, giving me a wink.

"I'm not good enough to show my skills but I'm working on it. This little bird lied, I sing in the shower but that's it." I replied casually.

"Your fellow initiates always brag about your singing skills, honey. It's more than just shower gibberish."

It was true that I had sung my ass off in the dormitories showers during my initiation. My fellow initiates didn't stop me so it became a habit. They would praise me and ask for songs from time to time during parties. They were the only Dauntless to have ever heard me singing. It was for fun mostly and to let some steam off during those stressful days.

"Alright, I'll think about it, Gary." I smiled at Gary.

The conversation ended up here, I paid and looked at my watch to see that it was seven-thirty. I had time to eat before meeting Eric. I went to my apartment to drop the strings' box then headed straight to the cafeteria. It was not full so I found a sit at an empty table. I ate with little appetite. My eyes scanned the half-empty tables nearby. Jenna and Kate were nowhere to be found. I sighed deeply. Were they ghosting me in return?

Someone sat next to me. I turned around to see Four. I rolled my eyes and resumed eating as if he wasn't there. I didn't want to talk to him. We ate in silence for a while.

"You shouldn't have done that." He blurted out.

"No shit, Sherlock." I scoffed. "If you're here to lecture me, it's not the time Four." I didn't even look at him.

"I don't judge you, Chris. I understand more than you think." His voice became quiet.

I remembered the rumors about his abusive father, Marcus Eaton. It was different in many ways but I guessed the traumatic consequences were similar. We were both destroyed, broken, and beaten. I could also talk to the other victim, she could entirely relate to my experience. However, I felt uncomfortable around Four. We fell in silence once more. I finished my plate and get up. Finally, I looked at him.

"Thanks, Four. But I don't want to talk about it."

I didn't let him time to respond and turned on my heels to put my plate away. It was nearly eight. I walked to the Pit. Life was buzzing around, Dauntless members were laughing, fighting, and hanging around. I smiled at the overwhelming energy. It made me feel alive and a part of something big. A large figure in my back made me turn around. Eric stood there, his Dauntless attire had changed to a more casual outfit. He wore a button-up shirt and black jeans. I bit my lip at the sight. Eric smirked at my reaction.

"You didn't tell me we had to dress up," I remarked casually.

"My leader's attire has been ruined today. I was at the Child Care service, it turned out pretty messy." He explained with an amused tone.

I raised a curious eyebrow. I almost forgot that Eric ran the Child Care service. It was a place where abandoned children and orphans were raised and taken care of. Picturing Eric with children made me laugh inwardly. The tough leader's image would be shattered into millions of pieces. I wondered how he was with the kids. I didn't think Max would approve if he treated them as initiates.

"I wish I was here to witness our ruthless leader handle children." I laughed.

"You don't know those children, they're little devils sometimes." He muttered under his breath though a small smile grazed his lips.

It was weird to see Eric look fond of children. A man appeared next to him, clasping a hand on his shoulder, a broad smile on his lips.

"We're about to begin." He said cheerfully.

He had intense dark green eyes, it reminded me of the pin forest I had seen in my geographic books at school. His imposing figure matched Eric's even though he had slim muscles. His face was round like one of a child, he had crooked teeth and seemed younger than Eric. The leader turned to his friend and nodded.

"Sure Lex, we're coming."

"The famous Chris, pleasure to meet you." Lex turned to me and bowed before me.

"Famous?" I asked dumbfoundedly.

I feared someone had already spread the word about my rape. Lex laughed heartedly at my wide-eyed face.

"Nothing to worry about, I'm Josh's friend. He praised your singing skills so much, I couldn't stop him." He explained, his big smile always on his lips.

My cheeks turn a dark red at the mention of singing. Eric's eyes locked on me, I could feel his intense stare. I laughed nervously and shrugged my shoulders.

"Oh, well, it's been years since my initiation. I can't believe that anyone remembered this."

"Just so you know they all miss your voice." He winked at me then walked away.

"So you sing."

I turned to Eric, fiddling with my fingers.

"Sort of, I sang in the shower all the time during initiation. It kept me sane from stress." I admitted.

"Interesting." He muttered more to himself than to me.

We entered a secluded bar where a makeshift stage had been set up. The band was already in place, testing the sound before playing. There were few people, some I knew like Josh, Matthew, and Grey. All three were in my initiation class. As soon as we step into the room, silence fell. All eyes turned on us. Eric sent them a look and they all came back to their conversations.

"Chris, it's good to see you here." Matthew greeted me.

"Hey, guys" I smiled at the three men.

They had got stronger and they became real Dauntless men throughout the years. They were in the same patrol squad, real brothers. They came from different families that had been friends for years, they grew up together and didn't part ways at any point. Same as Jenna, Kate, and I. Eric stood next to me, hands in his pockets, not paying attention to the conversation.

"There's free time after the rehearsal, anyone can play on the stage. I hope we'll see you up there." Matthew said enthusiastically.

"Don't count on it, I'm not quite ready to sing outside dormitories," I replied truthfully.

"Maybe you'll change your mind." Grey retorted optimistically.

When the trio had an idea it was nearly impossible to take their mind elsewhere. I rolled my eyes even though a small smile found its way on my lips. Lex called everyone to get attention.

"Let's go!" He shouted.

Music blared through the speakers around the stage. Vibrations surged through my body. Eric placed a hand on my shoulder, I flinched a little at the sudden contact. His eyes narrowed and he seemed thoughtful. I didn't really fear Eric, but I couldn't help but react badly to all physical contact.

"You want something to drink?"

I nodded in response then he disappeared at the countertop to order something. Music always eased my soul. My body moved slightly to the beat. I couldn't bring myself to go party last Friday because Brent would be here. Now there was no way for him to found me. I hoped he was rotting in a dirty cell in the depths of the compound.

Eric returned with two drinks. I took a sip, alcohol burnt my throat and I felt light-headed. I wasn't a drinker, I preferred to smoke but it was taboo in Dauntless. Many smokers would go on the roof or at the train racks not to be bothered. Zeke and Uriah Pedrad were notorious to sell weed nonetheless, leadership didn't mind as long as it didn't interfere with the faction's balance.

It was pleasant to let go. I began to dance once my drink finished. Alcohol intoxicated me. Eric joined me at some point, after his fifth drink or so. We were close, closer than ever. Our eyes were connected and couldn't let go, his large hands on my waist kept me against him. I lost track of time. The music came to a stop and we both quit our odd trance-like connection. I adverted my gaze to the ground and distance myself from Eric. When I glanced back at him, his eyes bored a darker tone. The same one Brent had when he was over me. Images flashed before my eyes. Unable to control the flowing memories, I clenched my fists and shook my head to get rid of them.

"Chris?" Eric called.

I needed to expel all of this. The trauma, emotions, memories. My body moved to the stage, all eyes were on me. I sat at the piano, my fingers caressed the instrument lightly. Jenna taught me to play a long time ago. I felt alone in the room to focus on my desire to pour my heart out. I began to play notes, I knew the song by heart. I opened my mouth and my voice filled the room.

“Finding refuge in my own lies How are you? I'm doing alright Small talk is a great disguise Just let me be Just let me be

Empty thoughts start to crowd my mind Am I only living, living to survive? Shake it off but I've lost the drive Just let me be Just let me be

Let me be okay

No one knows what goes on up inside my head There's a new kind of poison and it's starting to spread No one knows what goes on up inside my head They don't think I need help But I'm scaring myself

I just want to be okay I just want to be okay

All the voices in my head are coming to life They're getting louder and I'm, I'm terrified How do you run from your own mind? Is this what I've become? Take it back, what have I done?”

The last notes died in the silent room. A round of applause erupted from the little crowd. Josh, Matthew, and Grey were thrilled by my showcase. I found Eric's eyes on me, he knew all too well that the lyrics held some truth. I get up and walked out of the bar. I wanted to be alone. Alcohol had worn off during my performance. Emotions ate at me again,. They wouldn't let me enjoy life as I used to. Memories haunted me whatever I did. I walked to my apartment then went up to the roof. I spent the night smoking and gazing at the starry sky.

[sooibian]

Flambé - I

poster and edits/collage credits to @is-that-baekhyuns-shirt​ ! 

chapter two | moodboard by the lovely @pororodks​

🍜 pairing: kyungsoo x fem!reader ft. baekhyun, mark lee

🍜 description: pull up a chair. take a taste. come join us. life is so endlessly delicious. - ruth reichl

🍜 themes: fluff, crack (ish), slight angst, a lil bit of spice (in the future), rivals to lovers au

🍜 word count: ~ 9.7k

🍜 a/n: writing this makes me feel lonely and hungry and that, my friends, is a deadly concoction of emotions so while i wallow in my misery, i dearly hope you’ll enjoy this creation. i'd love to hear from you <3<br>

🍜 reference notes: yt channels: maangchi, one meal a day, bore.d; netflix shows: midnight diner, street food: asia, chef’s table

🍜 tag list: @changshapatrol​ @j-pping​ @kyungseokie​ @exosmuttytalk​ @his-mochi-cheeks​  @littleflowercrown13​ pls lmk if you’d like to be added/removed from the tag list!

Water bobs in frenetic bubbles in a massive ancient stone pot perched atop a fort of raging wood. Amidst brutal peals of thunder, a gushing stream rises from a nearby hill, obscuring the shrill cries of the sacrificial crab.

Chanting a spell, you lift the enormous crustacean by its pincers and lower it into the growling, pitch black utensil. Blubbering helplessly, it lodges its claws at the rim of the pot in desperation, seeking escape. The sound of your maniacal laughter reverberates through the cave as you thrust it back into the violent undulation with a heavy-handed flick of the bladed-spatula. 

All of a sudden, you’re swept over with a wave of unconsciousness, your skin tingles, and boiling water begins to fill up your lungs. 

You are alone at the bottom of the very same utensil.

“Help!” frantic, you stagger up, gasping for air. But the bladed-spatula wielding crab, now untied and hovering over you, roars jubilantly at your defenseless form.

Maybe the spell didn’t land, you think. 

“Please, Chef!” you whimper as a last ditch attempt. 

In one swift motion, it swooshes down to your eye level. 

Bushy black brows sprout on its forehead, just a little over a pair of big brown circles for eyes. Then comes the nose, followed by a bloody red mouth that snarls at you.

zzzz… 

“Late again?” 

zzzz…

zzzz…

zzzz…

4:00 a.m., your phone blinks.

In a sleep befuddled state, you reach out for the wailing device. ‘Late again?’ Chef’s cold, deep voice sounds in your consciousness as you wipe the droplets of sweat off of your forehead.

Chef. 

Doh Kyungsoo had insisted on the title and you’d boldly refused to call him that. What business does a man working at a Kalguksu stand in Gwangjang Market have, being called Chef. You’d seeked redressal with the higher ups. The owner. 

Your aunt.

“Aegiya, he has something that you don’t.”

“A dick?”

“YAH! A degree in culinary arts.”

“Imo, haven’t you watched Parasite? Anyone can forge documents these days and if so then why is he here? He could very well land a job at Four Seasons like Hyunjin. Think, Imo. Think!” 

“Exactly! With forged documents, he could be anywhere. But he’s here, no?”

“Maybe you’re just easier to manipulate.”

Finally, she said in her no-nonsense, stern voice. "Chef. You’re calling him Chef.”

Every time the egotistical madman opens that darned mouth of his, it makes you want to knock him down with a roundhouse and beat the living daylights out of him. 

But, counting to five, you always resist the temptation. 

Because one day, one glorious day, you’d take over your aunt’s business and the very first item on your agenda would be….well, the obvious. With a glimmer of hope, you flounder out of your comforter, muttering every cuss word you’d learnt…and crafted in the course of working with the devil himself.

.

.

.

“Ah 3000 is a bit too much for cucumbers", he says to the middle aged vendor, flashing a boyish grin. 

The face of sourcing has drastically changed in the last six months since Kyungsoo’s arrival. Prior to his dictatorship, Imo had tie-ups with vendors who’d hand deliver the produce every single day, without fail. Guess Kyungsoo didn’t fully comprehend the benefits of customer loyalty. ‘There could be better quality ingredients out there, Sajangnim…economically priced, I might add’, he’d convinced your aunt using his military corporal voice. No matter if it meant awkward break-ups with the vegetables ahjumma or the prawns ahjussi: you were left to do the dirty work.

And required to tag along for the routine 5 a.m sourcing runs. Every morning, he’d greet you with an accusatory ‘you killed my cat’ expression.

Groaning, you shift your weight from side to side. If only he’d quit flirting with every woman in the market and hurry up! The purchases have long exceeded the capacity of your humble cart. Flailing your numb arms awake, you urge him to speed up with a nudge of the knee but he glares at you like you’d asked him for a kidney. 

Kyungsoo has a tendency to overbuy but never does he help with a single bag. ‘I don’t like to sweat’ is his excuse. Which is pretty ridiculous considering he spends over ten hours a day overseeing a scorching frying pan at the stall. 

But you know better than to argue. 

Because as much as you loathe every fibre of his existence, he terrifies you a little. The man possesses the duality of a psychopath. As fierce as he is in the Market, ruthlessly competitive even, he’s quite the sweet talker. Incredibly charming. And you can bet your life on the fact that every ahjumma - whether or not a rival - would take a bullet for him.

“Ahdeul-ah”, the woman coos at him, making your insides violently contort, “you know how tight the market is these days. But I’ll throw in some more only for you.” 

The additional weight of three kilos on your right arm ends your sourcing run for the day.

***

“Chef”, huffing, you say to him on your way out, “I had a late night last night.”

“And I need to be privy to this little nugget of unwarranted information because?” He paces ahead of you at his usual lightning speed.

“No, I meant, could we stop”, panting you continue, “could we stop for a quick cup of coffee.”

Halting abruptly, he turns around to look you square in the eyes, “No.”

“Asshole!” You murmur under your breath.

“I heard that.”

.

.

.

Monday at Choi Yoonsun’s Kalguksu stall was busier than usual. 

It went by in a daze amidst the cacophony of a sizzling girdle, clanging of pots and pans and Imo’s relentless vocalization inviting guests to the stall. Having served thousands of bowls of Kalguksu and Kimchi Mandu, you rely heavily on muscle memory to get you through a workday’s demands.

Despite its massive chaos and commotion, you quite enjoyed working in the Market. 

Not being particularly skilled at much and having nearly flunked out of high school, cooking was the one thing that defined you. It was your safe harbour. You’d lost your father in an accident at the tender age of ten and your mother was forced to work long hours to put food on the table. So you honed your culinary skills, little by little, because you thought it vital for your own well-being as well as your mother’s. 

One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dined well.

At the end of yet another rewarding day, you leave a wet towel soaking in vinegar for Kyungsoo to clean the iron girdle and proceed to tend to the dirty dishes yourself. 

“Yahh!” Imo calls out for Kyungsoo and you, thumping her hand on the table, gesturing for you to join her.

“Ahh! Imo, there’s a huge pile of dirty dishes!” You cry out in response, only to turn around to find that ass-kisser already at the table, schmoozing with your aunt. Hastily taking off your grubby apron, you wash your hands and wipe them clean with a rag cloth. Straightening your black shirt, flattening unruly flyaways, you rush toward the table but she’s already up and ready to leave, “We’ll have dinner together tonight. I want to have a word with both of you.”

“But -”

“Sajangnim”, Kyungsoo interrupts, wagging a finger in your direction, face scrunched up in mock concern, “this one’s had a late night last night -”

“Chef! So I guess I’ll be seeing you tonight. As if seeing you every day of every week wasn’t enough already!” 

An overtly saccharine smile spreads across your face and his jaw hardens in response.

“Aish….you two…I’m leaving now”, shaking her head, she sighs, “see you both in two hours.”

.

.

.

Kimchi jjigae, Pajeon, Tteokbokki, Jajangmyeon, some leftover Bibimbap with sides galore from Hong Lim Banchan Stall. Imo clearly has something important on her mind.

But the vibe at the dinner table just doesn’t sit right with you. 

The reason for that could be the bespectacled black hole of negativity that’s seated besides you in all black clothing but there’s something off about Imo. 

She’s being a little too nice.

Fear gradually starts to settle in your bones. Is she finally closing down? Is this delectable fare an attempt at softening the blow? After all, she’d settled her husband’s debts over five years ago and her sons were doing well for themselves. Quite well, in fact. The elder one, Hyunwoo, is an investment banker and the younger one Hyunjin went to culinary school and is working as a chef at Four Seasons’ Chinese restaurant. It only makes sense for her to trade the Market’s gruelling ways for some much deserved peace and quiet.

“We’re closing down the stall”, she says coolly.

It’s like a punch in the gut.

“Imo -”

“Aegiya”, she rests her chin on her hand, face clouded over with serenity, “the Market’s given me everything. It’s given me a sense of independence…a sense of pride. It put my family back together. I used to think that I’m nothing without my husband and my sons…but the Market gave me an identity. I continued to work even after my husband’s passing not because I needed the money but because this is something that I’ve created and I’m mighty proud of what’s become of it today. My name is a brand in itself. And a decade ago I couldn’t have imagined this even in the wildest of my dreams.”

A million scenarios cascading through your head drown out Imo’s voice.

Would you now have to go back to Bucheon? Or invest in a stall of your own at the traditional Gwangjang that would never accept your big and bold ways with cooking? And to start from scratch? With a new recipe? Kalguksu with a twist, perhaps? But you had no insight into your aunt’s special broth. She’d never let you or even Kyungsoo for that matter whip up the hand-cut noodles. The two of you only ever helped with the ancillary tasks.

You soon come to the realization of not being the only one caught in the eye of the storm. Kyungsoo’s unwavering gaze is scarily fixated on the bowl of jajangmyeon before him. His miserable state gives you a fleeting sense of relief and it’s in that exact moment that he chooses to say something unpalatable.

“Sajangnim, you’ve worked too hard. It’s time for you to reap the fruits of your labour. We’ll be fine, you don’t have to worry about us.”

Of course he’ll be fine. 

Nearly all food stall owners in Gwangjang have been vying for him ever since the day he set foot into Choi Yoonsun’s with his phlegmatic personality. Whereas you had nowhere to go. The world conveniently assumes Imo hired you only because you were her poor sister’s daughter who she sought to help financially. Not because you had what it took to be there and survive.

“Did I say I was ready to retire?” She laughs, eyeing Kyungsoo quizzically. 

“Here’s the thing..I met up with a friend last month. She was looking for a buyer for her little family run restaurant in Gangnam. So I took out a loan, made her an offer”, balling her hands into fists she sighs, “put in the deposit…and the place is pretty much mine now!”

“IMO”, you yell, “you didn’t have to scare me with that long winded speech! God, you’re so dramatic!”

“Well, it is a big move. I’m not sure either of you are ready to take the leap. It requires a tonne of work and I may not be able to pay half of what you earned at the Market for at least two months until we open. It’ll take the restaurant two years or so to break even and only then will I be able to afford scaling your salaries. On the other hand, what I can do is, help you secure a job at the banchan stall since you love seasoned spinach so much and Kyungsoo even stands a chance at managing one of the Pakgane stalls!”

Pakgane is the mung bean pancake stall that had gotten so popular that the owner managed to branch out of Gwangjang. So even your beloved Imo believes that you’d make for a better “help” and Kyungsoo, a Manager. 

Ugh!

“I’m coming with you”, you say firmly, “I’ve saved up a little and Eomma will gladly pitch in, if need be…”

At this point, you’d expected Kyungsoo to be ready with his luggage considering the little sycophant he is but his expression is stoic, eyes still glued to the jajangmyeon bowl, filling you with insane hope. 

He was going to jump ship…finally!

“Chef…”, you couldn’t resist, “you don’t have to worry about us…I’m more than enough for Imo. You may…”

He shoots you an angry glare making you chew on your unsaid words. But wanting to rile him just a little more, you excuse yourself and bring out a bottle of ketchup. Squeezing it generously atop the stack of pajeon, you snicker maliciously. 

Ketchup. 

The tangy, unassuming condiment is the sole reason Kyungsoo abhors your very existence. But as this dinner marks the end of his torturous regime, you celebrate with ketchup - lots of it - right in front of his nasty eyes.

.

.

.

Steam swirls in different directions and at every twenty metres a contrastive redolence tickles your olfactory senses. Experiencing Gwangjang as a guest is clearly a far richer experience compared to the donkeywork involved in life as a vendor. 

A proper send-off is essential lest Kyungsoo decides to stay, even if it means creating a huge dent in your pocket. You plan on giving him a final tour of the Market where you could both say your goodbyes while receiving a premium fuel of vitamins, minerals and carbs. 

Lots of carbs.

“Let’s start with Pakgane”, says Kyungsoo, with a skewered sausage in one hand.

Wanting to start with nothing less than the best in order to create a lasting impression, you shake your head in response. This was supposed to be a farewell he’d never forget.

With every step, the aroma of scallops drizzled with butter and cheese grows stronger. You start your tour by ordering two portions of the delectable street food which sets you back considerably but you’re far too elated to care, even refusing Kyungsoo’s offer to pay as the woman sets the scallops ablaze with a blow torch.

“Do you know what this technique is called?” Kyungsoo gives a little nod in the direction of the flaming food.

A teachable moment. How does his own personality not wear him off?

You’d made a firm resolve to not let any of his condescension bog you down so with a sweet smile, you reply, “No, Chef. I do not.”

“Flambé, minus the alcohol. Do you know how they manage that?”

The ahjumma calls out for you and you nearly jump to collect the order, the slight upward curl of his lips coming into your peripheral vision.

***

The Market supposedly looks the same as it did fifty years ago and you quite enjoy eating your way through it. The tour makes your heart grapple with nostalgia even though your partner’s vibe is akin to a mug of insipid coffee.

Although you’d spent only a little over a year at Choi Yoonsun’s, the goodbyes were long and hard. Some of the vendors squeeze you and Kyungsoo in heart wrenching hugs, the others give you a little cash to help you through the transition and for some of the food, you pay only with smiles and thank yous.

After a gastronomic fiesta entailing tteokbokki, pajeon (minus the ketchup - you did it Kyungsoo’s way), sashimi, kimbap, different types of banchan, a thousand more teachable moments, the both of you end the day on a sweet note with hotteok. 

The ahjussi wishes you both luck, making you choke back tears. 

Your moist eyes don’t escape Kyungsoo’s attention.

“Are you…. Is the hotteok spicy? No, I mean it’s obviously not…erm”

The dam of your tears explodes. 

You were going to miss this place. Even the less appealing aspects of it. You were going to miss the kimbap unnie who greeted you with a hug everyday, also the snooty mandu ahjumma who could hardly stand the sight of Choi Yoonsun’s crew. You were going to miss washing dishes in the winters with water that was supposed to be ice and the sweltering summers that had you sweating through every layer of clothing. 

Hell, you were even going to miss Kyungsoo.

“No”, you sniffle, “No, no Chef, it’s nothing. Take care of yourself. As much as I’m glad that our fateful working relationship has met its rightful end, I truly, genuinely, wish you luck. And learn to smile a little more, yeah?”

“Are you dying?” Eyes glinting, mouth agape, he chuckles.

“What? NO! What? You’re leaving. What is wrong with you?”

“Who says I’m leaving?”

“You! You’re not coming with us to Gangnam!”

“Says who?”

“Your stupid face that looked like it was hit by a freight train when Imo broke the news last week!”

“I’m not leaving?” He draws his words out in a question.

“This is no time to joke, Chef. You are leaving!”

“Says who!”

“Your stu-”

“Stupid face? I wasn’t planning on leaving at all. I’ve even found myself a place close to the restaurant. Oh yeah, sorry for having misled you. It was really just - my stupid face.”

.

.

.

A month from Grand Opening

It’s not just about food.

Food only makes for a fifth of a restaurant’s success equation. Management and promotional skills are essential because a restaurant is, first and foremost, a business. 

Mark Lee, the young consultant from PCY Associates had imparted this crucial business knowledge to your compact team of three aspiring restaurateurs in exchange for an egg sandwich and watermelon juice. The enthu-cutlet has been overseeing the legal set-up of your humble restaurant for a month now. 

However, according to Mark, the crème de la crème of the success equation is customer service. 

Customer service. 

Here’s where the crusty Chef was supposed to take a backseat and you - a real people person, a socially adept charmer - were to sashay in and shine. 

These ideas were a bit too much for that thick, globular skull of his so you tried to educate him with a practical example. 

He’d added a rule to the first draft of the menu - a shared document for brainstorming purposes. It read ‘No ketchup for you.’ This rule (or insolence as you called it) went against your belief system as the restaurant’s to-be-anointed Manager (a girl can always hope). ‘Never say no to a customer’ being the foundation of customer service, you slashed the rule with a strikethrough. 

But the next time you tried to log in, you found yourself locked out of the document. 

“Chef, why can’t I find the draft menu anymore?”

He’s aggressively julienning leeks, pretending to not have heard you. 

“CHEF!”

“What?” Finally, he looks up. The skin between his eyebrows pinched and his arm raised to level his brand new 1-piece chef’s knife (initials etched into the blade) with his profile.

“Why-why did you lock me out of the draft menu?”, you stammer, gaze trained on the cutting edge glistening with tears of The Leeks.

Kyungsoo’s been visibly getting jittery by the day as opening day approaches.

He deliberately places the knife to the side of the board and you take a gutsy step forward. He uses a cold, serial-killer voice to ask, “What makes you think that I locked you out?”

You lean over from the other side of the granite counter, face barely an inch from his, “Who else could’ve? Imo is technologically challenged.”

“Fine”, he sighs, “I locked you out.” His lips curl up in a menacing smirk, “What are you gonna do about it?”

Grinning, you stare right into his dark eyes and let out a shrill, high-pitched scream, “IMO!”

This throws him back a few steps and he’s rubbing and pulling at his right ear when Imo walks into the kitchen. 

“Yah! Am I your babysitter? Whatever it is, I don’t want to hear about it. I am asking you”, she looks at you before spinning her head in Kyungsoo’s direction, “and you, to sort this amongst yourselves. For once!”

“But-but Imo!”, you protest.

“Aegiya, I really don’t want to ship you back to Bucheon.” 

***

“Here’s your tax ID, liquor license… okay so this was a touch-and-go because the officer is transferring to another Department and the one that’s supposed to be coming in is a real piece of work….” 

Mark Lee is here with the final set of documents. 

Imo’s eyes are gleaming with excitement and sheer joy but she’s held a businesswoman-like composure. On the other hand, Kyungsoo looks very much like himself - like someone’s sucked the life out of him. 

You bring Mark his usual egg sandwich and watermelon juice because there’s only so much your restaurant can offer at this point in time, feeling brutally overwhelmed with the volume of pending tasks until opening.

After practically inhaling his mini-meal, Mark dabs his mouth clean and says, “My work here is done. If you need anything you know where to find me. And good luck. Trust me, you’ll need it.”

Imo looks worriedly at Kyungsoo and then at Mark and at Kyungsoo again which prompts him to ask rather uncomfortably, “What do you mean ‘you’ll need it’?”

Mark’s dramatically long sigh is an indication of a sermon to follow. As he leans back into his chair, Imo and Kyungsoo instinctively cower like an invisible weight has been plopped onto their shoulders. The sight is beyond pathetic: they are like peasants before a feudal lord. It makes you want to smash the know-it-all smirk off of Mark’s face.

What comes after, though, isn’t a sermon but a sentence and a half that leaves the three of you shaken.

“The dining business here in Gangnam is hyper-competitive and most restaurants fold in six months. And if that sandwich is any indication…”

Kyungsoo valiantly advances to rescue your team out of the dark bubble of Mark Lee’s words with, “What’s wrong with the sandwich? She makes a perfectly good sandwich!”

What was supposed to be a compliment somehow sounds very wrong in your head, but before you could give him the death stare he leaps to damage control, “What I mean is, we all ate the very same sandwich for breakfast. I don’t usually dissect food for novices but the egg was perfectly cooked, mayonnaise was just the right amount and the seasoning was balanced, too. So I’m not sure what you’re trying to say. We’re serving perfectly good food here.”

“The thing is, this is something even my mother could make and dude, believe me, she’s terri…her culinary abilities are highly questionable. Also, do you think your friend would’ve sold you this place if it were thriving, Mrs. Choi? She’d inherited it from her grandfather and she sold it to you at a dirt cheap price because she was neck deep in debt. I’m sure you know, real estate here is three and a half times the country’s average. So not only do you have significant funds locked into a possibly deadweight property but also your plan clearly lacks vision. Gwangjang’s Choi Yoonsun can keep you afloat for four…maybe six months but Gangnam’s Choi Yoonsun has to create an identity for herself. Look around you, everyone’s serving good food”, Mark tilts his head in Kyungsoo’s direction, “Here, people eat with their eyes first. Now, I’m not saying family-run restaurants serving traditional cuisines don’t do well. A lot of them have been passed down for generations. What I’m saying is…..find your USP.” 

Mark squints, looks into the distance, and pinches the air a lot during this damp squib speech of his.

So the menu isn’t very different from what Choi Yoonsun served in Gwangjang. Her USP has always been homestyle cooking with a twist. But that was the demand of a Market that upheld traditionalism and Gangnam, being precipitously everchanging, would be quite something to keep up with. 

The weight of Mark’s words manifests on Kyungsoo’s shoulders. He lets out a sharp exhale and starts to clear the table, giving him plenty non-verbal cues to leave. You rush to help him out and meet his defeated form (crouched over the sink) in the kitchen.

The shuffling sound of your footsteps reaches his ears and he pivots to face you.

“We’ll be okay”, your voice is but a calm whisper prompting his creased forehead to slowly smoothen.

“We’ll be okay”, he forcefully echoes.

.

.

.

Grand Opening Day

A frisson of fear laced with excitement descends your spine.

Choi Yoonsun’s is enveloped in a pin drop silence save for the sound of Kyungsoo’s pacing. It’s grating on your nerves but Kyungsoo pacing is far better than Kyungsoo “going over the plan” for the umpteenth time. 

The kitchen’s prepped for battle so you’re seated at the cash counter, cuddled close with Imo, placated by her soothing, motherly presence. The three of you are like ticking time bombs, ready to go off at any minute.

This, right here, is the perfect example of a pinch-me-it-doesn’t-feel-real moment. You allow yourself to feel the forces at play as your eyes take in every nook and cranny of the restaurant. The place is agreeably well lit and the ventilation hoods aren’t an eyesore either. The decor’s minimalistic with a sand and stone colour scheme and the floor’s been scrubbed spotless. Eight sturdy wooden tables, tactically placed, allow for movement and privacy yet the area has been optimally utilized. 

Fifteen minutes for the ‘Open’ sign to light up. 

Kyungsoo and you proceed to help each other out with crisp bright yellow aprons affixed with red name tags (handpicked by Imo, the aprons made you both look like dumpy chicks) and clear plastic masks and wish each other luck with curt nods.

***

Imo’s sons are the first to arrive with some friends in tow. They are served with Kyungsoo’s Yachae Twigim and Budae Jjigae, your Gyeran-mari and Kimchi Bokkeum-bap and of course, Imo’s famous Kalguksu and Kimchi Mandu. Makes you wonder if they’ve had enough of it but they seem to be greatly enjoying themselves. Some of Hyunjin’s friends from Four Seasons are here too, their mighty presence driving Kyungsoo to the edge.

But a few compliments from them are enough to soothe his nerves.

Among the flurry of patrons through the day were vendors and stall owners from Gwangjang along with their family and friends, Kyungsoo’s acquaintances who you knew nothing about and neither did you care enough to ask, Mark Lee with his very handsome boss Park Chanyeol also dropped by sometime around noon. 

Your mother couldn’t make it to the opening. It stung a little but as usual, you sucked it up and went on with the highly stimulating day that anyway left you with very little time to mull over any unpleasantness.

***

By the end of it, you were pretty sure you’d wake up with blistered feet the next morning. 

It’d been a splendid opening with sales tallying up to KRW 2500,000: nearly two and a half times the estimate. Imo breaks into a dance at the figure, even Kyungsoo lips stretch into a reluctant grin.

You intensely wish Mark Lee were here to witness this euphoric win.

.

.

.

Six months later

Mark Lee had been right. 

Choi Yoonsun was miles from creating an identity in Gangnam. Regulars from Gwangjang could make it to the restaurant only twice or thrice a week, support from acquaintances had been gradually trickling, and some negative reviews floating around the internet about poor table turnover had also been driving potential guests away.

You tried to mitigate this by hiring part timers at minimum wage but for several reasons, none of them managed to stay: anti-social hours and Kyungsoo’s hostility being two of the key causes.

On your best days, the sales would total up to KRW 1500,000 and the weekday numbers had been dismal.

***

“Dooly-dooly!”

Your eyes light up at the familiarity of that voice. Mirroring its excitement, you run into the arms of its owner.

“Baekhyunnie!” 

Kyungsoo peers over his glasses while scrubbing the iron girdle, studying the floppy haired, cheerful man with a wide grin plastered across his face that’s pranced into the kitchen at closing time. 

Byun Baekhyun has been your best friend since time immemorial. Growing up in Bucheon, he’d been the only family you’d known besides your parents and Imo’s family. You weren’t even as close with Hyunwon and Hyunjin as you were with Baekhyun. Since work always kept your mother busy, his parents had practically been the ones to raise you and not once did they make you feel like an outsider.

“Yah! Quit calling me Dooly we’re not kids anymore! Have you eaten? Let me whip you up something real quick. Look at youuuu, when did you get this skinny! How long are -”

“Not to interrupt, but you’ve left the water running”, Kyungsoo drones, lazily pointing in the direction of the sink. 

You clearly remember turning it off before darting to greet Baekhyun.

‘Sonofa-’ exasperated, you mouth to Baekhyun, whose eyebrows have shot up to his hairline out of vicarious embarrassment, before turning around to face Kyungsoo who seems to be scrubbing the iron girdle to gold. “Chef, you’re closer to the sink.”

“Reiterating. You’ve left the water running. If you wanna go on tittle-tattling, by all means….this wastage is on you.”

“Make yourself comfortable”, too exhausted to pick a fight, you whisper to Baekhyun, gesturing towards the closest table, “I’ll be with you soon.”

***

“It’s bad”, Imo sighs, burying her face in her hands. 

11 P.M., two hours past closing time. 

The sparse lighting in the restaurant is causing you an eyestrain to look at the scribblings on the register. Your neck and shoulder muscles are tense from all the chopping, stirring, and scrubbing: a slow day does not translate to an easy day. You notice that Kyungsoo is growing weary, too. 

Or maybe discouraged.

You communicate with each other in evasive glances as if the restaurant not doing well is, somehow, on the two of you. 

“Imo”, Baekhyun speaks first so as to allay the looming dread, “I’ve been reading the online reviews and those who’ve visited here have been raving about the food - especially the Kalguksu. They say you’ve brought the flavours of Gwangjang to Gangnam. There’s this one thing, though - ”

“Sajangnim”, Kyungsoo interrupts a zealous Baekhyun’s pitch, “I don’t think this is any of his business. We’ve been keeping track of reviews and such - ”

“Let the boy speak. He’s family.” She says softly, pressing her fingers to her temples, clearly clutching at straws now.

Kyungsoo clenches his jaw and nods in Baekhyun’s direction, indicating him to continue.

“There-there”, Baekhyun stutters, eyes fixed on Kyungsoo who’s vaguely fascinated with his cuticles, “are some complaints about slow service. Particularly between starters and mains.”

After an uncomfortably rich pause, Imo gently rests her hand atop Baekhyun’s “Baekhyunah, how long are you here for?”

“For as long as you need”, the apples of his cheeks rise as his eyes crinkle into a gleeful smile.

***

“Somebody is early. Also, the cart looks different…it’s..?” 

Dressed in his usual black athleisure, round eyes framed with chunky glasses, Kyungsoo jogs lightly to match your out-of-character sprightly pace into the market. 

“Bigger. I bought a new one.” You chirp, shooting him an out-of-character smile.

Even the dreary weather isn’t a buzzkill because today is supposed to be Baekhyun’s first day at work.

“How did you get Sajangnim to agree? She can be -” 

“Miserly? Stingy? Close-fisted? Also, when will you stop calling her Sajangnim?”

“Just so that you can stop addressing me appropriately? Dream on. And I meant economical. Sajangnim is economical.”

“Chef, do you even listen? I bought it. With my own money. I figured since we’d need more ingredients now, we could use a bigger one.”

“And how did you come to that conclusion?” Impervious to his smug tone, you step away to pick up a one kg bulk pack of dried shiitake mushrooms while he’s examining a small batch of zucchini. 

“Because Baekhyun’s gonna be working with us now.”

“Temporarily. And we’re suddenly going to start doing better because of an inexperienced, unemployed -”

The wheels of the cart hit his ankle when you swivel it, making him wince in pain. 

“Oops! Sorry.”

“You did that on purpose!” He chides.

Half-shrugging, you say nonchalantly, “Serves you right. Baekhyun may be inexperienced but he isn’t unemployed. If anything, he’s doing us a favour. He’s whimsical like that.”

“I know”, he states, forcefully taking control of the cart, “I know he isn’t unemployed. He owns a Hapkido training academy for elementary school children and is on a break these days. I looked him up. I, personally, wouldn’t have hired him if it were my restaurant but I’m sure Sajangnim -”

“Chef?” You stop dead in your tracks.

“What?”

“You’re on…” you wanted to say ‘social media’ but the words sounded almost blasphemous to be used in front of a very uptight Doh Kyungsoo: a man with absolutely no online presence. 

“What is it?” His eyebrows knit together in annoyance.

“Nothing, let’s go.”

“You know what else is different today?” He says on your way out, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips.

“Hmm?”

“You. You’ve showered.” He chortles, thinking he’s being funny.

But with a hardened expression, you let him know that he’s crossed a line.

“Too far?”

“A tad.”

“Let’s get you some coffee.” 

“No.” You smile inwardly, relishing his apologetic tone.

“No?”

“We have to pick up Baekhyun’s apron and nametag.”

.

.

.

At first you thought you were imagining this. 

A group of high school girls frequenting Choi Yoonsun’s must obviously be because they want to get healthy, homely meals instead of the trash served at fast food chains or the uneconomical subsistence of instagrammable cafes. They’re obviously not here for the charming server with an athlete’s body and a boyish grin.

“He should wear respectable clothing”, says Kyungsoo, indicating at Baekhyun’s skinny jeans and fitted black tee, hiss sharper than the sizzle of minced garlic in butter.

“Why, I don’t think his cleavage is showing”, you retort, scooping out a serving of rice from the cooker.

“You have absolutely no shame”, he states matter-of-factly, stirring the soup pot.

“What? Is my cleavage showing, too?” You ask in mock-surprise, fixing your apron theatrically.

“Forget I said anything.” 

The aroma of Kimchi Jjigae had you salivating and you couldn’t wait to taste it for seasoning. Kyungsoo’s cooking amply made up for his drab, lacklustre personality. 

“Chef, lighten up. Any publicity is good publicity.”

“You sound like a tabloid journalist”, leaving the soup to simmer, he turns around to face you, “What’s wrong with your hair?”

“I got a haircut”, scrunching your face you respond suspiciously, the fact that he noticed it despite the hair cover makes your heart palpitate.

Taking the unwarranted attention away from your hair, you ask hastily, “You think they’re here for Baekhyun and not your food, right?” 

“Ye-yes”, he stutters, looking away.

“These people wouldn’t be here time and again if it weren’t for the food, Chef. You should know that.” 

Moving closer to him, you lightly dust flour off of his shoulders. 

“How did you get flour on your shoulders?”

His ears go scarlet. 

.

.

.

Imo comes into the kitchen while Kyungsoo and you are preparing for the day ahead. Baekhyun has gone down to Bucheon to oversee the affairs of his training academy. 

“There’s this new officer who’s reviewing all liquor permits issued this year. Be careful and make sure to check all IDs twice. I’m taking the day off. Will you two be okay by yourselves?” She swooshes out of the kitchen, not bothering with your incoherent replies.

“Can’t believe they’ve ditched us on a Friday.” You grumble, soaking clams in fresh water.

“We’ll be fine.” Kyungsoo reassures you.

***

It had been quite the day and nearing closing time, your feet were going sore. Baekhyun taking on the toughest role in the restaurant made you greatly appreciate his efforts. While most guests are civil, he’s experienced his fair share of rowdy ones firsthand and his ability to deal with them is unparalleled. He’s never, ever let any matter escalate to a point of embarrassment and has demonstrated the maturity to overcome every crisis situation with a smile on his face. 

The fact that he’s only temporarily here suddenly starts to wear you out. 

Kyungsoo sticks a handwritten note on the steel holder which reads - Yangnyeom - 2. It’s only been a little over eight months since the restaurant’s been fully functional yet the holder’s worn out more because of use and less because of time. 

“About time we advanced to kitchen order tickets, right? Saves Baekhyun…or either of us unnecessary excursions to the kitchen. Also, billing will be simpler that way.” You offer while straightening your apron and getting ingredients ready for Kyungsoo to prepare the sauce.

“Yeah, it does”, he seems really out of it as he’s getting chunks of juicy chicken ready for the fryer. He’s moving around the kitchen rather clumsily, nearly tipping over the bottle of corn syrup.

“Wah, Chef, are you alright? Would you like me to do this?” 

Resting his back against the wall, he slowly sinks to the floor, face buried in hands. “Yes, please.”

While you’re preparing a sauce the recipe for which you know like the back of your hand, his instructions don’t cease. The only thing you’ve ever liked about working with this man is that contrary to Imo, he does not believe in micromanaging. But right now it feels like you’re in the kitchen with her and not with Kyungsoo.

The tension causes you to lower the chicken into the fryer hastily resulting in specks of flaming oil to splatter onto your arm. 

He’s quick to rush to your aid with a cold towel.

“Yah, Chef, you’re making me nervous, what’s with all this nitpicking?” You almost yell at him as he’s gingerly dabbing the towel on the affected area.

“I’m sorry, I am so sorry. It’s just”, he pauses briefly, worrying at his lower lip, questioning eyes peering into yours, before helping you with the chicken - slightly more confident in his movements now, “whatever you do, don’t get out of the kitchen. Table number four, those guys there, are weird.”

“Weird, how?”

“Rowdy, mannerless and drunk. Really, really drunk. Steamrolled by the ‘Friday happy’.”

“Ah, Baekhyun’s well-versed with their kind. Don’t worry, just be polite. Are you sure you don’t want me to intervene?”

“Positive and whatever happens?”

“Stay put. Chef?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s only thirty minutes to closing. We can get through this, okay? And don’t accept further orders!”

***

Twenty minutes after, you’re aimlessly scrolling through your phone to take your mind off the stabbing pain in your lower abdomen. Simultaneously playing a little game of inventing the kind of content Kyungsoo would upload if he were a user on these sites only to be jolted with the realization as to how little you know about the man.

As the restaurant’s occupied with boisterous conversations and raucous laughter, you’re counting seconds to closing. Multiplying three hundred with every bracket of five on the clock.

The din comes to an abrupt halt when you hear a middle aged man bellow, “Yah, punk, do you have a death wish?!”

Gradually moving closer to the door, you try to get a view of the scene outside.

You see a polite but firm Kyungsoo bow before the man, “We can’t serve you any more alcohol, sorry, we’ll be closing now.”

The other two men along with the nasty vermin have long passed out. You quickly call for a cab, subconsciously grabbing a hold of Kyungsoo’s knife in the process.

“DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHO YOU’RE TALKING TO RIGHT NOW?” He thunders.

Kyungsoo recoils as the man grows louder by the second. “We cannot serve you anymore alcohol, sir.”

It happens in a flash. 

So fast you almost feel like you’re astral projecting.

One moment, the man raises a hand to strike Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo swerves. You dash out of the kitchen with the knife in your hand. Face to face with the man, you scream until your lungs hurt, “GET OUT! I SAID GET OUT OF MY RESTAURANT!”

The vermin’s companions stir at the sound. 

With frightened eyes they take in the scene as their drowsy brain is still trying to assess the situation for action. They soon pull the man by his shoulders while Kyungsoo’s tugging at your knife bearing arm that’s still raised in combat mode, simultaneously apologising to the rowdy guest.

Wagging his sausage like finger at the both of you he warns menacingly, “You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

Slapping the tab on their table, you proceed to threaten him, “Settle this and get - the fuck - out of my restaurant before I call the cops.”

Throwing a couple of bills on the table, he staggers out, grumbling, “You just wait”, still wagging his finger and reeking of stale alcohol. 

It was only then that your grip on the knife eases as Kyungsoo carefully draws it out of your hand and you see, just like you, he’s shaking too.

“What just happened?” He’s the first to speak as you sit across the table from him, dark orbs glinting in the dim light, forehead beaded with sweat. His hands are tightly wound together as he places them on the table. One day without Baekhyun and Imo and Kyungsoo and you had messed up real bad. By the looks of it, neither of you were ready to accept this fact.

“We did exactly what we were supposed to do. Stop worrying!” You say more to yourself.

He’s not convinced.

“Chef, that man’s reaction wasn’t something that you could’ve preempted or….controlled in any way.” Finding yourself getting mildly annoyed, you try your best to lay the edge off of your voice. All you wanted was for him to be alright because, technically, none of this was his fault. 

“Would you have allowed him to take a swing at you?”

“He was far too drunk for that”, he exhales heavily and you notice his stance relax before clamping up again, “but you-you came out with a knife!”

His tone isn’t accusatory. He’s simply baffled.

“Fight or flight…”

“It’s my knife.”

“I’ll be sure to hide the murder weapon.”

He nods slowly.

“Do you need some water? Tea? A hug?”

You half expect him to scowl or groan or whatever it is that he usually does but he seems to be actually evaluating his options.

“A beer?”

“Down for Chimaek?”

Stood up to go into the kitchen, you awkwardly, and very, very slowly put an arm around his shoulders and give him a tight squeeze.

***

This was your first time having fried chicken and beer in complete silence - a few minutes felt like hours with the incident still hovering over both of you.

“Chef, you know we haven’t murdered anyone right?”

“The restaurant feels like a scene of crime to me. Also, what did he mean by ‘you just wait’?”

“Eh. Empty threats. Testosterone poisoning. Do you think they’ll throw me into prison for threatening him with a knife?”

“You should be sent in for pilfering stock”, he says gesturing at the tray between you, taking a chunky bite of the chicken, “you were going to take this home, weren’t you? It’s good, by the way.”

“Ah, this makes me happy”, you lean back into your chair, smiling discreetly at Kyungsoo’s messy fingers and mouth.

“A compliment from me makes you happy?” His eyebrows shoot up as he takes a swig of beer.

“Testosterone poisoning”, you say pointing an accusatory finger at him, “I couldn’t care less what you think. I’m pretty confident in my skills.”

“As you should be. Then what ‘makes you happy’? The thought of going to prison?”

“Yes”, you lie, “you think I’ll have a prison bitch?”

“I think you’ll be the prison bitch.”

You open your mouth to protest but what escapes is a mortifying burp.

Uncomfortable silence.

Meeting his eyes, you purse your lips, feeling your face flame. He smiles at you and says, ‘wait for it’, before belching. Loudly. Sending you both into fits of laughter.

.

.

.

“What happened here last week?”

Kyungsoo and you are seated opposite Imo like criminals before a cop in an interrogation room. Baekhyun is holed up in the kitchen, cleaning. For the most part, he avoids conflicts like these where Imo’s red hot beam of anger could be misdirected at him. 

She’s glaring at the responsible child, Kyungsoo, to break first but since it was your idea to keep the incident from her you start to explain. By the time you’re done she seems angrier, but not at the two of you. Only after a tiny lecture on how you should learn to be more tactful in such situations does she spell out her real concern.

Turns out the man the both of you had a scuffle with last week is the new officer’s brother-in-law. Now, the restaurant’s received a notice from the liquor permit’s office for an “inspection” in the coming week. Although aware that this situation isn’t either of your fault, Imo is far from pleased with this development.

“Fix this”, she orders and disappears into the kitchen.

There’s only one person who can help you out of this mess, but neither Kyungsoo nor you possess the emotional capacity to deal with him. 

“He’s our only option”, you deadpan.

With a heavy sigh, Kyungsoo dials Mark Lee.

***

Mouth stuffed with egg sandwich, Mark Lee garbles, “What do you want from me? It’s an inspection so let them come and - inspect.”

Imo’s taken off for the day and it’s just you and Kyungsoo trying to sort out the mess you weren’t entirely responsible for. 

“You said we could call you if we needed help with anything”, Kyungsoo reasons with Mark who’s now ogling at him as if he just got spoken to in an alien language.

“Yes, but I don’t see how I can be of help here?”

“Tell us anything you know about this new officer. Don’t leave anything out.” You’re nearly begging at this point and Mark Lee, as always, is reveling in your misery.

He relaxes in his seat, swirling the glass of watermelon juice, “You know you can’t buy your way out of this right? He’s an uptight bugger and you screwed up! Big time! All you had to do was give his brother-in-law a bottle of beer.”

“Oh, we’re sorry we didn’t have his family tree handy”, Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, “Besides, were just trying to abide by the rules - ”

The helplessness in Kyungsoo’s voice causes you to lose your cool at Mark. “Yah! Quit being cocky and just tell us everything you know!”

“Oh-oh feisty”, his mouth spreads into an annoying grin, “okay so he loves his wife, obviously, it’s why he’s doing this. Has an eleven year old daughter who is the apple of his eye. Erm, let’s see, he’s spent his teenage years in Japan and the country is all he’ll ever talk about. Piss him off and this inspection turns into a review and if things continue to spiral you’ll have your permit revoked. So be careful.” His eyes lock with yours making you shift uncomfortably in your seat.

“What are you planning to do with this information, anyway?”

“We don’t know just yet”, Kyungsoo starts clearing up the table, as usual, and Mark knows that his time is up.

“Dude”, he leans towards you, whisper-chortling, as Kyungsoo retires into the kitchen, “did you drive him out with a knife?”

Nodding, you grin gleefully.

“Fiery! You’re totally my boss’ type.” 

***

“So what are we going to do?” Rubbing your eyes and stifling a yawn, you ask Kyungsoo.

While the world sleeps, the market is awake. Buzzing with a contagious energy. Although you hate having to wake up this early, the moment you step into this space, you’re completely taken by its vigour and gusto for life. 

It’s nothing short of a celebration.

Chefs, big and small, passionately scour every nook and corner for the perfect herbs, veggies, and meats. You may not know each other closely or even by name but you feel part of a community - part of a family. True to character, you won’t ever stop whining about this routine with friends and family and occasionally with Kyungsoo, Baekhyun, and Imo but you know it in your heart of hearts, you wouldn’t skip sourcing for the world.

“So he’s spent his teenage years in Japan right?” Kyungsoo muses, lowering a crate of mudfish in the cart for today’s special, Chueotang.

“Let’s recreate his teenage years for him. Japanese dorm meals?” 

Kyungsoo stops abruptly, “That’s a thought!”

“We can set the menu today after closing.”

“How about a coffee now?” He asks, averting your gaze as a slight smile forms on his lips.

.

.

.

On the morning of the inspection, Kyungsoo sneezed. Once. Twice. And on the third strike he was sent home by Imo because “this is not a good look”. Or forced out of the restaurant - depends on who you ask. He whined a little, even shed a few tears but Imo steeled herself and drew him out, anyway.

Although the menu is simple, the concept is layered and robust. The exercise is, after all, being undertaken merely to impress the officer in question. Well equipped for the inspection, the restaurant’s closed for the day. 

This is nothing Baekhyun and you can’t manage but, obviously, Kyungsoo feels otherwise. He’s been calling to check in in intervals of five but seems like the medication’s finally kicked in and put him in a state of deep slumber. Good for him. And for you. 

Two hours until showtime.

Under your close supervision, Baekhyun is labouring over the fairly straightforward stuff: tako sausages, potato and macaroni salad and egg sandwiches while you’ve kicked off the recipe for rolled omelettes.

Egg mixture aside, you start the rice cooker, leave green tea to boil for salmon ochazuke while the frying pan’s heating up for yaki udon.

***

Once you’d gotten all the dishes down, done exactly the way instructed by Kyungsoo: rolled omelettes, yaki udon, tako sausage, potato and macaroni salad, egg sandwiches and salmon ochazuke, it was time for you to take on the simplest but the most provoking dish on the menu.

Neko Manma. Or, cat rice. 

“Ah, Dooly, shall I bring out the jar of bonito flakes?” Baekhyun prompts.

“The one Chef brought us this morning?”

He hums in response.

“I think we should use the store bought one instead.”

“But he’s worked on this recipe all week. You sure you wanna do that?”

“Positive.”

“He’ll flip out.”

“I’ll deal with it. We’re altering the recipe for Neko Manma, this ones too pretentious. Doesn’t sit right with me.”

“So, what do you want to do with it?” Baekhyun’s tone is wary and questioning. 

“Rice, soy sauce, store bought bonito flakes and just a faint drizzle of butter. Nice and clean.” You respond confidently. 

“Are you really sure?”

***

“Why are you here?” You hiss at Kyungsoo while Imo is outside, busy greeting the motley of high-headed officials, giving them a brief of the restaurant, herself, her team, and going over the licenses and documentation. 

Face flushed, Kyungsoo’s lips are swollen and his eyes are runny, puffy, and bloodshot. He’s clearly in the need for some rest.

“To see if everything’s in order.” His voice is hoarse.

He starts to closely examine the entrees laid out, a smile of approval gracing his lips until he stops short of cat rice.

“These bonito flakes -”

“I didn’t use the fresh ones. I thought -”

“There’s no miso soup?” 

“No, Chef, I reckoned -”

“No grilled fish? Are you being lazy?”

“Chef, no, I am not being lazy. The original recipe just didn’t feel right. So i changed it up a little -”

“Changed it up? That decision was not yours to make!”

“It’s just a side, it’s not going to matter so much!”

Absolutely livid, he runs a hand through his hair and laments. “If we weren’t this close to serving i would’ve dumped this into the bin because that’s where it belongs.”

“Chef, please”, your voice quivers, “let me explain! This was supposed to be the lightest dish on the menu. We ended up styling it with… overwhelming ingredients, so I -”

“I’m utterly confused! What on earth led you to believe you’re qualified enough to teach me? I’ve trained at a diner in Tokyo for two whole years. I know exactly what I’m doing here!”

Eyes brimming with tears, you glance over and Baekhyun who has ‘I told you so’ written all over his face. 

"Kyungsooyah? When did you come in? What’s going on here?”

Imo’s bewilderment cuts through the tension. 

“Sajangnim, I was feeling slightly better so I thought of dropping by to wish you luck." 

Courtesying, he quickly dashes out through the back door. 

***

The inspection has been revoked. Unofficially, atleast. The restaurant is to receive a written order in a week’s time. 

The officer was impressed to the extent of apologising for his brother-in-law’s behaviour. He even lauded Imo on teaching her staff to stick to the establishment’s principles which made you wonder if he was fully aware of the facts of the case: knife and all. 

He also mentioned how, as a student, he’d eat a bowl of Neko Manma before every exam because at the time, to him, anything else was unpalatable. 

And that, this was what he considered to be the perfect recipe. 

You go through the rest of the day as if sleepwalking. How stupid could you have been believe you were “on good terms” with Kyungsoo or that this was an equal and productive partnership. The fact remained that he still thought of you as someone frivolous: some air-headed moron who has no idea what she’s doing. 

Someone beneath him. 

You made an effort to appreciate this victory but the day had only left you with a bitter taste. Your mother had been right. You’ve always been too soft. Too trusting. Letting people in too easily and allowing them to walk all over you. 

Now, Kyungsoo’s always been like this: controlling, stubborn, absolutely thorough. He never deviates from his well laid out plans. But today was different. Today, you expected something out of him. You expected him to trust you. You expected him to understand your reasoning, to give you a chance. To comprehend the fact that you could have a mind of your own and that not everything has to be exactly by the book. 

You loathe yourself for expecting this out of him. 

Sailing rough seas together doesn’t bloom friendships. You were stupid to think of him as a friend while, in all these months, his opinion of you had remained the same. 

Contrary to the Gwangjang days, you’d long stopped wishing him gone. In some farthest corner of your heart you were even grateful that he chose to say. 

You’ve been so stupid.

.

.

.

Two months later

The kitchen has been fervent but hushed. 

After all this time, Baekhyun, Kyungsoo and you seem to have found a rhythm. You don’t need to verbally communicate to get through a workday. 

But, you used to. 

Sometimes unnecessarily even. Kyungsoo and you hardly saw eye to eye on most things but there would be some semblance of friendly workplace banter. He’d say a little something about a perfectly done piece of meat or a well seasoned soup. Baekhyun would take wickedly funny pot shots at some of the customers (to the utmost horror of Imo). Imo would sporadically push morsels of whatever was being prepared into your mouths. 

Baekhyun receiving feedback in the form of grunts has shut him up altogether. And the busyness of the restaurant has seemed to have blinkered Imo into not being able to perceive the tension between Kyungsoo and you.

It’s a dance to no music. 

Furtive glances. Measured smiles. Curt nods. Exceptional dishes. Decent earnings. 

That’s it.

Maybe that’s how it should’ve always been.

“Ready to go?” Baekhyun asks, dressed in a well fitted black shirt and slacks. 

You’re mopping the floor. Clearly not ready to go.

When you make this known with a sharp glare, Baekhyun giggles. 

Nothing good can come out of that impish smile of his. But before you can sink your claws into him and drag him back, he’s already chatting up Kyungsoo who’s fixing the chairs.

“Kyungsoo, you coming?” He says a little too loudly and you groan. But you know Kyungsoo all too well. He’s one to decline offers involving socialising with you (unless of course, the offer is put forth by his dearest Sajangnim). 

’You can do better than that’, you mouth to Baekhyun.

Incurious about Kyungsoo’s answer, you’re fully prepared to chomp Baekhyun’s ear off for inviting him.

“Sure”, Kyungsoo says plainly.

Sure?

Without taking the where-what-why route like normal people do? Just..sure?

“Great! We’re going out for drinks since it’s Dooly’s birthday today.”

“Oh. Happy birthday.”

“Thanks. But, Chef, you can’t come. I don’t want you there. I’m sor-”

Swallowing the apology crackling at the tip of your tongue, you dash into the kitchen, your periphery catching his lowered gaze and tight smile. 

Regularising the erratic thrumming of your heart with deep breaths, you shove the mop into the storage area, take off your apron and throw it in the laundry bag (which you were to deal with the next morning), straighten your outfit, fix your hair, dab some rosy tint onto your lips, throw your tote bag over your shoulder, run back out, grab Baekhyun by purposefully lodging your nails into his arms, and take off.

[jess-rewatches-prodigalson]

The Last Weekend (S2, E13)

It’s been a trip fam. Hopefully, it continues for a third season. Thanks for sticking with me this far. 

My time-stamped thoughts for this episode are below. As always I reference Malcolm’s mental health. A lot. So if that’s going to be a trigger for you, don’t keep reading.

SPOILERS AHEAD:

0:19 - That taxidermy is creepy af. 

0:25 - Ok. But like, this is amazing. Look at Malcolm. He’s confused,  annoyed, and a little pissed off but he doesn’t actually look scared. He just woke up in a strange place tied to a chair and the last thing he remembers is telling his father to run. He knows his serial killer father kidnapped him but he’s not scared because there’s a part of Malcolm that is so so desperate for Martin to love him. Malcolm is NOT okay. His reaction to being kidnapped by his serial killer father is evidence of that. This dude is not in a good mental place. I'm here for it. This is bad. 

0:40 - Groggy, annoyed, and sassy Malcolm is adorable.

0:51 - This is a woman who thinks not telling the NYPD about that Capshaw phone call killed her son. She doesn’t know where Malcolm is right now or if he’s alive. BUT Jessica knows Martin has Malcolm and therefore - Malcolm is not safe. The guilt and fear is oozing from Jessica and I want to hug her. :( <3

1:13 - Again. Malcolm is in danger. Why doesn’t Ainsley seem to be worried? At all?!? This girl’s lack of empathy is genuinely concerning. If my brother was abducted by our abusive father I would be a wreck. 

1:25 - “Don’t get cocky.” HA. What a great line. Although, it’s really sad to see how desperate Ainsley is for some attention from her mother. Although, I do love the contrast between this line and the line from 1x3: "You watch my reports?" "Not with the sound on". Jessica really is growing as a parent. I love that for her. 

1:31 - “Capshaw is claiming Malcolm was Dad’s accomplice.” WHY ISN'T AINSLEY UPSET ABOUT THIS. SHE’S ACTING LIKE IT’S JUST SOME JUICY GOSSIP. BE ANGRY GIRL. BE SCARED. BE UPSET. THIS IS YOUR BROTHER. At least Jessica is pissed and scared about it. 

1:46 - “Cruel eyes.” Has Capshaw ever looked at Malcolm? That boy has the sweetest eyes ever. They’re a gorgeous shade of blue, wide, and expressive. Never cruel. Often fearful. ALSO the fact that Capshaw looks at the window (where she knows Malcolm’s friends are standing) when she says this INFURIATES ME. I want this woman dead. She is the spawn of Satan and you can't change my mind. 

1:50 - The way Dani looks at Gil when he says, “You buying this?” is wonderful. This girl is scandalized at the idea that Gil might be buying Capshaw’s story. This girl is team Malcolm and I love her for it. She's so offended at the idea that Gil - the man who's known Malcolm since he was 10 years old - might think Malcolm is a bad guy. <3 <3 

1:52 - “Our boy’s crazy, but not that crazy.” <3 <3 <3 Every time JT calls Malcolm “our boy” or “our guy” my heart explodes. I love the evolution of their relationship so so so much. <3 Also JT is giving off major big brother vibes to Dani and Malcolm this episode and I LOVE IT. <3

1:54 - “Good. We all know she’s lying. Problem is we’re the only ones.” This whole scene. *CHEF’S KISS* Seriously, protective!Dani, protective!JT, and protective!Gil in the same scene?!? All going to bat for Malcolm? I’m in love. This is the found family content I’m here for. ALSO look at GIL. This man is so so pissed that someone is trying to paint his surrogate son as the bad guy. Gil is a good man but someone is threatening his family and that means he’s going to break his own rules. <3 I’m here for it. This is the kind of inner turmoil I subscribed to this show for. 

2:02 - "Good morning sleepyhead." I have thoughts. 1) If Martin truly cared about Malcolm why didn't he restrain Malcolm on one of those twin beds (where he could actually sleep) instead of tying him to a chair?!?! 2) Look at how hard Martin is trying to act like Malcolm's friend (not even a good friend). He's not acting like Malcolm's dad. A dad or a good friend wouldn't leave a guy who just suffered from an embolism alone and tied to a chair. They'd take him to a hospital, obviously that was out of the question here. So for the sake of this comparison, a good friend/dad would have put Malcolm on the bed, gotten some warm blankets for him, made sure water was close by, and stayed with him until he woke up - to you know, MAKE SURE HE'S STILL BREATHING?!?! BUT not Martin, this dude just waltzes into the room and delivers a mildly condescending yet cheery rendition of "good morning sleepyhead" almost as though Malcolm's unconscious state was a burden to Martin. Even though Malcolm was unconscious because MARTIN DRUGGED HIM (also not good!Dad behaviour). 

2:04 - "You drugged me?!?" This breaks my heart. After everything, Malcolm is still surprised (and rightfully annoyed) that his father drugged him. Malcolm knows that Martin is a bad man. He knows Martin has drugged him before. He knows he shouldn't trust Martin but after everything there's still a part of Malcolm desperate to believe that Martin loves him. PLUS one of the last memories Malcolm has before he woke up in this motel is of Martin saving his life. Malcolm was giving in to the "maybe Dad really does love me" mentality. It's heartbreaking and I want to give Malcolm a hug. 

2:23 - I find this whole exchange so upsetting yet interesting. Both Malcolm and Martin are being openly hostile to each other. Usually, Malcolm is civil to Martin but right now, Martin is NOT chained to a wall and Malcolm is acting like an argumentative and whiny teenager (and rightfully so but still not a safe move). Martin is matching Malcolm’s mood. Martin is engaging in Malcolm’s frustration with an off-putting amount of cheer. I honestly believe Martin is just ecstatic that he’s been given an opportunity to ‘be a father’ again. There’s also a part of me that is completely convinced that Martin was already hatching his plan to have Malcolm kill him. Why would he do that? My answer: 1) Martin doesn’t want to go back to prison, 2) To finally get revenge on Malcolm for turning him in in 1998, 3) he’s a predatory psychopath and he saw an opportunity to screw with someone, 4) Martin is pissed off that Malcolm keeps trying to distance himself from Martin. Martin see’s it as betrayal and he wants to make Malcolm suffer. 

2:25 - THIS. IS. AMAZING. The way Malcolm immediately panics and tries to escape Martin when the switchblade comes out is incredible. You can see Malcolm’s perspective shift. We actually see it flip back and forth all episode. Half the time, Malcolm is a little boy desperately trying to convince himself that Martin has changed and that Martin loves him. The other half of the time, Malcolm is a logical and educated adult who knows Martin is a dangerous killer who is trying to manipulate him. It’s such a compelling dichotomy.

 2:44 - “We are the victims here Malcolm.” I absolutely believe that Martin believes this statement. HOWEVER, I also think he’s using the situation to his advantage in an attempt to sway Malcolm’s trust in him. 

2:52 - “You’re in a pickle.” This infuriates me. Martin does NOT love or care about Malcolm. What Martin does love - is what Malcolm does for him. ie. Providing him a connection to the real world (visiting him in prison), giving him an outlet for his attention-seeking needs, giving him a plaything to manipulate. Martin views Malcolm as a pet NOT a person and NOT a son. That kills me. 

2:55 - “I need to call Gil.” <3 <3 This is absolutely beautiful and terrifyingly stupid. Beautiful because Malcolm is in trouble and his knee-jerk reaction is “Gil can help. I trust Gil. Gil loves me. He’ll listen. He’ll help.” <3 <3 So precious. It’s scary though because it’s no secret that Martin views Gil as a threat to his family. This will make Martin more determined to manipulate Malcolm. Because again, Martin views everything as possessions. He doesn’t actually love Malcolm, Ainsley, and Jessica. He loves the idea of them and what he can do with them. He doesn’t actually care about them though. He only cares about their wellbeing to the extent of how it will affect him. (SIDE NOTE: I’m honestly crushed that we didn’t get a proper Gil+Martin face off during this finale.)

2:58 - “Gil’s great and all.” This man speaketh from his ass. He hates Gil. This is some damn fine manipulation. He’s interaction with Malcolm in a way he knows Malcolm will have a positive reaction. I respect it. It also makes my blood boil (out of love for Malcolm).

3:05 - “Who would you believe?” This hurts. Look at how absolutely crushed Malcolm looks. Malcolm knows no one will believe him. Why would they? He’s the son of a serial killer with well documented mental health issues and well documented issues with rule-following. It’s common knowledge that he’s an intense and weird dude. And it’s all Martin’s fault. 

3:07 - “Can we talk?” I’m impressed. First, Martin complements the man he knows Malcolm respects more than anything. Then, he appeals to Malcolm’s insecurities and fears of being ‘The Surgeon’s son’. He does it all calmly, in a comforting tone of voice. This is manipulation at its finest. 

3:17 - “You look ridiculous.” This is Malcolm fully aware that Martin just tried to manipulate him. It still hurt Malcolm because those fears about no one believing him are completely rational and a very logical outcome of the scenario but at least Malcolm is aware of Martin’s game.

3:30 - “I’m Clare.” .....Clare = Claremont. Did Martin do that subconsciously or is he aware?  I can totally see him accidentally picking that name because after 20 years he’s begun to define himself as a part of the Claremont institution. He’s almost trying to maintain that link to the life he’s become accustom to. 

3:35 - “Too insane.” Holy shit. Malcolm sassing Martin is 1) hilarious but 2) super scary because I just keep waiting for Martin to snap and hurt Malcolm for his “disrespectful and ungrateful behaviour”. Malcolm really has no fear in this scene and I’m scared for what that means for his mental state. It’s not good. That much I know. 

3:45 - “I’m not your friend.” This broke my heart. Malcolm is so upset as he delivers this little outburst. He can see that Martin is trying to act like his friend instead of a loving father. It’s killing the little boy inside of Malcolm. It’s also frustrating for Malcolm because he wants so badly to do the right thing (turn Martin in) but he also just wants his dad to act like a real dad. 

3:55 - The fear in Malcolm’s eyes when Martin brings the knife back out. <3 Gorgeous. 

4:00 - The trepidation in Malcolm’s face as Martin cuts him loose. <3  ALSO, “I didn’t kill you. That’s gotta count for something.” why the hell should that count for something now? Martin tried to kill a 10 year old Malcolm. That should be the end. Any FATHER who tries to kill his 10 year old son (no matter what the kid may have done) is a garbage human and that child should never be told he has to forgive, trust, or have a relationship with his father. On some level Malcolm knows this BUT he’s also desperately trying to convince himself that Martin is a changed man. 

4:12 - WTF Ainsley? This scene genuinely makes me believe Ainsley has been somehow involved in this whole prison break scheme. Or at least, she’s been in contact with Martin since the escape. 

4:43 - “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Okay. Fine. Ainsley is finally showing a bit of fear here. But is it because of the Woodsman? Something tells me Martin has gotten into Ainsley’s head and Ainsely genuinely believes that Malcolm is safe with Martin. The Woodsman changes things though. Maybe the Woodsman was a variable Ainsley wasn’t expecting or didn’t plan with Martin. 

5:00 - “Why are we in Vermont?” First of all - there’s something precious about the way this line was delivered. Secondly, why is Malcolm eating? Doesn’t most food make him sick (1x1)? This is a high stress situation - presumably he’d be too nauseous/stressed to eat right now. 

5:15 - “That dream’s as dead as your 23 victims.” hahahaha ZING. This line actually hurts though. It’s not just Martin’s dream that’s dead. Malcolm’s is too. Presumably Malcolm has a fantasy somewhere in the back of his mind where he’s happily married with children. Hell, maybe his children visit their grandparents every weekend for Sunday brunch? But Malcolm probably doesn’t actually think he can have kids or a spouse because he’s terrified of what kind of a father and husband he’d be. That’s Martin’s fault. Martin has doomed Malcolm to avoid the deep, meaningful relationships in life that Malcolm clearly craves. 

5:25 - “I’m absolutely right” The anger in Malcolm’s voice is incredible and concerning. On one hand, it’s great that he’s being honest with Martin. He’s making Martin work for his trust and he’s communicating that Martin ruined certain aspects of Malcolm’s life. On the other hand, this boy has no sense of self-preservation. He’s provoking a predatory psychopath. He’s almost begging Martin to hurt him. I’m terrified at what that means for Malcolm’s mental health. 

5:35 - “Don’t you ever think it’s possible that I changed?” Look at Martin’s big stupid face. He doesn’t believe that he’s changed. He’s just trying to manipulate Malcolm. Martin doesn’t view Malcolm as a son. Just as a plaything. 

5:55 - “You want to find a missing woman. That’s your brilliant plan?” It’s an excellent plan. It’s a plan Martin knows Malcolm won’t be able to deny. Martin has observed Malcolm’s obsession with understanding serial killers for 23 years. Martin has watched Malcolm torture himself to save the victims of serial killers. Martin knows this is the one plan that will (at least temporarily) stop Malcolm from turning him in. Malcolm’s need to help other people is stronger than his need to help himself. So again, Martin is a shitty father. 

6:19 - “I worked the Woodsman case at the bureau for years.” Of course he did. $100 bucks says Martin knew that and he planned this out before his escape. Capshaw was an inconvenient hiccup in the plan but he was always going to kidnap Malcolm and try to manipulate Malcolm into becoming his partner in crime. 

6:42 - “Someone who’s not going to call Gil Arroyo the first chance he gets.” Damn. Martin feels threatened by Gil’s relationship with Malcolm. Which is why an escaped!Martin and Gil showdown would’ve made my year. 

6:46 - How convenient that Jeannie is from New York. 

6:52 - “But we could save her. Together.” Ugh. This breaks my heart. You can see that Malcolm knows Martin is manipulating him. You can also see that this is an offer Malcolm can’t deny. Saving people and finding/understanding killers is what keeps Malcolm sane. PLUS he desperately wants to spend time with the ‘nice’ version of his dad. The one he remembers from 1998. Malcolm is eating out of the palm of Martin’s hand and it’s so so so upsetting. 

7:01 - Why does Gary look so much like Deputy Crutchfield? It’s the moustache. 

7:10 - “This is my partner. Cameron.” UGh. I’m going to throw up. 1) Malcolm’s startled expression melts my heart. This boy does not want to be Martin’s partner in any sense of the word.  2) Was Martin implying that Cameron is Clare’s sexual partner? The hand around Malcolm’s shoulders made it feel that way to me. 

7:15 - Ugh. :( The way Malcolm looks at the hand on his shoulder. :( You can see how conflicted he feels. He likes the gentle, fatherly physical affection from Martin but he knows that Martin is a killer and this is an act. You can see that Malcolm knows this is all a hoax but you can also see how desperately Malcolm wants to believe in it. 

7:45 - OMG. This is a man who hasn’t been in public for a very long time. This is not socially acceptable behaviour and Malcolm looks so embarrassed and scared (that someone will recognize the serial killer making loud noises of pleasure over his pancakes). 

7:55 - I love that Malcolm isn’t eating. It aligns with Malcolm’s canonical eating problems. Kudos for the rare plot consistency.

8:13 - “I suppose I’m a little bisexual.” Ugh. Shut up Martin. You absolute moron. You’re not bisexual. You’re just a manipulative nutcase. It does make me wonder though, is this Martin’s way of trying to bond with Malcolm? Like maybe (whether it’s true or not) Martin thinks Malcolm might not be straight and he’s trying to have a father-son coming out of the closet moment? .....it sounds like a reach even in my head but here I am with this theory.

8:39 - The fact that Martin is such a verbal feminist throughout this show is so off putting to me. He’s a serial killer. He has no issues MURDERING people for FUN. Yet somehow it feels like I’m supposed to respect him more than the average man because he believes women are people with rights? Nah. It makes me hate him more because I don’t thinks he’s an actual feminist. I think he’s acting. He’s trying to appeal to what will make him seem more likeable. I think it’s a tactic he uses to soften Malcolm to his manipulation. 

8:48 - “I worked this case for years. Almost lost my mind over it.”........okay so I want more details on this. Did the FBI take him off the case? Did he stop working the case because he was fired? Did Gil watch Malcolm become consumed by the case and beg him to take himself off the case? 

8:52 - “I called every number at the FBI. You wanted nothing to do with me.” I hate Martin. He’s trying to blame Malcolm. He’s suggesting that more women could have been saved from the Woodsman if Malcolm hadn’t been ignoring Martin while he worked for the FBI. Martin is actually implying that the Woodsman could have been caught years ago if Malcolm wasn’t such a bad son. 

8:57 - “...such anger issues. Still do.” I’m going to punch him. I hate Martin. He’s mentally torturing our mental-fragile baby and he’s having fun doing it. Malcolm looks absolutely wrecked and my heart is shattering. Someone needs to give Malcolm a hug. Yesterday. 

8:59 - This moment has been giffed but damn is it worth pointing out again. The way Malcolm is self-soothing with his left hand while his right hand shakes is gorgeous. It really shows the depth of Malcolm’s inner conflict. I’m in love with this moment. Give Tom Payne an Emmy. Please.

9:13 - “There’s no time, my boy.” Every word that comes out of Martin’s mouth is calculated and manipulative. He has Malcolm exactly where he wants him and I hate it. 

10:05 - I’m 90% sure Martin already knows who the Woodsman is. He’s just playing dumb so he can screw with Malcolm’s head for longer.

10:17 - YES MALCOLM. Stand up to Martin. I love it. It also makes me worry about Malcolm’s mental health but I think we can all agree that Malcolm’s been on a downward spiral for months. At this point, our boy is not going to start improving his mental state until he hits rock bottom. 

10:19 - Martin actually looks shocked when Malcolm demands he earn his trust. Like it never occurred to him that Malcolm might be willing to rebuild the trust to begin with. 

10:30 - This whole scene between Gil and Ruiz is genuinely one of my top scenes of this episode (maybe even of the season). “The media will crucify him” “You might as well issue a shoot on sight order” “This isn’t a joke” “He has his demons but he’s not his father.” “I’ll stake my career on it.” This is one of the purest Papa!Gil scenes of the season and Malcolm isn’t even present. I love how Gil is literally willing to put his entire career on the line for Malcolm. I love how Gil is fighting for Malcolm in a public setting. Look at how the whole precinct watches the exchange. Gil is putting himself on the line in front of an entire precinct of people who respect him out of love for Malcolm. <3 <3 <3 

10:47 - “If he’s still alive.” If. Gil is terrified. Gil is losing hope. This isn’t like Watkins. Gil knows how desperately Malcolm wants Martin’s love and Gil knows that compromises Malcolm’s ability to profile his way out of a dangerous situation. Gil knows that Martin will kill Malcolm. Maybe not today, this week, or this year but it’s part of Martin’s plan. Gil knows that even if Martin doesn’t kill Malcolm - he’s capable of taking Malcolm away forever. Maybe by going on the run but maybe just because he tormented Malcolm to the point where Malcolm regresses to the scared 10-year old that Gil worked so hard to help. Gil knows Malcolm won’t survive that kind of trauma again. At least not mentally. Gil is terrified and I’m in awe. 

11:05 - “C’mon kid. Where the hell are you?” Hear that? It’s my heart shattering into a million pieces because this is the type of father Malcolm deserves. The fatherly concern Gil has for Malcolm is everything to me. 

11:20 - “Damn his daughter’s smoking.” hahahaha the irony. 

11:24 - Why am I so shocked and delighted that Malcolm has an NYPD ID? <3 It makes perfect sense that he’d have one but now I have these headcanons of Gil taking Malcolm around to the accounting office, and the administration offices to get him set up at the NYPD and my heart can’t handle how cute it is. 

12:12 - “You brought egg salad.” Ugh. These guys are so artificially in love and it grosses me out. 

12:54 - See what I mean? Crutchfield looks like Gary from the motel. I can’t unsee it. 

13:12 - Look another moment where Gil is CLEARLY thinking “this family I swear” hahahaha this man is so done with life today 

13:44 - “I know that look Jess.” <3 Aww....they’re practically married. <3 Jokes aside, this is amazing. Jessica respects Gil and she stops her plans when she notices the look on Gil’s face. She knows he’s not trying to control her - he’s trying to protect her and her children. He loves them and he’s trying to lighten her load. 

15:00 - “It’s your Lieutenant.” there’s a split second when you can see the hope, confusion, and fear clouding Malcolm’s face. For just a moment he thinks Gil is on the phone. Then the deputy says “Clare” and Malcolm’s expression transforms into one of annoyance and disgust. 

15:20 - “I didn’t have a credit card.” BAHAHAHAHAHA can we all just agree that talking about porn with your adult children is gross?

15:27 - This. Is. The. Worst. Thing. That. Could. Happen. The headline says “Son of Martin Whitly” and then later we find out Malcolm BRIGHT is on a wanted poster. Malcolm’s privacy from the press has been compromised. His life has been compromised. Nothing will ever be the same. This is bad for Malcolm’s already fragile mental health. His flimsy sense of safety has been forcibly removed and the public is going to crucify him again. Just for being Martin Whitly’s son. People are going to Google him. They’re going to find out he went to Harvard, that he was fired from the FBI, that he has mental health problems (although, Ainsley already exposed that). 

15:52 - Damn. It should be illegal for someone’s wanted picture to be that attractive (and I say that as an asexual).

16:00 - “You need a minute?” I love LOVE this interaction between JT and Dani. You can see that JT is a little unsure of how to talk to Dani because he loves her like a little sister and he knows she loves Bright. It’s adorable. <3 Big brother JT is my favourite JT. 

16:17 - “I like the guy.” UGH. I’m going to go sob in the corner. <3 <3 This line is AMAZING for two (2) reasons. 1) JT is admitting that he likes Malcolm. The bromance is real and I’m here for it. 2) This is JT subtly telling Dani that he knows she likes Bright as more than a friend and it’s not a bad thing. Malcolm isn’t a bad person and he can understand why she’s attracted to the annoying little dude. <3 

16:35 - Why is Ainsley working with Dani and JT? Does she actually want to find them? I still think she’s somehow involved in this. 

16:48 - “Did you steal this truck?!?” Good boy Malcolm. Don’t trust him. 

17:05 - Martin’s biggest mistake: he underestimated how devoted Malcolm is to his ‘mission’. He wasn’t able to manipulate and subdue Malcolm as quickly as he would’ve liked and now his plan is unravelling because Malcolm is snapping out of his ‘Martin might be good’ trance. 

17:19 - “I’m calling Gil. I should’ve known.” <3 I have no words. Just joy.

17:45 - “I do not want my son getting killed because of it.” LIES. Martin tried to kill Malcolm because of it when Malcolm was 10 years old. Martin didn’t care when Malcolm was bullied, shunned, and literally locked in a closet because of Martin. Martin didn’t care that the weight of his crimes destroyed his son’s childhood and continued mental health. Martin. Doesn’t. Care. The problem? Malcolm so so desperately wants to believe that Martin cares about him. You can convince yourself of almost anything if you want to badly enough. 

18:13 - Annnnnd Martin’s plan is back on. He’s lied his way back into Malcolm’s tentative good graces and the manipulation is still in full force. 

18:18 - The parallel that Martin is going on a stakeout with Malcolm right now and the fact that Gil used to take Malcolm on stakeouts as a kid is overwhelming. Do you think Martin knew about those stakeouts? Is this Martin’s way of trying to prove to Malcolm that he’s a better father than Gil?

18:33 - I DO NOT LIKE THIS. I DO NOT LIKE THIS. I DO NOT LIKE THIS. Capshaw is crazy and I don’t like her alone with my queen Jessica. #stressed

18:37 - “Believe me, I understand.” Ugh. Someone (preferably Gil) hug Jessica. This woman has been repressing her emotions for too long. :( 

18:56 - Ooooooooohhhhhh Capshaw just made the biggest mistake of her life. This woman is actively trying to convince the world that Malcolm is just like Martin Whitly and then she said as much to his mother’s FACE. I’m here for the lady fight. Say what you want, but vicious girl fights are so much more entertaining than dudes who just hit each other. 

19:29 - Bitch. Jessica regularly mixes pills with alcohol. Research your victim, moron. This isn’t going to work. 

19:56 - “You. Always you.” .....isn’t that what Malcolm said to Eve? Ew. ALSO the way Martin dismisses Malcolm’s admittance is very upsetting. If he wanted to prove that he’s a good father he should really pretend to care. At least a little. 

20:25 - As far as Martin is concerned, this is a victory. His son trusts him enough to let him out of the car - unsupervised. Martin’s plan is working (as far as Martin knows anyways. Malcolm is still definitely conflicted).

20:43 - I love that Malcolm keeps calling for “Martin”. Not “Dad”. Not “Dr. Whitly” (that would be bad on account of the manhunt). Just “Martin”. This goes back to Malcolm not knowing who “Martin” is to him He’s still trying to figure it out. Hell, he only resorts to calling him “Clare” when he thinks it’s the only way Martin will get back in the truck. 

21:15 - “What the hell is he doing?” EXCELLENT question. Seriously - did this moron not recognize the Surgeon and his son? There’s a literal manhunt for these two right now. It’s all over the news. It was playing on the precinct TV only a few hours ago. WHY DID CRUTCHFIELD NOT CALL ANYONE ABOUT THEIR IDENTITIES?!? Isn’t it protocol to call the NYPD about this or a hotline? I’m sure it said as much on the wanted flyers and the news.

22:05 - I’m honestly so stressed that Jessica is tipsy and drugged right now. 

22:35 - “Back then I wasn’t a good judge of character. Now I can sniff them out a mile away.” UGH. This honestly gives me PTSD. My mom says the same thing. She married an abusive man and now she claims she’s self-aware and is an excellent judge of character (spoiler alert: she’s not). My mom is about as good at it as Jessica. I mean, anyone remember Endicott? Or Eve? 

23:06 - “What was that Jessie?” OMG. I hate Capshaw more with each passing moment. 

23:16. - GIL. OH THANK GOD. JESSICA IS GOING TO BE OKAY. EVERYTHING IS GOING TO BE OKAY. JESSICA DIDN’T GO LONE RANGER ON THIS. 

23:34 - Is that a picture of baby Malcolm on the mantle? <3 So cute. <3

24:10 - This bitch is going to jail for a looooonnnng time. Gil Arroyo and Jessica Whitly just heard her admit to torturing their son. She’s going to suffer. I’m happy about it.

24:28 - “Daddy. Daddy.” My heart is breaking. This is a real insecurity that Jessica has about Malcolm. She feels like she’s not enough for Malcolm. That’s why he keeps visiting Martin. That’s why Malcolm was so attached to Gil and Jackie as a kid (and now). Jessica feels inadequate as a mother. That probably contributes to how she emotionally neglects Ainsley. She’s afraid of trying and failing to be enough for both of her children. So she denies herself the possibility of failure by throwing the match. 

25:07 - Jessica and Malcolm studying Krav Maga together. Headcannon accepted. My heart swells at the thought. 

26:12 - Anyone else think it’s interesting that the picture of baby Ainsley was smashed over Jessica’s head. It just feels too convenient. It has to be some sort of hidden message. Does it mean that Ainsley’s the one who is going to destroy the family? Does it mean Ainsley’s working with Capshaw (or Martin)? It has to mean something. Right?!?

26:34 - “I meant for her sake.” I love Gil. He’s not threatened by the fact that Jessica is a badass. Hell, he thinks it hot. Weak men are intimidated by strong women. Gil’s a keeper. 

26:46 - WHUMP. <3

27:15 - This wasn’t part of Martin’s plan but I do genuinely think Martin’s not nearly as scared as he’s acting. 

27:38 - Why doesn’t JT introduce Ainsley? Because she’s not law enforcement and she’s not technically supposed to be there?

27:56 - Damn. Ainsley is desperate for attention from anyone. I bet you that’s why she became a reporter. People have to listen to you when your face is on their TV reporting the news. 

29:41 - JT is triggered. :( This is PTSD. The last time a gun was pointed at him it was extremely traumatic “I’m a father. I’m a good man and I am not a threat to you.” :( Someone hug him. 

29:57 - “But she is.” <3 DAMN. Badass!Dani for the win. <3 

30:34 - “Predatory psychopath married an emotionally compromised enabler.” Is this a comment on Jessica and Martin’s marriage? Jessica didn’t consciously enable Martin but her rich lifestyle and the things she was willing to overlook to maintain appearances definitely gave Martin more leeway than he should have had. 

30:48 - “You haven’t been in my league for decades.” Yep. Now Martin wants to kill Don. He didn’t need Malcolm to beg him to hurt Don. Martin was already chomping at the bit. 

32:00 - “NO.” Malcolm’s not his father. Even now he doesn’t want anyone to get hurt. He tries to protect everyone from physical harm. Even serial killers. That’s a good man. 

32:30 - I hated this speech from Ainsley. It felt....artificial? I just can’t see Ainsley actually believing that her Mother is light, kind, and good when she clearly resents her Mother for paying so much attention to Malcolm and neglecting her. This whole speech just felt really out of character to me. It felt like Ainsley was pulling a Malcolm - saying whatever she needed to get the suspect to confess to the truth. 

33:43 - “I can’t. Not anymore.” Bullshit. Martin clearly wants to hurt this guy. He just refuses to do it until Malcolm begs. Also, it feels like the show is trying to suggest that this is Malcolm giving into the ‘darkness’ that Ainsley was referring to. I disagree. This is typical Malcolm - consumed by the need to save a victim and solve the case. This is the guy who chopped off a guy’s hand to save his life, the guy who tried to infiltrate a cult to save Andi, the guy who tried climbed out of an elevator shaft to arrest a serial killer. Malcolm just doesn’t care about himself and his mental health isn’t doing so great. That doesn’t mean he’s becoming a killer. He’s not ‘going dark’.

34:40 - “Please. I’m asking as your son.” This wrecked me. 1) Malcolm looks so utterly destroyed here. Anguish is all over his face. You can see him grasping at straws because he’s so desperate to save Jeannie. He’s willing to compromise the idea that his Dad may have changed. Malcolm knows Martin hasn’t changed but asking him to do this will make it real and kill Malcolm’s desperate fantasy of a bio-dad who loves him. 2) Martin is a piece of shit. You can see how utterly delighted he is when Malcolm begs and refers to himself as Martin’s son. Martin views Malcolm as a possession and it delights him to hear Malcolm confirm that possession (”I’m asking as you son.”)

35:00 - Okay. His hand isn’t shaking but look at him. You can’t tell me he’s enjoying this. He looks terrified, guilty, nauseous and I don’t think it’s because he’s suddenly realizing that he and Martin are the same. I think it’s because he just compromised his moral code to save a total stranger. He somehow found it in himself to favour a Jeannie over Don. Yes - Don is a serial killer. Yes - Jeannie is his victim. So, yeah - picking Jeannie over Don is logical but does that make it right? That’s what Malcolm is struggling with. That AND the fact that he just asked his Dad to hurt someone - the screaming is probably bringing back suppressed childhood PTSD from that camping trip in the woods. 

35:13 - Another crazy theory for why Malcolm’s hand isn’t shaking. Have you ever been so so so scared/stressed/anxious that you felt nothing? Seriously - it’s like your brain just shuts down everything but life support and your body goes on autopilot. I honestly think that could be happening to Malcolm as a way to cope with the stress. 

35:20 - This is Martin pretending to be tormented and I HATE HIM FOR IT. He’s playing with our broken boy and I despise him for it. Hasn’t Malcolm suffered enough?!?!

36:04 - Something tells me that Don’s testimony will be vital to clearing Malcolm’s name next season (yes, I’m in complete denial that this show is cancelled). 

37:03 - This hurts. Martin is comforting Jeannie and it’s bringing back childhood memories for Malcolm. Memories of a Dad who used to read him bedtime stories and tuck him into bed at night. Memories that are tainted with the knowledge that Martin is a serial killer. Look at how sad Malcolm is. He’s fully accepting that Martin hasn’t changed and that he never will. He’s letting go of the desperate hope that Martin might love him the way he remembers as a child. He’s remembering that the love he experienced as a child was all a hoax on Martin’s part to begin with. 

37:07 - WHEN DID MALCOLM GET A PHONE??!?! WTF. 

37:14 - “The bad man is gone now.” Except he’s not. He’s always been here. He didn’t change. He just tried to be cleverer than his son. It failed. 

37:52 - Do you know what would have made this scene even more powerful? A flashback to the phone call baby Malcolm made to 911 in 1998. 

38:08 - NOW Martin is Dr.Whitly because Malcolm has fully accepted that Martin = The Surgeon = Dr. Whitly. They’re all the same and they all suck.

38:33 - “Maybe I need to work on that.” <3 <3 Yes, get sober sweetheart. Your dependance on alcohol and pills is not healthy. 

38:45 - This Gillica moment will live forever in my heart. I swear I’ve never shipped to people so hard while fully wanting them to be my parents. 

38:51 - OMG. Of fucking course it’s Edrisa. <3 hahahahaha

39:29 - The fact that Malcolm gave Jeannie his jacket is so cute to me. Just more proof that Malcolm’s a good guy. 

39:57 - Looks like the Claremont cardio program is lacking. (I’m so mean).

40:08 - I love this whole exchange between Martin and Malcolm. 1) I fully believe that Martin is genuinely upset that Malcolm turned him in (the dude doesn’t want to go back to prison - fair enough). 2) Malcolm just looks so broken as he listens to his father rant. You can see how bad Malcolm feels for turning his own father over to the cops. Again. The guilt is consuming Malcolm. Very bad for his flimsy mental health. 

40:22 - “You made me become him again.” Okay. Stay in your lane Martin. Let’s not victim blame here. You’re a monster. You’ve been manipulating Malcolm all day and you’re still at it. You wanted to hurt Don but you want to hurt Malcolm more. 

41:11 - “This world isn’t for you.” My heart is shattering. You can hear the pain in Malcolm’s voice. This isn’t a conversation anyone should have to have with a parents. Especially not when you’re already wracked with guilt and mental health issues that you’re not coping with.

41:20 - “Dad. Listen to me. I’m trying to save you.” THIS. THIS is the show. For two years we’ve watched Malcolm try to empathize and understand killers because he’s desperate to save his father and alleviate his guilt for turning Martin in. 

42:00 - “I was a good father. But you, you were never a good son.” ...............this is bad. Shit. This. Is. Bad. This is going to torment Malcolm for the rest of his life. He is going to constantly question “should I have been nicer to Ainsley? Should I have been more obedient? Should I have shown more of an interest in medicine? Would that have stopped that from killing? Did he kill because I wasn’t a good enough son?” Logically Malcolm will know none of that is true but it won’t matter because pain isn’t always logical. 

42:26 - 1) Damn. This family is stabby. 2) holy shit holy shit holy shit. 3) I’m shook. I fully expected it but I’m still shook. It was self defence but that won’t matter. Sure, there’s a 90% chance that Malcolm won’t suffer legally for this but there’s a 100% chance this is going to ruin Malcolm’s life. The guilt is going to swallow him whole. His mental health is going. to reach an all time low. The media will crucify him. No one will look at him the same. He won’t be able to go anywhere without people making assumptions about him. He’s going to be transported back to 1998 - this time with more trauma. It’s not going to be good (and I’m ecstatic at the thought of it because I’m an emotional whump whore). 

42:40 - His hand’s not shaking. I honestly think it’s because he’s in shock because Malcolm still looks like hell. He’s dissociating. If this triggers a mute!Malcolm episode I’m going to be the most excited person in the world. 

42:46 - “I was right. We’re the same.” This was Martin’s master plan. He knew once he escaped Claremont there was no going back. He didn’t want to go back to prison so he found a way to get himself killed (I’m assuming this kills Martin because that’s a lot of blood). No only did he plan to either 1) be on the run forever or 2) die trying  - he made sure that he could torment Malcolm as much as possible along the way. This sentence is going to destroy Malcolm. That sentence has been his greatest fear for 23 years. Now he thinks it’s true. It doesn’t matter that he stabbed out of self-defence. Fear isn’t logical. This is a big problem. 

43:12 - “Bright? What did you do?!?” ..................It’s been 3 days and I still can’t handle this sentence. You can see the shock on Dani’s face and the fear in Malcolm’s eyes. He looks like a cornered animal. He thinks she’s going to arrest him - he knows she has to. He thinks he just ruined his chances at a happy ending with Dani. He’s realizing all at once just how bad his life is about to get. AND DANI - she doesn’t believe he’s a killer but that doesn’t mean she’s not scared for him. The dude looks like he’s in the middle of a mental breakdown plus the legal issues - it’s not going to be a good day. 

I CAN’T BELIEVE THE SEASON ENDED LIKE THIS. I HATE IT. I LOVE IT. I’M CONFLICTED. I HAVE SO MANY FEELINGS. I WANT CLOSURE AND THIS JUST GAVE ME MORE QUESTIONS. UGH. THANK GOD FOR AO3. 

I sincerely hope another network picks us up for a third season - I’ll be back if they do. If not - thanks for hanging out with me. I’ve had fun and this show will always have home in my heart. 

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

The Best Things ~ J.V. (Part 6)

A/n: Things boutta get bad so like... I'm sorry. Practically nothing but angst this part won't lie. Side note: I know I don't actually have a lot of Jerome x reader content yet, but I wanted to show the reader's descent into madness before they're officially a thing. I promise you it's coming, and very soon :)

Word Count: 4300+

Playlist

MASTERLIST

Y/n shot to his feet, only for the guards behind him to draw their guns. Alfred held up a hand. "Is he alive?" Y/n demanded. He might have lost his mind just a tad, but Bruce was still one of the very few things Y/n Wayne cared about and no one was about to put that boy in danger.

"Yes," Alfred soothed. "I said he WAS kidnapped. We have him back now." Y/n calmed and Alfred seemed to almost smile, as if seeing the amount Y/n cared was very reassuring. That tracked. "He's been brainwashed or something though, and I've gotten special permission from Commissioner Bullock himself to let you out to help me bring him back. If we play this right, we might even get you released permanently. We can figure this whole thing out. You can come back to us. We can be a family again." Y/n thought about that. Seeing Bruce again. His brother meant everything to him. He cared about Alfred too, honestly. The man had been a good father figure to both of them, and a good friend even when their father was alive. Y/n would have a real home, without killing or chaos. He'd be working for the good guys.

Right?

He thought about that word. Good guys. Cops were supposed to be good guys, weren't they? But he'd gotten locked up in Arkham just for being associated with Jerome, and then gotten the shit kicked out of him when he'd simply been himself. He hadn't killed anyone, or hurt anyone. He'd shown affection to another man and had nearly gotten beat to death for it. He'd leave Arkham, the only place he'd ever really been accepted for being gay. Maybe not by that one guard, but everyone else seemed to not care since no one cared about him at all, except maybe Jerome. Oh god Jerome. Y/n would have to leave him. And Harleen as well. The new friend who really got him and had his back the best she could in a place where her words practically had as much affect as Y/n's did. He had a boyfriend and a potential best friend and room to be free... except that he wasn't free.

Why was this so hard?

"Y/n," Alfred interrupted, eyes wide and pleading. "Bruce needs you."

The last time Alfred had said that, Bruce had just witnessed their parents' murders. Y/n pushed down the boy he used to be that was fighting to resurface, trying to find at least a. Middle between then and now. They were so different... there was suddenly a battle again himself, and he was losing.

Finally, he just shut it all down. Everything else could wait for another time. "When can we leave?" Alfred smiled at his words, but Y/n suddenly had a terrible feeling in his gut. Why did he get the sense that everything was about to get really, really bad again?

-

"Penguins alive?" Y/n relaxed in relief.

Alfred frowned. "Yeah. Um-" He swallowed. "You've kind of really been involved with all the worst people recently, eh?"

Y/n actually scoffed at that, his lips curling in amusement. "I've met far worse people than Oswald, Alfred." He looked the butler in the face. "You might not like to hear this, but that redhead everyone in town hates so much? He wasn't the one who did this to me." Y/n motioned to his own face. "But the officer who did, did it for no other reason than because I'm gay." He let that settle for a second. Alfred seemed shaken a bit. It seemed to finally be dawning on him just what Y/n had been going through since his parents had died. "Now, enough about me." They'd finally pulled up to the GCPD building. "Let's get inside. Like you said: Bruce needs us."

Y/n had been required to be handcuffed, though he hadn't been put in a straight jacket and had been allowed to change into normal clothes as not to upset Bruce upon seeing him. He was still beat up pretty badly though, and had developed a limp as the adrenaline wore off and as his beating really sunk in. Alfred had to keep him handcuffed as they walked in, and the whole place went quite. It was becoming a habit that Y/n could walk into any room and immediately bring silence with him as he did so. All of Gotham had gotten to the point that they couldn't exactly make an opinion on Y/n Wayne. How did someone like him get born into a family like he had been, and turn out like this?

Gay and insane.

It had been in the newspaper. Someone, somewhere had gotten hold of the news that Y/n Wayne was gay and it had been released everywhere. Y/n had read the article a while ago. It's what had prompted Jerome to finally be more affectionate around other inmates, instead of just at night when they were in their cell together. People might give Y/n shit for being into dudes, but no one was going to mess with Jerome. He'd put his neck out for Y/n... It was becoming clear that few others would do the same. Maybe it was the insanity.

Y/n was brought to a room that was a different color than the walls at Arkham. The color outside had been overwhelming after seeing muted versions from a distance through windows that now, the dull color was kind of refreshing. Inside the room was Bruce, but he looked different. Y/n couldn't imagine the last time his younger brother had worn a turtle neck. His father used to try to get the boys to wear them all the time, but, especially in their youth, the boys had hated them and eventually their father had given up. Bruce hadn't worn one since they were both seven, when he used to just do whatever their dad told him to. And since when did he wear anything other than dark blue or black? Y/n found all his usual jokes about Bruce being a casual emo slip from his mind. He didn't know how to approach this new boy. He didn't know him.

To be fair, Bruce didn't really know him either.

"Hello, brother," Y/n greeted, unsure of how to go about this after all that stood between them.

Bruce narrowed his eyes. "Why are you here?"

Y/n sat down, scooting over as Alfred joined him with a second chair. "Just checking in," Y/n responded slowly. "Alfred told me about what happened. Getting kidnapped. Been there, it's not too fun."

Bruce rolled his eyes."You got kidnapped by a brainless psychopath. I got taken by someone who was trying to help me."

Y/n scoffed. "Help you? Bruce look at you. You're not yourself."

"I'm better," Bruce shot back. Y/n went quiet at that, looking at Alfred with raised eyebrows.

Alfred ignored the look. "Now we can talk all day, but what really matters is that you tell me what you meant when you said someone else was coming to Gotham. I thought that old fellow was the leader of the Council of the Owls, who else would be coming?"

An expression rested on Bruce's face. Far too complacent and calm. The Bruce Y/n was familiar with had the tendency to brood- this Bruce seemed to have no tendencies at all. No cares or anything. It was disturbing to say the least. "I want you both to leave."

"Well that ain't gonna happen, is it mate?" Alfred immediately matched. The butler crossed his arms. "You can't get rid of either of us that easy. Your brother here found time around being locked up to be here for you. Not much is getting us out of here."

"Especially with the city in chaos," Y/n cut in. "Not even your pals in the GCPD will be here to drag us away. Might as well end it now."

When Bruce didn't respond, Alfred leaned forward. "You have to remember who you are."

That seemed to set Bruce off. "I know who I am." Y/n scoffed. "I have a destiny," the younger boy continued, his volume raising as Y/n's mocking noise irritated him.

"Now you listen to me." Alfred had gotten very quiet. "That man that wanted you to detonate that bomb, whatever he promised you- freedom from pain, power - none of it, none of it was real. I want you to remember what is real."

"I know what's real!" Bruce yelled over the end of Alfred's sentence. Y/n tried not to smile. He really did. Bruce glowered as his older brother grinned at him. Mocked him. "You come in here and mock me? You're the crazy one. Don't you dare laugh at me like I'm the one who's lost my mind! I got vengeance for our parents' murder. That's real, and better than running around like an idiot with a lunatic murder!"

"You know NOTHING about lunacy," Y/n interrupted. "I've seen crazy. I've seen grown men beat on teenage boys and call it power. I've seen cops chase bad guys to predictable set ups and act like it wasn't the most obvious thing in the world. I've seen so called heroes save to be said innocent people, and then those evil little shits turn on those same heroes the first chance they get. I've seen love get ignored and then twisted. I've seen people laugh at pain and enjoy the suffering of others and then call themselves sane because that person who was dying was a bad guy, so who cares, right? I've seen people define good and bad like it's a dictionary entry and then immediately break the rules they lay down and still try to pass off as the victim of the story. THAT was real Bruce." Alfred put a hand on Y/n's shoulder, and it was only then when he realized he was crying. "I've seen stories about how evil and corrupt men are and how much women are victims, and then looked at Gotham and seen women in charge while I, a child, was raped by a woman again and again who was only using me for power." He cleared his throat. "Not to say that other people don't suffer, I just mean that everything is a grey area. What's real is bullshit and what's fake is seemingly the most honest option of those presented. Not everything is as clear as it pretends to be, Bruce. I'm supposed to be the crazy one. I was supposed to be the one who failed. I was supposed to be the screw up, but we're both in handcuffs and you were the one who was trying to ruin the lives of thousands of people just minding their own business. What was my crime, huh? Trying to be happy? Trying to be true to myself?" Y/n scoffed. "If only mom and dad could see you now."

"YOU SHUT UP!" Bruce screeched.

"Both of you calm down," Alfred snapped. "I was there when your parents had both of you. I took care of your mum and was there as you grew up. You used to be inseparable. No matter what anyone else did or said or thought, the Wayne brothers always had each others' backs. Good and bad is clear. Everyone is capable of it. Everyone does it. No one is innocent of evil, even in small amounts. Both of you have been idiots." He took a breath. "But you're also both my idiots." He looked between the two boys. "You're both my boys, even if I haven't been there for both of you." He looked at Y/n as he said that. "You want to talk about what's real? What's good?" He looked at bruce. "What's real is when you were sick as a kid, and your mum used to sit up with you every night and read to you when you fell asleep. That's real. Or when you were seven and you took that rowboat out and you got lost in that storm. Me and your dad were out, shouting and screaming, losing our minds, and when your dad found you, how he cried. That's real." He looked at Y/n. "When you were twelve and you came to your parents in tears because you couldn't understand why all the girls your age were talking about kissing you and you couldn't stop thinking about kissing the other boys. Your mum calmed you down and your dad told me that no matter what, they'd love you and you thought I didn't know but I did- all this time, I knew." Y/n felt his chest tighten. He felt terrible. "That was good, Y/n." Alfred gripping Y/n's shoulder. "When everyone came to your dad talking bad about you and they thought he'd laugh along, but he put an end to it immediately because you were still his son and he loved you. He was proud of you. When the news people came after you for secrets and they were nosey and pushy. When they crowded and stalked you because they'd caught wind that you had a dark secret and everyone wanted to know what the oldest Wayne son failure was hiding, and your dad nearly lost his mind on all of them, if your mum hadn't stepped in and stopped it cordially. THAT. Was. Good." Alfred returned to looking at Bruce, keeping his hand on Y/n's shoulder. "Your parents died in that alley four years ago, and maybe that man took away the pain of that night." This time he looked between the two boys. "Life has been hard since then, but there is no life, no love, without pain." He squeezed Y/n's shoulder and when the boy nodded, he returned his attention to Bruce. Bruce was the main focus right now, but Y/n had gotten the message. "He could not take away the love that your mum and dad gave you, that you still have in you- that you still have-" his voice broke as he reached over, pressing his hand against Bruce's chest, right over where his heart would be. "Right here." His hand finally dropped after a pause as he continued, "The same love I have for you. For both of you." His face flecked with. "I love you, Maser Bruce. Master Y/n. I would do anything for you. I would die for you. You must-" he cut off, focusing on Bruce. Y/n kept thinking Alfred was done focusing on him, but then Alfred would look at him again, and he hadn't felt so cared for or looked after since his parents had died. It all felt silly now... "You have to find that love again."

Every word hit home. Alfred was speaking to Bruce, but it was becoming more and more obvious that he was talking to Y/n too. Y/n reached over, his hand resting over Bruce's. "We both have to," he whispered softly. "You don't have to do it alone. I know it's been hard and chaotic, but I'm still your brother, Bruce. You're still my brother. And no matter what, you always have me."

Alfred leaned forward. "Come back to us, Master Bruce." There was a commotion outside and Alfred sighed before telling Y/n, "I'll be right back," and then leaving.

Bruce looked to his brother. "Did you mean what you said? I can depend on you?" Y/n nodded immediately. "Then get me out of here." Y/n went to argue but Bruce interrupted. "You can come with me and make sure I'm safe. But I HAVE to do this. I need to finish it. I need to see it through. I need to know if this really is my destiny. I need to understand-" he cut off, choked with emotion. But Y/n knew what he meant. The same thing that had driven him to follow Jerome Valeska of all people. That had gotten him to follow Penguin and ditch his family to begin with. There are just some things you have to do. So Y/n looked around, found a pen, and Bruce pick the locks on both of their cuffs before they booked it, side by side and headed for... something. Bruce hadn't cued Y/n into the plan this far.

In all honesty, it was just nice being by Bruce's side again.

They made their way through the city streets of Gotham at night until they got to a red door with the word "Yuyan" on the front. Bruce went in. Y/n followed. Inside was the statue of what looked like some kind of demon. There was a lot going on. Bruce didn't hesitate- he stepped up and began analyzing it. Y/n was still taking it in when he pulled something and the wall opened up, revealing a hidden passage. The brothers went inside, Bruce having to take Y/n's hand to get the older boy to follow him now.

The two walked down a staircase and through a tunnel. It seemed eery. Weirdly light and far too silent and empty. When people appeared, Y/n regretted his lament about there not being anyone around- they immediately attacked him. "No." Bruce said firmly. They stopped. Y/n looked at his brother with shock. Bruce's expression remained calm. Y/n's would be attackers simply pointed Bruce onward, making way for him to follow their direction.

Y/n hadn't been this scared in a long time. Surely he wasn't in danger. This was Bruce he was talking about. Golden Boy Bruce Wayne who used to cry when they were really little and Y/n would step on a bug. Who shut down after their parents died because he loved them so much that seeing their murder changed him... except that his heart of gold kept him from corrupting like Y/n had. He was driven by justice and refused to let up until evil was destroyed. Bruce Wayne was a hero.

And yet, when Y/n looked at the back of Bruce's head now, he didn't see his younger brother. He saw a man in a child's body. He saw a straight back that was well trained and perfectly postured. He saw clothes Bruce would never wear and a silence Bruce would prefer not to bear, especially with Y/n around to talk his ear off. He saw Bruce leading them down a tunnel of doom, being completely docile after someone tried to kill him. After he almost poisoned maybe hundreds of people with just the press of a button. After, of all people, he had chosen some random old dude weirdo over Alfred and almost killed one of two family members he still had left.

Very suddenly, Y/n realized that he hadn't realized how bad Bruce was. How dumb it was to follow after him right now. And he was more scared than he'd ever been. More scared than even when he looked in the face of a cold blooded, sadistic murderer who had completely lost his mind and only saw an endless world of things to fascinate him. More scared when the doors would close and all he saw was red lips curled in a devious smile as the one person he trusted the most took advantage of him. More scared than when that stupid guard had locked him in that room and he had really thought he was going to get beaten to death for being gay.

Bruce pushed two double doors open with each hand. They creaked as they opened slowly, revealing a room with a green pool in the middle. Bruce leaned over and Y/n stepped forward, reaching out to stop him. Then he felt a pain at the back of his head and everything went black.

-

Y/n woke up alone.

It was dark, but it only took him a few seconds to remember everything and realize where he was. He looked around- the pool was still there. Otherwise, the room was empty. Y/n groaned as he sat up, looking around again for signs of those people that had attacked him earlier. When he still saw no one, he stood and began walking back the way he'd come. It was even scarier now that he was alone. "Bruce?" He whispered into the empty hallway. He jumped at every noise, resulting in him eventually misstepping and tripping. He would have face planted if his scrambling abilities hadn't improved recently due to all the running away from cops and other crazies alike in his days by Oswald's side. Thankfully he didn't fall because, as he was noticing while trying to get his feet under him, there was blood on the floor.

Oh my god there was blood on the floor.

He sucked in a breath, beginning to look around again. "BRUCE?" His heart picked up and he felt the back of his eyes burning with tears. "Bru-" his shoulder hit a wall and he screamed. Shaking his head to calm himself, he pressed his lips together and retraced his path that he'd taken with Bruce to get in here. Eventually it lead him outside. Weirdly enough, the wall was open again. Which meant that he didn't have to figure out how this side of the trick worked... but it also meant he wasn't alone.

The night air outside was cool, the sun rising in the distance. He looked down at himself- he was filthy. He took a second to think. To remember. The last thing that had been clear to him was that he was absolutely terrified of Bruce.

That's right. Bruce wasn't... right anymore. Well, that meant he couldn't go home. He also couldn't just walk back into Arkham. They might think he'd done something if he came back, dirty and hysterical, without Alfred. So he went to the GCPD department instead, because where the else was he going to go?

He was inside for maybe a second before he saw a familiar face. His eyes went wide and his heart nearly stopped- in his vulnerable state, of course it would be the guard that almost beat him to death that would be there to greet him. The man smirked, tilting his head. "There you are. We were wondering when you'd find your way back." He approached the teenage boy, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Someone else approached. Y/n almost melted in relief to see Harvey Bullock. "What's going on here?" His eyes laded on Y/n. "What... I thought you were in Arkham."

"He was," the officer responded. Y/n had already forgotten his name from when Harleen had said it before. "Alfred Pennyworth came and got him out for the day. Needed him for some Wayne business. I'll be taking him back now."

Harvey looked confused by that. "Why? We were already debating letting him go. Now he's out, there's no reason to immediately put him back in." The guard seemed horrified by that idea. Harvey put his hands on his waist. "He didn't do anything wrong."

"Do you know what this boy is?" Y/n's heart sunk. "He's a homosexual."

Harvey's eyebrows rose. At first Y/n thought it was in surprise, but then he said, "So what?"

The guard looked stunned. "He needs help, Bullock. He was canoodling with Jerome Valeska in Arkham. In public. Like there's nothing wrong with that."

Now Harvey was surprised. Y/n swallowed his emotions and met the older cop's gaze evenly, sticking his chin up. Harvey sighed. Y/n didn't even have to say anything- the old man just seemed to... immediately understand. "He turned to someone who accepted him in a world of people who hate him." It was Y/n's turn to be surprised. "That's not punishable."

The guard scoffed. "Son, have you ever killed anyone before?" Y/n looked away. He thought about the first time he'd ever killed someone, and then thought about all the many times after that he'd done it himself or helped. Another experience he'd picked up while hanging with Oswald. "The thing won't even deny it. And he's proud to be with that redheaded psycho. There's something wrong with him, Commissioner. He needs to be detained and get some help."

Harvey and Y/n both knew that was not the reason the guard wanted Y/n back in Arkham. The two men looked at each other, both put down at the fact that they couldn't stop anything happening. Maybe Y/n should have lied. Maybe he should be fighting. Unfortunately, he'd just lost his little brother and he had no idea what kind of shape Alfred was in. Currently, he had to assume that Alfred was either dead or would be soon, if Bruce could help it.

The guard tugged Y/n's arm and they were headed back outside toward his car. "Thought you were gonna get away from me that easily, did you?" The guard growled under his breath, leaning close to Y/n so the Wayne boy would be the only one to hear. "I finally have a reason to get at you, you little shit. Things are only gonna get worse for you from here. Now I can say you've killed people. No one will stop me from knocking you now."

Y/n looked at the city one more time before he was shoved into the car. The guard pulled out a pair of cuffs and put him in them. He looked at the city the whole time. The entire ride, he took in every inch of it. Every dirty corner. Every dirty human. Every inch of the buildings- no matter how close, far, tall or small they were. If he could see it, he took it in as much as he could. Above everything else, he took in the sunrise.

Maybe it was the fact that Y/n might never see it again outside of Arkham, but it wasn't overwhelming this time.

It was beautiful.

[imperial-martian]

Can Berlín feel romantic and / or platonic love [lcdp/money heist]?

For the last four or so days I have been doing a lot of research on Berlín and psychopaths. Berlín is my favorite character in the series and as a fanfiction writer I want to do my best to understand and have a good balance to my writing for any specific character. I’ve had a friend send me links to their research on psychopaths (which Berlín is characterized as on his wiki and in the series). She concluded the following points:

• A “distempered psychopath” tends to fly into rages that can resemble epileptic fits. These people may also often have an extremely strong sex drive. They crave excitement and have a low tolerance for boredom, and are drawn to dangerous sports and activities.This subtype of psychopaths are "hotheads", predominantly males, and are most likely to be aggressive and violent, frequently flying into rages.

• A “charismatic psychopath” is often a charming liar and fast talker who can manipulate others to part with anything — including their lives.

• A “primary psychopath” usually gets his or her defining characteristics as a result of a combination of genes, brain connections, and environment. This type of person doesn't typically respond to punishment, fear, stress, or disapproval, and often lacks empathy. Most primary psychopaths mimic emotions and understand them cognitively, but do not feel them. Primary psychopaths are unemotional, callous, manipulative, do not take risks, and experience little to no fear and anxiety. They have no guilt or remorse. They have a very strong association with antisocial personality disorder and narcissistic personality disorder.

• A “secondary psychopath” (sociopath) gets to be this way mostly as a result of his or her environment. Severe abuse at a young age can play a particularly strong role in the development of a sociopath. Unlike a primary psychopath, a secondary psychopath or sociopath can feel stress or guilt and is generally capable of empathy. He or she may also be prone to anxiety. Secondary psychopaths are emotionally unstable, although their traits are more associated with criminal behaviour. They’re rash, impulsive, emotional, anxious, hostile, aggressive and self-destructive. However, unlike the primary psychopath, they’re disorganised and associated with risky decision-making. They have the capacity to experience some degree of fear and remorse and to empathise effectively, but due to their emotional disturbance, these emotions are often covered up by their hostility and aggression.

From what I’ve shown her she says that he’s a charismatic or primary psychopath (and at first thought he was a sociopath). From the research I’ve done to learn whether psychopaths feel love (romantically and platonically, while different than what neurotypical people feel) I’ve gotten very varying answers from psychopaths and neurotypical people have answered, some psychopaths say they do, some say they don’t, and the same with neurotypical people as well.

I’d like to know what people’s thoughts on Berlín is, focusing on love, because it seems that he expresses love towards his half-brother (The Professor), Palermo, and even Tatiana (in some form). Personally, I’d like to know what people’s views on romantic love for Berlín is, since I’m a romance writer, but I’d also love to know what people think for platonic love regarding him.

In the many fandoms I am in, and of all the characters I’ve loved and favorited(some damaged, some hiding emotions, and none normal) I’ve never done so much study and research to understand a character like I have Berlín. Typically, it takes me a single night to get their character (sometimes even over time I discover more) but I don’t even have a base to start writing for Berlín since I can’t yet understand the love he feels (if he does) to write about him in a romantic setting with a character romantically.

[arpmemething2]

Sherlock starter sentences

Send one for my muse’s reaction

"I wrote my own version of the Nativity when I was a child, "The Hungry Donkey". It was a bit gory, but if you're going to put a baby in a manger you're asking for trouble."

"I was just playing the game."

"I can't make bricks without clay."

"I play the violin when I'm thinking and sometime I don't talk for days on end. Would that bother you?"

"You were thinking.  It's annoying."

"Oh, hell! What does that matter? So we go round the Sun! If we went round the Moon, or round and round the garden like a teddy bear, it wouldn’t make any difference."

"Not important? It's primary school stuff! How can you not know that?"

"I'm not a hero, I'm a high-functioning sociopath!  Merry Christmas!"

"What's the point in being clever if you can't prove it?"

"And exactly how many times did he fall out the window?"

"There was once a merchant in the famous market at Baghdad. One day he saw a stranger looking at him in surprise and he knew that the stranger was Death. Pale and trembling, the merchant fled the marketplace and made his way many, many miles to the city of Samarra, for there he was sure Death could not find him. But when at last he came to Samarra, the merchant saw, waiting for him, the grim figure of Death. “Very well,” said the merchant. “I give in. I am yours. But tell me, why did you look surprised when you saw me this morning in Baghdad?”, “Because,” said Death, “I had an appointment with you tonight – in Samarra.”"

"And we're having quite a lot of sex."

"You are a living, breathing man. You've lived a life; you have a past."

"Look at them. They all care so much. Do you ever wonder if there's something wrong with us?"

"I've always been able to keep myself distant. Divorce myself from feelings. But you see, body's betraying me. Interesting, yes? Emotions... grit on the lens, the fly in the ointment."

"Look, this is a six. There's no point in my leaving the flat for anything less than a seven, we agreed. Now go back, show me the grass."

"What a couple of lightweights! You couldn’t even make it to closing time!"

"She provides, shall we say, "recreational scolding" to those who enjoy that sort of thing and are prepared to pay for it."

"Sex doesn't alarm me."

"No idea why people think you’re incapable of human emotion."

"Careful! Some of those skulls are over two hundred thousand years old! Have a bit of respect!"

"You ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool. People might talk."

"Down girl."

"Don't talk out loud.  You lower the IQ of the whole street."

"That's not what people normally say."

"Should I answer chronologically or alphabetically?"

"I've got a better question: is everyone I've ever met a psychopath?"

"Kill you? Um, no. Don't be obvious. I mean, I'm gonna kill you anyway, someday. I don't want to rush it, though. I'm saving it up for something special. No no no no no, if you don't stop prying... I'll burn you. I will burn... the heart out of you."

"No, I just said that in one of your stories."

"You think he lost a lot of money? Suicide is common among city boys."

"He will outlive God trying to have the last word."

"Listen, what I said before, I meant it. I don't have friends; I've just got one."

"I'm not dead.  Let's have dinner."

"So he'll have to make a speech in front of people. There will be actual people there actually listening."

"Don't make people into heroes. Heroes don't exist, and if they did, I wouldn't be one of them."

"Stop talking, it makes me aware of your existence."

"This is my game face.  And the game is on."

"Oh, I may be on the side of the angels... but don't think for one second that I am one of them."

"We solve crimes. I blog about it, and he forgets his pants. I wouldn't hold out too much hope."

“Do you always carry handcuffs?”

"When I say run … run!"

"He’s planned something, something long-term. Something that would take effect if he never made it off that rooftop alive. Posthumous revenge. No, better than that – posthumous game."

"Intuitions are not to be ignored. They represent data processed too fast for the conscious mind to comprehend."

"You can't arrest a jellyfish."

"Brainy is the new sexy."

"Taking your own life. Interesting expression - taking it from who? Once it's over, it's not you who'll miss it. Your own death is something that happens to everybody else. Your life is not your own. Keep your hands off it."

"Oh, I'm sure something will turn up. A nice murder. That'll cheer you up."

"So what if there are right? They are always right, it's boring."

"We all have a past. Ghosts. They are the shadows that define our every sunny day."

"Is it nice not being me? It must be so relaxing."

"Once the idea exists, it cannot be killed."

"It's not a pleasant thought. I have this terrible feeling from time to time that we might all just be human."

"Friends protect people."

I'm not implying anything. I'm sure she came round for a nice little chat, and just happened to stay over. And I assume she scrubbed your floors, going by the state of her knees."

"The universe is rarely so lazy."

"Everybody dies. It’s the one thing human beings can be relied upon to do."

"I gave you my number. I thought you might call"

"Really hope you don't have a baby in here."

"How did he recognize her from.. not her face?"

"I'm suddenly realizing I probably owe you some sort of an apology."

"I always hear "punch me in the face" when you're speaking, but it's usually subtext."

"People don’t really go to heaven when they die. They’re taken to a special room and burned."

"We've got a serial killer on our hands. Love those, there's always something to look forward to."

"Dear God.  What is it like in your funny little brains?  It must be so boring."

"Fear is wisdom in the face of danger. It is nothing to be ashamed of."

"To a great mind, nothing is little."

"I was thinking more about our imminent and daring escape."

"Fine. We'll start with the riding crop."

"Pass me your revolver. I have a sudden need to use it."

"No, no, NO! Of course he's not the boy's father! Look at the turn-ups on his jeans!"

"Dear Lord, I have never been so impatient to be attacked by a murderous ghost...!"

"What I'm trying to say is that, if there's anything I can do, anything you need, anything at all, you can have me.…"

"Look at those cheekbones. I could cut myself slapping that face. Would you like me to try?"

"I would have you right here on this desk until you begged for mercy, twice"

"Are you wearing any pants?"

"When he was dying, he was always cheerful. He was lovely. Except when he thought that no one could see. I saw him once. He looked sad."

"Does yours rub off too?"

"I'm in shock. Look, I've got a blanket!"

"Get out.  I need to go to my mind palace."

"The world is woven from billions of lives, every strand crossing every other. What we call premonition is just movement of the web. If you could attenuate to every strand of quivering data, the future would be entirely calculable. As inevitable as mathematics."

"You should put that on a t-shirt."

"I'm soooo changeable. It is a weakness with me, but to be fair to myself, it is my only weakness."

"Every fairy tale needs a good old-fashioned villain. You need me or you're nothing — because we're just alike, you and I. Except you're boring. You're on the side of the angels."

"Just once, can you two behave like grown-ups?"

"Sentiment is a chemical defect found on the losing side."

"None of the cabs would take me."

"Also, your loss would break my heart."

"I can open any door, anywhere with a few tiny lines of computer code. No such thing as a private bank account now. All are mine. No such thing as secrecy. I OWN secrecy. Nuclear codes? I could blow up NATO in alphabetical order. In a world of locked rooms, the man with the key is king. And honey, you should see me in a crown."

"And you read my writing upside down. You see what I mean?"

"London. It’s like a great cesspool into which all kinds of criminals, agents and drifters are irresistibly drained. Sometimes it’s not a question of who, it’s a question of who knows."

"You've gone all croaky, you getting a cold?"

"All lives end. All hearts are broken. Caring is not an advantage"

"I hope you'll be very happy. You deserve it. After all, not all people you fall for can turn out to be sociopaths."

"Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?"

"...Murder. Sorry, did I say murder? I meant to say marriage. But, you know, they're quite similar procedures when you think about it. The participants tend to know each other and it's over when one of them's dead."

"That's clever.  Is it clever?  Why is it clever?"

"Interesting thing a tuxedo. Lends distinction to friends and anonymity to waiters."

"If I wasn't everything you think I am, everything that I think I am... would you still want to help me?"

[schweeeppess]

Do you have any angsty fic recommendations? I feel like ripping my heart out for no reason and figured you'd have some good recommendations

OH BOY DO I EVER!

(Dick & Tim & Jason) theyve broken me by Princex_N

Retraumatization is a conscious or unconscious reminder of past trauma that results in a re-experiencing of the initial trauma event. It can be triggered by a situation, an attitude or expression, or by certain environments that replicate the dynamics (loss of power/control/safety) of the original trauma. Being forced to talk about your trauma before you're mentally ready to do so can also be a trigger.

Jason agrees to talk to Bruce about the circumstances of his death and resurrection in Batman and Red Hood #20, at serious detriment to himself.

If you mention angsty fics, you literally cannot just not mention this one. I cried so hard reading this, it’s not funny. It breaks your heart into shards then stabs you with them, and bruh. I just. 1000/10

(the batboys in general) When the Stakes are Higher by keeptogethernow

There's a new serial killer in Gotham, and he's managing to evade even Batman's attempts to catch him. The psychopath's inclinations have Bruce on edge, but Jason's not as worried...until it becomes personal. But when even the world's greatest detective is at a loss, will their efforts be enough to prevent another tragedy in the Wayne family?

Not as angsty as the last rec, like at all! It’s very suspenseful though, and there is quite some angst, but it’s not as bad as “theyve broken me”.

(Dick & his brothers) the man with guns for eyes by 8sword

“Don’t blame him, little D. He gave me a choice.”

"He always makes it a choice," Damian mutters. "If you’re the one who makes the decision, it’s your fault if it’s the wrong one.”

(Dick comes back from the dead.)

Oooooh, boy, this one had me crying hard in just the beginning! It hurts! Very, very bad!

(Tim & Jason, mostly) New Alphabet by AllumetteRouge (RedRaidingHood)

Tim had hoped to have the manor (and Alfred’s cooking) for himself today. Only, there’s a fourteen-year-old Jason and a whole lot of trouble waiting for him.

Again, not as bad as the last one, but it is angsty--like real angsty--at certain points.

(Tim & Dick & Bruce, mostly) (You) Forgot About Where it All Began by Qais

Bruce is back from his jaunt through time, but his sons are not okay. Jason is aggrieved on Tim's behalf, and he isn't going to stay quiet about it.

This one makes me cry, too, and I just. It’s so emotional, at least to me.

(Jason & Tim) Tightrope by Acxa_Kogane for Kyra_Marmora

Time passed with baited breath as the gentle wind swept through the void, lightly pressing against Tim's outstretched fingers and playing with his hair. 

The two who stood at the beginning of the rope never took their eyes away from the one that was floating above the shadows.

Then, the careful steps began to slow, and suddenly stopped altogether.

I CRIED SO FUCKING HARD AT THIS ONE, JUST LIKE THE FIRST AND THIRD RECS. I WAS LISTENING TO THIS SONG AND WAS JUST SOBBING. HHHHHHHHHHHHH.

(Jason & Tim, mostly) Stages of Deterioration by aradian_nights

After Bruce finds Jason Todd, catatonic and traumatized, miraculously alive on the streets of Gotham, Tim, Dick, and Barbara attempt to fix their broken brother. AU for Invasion.

Horribly angsty at many points, this one gets ranked right up there with recs 1, 3, and 6. 1000/10 breaks my heart and actually made me cry a little during certain chapters.

(Damian and Tim & Jason) It's Not Poetic by the_authors_exploits

There is laughter in the air, and tears in their eyes; because it's all a ploy, a facade, and people fall for it all the time. Until it becomes too much to hide and the laughter fades and they can't ignore it anymore. PLEASE READ THE TAGS

I will absolutely never not recommend this fic, unless the tags are triggers for you. Otherwise I adore this fic--it is definitely one of my sheer favorites--and highly recommend it.

(Jason & everybody) The Calling by LananiA3O

Three years after escaping from prison, after almost complete radio silence, Jason heeds a call for assistance from Batman. When he disobeys a direct command in order to save more lives, old issues arise again, and Jason finally has enough. It is time to set the record straight...

This one will run you over, stomp on you, slam a piano on you, then stab you straight in the heart just to make sure you’re crushed and dead from angst. You will cry. You will grieve. I recommend it.

(Dick & Jason) these things define you by Miisakee

Jason and Dick go to fight a gang and it all goes downhill from there.

Another one of the lesser angsty fics! It is still very, very angsty, so be reassured you just might cry. Maybe. I can’t remember if I did.

(Bruce & Jason) Morning Sun by Lilfunny for drakefeathers

Between his death, resurrection and subsequent replacement, Jason Todd just really needs a hug. Or maybe he just needs his dad.

AHHHHH THIS ONE I DID CRY FOR! SO EMOTIONAL! BROKE MY HEART AND HIT ME IN THE GUT WITH A CROWBAR. I CRIED. MOST CERTAINLY RECOMMEND.

(Jason & Tim) It's Not That Funny by Ionaperidot

“I’m sorry I killed you, Jay," Tim says. "Please don’t be mad at me.”

Jason sighs, raising his head slowly. “You are not handling the Pit nearly as well as I thought you were.”

After Tim kills the Joker, Bruce sends him across the country with his parents, where he'll be safe. After Jason finds out, he tracks him down to visit. It's all going pretty well until Ra's al Ghul gets involved.

Okay, you really really need to be careful with this fic. There is very unhealthy coping mechanisms, several suicides, several murders, Jason lets Tim cut and burn him so he doesn’t do it to himself... It can be extremely triggering, so I strongly suggest you be careful before deciding to read this. It’s so utterly heart shattering. It makes you so very sad.

(Dick & everybody) If Night Falls in Your Heart by WithTheKeyIsKing

Dick never knew how to tell his family about what Tarantula and Mirage did to him, so he simply didn't.

That solution works, until it doesn't.

Hoo, boy, this was written by a friend of mine and she did not pull her punches as she wrote this, I’ll tell you that. I fucking cried. This one hurt and it hurt bad. This fic and the next rec both deal with Dick’s rape, so be advised.

(Dick & Jason) When I Needed You by firefright

On the night Blockbuster dies, Dick goes through one of the worst experiences of his life. But this time he's not alone, this time someone comes to save him. Someone familiar, though he doesn't figure that part out until much later.

Grahhh, I hurt so bad when I read this, and every time I come back to it I ache. It’s so heart-wrenching and emotional and I just--hhhhhhh. Recommend! If it’s not triggering, of course.

I’M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG! I WAS MAKING THE LIST THEN MY PAGE REFRESHED AND I LOST EVERYTHING SO I HAD TO START ALL OVER AGAIN AND I DIED A LITTLE BUT HERE IT IS! HERE YOU GO NONNIE! I’M SORRY THERE’S ONLY LIKE A FEW RECS BUT IT’S ALL I COULD REALLY FIND.

I HOPE YOU ENJOY!

[the-walking-memelords]

Allegiances: Epilogue

Prologue | 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

Series is rated M

Word Count: 2342

Clementine enjoys the better days that follow.

Read it on Ao3!

Read it on Wattpad!

Thus started the beginning of the healing process for everyone in the school. It took days for Mitch to convince Brody that the raiders weren't ever coming back, and Violet's right eye was completely blinded and the left never really healed, leaving Tennessee to guide her until she became used to her new condition. Clementine herself would be lying if she said she never shed any tears over the loss of her leg, but having AJ and Louis by her side, she knew she wouldn’t have to struggle alone anymore.

Louis was quick to move the headmaster’s gramophone to her room, allowing the music to keep her company in the moments they couldn’t. Although, Clementine still longed to hear Louis’ piano so occasionally he would steal her away on nights she couldn’t sleep and play her any song she requested until her eyes finally shut. Her most frequent request was the song he wrote for her, which she couldn’t help but hum along to.

Once Clementine received an old pair of crutches that had been tucked away inside the nurse’s office closet, she was up and moving as soon as she was strong enough to hold her own weight. Louis almost regretted giving them to her so early into her recovery, but he couldn't stand watching her feel so helpless. 

It was a couple of weeks before they all ended up at the picnic table together for dinner. Two of the tables had been pushed together so that they could all sit in the same place. Clementine set next to Louis with AJ across from them. The air was sweet with the smell of Omar’s stew as they all gathered around.

Clementine held her breath as Violet sat in the spot next to her. The two hadn’t spoken much since the Delta, but if the blonde chose to sit next to her, that was a good sign, right? 

“Clementine?” She spoke softly, looking at her with her one pale green eye.

“There was something I wanted to ask you, but, I wanted to wait until you were up and about.”

Clementine felt Louis’ hand cover her’s under the table.

“Which one of you lovebirds made the first move?”

Oh my god.

Clementine snorted in both relief and mild embarrassment.

“Me, of course.”

“HA!” Violet slammed her fist on the table, making the bowls jump slightly.

“Mitch, you owe me half your meals for a week!”

“Goddammit.” The boy sighed as he reluctantly poured part of his stew into her bowl.

“Last time I count on Louis for anything.”

“Hey, I was about to.” Louis pointed at him with his spoon.

“Hold on, you guys were betting on us?” Clementine asked in surprise as she felt her cheeks turn pink.

Motherfuckers.

“Thought it would make watching you two dance around your feelings a little more interesting.” Mitch shrugged.

“Ended up also making it a lot more infuriating in the process.” The blonde said as she took a bite from her nearly overflowing bowl.

“But I believed in you.”

“I knew it would be Clem.” Brody piped but from her spot next to Mitch. 

“Watching Louis just follow her around like a lost puppy made it obvious he was hopeless.”

“Hey.” Louis sassed.

“The only hopeless I was was hopelessly in love.”

Louis quickly wrapped his arm around Clementine, planting a kiss on her cheek resulting in a mix of chuckles and eye-rolls from the others around them. Clementine glared at Mitch as her face burned. Between him and Brody, she knew who she’d bet on. It was funny that Brody called Louis out for following Clem around, and was somehow unaware that Mitch did practically the same thing.

“Ick.” AJ said with a grossed-out expression followed by giggles from Tenn and Willy.

---

The sky later became painted in pinks and purples as Clementine unwind on the steps of the admin building, leaving her crutches aside. AJ leaned half asleep against her left, all tuckered out from running around with his friends, while Louis wrapped his arm around her shoulder on her right. Clementine took in a long, deep breath of the crisp night air as she hugged her little family a little tighter.

“I wish we could’ve found this place sooner” Clementine smiled.

“The way I showed up is the only thing I would change.”

“Don’t you dare go feeling guilty about all that horseshit with the Delta.” Louis said bluntly.

“Lilly was a psychopath, and now she’s dead and gone, and we have this. This moment right here. That's what counts.”

This moment was one she wanted to stay in forever and ever. A moment without the constant fear. Fear of herself and what she was capable of. Fear of her future or lack thereof. Fear for the little boy she loved to death. Fear of hurting the first person she let into her heart in a long time.

All of it was gone. Every breath was free and sweet instead of suffocating. She walked with her head held high instead of weighed down by the past that threatened to define her.

All of the bloodstains and tear tracks washed away in the warm rain, never to touch her again.

Free.

“I’m sorry you can’t walk anymore, Clem.” AJ said as he looked down guiltily, scratching the weather-worn concrete of the steps.

“Not for real at least.”

“AJ, you saved my life.” She leaned over to catch his eye. Clementine couldn’t stand any guilt on that kid’s shoulders

“I told you to leave me behind, and if you had listened to me, I’d be dead. Don’t ever be sorry for that.”

AJ still couldn't help it. He knew it made her sad and Clem shouldn’t have to be sad anymore. There had to be some way to make it up to her. This place had a lot of books in it, maybe there was one that would help him build her a new foot to cheer her up.

He was really happy that Clem found this place. The food was good and the people were fun, but most of all no one could get them out here. All there was left were walkers and walkers were dumb. Clem couldn't fight like before but she could still shoot a gun or throw a knife. AJ would just have to make sure she didn’t get bit again. In fact, AJ wasn’t going to let any of them get bit. Not Clem, not Louis, not any of them. If this was what having a family was like, he wanted to protect it.

“We went through hell to get where we are.” Louis said, looking up at the cotton candy clouds floating by in the wind.

“But I’d never change what we have now. We, and especially I, owe you more than we could ever repay. Thank you, for everything”

Louis knew he’d do whatever it took to protect his new family. He’d give them everything he had to offer, even if it wasn’t much. He’d help her raise AJ and try to be a better father than the one he had, and he would never ever hurt them as he did with his old family. He would fight for them, live for them, and even die for them if it was ever necessary. All in a heartbeat.

But for now, he would sit and enjoy every moment, not daring to waste a single one.

Clementine let out a small laugh with tears pricking in her eyes as she held them a little closer.

“You’re welcome, for everything.”

---

Her time at Ericson's continued with a welcomed quiet that lasted for days, then weeks, then months. Every day lived to the fullest alongside her newfound family. Although nightmares still came to haunt her every now and again, Louis' warm embrace was always enough to calm her heart and mind and lull her back into a sweeter slumber. 

Clementine was enjoying her time of rest, but AJ wasn't done working. It took some help from Willy and Tenn, but by the time Clementine's stump had healed enough they had produced her a new foot. or at least... the first version in a collection of prosthetics until they could build one that was both comfortable and functional enough for frequent use.

Along with a wooden leg, AJ also secured a new weapon for Louis. Although it wasn’t much more than another ornately carved chair leg adorned with barbed wire, Louis was overjoyed by the gift he affectionately named “Chairles the Second.” 

---

The seasons changed until the autumn leaves painted the forest floor once again as Clementine and Louis walked the trails through the hunting grounds in search of their next meal. She wore an oversized red shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and her shoulder-length hair tied in a small ponytail over her left shoulder. Clementine hiked along with a slight limp from her prosthetic, but nothing she couldn’t manage. 

“How’s the leg been treating you since the last repair?” Louis asked with a tone of concern. He knew how much mobility meant to her.

“Better thanks to those screws we got from Layla the last time the caravan came through.” Clementine thought fondly of their new travelling friends.

They met Layla’s caravan group not long after their war with the Delta. The kids were wary at first but quickly found this group of travelling traders meant them no harm. This group had a specific route they took that passed through the areas of several communities big and small with the goal of spreading the resources. Their normal route passed just outside the old safe zone every month or so and upon contact, were happy to add Ericson’s to their list of trade spots.

“We should stock up a bit extra. Layla will be back through here in a week or so and fresh game is always in high demand.” Clementine hoped maybe she could find some more pencil crayons for AJ and Tenn. 

The haul was good on this day, the first few traps held a few fat hares that would certainly make the others very happy. Clementine decided to take her bow and move on ahead. It was an idea Louis wasn’t thrilled about but trusted her with as he moved along to continue checking the traps.

Her wooden leg didn’t move as carefully as her real one did. Her steps were louder, clumsier, and weighed on her stealth ability. It was something Clem was determined to improve, which is why she often elected to bow hunt alone.

The rustle of a nearby bush caught her ear as she drew an arrow from her quiver, sneaking closer and talking aim at the rabbit peaking out.

A sudden yelp and a thud from back down the path spooked the rabbit, causing it to speed off back into the brush. Not that Clementine cared, she had already dropped her weapon as she ran down the path as fast as her prosthetic would carry her.

“Louis?” She called, searching the area for any sign of him.

Clementine froze as she finally saw him, both Chairles II and the previously caught rabbits lay in the dirt below him. 

She bit her lip hard as she watched her pouting boyfriend hanging by his foot, caught in his own snare.

“Don’t you dare lau-” Louis didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence before Clementine burst into a fit of laughter at his predicament.

“Who’s the ‘Bunny’ now?” She practically yelled between waves of giggles, reminding him of the comment he made when their roles were reversed.

Clementine crossed her arms over her ribs as they ached with her laughs. 

“Please just let me down.” He practically begged but Clementine recognized his smirk that told her he was plotting something.

“And what if I don’t?” She teased, walking closer to him until they were only a few inches apart, their faces level. 

“You ever seen ‘Spiderman’?”

Clementine didn’t have a chance to ask what he meant before he gently grabbed her cheeks and pulled her in for a kiss. They both immediately sank into it, slightly moving their mouths with each other. When they finally broke Clementine was left breathless with her face on fire. All she could do was stare at the goofy grin on his freckled face while her mind tried to process what just happened.

That was smooth as fuck, what the hell?

“Clem…?” He laughed nervously, seeing her just stare at him.

“I’m getting dizzy.”

“Oh- right.” Clementine snapped out of it as she hooked one arm under his, using the other to cut the rope allowing him to fall without hitting his head.

Louis untied the snare from his ankle, resetting it before turning back to his girlfriend. He smiled on the sight of her flustered face, poking her cheekbone as they began to head back.

“What was that for?” She asked.

“You’re cute when you’re blushing.”

“Dork.” She rolled her eyes as she limped ahead.

“Am I still your favourite?” Louis called as he adjusted the rabbit slung over his shoulder.

“Always.”

---

It was late but the yard was still bustling with activity of the more relaxing variety. 

Aasim chased Willy across the courtyard while Ruby rolled her eyes and laughed. 

Mitch was telling old stories to Brody of his early days at Ericson’s pranking the teachers he didn’t like. The redhead was listening intently as she sat close to him.

Omar was tending to a few potted herbs he had growing, smiling proudly at the small leafy plants.

Tennessee and AJ described in great detail each of their drawings to Violet as they sat at the picnic table together.

Clementine couldn’t help but smile at it all as she leaned into the fluffy lining of Louis’ coat. It was a sight that still got her emotional even a year later, and she knew it would probably continue to do so for the rest of her life.

This was truly, her Happily Ever After.

[willsherjohnkhan]

The Beginning of Something

***

Chapter 1: After the Call

***

MOLLY'S FLAT - KITCHEN

Abruptly the line went dead.

Molly stood there totally stunned for a moment or two. This was quickly replaced by a flash of anger that was enough to snap her out of her stupor.

'Damn him! Damn Sherlock bloody Holmes and his manipulative ways!' And before she could give herself time to think things through clearly she began dialling the detectives mobile number. She was determined to give him a few choice words. And once finished, she would be the one to end the call, leaving him hanging.

"The number you have called has been disconnected." An automated message informed her. "Please check the number and try again."

Molly frowned. That was odd.

So she tried John's number. It began to ring but then went to voicemail.

"Hi, sorry I can't take your call right now. Please leave your name and number and I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

Molly disconnected the call. She then made a third call, this time to Detective Lestrade. To her immense relief Greg answered almost immediately. "Molly."

"Hi Greg. Sorry to bother you. I was just wondering if Sherlock and John were with you?"

"No Molly, they're not." There was a tension in the affable detectives tone that put her on edge.

All Molly's anger evaporated to be instantly replaced by concern. "Where are they?"

"I wish I knew," Greg responded warily, before adding. "You know Sherlock's flat was blown up?"

"What! When?"

"Earlier this morning. Apparently Sherlock and John managed to escape by jumping through the windows, while Mycroft got Mrs Hudson out via the front door."

Molly was still getting over the shock of the explosion, while Greg continued.

"But no one has seen or heard anything of Sherlock, John or Mycroft since. They are unofficially listed as missing."

Missing.

And yet, she could still hear Sherlock's voice on the phone not five minutes before.

"Molly, I just want you to do something very easy for me and not ask why?"

"Molly, please, without asking why, just say these words."

"Molly, this is for a case. It's... It's a sort of experiment."

"It's very important. I can't say why. But I promise you, it is..."

***

Chapter 2: Analysing the Available Data

***

MOLLY’S FLAT – LIVING ROOM

After speaking to Greg, Molly spent the rest of that day going over every detail of the phone call. But she wasn’t analysing it on how it affected her, but Sherlock.

Looking back now she realised that on some level she had instinctively known something was off. But due to the way she had been feeling before he’d called, and her growing irritation, then hurt and anger as the phone conversation progressed had meant that she hadn’t paid the attention she perhaps should have. After all, one could never accuse Sherlock of being backwards about coming forward whenever he wanted something.

And yet as she replayed their conversation in her head, it was now clear he had been anything but his usual confident self.

**

THE PHONE CALL

“Molly, I just want you to do something very easy for me and not ask why.”

The request had been of the Sherlock-type she was used to receiving, yet something was off. His words were carefully measured, and cautious.

And she’d dismissed them as nothing more than a silly game.

“No, it’s not a game. I need you to help me.”

He was hesitant, each word was chosen with care. This was not the usually self-assured Consulting Detective speaking.

“It’s not about that.”

Impatience had crept into his tone, but there was more to it than that. He wanted the conversation over as quickly as possible, but not like he would normally, even with her he could be very brusque, when he needed something quickly. Something, or more likely someone else was driving this need to move quickly, like he was under some sort of time restriction.

“Molly, please, without asking why, just say these words.”

There had been a long pause, or hesitation. Long enough that she had to remind him that she was still waiting to learn what it was he needed from her. When finally he had spoken, the words were again spoken with care.

“I love you.”

The request when it came was delivered in an almost Sherlock-like way. Each word said clearly and precisely.

“Molly, no please, no! Don’t hang up! Do not hang up!”

His response is immediate. Every word is driven by one overriding emotion – panic.

“Please, I swear, you just have to listen to me.”

He speaks softly, trying to appear calm and reassuring.

“Molly, this is for a case. It’s...it’s a sort of experiment.”

Again his tone is cautious, and he tries to choose his words with care, but he miscalculates.

“No, I know you’re not an experiment. You’re my friend, we’re friends. But, please, just say those words for me.”

There is a clear realisation of his poor choice of words. But though he speaks softly, there is an undertone of desperation in his voice.

“It’s very important. I can’t say why. But I promise you it is.”

The tone is now one of cajoling, though the undertone of desperation remains.

“Of course you can. Why can’t you?” / “No, I don’t know why.”

The emotions here are clear, confusion, and a growing sense of desperation.

“Please, just say it.” / “Why?”

His desperation makes him impatient. He has no comprehension of how much saying those words will cost her.

“Well, if it’s true, just say it anyway.” / “Say it anyway.”

Or maybe he does. He needs to hear her say those words aloud so it forces him to appear cruel. If making her angry will get her to say the words, then so be it.

“What?”

He is taken aback, and confused by her unexpected condition.

“I... I love you.”

He’s hesitant, trying to ensure that he sounds genuine. But once the words are out of his mouth, there is a moment of realisation.

“I love you.”

He says the words again, this time for real.

“Molly? Molly, please!”

He becomes truly panicked, his emotions driven by genuine fear, and in his desperation he comes as close as he ever has to begging.

No sooner were the words out of her mouth, then abruptly the line went dead.

**

MOLLY’S FLAT – LIVING ROOM

A growing realisation in the pit of her stomach had her legs almost giving way, as she stumbled towards her sofa, and collapsed down on it.

Sherlock was being forced, under some considerable duress to make her say those words.

The question was why.

And then a chill ran down her spine as Molly recalled Greg’s words.

"But no one has seen or heard anything of Sherlock, John or Mycroft since. They are unofficially listed as missing."

 Were their lives under threat if she hadn’t said the words?

And had her condition, that he spoke the words first, like he meant them, also put them in further danger?

Tears of anguish and regret began streaming down her face as multiple unpleasant scenarios began forming in her mind.

And her overriding thought was.

'What have I done?'

***

Chapter 3: Revelations

***

MOLLY’S FLAT – BEDROOM

After a restless night tossing and turning, Molly woke to find herself cradled securely in Sherlock’s arms. Her head and upper body pressed to his chest as he lay reclined against her bed-head.

They stayed as they were for several minutes, neither willing to disturb the comfortable silence. But the elephant in the room could not be ignored, or put off forever.

Reluctantly Molly made to move to get off the bed. But Sherlock had other ideas, surprising her by pulling her back to him, and placing her so that she now sat across his lap.

His need to keep her close an indication of a profound change to his usual contemptuous and dismissive assertions regarding sentiment as being nothing more than ‘a chemical defect found on the losing side’, had clearly undergone a thorough and radical re-evaluation.

Molly remained silent as she contemplated this change in Sherlock when she caught sight of the state of his hands.

“Oh my God Sherlock, what happened to your hands?” she cried, taking them in her own one at a time to examine them more closely. “Who did this to you?”

“I did,” he replied, remaining compliant throughout her examination.

“What! Why?”

Sherlock remained silent, his gaze focussed on their now interlaced fingers.

“Why would you do this to yourself?” she asked softly. And then a chill raced up and down her spine. “Are John and Mycroft safe?”

Sherlock raised their entwined hands and placed a kiss to the back of her hand.

“They’re alive and safe,” he assured her, wrapping his arms around her once again, as he explained. “I tore a coffin meant for you apart with my bare hands.”

As Molly’s body tensed in realisation, he placed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“If I hadn’t said...”

“Yes.”

“How?” asked with no hesitation.

Sherlock smiled, his brave Molly. Determined to know the worst up front, no matter the cost come what may. “She said she had your flat rigged to explode in approximately three minutes.”

“She?” the curiosity was clear.

“My sister, Eurus,” he responded.

Molly pulled back so that she could look up at him. “You have a sister?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “I have an era-defining genius, psychopathic sister.”

Sherlock then went on to explain in minute detail all that he had learned, and all that he, John and Mycroft had been put through in the last 36 hours.

When his narrative ended Molly remained silent, deep in thought as she went over everything he had just told her.

“Molly?” Sherlock’s concerned voice penetrated, but it was only when she felt his fingers gently wiping away her tears that she realised she’d been crying.

“I’m so sorry Sherlock,” she said, her expression one of complete contrition

“What for?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“That I made you say the words first. I knew something wasn’t right the moment you spoke, but I’d had a bad day, an autopsy on a toddler Rosie’s age.”

Immediately Sherlock pulled her in close.

“It was only after I’d spoken with Greg and found out what happened to your flat, and that you, John and Mycroft were all missing, that I re-evaluated our conversation, and realised you were being forced to do so. Though at the time I thought you were doing it to save John or Mycroft, and I felt so awful.’

She paused to take a deep breath. ���So I am so sorry for making you say those words to me.”

“I’m not,” Sherlock’s reply surprised her.

“You’re...not.”

“Nope,” he assured her, popping the p in his usual infuriating way, a grin forming on his cupids bow lips.

“And why is that?” Molly asked.

Sherlock’s expression became serious as he lent down resting his forehead against Molly’s so that they were looking deep into each other’s eyes.

“I do love you. I think I have for quite awhile. Being forced to say it aloud released something inside me, made me acknowledge despite my best efforts to convince myself otherwise, I do in fact possess a heart. And it belongs to you, always has and always will.”

Molly’s heart fluttered happily at his declaration.

“Well,” she responded, smiling cheekily. “That being the case, I have a request.”

“Name it.”

“Could we dispense with the dating stage and go straight to shagging?”

The old Sherlock would have been horrified at the very notion. But he was no longer that man. “I do so love the way you think Molly Hooper.” And to reinforce his point, Sherlock carefully but with determined purpose rolled them both over so that Molly now lay underneath him. “So if I were to suggest that the shagging started this very minute. What would you say?”

Molly’s response was to reach up and begin undoing the button of his shirt...

***

[kob131]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ZiQAq_nf1s

“Could have expanded on the ideas surrounding the character but you just couldn’t do that, Rooster Teeth?”-

Look man, I get getting angry about a character you like being killed off-

But for fuck’s sake, keep the creators out of your bullshit.

0:24 See the thing is-

If you take a look at numerous things surrounding the show and how the show actually treats them: Expectations are almost completely out of the CRWBY’s hands.

This isn’t like what happened with The Last Jedi were the creators purposefully built up what their predecessor did only to completely dash them-We had people making theories about and treating the shattered moon as this huge plot point when no one makes any mention of it and it’s basically there to look cool. And then when the unimportant background object was given non-earth shattering reveal, people bitched at the CRWBY. So unless you can show beyond a shadow of doubt they did this with Adam (which you’ve failed to do twice before): All I’m going to do is throw you in the same bin as the Yang fans who insist that she has no flaws.

1:13 Wanna note here this spider tank is smaller and weaker looking than the Paladin from Volume 2 (the same one that Team RWBY had troubles with until Yang punched it out full force with her Semblance). Looking being the operative word because assumption is the same thing Eruption here is basing his argument on so if he tries to bring up the Paladin being outclassed later on then the Spider Tank is logically even more outclassed.

Also of note:

The Spider Tank does not have Aura.

Adam absorbs a full three second blast.

And Adam is not shown taking a hit once.

These are all important factors.

1:23 Same expectation for Yang surprisingly, to the point she was considered a Mary Sue pre Volume 2, Episode 10. There we established Yang isn’t as powerful as she seems due to her anger, recklessness and lack of finesse in her fighting style. This shows that weaknesses in these characters can be established after their establishing moments since we had never seen Yang faced with a situation like this before. Again, keep this in mind.

1:53 No actually. Two of three things you stated are not established here. Adam is not established as a leader due to this being a two man operation PRECISELY because it’s a two man operation. Because of this, Adam is not shown leading anyone and in fact is portrayed as Blake’s equal as he almost never gives her orders. Nor is he presented as caring about the WF as he never expressly shows concern or dedication to the cause. He only seems to care about blowing up a train full of humans. 

If anything, he is established a powerful combatant with a bloodlust against humans. That’s all. 

3:02 *holds up a finger*

Unreliable Narrator.

It’s a trope where the person giving the information isn’t exactly reliable and thus the information isn’t that good. Reasons can range from lies to insanity to personal bias. Personal bias, like say an abuse survivor glorifying their abuser because of mental damage. 

In order for me to take Blake’s words as you do at face value, you have to prove this is inconsistent behavior for an abuse survivor. 

Not to mention the fact that you ignore an important bit of context: Adam approved of and helped carry out a plan to destroy not just Beacon but Vale as well. Both of which contain a fair number of Fanaus. He makes no attempt to warn Fanaus ahead of time nor does he seem to care about them.

4:40 yes and I’m sure Adolf wouldn’t want to waste German soldiers on a Jewish cause.

The issue here is that you focus on the word ‘cause’ whereas the narrative could be focused on the word ‘human’. A racist psychopath wouldn’t waste time and resources helping someone who they are racist against.

4:48... And you showcase a clip where Adam clarifies ‘human’, meaning it barely has anything to do with leadership and everything to do with racism. … Why?

5:08 Once again, the same traits can apply to a racist psychopath sending people to die for his own selfish reason rather than some leader. You have not shown anything to disprove the first interpretation (which is the one you arguing against as you think his character was changed.)

5:25 Really? It didn’t become shaky when Blake contradicted the idea of Adam being someone reasonable when she expressed concern and FEAR over the fact that Yang acted slightly like Adam? It didn’t become shaky when you never proved Adam being a leader and only proved him being racist? It didn’t become shaky upon reflecting on all this as the only reason you think Adam is a leader is because of Blake, someone who has reason to be an unreliable narrator especially with her actions in Volume 3?

I think we’ve been riding on a completely different set of trails this whole time.

5:33 >Not romantic >”my mentor” >Same show with Arkos in it

Yeah, either show me proof it's platonic or this was a case of Schrodinger's Relationship where it can be both things at the same time due to a lack of information, only to be defined when given solid proof.

5:45 Once again, I refer to Adolf Hitler who acted like his actions were a revolution himself. And I don't refer to Adolf for no reason, Adam display all the classical examples of a racist sociopath like Hitler did. Hell, he was one Mein Kampf quote away from being a more blatant Nazi Expy than the Daleks.

7:05 Except that Yang’s power level was cemented before this with the destruction of the Paladin, a feat FAR greater than Adams previous feat, only to be defeated by someone who never showed that level of strength (Neo) by acting around her and taking advantage of Yang’s weaknesses. This cements a very simple idea: Power is not everything. Yang was shown to be more powerful than Neo but Neo was far more skilled and was able to work around Yang’s Semblance and anger issues. Not just that, but Adam is once again NEVER shown to take a hit from Blake OR Yang in this whole fight so his DURABILITY is undefined.

So you’re basically applying DBZ logic to something more like JoJo in nature. Not really anyone’s fault here but yours.

8:05 Except not really.

Blake said Adam was misguided. Illa acts misguided.

Blake said Adam fell off the slipperly slope. Illa acts her descent.

Blake said Adam was these things. Illa IS these things.

This like saying Raven’s character was retconned because Taiyang described her differently, never mind how Taiyang has an inherent bias for Raven/would have a reason to lie.

Illa exists because she is what you deluded Adam was. Once again, no one’s fault but your own.

8:10 And you know...Illa doesn’t contradict a single thing stated about her unlike Adam who contradicted EVERYTHING stated about him...by Blake...his abuse victim...

You uh, wanna rethink your arguments now? Cuz you’re sounding less like someone who knows what they’re talking about and more like a RWDE poster.

8:40 You know, aside from the fact that Sienna denied him what he wanted and stood in his way...like Blake...a Fanaus...and former partner/lover.

Wow those arguments just keep getting more and more flimsy. Wonder if we’ll get to the point where I can just quote the show to disprove you.

9:01 Like say, trying to kill the Runaway Blake or the Belladonnas or, I dunno, THE HUNDREDS OF FANAUS THAT LIVED IN VALE/BEACON WHO HELPED TRY TO KILL WITHOUT REMORSE?

See how each of Adam’s actions makes him look more and more self centered, almost as though he’s breaking down and losing the mask he’s portrayed himself as?

9:45 Wrong.

Here’s where we get to the fundamental misunderstanding you have about Adam.

Why does he want to hurt humans? Because they hurt him.

Why does he want to hurt Blake? Because she hurt him.

Why does Adam work for the WF? Because it benefits him.

Why does Adam believe in Fanaus Supremacy? Because it benefits him.

Adam’s character never changed. It never made this dramatic shift you keep hinting at. He was always this way. All his actions have the common thread of benefitting himself whereas the character you think he is would have some kind of self sacrifice for his people.

But that’s only half the story. I’ll get to the other half when you do.

10:17 *raises eyebrow*

… Do I even need to bring up things like the KKK and the Nazis, who were both groups of people in VASTLY greater numbers that were manipulated and used by manipulative people without any real rational reason because people are not rational? Hell, want a better example? BLM is an organization of people who do terrible things because they feel oppressed, nevermind how that doesn’t excuse their actions nor that their leaders care more about their own selfish desires than anything meaningful.

Your argument doesn’t work, history disagrees with you.

10:26 So are all known dictators and tyrants: That doesn’t mean Adam was a misguided revolutionary.

10:43 No it just didn’t exist. He was never the character you made him out to be, your disappointment is the result of nothing more than buying into an illusion. And I can’t blame anyone for that but the person who willingly did that. I don’t care how sad you are: You fail because of your own flaws.

10:56 No, nobody but Adam stans felt that way. No one said that but people who refused to accept the idea that Adam wasn’t what they thought he was. It's the same damn bullshit in regards to Raven: It’s not the writers fault you hyped yourself for something they contradicted. If you want an example of hyping up a character aspect then abandoning it: Look at how cinder was portrayed in Volume 4 and how the sympathetic angle was abandoned in Volume 5 onward. THAT is the fault of the writers. Not this.

11:31 Except-

A. Adam was never in it for anyone but himself as his previous actions with Vale/Beacon can attest.

And B. Blake directly says that the change was only temporary and we can see that such extremity only leads to creating the opposite. Adam was created as the result of Jacques’ opportunistic and psychopathic actions, making Adam opportunistic and psychopathic. And we can see this in our world: white supremacy as a whole was on it’s last legs a few years ago and it was on the verge of becoming as arachic and out dated as monarchies and slavery. But when extremists yelling about how awful white people are as a whole and being violent extremists rose up, white supremacy resurged. Why? Because those hurt by the first group became extremist themselves due to how people gravitate between extremes. And the first group only existed because of the older form of the second group being douchebags in the past. 

Adam works not as a revolutionary but as a cautionary tale of how self sustaining this cycle of hate is. Eventually, Adam would have caused Fanaus racism to spike right back up and give those racists a strawman to point to, just like what happened at our doorstep.

12:57 No, Sienna is portrayed as opportunistic and power hungry and Adam is giving a sadistic smile at the praise. There is no ambiguity here: Ghira is and was portrayed as in the right and Adam/Sienna were portrayed as and are in the wrong. You’re ignoring context. AGAIN.

13:47 Says the guy whose trying to discredit everything Adam related post Volume 2 and would have every reason to willfully misrepsent the scene to support his argument, nevermind how he hasn’t proven a damn thing.

14:29 And just because you say it doesn’t make it so, especially considering a loot of people found Adam interesting again after this short AND this finale.

15:00 No, he’s always been 100% for himself. It’s just that Blake is an easier and more recent target than humans.

15:53 And yet he overcomes her, like the Fall Of Beacon. Forgot that part eh?

16:04 Nope.

The development with Yang was never her strength but rather her tactics. Thing is, we never see Adam use tactics in a fight. We never see him think or strategize in fights. And his style reflects someone who fights with power alone. Meanwhile, Yang has developed from Volume 3 with her training because Taiyang taught her that she can’t just power through everything in sight and has to THINK her way around thing. This being demonstrated by tripping up Taiyang, prioritizing the long ranged bandits in her Volumee 5 fight, letting go of her arm in the Haven fight and here by not feeding Adam’s Semblance and instead waiting for an opening to strike him down and disarm him (you know, like Neo did in Volume 2.)

The show directly said this, you have no excuse Eruption Fang.

16:30 No you just overhyped the boss and made it look tougher than they are. you basically hyped the Minotaur from SMT4 as Matador from SMT3, despite the latter being tougher than the former.

17:01 ADAM. IS NOT. THE FANAUS.

BLAKE is the representative of the Fanaus.

Just as Jacques isn’t the representative of the humans, WEISS is.

Stop trying to make Adam look like the only Fanaus involved in the conflict.

And even THEN: Adam IS Morally grey. Just not the ‘misguided revolutionary’ you made him out to be.

Remember when I said that Adam is selfish being only half the story? Well, Adam is selfish BECAUSE of his brand. Why? Because that action symbolizes how he lost his agency and his innocence a long time ago, now seeking control over other people through either tricking people into following him or abusing them until they listen, because he lost the control he once had. Because the branding scarred him so deeply it changed him as a person. But because of his obsession with control over others, he’s stuck in a mentally immature state. He’s just a scared child trying to get back at the people who hurt him and get back SOME semblance of control that he lost, nevermind how he hurts others because a child never thinks about such things.

He isn’t a misguided revolutionary, he’s a victim of abuse and racism that defined him before he had a choice, so he now tries to rob others of choice to feel better.

It’s the same thing Nazi Germany went through in regards to WWI’s aftermath, where their economy tanked and they became hungry and cold so they sought out anything to make themselves feel better, even if the option was a manchild of a dictator.

And that’s why this is no one’s fault but your own, Collen. You were given a morally grey character as you say you were promised: You just threw a fit because it wasn’t 100% what you wanted.

18:07 And just because someone is evil doesn’t mean they cannot be pitied or understood. You are denying complex writing for your headcanon.

19:10 No you’re just salty and denying it.

19:41 and yet you ignore the bad decisions Adam makes on his path through life, deciding to be violently, giving in to his abusive urges, deciding to be selfish and deciding to hurt other people for his own benefit:  basically preaching what the show said except worse in every regard.

20:08 You say as every ‘inconsistency’ you try to list is more evident of you ignoring facts right in front of you just to make yourself feel better than an actual inconsistency. I would have given this to you except by going through all this bullshit and spewing all of this, I’ve come to learn that Adam was never inconsistent and that the only fault was not portraying Blake’s symptoms of abuse more clearly.

20:12 And this si where we’re stopping because I swear, this one line makes me wanna smack you upside the head.

Adam didn’t ‘die’ in Volume 3. Your Adam NEVER EXISTED. He was never real, he was just an illusion built on misinformation and denial of reality. And yet instead of reflecting and thinking about Adam’s actions and trying to see if there’s a connecting thread, you decide to stomp your feet, flail your arms and insult everyone else, even the creators, just because you didn’t get what you wanted.

Either accept it or let go.

[lovemesomesurveys]

5,000 question survey series--part thirty-three

3101. Would it bother you if your priest, rabbii or other religious leader (teacher if you are not religious) started wearing a plain black mask all the time? If yes, why? Yes. I’d find it very odd to say the least and I’d also be skeptical. It’s not something worn by priests or rabbis. 3102. Where do you look for the answers? Google. ha. 3103. If you are driving and someone honks at you does it ruin your whole day? I don’t drive. It would probably piss me off, but I don’t know if it would ruin my whole day. 3104. If you are driving and you get angry at another driver do you: yell at them through their and your closed window? Yeah, I’d just cuss ‘em out to myself, ha. open the window and yell at them? throw things at them? stop the car and start a fight with them? do something else?

3105. I'm in the right lane on the parkway. There is an exit only lane on my right. A car pulls out from behind the pack into the exit only lane. When that car gets to the exit he is right in front of me only one lane to the right of me. Instead of exiting the parkway he tries to creep back in in front of me. I get pissed and honk the horn. He (I keep saying he but I couldn't tell) throws up his hands as he slides in front of me. I think this is funny and toot again. He throws up his hands again. I do this about three more times and each time I toot he throws his hands in the air. Then my exit clomes up and I have to get off. From the time he got in front of me until I got off the parkway we drove approx. 20 feet. What you think about this situation? I really didn’t feel like reading the whole thing, ha. 3106. Do you live in reality or in your 'own little world'? I do get lost in my head with my own thoughts all the time, but I’m also in reality and know what’s going on. Which one is better? Neither are great. 3107. Who's your favorite soprano? I didn’t watch that. 3108. Why is there porn geared towards straight men, gay men, lesbians but none really geared towards straight woman? I don’t know anything about that. Or care. 3109. Is there more to being human than chemicles and impulses? If yes, what? These questions are too much for me, ha. I don’t feel like thinking that deep. 3110. What if all the boys in jail could get out now together? Um no? 3111. If your shoes could talk what would they say? They’d be pretty happy cause they’re kept in good condition. They never even touch the ground. Or they might be sad cause I never go anywhere and they just sit in my closet. *shrug* 3112. How many windows are in your house? 3. 3113. Did you walk around your house and count them all? No. If not what did you do? I already knew the answer since we don’t have that many. 3114. Do you think people store memories as pictures or words? People’s minds work differently. 3115. If you got sent to jail who would your one phone call be to? My mom. 3116. Pick a movie you have seen: Us. Give a 2 sentance review about it using the word 'go': You should go see it cause it’s creepy and great. The deeper messages and meanings are interesting. 3117. Pick a song you like: Free bird by Lynyrd Skynyrd. Give a 2 sentance review of it useing the word 'come': Blah. 3118. Pick a person you like: Alexander Skarsgard. Give a two sentance description of them useing the word 'lunchbox': Blaaaaah. 3119. What do these 3 words have in common: hippo, camp, us? Hippocampus is a word. 3120. If you could save time in a bottle, the first thing that you'd like to do is.. “If I could save time in a bottle, the first thing that I’d like to doooo.” 3121. Who is the most powerful person in the world that you can think of? God is the most powerful everything. 3122. If you were designing a mini-golf hole what would it be like? Like a golf hole. 3123. Why do you think certain people become targets for teasing in school or exclusion at work? Bullies pick at on people they think are weak. 3124. Why, in essays, is the word 'I' not allowed to be used when it is our own PERSONAL thoughts being expressed? It’s evident that it’s your own personal thoughts unless stated otherwise. There’s no need to put “I.” 3125. What song would you like your doorbell to play? That would actually get annoying. 3126. Would you rather watch MTV or play GO FISH? Depends what was on. I like Go Fish, though. I played that all the time with my Nana when I was a kid. 3127. What is an itch? An irritation to your skin or nerve cells. 3128. Why did the holocost happen? Adolf Hitler and his radical racist beliefs. 3129. Would you be capable of torturing another person? I can’t imagine myself ever physically hurting someone. This does makes me think of the famous psychological experiment, the Milgram Experiment, where participants were told someone in another room was attached to a machine that would deliver electric shocks for every wrong answer they gave to questions. These shocks would be given by the participant. Each time the person attached to the machine got a question wrong, the intensity of the shock would increase. The man conducting the study watched over the participant and told them to deliver the shocks, encouraging them to continue if they hesitated, expressing the importance of doing so. What the participants didn’t know was that the man attached to the machine was never really receiving any electrical shocks. Many of the participants delivered the shocks as told, thinking that the person was really being shocked. The idea behind the study was seeing how people respond to authority and doing something because someone in authority told them to do, even if it meant hurting someone. :O

3130. How did Hitler's army do this and still believe they were good people? There’s another study called the Stanford Prison Experiment where people were assigned to taking on the role of prisoner or guard in a prison setting. The guards began mistreating the prisoners, which showed that otherwise good people can end up abusing their power when it’s given to them. I suppose that’s what happened with those of Hitler’s army who believed they were good people. It’s a mix of both studies in that we see abuse of power and being under/submitting to authority. They believed they were just following orders. 3131. Do you like poetry to rhyme? Yes. 3132. Does 'jewish' describe a race or a religion? Isn’t it both? 3133. How tall are you? About 5′4. 3134. If Hitler was capable of such cruelty to others, and he is human, does that mean that all humans are capable of this cruelty?/ Hitler may have been human, but he was an evil human. A psychopath. 3135. How long have you ever gone without sleep? 36 hours or so. 3136. Is a mouse a miracle? No? 3137. there are alcoholics, chocoholics, shoppoholics, practically anything can be an 'oholic. What's your 'oholic? Coffeeoholic. 3138. Does heaven have aphone number? No. If it did would you call? You don’t need a phone number to talk to God or even loved ones who have passed.

Who would you ask to speak to? What would you say? 3139. Fortune time!! 1,2, 3, or 4? if 1: 5, or 6? if 2: 7 or 8? if 3: 9 or 10? if 4 11 or 12? Now pick a letter between A and G: if A: 13 or 14? if B: 15 or 16? if C or D: 17 or 18? if E or F: 19 or 20? if F: 21 or 22? if G: 22 or 23? --------- you should now have two numbers. look at both numbers below and combine the sayings to get a fortune. 5: you are a very loving person 6: you will become very rich 7: you are too hard on yourself 8: cats will bring you bad luck 9: gremlins will eat all your cheese 10: you are going on a trip 11: someone you don't know will be watching you 12: you will get what you want --- 13. and your life will be filled with romance 14. but you will fall in love with a babboon 15. and salt is lucky for you 16. or you will inherit a cough medicine factory 17. and you will not come back 18. and you will lose the remote 19. or your favorite team will win 20. and you were born under a lucky star 21. but the next person who leave you a note is attracted to you 22. and you will have a stalker soon 23. or your best friend will take you to a movie 3140. Do you vote? Yes. 3141. Are you always honest with yourself? I think I’m pretty realistic and honest with myself for the most part.

Were you honest when you answered that question? Yes. 3142. What kinds of diary names or entry titles make you specifically NOT want to read that diary? 3142. Is writing an online diary more about being honest about yourself or entertaining your readers? I’m really open and honest in these surveys. I’m a little sarcastic and funny at times, too. 3143. What are you the last of? Uhh. 3144. Who do you really appreciate and what have you done lately to show that you appreciate them? I appreciate my mom. I need to show her that more. 3145. When people do good deeds are they really doing them because they are a good person or because they want to feel like a good person? Or both? There are people who truly do good things because that’s just who they are and don’t give it a second thought. Like it just comes natural to them to help others and they don’t expect things in return. Some do things for the reward and what they can get out of it in return. Others do good things because they want to and it makes them feel good. 3146. Somewhere far back in the survey I asked if Bill Gates or Mothe Thereasa was more successful. The most popular answer I have seen is 'it depends on how you define success'. Well, this survey is about YOU isn't it? So how do YOU define success? I thought I answered this already. 3147. Are people making up reality as they go along? Maybe some do? 3148. You may need a calculator for this one. Think of your weight. Divide it by 2.2 multiply the answer by .8 What do you get? 29.09. That is how many grams of protein you need to eat every day to stay healthy. Do you think you eat enough? I need more than that. I’m supposed to be incorporating a lot of protein into my diet. 3149. What is your feeling about republicans? 3150. What do you need to do? Get my shit together. What do you need to stop doing? Not getting my shit together. 3151. If you were to start a club, what club would you start? I wouldn’t. 3152. Are your hands and feet always cold? Not usually. Maybe you have bad circulation. MAyBe YoU hAvE bAd CiRcUlAtIoN. lol. 3153. Have you ever been prank called? Nah. If yes, what was the situation? 3154. Have you ever prank called someone? Yes. If yes, what was the prank? In middle school my friends and I did stupid stuff like that sometimes. We would call businesses, not anyone we knew. 3155. Have you ever gotteen into a conversation with someone when they or you have dialed a wrong number? No. I’m not trying to stay on the phone, especially with someone I don’t know. It’s like, “Sorry wrong number, bye.” 3156. Have you ever just sat alone with no distractions for a whole hour and thought about things? Yes. If yes, does the universe open up when you do this? My mind is too jumbled. It’s a mess up there. 3157. Are you a genius? No. 3158. If you were going to design the PERFECT signifigant other...what flaws would you give them? Uhh. 3159. If you answered NO to 3157, why do you doubt yourself? I’m really just an average gal and I know it. 3160. RARRRR!!! Scared ya, didn't I? Totally. 3161. Do feelings and ideas come from inside the mind or outside in the culture? I think our feelings and ideas that we feel and think come from outside things. 3162. When you have a feeling or an idea: do you trust it? Not always. Even when people are telling you that you are wrong? It really just depends. Even when people are laughing at you for it? 3163. WHAT IS YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME? (YOUR MIDDLE NAME BECOMES YOUR FIRST NAME AND YOUR LAST NAME IS THE NAME OF THE STREET OF THE HOUSE YOU GREW UP IN): Nah. 3164. What is the differance between spirituality and religion? I don’t know to explain it. 3165. What is the speediest way you know of to get over a cold or flu? Nothing. You just gotta ride it out, really. 3166. Who is your favorite comedian? I don’t have one. 3167. What do you think of Winona Ryder's court case? Damn this is old. 3168. What was your last nightmare about? Let’s not think about that. 3169. Who are the people in your neighborhood? People. 3170. During what decade was popular music the most emotional? I don’t know? There’s emotional music in any decade. During what decade was popular music the bes? I like music from various decades. 3171. How did Frederick Douglas, escape slavery against all odds? Didn’t he disguise himself and escape on a train? There were thousands and thousands of slaves around him, why did only he manage to learn to read and write? Some were taught by their masters. 3172. Do you download porn? (be honest!) No. 3173. Why is 'go suck an egg' or 'your grandma sucks eggs!' an insult? I don’t know. 3174. Life is: hard. I am: Tired. I am not: Healthy. But I want to be: Healthy and happy. And I wish I could: Travel. 3175. What is the highest achivement anyone could ever achieve in this department? spiritual: physical: emotional: with their humanity: 3176. Can you give step by step instructioons on how to think deeply? No. 3177. DDid you ever see the Wizard of Oz with the sound all the way down while listening to pink Floyd's The Wall? No...

If yes, did you see what everyone says goes on when you do that? I haven’t heard about that.

3178. Let's say you were writing an application for potential new friends. What three questions would you ask (and what would you want the answers to be)? Nah. 3179. Which two words of the following words goes together the best and why: mullet, brocollii, community, blue, phosphor, hammer, ocean, hand Blue and ocean. 3180. Are you dyslexic? No. 3182. Are you overwhelmed? Yes. By what? Life. 3183. 'My natural elasticity was crushed.' What does that mean? *shrug* 3184. What is humanity evolving towards, do you think? 3185. Are you good at cracking codes? ,t y dsud yp Ftoml upit ,o;l I'll give you a hint. Y really means T. 3186. How many holes do you have in your body (ex. mouth)? Ew holes. 3187. Now there are ads on taxi cab hubcaps. Is there ANY free space LEFT to put more ads onto taxis??? Nope. 3188. What's the worst place to have a scab? Scabs are just gross. 3189. Do you pick your scabs? :X 3190. Who's goin' chicken huntin'? Not me. 3191. post 'it' note: what does 'it' stand for? What you’re posting. 3192. What is a tragedy? A sad event. 3193. Where is guam? Kind of near the Philippines. 3194. Are you bubbly? No. Do you drink bubbly? Nope. 3195. Do you have caller ID? Yeah.

If you do then do you only answer the phone after looking at it? Yeah I always check who’s calling first. 3196. Bewitched or Jeannie? I never got into that. 3197. When will you be able to just do what you want to? My health is a factor, but the biggest thing stopping me is myself. 3198. How do people live with the fact that their time is short and priceless yet they get paid too little to waste too much of it? I don’t know, man. 3199. OOGA! Make your best cave-pperson sound! 3200. Who tells better gossip, your best friend or your answering machine? Not sure what gossip my answering machine is doing.

[bethgreeneishopeunseen]

What do you mean that you are an Empath?

Before I delve into the metaphysical concept of Empaths, I should clarify the different kinds of empathy. To be honest I’m still pretty new to being an Empath and the related community and research. However, I do know about some of it as the development of empathy often comes up in relation to trauma. How a person experiences empathy can develop and/or change because of trauma and usually does. Anyway, there are two main types of empathy. James Fallon, a neuroscientist and an expert on psychopathic behavior summarizes them as (X):

“Cognitive empathy is the ability to know what other people are feeling, and emotional empathy is the kind where you feel what they’re feeling.” 

Social predators like narcissists and psychopaths tend to develop cognitive empathy as it allows them to blend into society, wear a convincing mask, and identify potential targets and their vulnerabilities. I wish I had known about this type of empathy a few years ago. For so long, I thought my twin brother was an empathetic person. He said that he was, and he acted the part. But in hindsight, he never was. It was all an act. When I’d come to him, drowning in pain because of our parents’ abuse (in particular our father’s), he’d tell me to just get over it. That I had a victim complex. We really are the perfect, fucked-up yin yang twins. He’s darkness, and I’m light. He knows what people feel, and I feel what they feel.

So, neurotypical people have a normal amount of emotional/compassionate empathy. They can pick up on what another person is feeling and want to help. In my AP Psyche class, during our feral children section, empathy was actually listed as one of the two defining traits of humanity. And then there are what I call Empaths with a capital E. These kinds of people have emotional/compassionate empathy to a high degree, a hyper empathy if you will. From what I’ve read, Empathy is something that’s more genetic in nature. Hyper empathy can also stem from trauma, as interpersonal abuse conditions you to your abuser’s moods. My father, and my mother to an extent, was very mercurial. My father was a volatile man who would do things like throw shit at the wall and damage doors. I had to learn from a young age how to read him. So I’m very sensitive to a person’s face, tone, and body language and how they change.  

Anyway, being an Empath means that I feel people’s emotions and their overall energy/aura. It can be very overwhelming. One of the first times I noticed it was when I was catering an event on my campus last year. It was a dinner at the President’s house, so everyone was running around stressed, including myself. But the moment I went downstairs to the employee bathroom, I felt calm. It wasn’t my stress that I was feeling. However, I really became aware of it because of my paranormal experiences last year. I’m in my school’s Paranormal Club, and last year we visited an old restaurant and Gettysburg. The restaurant had some construction dating back to the Revolution, and in the dirt-floor basement we got some EVPs (electronic voice phenomenon; ghost voices). (One of the EVPs was actually an unidentified male voice saying, “No,” to my question of, “Did you die here?”.) In the basement, I suddenly began to think of these Civil War spirits that were reportedly seen, and I grew emotional. I had a knot in my throat and water at the edge of my eyes. It was odd. Then later that month we visited Gettysburg for a weekend. On our first night we went to Sachs Bridge, a place known for its activity. I watched a cigarette re-light itself, felt its cold back end after it eventually went out (as if something cold had held it), and then watched said cigarette move by itself when set on a railing. (And no, there was no wind that night and especially at that moment.) By the riverbank, as we were asking questions to the air (and hopefully ghosts), I began to feel sad emotions out of nowhere, like I had at the restaurant. Feelings of sadness, of yearning. Tears welled up in my eyes and slipped down my face. 

And these excursions were last April. Back then I was still pretty numb and dry-eyed, as I was just starting to heavily process the abuse. After Gettysburg, I talked to @bethgreenewarriorprincess​ and a college friend about it, as I was considering that I was an Empath. The emotions that I had felt on those excursions weren’t mine, I couldn’t trace them to a specific trigger. My friends validated the possibility, especially after I mentioned my mother’s connection to the paranormal. She told me that the women in our family saw things. Her house was haunted by her mother and her uncle, and she would see shadows and figures move out of the corner of her eye. So I inherited my mother’s sensitivity, but mine was different. Rather than seeing I feel.

Overall, Empaths tend to attract toxic people, damaged people, and ghosts. Empaths are known for having a naturally healing aura, and we also like to help others. We’re fixers by nature. Anytime a friend of mine expresses distress I feel the urge to drop everything and jump to their side, to nurture them. Burn-out is a big risk with Empaths, from what I’ve read, and I can believe it.

My empathy has really grown in the last few months. Being abroad really helped to open up that part of myself, which was likely warped and stunted because of my family. Europe’s old architecture tends to affect Empaths as they have more energy because of the history. I would often be overwhelmed in cathedrals, actually, as this reverence and power would wash over me. It helped that my two closest friends that I made in France, @boldly-qo and @teachers-are-nerds, are also Empaths. We supported each other. boldly-qo and I were housemates, and we became French sisters. They have more experience with being an Empath and the paranormal, so they helped me embrace this side of myself.

I had my first personal paranormal experience about a week ago, during finals. I woke up one night at 3 a.m., and I kept hearing a clicking noise in the corner between my window and the door. I remembered that boldly-qo had looked for ghosts earlier that day. I sensed something in the room with me. It wasn’t malevolent, just a presence. The next day, after I mentioned it to boldly-qo, they mentioned seeing an orb. Orbs are common with ghosts as they require the least amount of energy. (Full-body apparitions are actually rare because of the energy that a ghost would need to generate.) The next night, right after I turned out the lights so I could go to bed, my overhead lamp started to flicker. While there had been electricity problems at my host’s throughout the semester, my light had never done that. And the flickering light moved around on the ceiling lamp. I thought that there was a presence in the room, so I got boldly-qo. They also felt something, something non-malevolent and likely female. The room wasn’t cold, but there was a cold energy and I also felt a heavy weight on my shoulders and chest.

boldly-qo had a spirit box app on their phone, and so we used to try and communicate. For socio-historical context, our host’s house was built in the 20s and during the 40s, Nazis lived downstairs. I stayed in Aix-en-Provence, and there was a concentration camp outside of town. From what I’ve gathered, spirit boxes are a relatively new kind of tech in paranormal research. Ryan uses them a lot on Buzzfeed Unsolved. The device/app scans radio frequencies at an extremely fast rate, generating a large amount of static and white noise. It’s so fast that, in theory, any voices heard can’t be human. 

We learned three things while using the spirit box app: The spirit was a woman named something like Milfred (I think Mildred, as my great-grandmother had the same name), she didn’t live in this house, and she didn’t like being there. Grief and sadness overwhelmed me, and I started to cry, outright sobbing at one point. As I told boldly-qo, those emotions weren’t mine. They held me as the feelings ran their course. It felt like Milfred had left. I felt closure.

That night, boldly-qo dreamt that a soldier had killed them and took their family away. I think that we helped a spirit whose family was taken to the camps. Maybe she was drawn to the house of her killer. We know that Milfred was likely drawn to me and my energy – I’m grieving the loss of my family right now. We’re kindred spirits in a way. While I was frightened at first, because there was a presence in my personal space, by the end of the experience I felt empowered. It was beautiful being able to help someone who was suffering, to let a person know that they were seen.

I know that this is a really long and personal post, but I didn’t know how else to answer your question. It’s taken me about a year to internalize this part of myself, and it can be a hard concept to understand if you haven’t lived it. It’s a bit surreal and really connects you to the greater universe, to a sense of spirituality.