#needing to build my blog back up and maybe reset with some new followers!

[ravennm84]

Serafina II

Part 1     Part 3

The 2nd installment of the “Marinette’s Haunted Doll” series. I was seriously shocked by how much response I got from part one, so I hope this lives up to your expectations. Blood, gore, and death are coming, along with some mental freak-outs. You have been warned. 

Part II

Despite wanting to stay with Marinette to comfort the girl after the tearful apologies by Mylene and Ivan, Serafina couldn’t return until her work was finished. There was still much to do and people to punish. 

She arrived early with Mylene, which allowed her to observe the others that entered the classroom. Kim had returned to school that day in a wheelchair. The cast on his leg went up to his waist and the one on his arm went up to his bicep. His face and exposed skin were covered in bruises and his right eye looked like it had blood in it. 

“How are you feeling, dude?” Nino asked him as he entered alongside Adrien.

“Really sore,” the boy admitted. “Doctors had to reset my leg at the knee and said that my arm was a three piece offset fracture, so they had to use screws to put it back in place. Other than that; had a concussion, a lot of bruises, and a couple cuts; but no internal bleeding or ruptured organs. They said after a few months and some physical therapy, I should be as good as new.”

Nino gave him a solemn nod. “Glad to hear you’re going to be okay, dude.”

Kim’s expression dropped a bit. “I heard about Alya, I’m really sorry, man.”

The boy lowered his head while Adrien patted his back. “I really… I can’t believe she’s gone because of some freak accident. It makes no sense!” Nino jumped to his feet and started pacing as more students filed in. “I mean, she wasn’t supposed to die like that! Getting caught up in an akuma battle, childhood disease, there would be a reason for that! But that was just pointless!”

Mme. Bustier did attempt to calm him down, but her kind words fell on deaf ears before he grabbed his bag and left the room. No one could blame him, and only Adrien followed to make sure he would be alright, and to make sure he wasn’t akumatized.

Lila came in not long after with a curious bag in her hands. Serafina watched the liar as she looked around the room. She had a feeling that the liar would try something after her last attempt to frame Marinette had failed. When the girl tried speaking to Mylene, the doll was proud to see the girl refuse to acknowledge her as she continued to speak with Rose and Juleka. When it was clear that she was being ignored, she tried speaking to Ivan, only for him to give her a harsh glare that had her shuffling backwards. With Max and Alix still at the hospital and Adrien not in the room, that left her with Sabrina. The redhead had been sitting alone at the front of the room since Chloe had transferred schools after the Miracle Queen incident.

“Hi Sabrina, how are you doing?”

The girl smiled up at the italian, glad to still have a friend. “I’m doing okay, at least a lot better than a lot of our class. I heard Max lost sight in his one eye from the chemicals and Alix might have to have cosmetic surgery to get her face back to normal. At least Kim might be back to normal in a few months after going through physical therapy. But Alya…”

Lila faked her tears at the mention of her lost follower. She was really more annoyed than sad, Alya was easily manipulated, went along with everything she said, and Lila had been able to use her blog to build up her popularity. And the girl had been a decent attack dog, just point her at someone and off she went. Now that she was dead, maybe she could turn Sabrina into her new lead follower, she was already partially trained and it wasn’t like the blonde bitch was around anymore.

“I know, it’s so terrible. She was my first friend when I moved here, it’ll be so hard without her,” she faked a few more tears. And just like that, Sabrina took her hand in comfort and said a bunch of soothing words while she continued to fake cry. 

After a moment, Lila placed the bag she’d been holding on the desk and pushed it away from her, making sure the action caught Sabrina’s attention. “What’s that?”

Lila fake sobbed even harder, hiding her face in her hands. “Ma-Marinette, she-she said it was m-my fault that Alya’s dead. She practically threw that bag at me and said to use it,” she said before breaking down in more fake sobs.

Carefully opening the bag, she gasped when she saw it was full of razor blades and a couple of kitchen knives. Sure, she knew that Marinette didn’t get along with Lila, but to actually give this to her and tell her to ‘use it’? How could she be so cruel?

Serafina scowled as the red head hugged the liar and promised her that she would take care of it. Her anger erupted as Sabrina stood from her desk with the bag in hand, and began walking towards Mme. Bustier’s desk. The girl didn't take two steps before tripping over nothing and falling onto her side. Luckily, she did not land on the bag. Unluckily, she gripped it too tight and the impact forced the knives and razors through the bag and deep into her hands.

The girl screamed and cried as blood rushed out of the wounds and down into her sleeves. She begged Lila to help her, but the italian backed away from the girl in shock. Mme. Bustier gripped her head between her hands and began saying “not again, not again” before running out of the room. The only ones that helped her were Juleka, Rose and Ivan; the smaller girl sprinting off to alert the nurse and the principal, while Juleka and Ivan got Sabrina to her feet. Ivan kept the girl upright and moving out the door while Juleka held the girl’s hands above the level of her heart to keep her from bleeding too much.

Those left in the classroom were in shock as they stared at either the door or at the blood staining the floor. No one said anything for a long time, not even Lila. She hadn’t thought anyone would get hurt. She just thought she would get Marinette suspended and everyone would be on her side again. Adrien returned before the others, completely shocked when he saw the blood and Kim explained to him what had happened. The blonde sent a scathing look at Lila but said nothing.

It was a while later before Rose, Ivan, and Juleka returned to class, along with M. Rupere. He informed them that their classes were cancelled for today. “After everything that has occurred this week, I’ve decided that all of you will be meeting with the counselor today. He will decide if more sessions are necessary and for who, but his door and mine are open if you need to talk. M. Deveraux will come to speak with you one at a time. Kim Le Chien, he had requested to speak with you first. Mlle. Rossi,” he looked sternly at the girl, “would you please follow me, we need to talk about the incident with Sabrina Raincomprix.”

Serafina smiled as the liar trudged out of the room after the man. She was satisfied with Sabrina’s punishment and doubted if Mme. Bustier would last another day before having a total mental breakdown. She also knew that Lila would be in even more trouble after M. Rupere looked into the girl a bit more. But just to make sure, Serafina touched her on the way out. To most people, that would do nothing; but to someone like Lila, it would cause her to become more and more unhinged until she did something drastic. Very soon, Lila would be out of the picture and those deserving of punishment will have paid their debts.

~oOo~

It was more difficult sneaking home with Adrien than she had expected, especially with the tiny god of Chaos and Destruction in his bag. Plagg was his name, and he was very defensive of his kitten and had threatened to cataclysm her. Serafina told him that she would not purposefully harm his ‘kitten’, but there was something she had to take care of at the Agreste Mansion. The doll had long suspected that Gabriel Agreste is Hawkmoth and she was going to find out tonight if it was true. Plagg was reluctant to agree since it would hurt Adrien; but if it was true, they had to put an end to it.

After arriving at the mansion, Plagg easily convinced the boy to sneak out and check on Nino. After he left, Serafina sensed something on Adrien’s desk. Being an enchanted/haunted object, she could sense other objects like herself… such as Miraculous jewels. And right there on the desk was a pin shaped like a peacock, one of the jewels that had been missing and used by Mayura. If there had been any doubts before about who had been terrorizing Marinette, they were gone. 

Tucking the pin into her small outfit, she began to search the building, starting with Gabriel’s office. She had expected the man to be present, but he was missing. And given that Hawkmoth was a very active user, she had no doubt that he kept his jewel on him at all times. So, she waited.

It was about an hour later that Gabriel Agrest entered the room, and not from the door Serafina had expected. The man had a secret entry in the floor in front of a portrait of a woman. He was muttering on knowing better than to use Bubbler again, but that the negative emotions had been too strong to ignore. She also saw the purple kwami hovering over his shoulder, but the creature stopped when it sensed her. Gabriel strode out of the room, barely noticing that Nooroo had stayed behind and flew over to the doll hiding behind the desk.

“What are you doing here? If the Master finds you, he will destroy you.” The kwami said with worry.

The doll conveyed that she knew that his master was Hawkmoth, just as her human was Ladybug. She was here to protect her and return the butterfly and peacock miraculous to their rightful place. Also knowing that Gabriel had become too corrupted for his miraculous.

“I’ve tried to tell him that the wish would be dangerous,” Nooroo told her with downcast eyes. “He wants to make a wish to revive his wife, but he doesn’t realize that the cost would be to put Adrien, someone he loves equally as much as Emilie, into the same state of death. She isn’t even truly alive anymore, her body only lives because of the machine she is in.”

An idea spawned in Serafina’s thoughts and she barely kept herself from smiling. She asked Nooroo to help her activate the secret passage so she could get to his wife, but the little kwami shook his head. “Even if I could get you down there, the motion sensors would trip and he would attack you.”

Smiling this time, Serafina promised the little god that Gabriel would not attack her. That she would make sure that Adrien would be safe and the two kwami’s would go to their rightful place. All he had to do was help her open the door. Although reluctant and slightly scared, the little god opened the door, hoping that the nightmare would finally end. 

Down in the lair, the doll saw the mechanical coffin placed in the center of the room and went to it. The motion sensors caught her quickly, but she had been planning on moving fast anyway. Opening the coffin, she settled herself into the woman’s arms. Nooroo had been right, Serafina could sense that the woman’s soul had departed from her body a while ago and it was only the machine that was keeping her body alive. With no other soul to contend with, this would make what she was about to do next all the easier.

Nathalie had called to alert him the moment the alarms went off in the lair while she and Simone were out on an errand. He was moving faster than he could remember with Nooroo following close behind. Gabriel transformed on the way down, prepared to attack whoever had stumbled in, but his breath caught in his throat halfway down when he got a good view of the room. 

The coffin was empty.

Rushing forward, he began frantically searching the room for his wife, calling her name. He turned to rush back upstairs and froze. Standing behind him, looking dazed, was his wife. Her eyes were unfocused and her arms were hugging her middle, but it was her. Dropping his transformation, Gabriel cautiously approached her and she flinched back from him. It took a few minutes and a lot of gentle coaxing before he was able to wrap an arm around her shoulders and lead her to the elevator. When they got to his office, he watched her carefully as she began walking around the room. He wanted her to sit down and rest, but he was still in shock that she was awake and standing in front of him.

Eventually, her green eyes met his. “Where’s Adrien?”

“I… I don’t know, he should be up in his room.”

Emilie’s head tilted slightly, her eyes searching his. “What have you done? Did you make the wish?”

“No, my love. I was going to when I got the jewels, but Ladybug and Chat Noir evaded me.”

Tears grew in her eyes as she continued to stare at him. “You tried to make the wish? Knowing that it would have cost our son’s life?” 

Gabriel froze. He hadn’t known that wishing Emilie to come back would cost Adrien’s… but Nooroo had tried to tell him. He remembered the kwami trying to tell him about the cost and he had forced him to not speak. “I’m sorry, Emilie. I didn’t-”

“You knew,” she interrupted, her voice lacking any emotion as she continued to stare at him. “You knew from the beginning that what you were doing was wrong, evil. You chose to ignore what it would cost.”

“Emilie, my love, please don’t say such things,” Gabriel begged as he rushed forward to wrap his arms around her. “All I have wanted since the day I lost you, was to hold you in my arms again and hear your voice. I was lost without you and was willing to go to the ends of the earth to bring you back. Is that so wrong?”

He had just barely met her eyes when he felt the twin pains in his arms. Jumping back, he looked down to see both wrists had been cut deeply with a pair of his fabric cutting scissors. Blood was draining from the wounds at an alarming rate. His hands were shaking and he was already feeling light headed as he grabbed a handful for fabric from his work table in an attempt to slow the blood. He wanted to call out for help, but they were alone. 

His eyes grew hazed as he looked to Emilie, surprised that she was staring at him with such contempt. “I know what you’ve been doing while I was in that coffin. Tormenting the city and people I love, isolating our son and treating him like a burden. If you had ever succeeded in getting the Cat and Ladybug miraculous, it would have destroyed Paris. But you didn’t care. As you said, all you cared about was hearing my voice and holding me in your arms. Congratulations, your wish came true, and you will be the one to pay the price. Not Adrien.”

His legs gave out from under him as the fabrics dripped from the excess blood. He couldn’t understand how this had happened, Emilie would have never done something like this… but was this really her? With his vision fading, he took a hard look at his wife, only now noticing the dullness of her eyes, the greying pallor of her skin, and the fact that she only seemed to breathe when she spoke… “Who are you?”

Her head tilted again, the corner of her mouth lifting slightly. “Serafina. Quite astute of you to figure that out in your state. Your wife’s soul passed on a long time ago, all you have been doing is preserving a corpse. And I was telling the truth; even if you had made the wish, it would have cost Adrien his life.” Her hand shot forward, removing the butterfly miraculous before he could stop her. “Your actions have hurt someone close to me and I could no longer stand back and allow it to happen.”

She stood, walking to his desk to pull out a piece of paper and writing something down before neatly folding it and leaving it on his desk.

“Wh… What…”

“You just wrote a letter to Adrien; admitting what happened to his mother, that you were Hawkmoth, and the reason why you did what you did.” She said calmly before looking back at him. “Whether he tells the rest of the world is up to him. As for the miraculous, I will give him a chance at redemption. Though if he should fail, you may be seeing him sooner rather than later. Either way, they will soon be back where they belong, with the guardian. And you, good sir, have just committed suicide after bringing your wife’s body upstairs, so you would be able to hold her in your arms as you died.”

Unable to sit upright anymore, Gabriel barely felt his body collapse to the floor. He was hardly aware of Emilie lifting one of his arms to tuck her body to his side. The last thing he was aware of was something that he swore would haunt him in the afterlife; a porcelain doll emerging from the folds of her clothes and standing beside them. It stood there on its own, watching him until he could no longer keep his eyes open and he took his final breath.

Taglist (even longer):

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[alexjcrowley]

Hi! This fanfiction is based on an idea by @idrilearfalas , she wrote the entire concept and the iconic/important lines you'll find in this fanfiction, check out her blog, she is great.

The Pompeii mission, Mobius thought it would have been an easy one. Everybody knows what should happen in Pompeii and it's usually all natural. You just have to make sure someone dies- eh, sorry Plinius- and someone lives.

It's an easy mission, normally, but not when you have to handle a certain norse God of Mischief. One who likes to throw a tantrum on every other occasion.

It's usually nothing more than bantering, playful and witty at its best, sharp and bitter at its worst, but it's something Mobius can handle. He can even enjoy it, when he makes a stupid joke and Loki tells him how stupid it is and they both chuckle. Loki has to learn something new about being a TVA agent and most of the times he makes a fool of himself before getting the thing right, so Mobius can tease him a little and Loki will respond sharp as ever, but with a sort of...endearing note in his stubborness.

Those are good days, days Mobius comes back to his apartment with a smile and when he closes his eyes he can still hear the God's laughter at whatever funny thing happened that day, or replay the moment when they looked into eachothers' eyes and they suddenly understood what to do with the mission, with a single glance.

Today was not a good day. He didn't know the reason. Maybe Loki woke up on the wrong side of the bed, maybe Mobius accidentally made an unpleasant comment, but the norse God started their mission with a pout you could see on the face of a child when they don't get the Christmas present they wanted.

"Oh well" Mobius had thought. Oh well, it's just another bad day, a day in which he had to watch his mouth, because you don't want to deal with an angered God. The general mood was low, the Minutemen looked already tired before the mission had even started and Mobius knew from the moment he passed through the portal he wanted to come back home as soon as possible.

But this wasn't an ordinary bad day. Mobius was prepared to deal with a bit of coldness, with a lack of enthusiasm from everybody, what he wasn't ready to deal with- he didn't want to deal with Loki acting like an asshole.

"And that's it? Really?"

"What did you expect me to say, exactly? You brought me here, you told me I was living a delusion and you gave me no choice other than being your hound. I apologise if I can't think of you as one of my dear friends."

"One of your dear friends? Who would the others be? Just curious, because I have seen your entire life and there is not one person, except maybe Thor, you actually build this strong and trusting relationship with-"

"Wonderful, so why did you expect you'd be the first one I'd decide to grant the gift of my friendship to? I am not even your colleague, I am subjected to this stupid organisation and to you in particular. We are not friends, we forcibly work together and that's it."

Mobius and Loki had been speed walking during the entire discussion, but Loki stopped for a moment.

"You can't fool me, I know very well I am not anything more than your ticket to the Variant. I'll be damned before I put my trust in you, we both know, after all of this has come to an end, nothing will be between me and that resetting stick."

You see, on an ordinary bad day, this would have never happened. On an ordinary bad day, Mobius wouldn't have seen all of his efforts to build a decent relationship with Loki shattered. Was he used to a suspicious Loki? Yes. To a Loki who said that trust is for dogs and children? Also yes. He had been used to that Loki since he first opened up his file. But he had also started being used to Loki's rare moments when he opened up, to his hidden heroic side which desperately seemed to call for attention, to his awkward, genuine reaction when he was showed any form of affection. Mobius had seen Loki spitting his "trust nobody" one liners with less and less convinction everyday, and then they were only mumbled comments to keep up a façade, and then they had become whispers, and then eyes rolls, to the point that Mobius had thought Loki had started warming up on poeple- warming up on him. But he was wrong. Just because Loki didn't voice his dissent, it didn't mean it wasn't there.

It didn't mean he saw Mobius as more than just enemy, even after everything they had been through, even after Mobius took on himself the risk of whatever would have happened to Loki and because of Loki, even after the trust he had shown him, even after the laughters and the lunches and the jokes and the stolen glances- now, look at who was the delusioned one.

Did this upset Mobius? Absolutely. But it also fired him up. Frustration, anger, embarrassment, Mobius erupted with a fiercety matching the volcano explosion just minutes ago.

"Do you really think I would just let them reset you?"

Although shorter than the God, Mobius stood up in front of him looking him in the eyes.

"After all I have done to keep you alive, after all we have been through, do you believe I'd just abandon you to your de-"

"What else would you do? Keep me with you, as your 'friend'? What, you took pity on me and were planning to give me a desk so I can spend the rest of my eternity working for the same people who robbed me of my future?"

"Now stop it, you two, the passage is open, we need to leave" said Hunter B-15, but Loki and Mobius didn't seem to have any intention of listening to her, so she just signed at the rest of the group.

"Come on, hop through it, they'll come when they're ready" she ordered. She waited for the Minutemen to go through the passage, she looked once again at Loki and Mobius and she shook her head, following her collogues back to the TVA. She closed the passage, aware that Mobius could have opened another when he wanted to.

"Just because you are a selfish, uncaring bastard it doesn't mean we all have to be. Is it so difficult for you to accept some people care about you? Like your mother or your brothe-"

"Don't you dare talking about them, you know nothing about them-"

"I literally know everything about them-"

"And stop pretending you care about me or trust me, I am the God of Illusions, I know all your stupid tricks, I used them before-"

Loki and Mobius were shouting very loud, they barely heard the footsetps of someone approaching. A Variant, not the Loki Variant, another one, an enemy of the TVA, probably.

Mobius noticed them in the corner of the eye and turned around fast enough.

Loki was not minimally done with the discussion, but if Mobius was looking away from him, something must have happened.

Loki has been in battles. Battles on Asgards are usually more "traditional" than what you see on Midgard. Sure, they can use magic, but it's mostly swords and axes and arrows and, sometimes, good old-fashioned punches. When he had been on Midgard, Loki had learned war had incredibly evolved. The glorified Midgardian technology changed the face of battles. He had seen a few of the new weapons, nothing that impressive, incomparable to magic. But he remembered them very well, he knew he was not a good idea to underestimate them. So he remembered the sound of a bullet. It was loud, violent, fast. It lasted a few seconds, and then there was silence. If you aim right, your enemy is not just wounded, he's already dead.

They both turned to see the Variant pulling out a gun, and then Loki heard it.

The sound of a bullet.

He shoved Mobius away, before the agent could do anything about it. Mobius heard the sound of a bullet as well, he heard Loki moan in pain and he knew he hadn't been fast enough. But he made up for it pulling out his gun as well, shooting the Variant right in the chest, it only took one bullet to kill him.

Mobius was suddenly grabbed by the arm by a bleeding Loki, who was trying to stand up in vain.

Mobius kneeled next to him, holding him and putting his head on his lap.

Blood. So much blood. The bullet hit the stomach. A normal bullet? You take him to the hospital and chances are he'll be fine. A bullet like that, with a venom release? Kills you in a matter of minutes.

'He is not going to survive' a voice declared in Mobius's head.

He had seen scenes like this too many times to ignore the truth, even if he was desperately trying to. So many missions ending up with corpses, Mobius had witnessed so many deaths like this. It was useless to try and save them, the most merciful act was to immediately reset them to spare them the pain.

But not with Loki. Mobius had already started pressing on the wound, trying to stop the blood.

Useless, all of this was useless.

Loki was uttering verses more than words, normally at this point he would have neen already unconscoius, but the whole being a God must have come with some sort of enhanched healing capacity.

"I am not...ugh, not surviving this?"

"No, no, you are, I just have to take you through the passage-"

"I am...the God of...lies, I know one when I heard...one" Loki coughed.

No, no, no, one thing was seeing Loki dies in a stupid video, another was to witness him dying between his arms, Mobius thought. He couldn't bear this.

Loki looked so scared. He didn't even have the strenght to talk to pretend he was fine with this, he accepted this death. He just looked pained and frightened. He tried to tighten his grip around Mobius's arm, but he couldn't, he was loosing too much blood too fast.

"He looks so young, God, he looks so young" was all Mobius could think. He had seen Loki die, he had seen him a hero, a son of Odin, a troubled man with a controversial life, but this Loki, he was too young. He was just learning what his life could amd couldn't be, he still hadn't make up with Thor or heard his father tell him that he loved him. There was an entire future for him ready to be rewritten, he couldn't die in that moment, he couldn't die on him.

"Aren't you...you tired of watching...me die..."

"You are not dying, Loki, we just have to press on the wound for bit longer, enough for it to stop bleeding, then I'll take you through the passage and-"

"It's always...so pathetic..." Loki coughed again "of a scene..."

Mobius looked around him for another piece of cloth to press on the wound. He had already sacrificed his jacket, but, in absence of anything else, he ripped part of the sleeve of his shirt and pressed it on Loki's stomach. The white cotton was soon impregnated by dark red blood.

"At least...both times...I died for someone I-"

Loki coughed again, exhaling his last breath.

Mobius stopped pressing on the wound. He stared at Loki's corpse in a silent horror.

His body wasn't cold yet, the blood was still flowing, but he was dead. Loki was dead.

Mobius conceided himself a few seconds to fully realize there was nothing left to do. He wanted to scream, but his mouth didn't emit any sound.

His hands still rested on the wound, wet woth blood.

"It should have been you, is that what you're thinking, isn't it?"

Mobius reluctantly teared his gaze off Loki's corpse, to meet the eyes of another God Mischief, one alive and on the run.

Towering over Mobius with his dark cloak, the Dangerous Variant casted a shadow on the two TVA agents. He then kneeled beside Loki's corpse.

Mobius looked at him is disbelief.

"Why are you here?" was all Mobius managed to say.

Why are you here now? Where were you five minutes ago, when Loki was still alive, when you could have done something? How are looking at your own corpse- they were, after all, the same person- without any anger, or surprise or shock?

Mobius wasn't scared of the Dangerous Variant, on the contrary. Although TVA insisted on branding him as this big enemy, he had on several occasions helped him and Loki out, even saved them from some very bad situations. He had never constituted a threat for him or Loki. Sure, he was a mass murderer, but that was kind of a Loki characteristic in general.

"Okay, here's the deal" said the Variant, without looking away from the dead body "You use your...your- ah, what's its name, the- the remote to go back in time, I'll take his place and it's happy ending for everyone. Except for me" he mumbled "but that was mever in the plans, wasn't it" he smiled bitterly, pushing a lock of the dead Loki's hair away from his face.

"What?" Mobius exclaimed.

"Just do as I say" the Variant kept looking down at the corpse "You turn back time, I take the bullet, you two live, I die. It's easy, Mobius."

"How the hell should this be easy?" Mobius shouted, prey to grief and confusion "Why would you do that? What's- what's the meaning of this?"

The Variant had been willing to lend a hand in moments of need, but he was no suicidal.

Finally, the Variant pried his eyes away from his other self and looked at Mobius.

"You asked me once why I was doing what I was doing, remember?" he began.

Mobius slowly nodded.

“Killing TVA officers, trying to destroy the system" the Variant continued "It was just... revenge. Against the TVA. For taking away the thing I cared the most about."

He then looked Mobius in the eye, with a strange intensity, some sort of regret.

"...I was that Loki"

He looked once again at the corpse.

"Then they killed you." he paused.

Mobius didn't say a word, but he kept looking at the Variant astonished.

"And I decided it was time to stray from my written path again. Because nothing else mattered anymore, except making them pay for what they did and making sure what happened to you in my past... did not happen in your present."

The Variant idly run a bony finger over his other's self pale cheek. He then raised his eyes at Mobius.

"I will take his place because he still has you" he then declared "and he still has time to accept" he made a small gesture with his hand, encompassing his dead alter ego and Mobius "whatever you’ve got going on."

Mobius looked at the Variant ever so bewildered, but the Variant simply closed his eyes for a few seconds, looking for the right words.

"He still has time to tell you...all the things I never said." 

The Dangerous Variant was on his knees, teary eyes and a lump in his throat, but he then stood up and cleared his stance. Despire the shaken voice, he proclaimed with all the courage he seemed to own: "I am Loki of Asgard and I am burdened with glorious purpose." He screamed that to no one in particular, or maybe just to himself.

Mobius had been shocked into silence until that moment. Still looking at the Variant, he stood up too, hesitated for a moment then extends his hand to Dangerous Variant. The other one looked at it for a moment, and then firmly grasped it, shaking it.

Mobius was still very confused over what has just happened- what was going to happen.

"Are you sure?" he asked "You...would die. For good. I- I don't think there's a way everybody can get out safe from this- even if you consider time travel and-"

"I know. That's why I am doing it. So that you two get to live, you still has reasons to do it." the Variant said, no hesitation.

"I was right, you know," Mobius said, still reluctant to leave Loki's hand- the moment he did, the Variant would have to die. It was still hard for him to sentence someone to death. But his lips curled into an almost amused smile, even though with a note of sadeness "You're not a villain."

The Variant snorted- oh, Allfather, he had missed Moby's antics- and rolled his eyes, then looked at Mobius again, trying to hide his amusement. You had to have a sense of humour to live his life, Loki thought, there weren't many moments to laugh in his existence, he had to learn to appreciate rare moments like those, when fate graced him with the last sight of the love of his life.

"Turn back the clock, Mobius."

After a slow nod, his hand still in Variant Loki's, Mobius did as he was said.

***

Two days later those events, ut was a good day. In the previous two days, the TVA had finally declared that one of his most wanted Variants was not a problem anymore. Mobius simply stated he had "been cared about", with a hint of sadness nobody cared for. Loki had been quite shocked to witness his death, he had tried to do something for him, but Mobius had looked at him the way he rarely did- with resignation. Nothing left to do. He had offered Loki to spend some time together after the whole thing, to buy him a drink if he needed, to simply listen to him or leave him alone, if he wanted to. It wasn't easy to be a spectator of their own death.

Loki had recovered quicker than Mobius would have thought. Sure, you could still see Loki lost in his train of thoughts when he was left on his own, but he had seen himself die once, he could handle twice.

"Paperwork. To distract you. As a treat." Mobius put on his desk a stack of papers the size of an encyclopedia.

Loki frowned: "And you call this a treat?"

"Well, you can always go help Casey cataloguing the infinity stones, if you like it best" Mobius chuckles.

Loki mindlessly started playing with the Tesseract on his desk- yes, they let him keep it. After all, it was no more than a glowing blue lamp at the TVA.

"Mh, whatever" Loki sighed, picking up a paper, still glaring at Mobius.

"Oh, you have to file these for the end of the day, which gives you around...hmm, something between one and four hours in earth time, I don't remember now. Good luck." Mobius added before starting to walk away.

An irritated "what" that was probably heard in the entire pocket reality of the TVA made him stopped in place. Mobius couldn't help but smile, but he didn't turn around.

"You must be joking! This is- this is unacceptable! What is even supposed to mean between one and four hours? I may have king ambitions but you are the real tyrant!" Loki shouted.

"Oh, Loki" said Mobius, finally turning to face the God "This is very flattering, but I am no more than a mere bureaucrat."

"Yes, and the worst kind." the other replied. He then looked around him, noticing that everybody has stopped whatever they were doing to listen to his shoutings. With a faint flush on his face, Loki sat back in his chair, just after glancing at the whole room and snarling a "What are you looking at?"

He then looked back at Mobius, sighing a "I hate you so much".

Mobius simply smiles.

"Sure you do, kitten."

I am sorry for the spelling mistakes, I tend to make a lot of them and also I am not a native english speaker, so I hope I everything I wrote makes sense.

[kpopisthereasonihavenolife]

k.taehyung/reader 

genre: arist!taehyung, painting!reader, parallel/horror universe

warning(s): violence, mannequins+paintings coming to life (bc ppl are scared of that), blood- but like red paint instead, horror/dread/action elements (i tried okay), bittersweet 

words: 20.3k 

One-shot | Two-shot | Series | Drabble | [Rated: Pg:15] 

Loosely based on Ib, an RPG Horror/Adventure game + Leia (Vocaloid)

synopsis: Taehyung, a freelance, abstract artist is in the middle of one of the worst art blocks known to mankind.  In an act of possible inspiration, he drags his best friend, Namjoon, to a new art gallery just opened.  Only, he didn’t know that his visit would result in him getting separated from his friend and thrust into a new gallery.  One he wasn’t familiar with in the slightest. Along with this mysterious new gallery, a collection of strange creatures lurking around every corner came with the unsettling territory. 

a/n: i literally started this in March of 2019.... I have no excuse for the wait other than my bad.  Regardless, Colorblind is FINALLY done and out! It’s obvs waayyy longer than I intended it to be back in 2019 when I could only pump out like 9k at max- it’s over double that now LOL. But that hopefully aint gonna stop y’all (pls, lmk what you thought/thnk, i’m so anxious about this one alsdjf)

“Here you are, gentlemen.  Enjoy your visit to the gallery,” the receptionist at the counter smiled as she would to anyone.  Handing over two pamphlets to the two men who stood in front of her.  One was dressed in white track pants, two stripes running down the legs.  A white, collared, button-up shirt with a tie exceptionally loose around his neck with a blue, track jacket with red and white stripes down the sleeve, matching his track pants.

The other man wore loose black pants around his hips.  A black and white vertical striped, sleeveless jersey with three buttons on the collar with a red cap placed backward on his faded orange-haired head.  

These two men were two Kim’s. Taehyung and Namjoon.  Taehyung works as a self-employed, freelance artist; throwing and brushing paint over a canvas in random ways and creating objects and places for his mind to be free in abstract ways.  Namjoon is a humbled journalist for a local news blog for his exceptional wording and phrasing on all sorts of topics.  

Taehyung had come to the new gallery opening not too far from his home in search of inspiration.  He had been in a bit of a slump lately, and with nothing to do and nothing worthwhile happening, he was desperate.  Namjoon tagged along because he was tasked with the job of writing a review of the new establishment and creating a small article to include in the next online publication.

“Welcome to the grand opening of The Gallery of Leia!”

Taehyung mumbled to himself as he read the title of the pamphlet given to him.  “Why Gallery of Leia?” He questioned the name as the receptionist answered promptly.

“Leia is the one surviving piece of an artist from way back when that survived a brutal fire.  In honor of its survival, the gallery was named as such.”  She said with a smile as Taehyung nodded and nudged Namjoon’s arm, who stood next to him.

“Let’s go,” he said as he walked inside, not trying to stick around for more conversation and holding up the line of people also trying to gain entry inside. Namjoon following him as he quickly scanned a the front of the pamphlet.  

The gallery was two stories in a decent squared size building.  It was quite the exercise trip in Taehyung’s opinion.  Sculptures were placed against walls or out in the open for rotational viewing pleasure.  Paintings and sketches were hanging, littering the walls for guests to see clearly.  All the different pieces from all sort of artists featured here was amazing, such a wide variety as Taehyung’s eyes scanned the names.  Some familiar, some not.

“Wow, this place is pretty busy,” Namjoon said as he looked around. Namjoon had pulled out a tablet from his side bag, turning on the large touch screen as he took the pen attached to the side of it and opened up a program for taking notes as he started scribbling.  Taehyung peeked over his shoulder.  

“You haven’t even seen any art yet.  Why are you already jotting stuff down?”  

“It’s always good to start an article with how packed or how empty a place is.  The more people there, the more popular or interesting to the masses it is, which normally leads to more pros than cons.  It’s like a first look into how interesting it may or may not be.”  He rambled off like he’s answered the question a million times.  Taehyung nodded with pouted lips.

“You’re such a workaholic.”  Namjoon rolled his eyes at the remark, placing the pen between his fingers as he held his tablet and lowered it to his side.

“Let’s go look around.” The gallery itself, aside from the art pieces inside it, was stark white.  White ceilings to match the white walls and tiled flooring in yet more, polished white.  The lights weren’t as strong as one would think for a gallery, but if they were any brighter the receptionist would need to hand out complimentary sunglasses along with pamphlets because of all the lights bouncing off and around from the white  interior.

Namjoon was busy looking at a large-scale sculpture of a red rose as Taehyung wandered around not too far from him.  He turned down a hall that was surprisingly void of any warm bodies. He was surprised to find an area that hadn’t been cluttered with people yet.  Though, he assumed it wasn’t all that odd considering the early morning hour.  

Along the left wall was a large, long canvas, easily engulfing a vast majority of the wall itself.  It also happened to be the only piece in this dead-end corridor.

Taehyung stood in front of the painting as he looked over it.  Trying to see each and every detail.  He was in awe of the detail and how much time it must have taken to even complete such a large painting.  The dedication and time served to it was admirable.

The painting gave off an eerie vibe.  A dark background with what seemed to be the space of a studio, a spacey and wide studio with canvas’s on walls, frames hanging, paints and easels littering the space leaking into a greater mass of a space with even more dark, distorted art. As he continued to look at it, he stopped to blink, reset his eyes and rub at them so he didn’t go crosseyed and get dizzy.

As Taehyung gazed at the whole of the masterpiece, Namjoon strode up to him.  He whistled lowly in an impressed awe.

“Damn. That's one dedicated, dead painter.”  He walked to the plaque underneath the frame, kneeling so he could read the title of the particular piece aloud.  “Parallel Reality. Painted in 1996 by-” he couldn’t finish because the hall suddenly darkened.  Namjoon and Taehyung both looked at the ceiling and the flickering lights before they blacked out completely. Leaving the room dark and quiet.

“A blackout?” Taehyung questioned. Namjoon stood up, walking back over to his friend.  

“We should go back to the front desk.”  Taehyung nodded as the two of them began the journey back, stepping carefully and squinting to make sure they wouldn’t run into any sculptures or walls.  All the while, never once running into another person.  In fact, the entire gallery was completely silent besides their footsteps.

“Where is everyone?”  Taehyung asked, his eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness.  

“I’m sure they’ve all gathered outside.  No point in staying in a dark gallery.”  The two made it to the front glass doors.  “It’s… dark outside?”  Taehyung looked out through the glass doors.  “It was just noon?”  Namjoon shook his head, pulling on the door, but the door refused to open.  “It’s locked!”  He grunted, yanking again, pushing and pulling on the door.  Nothing.  Namjoon sighed as he turned to Taehyung.  “Go look around, maybe someone is still here.  In the meantime, I’m going to try and get this door open.”

Taehyung nodded before he turned and walked back into the gallery.  The halls still dark, every window showing nothing but a dark, deep navy outside.  He walked to a window to look outside, maybe get a glimpse of what was going on.  But, nothing.  

He turned and walked away, but jumped when he heard someone banging on the glass of the window he had just left.  Running back, he could just barely make out the imprint of a wide handprint on the outside of the glass.  It made a chill run up Taehyung’s back. 

For a moment, he assumed it was Namjoon who had gotten out and was getting his attention to run to the front and get out.  So, he did, dashing to the entrance and when he didn’t see Namjon around any longer, he tried the door.  Still locked.  

He hissed as he whipped back around and went back to the window before he shook his head. As he walked around the gallery further, his eyes began adjusting to the darkness and eventually he was even able to make out some of the art pieces again.  

A painting of a black cat.  One of a man hanging upside down by his ankles.  A basket of fruit that he swore use to have an apple included in the basket.  The back of a woman dressed in nothing but red.  

He felt like he was walking in circles. More than ready to head back to just sit at the front until someone came- since someone had to at some point, he heard another set of footsteps.  At first he thought it may be Namjoon coming back to find him; however, the footsteps were too light to be his friends- he always was a bit of a heavy stomper. Taehyung turned and headed towards the steps as they seemed to move further from him instead of towards him.  

“Hey!”  He called into the echoey halls of the dark gallery. The steps halting momentarily before they started running.  So, Taehyung sprinted after them.  “Where are you going?!”  He yelled as he ran into an open, large venue.  He looked around as he ran, seeing no one around.  “Where are you?!”  He shouted before he stepped in a puddle.  No, not a puddle.  A puddle would only be an inch or two deep.  It surely wouldn’t be enough to engulf him entirely.  

Now, Taehyung was sinking.  Drowning slowly into the Abyss of the Deep before the lights flicked back on and the murmurs of people resumed.

-x-x-x-

When Taehyung woke up, his head was throbbing, his mind was fuzzy and his conscience more than a little confused.  Laying on his chest on the floor like a jersey-dressed starfish, he groaned as he pushed himself up to support his torso on his elbows.  His hair was messier than before as his bangs threatened to poke his eyes.  Looking back and forth, he was in a hallway.  The corridor was dark, a hint of purple and indigo surrounding the entire room.  Walls, carpet, ceiling everything was the same shade of purple.

Obviously, the polar opposite than the pure white of everything previously.

Rolling onto his back and pushing himself to stand, he wobbled as he held his head and tried to will away the headache that was beginning to slowly lessen.  

Going backward before trying to even round the corner down the way, he found a single wooden door at the dead-end of the hall.  Twisting the knob, he entered the small room.  The room was square, red and on the back wall was a single large painting of a woman.  Her eyes were closed and her face was blank.  Her hair was somehow painted off the canvas, down past the frame and onto the wall like it was real hair falling out of the portrait.  

In front of that portrait was a single small wooden table with a vase.  In that vase was a single, blue rose.  A rose with 10 large, vibrant petals and a vine that lacked thorns.  Taehyung had never seen a blue rose before- well, not a real, authentic one anyways. Everyone’s seen the fake, painted blue, red, pink, yellow, purple and whatever other color roses in dollar stores before. Thinking it was manmade, he examined it further, putting his hands on the table to close inspect.  He became far more interested in the flower the more he looked at it.  

It drew him in.  The color captivated him and the aura around it seemed almost important and he felt the slightest urge to pick it up.  Maybe he should, maybe it would be fine.  Reaching out slowly, he drew the rose from the vase and something akin to a jolt of electricity ignited his fingertips. It felt like he had somehow forged an instant connection with this flower as soon as the end of the vine left the crystal clear water of the vase.

Call him crazy, but he almost felt fearful of putting it back and leaving it behind.

The vase on the table cracked as Taehyung’s attention shifted to it from the rose.  Crack after crack spread on the vase before it burst into pieces.  Taehyung hunched backward to shield his face with his arms from the exploded glass.  Shards of glass sat on the table and fell to the floor as the water pooled around the wooden surface and continued to spread as it began to drip off the table’s edge onto the carpet.

“I guess, I’ll take it along.”  He muttered to himself as he turned his back.  As he exited the room, he failed to notice the woman’s portrait shift.  Her eyes opened wide- almost insane- as she smiled.  PItch black paint writing appearing under her frame in smeared text.  

WHEN THE ROSE WILTS, SO TOO WILL YOU WILT AWAY

Taehyung left the room and the hallway he returned to had changed from what he last remembered. There were random letters on the ceiling and floor, spelling something that Taehyung couldn’t make out in the dark hall.  At his feet, he felt himself kick at something when he moved to step forward.  Picking it up, he held a small blue key in his palm.  

Going further down the hall, he came to a forked path.  He could continue going down the hall or take the staircase he that presented itself to him.  The stairs lead up higher than he could see with two paintings on either side of the entrance. Two landscapes of a mountain range; one normal and the other an identical copy, only negative scaled.  Coming to a decision, he took the hall just to cover the ground floor.  Coming to just another dead end, he returned and took to the stairs up.  

At the top of the stairs was a door.  Trying it, it was locked. 

“Naturally,” he huffed.  Trying the key he had kicked with his shoe and picked up not too long ago, it fit perfectly and unlocked the door as he stepped through it.  The door slammed shut and locked on it’s own behind him.  The key becoming useless since their was no keyhole on this side of the door.  He dropped it, leaving it behind. 

He was in a library now.  It was a small room, maybe not even considered a library.  Just a room with bookshelves and books.  Like a compact study without a desk.

He didn’t recognize a lot of the books- which was surprising considering he did have a liking for reading.  He stopped scanning his fingers over the spines of books when among all the thick, sophisticated books was a tiny, thin spine of a bright red children's book.

Pulling it out from it’s snug place on the shelf, he held it in his hands.  It was a short, wide book with a picture colored very messily in what he could only assume was crayon on the cover of it.  Sitting on the ground, his back against the bookcase, he opened it’s thick, card-stock, wobbly pages.

The book was about a painter.  He had been painting his whole life, so long in fact that he started to blend his world with reality.  He would give his paintings ‘life’ and he’d treat them like they were truly alive.  In his mind, they were his friends.  

A painting of a lion toy no bigger than the size of a book, stills of sentient objects like a fan, and even paint brushes contained souls with a conscience and mind to this painter. Even a can of pressurized air that would ‘bully’ or tease the others when they least expected it was ‘alive’, leaving the painter to rip that painting of air up for it’s rotten behavior.

It ends with the painter creating a portrait of someone, something he wasn’t familiar with painting.  People weren’t his strong suit and as such, he was left in isolation for most of his life. His devotion to painting left him alone in reality because he ‘saw’ nothing else.  Thus, he created his own friend in a painting of a woman that didn't exist.  When she ‘came alive’ he even grew to fall in love with her.  The last few pages of the story were torn out, so Taehyung would never know the ending.  

“Who would fall in love with something they knew was fake?  Something painted would never come alive,” he muttered.  Considering the painter in the story to be an utter fool.

Taehyung suddenly jumped, children’s book sliding off his legs and snapping shut as the door to his left unlocked with a loud clack.  He slowly got up, picking the book back up taking it with him as he put it back on the shelf.  The door that unlocked started to whine.  The handle was rusty sounding as something from the outside started turning it.  

In a very logical fit of panic, Taehyung rushed and grabbed the thickest book he could find and held it at the ready.  Absolutely ready to whack whatever weirdo came into this room, knock them out (with luck), restrain them and then question where the hell he was. That, or a hit and run would work too.  He’d figure out which suggestion when the time came in a few moments.

The turning of the knob halted.  Stopped for so long that Taehyung thought whatever it was had gone away.  Lowering his book, he squinted his eyes at the door.  It was quiet, all he could hear was his breathing with the occasional nervous gulp of his.  

There was only but another beat of silence before chaos erupted.  

The door busted open, nearly ripping off it’s handles.  Taehyung, with a short, shocked scream, stumbled back as two things threw themselves into the room.  One was a woman, or rather half a woman.  Long brown hair cascaded down her head and her torso was decked in a red turtleneck.  Her face had a twisted demeanor etched into what would probably be a beautiful face otherwise.  From her waist down was nothing but a picture frame.  Her lower half didn’t exist and was replaced with a black void background and frame with gold edges.  It was like some horror effect that dragged around behind her everywhere she crawled. 

The second was an actual woman.  Legs, arms, chest and all.  Dressed in ruined overalls, a long sleeved white shirt with yellow stripes up the arms.  Tacky, torn brown boots on her feet as she stomped and kicked away at the woman in the frame.  She was wielding... a stick?  Or what looked like what may be part of what was once another picture frame.  End jagged and just asking for someone to get a nasty splinter.

The woman in the frame hissed at her like a dog as her clawed hands moved to drag her across the floor towards the actual woman’s legs.  The framed lady moved faster than Taehyung imagined was possible.  Dragging her half body across the floor and slithering with an absurd amount of grace like a snake.

The lady in the frame latched onto the woman’s leg causing her to in turn repeatedly kick at the frame’s head with her opposite foot.  The frame screamed as she was kicked against a bookshelf.  Books fell, toppling onto the frame as she screeched.  However, her insistent screeching silenced when the real woman took the jagged end of the broken frame she wielded and thrust it into the frames exposed and vulnerable head.

Red ‘paint’ erupted from the frame like a fountain before it became completely limp.  The woman shook the frame piece around, whipping it like a sword after a battle to remove the blood of the slain.  Then, the woman looked over her shoulder at Taehyung. He froze in place, his shoulders jumping at him finally being noticed.

Your eyes widened as they locked onto Taehyung’s. Shocked to see him there.  Your eyes were an unusually bright colored abyss with such a dull contrasting look in them.  He wasn’t sure if he could even see his reflection if he were standing right in front of you.  

You gasped lightly as if being hit with some sort of realization before turning to face him fully. Even if you were a good 10 feet from him he flinched. More than a little bit intimidated with you still holding your broken frame piece and witnessing you pretty much kill what he would label a Feminine Frame Monster.

“You’re the one everyone is looking for…” You muttered to herself.  There was a commotion beyond the door that was hanging pathetically onto its frame.  From down the hall, scraping and screeching were heard in a humming echo. You looked over your shoulder before you moved towards Taehyung, looking at him and grabbing his bicep with little hesitation. You yanked his arm to signal that you were clearly going to be ordering him around.

Taehyung felt like a doll being pulled around by a child.  You were shorter than he expected for someone who just took out a monster as he peered over your head, like a child standing as high as possible to peek out a window. Your grasp on him loosened as you moved to grab his wrist instead.  You pulled him slightly again, snapping him out of whatever daze he was in as he finally looked at you again.

“We need to go.  More of them are coming, and unless you want to end up painting fodder, you’ll follow me.”  He looked down at you as you finally noticed the rose peeking out of his jacket pocket.  You gasped, pointing at it with your other hand that whipped around the red stained frame piece.  “Hide that!” You seethed as Taehyung’s hand immediately shoved itself into his pocket to cover the rose before she began to run out of the room, Taehyung in tow; against his will, might he add.

The halls he was being dragged through were inconsistent and almost gave him a headache. First running through purple halls, then red filled with empty black picture frames.  Zooming through green halls that had arms shooting out of them, claws skimming over Taehyung’s jacket and reaching for his rose.  He pulled it from his pocket and held it to his chest to keep it safe from anyone- thing- trying to grab it.  Finally, your running came to a stop as you swung open a door before shoving him by his shoulder. You slammed the door securely shut before locked it.  

When the door was shut, Taehyung took a moment or two to look around as he tried to regain his breath.  

He was in a blue room now.  Two bookshelves with almost nothing on them and a small table next to a violet couch.  The table held a cerulean vase on it with water filled inside almost to the point it overflowed.  On the back wall was only one giant frame with a pure white puzzle glued one the inside of it.

“A milk puzzle?” He questioned more to himself than anything else. You sighed when it was quiet and then collapsed onto the blue carpeted floor.  Catching Taehyung’s attention, he panicked as he ran to your side, kneeling beside you and debating on whether or not he should put his hand on your shoulder. You panted and pushed your forehead against the door. Hair hiding your face as it hung, falling off your heaving shoulders. “Are you.. Alright?” Taehyung asked slowly- cautiously.

You only nodded as you finally caught your breath.  Sitting up straighter, taking one last breath to even your breathing before you finally looked up at Taehyung.  He knelt higher than your head level as he confirmed that he indeed couldn’t find his reflection in your eyes he stared into.

“You’re the intruder that everyone is looking for in the Gallery, aren’t you?” She questioned.  He blinked in confusion.  

“Intruder?”

“You don’t belong here and you need to get out of here as soon as you can.  This isn’t a place for someone like you.” Taehyung wasn’t understanding anything.  You held your hand out towards him, almost asking for something.  “Your rose. You still have it right?” He nodded as he showed the rose he still held cradled to his chest. He was thankful the vine was thornless, or else his palm would have been riddled with small, painful punctures. 

For some reason, he felt like his rose would be safe with you, so he easily handed it over. You took it and looked over it’s petals.  Admiring the shade of blue, you shifted her gaze to look from beautiful azure petals and into Taehyung’s eyes.  “What’s your name?” You asked.

“Taehyung,” he answered instinctively. You nodded at the sound of it, committing it to memory. “Yours?” 

“I’m Y/n,” you curtly told him as you lifted the rose back into the conversation.  “Do you know how important this rose is?” He shook his head.  You sighed as you moved to face him fully, sat relaxed on the floor. Lifting your arm to bring you opposite hand to touch one of the petals your fingertips dusted around a single soft petal.  You held it with delicacy before your grip changed and your nails gripped and plucked it off the stem.  

Taehyung gasped, a pain shooting through his chest as his hand flew up to grip his shirt. His one-knee kneeling position changed as both knees hit the carpet. 

It felt like his heart just skipped a beat and almost seemed to stall for a moment.  Shaken up, he wasn’t sure why, but it felt almost harder to breathe?  Air came more difficult to take and his energy felt zapped.  The one petal you had pulled off fluttering to the ground at his knees.

You plucked another one, the second petal fluttering to the floor to join the first.  More pain shot through him again as he found himself bracing himself forward, the hand that wasn’t clenching around the front of his shirt, falling in front of him to join his knees on the carpet.  It felt like someone was wrapping a rope around his chest and squeezing the life out of him.  Crushing his ribs and lungs suffocating him.

“What,”  he gasped, “are you doing... to me?” He sputtered as he coughed.  He heard you move before you were at his back, picking him up and bringing him weakly to his feet.  You practically dragged him to the couch, his feet dragging on the carpet the whole way before he fell into the cushions.  

As you stood over him, you pluck another two petals off and he let out small, silent coughs of protest. Whatever you were doing, he was ready for you to stop. He really thought he was dying. 

“Watch,” you told him as the dark bags under his eyes materialized.  You walked to the crystal water-filled vase.  Taking his rose that had lost four petals already, you placed the stem over top of the vase and dropped it inside.  The stem hit the water and immediately Taehyung’s eyes widened as he watched the petals regrow right before his eyes.  

The rose seemed to glow with a calming, almost reassuring, blue hue for but a moment before the pain in his body stopped.  The pangs of hurt disappeared from within his eyes as he let go of his chest and the pain faded.  It was like the pain was just a hallucination.  You slowly withdrew the rose from the vase and handed it back to him as you move to stand in front of him. He had moved from laying in pain on the couch to sitting himself up properly.

Taehyung gently took the rose from you.  “When the rose wilts,” you start.

“So too will I…” Taehyung finishes, unsure on how he knew how to finish the phrase. It was like it was just engraved on his tongue as he said it. The dawning realization that this flower was tied to his life grew into his mind as he spun it between his thumb and forefinger.  “But, I-I don’t understand.”  He shook his head.  You moved to sit beside him, ready to answer whatever questions he has.  “What’s going on? Where the hell am I?”

“You’re in the gallery.”

“No,” he denied curtly, lifting his hand in denial.  “I was in the gallery.  Now, I’m here.”

“You were in the real gallery.  Somehow, you got sucked into this one.  The gallery you were in isn’t where you are now and frankly I don’t know how you got here.  This is a fabricated reality created from a man’s paintbrush.  A human shouldn’t be able to come here.” You got up and grabbed a small, face down picture frame from the top one of the small, dusty, bookshelves.  Bringing it back with you to the couch, you handed it to him.  

Taehyung recognized the man in the photo. “I know this artist. He died a long time ago.” Though his name escaped the young artist.  

“Guena. That’s the pen name he used in his profession.” You looked around at the small room.  “This room, and all the other rooms too.  Every painting and creature here was created by him and his desire to create souls for his non-living creations,” you told him. “But, things are different now. Everything is distorted,” you scowled.  

Just like the picture book he found.  The creations were given life by the hands of the creator then the creator died, leaving all of his ‘lives’ behind.  If that were so, then it would be no wonder why everything would begin to fall apart. It was akin to a circus without a Ring Master. Taehyung furrowed his brows before he placed the photo beside him on the cushions.

He looked up to you, into your dull eyes that somehow held the most breathtaking color.  

“How long have you been here?” He asked.

“I’ve been here since the beginning and I will remain here until the end.”  

“Do you have a rose, like I do?” He felt like he knew the answer, but nonetheless less you shook your head.  He knew what he wanted to really ask, but he didn’t know how to ask it- what words should he use?  To you, who he had just met in the most fictional turn of events that he still can’t wrap his head around.  You were nothing like him and he knew that.

“I’m a painting, Taehyung.”

When you told him the truth he was already beginning to suspect, it wouldn’t be too far fetched to say he still internally panicked.  Something that looks so human, yet wasn’t at all.  You were nothing but brush strokes and shapes somehow given life.  You probably crawled straight out of a frame too.

You saw the emotion flash through his eyes and you were almost jealous of how his eyes could change.  Unlike yours that were stuck, his could tell you a whole story without the use of words.  Anyone in this place could tell immediately he was human because of those eyes. 

In respect to him and his unease, you made sure to keep your distance.  You truly weren’t a threat.  All you wanted was for him to get out, and to get out safely.  You’ve been watching your world fall apart since Guena died.  Every creature that was alive was losing their ‘mind’ and it was only a matter of time before it started to infect you too.  It was a disease that humans didn’t need to get involved in.

“I’m going to be your escort out of here.  With your lack of reaction when in the face of danger, you’d probably get yourself killed in an instant.”  You moved back to the door where you sat on the floor, you're back against the wood as you looked at him across the room on the couch.  “You rest for now and make sure to keep your rose safe with you.  This room is safe, so you don’t need to worry about something happening.”

Then, you stopped talking.  Taehyung almost felt guilty.  You were a painting, and you couldn’t show all the emotions that the could.  You weren’t actually real after all, so it was normal to assume you had a expressional limit.  He watched as you sat against the door completely silent and still with closed eyes.  He was unsure if you were really sleeping or if you even could.  

He looked at the rose in his hands.  This rose is so important and he didn’t know how to fathom what the hell was going on. It all happened too fast and he couldn’t begin to process it all. 

He missed Namjoon as he knew that he was probably still wandering around the real gallery looking for him. He wondered if Namjoon managed to get out since he wasn’t at the front or if the lights kicked back on and he was alright.  He lifted and looked at the photo of Guena beside him again.  

It was odd.  That was the man who somehow created this world and he was also the same painter who created Leia. The painting that gave the real gallery it’s name.  Taehyung never got to see that painting in the gallery- not that he was able too see much to begin with, and he’s not so sure he wanted to at the moment.  

Taehyung was a sympathetic and empathetic person- always had been and probably always will be.  The line between the two blurred in his case.  So, when he looked at you, he felt a sense of guilt as you kept away from him.  You spoke curtly, yet kindly.  You didn’t seem to have an ulterior motive and you seemed trustworthy enough; especially compared to that framed lady from before.  

You brought him here after all. A secluded room and you didn’t attack him or take his rose.  You plucked four petals off his rose, but then turned around and healed him. You even returned it, he knew it was all to prove the point of its importance.  You weren’t going to hurt him and he believed that with his whole heavy-beating heart.  

“Y/n? Are you sleeping?”

Your eyes remained closed, but you answered. “No. I can’t.  I’m a painting, remember?”

“Okay. Then, I have a question,” he said as you slid your eyes open.  Looking at him from your place by the door.  “That thing you killed?” Did you kill it? Could paintings die?  “What was it?”

“They’re called, The Ladies.”

“They? There’s more?” Taehyung’s voice slightly quivered at the idea of more hissing, hacking, floor-crawling, psycho half ladies being out there.  

You nodded.  “What you saw was only one of many Ladies.  She was a Lady in Red.  There are also Ladies in Green and Ladies in Blue.  They’re more common than most.  About as common as mannequins.”

“Excuse me? Mannequins?” You looked at him as a shiver ran up his body.  Goosebumps littered his covered skin.  “I fucking hate mannquins,” he seethed unconsciously to himself.  The look he put on his face was that of disgust and pure anguish and yet somehow twisted into an almost comical look.  You almost smirked at his foul language and facial cues.

Your smirk twisted and soon you burst out into laughter at his face that just seemed so comical to you.  A face someone like you couldn’t pull off because you were fake.  He looked at you as you laughed at him.  The tension that was in the air seemed to be shattered like a nail being driven into a pane of glass.  Soon, Taehyung was laughing at you laughing at him.  Your fit ended as you smiled and shook your head, calming down.  

Taehyung was more than happy to try and get a small nap in now that he knew that you weren’t completely devoid of emotion.  Someone, fake or not, who can laugh and smile like that surely wasn’t a bad person.  

-x-x-x-

Taehyung was startled from his small rest when a tremor shook the room.  Panicking as he sat straight, rim-rod up, you were already on your feet and looking at the door.  You half expected something to charge inside, even when this place was supposed to be somewhere to rest up and be away from any sort of harm. Taehyung flung his legs off the sofa and stood up so quickly he had a wave of dizziness hit him as he held his head and staggered.  Shaking it off, he was at your side, standing just a step behind you.

“What the hell is that?” He lightly asked, like if he was too loud something would hear him.  You just flexed your arm, the hand around the hardened piece of art frame you kept continuing to wield tightening.  “It feels like the ground is moving,” he looked down at his feet.  Like the carpet beneath him was beating in microbursts.

“It’s a distortion wave.  This happens the weaker this world gets and that means it’s only going to get that much worse outside.” You looked at him. “I hope you have some strength in those arms of yours, because you might have to use it.” Taehyung hated the thought of violence, even if it was against figuratively inanimate objects that weren’t supposed to exist . They weren’t alive, but they were still able to die.  His toes curled at the thought of it. You saw the unease in his eyes before looked back at the door, rotating your wrist and twisting around your weapon. “Just stick close to me and run like your life depends on it.”

The lack of an additional ‘because it will’ was an approved choice on Taehyung’s ears.

You opened the door and outside it was a madhouse.  Even more paintings coming alive.  Some stuck in their frames as they clawed at the air and hissed.  Distorted in sharp and blurred strokes as they swiped.  Ghastly hands and objects plunged from walls and hung from the ceiling.  Mannequins moved far faster than previously and he could hear the hissing and scraping of frames on the floor from the Ladies as they drug themselves across the floor like lethal roaches.

You bolted out of the safe room, Taehyung hot on your heels as he stayed immediately behind you.  You dashed down halls, staying in the center away from the walls and anything reaching for you.  You kept Taehyung at your side, pulling him to and fro away from anything that could harm him if he got too close.  You rounded corners in rushed steps or slides as Taehyung occasionally grabbed the back of your overalls to keep you from skidding into the walls from your unstoppable momentum. You swung and hacked at anything that came close and kept them at bay the best you could with your frame.

Taehyung pointed ahead of you, a set of doors ahead.  

“Go into one of those!” He wasn’t sure where he got off telling you where to go. Especially since he was literally the worse qualified person to do so. You didn’t seem to argue back though, so he continued. “The, uh, the yellow one!” He yelled over the chaos.  You just looked back at him slightly over your shoulder, brows creased.

“Which one is the yellow one?!”  You shouted as he slightly stumbled before he grabbed your wrist and took off, running faster and ahead of you before he stopped at a door of brilliant yellow, pulled it open and pushed you inside, slamming it closed. The room was empty save for a single mirror on the back wall.  Thankfully, yellow seemed to be a pretty safe choice.

Taehyung could always trust yellow. 

“Y/n,” he called as he still held your wrist in his hand and you were hunched over.  You weren’t alive, but you seemed unwell.  “What’s wrong?” He looked at the skin under his hand that showed with the fabric of your long sleeve pushed up your wrist.  He gasped silently when he saw it’s complexion shift into a distortion of ugly, muddle colors before vanishing as quickly as it came.  “What was that?” He shook his head. “No, hold on.  Different question.  Can you not see color?”

“No, I can’t.” You stood back up, yanking your wrist out of his grip.  You looked at your skin as you hissed.  The distortion was starting to hit you and the stages would eventually progress into a problem- but he didn’t need to know that.  “I was painted as portrait by a lonely, selfish painters.  He didn’t think to give me the ability to see color so, I can’t see colors or tell them apart.” You shook your wrist out. “Is that a problem?” 

Taehyung jolted. You were clearly touchy on the topic. He cleared his throat as he rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Uh, well not really . I guess if you have me, I can point out colors for the both of us.  Why didn’t you tell me you were colorblind though?  It would’ve been pretty useful to know before we started running for our lives through some fucked-up haunted house reality check.”

“I didn’t think it was relevant.” You sighed.  You had made it this far without relying on the colors you couldn’t tell apart.  Why would now be any different?  You couldn’t even see the color your body or clothes were- if they had color to them at all. For all you knew, you were all black and white and grey. You walked to the back wall and stood in front of the mirror there, frowning as Taehyung came up behind you.  He was as black and white as you were in your eyes.  

“So, you can’t see any color?” He touched his shirt, opened his jacket and pulled his headband.  He pulled your hair up dramatically and motioned to yourself as a whole in the mirrors reflection. “Nothing at all?”

“Nothing at all,” you confirmed.  “I can conceive the idea of colors, but I’ve never had a proper need to see or tell them apart.  I know when something is a threat and I know when something is not. That’s all that really matters here.” Your indifference was something Taehyung- a painter- couldn’t comprehend.  What kind of painting can’t see their own colors? Wouldn’t that be painful or frustrating at the very least?

“Your shirt is yellow and white,” Taehyung spoke. You looked at his reflection with raised brows.  “Your overalls are faded and nearly ruined, but they’re dark blue and your boots are brown.  Your hair is really pretty and your eyes are too.” He described your outfit to you like you were a child, but he meant well. 

Just saying the color of your clothes didn’t help you grasp the concept of what it really looked like aside from the range of grey and white and black you saw through your eyes. “Maybe that doesn’t matter, but I thought you’d like to at least now,” he muttered.

“Thanks,” you told him quickly as you pulled at your sleeves, fixing and adjusting them to cover your arms properly again.  So, that light shade of grey- nearly white- was yellow? “I've never actually learned what color is what to my eyes,” you told him.  “It’s nice knowing at least one color,” you whispered more to yourself than anything.

So, it did bother you. Taehyung felt something swell like pride in his chest as he was acting the role of teacher.

If it were any other situation and if you were a person instead of a painting, he’d be glad to teach you all the colors he could. He felt it was his duty as an artist- freelance or not- to educate those about all the corners of art.  However, you weren’t real and he wasn’t at home in his studio, but in a haunted gallery of danger.  

Taehyung stepped away from you as he made his way back to the front of the room and the yellow door. He put his ear to the door, not hearing much of anything outside anymore. He hoped that you and he were able to give them the slip- as obvious as a tactic as that was. When he tried the doorknob, however, it didn not twist.  Jammed or locked, he knocked his forehead against the yellow wood in frustration.

“Of course,” he groaned before he turned to see you still standing in front of the mirror in the back of the room.  “Y/n, the door is locked. Unless we have another way out, we’re stuck in here.” He announced, making his way back to you as you seemed to finally break out of your own reflection and look around.  

“There’s got to be something we can trigger to open the door or another way out.  Just look around,” you told him.  You started wandering the room, but Taehyung only stood still, crippling his chin in thought and tapping his toes.  The room was completely empty, what could he possibly miss if nothing was in the room except a single, wall mounted mirror?

He thought of all the cheesy cliches like a floor tile trigger or a secret compartment in one of the four walls of ht boxed room.  However, he wasn’t sure if he had the patience to test out those ideas. 

Taehyung stood in front of the mirror, looking at his own reflection that scowled back towards him in thought.  He scurried away from the mirror in a haste as he yelped when the glass cracked.  Splitting down the center in crooked, ugly cracks and small splinters of glass falling from the mirror.  Your ear picked up on the continuous cracking of the mirror’s glass, unlike Taehyung and before he knew what was happening, you were yanking on his shirt and jacket collar. He choked slightly at you pulling him away from it completely as it shattered.

Bursting from the inside out, glass shot forward before raining down to the hard tile of the room.  What was left behind wasn’t the wall behind the mirror, but a matte black door with a sign hanging on the center of it. 

‘PASSAGE’

“Is that our way out?” He asked skeptically as he stood back up and brushed off his clothes of any stray shards that clung to him.  Looking back, the yellow door you both had rushed through had disappeared.  Nothing, but this black door and the walls remained.  He huffed. “Guess that answers that, huh. Wha- hey!” He called as you had already started opening the black door to enter it.  “What if it’s dangerous in there?!”

“There’s no other option,” you told him, pushing the door open before stepping into the same, thick blackness the door represented.  “Stay here if you’re so scared,” you sarcastically teased as you stepped inside. Unsurprisingly, the artist was hot on your tail inside.

The two of you walked through the black hall that stretched from the door you both entered, Taehyung behind you as he grew in more in nerves.  There were no lights and the light front he doorway was long gone behind his back.  He couldn’t see his hand in front of his face and he felt like he was losing his mind.

He could only hear your footsteps, his footsteps and the sound of your sharpened frame weapon dragging across the ground that you had taken from your belt loop as soon as the darkness became thick enough to warrant a twinge worry.

The air in the ever stretching corridor became so thick it was hard to catch his breath as he moved to grab your wrist for guidance.  Then, giggling began echoing from every direction.  Bouncing off what might be a nearby walls and drilling directly into his head. Giggling that mimicked creepy doll sound effects in horror movies, only so much worse. You, unsurprisingly, weren’t phased by the verbal taunts- Taehyung, however, was.

You could feel the trembles in his fingers around the wrist of yours he held so tightly.  You twisted your wrist, freeing it from his grasp for a moment and you could physically feel his panic the moment his fingertips left your skin. He was quick to calm down when you shot your arm back and grabbed around his hand instead.

Taehyung only grew more and more nervous as the darkness didn’t seem to end.  There was nothing in front of him or behind him to act as a beacon of any sort of hope that it would eventually come to a brightly lit finish.  Not even your presence he knew was there was any comfort to him.  It felt like the darkness was ebbing away at his sanity and choking him. 

In the midst of his silent anxiety, he thought he felt something whisper along the back of his neck.  He let out a small, strangled noise of startled protest as he unconsciously ripped his hand away and out of yours.  His panic set in tenfold now that he had no idea where you were anymore.  

He reached out in front of him in a frenzied panic as he waved his arms around in front of himself like a crazy person. He was sure if he was in light or if someone could see him, they’d think him completely bat-shit insane.  No matter where he reached or how hard he searched, he couldn’t find you. He couldn’t even hear you anymore.

Your footsteps were gone along with the frame dragging and he couldn’t hear anything aside from his own hiccuped gasps of air.  A horrible humming filled his ears and he quickly brought his palms up to the sides of his head, covering his ears to try and block out the noise.  It only seemed to intensify though, as if he had cupped around the humming and shoved it directly against his eardrums.

His knees wobbled and his footing staggered before his knees finally hit the ground.  The hard ground that was below his feet changed the moment his knees collided with it.  

Water was running along the hard ground that now felt like tile. If he ran his fingers along the floor, he would be able to trace the groves of cement and glue holding the pieces of breakable flooring together. He wasn’t able to properly process it in the overwhelming state of mind he was currently becoming more and more trapped in.  

The water that seeped into his pants drew higher and higher before engulfing his knees, thighs and eventually coming to reach his waist. His hands stayed covered over his ears as he shuttered and shook his head back and forth- trying to chalk it all up as another nightmare.  He’d wake up on another couch any moment in a room that you had taken him too.  This was just his mind playing trick on him- wasn’t it? 

The humming grew louder and louder before it went completely silent. The shift in noise to nothing was too sudden; uncomfortably sudden.  He should be relieved that the horrible, horrible sound that drilled into his head had stopped, but he was only accompanied by the newfound silence with a chill running up his spine and staying in the base of his neck .

Taehyung couldn’t move.  He shook and trembled, waist deep in cold water.

Was this what insanity felt like? Was he really losing his mind?

Then he remembered.  He was finally able to move again when he remembered his rose.  The flower that was somehow keeping him up and kicking. He moved his hands from his ears and began to frantically pat around his body.  His chest, his hips and thighs. In and out of pockets. He couldn’t find it.  He thought he had already reached his maximum panic level, but he was oh so wrong.  

He lost his rose and he felt like he was near his breaking point.  He hated that it affected him so much in both a mental and physical sense. Taehyung had normally defined himself as a more or less tough person to break down in more cases. 

He hardly had time to adjust to the life threatening new world he found himself in with art coming to life to kill him. Not to mention that his life was tied to a blue flower and he was dependent on a painting for safety.  

Taehyung was literally walking through his own personal nightmare. Who wouldn’t start losing their marbles after all that? 

His ducked down head shot up when he thought he heard something drop into the flooded flooring. He swore he heard the water ripple as it sounded like someone was walking, or dragging their feet through the water.  The sound of moving water echoed and he couldn’t pinpoint from which direction whatever was around him was moving.  Then the water pushed up his legs like something pushed the water towards him and he froze again.

He felt a breath blow against his forehead, his hair blowing in small, annoying strands that tickled his eyebrows and forehead. Whatever was wading in the water beforehand, was now right in front of him.

His mouth opened like he was going to scream, but nothing came out before the room erupted in bright lights.  He flinched under the extreme difference, the humming coming back to drill into his skull as fluorescent lights lined the ceiling above him.

When he was able to pry his eyes open, they glued themselves open at the sight of the creature in front of him.  It was… he couldn’t even begin to explain what it was.  

It looked like it had the basic shape of a person, but the limbs were far too long and lanky and it was engulfed in a thick looking, black tar that oozed and dripped from it’s appendages.  It’s head was also shaped like a humans, but turned completely sideways. The side of it’s head parallel with the floor as that same, thick blackness dripped from it’s chin that pointed directly to the left.  The mouth was nothing but a white circle in the middle of its face with black dripping between it’s ‘lips’ like jail bars.  

Whatever it was, it was horribly ugly and Taehyung thought his mind was distorting. The space around the creature seemed crackly- like tv static.  

The artist couldn’t move, he couldn’t speak, couldn’t flee.  He couldn’t even scream.  But it could. It could move, it could groan and moan, it could scream.  And it did.  

The mouth opened further into an elongated oval and a set of eyes showed themselves in small, crescents with the ends pointing to the left towards their chin on their crooked head.  The shrill shriek it let out made Taehyung’s bones rattle under his skin, like someone had just run a xylophone stick across his ribs.

It had brought it’s long, thin, dripping arms up as it seemed to ready lunge at the young, fear-stricken artist.  It screeched once more before it began to lunge, but it was immediately stopped in it’s tracks before it could do any sort of physical harm.  

The screech was cut short, as the head- in fact- the entire torso of the creature was pushed down by something.  It fell face first into the water at Taehyung’s knees as a long, golden strip of a picture frame stuck out of the back of it’s head.  

Red paint leaked out of the creatures head as it lay still and motionless in the water, dying the flooded area a shade of crystal pink. The smell wasn’t what he expected- what he expected to smell like iron, blood and death instead smelt of a flower shop, honey and lemonade.  The monster with a frame in the back of it’s head smelt like summer. 

Was it… dead?

Then he heard more footsteps, however with the lights on and eyes properly adjusted now, he could see exactly where they were coming from and who.  It turns out that somehow he had made it into a room- a small cube area that had no windows and only one door that was now thrown open.  Through that door, your body was slouched against the frame out of breath- once again ironic since you weren’t alive- and dripping blue drops of paint from your chin.

He was speechless- no longer from fear, but from shock.  

You wadded through the pink water to stand in front of him.  You turned to the creature you had just taken down by hurling your frame piece at it and quickly pulled the frame out.  Red spurt from the wound like a pathetic, paint-filled fountain. Before long, it was simply oozing and rolling off the skull of the creature into the water before it started to completely fade away like ash.

You looked back to Taehyung who had disappeared previously from your grasp and you knelt in front of him. Waving your hand in front of his face, he didn’t respond.  You looked down and around him to see his hand stuck on the inside of his jacket- like he had stopped looking for something mid-search.  

“Tae-”

“Rose,” he whispered urgently, interrupting you.  You gently dug into the small pouch you had on your side- where you got that, he wasn’t sure- and before a moment longer passed, blue petals were shown in his line of sight.  That seemed to finally start to snap him out of it.  “That’s my,” he whispered, the rest of his words dying on his tongue.

“You dropped it earlier when you let go of my hand,” you told him.  You gently took his hand from the inside of his jacket and placed the flower delicately inside his palm.  “You need to take better care of that if you want to get out of here.”

One, small tear fell from his eye before he was throwing his arms around your shoulders and pulling you towards him.  Your face fell into his shoulder as you felt him shake around you. You raised your arms tentatively and started to pat at his back awkwardly.  

“Don’t worry,” you shushed, as you stared at the back wall. You could hear the ashy pieces of the creature disengerate behind your back as his tremors quelled to shivers and soon he was still and his breath wasn’t ragged anymore.  He had calmed himself down as he squeezed you against his chest.

“Thank you,” he breathed.

-x-x-x-

Once Taehyung was able to move again without shaking or fearing for his safety and he had properly calmed down, you led him out of the room he had been trapped in.  Going down another long hall with nothing but lights lining the walls, he briefly stopped at a plaque on the wall next to another door.  This door wasn’t colorful or odd- it looked so ordinary it stood out among the bright purple hall he stood in.

“Gallery ahead,” he muttered, reading aloud as the sighed at the plaque that had an arrow pointing ahead beyond the door.  

Opening the door, there was no noise and all was quiet.  Taehyung followed you as he looked around.  

True to the plaque, it really was just another portion of the gallery.  Proper paintings on the walls with names below it, statues sectioned off with rope and dividers, mantles with busts- it too looked like an authentic, ordinary gallery.  The door you both passed through shut with a soft click as he looked behind at it still jumpy from earlier on. He was thankful it didn’t slam at least.

The floors were tile and shining like they had just been cleaned and waxed.  The walls were covered in a boring, but oddly suiting wallpaper fit for an aged art gallery while chandeliers hung along the ceiling lighting the place in a soft, glowing light.

“This is a nice break from the rest of the place,” Taehyung told you, catching up to your back as you were making your way through the place.  He came to walk beside you, looking at your eyes that couldn’t see any color.

“It is a section of the world that hasn’t been touched too badly by the distortion. If anything is alive here, it shouldn’t be a threat,” you assured him.  The fact you had put away your makeshift weapon put him further at ease.  He looked back and forth at the walls lined with art.  

This was what he was hoping to experience coming into the real gallery today.

Just browsing around to try and spark something in him to create something new.  To inspire him- not threatening his very life after sucking him into an actual nightmare world. He briefly jumped when a painting of a black cat blinked before it stretched and jumped right out of it’s canvas. He meowed up at him as he rubbed against his leg before scampering off somewhere else.  His padding paw steps disappearing down the hall.

Taehyung almost smiled at that.

The two of you walked in silence, the only sound in the gallery was the sound of both of your footsteps and the occasional sound of harmless art brought to life.  Taehyung stared at your back as you walked ahead of him and he began to wonder.  He wondered about a lot.

He wondered what would happen to you when he managed to get out of this place.  What would happen if he tried to maybe take you with him? Could you survive outside this place since you weren’t really born?  Would this gallery even exist when he leaves it or would it cease to be?

He stopped in his tracks he he caught himself. Why was he even thinking about taking you with him? 

The young artist was ripped from his thoughts when he saw your body jerk forward before you were staggering on your feet then falling to your knees on the tiled floors of the peaceful part of the gallery.

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath as he jogged up behind you.  He placed his hand on the middle of your back as he knelt beside you and dipped his head down to try and catch a glimpse of your face. “Y/n, hey!” He called as your body shook and heaved like you were a living breathing person in the midst of a breathing fit.  You were a painting with a soul, but not really alive so did you breathe? He found himself asking that to himself way too often.  

He shook his head- that wasn’t the thought he needed to overthink right now. “What’s wrong? Talk to me,” he tried coaxing you.

You just shook your hand towards him; whether to shut him up or shoo him away he wasn’t sure, but he didn’t move from your side regardless.  When your arm raised, he saw beneath your sleeve a sort of discoloration. It was just like what he saw earlier in the mirror room.  

He took your wrist in his hand as he pushed your sleeve up when you suddenly fell into him. He jolted as he rolled you to lay on your side- your head lolling off in a way that looked uncomfortable with your shoulder pushing into the ground. He lifted your head, putting it on his leg to try and help you at least a bit.  

You twitched as he examined your skin. It looked like your arm was covered in a horrific bruise.  Ugly splotches of black, blue, purples, greens and yellows engulfed your arm like a tattoo sleeve gone horribly wrong. His brows dipped as he looked at the rest of your arm before he looked at the other.  It was the same thing, but not nearly as severe in terms of color and blotches.  It was like it was spreading.  

“What the hell?” He murmured as you seemed to be calming down.  You pushed yourself of his leg to lay on your back on the ground as your chest stopped heaving and you stopped twitching.  You closed your eyes, focusing on coming back down from whatever attack had ailed you and before too much longer, you were forcing yourself to sit up again. 

Taehyung sat beside you, slowly drawing his hand back and away from you as you pushed your sleeve back down to cover your ruined skin.  He narrowed his eyes at you as you looked back at him.  For someone who wasn’t really alive, you seemed to have bags under your eyes.  Something was straining you and you weren’t telling him about it.

“So?” He asked with a sharp tone as you just returned his word with a sigh as an answer.  He wanted an explanation and he wanted it sooner rather than later.

“It’s not-”

“Tell me or I’m gonna annoy you continuously until you give in. We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

You ticked your eyebrow up at him. “You’re threatening me? You realized I’m the one who’s been taking down everything that has attacked us so far, right?”

“It’s not a threat,” he promised as he crossed his arms sitting on the floor. He looked like a child.  In the end you let out another defeated sigh. There would be no point in arguing with him.  He’d probably run you in verbal circles until he got his way anyway.

“You know how the rest of the gallery is corrupted, you’ve seen it. Everything in this world that is art is affected.” You grabbed the sleeve of your arm as you sat more comfortably.  “Just because I’m fighting against it now, doesn’t mean I’m uneffected.  It’s a distortion that affects the arts- good or bad- and we can’t do anything about it. I’m just stubborn.”

Taehyung sat for a moment before opening his mouth again.

“So, you’re going to turn bad too?” He asked timidly.

“It’s unfortunate, but inevitable.”

“That’s crazy,” he whispered to the floors when his chin dipped down.  He groaned as he brought his hand up to ruffle his lightly colored hair.  You had been protecting him ever since you found him and now there’s a chance you could turn against him too? That was just crazy. You wouldn’t just turn on him like that, right? It’d be gradual and not just flipping a switch from sane to insane, right?

He was pulled from his thoughts again when you moved to stand and he quickly mirrored your actions to stand in front of you.  His arms hovered around your waist and back in order to catch you if you happened to fall again.

“Whatever happens, we just need to get you out of here as soon as possible.  If we find the exit quickly, we can get you out before I completely lose it.” You turned, ready to start walking off again to explore further when Taehyung shot his hand out and caught your arm.

“Wait!” He shouted, the echoes of his voice bouncing off the white walls adorned with art that wasn’t malicious.  “Will you be okay?” He asked even though he really knew the answer.  You had just told him that you were going to eventually turn from who you are now to someone else- one way or the other.

You smiled at him, trying your best to reassure him but didn’t offer him a verbal answer.  You slowly pulled his hand off you before you were telling him to follow you.  His arm dropped back to his side slowly as he looked at your back with sad eyes.  

He didn't know what hurt worse; the fact that you basically just told him ‘no’ or the fact that you didn’t say anything for him to understand because even if your eyes are just strokes of paint, they held so much in them and it twisted his gut.  

Taehyung wasn’t very fond of the idea that he had to leave the peaceful atmosphere of the white gallery and go back out into the one that actively tried to kill him.  His rose was safe in the zipped pocket inside his jacket as opposed to the outside pockets at his sides. He watched before he began to follow you once again.  

The drastic difference between the white, bright gallery and the dark, dim, purple backlight one just from passing through a door still through him for a loop each time he went through another passageway.  He stopped trying to guess what kind of room he’d be going into, because he’d probably guess wrong every time if he did. 

You stayed on guard with your picture frame piece and he stood beside you-more ready to throw down with a sculpture than before- even if he still didn’t want to. He’d tell you what colors were where and lead you in directions if you asked if a certain color was around.  

He briefly wondered how you managed to get around before he got there with your inability to see color, but then he stopped thinking about it because if you just went into a room that was filled with a problem- you probably just got rid of it.  You were more than capable, you’ve proved that more than enough by this point.

“Taehyung,” you called from ahead of him. He had been so lost in thought his steps had slowed down and he was further back away from you than he knew.  “Don’t lag behind.”

“Oh, right,” he called before he was jogging back to your side.  Following you through a doorway, he wasn’t as shocked as he should have been to see a room that was dark with only a trunk inside of it.  Walking in, you stepped up to it before you tapped it with your frame piece to see if something was inside.  

There was only silence before the lid of it burst open.  

You jolted, stepping in front of Taehyung as he raised his hand instinctively to maybe try and throw a punch at whatever might leap out of it, but nothing came out.  The lid bounced against the back of the trunks frame. The inside of it looked like a pink cloud- it wasn’t empty, just unsettlingly pink.  It was like cotton candy or maybe something thicker like thread that could trap you if you touched it.

“What-,” you started before you were yelping into direct fight or flight.  The still pinkness in the trunk jolted before it shot out like sentient strings and separated into long, thick arms of darkened red that wrapped around you and Taehyung’s bodies.  

Your backs were forced together and to your misfortune, your frame was knocked from your hand and clattered to the ground.  The thick strands of red wrapped tightly around your midsections and squeezed as it entangled around your legs and arms and even around your forehead to keep you completely still. Immobilizing the two of you, it then started to slowly reel you in.  

Your feet dragged across the ground and your toes lifted up and off the ground at some point as Taehyung was left to keep fumbling over his own feet.  He wouldn’t fall no matter how tangled his feet got since he was bound and tied so tightly.

The pair of you were stopped in front of the trunk that seemed to bulge in size- like it was taking into account the size of two people before you were swallowed into the cloud of pink turned red.  The sound of the trunks lid slammed above you both boomed like thunder before you were falling.  

It felt weightless, but you could feel the wind rushing past you as you were sure you were coming closer to hitting the ground.  

It was pitch black all around, but you felt Taehyung reach for you- now freed from the strands of red thread that had encased you both. You felt him wrap his arms around your shoulders from in front of you.  His chest pushed against yours before his weight overcame your own and he was falling first in front of you.

The fall wasn’t long and it didn’t feel like enough to particularly kill a person, but when the two of you hit the ground with Taehyung bracing the fall you were quick to shoot up from his chest as he groaned laying on his back.  

“Are you stupid?!” You scolded as he winced both from your shrieks and the pain of the fall. He sat up, rubbing his back as he just weakly laughed.  

“Yeah, so?” Your eye twitched at his lame excuse for a joke at a time like this. As he recovered from his fall and came back to his senses that weren’t cloaked in sensitive fall-stricken shock, you looked around to where exactly you two fell.  

It looked like you were pulled into a child’s coloring book.  Scratchy, uneven lines of what looked to be crayon or oil chalks were used to make up houses, roads and not too far from you both was a mass of uneven, patchy blue chalk that you assumed was a lake of sorts from its size.  It was dark, but it was lit with small patchy lights lining walls or suspending overhead like floating light bulbs.

You made it to your feet after you helped Taehyung, grabbing his hand and offering your shoulder for him to lean on.  He graciously took it and you were quick to ask if his rose was alright.  He dug it out of the inside pocket of his jacket and showed it to you.  A petal or two were missing, but you assumed it was caused from the fall.  

No wonder he hurt so much, you mentally noted with an eye roll; his rose was damaged.  

You looked around and peered over the chalked created houses.  Maybe if you investigated inside one of them, you’d find a vase for him to use to restore his rose petals.  You hiked his arm over your shoulder for a more firm grasp on his body's weight on you.

“Alright, first things first,” you started as you got his attention. “We need to find a vase with water to get your rose to grow.  That should take the pain away.” He muttered in agreement before both of you walked- ambled- off.  

Walking with a body hanging off you was a lot harder than you initially though it would be.  He would walk the best he could, but the injury and loss of his petals were obviously affecting him more than he was willing to let on. 

The first house you both entered was a small one outlined in pink chalk and inside was just one big open room with a drawn, blue couch, a table and a coat rack.  On the table was a vase, but it was empty.  If it wasn’t all black and white to you, maybe you would have found the place almost charming in it’s own way- but it was just dull.

You quickly moved Taehyung to the couch and told him to stay put.  Taking the vase you left the house and quickly moved down the chalked, dirt road down the lake you saw.  Maybe you could put some of the fake water into the vase and just somehow make it work, who knows.

Making it to the lake, you knelt and dipped the vase into the mass of blue as it filled the vase.  Your arm twitched before it was jerked and convulsed with it’s own corruption again and the vase slipped from your fingers for just a moment- but that moment was enough to lose it in the chalky blue mass of scribbles.  

Without much thought, you dove into the water, quickly snatched it back and as fast as possible swam and pulled yourself out of the mass before anything that could possibly be in the lake even thought about grabbing you.  

You huffed in annoyance as your clothes were dusted with chalk and even though it wasn’t real water- you felt damp.  You shook out your sleeves before you got to your feet and went back to Taehyung who was waiting in the house you left him laying on the couch with heavy breaths.

When he saw you, his eyebrow quirked.

“What’re you covered in? Dust?” He asked as you just shook your head, kneeling at the couch side and replacing the vase filled with vibrant blue on the table again.  

“Forget about it. Give me your rose, please.” your hand was outstretched and waiting as he quickly pulled it out and handed it to you. You hesitantly placed the stem into the water and let it sink as the blooms of the petals rested against the rim of the vase.  You heard Taehyung sigh as if his pain was floating away and to your relief, two petals grew once again. “Thank goodness that actually worked,” you sighed.

Taehyung chuckled beside you. “Yeah, no kidding.  That was all assumption- if that had taken more petals off, I think I would’ve passed out or something.”

“You mangled to take four petals of damager before,” you told him. “Besides, you weren’t that injured,” you told him as you took the rose back out of the vase and handed it to him to replace in his jacket. “You just don’t know how to take a fall.”

“Excuse me,” he scoffed in disbelief. “Who was the one who took the brunt of that fall, huh?” He sat up and crossed his arms like a child pouting. “A thank you would be nice to hear, you know.”

Your lips tilted in a smile as you moved to stand up and stretched your arms across your chest.  You felt helpless without your frame piece that you had lost before you wound up here with the young, human artist.  Looking at him like this, you wouldn’t think he’d be in as much danger as he is.  He was in a whole different dimension with enemies at his back almost constantly, but here he was pouting for a ‘thank you’.  You chuckled.

“Thank you, Taehyung,” you told him. You weren’t sure if it was the dim lights or maybe your vision going because of your own distorting body, but you thought you saw the blank shade of his skin to your eyes darken.  Like color had possibly bloomed over his cheeks.

He cleared his throat before you could ask and he was getting up off the couch, walking to the door of the house. He was ready to leave, but stopped short.  You came up behind him and opened your mouth to ask him what the problem was when he spun around and shushed you.  He pushed you back and led you behind the couch, crouching down and covering you with himself as you both hid.

You had no idea what he thought he heard, but you kept quiet before you heard the door of the house you both were in squeak open.  You looked at Taehyung as he looked up, focusing on listening for any indication of someone coming closer to your hiding place.  

You racked your brain trying to think of what or who could be following you both.  Had someone been inside the trunk before you and had seen you at the lake? You weren’t sure.  You heard them pad into the house before they stopped and then a crash sounded through the walls of the room. The footsteps then walked back out of the room and the door slammed shut.  

Taehyung and you stared at each other, still remaining silent for a few more moments before determining you were safe. He let out a breath as he peeked over the couch first and scanned the room.  There was no one.  

“It’s clear,” he whispered as he stood up and moved away from you as you stood up next to him.  Your brows dipped as you saw the vase you had just used to heal Taehyung’s rose shattered into pieces with splashes of blue- grey to your eyes- dusted around the table top and blew onto the floor.  

You looked at the door with a narrowed gaze.  Just what was that? Could something you didn’t know about be wandering around? Then again, even you didn’t know everything there is to know about this gallery. 

“I think we need to hurry,” you muttered, Taehyung quickly agreed as you both scurried out of the house.  The two of you walked along the dusty, chalk paths before you were stepping up a set of stairs back into a proper gallery. It led to a section that you recognized. You started walking with ease, knowing what was where in this section and Taehyung took notice of that.  

“Do you know where we are? I mean, you’ve known a good part of where we’ve been, but I mean-”

“This is my section of the gallery. My frame is hanging around here, so yes I know it.” You told him, interrupting his rambling for an answer to his question.

“Your frame?”

“Yes. You know I’m just a painting. The frame I was placed in and the frame I came out of is around here.”

“Can I see it?” He asked without much thinking before you stopped and turned to him.  He almost slapped a hand over his mouth to keep himself from saying anything else without a filter before you turned on your heel and started off around a corner. “Y/n! Wait!”

“You wanted to see my frame, didn’t you?” You popped your head back around the corner to motion him to follow after you and he did so.  He trailed you- just as he had been- and eventually you took him to a deadend hall.  At the end of it, on the wall facing the rest of the narrow corridor, was an empty frame. “This is it,” you told him, motioning to it with as little care as you would as if you were showing off a bag of dog food.

The frame was silver and engraved with all sorts of weaves across it.  It was sturdy and not undamaged.  The glass of the frame was broken; however it must’ve been broken from the inside if the evidence of the glass at his feet was anything to go by. You must have burst from the inside out and created the glass mess in front of it.  The plaque under the frame read ‘Leia’ as the young artist looked back to you with wide eyes.

“You’re Leia?” He asked. At the discovery he had a pang of small guilt in his stomach from thinking earlier on that he didn’t even want to see the painting since the rest of the gallery was out for his blood. You blinked at him as you nodded simply.

“That was my title when I was created, but I was given a new name because I was granted a soul and free will within this dimension.” You crossed your arms. “Why does it matter what my art piece name is?”

“It's just that the gallery I came from was named after you,” he told you. “I guess I just never expected you to be the last piece of art from someone- not that it’s a bad thing!” He defended at the unimpressed look in your painted eyes. “It was the discovery of that painting that gave my gallery the name it has. You’re like the main centerpiece of everything.”

You looked blankly at your empty frame.  

“I doubt that the ‘Leia’ in the real gallery is like me. I may be ‘Leia’, but I’m more Y/n. It sounds ridiculous, but that painting isn’t me.” You softly traced the silver frame with your fingers before you were turning around again. “Come on, we’ve wasted enough time. No more detours.”

Taehyung was quick to chase after you but he couldn’t think of a thing to say to you.  He wanted to talk to fill the silence that gaped between the two of you.  Taehyung kept telling himself that he had no reason to try and figure you out, you were a painting for God’s sake.  What could he possibly want to know?

Other than everything.

He wondered about a great many things and couldn’t help but overthink what you may or may not have been through.  How did you feel about this world? Did you consider it home or maybe a sort of prison you were unfortunately born into. How did this world look to your colorless eyes? Just how did it feel being a painting exactly? 

When you were ‘born’ and thrust into a world that was already starting to collapse, how did you survive? Did you fight from the beginning, or not? He wanted to ask all these questions, but he knew that he wouldn’t. It wasn’t his place to ask anyway- this world isn’t his and you weren’t even human.

Taehyung followed behind you as a feeling in his gut started to bloom. He raised his hand to his stomach and palmed it through his shirt as his steps slowed and he watched you ever so slowly get further ahead of him.  He felt like he couldn’t do this without answers.  So, he acted idiotically and moronically and selfishly.  

Without you realizing, you got separated from Taehyung once again- only this time on purpose.  The next time you turned around to check on why he was so silent, you stopped in your tracks not seeing him around you.  

“Dammit,” you seethed.

-x-x-x-

Taehyung had back tracked all the way to your empty portrait frame.  He stood in front of it once more as his fingers traced the letters of your plaque. The letters spelling out ‘Leia’ in fine script before he was tracing the frame itself.

He felt selfish for wanting to know about you- a painting- and keeping himself here in a world that actively tried to kill him longer than he needed to be. He scoffed at himself, his mind remembering how he had judged the artist in the book he had read before and how the artist got attached to something like a painting. 

“Talk about the pot calling the kettle black,” he chided to himself.  

He needed to go home and although he understood that, he wanted to know more about the living painting that had been protecting him up until this point.  The same painting who was slowly getting infected with some weird, paint disease that could turn you against him at the drop of a pen.

He knew he was pressed for time. Time was precious, but he couldn’t help but feel like you were too.

Taehyung inspected the black emptiness of the frame that you had come from and reached his hand out.  His hand jerked back when the pads of his fingers weren’t met with the sturdy wall that the frame hung on.  Instead, the blackness encased by the silver frame rippled like murky water.  It was like a pool of ink as he reached out to it again and started to sink his hand into it further.

He wondered how deep that ink went, how far could he reach inside before it stopped him.  Could he be able to submerge himself fully into it, or maybe crawl into the frame like a painting himself.  

“But then, what would that accomplish?” He questioned himself with a half-sarcastic attitude. However, even if he knew it was more than likely fruitless, he started to climb inside anyways.  The frame was big, so he had no problem with grabbing the edges of the frame, lifting his leg over the bottom ledge of it and heaving himself inside the blackness.  

He braced himself, feeling like it would feel like that monster from before that encased him in terror as it threatened his very life.  However, this blackness wasn’t like before.  It was dark and felt endless, but it lacked the deep pit of dread that the monster had.  It felt like something- but he couldn’t place exactly what.

Loneliness maybe? Or perhaps a bittersweet sort of feeling; like being free, yet not being as free as a true human being.  He walked around aimlessly in the blackness, feeling less and less like he was walking on the floor.  He started feeling weightless, like he was walking on air.

There was clearly no end where he was, and he wasn’t so sure if he really wanted there to be.  A light at the end of the tunnel? That wouldn’t apply in this situation and he knew that perfectly well. Or, he thought that would be the case.  From behind him, he started to feel something close by, like the feeling of someone standing directly behind your back.

Whirling around, he saw nothing, felt no one and squinted his eyes as his ears started to pick up on some noise around. It sounded like it was echoing around from every direction, but he was still able to follow it- maybe it was because wherever he was in your frame was a directionless void.

It was nowhere and everywhere all at once.  

As he walked, the blackness started to slowly light up from a greyscale and before long he was standing in a room.  Like, a real room, but in this room he couldn’t touch anything.  He was in a studio- covered in easels, paints, canvases, stains and tarps and cloth and everything in between.  

However, if he even tried to touch something, his hand would just phase right through the object he wanted to grasp. He walked around the studio before the door to the room opened and hobbled in was an older man whose face he couldn’t see.  His face wasn’t even that, it was just black scribbles where the features should have been.  Static echoed around the room as he assumed that the old man was trying to speak, but the words didn’t reach Taehyung’s ears.  

He walked to an easel that was covered with a white cloth before he set up his area and sat on a stool.  He cleaned up some brushes, cleaned his palette and rearranged his paints to suit his needs and wants.

Taehyung watched in silence as the old man began to paint and even though there was clearly a passing of some sort of warped time, in the moment it all felt timeless.  The end result was none other than your own portrait.  He shouldn’t have been shocked to see your spitting image in your portrait, but he couldn’t help it.  

Then the old man just turned his back, his fake face seemingly looking right at the young artist before he pointed at you.  More specifically, he pointed to the white space of your canvas and Taehyung could have sworn he saw it ripple like water.  

The setting of the studio began to suddenly fade out as he started hearing murmuring in the distance echoing around him.  It sounded unbearably loud as he covered his ears and the studio brushed away in flakes like eraser debris.  

“-yung! -hyung!” He felt like his head was about to burst as he felt something grab the back of his jacket and yank him backward.  He was then tumbling out of your frame, out of the void and onto the floor of the demented gallery. “Taehyung!” Someone shouted his name above him as his eyes were blurry and he rubbed at them to try and get them to regain their focus.  He blinked as his brows shot up when his eyes shot open wide.

“Namjoon?” There, above him, hovered his best friend. Taehyung quickly whipped around to his stomach before pushing off the ground and looking up to the blog journalist.  “What? What are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you that.”

Taehyung was sure he was the only one who happened to fall into this sketched out dangerous gallery. Namjoon wasn’t even where he was left when Taehyung looked for him. He looked his friend over.

“How have you made it this far?” Taehyung was impressed. Aside from the disheveled state of his clothes with wrinkles and small beads of sweat on his brow and temple, he seemed fine.  

“It wasn’t easy, I’ll tell you that.” Namjoon groaned as he pulled the artist off the floor and straightened out his jacket, brushing him off. “I’ve been running around like crazy for hours looking for you.”

Taehyung was shocked and honestly glad to see a familiar face.  Then you came to mind.  He wondered if you were looking for him after he just decided to pull that disappearing act on you.  He felt guilty about it now that his actions settled in. For all he knew, you thought he got himself caught in another dangerous situation when he was really as safe as he could be in the moment. 

“Did you happen to pass by a girl? Like, our age but wearing outdated clothing.”

“Someone else? No, I didn’t. Is someone else here?”

Taehyung shook his head.  “No, she’s not a person, she’s a painting and- argh forget it!  It’s a long story and from the look you’re giving me, you don’t believe me in the first place.”

“How hard did you hit your head when I pulled you out of that thing?” Namjoon asked as he used his thumb to lazily point to your empty frame.  Taehyung squeezed his eyes shut as he rubbed at his temples.  He remembered the way his head spun when Namjoon started calling him before he was dragged out by the man.  His head had pounded just like how it did when he was in the room with the tar monster from earlier. 

He tried thinking back to the man in the studio he witness and tried putting together anything that could be used as a clue on how to get home. He seemed to obviously be pointing to something, something Taehyung couldn’t help but feel was important.  “Whatever you saw,” Namjoon called his attention, “forget it.  It’s probably a trap or something.  You can’t trust the things here.”

“Not everything is dangerous,” Taehyung countered with you in mind.  “Y/n isn’t.”

Namjoon sighed annoyed. “You don’t know that. You said ‘she’ was a painting, right? You can’t trust something like that thing.”

“Don’t call her a thing,” Taehyung growled.  “She’s kept me safe up until this point. Like it or not, I trust her. We need to find her before we get attacked by something.”

“Taehyung-”

“I’m not arguing about this.  Finding Y/n takes first priority.” Normally, Taehyung was more than obedient when it came to Namjoon.  Not only was he older, but the sense of leadership the older held made it easy to listen.  However, Taehyung didn’t feel that air of ‘need to follow’ right now around him.  

“What about leaving? What about that priority?”

“She can help us. Y/n comes first,” he finalized before he was turning on his heel and going off into the direction he had fled from your side.  Namjoon clicked his tongue as he reluctantly followed behind.

Logically, even Taehyung knew that you’d probably be agitated for prioritizing your location over his freedom and escape out of this place.  But, the nagging in his head didn’t let him argue the topic, even with himself.  He wasn’t going to just find a way to escape and not tell you goodbye at the very least.  

You had done nothing but help and protect him, the least he could do was tell you thank you properly before he left.  It was the right thing to do, even if a little bit foolish.  He knew that.

To his luck, it didn’t take nearly all that long for him to catch a glimpse of you rushing around a corner.  You were jogging around, looking to and fro for something- he knew it was him- and he was quick to start shouting at you with his arm raised in the dark halls.  Namjoon stood behind his shoulder, still unhappy.

“Y/n!” He watched your head whip around as you started running towards him.  As you didn’t slow down in your approach, the closer you got the more nervous he became before you skit to an abrupt halt at his toes and got up into his face, grabbing his jacket collar.

“Stop going off on your own! Are you stupid or do you want to get attacked again that badly, huh?!” You shouted in rightful anger as he felt sweat gather on his neck.  He raised his hands in defense as he slightly pushed your shoulders down to gain some distance away from your rage.  

“I know, I shouldn’t have run off.” You slowly released his jacket. “That was my bad and I apologize, but,” he stepped away from you and twisted to show Namjoon. “I managed to find my friend.  He was in the gallery with me before I got here. This is Namjoon.”

Taehyung introduced the two of you as you just stared at the man and he stared back in a silent competition that Taehyung definitely picked up on.  Clearly, there wasn’t much hope of friendship on the horizon- but he figured you’d cooperate with him so that they could get out safely.  You were that kind of person- cooperative if not a bit on the stubborn side.

“You found him, huh? Where?”

“Oh, I went back to your frame and he was there.” Taehyung easily answered, deciding to keep the fact that he crawled into the frame and saw what looked like memories to himself.  What if it stirred something up with you? Your mood was already foul enough, he didn’t want to risk it.

He wasn’t one to stir the pot, so to speak. 

Your brow twitched at his seemingly carefree manner at his ditching stunt.  You groaned as you whacked him on the arm before pointing your finger at his face in a warning manner, making him go cross eyed momentarily.  

“You run off like that again, and I’ll tie your wrist to mine. Got it?”

“Promise?” He teased as you just threw your hands in the air in defeat and started walking off.  He wasn’t planning on running when your back was turned again.  Just that one time was enough.  Now that he was with Namjoon too, he couldn’t risk being as careless.  “We’re going. Come on.”

“At your beck and call, Leader,” Taehyung chided, still trying to get your spirits higher from the mood he put you in.  Namjoon followed behind silently with skeptical eyes as Taehyung chatted with you like he’d known you all his life.  

-x-x-x-

Taehyung had since stopped his yammering as you lead the charge of three through halls and told them when to be silent and when to be cautious. You kept a close eye on Namjoon, something about the friend of Taehyung’s rubbing you the wrong way.  You couldn’t say whether or not you were a good judge of character since Taehyung was the first human you ever met, but you still felt something off.  His cold glare made your artificial skin crawl.

You had just walked through an archway before Taehyung made a noise of recognition as you turned to him.  He looked around with wide eyes.  

“What is it?”

“I feel like I’ve been in this area before.”

“Really?” You questioned.  You’d never really gone into this portion of the gallery.  It was always too dark to see and you were always put off by how quiet it was.  It was like there was something on the other side of the walls that irked you.  “Maybe you passed by here before I found you. I’ve never been in this part before.”

“You haven’t been here? I thought you had been everywhere.” Taehyung wasn’t accusing you, he was just curious.  He wanted to know why you hadn’t been here.  

“I had no reason to be,” you told him.  “Besides, I don’t think a creature like me who’s slowly corrupting belongs in a tranquil part of this place.”

“So,” Namjoon finally intervened from behind the two of you.  You both turned to look at his cross-armed figure, still glaring and fuming with some odd sense of presence you hated.  “You admit you’re dangerous?”

Your brows furrowed.  “Excuse me?”

“You said you’re corrupting.  So? That sounds like a red-flag if I’ve ever heard one.”

“I’m sorry,” you scoff in disbelief, “has it been you getting Taehyung through this place in one piece? Or maybe it was you who has been taking down threats left and right and going on wild goose chases when things go south. No?”

“Guys-” Taehyung tried dispersing the stifling air, but Namjoon’s ire interrupted him.  You both went back and forth and before long you were at Namjoon’s toes, arguing with him face to face- quite literally.  Taehyung watched as he tried to think of a way to calm you both down.  The last thing he wanted was to both waste time and have the two sides of his trust arguing against each other.  

Taehyung was going to open his mouth and shout or something, just to break the string of tension, but his jaw had just dropped when you had stopped mid-sentence.  Your hand was raised, an accusatory finger pointed at his best friend’s chin when it started to drop just a fraction to his chest.

“Y/n?” Taehyung called.  He shrieked when your hand came to grip his chin, squeezing his jaw as you yanked Namjoon’s face down to look into his eyes.  “Woah! Y/n, c-calm down!” You narrowed your eyes before you shoved him away, making his feet stumble back a handful of steps to keep himself upright.  Taehyung came to your side as you shook your hand as if it was contaminated. He looked you over and noticed the uneasy look on your face. “What’s-”

“Why are you sticking to that painting like glue?” Namjoon called to Taehyung as he rubbed his jaw.  “I’m your friend here, not that.” Taehyung looked up and towards the journalist with confliction.  

“T-that’s true, but-”

“But nothing.  That thing just grabbed and shoved me, but you’re at it’s side like I did something wrong.  You should be checking on me, not fawning over that.” He pointed at you, his eyes grew small in anger as you just shot back at him a silent glare.  

Taehyung was less than pleased to keep hearing Namjoon refer to you as ‘it’ or a ‘thing’.  Painting or not, you were still alive and, dammit, Namjoon needed to accept that already. He was ready to tell him off, defend you when you spoke first in a low tone.

“Do you trust me?” You asked. You were looking dead at Namjoon, but the artist knew you were addressing him.  You repeat the question when you’re met with only silence.  Taehyung immedately nodded when the question was repeated.

“Yeah, of course I do.”

“WHY?!” He jumped from Namjoon’s shriek across from the two of you. Your shoulders squared and the action didn’t go unnoticed. “Why trust something you just met?! Who is admitting to killing things and slowing losing its mind?!” His brought his hands to his chest, gesturing to himself. “You should be trusting me!”

“What is wrong with you,” Taehyung whispered in concern, wondering what happened to his best friend.  He was normally the type to roll with anything, even in stressful situations he always tried to take it with a grain of salt.  He was an optimist, or at least he always tried to be.  No matter the dark tunnel, there’s always a light; it was basically Namjoon’s life motto. “Did something happen? Stop accusing Y/n and just talk to-” he gasped when he felt your hand grasp his.  Your face was downcast as you squeezed his palm. “Y/n?”

You whipped your head up and looked at him dead in the eyes.  “We have to run.” Taehyung jolted back.  Run? From what? You looked back at Namjoon, your colorblind eyes slowly unveiling just who and what that best friend of Taehyung’s was.  “We need to get away from him as soon as possible.  He’s dangerous.”

“What?” Taehyung was in instant denial.  Namjoon? Dangerous?  The same Namjoon who would cry if one of his plants died or would lay on the floor, staring at the ceiling if someone asked him what his favorite brand of pen is for the hundredth time? “That’s not true, he’s-” Taehyung looked at his best friend to defend him, but stopped short.

Something about him was off. Taehyung had noticed it since the beginning, but dismissed it all. Now, it looked like some veil of black was hovering around his friend’s body as he glared at you. Namjoon didn’t look like himself.  He looked fake and at that, Taehyung’s eyes widened.  

He looked artificial- just like how you did to his human eyes.  

You must have seen it in his eyes, that’s why you grabbed his chin to inspect him further.  That’s why you shoved him away and that’s why you wanted Taehyung to flee.  

Your hand dropped his as you caught sight of the thing disguised as Taehyung’s friend moving just slightly.  You stepped in front of the artist before you took off before ‘it’ could.  It lunged and you were quick to react.  You lifted your foot and slammed it into it’s stomach as it leaned forward- not at the lack of air, but the force you put into your stomping.  You locked your arm around the back of its neck as you tucked it’s head under your arm and held it in place in a lock.  

You groaned as you felt your arms burn with contamination again and your grip almost loosened at the paintings thrashing because of it.  You planted your feet as firmly as you could, even if the thrashing made you teeterd from your heels to your toes and skid an inch back or forward here and there.  

You weren’t sure how long you’d be able to keep the thing under your arm contained and although you had just told Taehyung not to leave your side again, you were ready to tell him to run off and hide somewhere until you could find him.  

The moment you turned your head on your shoulders to shout for him to do so, you halted to see him literally at your back already.  His large hands had planted themselves one on your back to steady you and the only ensnared in the fake Namjoon’s clothed back, gripping it’s clothes firmly. Even the fabric felt like paint under his nails as he started to rip the thing away from you.  

Taehyung caught sight of the fake’s face and what used to be identical to Namjoon had muddled away to show a white tar surface with no sense of expression. He sneered as he took your place of taking it on before he was shoving it backward.  

Although he wasn’t a fighter, Taehyung was no push over.  He could hold his own if he really ended up needing to and at the moment, he did.  He pushed the fake as it stumbled on it’s own clumsy feet before it started to go after him again.  Taehyung swung his elbow out, cathing the fake in the whiteness of it’s face before it hit the ground.  

He backed up away from the thing he just put on the ground, turning to you and snatching your hand in his again.

Taehyung’s hand squeezed yours and when he did, you spun on your heels and took off, fleeing with the young artist beside you.  You both heard ‘Namjoon’ scream behind your backs as Taehyung looked back to see it still laying on the floor, skriming.  

Taehyung was terrified, more terrified than he was before.  He was terrified on how it gained his trust so easily- a thought that almost made him angry.  He felt stupid as he held onto your hand like a linelife as you weaved through the halls and soon came to a staircase.  

You stopped as you looked over your shoulder as Taehyung buckled to his knees and heaved after sprinting for so long.  He used the wall to support himself as you looked at him trying to gather his breath.  

You looked at your hand in his and attempted to pull it away from him, but he just squeezed tighter onto you and tugged it back.

“A little longer,” he whispered.  After a few minutes of him gathering himself and you making sure you both weren't followed, he stood back to his height and continued to hold you hand.  “Hey,” he called with a tight throat. “If we run into anyone else, if you don’t trust them, tell me and I won’t either.” You didn’t say a word to try and deter him from using your judgement as his own, you simply nodded in agreement.  

If all worked out, he wouldn’t need to use your opinions for much longer.  You were going to get him out.

The two of you ascended the staircase before you and when you reached the top, Taehyung looked around to see the spitting image of the original gallery.  

The white walls and matching floors and ceilings. The chandeliers that weren’t on with the power out and the windows all greyed out as if they were blocked by cement.  The front doors were locked as if there was no escape.  Trying a switch, he wasn’t shocked to see the lights not working.  

“Can you lead from here,” you asked him, just trying to get him to talk again.  “I don’t know my way around.” He only nodded before he was walking off, tugging you in tow as you thought of ways to make his voice come out again.  You felt oddly uneasy when he was silent.  The previous incident with the fake friend of his obviously taking a mental toll on him.  It was to be expected, but it still hurt your chest.

If you had a beating heart, you’d call this feeling heartache.

It was when you passed by a rather mundane looking couch that was suclupted in a strange, wavey shape when you figured out a way to get him to talk. You stopped and your hand in his anchored him when he looked over his shoulder.  When he looked at you, you pointed to the sofa surrounded in rope dividers.

“What colors is that?” You asked when you looked back at him.  Your actions and unspoken desire to get his voice to come out didn’t go unnoticed-  

He smiled. “It’s red,” he told you.

-Nor did it go unappreciated.  

From that, he would tell you the colors of whatever you pointed at that you passed and before he knew it he had come to a deadend with only one, giant painting on the wall- taking up the entire space of it.  His mouth opened as his hand dropped from yours as he looked at it.  

“That’s,” he looked at it as his eyes ran over every edge. “That looks like the gallery. The real one,” he smiled as he gazed at it.  This was it, his way out. He felt in his bones that this was his exit.  His hand reached to touch the canvas, but gasped when his hand just phased right through.  It was just like how your frame was.  He could climb into this and be somewhere else.  

Then he felt a chill run down his spine and a heavy feeling fall in his gut.  He pulled his hand back as he turned around and looked at you.  You were well behind him against the back wall, your hands behind your back as you watched him.  

“What?” You asked.  This was his way out and you both knew it.  You expected him to jump on through and finally be free of this hellscape, but instead he made his way back to you and away from his exit door disguised as a painting. He stood in front of you, toe to toe as he looked at you.

Taehyung gazed at you, his eyes began to sting as they felt misty.  This was ridiculous, he felt ridiculous. How could he cry about leaving you behind when he just met you?  You didn’t belong in his world and he knew that just as much as you.  Yet, the feeling of parting ways with you made his throat tight.

“I’m leaving,” he told you. “And I won’t ever see you again,” he choked.  You were shocked to see the first tear run down his face.  You wondered if tears were blue. You brushed it away with the back of your hand as more just kept coming.  He could see the distortion on your skin under your sleeve from the angle of you wiping his tears and he just wanted to cry more.

His mind started becoming delusional.  

If he chose not to leave and stayed put with you, would you hurt him? Would you hunt him down in time and kill him like the others had before?  Would he lose his humanity even? Turn into a painting and spend the rest of his time with you. You wouldn’t be alone if he did. What if he tried to take you back with him? Would you just disintegrate into paint splotches because you had no physical body to speak of?

So many hypotheticals and you wouldn’t allow any of them to come to fruition.

“Go home, Taehyung,” you told him softly with a smile, the hand you placed on his cheek rubbed his skin before letting it softly fall.  You urged him, not commanded him and he knew he had to go.  He sniffled as he grabbed your hands and held them again. “What, you want a hug goodbye or something?” You teased but when he didn’t reply, you rolled your eyes.  “You do, don't you?”

“And? What about it,” he sniffed as he pouted. You pulled your hands away from his, even if he chased after them when you did.  You swatted at his hands that tried grabbing yours once more.

“Do you want me to hug you or not?” You asked in impatience while he nodded like a child. “Then let my hands go.” He immediately abandoned your hands and wrapped his arms under your own and pulled you to your toes against his chest.  You felt your chest hit his with a dull thud as he held you like you were dying.  

Well, you sort of were, but he didn’t need the finer details repeated on your unavoidable fate.  

He started swaying you on your toes as he found a home on your shoulder. One of your hands was on his head, shushing him and the other pat his back between his shoulders.  He really was like a giant child.  Was this what a goodbye hug felt like? It felt nothing like the hug he gave you when he was attacked previously and reunited with him.  This one felt much more sad- desperate even.

“Teahyung,” you whispered as you felt him hum against your shoulder. “You need to go.”

“I know,” he admitted before he started to pull away from you when your hands moved to land on his shoulders to push him softly.  His eyes looked swollen and wondered what color the skin around his eyes were. It looked darker to your black and white vision. “I think- I think I’m going to miss you.  A lot.”  

You brought a hand to his cheek again, stroking it as you smiled at him.  

“You’ll forget a painting like me in no time,” you eased.  He frowned at that, wanting to hug you again, but you just pushed him away. Turning him by his shoulders, you started to push him from behind to the frame before you came to his side.  You gestured towards it. “Home is waiting for you.”

He swallowed another large lump in his throat.  He curled his lips over his teeth to keep from crying anymore.  He was so overly emotional and he was annoying himself because of it. He could only imagine how you felt watching his waterworks.  

“What’s going to happen to you?”

“I’m going back to my frame,” you told him.  “I’ll go back to my home too,” you smiled.  He felt a small sliver of relief at your answer.  “We’ll both go back to where we belong, just as he should. It’ll be okay.” You pat his back. “I promise.” You felt bad, lying straight to his face like that.  

He nodded before he grabbed the inside of the frame, and began to hull himself over.  He had one knee resting on the frame edge and the other still hanging out when he turned and looked down at you hovering above you on the wall.  He reached in his jacket and pulled out his rose before he handed it to you.  It was a silent agreement as he passed it onto you- he knew he wouldn’t need it anymore. You’d keep it safe even if he wasn’t there anymore and he knew you would.

He put on his brightest smile, “see you around, Y/n,” before he jumped completely through.

As his body faded into the stretched, painted fabric of the canvas and the frame seemed to close like a locked portal that you couldn’t ever even think about passing through, you fell to the ground, screaming as your body felt like it was on fire.

You laughed bitterly as you were just relieved that the one precious person you managed to meet in your miserable existence as a painting without a future was someone as kind and warm as Taehyung.

-x-x-x-

Taehyung felt dazed.  

He was staring at a plaque as his eyes were bleary like he had just woken up from a long nap.  He felt like yawning before he felt a shake on his shoulder.  He lifted his head, rubbing his eyes.  

“Hey,” Namjoon called with concern written on his face, “what’s with you? You zoned out for like two minutes.”

“I dunno,” he replied.  He moved to look at the giant painting of a black location with messy brushes of what looked like some haunted locations.  “I feel like I just woke up from a really nap.” He yawned as he read the name of the painting loud to himself.  “Parallel Reality,” the words read and they sounded familiar to him.  “I feel like I'm forgetting something,” he frowned. “Didn’t the lights go out a little while ago or something?”

“Dude,” Namjoon’s hand fell from his friend’s shoulder. “You really need to get some proper sleep if you’re taking micro-naps, standing up, around this many people and dreaming about power-outages.” It was only then that the artist was aware of all the sounds around him- buzzing from every corner of the building.

“I don’t wanna hear that from the reigning champ of disarranged sleep schedules.”

The journalist and young, free-lance artist continued walking around the blinding white gallery.  People crowded the place and the murmur of them all talking in whispers comforted Taehyung for a reason he couldn’t exactly explain.  

He and Namjoon had started down the final hall they had left to view. The sme hall that happened to contain the naming right to the gallery in the first place.  At the end of the hall, hanging on the dead-end wall was the one painting called ‘Leia’. The piece Taehyung came to see specifically to see if he could be sprung out of his art-block.

As he stood in front of the painting, he inspected it.

It was a young woman dressed in dated clothes with her eyes looking off to almost mimic looking off the canvas.  Her legs were coiled in thorns and she looked like she was running from something, but with a protective sense and not a fearful one.  She held a blue rose in her hand as the silver, engraved frame encased the painting.  

The piece wasn’t what he was expecting, but somehow looking at the piece, he felt calm despite the action set formed in brush strokes.  As the tour guide in charge of 'Leia’ began to explain how it was the artist’s last piece, Taehyung began to zone out again, while Namjoon scribbled down notes beside him.  

As she yammered on and on, Namjoon soon caught sight of his friend’s face. He stopped his writing as he lifted his pen up and lowered his arm to tuck it away in his pocket,. When his hand was free of any writing utensil, he placed it on Taehyung’s back.

“Hey,” he whispered softly to not gain attention from the other’s standing around them. “Why are you crying?”

Taehyung jolted as he quickly brought his hands to his face.  

He was crying.  

When did he start and why? He wiped them away only for more to follow through.  He was soon silently hunched over sobbing.  Why did he feel this way by looking at a painting? Art had always given him a sense of emotion- but he hadn’t felt such sorrow before.  

“I don’t know,” he whimpered as Namjoon took him to some place less crowded. As Taehyung calmed down, he felt oddly refreshed.  

“You okay now? I’ve got enough notes for an entry if you want to leave.”

“Yeah,” he replied. “I want to go home and paint,” he announced as Namjoon smiled, happy to see a spark behind Taehyung’s eyes return.  The spark of an artist that had finally overcome his art-block. 

“Alright, then let’s get going.” As the two men walked out, reception bidding them farewell, Namjoon started making conversation. “So, what do you want to paint?”

“I’m not sure, but maybe a blue rose garden or something. Paired with something old fashioned, like outdated clothing or old picture books. I’ll figure it out when I get to my studio.”

He didn’t voice it, but he knew he’d be back to view ‘Leia’ again, and this time he wouldn’t cry. The calmness he felt from the painting- regardless of his tears- was like being reunited with an old friend. 

What kind of man would Taehyung be if he cried in front of a friend?  

-END-

[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter 13: SNAFU

Characters: Captain Syverson, various original minor/supporting characters.

Summary: Sy has some time to think about his past, present, and future while roughing it in the Virginia wilderness which leads him to a revelation about what he really wants…but is it too late?

Need to start from the beginning? Miss an update because Tumblr? Click me!

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings:  Mild language, mature themes, military and weapon terminology, discussion, and use. (For those who don’t know, SNAFU is a term coined in the military. It’s an acronym for “Situation Normal, All Fucked Up.” And since this is from Sy’s perspective, I thought a military term, as opposed to a therapy term would be appropriate.)

Author’s Note: Despite this being the longest chapter, clocking in at almost 5k, it was one of the easiest to write, and came the quickest. I love writing from Sy’s perspective, and the pure love he has for Shane. I’m hoping to be able to write a bit more of his POV before the story is complete. We’ll see. I apologize if it seems like one long rant about Sy’s feelings…I guess that’s what it is, with various activities peppered in. He can be a sensitive guy, and I wanted to show that. 

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

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Hope I’m not forgetting anyone! If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@

Sy was no whimp. That much was certain. Missouri winters had toughened him up more than most men in his battalion and most of the participants in the training he was currently undertaking.

But it was more than that. Sy was uniquely prepared for the elements. He remembered a particularly harsh December night during Christmas break, before he joined the service when he was home alone and had to let the dog out. Fool that he was, he wore no shoes. Greater fool, he'd allowed the door to the back yard to close…and unfortunately, it had a tendency to lock. Which it did. He tried fruitlessly for a while to break back in, but being without a cell phone, he knew he'd have to walk a good distance for help with the lock.

He slipped out the gate and started up to the road, to follow it  to his grandparents a few miles away. The county road wasn't the best kind for walking, particularly barefoot in the late fall, but his feet were soon too numb to feel the gravel and whatever else was lacerating the soles of his feet. After about an hour, he made it there, shivering, knocking frantically and waking his frail old grandparents up to rescue him from his own negligence. He'd regret that until the day he died. Not that they were angry about it. They shrugged it off. His grandma cleaned the blood and dirt from his feet and bandaged the shallowed abrasions. They didn't look too bad, considering the area they lived in and the trash that could have been waiting to carve him up. Then she set about cleaning up Sy's messy footprints from her normally immaculate floor. Grandpa looked all over for their spare keys to Sy's and his mom's house, and finally found them. He lent him a pair of shoes, drove him back home, and let him in the house. After that, Sy found himself eager to spend time outdoors during colder weather. As if determined to build up a tolerance to it in case he ever found himself in such a situation again.

Now, despite the time of year being only late August, it was unseasonably cool, especially at night, as if Christmas was right around the corner, and Sy was wishing more and more that he had someone to cuddle with during the nights he'd be doing cross country training here at the beautiful Shenandoah National Park. He had packed only the essentials for the expedition, a mess kit, bed roll, canteen, modest rations, first aid supplies, et cetera, plus a rope and a tarp for building a shelter. On his person, he had a compass, a topographical map of the park with checkpoints indicated, waterproof, strike-anywhere matches, a hunting knife, a tactical knife, an M17 pistol, and three .9mm clips. He was also given a flare gun to use in case he got stuck for any reason and needed extraction.

On his first night in the wilderness, he'd taken a lot of time falling asleep. Thinking.

He thought about his last week at home. He wondered how Mr. and Mrs. Stevens were doing with Aika. Shane had offered to watch her, and he considered it. He had appreciated her eagerness to help after her…less than enthusiastic response to hearing about this trip. But he decided since Aika had a close relationship already with Fred and Caroline, and she was still getting to know Shane, they'd better be the ones to take her. She understood, and had offered the second reason that since she worked so much, she wouldn't be able to give her the kind of attention she was used to. That had made a lot of sense. He felt like kind of a bad dog parent for not thinking of it, himself.

He thought about the week he'd been here already at the compound. His first day filling out paperwork, he was asked for an emergency contact. He was used to putting his mom…but she wasn't in the best of health, herself. He had nobody. Nobody but Shane. He put her down, instead of his mom. He thought about the seminars on company approved methods of subduing and detaining targets and combatants. He should have taught Shane some self-defense moves before he left. She could handle herself, and she'd proven so, but still. A refresher, or an advancement on one's skills was always a good idea. But he was sure she'd be fine. He thought about her the most in the torturous policy and procedure lecture. What he wouldn't'a given to have her here with him. She would have made everything fun. And she would have been a way better study partner than Keith. Keith, a Navy vet from Little Rock was a good guy…he just…didn't get Sy's jokes. He was a very literal kind of thinker, and it took extra effort for Sy to communicate with folks like that.

Shane, though…he and Shane wouldn't have gotten too much done, study-wise. They would have been…distracted.

As he hiked along the trails to his first checkpoint, he breathed in the clean, crisp air and stopped at the odd overlook here and there. The park was nestled on the outer edge of the Blue Ridge Mountains, and they were too gorgeous not to appreciate while he was here. He found himself…uniquely emotional. He didn't feel lonely often, but since he'd met Shane, he'd hardly gone two days without seeing her, even if it was for just an hour. She'd love all of this. She'd probably want a tent, and coffee in the mornings, so they wouldn't be able to travel quite as light, but they'd make it work. Maybe one day they'd take a trip like this. Just for fun. No checkpoints. No deadlines. No semi-automatic weapons…well, honestly, he'd probably still bring a gun, anyway. You never did know about people these days, he thought. Of course, that's probably what people think of me carrying a pistol, he also thought…anyway, he was almost to the checkpoint.

Said checkpoint was a big tent, like the ones they sold fireworks out of leading up to Fourth of July. Inside there was a single lane shooting range set up down one half of the tent. On the other half, there were stations set up with dismantled weapons that you had to assemble in a certain amount of time. Someone had beaten him to the range, so he started with the guns. No problems whatsoever. He was familiar more or less with all of the models, or some version of them. When the previous participant, a small blonde woman, had finished on the range, Sy stepped up to the counter.

The attendant reset the target for Sy so he could do a close range shot, then again for mid and long range ones. He shot well, although he still wasn't used to the lighter weight of the SIG Sauer M17s the armed forces switched to back in 2017. They'd offered him an M18 at the compound, but he favored the heaver pistol, instead. Maybe the M18 was more packable, but Sy just didn't feel right firing a weapon that felt like a feather in his hand. If it was up to him, he'd take a Colt Python .357 Magnum Revolver. That, however, was more than just a question of how the firearm felt in his hand. Being out in the wilderness like this made him think back to how it must have been before these lands became civilized and gentrified. Back to the days of the cowboy, Wyatt Earp and the OK Corral. Back when it was just the wild and free land he could pretend it was now. He thanked the attendant, who was writing his name on his targets to take back to the compound along with his graded weapon assembly timesheets, and then was back on his way.

There was an eerie beauty about this unsullied land, he thought, as the dusk fell the second night of the excursion and he began setting up his camp about halfway between the first and second checkpoints, by his estimation. With his fire built and his shelter up, Sy took out some of his rations, cured meat, hard cheese, and some walnuts, and had a light supper before cleaning his gun and turning in while the ground still held some heat from the waning sun, wishing again as the cold set in that his woman was there to warm him.

His sleep was fitful. And he awoke before dawn, from dreams he couldn't remember but which still left him feeling empty. They must have been about her. He was starting to feel regret. The last time he'd seen Shane, he'd said some things that he meant to be selfless. But he didn't mean them. He meant the parts about loving her, of course. But the last thing he wanted was to come home and find her moved on with someone else. He couldn't stand to think about it. As he walked into the next checkpoint area, the range was already set up for close range firing. He riddled the target with .9mm holes and could barely wait until the attendant got the fresh sheet set to mid range before he began firing.

"How about you let me fully clear the lane before you start on the long range target, okay, Syverson?"

"Sorry, man. I'm a little…on edge today. Won't happen again."

The short, sandy-haired buck trotted out to replace the riddled sheet with one more for the long range leg, pulled it down and lacked it in to long range position, then hoofed it back up to safety, sensing the captain's impatience. Sy shot cleanly, but with cold anger, as if the silhouette on the page out there was trying to take Shane away from him. He put two square in the chest, and two in the head without hesitating.

"Man, I've never seen a long range shoot like that! What's the deal, you pissed at an ex, or something?" Sy checked the man's lapel for a name tag.

"Not exactly, Mister…Daniels."

"Call me Jack." they shook hands, and Sy chuckled, questioning.

"I'm Sy. You're name is Jack…Daniels?"

"Yes sir. No relation to the Lynchburg Daniels, unfortunately. Momma wanted to name me after her granddad, and my old man, well, he had no problem with it given his affinity for the spirit."

"A wise man, your dad. Some of my best nights have included Tennessee Number 7." He didn't elaborate, but he was getting very specific flashbacks of drinking games in his kitchen with Shane. And he was gonna have to shake it off before the weapons assembly drill, or else he'd end up putting together an assault rifle backward.

He made it through without any trouble, thank the good Lord. But that didn't mean that his mind wasn't still reeling. He was thinking of Shane and the possibility that she was being courted by Chris Evans look-alikes and young Harrison Ford doppelgangers, and it was making him furious. He was pretty sure that she was about as interested in taking a break as he was, but he couldn't help himself from making the offer under the circumstances. He kicked himself as he made his camp for the evening, not very far away from the third checkpoint, but too far away to get there by dusk when the daily deadline was. He was a shoe in to get there first in the morning, though, if he was reading his map correctly, and he was damn good at maps, if he did say so, himself. And who would bitch at him for bragging out here, anyway. The odd cricket or squirrel? He didn't think so.

It was colder tonight, and he was thankful that he thought to boil some water for his canteen and put it at his feet. He curled his surly, burly body up under the layers of blanket and thermal sheeting. He was almost warm enough…but he still needed something.

His sleep was plagued by strange dreams that he unfortunately remembered tonight. The scene began with Shane in a bright pink dress and matching gloves, dripping with diamonds, like Marilyn Monroe in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. She looked so glamourous and beautiful, but she was getting passed from man to man to the tune of Madonna's Material Girl, which was not the correct song, and he knew it in that moment, but couldn't correct anyone, because it was all playing out on the big screen TV in his basement. When he realized this he turned it off and noticed a familiar head of hair on his lap and stroked it, about to say "Hey, sunshine." until the figure sat up and looked at him, and it was Jordan, the PTA, batting his eyelashes at him, and asking, "You ready for bed, babe?"  The therapist leaned in for a kiss, but Sy leaned back, tumbled off the couch and landed on those crutches again, standing right in front of Shane in the lobby of the therapy clinic.

"Hey sunshine." he said warmly. She looked confused.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"Well…I should hope so…it's me. Sy."

"Sorry, not ringing any bells. I'll look you us and see who you're with, though. Usually Heather tells the new patients which therapists they get their first day. What's your last name?"

He felt like he was getting kicked in the gut with a soccer cleat worn by the Incredible Hulk. He answered with defeat.

"Sy's a nickname. Last name Syverson, first name Logan."

"Oh, there you are. Looks like Cory gets to take care of you today. I'll let him know you're ready. As long as you're all done with the secretaries?"

Sy nodded and collapsed to the floor blacking out. When he woke up, his neighbor, Mr. Stevens was standing over him, insisting it was time for him to get ready. He kept handing him things to put on. Pants, a nice shirt, a vest, a light blue tie, a jacket, nice shoes. The whole enchilada. They got out of Fred's car at a little white chapel outside which, his neighbor pinned a small boutonniere of powder blue hydrangeas to his lapel and walked in with him.

"Come on, boy. She'll be here any minute."

Sy was nervous, but excited. He was obviously marrying Shane. But he couldn't remember proposing, or planning the wedding, or an engagement party, or bachelor party, or rehearsal dinner, nothing…but none of that mattered. He heard the first notes of "Here Comes the Bride" and everything faded away, anyway. He began to cry as she got closer. She was moving slowly, he presumed out of nerves. Or perhaps she'd chosen the wrong shoes. It didn't matter. They'd dance the night away barefoot, and make love until dawn. He wished her veil wasn't so thick. He couldn't even see her bouquet. Let alone her stunning face, no doubt smiling as she cried with him. When she stood in front of him, he broke protocol and removed the veil to find Aika in a white dress on her hind legs panting, tongue lolling happily to one side.

"You may now kiss the bride." said the wizened old minister, causing Aika to knock Sy to the ground licking his face until he blacked out again.

This time, he woke to the chirping birds of a mountain morning in Virginia. His campfire long snuffed, his canteen now chilled as his blood. Those dreams…those were traumatic. He didn't want Shane to see anyone else. The thought of seeing anyone else himself repulsed him. Thinking about what his life would have been like if they'd never gotten to work together made him physically ill, and he was terrified that if he didn't act on these feelings, he'd end up with no one but his dog. Why did it take a trip out of state and all these nights of solitude to figure this out? She was all that mattered. He could dig ditches, flip burgers, get a teaching certificate and coach, or teach gym. Whatever. He also liked history. He could think of something if the people at Secure Source couldn't keep him in consistent work. It would be fine. He understood his purpose now. And it wasn't just to do his duty to his country. He'd served proudly for years. He had a new purpose now. And it was her.

He packed up camp in what he was sure was record time and hauled ass to the last checkpoint where the brass should be waiting for finishers. He was the first one there this morning, but he wasn't sure if anyone had made it yesterday. He didn't try to make small talk with the attendant today. He was on a legit mission to get back to his locker at the compound, turn his phone on and call Shane. He fired four shots, but only made two holes on the long range target. One in the chest, one in the head. The attendant was impressed, giving the highest possible grade.

"Man, Syverson. I pray I never do anything to piss you off."

Sy nodded in acknowledgement and went on to the weapons drill booths. Today, there were distracting sound effects playing on a speaker in each booth, and each one was different. Sy ignored the cacophony, pretending it was white noise, and focused on the puzzles at hand, breezing through the new weapons in better time than ever.

As his cards were being scored and turned in for review to Jane Freitag, the administrator over acquisitions and training, he got himself a cup of coffee and a doughnut, and just observed her, tactically, and objectively. She was a redhead with sharp features, freckles, and light eyes. She was slender, but dressed simply, and modestly. The consummate professional. Sy had honestly barely registered her gender, and it wasn't because she wasn't beautiful. She was. Full red lips, lashes for days, and although her clothes didn't exactly accentuate her shape, he could tell he had a decent figure. He just wasn't interested. And would never be interested in anyone but Shane again. Miss Freitag startled him out of his thoughts.

"Mr. Syverson." She beckoned him to the entrance to the tent near her vehicle.

He picked up his gear and coffee and trotted over to her.

"Ma'am?"

"Jane, please."

"Sy, then, for me. What's next on the agenda?"

"Well, you're the first participant across the finish line. I'm very impressed. It seems as though you almost could have finished last night."

"Yes, ma'am, if I hadn't taken a little extra time for sightseeing, I might have made it here by dusk last night. I just haven't had the hustle I had today."

"Well, that's nothing to sneer at. Normally, the deprivation of food, regular water supply, and proper sleeping conditions make participants sloppy. The opposite seems to be true for you, as you've done better at each checkpoint than the one before. Now, let's get back to the compound and get you a proper meal, and a shower, and talk about what's next for you here at Secure Source."

"Yeah, about that. Before we go much further with this, I need to know one thing."

"What's that?"

"I need to know if you'll be able to find me work near enough to St. Robert and the base there so that I don't have to relocate and travel all the time.  I've got a life there, and…it's not something I can just pick up and move on a whim, and I don't want to be away for weeks and months at a time. I know I made this trip work, but I'm praying it didn't already ruin everything." He wasn't going to waste time mincing words. He needed to know right away or else this wouldn't work.

"Sy, with your talent…they're gonna want to put you on the high profile cases. Celebrity security. Concerts, movie premiers, things like that. You'll be wasted as a small town rent-a-cop." there was true concern in her face and her voice as she drove them out of the park and onto the main road to Secure Source's compound.

"If there's a need I can fill, how is that a waste? There's lots of talent in this program. Just 'cause I finished first don't mean I did it the best. And I'm sure most of these folks have the people skills to take them farther'n me. And if you wanna gimme first crack at those, I'll hear ya out. Just…let me reserve the right to turn down the out of town jobs. Especially if they're short notice. And if it takes me away from another security job, I want you to send me a replacement a few days in advance so I can meet 'em, train 'em, and introduce 'em around."

"Seems reasonable." Jane said.

"Well, alright, then. I think we got ourselves a deal. I'll shower up in the locker room real quick, then meet ya in the commissary for a sandwich so we can handle the particulars?"

"Sure, Sy." she agreed as they pulled into the parking structure.

They went their separate ways, Jane to her office, and Sy to the quartermaster to return his supplies and get the key to his locker. He practically danced there, he was so giddy to get to call Shane. He did need a quick shower first, though. Which he took, grabbing some shampoo and soap out of his travel bag. When he got back to his locker, towel around his waist, he replaced the products and grabbed his phone. He sat on the bench between the rows of lockers as it booted up.

When it did, it began alerting him as if it's life depended on it. Three text messages, three voicemails, … and twenty four missed calls. That was odd. Maybe a telemarketer had gotten his number.

He checked the texts first. One was a picture of Aika from Fred, his neighbor, the other two were from Shane…two days ago. The day he went into the park.

Hey, hope you have a great first day of Survivor: Virginia! Lol! Be safe! I love you!

OMG, nutty day today! I'm gonna be doing notes for hours! I'll text you in the morning! <3

And then nothing…he chuckled at Survivor: Virginia, but was a bit concerned. Maybe she'd decided not to waste time texting him if he wasn't going to respond? He didn't know. Maybe some of the calls or voicemails were from her. He'd check before calling.

One from his mom, one from the Stephen's house phone, and the rest were from Fort Wood Therapy. That was weird. He was discharged and didn't have any appointments…surely he wasn't missing any…Shane would have said something. He listened to the voicemails. The first one was from Heather.

"Hey, Sy, it's Heather, Shane's friend here at therapy. Hey, give me a call when you get this. Thanks."

Weird…the next one was from Susan, Shane's boss. In the same tone.

"Captain Syverson, it's Susan DeForrest here at Fort Wood Therapy Clinic. Please give us a call when you get this. Thank you."

Again, weird. The last one was Susan again and far less friendly and measured.

"Mr. Syverson. I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but you need to bring Shane back to work and stop screwing around. One or both of you is in serious trouble. Either you're being hot-lined for abduction or she's fired for not showing up for work. The choice will be hers." and the line went dead.

Sy felt his stomach twist into nauseated knots at Susan's words. Shane hadn't been to work. For how long? He had to call them. He didn't want to think about the horror that might have befallen Shane while he'd been away.

"Fort Wood Therapy Clinic, this is Heather, how may I help you?" Heather said, trying to hide the obvious worry beneath the cordial demeanor.

"Heather, it's Sy, what the hell's going on with Shane? What do you mean, she hasn't been to work, I don't…"

"Let me give you to Susan, Sy. I'm sorry." She added the last two words in a whisper. After a brief moment on hold, Susan picked up.

"So, Mr. Syverson. Finally decided to call us back?"

"Cut it out, Susan." He let her blatant ignorance of his rank slide in favor of getting to the point. "Tell me what's going on."

"Shane left work Monday and hasn't been back since. No one has seen her. Apart from you, I presume. I knew letting her date a patient would come back to bite me. I should never have--"

"Shut up! This isn't about you, and it isn't because of you. And you had no right to tell Shane who she could and couldn't date, anyway. I haven't seen her in about a week and a half. I'm training out of state for a job. I've been away from my phone since Monday, and I just got back to it now."

"She isn't…with you? I assumed…"

"Well, you know what they say, Susan. I'm coming back early if I can manage it. See if I can do something to help find her. Thanks for calling me. I know your intentions weren't the best when you did, but ultimately, it worked out. I may not have found out otherwise, at least until… much later."

He hung up before she could respond. He had to talk to Jane about cutting his training short. This was all his fault. If he had just come to the realization of just how important, how vital Shane really was to him before he left…well he never would have gone in the first place. She was his life now. His world. His future, and his whole heart. Tears stung his eyes as he dressed to meet Jane in the commissary. She'd have to be okay with this. She'd have to understand.

As he got closer to the smell of fry oil, seasonings, and sizzling meat on a griddle, aromas that usually made his stomach grumble with hunger, he had to swallow back the bile that crept up his throat. He found her seated at a small round four-top, already eating a salad. He sat across from her, startling her from whatever she was reading on her phone, and again when she looked at his expression and complexion.

"Sy, what's wrong? You look downright green!"

"Listen, Jane, I'm going to have to leave training early." She scowled at him, but he was more concerned with the putrid smells of boiled egg and onion coming off her chef salad. He had to get this over with quick before he wretched in the middle of the mess hall.

"That's a big ask, Sy. Gonna have to have a reason."

"I just got a call that my girlfriend is missing. I need to go home and help find her."

"Oh…yeah, that's…that's some reason. I'm really sorry to hear that. Any leads so far?"

"No, I just got off the phone with her useless boss and all she told me was that she hasn't been to work since Monday and can't be reached on her phone. I have my suspicions, but I wanna talk to the authorities."

"Okay, well. Maybe when things calm down at home, we can set you up with some online courses like we do for our assets who need refreshers, but are on assignment. I'll approve that for you."

"Thanks," he said, gratefully, "I'm also wondering if the company has any…transportation solutions for me…of an immediate nature?"

"Man, what were your letters to Santa like as a child?"

"Oh, you know, a little red wagon, end of poverty, world peace…that kind of stuff." he grinned his most charming grin.

"Why am I not surprised? Okay, but you have to return the favor somehow, Sy."

"How about, one assignments of your choosing, no questions asked?"

"Hmmm, what about five assignments?"

"Three?" he countered.

"Done." they shook hands across the table. "I would have settled at two." she smirked.

"I would have done ten." he winked at her as he turned to retrieve his belongings from his bunk and locker. He had a plane…or perhaps a chopper to catch.

Up Next: Chapter 14: No Call No Show

[cruddyborderlandstheories]

so i’d really like to finish my guardian takedown lore analysis, but honestly the game isn’t really fun to play at the moment anymore (even with the health debuffs they added) so I think im going to be taking a break for now because I’m just not having fun anymore.

this game has a lotta mechanical problems i think need to be addressed so im gonna summarize it as bullet points below. I’ll play the new dlc when it drops, but idk if i’ll be on more than that (grinding, end-game stuff) until they make some serious changes. I’ve been playing (near) daily since launch, followed the patch/hotfix notes every single week, and my patience has finally, FINALLY run dry, especially with that really disappointing Phase 1 Patch and then the hotfix this week not adding anything else. What is the balancing team doing??? 😩

tl;dr: FIX THE VAULT HUNTERS!!!!

anyway. That’s all I needed to get outta my system. I might log on to this blog every now and again to post some random shit that pops into my head (probably with regards to my AU), but I’m not going to be actively playing and posting for the time being. Goodbye (for now), and here’s hoping the new DLC is good!! 

guardian takedown only problems:

there’s a lot of waiting around, and sometimes it’s not explicitly stated that you’re waiting for something, so you’ll be lost on what to do next (not sure if that’s a dialogue glitch or not)

the crystal charge insta-death is bull. just. what the hell. at least make it so you just have to start over. killing ur players for failing a “puzzle” that they then have to fight all the way back to is so infuriating.

dying because you fell off a platforming puzzle is also bull. 

i remember playing the first DMC on my playstation in middle school and having a conniption over the part in the observatory(? it’s been a hot minute since I played DMC 1) with the disappearing/invisible platforms. I h a t e jumping puzzles. why are they in a section of the game where death is semi-permanent and a detriment to your teammates. i tried the takedown 2x with friends and both times one friend didn’t make the first big jump to the temple and had to wait for our inevitable deaths. that’s so unfair to them.

there’s absolutely no reason for a boss to have 12 fuckin immunity phases. 4 per health bar with 3 health bars? Who the fuck designed this? *pumps shotgun* i just wanna talk. 

i appreciate a tasteful immunity phase every now and again (the ones in the Valkyrie fight are actually p reasonable), but christ. that is overkill. I don’t mind the main boss fight, since u can end those early through certain actions, but jesus. the mid-boss fight is annoying as hell. you spend more time running from the immunity phases and finding the damn boss than u do actually shooting it.

drop rates are crap, which I guess should be expected given what happened with the Maliwan Takedown and the handful of months it took for them to fix that, but also you think they’d have learned.

in the maliwan takedown there’s a sense of progression thru the facility after you kill each area’s batch of enemies, but in this one it’s... dampened by the crystal charging sequences. you kill all the enemies in an area, press a button, and now you have to kill 3x that number of enemies in the same area, expect you’re just standing there motionless. It’s not fun.

the crystal charging stuff is just not fun in general. standing in a square is not entertaining. it’s worse that it was clearly designed for 3+ players when a majority of people play/grind solo

i gotta admit the boss fights just aren’t as fun as the Maliwan Takedown fights overall. I felt like a real badass fighting Wotan for the first time, but the main boss for this Takedown is kind of a bitch. Wotan’s fight is chaos, there’s so much shit happening at once and you don’t really have time to process everything and I love it. This one is p meh...

This would be fine and I’d 100% not care that much if there weren’t all these OTHER problems

General Issues with the Game

There’s no endgame stuff to play outside of the takedowns. 

I assume they’re working on the first raid given some stuff I found in the Guardian Takedown files, but I really wish they’d keep the seasonal events/areas. They give us the option to disable/enable them while they’re ‘active’, just give us the ability to do it whenever we want.

when i hop on i either run through Athenas (my favorite map), or farm a boss or two. I have all the loot i really need from the maliwan takedown/elsewhere, and the guardian takedown just... isn’t fun atm, so i have nothing to do.

I’ve reset my playthru multiple times to play the main story at m10, but u can only play it (and the dlc) so many times

Mayhem levels and modifiers are a hot m e s s

a majority of the modifiers just aren’t fun to play with

they incorporated like 2-3 fun modifiers (from the community), then added a bunch that straight-up aren’t. I’m fine with the game being more difficult, but at least give us modifiers that make it more entertaining to play at a higher level instead of more annoying. I like the ones that have trade-offs or add new ‘enemies’, but I hate the ones that just straight up reduce your damage output.

a majority of the weapons with the mayhem 10 anointment (scaling) do not work on mayhem 10 (we’ll go more in-depth with this later)

Player Characters (Vault Hunters!!!) are also a hot mess and a lot of problems plaguing them haven’t been fixed SINCE LAUNCH

theyre literally the basis of the game and its balance. why havent you guys fixed them yet. stop adding new content until they’re fixed. no new skill trees until the base 3 trees work ON EVERY CHARACTER.

seriously. Why is amara p much limited to using Phasegrasp. Why does Iron Bear not matter to Moze except to proc anointments. MAKE ALL ACTION SKILLS EQUAL AND HAVE HEFT.

i wrote an essay here about it bc i feel that strongly about this

SERIOUSLY FIXING UR VAULT HUNTERS WILL MAKE BALANCING SO MUCH EASIER PLEASE IM BEGGING YOU THEY ARE THE BASE OF UR BALANCING WOES

ZANE IS STILL UNUSABLE WITHOUT THE SEEIN’ DEAD CLASS MOD!!!!!!!!!!!

MOZE IS SCREWED BC HER DAMAGE IS TOO RELIANT ON ASE ANOINTMENTS!!

AMARA DOESN’T HAVE A FUCKING MELEE BUILD AS THE ADVERTISED MELEE CHARACTER???

FL4K’S HEADCOUNT SKILL IS S T I L L BROKEN EVER SINCE THE RELEASE OF THE MALIWAN TAKEDOWN

ARE YOU GUYS LISTENING TO THE COMMUNITY *PLEASEEEEEEE*

BUFF AND FIX THE GODDAMN VAULT HUNTERS

Anointments were a mistake. Damage end-game is wayyyy too reliant on them

anoints should have a maximum of, like, a 20% damage bonus. the damage necessary to kill enemies *should be coming from the VHs themselves*. i don’t care if you have to revamp every single Vault Hunter’s skill trees and buff them all by 9000%. THEY DESERVE IT AT THIS POINT

at the moment in m10 there really isn’t much build diversity *even between Vault Hunters*. We’re all using the same 5 guns (OPQ System. Kaoson. idk. fuckin brainstormer? is that still a thing? jesus fuck) with the same 3 anointments (100% on ASE, cryo while SNTL, and 300% while 90%).

you want to diversify builds like you said during the gameplay reveal???? you want our choice in Vault Hunter to actually fuckin matter???? FIX THEM!!!! THEY SHOULD BE ABLE TO DEAL DAMAGE WITHOUT STUPID POWERFUL LEGENDARIES AND ANOINTMENTS!!!

Anoints also shouldn’t be common. At all. They should be, like, Pearl rarity. To let that happen, their damage needs to be tuned way the fuck down (again, 20ish % bonus MAX) and ALL ANOINTS NEED TO BE USEFUL IN SOME WAY

NOBODY IS GOING TO USE THE AIRBORNE OR SLIDING ANOINTMENTS JUST REMOVE THEM ALREADY AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

obviously these changes can’t happen because they fucked up and buckled down with everything being anointed in m10, but still

imagine a world where the VHs actually did damage on their own without anointments and the damage buff from them was just an incentive to grind for the 100% perfect weapon and NOT A REQUIREMENT TO DEAL DAMAGE

>:(

A majority of gear is borderline worthless at M10

I’m fine with the difficulty of M10, i should let it be known. The enemy health isn’t really the problem IF ALL GUNS ACTED THE SAME AS THE OPQ SYSTEM

ffs.

you know, if you fixed ur vault hunters so they all did damage with just purple weapons (abt the same damage as legendaries w/o special effects) and removed the anointment requirement from late-game play, balancing your guns would be sooo much easier. you know. just saying.

right now only 10% (im being generous) of guns in the game are viable. 90% are worthless. We need AT LEAST 60-70% viable at M10. WHERE IS MY BUILD DIVERSITY. WHY ARE ALL LEGENDARIES NOW JUST “HEY THIS GUN IS STRONGER THAN THE LAST 4 WE RELEASED. HAVE FUN”

how to fix this problem? do as above: BUFF YOUR PLAYER CHARACTERS. MAKE ANOINTMENTS LESS STRONG.

then, at least the 10% already strong weapons would be stupid strong and OP as fuck, BUT AT LEAST WE COULD HAVE BUILD VARIETY!!! I don’t care if other people are dummy strong one-shotting everything in sight. I don’t! so long as they don’t play with me, I couldn’t care less!!! I want to be able to play with the unique, interesting legendaries. instead of the OPQ System. which, by the way, I dislike compared to the normal Q-System. let me use the frozen heart shield and the infiltrator mod. I don’t wanna be chained to the Seein’ Dead anymore :(

honestly at this point im starting to think removing slag was a mistake bc then at least we could use guns that aren’t solely damage-based guns. you know how fucked up you’ve got me that im thinking maybe slag wouldn’t be so bad this time around??? YOU GOT ME FUCKED UP B A D.

FIX THE GAME

IM TAKING A BREAK

MAYBE I’LL BE LESS UPSET WHEN I COME BACK FOR THE DLC BUT HOT. DIGGITY. SHIT.

[my-love-peterp]

Mistaken Chapter One

Word Count: 2103 THERE ARE NO ENDGAME SPOILERS, THIS IS A DELAYED UPLOAD FROM AO3

Fic Summary: Peter Parker has been given the responsibility of bringing in a new recruit. Now, as an adult, he realizes that none of the trashy YA novels he read in high school could have prepared him for this. There was a storm on the horizon, and all they could do from the Tower is watch.

Chapter Summary: A new recruit is brought into the fold and is more than a handful.

Warnings: language, mentions of injury, non-graphic violence (brief)

A/N:  You may have seen me over @fabtasticass which is my main blog. So this is my first fanfic and it's going to be a big one. It is a Soulmates AU but not in the traditional way. That won't show up until later chapters. I'm going to try to keep endgame a secret the best I can. I have some very angsty ups and downs planned but I'm trying to hold back. So I’ll tag each chapter with what pairing might be in that chapter in the official Tumblr tags but never at the beginning.

I ran, dodging rats, and clumps of unidentified garbage that lay literal feet from a plethora of garbage cans and dumpsters. God, I hated this city.

I especially hated this city in the rain, dashing through back alleys of Queens with all of my belongings in tow.

Rolling in and out of huge asphalt craters, my suitcases jostled my already pained arm. It had only been three or so hours since I’d reset the dislocated joint against my fire escape.

Blood dripped from a split along my hairline, mingling with sweat and city rainwater. At this point, I felt like a drowned cat and probably smelled like a wet dog. Super, awesomely attractive, right?

Bracing myself against the wall of the nearest building, I pulled a flask out of the interior pocket of my jacket and took a swig. The flask was light pink with the words “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” emblazoned on the side. It filled me with a dark sense of glee and irony every time I used it. I nicked it from one of those chain party supply stores a few months back, which I supposed could be my version of fun.

The whiskey burned as it went down but as it hit my stomach it helped to warm my rain-soaked bones.

I began moving again. As I wove in and out of the misshapen piles in the alleyway, I felt the hair prickle on the back of my neck. It felt like I had a curious pair of eyes, tracking my every move and staring me down. I ignored my most basic instinct to turn around and investigate and my training kicked in instead. My eyes swept the alleyway ahead of me, monitoring the shadows, ears open and head down. I checked every shiny surface to see the reflection behind me. Empty alleyways are all that I was shown. So I shoved aside my intrusive paranoia and started whistling tunelessly as I moved. I’d felt that prickle for days and nothing had come of it.

In front of me, business lights filtered through the rain, casting a glow over the stone walls. Wet, sputtering and a little drunk, it only made sense that I was the target of some less friendly men who had stationed themselves outside of a local dive bar. They jeered and reached out at me. “Piss off you assholes, I’m not in the mood.”

Their demented shouts ranged from demands that I take off my clothes, false coos asking me if I needed their help to warm up and jokes about them being so good in bed women were jumping at the chance and willing to move in with them immediately to lock it down.

The rain got harder as I clenched my fist, glaring daggers at them and trying to subtly move faster. Everything about my body language screamed 'don't fuck with me', but it's hard to be intimidating when you're a generous 5'3. They advanced anyways and with a woosh, they all got tossed back into the brick wall, hard. The crack of a few skulls echoed down the empty alley, interrupted only by their groans as a few immediately came to.

The tingling on the back of my neck got more intense, this time joined by a fuzzy feeling alarm in the back of my brain. I hustled along, eager to get the hell out of Queens. I hadn't taken more than three steps when I heard him. “Woah, what was that? I webbed up those guys back there, they won't be able to move for a few hours. What was that though, can you like manipulate energy or is this outside the realm of earthly physics? Are you an alien? Or a mutant maybe? Or..."

Without looking up I sent another blast towards the overly excited voice and immediately heard an oomph followed by the sound of a body rushing towards the pavement. Or, rather, a dumpster.

“Hey not cool,” said the guy, poking his head up and out of the dumpster.

I groaned, immediately recognizing the mask, despite it being covered in what looked a lot like smashed avocado on the left side of the heroes head. Spider-Man.

Pushing my bags together, around my feet, I bound them to myself and alighted on the nearest rooftop, gently floating upward. I figured the enhanced cat was already out of the bag with the current company, so to speak. I ran along the flat roofs of the decrepit, abandoned buildings with still no destination in mind but out.

“Wait up, where are you going, stop! We're friends now right? It's rude to ignore your friends, and I'm the friendliest of friends, you know. Friendly neighborhood Spider-Man and all...” he babbled on lamely, his voice fading in and out as he swung between buildings, keeping up as I hopped from roof to roof.

“Buzz off buggy”, I grumbled before sending another shot his way.

“You’re really bad at paying attention to where I am, aren’t you” Spidey suddenly whispered in my ear. I shrieked and came to a halt, dropping my luggage next to me as I sat to dangle my feet off the ledge of whatever shitty building I was on now. As expected, that lanky ass fool sat down right next to me.

“So, where are you going, miss uh… strange power lady?”

“I don’t kno-” I cut myself off and looked at him strangely. “Wait, why are you even here?”

“Well funny story," he huffed out, looking over at me. His masked eyes contracted as he continued to just look at me in silence for several minutes. I was seconds away from physically shoving him off of the building. For someone who apparently couldn't keep his mouth shut when I wanted him to, he was as silent and one of those monks now when I actually wanted to hear his whiny voice. Then, just as I was about to snap, he lifted his chin and squared his shoulders.

"Have you ever heard of the Avengers?”

Like any normal person on the planet, I obviously had. I may not have been in New York while it was being leveled by aliens over a decade ago, but a person would have to be seriously deprived of outside stimuli to not know who the Avengers were.

Instead of speaking to the impertinent, entirely too perky Avenger at my side, I just glared, sending a message loud enough that even the most inept individual would comprehend me.

“Woah, woah, don’t shoot! You could be like, a really weird and reclusive alien for all I know at this point. The boss didn’t exactly give me all the details when he sent me out to trail you. I don’t even know your name, which tells me that we actually don’t know a whole lot about you…,” he trailed off his rambling as he finally realized I was now staring at him expectantly, waiting to get a word in edgewise.

“My name is Kaida, and I’m not a good person. Also, thanks for the invitation to join your little cult, but I’m going to have to pass.” I stood to leave and find shelter for tonight when all of a sudden a schnick sounded and webbing surrounded my foot, holding me in place.

That sneaky little son of a bitch.

“No can do, we’re going to talk this one out. Either you agree to come in and meet the team or you get to sit here all night and listen to me ramble about them and what ridiculously stupid things we’ve all been up to in the past few months. Your call… Kaida.” He said my name as though it could take form, leap up and bite him.

“Okay Spider, I see you want to play hardball. You take that mask off and I’ll come with you to ‘meet the team’ or whatever touchy-feely bullshit y’all are into over there. But I’m not agreeing without some kind of skin in the game other than my own.” I lifted my chin, triumphantly, secure in the knowledge that he would never reveal his identity to a complete stranger, especially while various factions of the government and private entities were trying to round up enhanced individuals.

Spidey scoffed. “That’s it? It’s not like I was going to leave it on once we got to the tower anyways so, here you go I guess,” and he ripped away his mask as though it didn’t faze him in the slightest.

He was… younger than I had expected. Cute, in a safe, boring schoolboy kind of way.

“What are you, twelve??” I all but shouted at him. There’s no way this kid was the real deal, a bona fide Avenger that had helped save numerous lives, my own included if you count what happened just a few years back.

“I’m twenty-two, thanks though. If I’m twelve, I’ve gotta say you’re a toddler. Granted, a toddler with wicked skills but it’s not like you’re even really an adult at this point, are you? Why aren’t you with your pare-.”

“For one thing, they’re dead. Secondly, I’m twenty but I guarantee you I’ve seen shit that you can’t really even comprehend. Even outside of all the crazy whack alien bullshit you all seem to be attracting. It really ages a person, or so I’ve heard.”

“Oh look at you, pulling the big bad ‘I’m so tough because I’m an orphan and my life wasn’t sunshine and roses’ act. Literally, everyone has bad shit happen to them. From what I’ve just seen and from what we’ve caught on security monitors, you’re wickedly talented and could actually use your powers to help others. Unless you’re too much of a coward, I know we do deal with ‘crazy whack aliens’ and all, but it shouldn’t be hard for a big kid like yourself, huh?”

I had half a mind to blow him off the roof right then and there. Rage swirled in the pit of my gut so violently, I might have vomited had I eaten at all in the past day or so. The wind picked up and began buffeting around the Spider guy and myself, throwing debris from decrepit roof and buildings towards us. All of the shrapnel conveniently avoided my person, but Spidey was dancing back and forth like a puppet on a string.

Deep breaths Kaida, deep breaths. We wouldn’t want another Wizard of Oz-esque incident. Again. I often found myself talking to myself in different perspectives to calm down. Anger, improperly channeled was a very dangerous thing for me, and honestly, I was being a brat just like he was. No need to level an entire city block just for this one intrusive, presumptuous asshat who dressed up like a fucking spider. I wasn’t about to tell him that though.

The wind died down almost immediately. Until it didn’t.

Not a minute later, the biggest bolt of lightning I’d ever seen struck a building a block or so away, no doubt short-circuiting every device plugged in at that residence. Two seconds later there was a solid thunk and next to Spider-Man loomed perhaps the most handsome being in the known universe, Thor. King of Asgard.

“You hit your panic button Man of Spiders. Are you in need of assistance… carrying bags?” Thor looked at you, tied down, and your bags tossed askew, then back at Spidey. Quizzically, he opened his palm and sent a burst of lightning up into the sky, as if looking for something. “All seems to be in perfectly good spirits here, no strange magics… so.”

“Listen, man, two minutes ago she was literally shaking the building so hard I thought we were all going down. I just don’t know how… all I did was ask her some questions, maybe play hardball with her a little,” he just shrugged at the god apologetically.

“Hi, I exist too, and I can speak for myself,” I asserted, repositioning my body so I wasn’t standing quite so hunched over. “We,” I continued, looking at Spidey, “would love your assistance in getting my bags back to wherever this team inspection or meeting is supposed to happen.” Anything to get inside and secure, before I lost it completely.

“As you wish, Lady of the Winds,” Thor almost yelled, thrusting a cane into the sky.

“No, Thor wai-.”

Before the insect could finish whatever he was trying to say, we were engulfed in a kaleidoscope of bright colors and rushed away in the blink of an eye.

So much for having a normal, Wednesday evening.

If you’d like to be tagged in future chapters (I have 28 written) drop me a message or reblog this!! As always, reblogs and comments are appreciated!

[kaywriteswords]

Snacks are good, Self-care is better

You might have noticed the title change and that my pic isn’t just my fun socks and a scale. I couldn’t decide on a  new official blog title so you can expect randomness until I land on one that I love. I’m changing it because weight is not the only thing that matters. When I first started all this, dropping pounds was the primary focus with the hope that other lifestyle changes would follow as I worked toward that goal.  Tracking pounds is measurable, it made sense, but after 5 weeks, it’s kind of stale and not much fun. Some goals aren’t quantifiable, they’re just a feeling. I had way more fun this week practicing self-care by focusing on my skin care routine and attempting meditation. And guess what, while I was doing all that I had less time for snacking, YEAH! This was always supposed to be about total health and wellness, a change of lifestyle. It will take time and I’m willing to give it time, but sharing the journey with all of you keeps me focused on my evolution and accountable to working toward it.

<Weekly Wednesday Weigh-in: 202.4>                                                         <Total Weight Change: +1.8>                                                               <Fluctuation Since Last Week: -2.4>

Amazingly, my weight has trended back down in the last week. Portion control wasn’t great. I cleared half a tray of lasagna one night. Honestly, all I did was cut snacking down by about half for this result. To be clear, I still ate hot cheetos and pounded down half a pack of oreos, a few other things here and there, but significantly less than what I’ve been having in recent weeks. I gave myself a hearty pat on the back for this progress because seriously, I’m subconsciously heading to the fridge and pantry when I sit down to watch TV. It’s almost involuntary. I have to retrain my brain, dissociate watching TV and eating. Now that I’m aware boredom is guiding me, I ask myself two questions: 1. Why are you looking for food? 2. When is the last time you ate?

My workouts matched my intensity levels from the previous week so another pat on the back for consistency. I did get some exercise in 6 out of 7 days, WOOHOO! My pursuit of daily exercise continues again this week with the long-term goal being that I can get an intense, sweat filled session in 5 days/week with two days for yoga spaced accordingly. If I sweat 3 days per week at this point, that would be a win. The yoga has been hard to incorporate. For some reason, leading yourself in a flow is much harder to accomplish than following an instructor. But, there is plenty of free stuff online right now so it’s up to me to take advantage of this opportunity.  

I gave my body some love this past week. Sugar scrub, lip mask, clay mask for my face and I even pumiced my feet… not all in the same day. Even though we know we should take care of our bodies we don’t always. Whether it’s because we feel like we don’t have the time, lack the motivation or just completely forget because it’s not an ingrained habit, our skin suffers. Being conscious of it helps me, because even on the days when I’m not feeling like doing anything, I at least make sure to cleanse my face, tone and moisturize to keep my natural glow on point. Love your body, love yourself.

Hahaha, the meditation. I’m mainly doing it to help reduce anxiety. I get insomnia like a m*tha f*cka so this is one thing, among many different things, that I’m trying to deal with that nonsense. I made an effort to do it 3 out of 7 days, I may or may not have just blown it off completely a couple days, but that is neither here nor there. After two days of wondering if I was doing it right, I headed over to reliable old Google… The type of mediation I seem to practice (yes, there is a variety) is breath awareness/mindful breathing. Essentially, I focus on my inhales and exhales while ignoring all other thoughts that enter my mind. The batting away of random thoughts is almost constant, but I did manage to just breathe for a few breaths. My mind wanders to things like writing this blog, food, work, cheese, the fact that the dog needs a bath, food, wondering how much time is left till the 5 minute alarm goes off. I did make it to 7 minutes one day, but that was only because I set the alarm for the next day and while I was supposed to not be thinking thoughts, I thought, it’s definitely been more than 5 minutes and checked. It is what it is. Dismissing the thoughts is a work in progress and my fight continues this week!

Despite resting on Friday, I still felt like I was running myself ragged with the to-do list by Saturday. We can always find things to do, ways to keep us busy. Maybe it’s being stir-crazy that is making me feel like I should be getting stuff done, but I already waged war on my living space last year (see the Art of Purging posted Feb. 6, 2020). Too bad that didn’t stop me from reorganizing my movies by genre the last 2 days. I think the stir-craziness is manifesting as overloading myself with personal goals to-do list items. I’m putting a stop to it today because I need to find balance. A little routine wouldn’t hurt so I’m going to plan to take my dog on a few short walks throughout the day to build some structure into my aimless days and help with balancing my time. I didn’t realize yesterday was Tuesday until almost 8pm. I’m sure some of you are in the same boat being stuck inside.

My goals for the next week… Keep aiming for those daily 5 minutes of meditation, continue to love on my skin, and space high intensity workouts accordingly with restorative yoga to rest and reset. I’m going to take a pause on specific goals where food and diet are concerned and just be mindful of my portion sizes and snacking habits. Oh, and I think I’m going to allow myself to just give in to those types of days where I can just lay on the couch, take naps, snuggle my dog and do nothing productive. Ultimately, this journey is about total health and wellness, a change of lifestyle, and sometimes the best way to care for ourselves is to do absolutely nothing at all.

[lafuerte01-blog]

It Is Only Impossible if you Don’t Try

IM Cozumel 2019 Race Recap

The hardest part of any story is trying to figure out where to begin. And in this case, do I start where my training began in April 2019 or do we start with race week? Or do you call this story, “A Tale of Two Kilgore’s” because (spoiler alert here) – one Kilgore trained her ass off and woke up at zero dark thirty multiple times throughout her 6 month training and had upwards of 6 hour long brick workouts while the other Kilgore just winged it and finished only an hour and a few minutes after the other.  Thinking back, who was the crazier person?  The one that invested time, lost sleep and spent a lot of money training, or the one that did next to nothing and still earned the coveted Ironman title? But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Let’s start with race week. Met up with my coach a few days before heading out of town for the race.  The good news was there was nothing magical that I needed to know.  I already knew it.  I had practiced it weeks and months on end.  I just needed to execute it.  The downside was I was so amped up and just wanted to RACE.  My mind was ready.  My body was ready.  Unfortunately, it was Monday and I still have 6 days to wait.  So I rested.  Or not really “rested” but went from 1.5 hour swims to 45 minute swim workouts.  And reduced my wattage on bike workouts and didn’t run full sprints at the track.  So I had 3 workouts to keep me busy, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday leading up to my departure to Mexico on Thursday afternoon.

I was never nervous about the race.  I was more nervous about whether or not all my shit would get to Cozumel.  If my bikes would make it unscathed.  If I would forget anything.  Never doing a race of this magnitude, wasn’t sure what I’d need for special needs bike and special needs run.  I prepped a collective 10 hours just packing for the race. And still had to pack for the vacation that followed!  In thinking back, if I could just have someone pack for me, that would have reduced my stress levels 1,000%.  

(Above: all of my OCD packing in action)

I realized during this time there was also no way that 2 bikes and 4 pieces of luggage along with 4 humans would be able to be transported in our Camaro or Altima. People talk about “marathon brain” in terms of forgetfulness during the peak of workouts.  Imagine if I woke up the day we flew out and realized we didn’t have the right cars.  Thankful that my brain was always in overdrive that last week so that I was able to connect with two amazing friends, Kevin and Jonny, to transport us and our luggage in their Texas sized trucks to and from the airport.

(Above: Thank goodness for friends with trucks!)

I learned the night before that my tri-sister Julianne made a sign to send Joe and I off on our trip.  I appreciated her time in making something so badass!

The Flight Out (3 days before the race)

I don’t know how I stumbled upon it but in researching the prior host hotels/resorts and trying to figure out the math for the best flights into either Cozumel or Cancun, I found an American Airlines Vacation package that got us the best flights, direct from DFW to Cozumel with our host resort included. SCORE!  Other options included flying to Cancun and schlepping our things on a ferry to Cozumel. More logistics made for a more stressed out Bethany so obviously the direct option was so worthwhile.  While waiting for the plane, our gate was taken over by families and participants of the race.  Joe joked this would be the fittest flight out that day.  We met up with a couple who were being Sherpas for their friend. We also met up with a lady from California (Lilian) who was hoping to PR this race and get a sub 12:00 (she did! 11:50 was her finish time).  She was with her two young ones and we were happy all our kids were appeased by electronics as it had already been a long day.  

On the plane, Joe ended up switching seats with a family that was separated so the son could sit with his mom.  Let’s face it, he needed all the good karma he could get!  In doing so, he sat next to an IronFamily – Keith and his wife. Apparently Keith got his canisters confiscated at the airport and wasn’t sure where to buy them.  Being the super anal-retentive person I am, I researched and followed every blog and Facebook group related to IM Cozumel and told Joe off-hand during a conversation that if they run out of air canisters at IM Village, we can go to the local tri store called Cabrillas.  Joe relayed that info and Keith was super appreciative.  It’s like they became best buddies that day. And they were buddies the entire weekend to follow- as not only did Joe sit next to him by sheer luck, but Keith and his family happened to be at the same resort.  In the same villa.  Exactly two floors directly below us.  It’s truly a small world.  After arriving in Mexico, we were in a bit of a panic as I found one bike but not the other.  We literally were the last family out of customs because of this one bike bag being separated from the pack.  And it’s not like customs is fast in any way and on top of that we’re on island time so we waited patiently.  

(This is what Cozumel airport looks like when you’re the last one in customs)

On top of it we randomly had to have our bags gone through because that’s what must happen when you’re tired.  So when we exited to get to our shuttle that had been waiting now for an hour and ten minutes, we got accosted by a tour group that posed as a front for our van service.  After realizing they were selling us a tour package, I kindly said no and headed out to our van, curious if it would even be there.  It was.  And after hauling everything into the back we loaded in the van and took in the 25 minute drive through downtown to the resort.  The downtown area was decked out for the race with welcome signs. The island was crazy busy with taxis and scooters everywhere.  I was thankful when we finally arrived at the resort which was away from the hustle and bustle for some authentic, local food and rest.  The family got to experience my favorite cochinta pibil and salbutes yucatecos for dinner.  We had seconds of each.  Dolores was the best waitress by far the entire time at the resort.  We filled our bellies and went to bed.

Friday morning, two days before the race

After waking up, Joe and I assembled our bikes.  It was then that I realized I left a second flat kit back at the house.  If not already familiar, the Kilgore’s have notoriously bad luck at races with flats and spokes but I figured the extra flats I packed would just have to go into my special needs bag and hope I didn’t need a second or third tube before picking up the special needs bag at mile 60 on the route.  

We went to IM village that afternoon to pick up our race packets, find our name on the IM wall, take obligatory photos with the Ironman sign, and look about the IM store to buy all the things.  But since this was an IM branded race co-sponsored with Adeportes, the items weren’t as plentiful as many IM 70.3 races.  And most of it was already picked over.  But maybe that was a good thing because we got out cheaper than if all the things were there.  We obtained our IM wristband, our timing chip, our race bags, all inside a nice IM Cozumel branded backpack along with a nice race belt.  Because Joe is notoriously known for meeting up with random people he doesn’t know, we ran into my FTC teammate Julie Adams and her IronFamily and spoke with them for a while.  He had worn his FTC shirt to go to IM Village in hopes to run into someone; it worked.  

(Above: Awesome name placement)

While at IM village, my brother Brian arrived so the kids and I walked to meet him.  After a brief hello it was about that time that Joe and I had to go to the mandatory athlete briefing.  As we waited in the hot sun, we passed it off as “acclimating to the heat” and saw our IronFamily man Keith there.  Because it was so hot and Brian just landed, we had him take the kids so they didn’t have to be bored out of their minds.  After waiting a half hour or so after the scheduled start for briefing (again, island time) we got into the cool AC building, sat up front, and had a truly enjoyable time meeting our two emcees and announcers for the race. They made a lot of jokes which made for a lighter mood and helped us all feel special for what we were about to embark upon.

SATURDAY (the day before the race!)

I was thankful I spent the 10 hours packing my essentials in advance and took meticulous notes of the contents within (see picture below) because when we picked up our race packets, I essentially just had to place my Ziplock bags into their respective bike, run and special needs bags.   Joe and I got up early to ride our bikes to and from the official swim practice site.   Our bikes were tuned up before the race by Velofix but of course the derailleur was jostled during the flight so my bike had difficulty getting into my middle gears of my big chain.  So I knew after our swim practice I’d need to get in touch with bike tech at the resort. I was excited for the swim and wanted to be able to feel the current that would carry us toward the finish. Unfortunately, my new goggles that I had only swam in 5 times decided to leak during my practice swim.  And there wasn’t a kayak or lily pad for me to rest on to fix them.  These are the moments you need to know how to handle during the choppy start of a swim start anyway.  I pulled off to the side, flutter kicked vertically and tried to adjust my goggles. Still no dice.  After doing a lap with my left goggle trickling in sea water, I decided to get out and reset.  I did a second quick circle swim and things seemed to be ok.  I never got to catch the current and was a bit unnerved that my swim practice wasn’t as great as I expected.  But I got the experience of dealing with unfortunate circumstances and kept my cool.  And it’s an understated important skill not to over exert yourself during a stressful start of a swim before a long race day.

After getting back to the resort, I was thankful to have an onsite mechanic help with my bike and I was relieved to not have to worry about it as again, team Kilgore usually has issues on race day with their bikes.  We still had to transport our bikes and based on our bib number, we were the final group of the day (3:30-5p).  So in the meantime we headed into town to shop at some local stores and shop for souvenirs.  When we got back to the resort, the family headed to the beach while Joe and I lugged our bikes to drop off at bike check-in.   We were the only ones on the bus that picked us up at the resort.  We had time to rack the bikes, get a lay of the swim out portion of the race, our changing tents, and familiarize ourselves with our rack location and bike out.  Joe and I both lucked out that our bikes were racked in the same group; mine was at the front of the rack coming out of the changing tent – Joe’s was at the very end of the rack.  We had a long way to bike out but it didn’t matter – we would just walk our bikes and calm our heart rates to prepare for the long ride ahead of us tomorrow.  

There was a bit of an issue getting the free bus ride back from mandatory bike check in. We waited 30 minutes before even being told there were no more shuttles running to the resorts.   Apparently the bus we rode in on was the last one running but none of the other 10 people waiting with us was told that information.  We met a guy from Cincinnati who graduated from Indian Hill High School- he was there with his wife and they were also doing their first IM race. Also saw Lilian there whom we met at DFW from California doing her 3rd IM.  So after a few of us argued a bit with the IM volunteers about the free shuttle service fiasco, the group won out and we were able to get a bus to take us back to the resort.  It was a minor blip I thought but to be stranded several miles away with no money to go back was a bit unnerving.  Definitely not something I wanted a day before the race.

When we finally returned, we headed out to the beach so I could test out my backup pair of goggles in the ocean.  After doing a few laps in front of the resort and snorkeling with the family, we got showered and met up with my friend Gloria for dinner.  

Side note: you never know what random acquaintance you have from your past may mean to you many years later.  In 1998 I went on a study abroad trip to Merida, Mexico and met up with Gloria Martinez. She was a dance instructor and as part of my cultural studies for 3 months, I learned traditional dances (baile folklorico) and became close friends with her.  We stayed in contact, sent each other many letters and mixed tapes, and here we were face to face again after 21 years.  It was just amazing.  And she would be a MAJOR help and inspiration halfway through the run. I needed her more than I knew. But I’m getting ahead of myself again…..

During dinner Gloria met my family and I got to practice my Spanish while she practiced her English. She gave me a present, a local liquor Xtabentun from the Mayans.  I had remembered having this while in Mexico before and it has a unique taste – liquorish and honey.  In looking at the bottle we have now at home, apparently Joe really likes it – it’s almost gone!  I had my traditional meal before any race, pizza, but wasn’t super hungry.  I realized around 9p I needed to get ready to bed and try to sleep.  It’s common not to sleep too well before a race.  I think I got a solid 5 hours in.  

Race morning

I woke up at 4:20a, 5 minutes before my alarm.  I was ready. Graduation day was here! We asked the front desk the night before when the shuttles would start running; he said 5:30a.  I thought that was late knowing our first transition (T1) opened at 5:15a. Not only that, we had to get to T1 to drop off our special needs bags, set up our shoes and attach our helmets to the bike and check tires for air. And after that had to catch a bus 2.4 miles upward to the swim start.   But again, I trusted the information given.  So after waking and getting dressed and having breakfast, we get to the bus line early only to find out that there’s a big group there already and the race organizers reduced the busses at our resort from 3 to 2.  And the last bus that was coming was the one headed our way – and we were all hoping we’d get on.  Some people were angry and hailed cabs. Others just waited (like us) and hoped to get on.  It was a full bus but we were able to get on and upon arrival we frantically tossed our special needs bags to volunteers, got our bikes set up with nutrition and water bottles situated.  We didn’t top off our tires; we didn’t have time.  We just hoped and prayed they’d be ok.  We walked hurriedly back to the entrance and waited in a ginormous line to catch the busses to take us to swim start.  Met up with Julie from FTC somehow in all the chaos. Again, another issue as we got toward the front, the busses behind us were opening their doors to people waiting behind us so that by the time the busses rolled up, they were full.  Participants were angry and the race volunteers were quick to act.  We squeezed into a bus already full and took a seat at the very back.  I just took deep breaths.  Again, logistics are not fun for me and is super stressful when things get out of whack. Minor inconveniences really but seriously nerve-racking before a long day’s event. I ate another sandwich while taking the bus to the swim start.  Things were going to be ok.  It was then that I realized I had left my UCan back at the hotel.  So I was a few hundred calories under what I had hoped but I also packed a backup sandwich and gel in T1.  And I had been drinking extra water with electrolytes that morning.  I told myself it was going to be ok.

Swim start

Once through the porta pottie line (after realizing they had one for males and females!), Julie and I got on our swim skins, put on Glide and eco-friendly sunscreen (to protect the coral) and tossed our final bag of the day, our morning clothes bag, to the volunteers and headed to our swim start corral.  This being a self-seeded start, Joe and I had strategically decided to put ourselves in the 1:20-1:30 grouping. Julie went ahead as she’s a faster swimmer; we wished her luck! Next time I saw her was on the run – more on that later.

I knew I could swim the 2.4 mile distance in one hour and 30 minutes but also knew the current would be helpful.  We heard the gun go off for the pros and started snaking around our corral toward the front of the pier.  There were drones flying overhead.  We waved. We caught up with the guy from Cincinnati and his wife.  We congratulated them.  Loud music pumping and blaring songs like, “We Will Rock You” by Queen and “Eye of the Tiger.” The pier started to become visible.  I saw people tossing small bean bag sized pouches filled with water.  People were drinking water and putting water on their heads to cool down.  It was 7:40a ish and already warm.  Temps were expected to be a real feel of 90 degrees with little cloud cover.

We were a huddled group of people and the sun was blazing.  I caught sight of the ocean.  It was wavy. Choppy.  NOT like anything we had seen the previous days while on the island. This was going to be fun.  I kept calm.  We were in line with a lady who knew this was our first and saw our watches and told us they only last 14ish hours.  Lovely.  Again, nothing I can do.  I kept fidgeting with my goggles- putting them on and off.  Joe told me to keep them off because they would fog up otherwise. And that’s when I realized I forgot to wipe my goggles with the anti-fog cloth.  Before I knew it, our group was “walking the plank” to the end of the dock.  I placed my goggles on and just like that, I was in the water.  I hit the bottom upon jumping in, not realizing it was shallow, so I bounced up and after 8 seconds, realized I had already pressed start on my watch.  “It’s go time,” I thought.

The swim with all the people and all the waves could have been worse.  I was thankful the swim out to the first of two turns was short.  I saw a ton of marine life.  There was a sign underwater – I couldn’t stop to read it but later learned it said “If you can think it, you can achieve it.”  There were tons of scuba divers watching from the ocean floor. I would have loved to see what that swim looked like from above.  I never got kicked or punched like others on the swim.  I had people swim up on me but they swam around.  I did the same when I came up on others.  I kept with a pack.  I rarely sighted- when I did, there was a huge wave in my face.  I think I only took in one gulp of sea water. At one point I started smiling because I thought my husband was next to me.  It took me a while before I noticed it wasn’t him.   I swam with a pack of people and kept my pace consistent.  I noticed a buoy on my right and thought they were to be on the left so I cut across and in doing so, I caught a nice current.  But after a while I lost people. I saw a kayak.  I was off on my own and in looking the rest of the group was on the left.  So I swam fast to get back with the group.  I couldn’t see ahead with the waves but didn’t want to be so far out on the right, despite the awesome current, to not know where I was.  I kept up with the pack and found some people to draft off of.  I caught sight of a yellow buoy.  It didn’t make sense as most of them were orange other than to distinguish that being the half-way point maybe? I never checked my time or distance on the watch while swimming – I just kept swimming.  My goggles were pretty fogged up by this point.  I got off track again toward the back half of the swim and instead of making a tight turn at the red and final buoy, I instead made a long wide turn to the finish. It’s ok.  I was finishing up and was able to climb the steps up and stop the watch.  HOLY SHIT! I just had a PR swim: 1:23:51.

I took my coach’s advice coming out of the swim, no running – just walk to the changing tent to calm the heart rate down.  I stood for about 15 seconds under a shower to rinse off before going into the women’s changing tent.  My goal was to be in and out of the transition tent in 10 minutes.  I had played and replayed in my head the things to do while in T1.  I ended up doing a full change out from my tri suit and swim skin to bra, bike shorts and a bike top. I had a shower pill towel and a sturdy hand towel to help wipe away any remaining salt.  Salt = chafe and I took a squirt bottle (tip courtesy of Jessica Marchi) full of water and sprayed between cracks and bits.  Once done, I lightly toweled off an put on my bike shorts with Hoo Ha Ride Glide.  I got volunteers to put sunscreen on my body.  Slipped on my HR monitor.  Ate my backup sandwich and drank my water. I just burned about 600 calories on the swim and needed to top off before setting off to ride.  I put on my socks and headed out to my bike.  Got my helmet, clipped it on, got my shoes on and walked the long walk to bike out.  I checked Joe’s bike rack; his bike was still there.  I got nervous.  He’s a better swimmer; assumed he got caught up in the changing tent.  I figured he’d be right behind me in no time on the bike.  Total transition time: 17:02

At the mount line, I was keeping heart rate calm and take it easy.  Even a veteran said everyone goes out fast on the first loop. I had written in permanent market on my leg my metrics for the race: 130-140 power, 78-82 cadence, 135 heart rate. I rode out and set off for a comfortable ride.

The Bike

What I was told to do by my coach was to stop every 20 miles and to pee at mile 40 and 80.  There were approximately 5 rest stops around the island for the 38ish mile loop.  For some strange reason, on my first loop, I decided to hit every single stop and pee at mile 20.  I don’t know why I did this but I realized my error after the first lap when I saw Joe. It didn’t make sense that I was coming up on him around mile 46 when his bike was on the rack when I biked out.  It took a nanosecond for me to realize my error. In hindsight, that extra 2 minutes per stop was ok; I wanted to take it easy.  My HR was averaging 154 and wasn’t budging despite the easy effort.  I attributed it to the heat. I also noticed on the first loop my power didn’t seem to be accurate.  The day before I noticed this as well and texted the coach; asked if that happened what metric to follow – cadence or HR.  Because the course is flat, he suggested both.  I kept true to my cadence and only pushed it when I had to make a legal pass or had to back off when someone overtook me.  Second loop was faster, I know I pushed it but I felt ok.  I ended up grabbing water every 20 miles to top off my bottles and spray myself down (my cooling sleeves, my core, my head).  I saw my brother and kids on the second loop of the bike course; got a shout out from someone there who saw my Hotter than Hell jersey and said, “GO TEXAS!”  The back half of the island was beautiful.  The extra elevation gain was there along with the wind.  Thankful I didn’t have to deal with a lot of wind that day and I knew how to climb hills now so I didn’t let the back half deter me. I got to my special needs bag around mile 60 and reset my fuel. Checked my tires, they were ok so I rode on without the extra canisters or tubes placed within.

The final lap is soul sucking.  You know what to expect which is a blessing and a curse.  The ride through the city was uplifting; you just have to mentally will yourself to the next aide station and hope for some crazy fans out there to support you.  Saw my brother and kids again; got the boost I needed but then had the east side of the island with the hill and unrelenting sun.  I wanted to take in the scenery, the ocean was beautiful and the blue sea mixed with the blue sky only interrupted by the white ocean spray that crested and crashed into the rocky coast.  I noticed the pack was thinning; there was a collective miserable feeling around everyone.  I passed someone and he said, “you’re looking strong.” I muttered something back – I don’t know if it was comprehensible.  I knew I was coming up on mile 90 and after mile 100 every mile after that would be a distance PR.  It was also about this time that I noticed I was getting tired of eating my gels.  No worries I told myself- I had packed a glorious PB&J sandwich in my T2 bag.  I’d have real food soon. And there’d be more on the run course.  I stopped at a final aide station around mile 100 to get more ice and water and sprayed myself down.  The first table there had ran out of water bottles so I had to get off the bike and wait for them to get more water to pour into my bottles.  The bike course was pretty sparse by then and things picked over. By the time I hit the bike in, I honestly don’t remember anything.  I know I was able to get off the bike OK (surprising in and of itself), grab a bottle off my bike and my coach’s bike computer before handing over my bike to a volunteer. Total bike time: 6:49:04.

In the T2 changing tent, I looked around.  It looked desolate.  I checked the time – I seemed to be doing ok.  I asked a volunteer what the local time was.  It was early evening – about 4p.  I had plenty of time.  Did another full change out from bike clothes to run clothes.  Chuckled to myself that I was feeling like Beyonce with all of her change of clothes. I was salt crusted and legs were dirty.  Took 2 shower pills to clean off.  I wanted to clean off to feel better.  I wiped my face.  I put on my hat, my running shoes, my running belt and grabbed my sandwich and headed out to start the final 26.2 miles of this race.  Total time in T2: 19:34.

The Run

I got up and my feet HURT. My arches were super sore.  I walked out of the tent and tried to calm my HR down.  I felt dizzy. I grabbed water from a volunteer but didn’t feel any better.  My watch chimed 30 seconds into the run.  What the hell? I had thought I programmed it for a 90 second run and 30 second walk. NOPE. Forgot the last run I had was programmed from my 30 second sprint track workout and 3 minute walk.  I attempted to change the intervals but my watch said I couldn’t change while an event was in progress. GRRR.  I know what I had to do – this happened at my Houston Marathon where I didn’t have my watch intervals set correctly and had to do it manually – watching the time. It was going to be a long fucking run. While I had PRd my run in Houston that day, this was not going to happen today.  It would however keep my mind “busy” and distracted from the feeling I was having while running.  Funny because all day I was looking forward to the run and now I was trying to figure out how I was going to continue.  Anyone that knows me knows that math isn’t my sweet spot. So my 90:30 run walk intervals weren’t always accurate.  I gave myself grace. Didn’t matter.  Go by feel. Get some food in you.  I tried but my stomach started to heave.  I made it 2 miles by this point and needed food ASAP. I recalled that if I couldn’t eat, to at least chew food and spit it out.  Even taking food into my mouth made me gag.  And my water bottle filled with electrolytes were equally painful to digest. I got dizzy again and tripped and almost fell but by the grace of God caught myself from falling flat on my face. Negative thoughts started creeping in. It was only 2 miles into a 26.2 mile run and I couldn’t eat or drink and was dizzy.  I started looking for a medical tent.  I never saw one.  Honestly – the one time I did see a medic was the last 2-3 miles of my run and by that point, I wasn’t stopping!  In looking around, I saw FTC teammate Julie on her run.  She was running fast; I was walking.  I said hi and she gave me a look that said, “this is miserable.”  She was ahead of me and looked strong. Little did I know she crashed on the bike and was bleeding from her knee. She’s a total badass.  Was that her first loop? Second? Third? Everyone looked fresh and running fast.  I just kept looking at my watch, doing fuzzy math, putting one foot in front of the other.

Along the way, someone asked me if this was a 3 looped course.  I said yes. Knowing that, I was near the turnaround by then and felt better for a bit.  Around mile 6 or so, a supporter saw me and I guess I looked like death warmed over. He approached me as I walked and said, “Drink the flat Pepsi.  Trust me runner. Drink it.  And chase it with a lot of water.  It will do miracles for you!  I know this to be true!”  I looked at him and said I can’t keep anything down.  I was nervous if I drank it I would get sick.  I didn’t want to get sick and get stuck in a medical tent. I just wanted to be done.  But I ran off, got to the next table and took the Dixie cup of flat Pepsi and a small water pouch to chase it.  It worked. I felt better.  The sugar helped.  I tried to eat- still nothing.  Small bits of food here and there that I chewed and spat out.  After the first loop, I felt a bit better.  

I saw Gloria on the run while downtown.  The crowd was festive.  There were still plenty of people on the run.  I would be ok.  After the cheers of the crowd and the noise subsided, I started working on a game plan. That’s when my Garmin gave me a low battery warning.  Shit. Shit shit shit. OK.  New plan – focus on food.  I saw a table with oranges and bananas and pretzels.  I had an orange and it was glorious.  Yes. FOOD! Then I got to the banana. Nope. Couldn’t stomach it.  I nibbled, chewed and spat a half a banana out.  More flat Pepsi and water.  Would grab the pretzels on the way back.  Realized I had to focus on my run/walk intervals if my watch died before I finished the race.  I counted my steps for the run.  336 steps for 90 seconds of running; 26 steps for 30 seconds of rest.  I did this several times before I realized running for 90 seconds was too much.  My body was too weak.  It was getting late and the sun setting. I approached the turn around and looked feverishly for the special needs tent for my bag at mile 13.  I had more food in there but didn’t take it. I grabbed my head lamp but in hindsight I didn’t need it.  I grabbed my light jacket thinking I would get cold as the night settled in, especially with the wind near the sea wall going back into town.  I wrapped the jacket around me and kept running.  Then my watch died around mile 14.  Not that I was disappointed that I didn’t save my watch during the bike, but that I was running blind.  No way to tell if my pace was going super slow or not.  

I saw Joe twice on the run; both times it was when I was going the opposite direction back into town to complete my loops.  He yelled to me, “You’ll finish – you have plenty of time. You’ll get yours.” I wanted to yell back- maybe I did? I can’t recall.  I was in a dark place.  You’d think going into town you’d pick up the excitement.  Mine was the reverse.  I hit my lowest point around miles 17-19.  It was at this time that Gloria saw me coming into town and ran with me. She told me I was doing good. That she was proud of me.  That I have 2.5 hours to finish one more lap. She was willing to get me anything I needed, do anything for me. I knew it was against IM rules to have someone run and walk beside you but I could not tell her no.  Selfishly I needed her.  She was my angel and my saving grace those miles.  As we approached downtown, I told Gloria that she would not be allowed to run with me or be next to me.  Shortly thereafter an IM official came up and told Gloria she needed to let me be.  Gloria asked why and she was told the rule and after giving a very mad face to the volunteer, Gloria wished me well.  

Being as tired and as dizzy as I was, I just wanted to quit.  I felt horrible.  I was right in town so if I wanted to quit, I could just walk up to my family and say, “I tried.”  At one point I humored myself that I couldn’t quit because I had already bought things that said I was an Ironman at IM Village a few days before.  That got me ahead mentally for a half mile or so. But I also just needed to be done. The run was more mental than anything. I had to give myself something to look forward to.  Mile 20. That was the new goal.  I could get to mile 20 and feel fine, I told myself. More oranges and bananas.  I forced a banana down around that time, thinking I could vomit 6 miles and still finish. Still hard to drink my electrolytes so water, water, more water and flat Pepsi when I could stomach it. Spoke briefly to a guy who asked what lap I was on. I said my third.  He was on his as well.  I told him I was just looking for the damned turn around.  He said he was as well.  He looked strong and I told him so and wished him well.  

There was a group of us that kinda stayed together.  We were running and walking around the same pace.  We didn’t talk to each other but it was good to know I wasn’t alone out there hurting.  I could tell my pace slowed.  I didn’t have a damn watch to tell but I knew I couldn’t keep up my pace from before so I ran from cone to cone.  Walked the next set of cones.  Repeat. When the turnaround came, I knew if I got to a 5k I’d be fine.  And I sort of was ok until mile 24.  

Seriously those last two miles were insanely hard.  I strained to hear the roar of the crowd downtown which sounded a lot quieter. Even the loud band that played continuously for hours seemed to have relocated and moved closer to the finish. I needed something to get me by. I saw kind people on the street giving encouragement, “You’re so close!” “Don’t walk, run!” “You’re going to be an Ironman!” “Go, go, go!” That’s when I looked over and saw a medic on her phone. She wasn’t with anyone – just keeping herself busy.  Where the F was she all day? Too late now to stop.  Mile 25.  Was I now going uphill? How long was this corridor?  The band sounded like it was closer now and I could hear a guy on a loudspeaker now.  “…..(inaudible name) ... You Are An IRONMAN!”

My thought process went something like this that last 1.2 miles: drink water. Dump all the food you have stuffed in your tri top bra. Fix your hair.  Make it look like you didn’t just suffer for god knows however long you’ve been out here. And run like hell when you near the finish chute. I walked a good portion of that last mile just willing my brain to adjust to the new game plan.  I inadvertently dropped my water, my lifeline. Damnit! I didn’t want to run with trash in my hand so I jumped a curb and threw it into a trash can and hopped down back onto the course.  Ok.  Jacket is around my waist and I don’t want it.  I’m hot. I can’t toss it.  Damnit – just hold it.  I see a lady on my right who says, “You’ve got this! It’s just around the corner!” and that’s when I started to run.  I mean, run like I meant it.  I saw the red carpet and the lights.  It was a party scene and I was ready to …… sit the fuck down.  But first, that finish line.  That glorious finish line.  I looked up – did that time say 15 hours and something? I thought I was closer to 16 by my walking pace those last few miles.  That gave me a bit of a pep in my step.  I put my hand over my mouth – I started to tear up and then I heard, “That’s my sister!” and saw my brother Brian, Gloria, Kaia and my son Kyler with his hand stretched out to high five me.  It was a brief second but that moment of seeing their faces and getting that final power boost from my son got me across that finish line.  

I heard before I even crossed the finish, “Bethany Kilgore from McKinney, Texas – You are an Ironman!” and then I saw the ramp.  A ramp! I had to go up and down that thing and not fall flat on my ass.  I was depleted of food, water, electrolytes, and was high on adrenaline so by the time I crossed I walked gingerly across the threshold where some kind man grabbed my arm and guided me through the finisher chute.  Total run time: 6:13:01.  Total time at finish: 15:02:31.

Through the chute, my kind guide asked me, “Do you want water? Gatorade?” I said no.  He said, “I bet you’ll never want another Gatorade for a few months.” I smiled.  Then he told me I was going to receive my medal.  Medal placed around my head; a few congrats.  Ok.  More walking. Then he said someone had to get my timing chip.  Great. Next he asked if I wanted food. NOOOOO.  No food.  Ok, so he walked me to get my finisher shirt.  I stood in a daze as someone handed me my finisher shirt.  I looked around and noticed the line to get my finisher photo. Ugh.  I didn’t have the energy to wait.  Everyone looked so full of life.  I wanted to sit.  A nice lady helped me with my things, she fixed my visor which I always wear so low and held all of my sweaty things as I gave a few pained smiles.  I saw the rendezvous spot to meet my family.  I heard my name and got some hugs.  I was super thankful to be done but fell like crap.  I thought fresh clothes and sitting would make me feel better. After getting my clothes and changing (which took eternity with tons of foot cramps), I stood up and met my family on a bench.  I couldn’t talk without fear of getting sick.  I was still dizzy so I wanted to lay down.  As soon as I tried to lay down I started dry heaving. Nothing would come but saliva. I knew I was in a bad way so my friend Gloria sought a medic while my brother and kids waited for Joe to finish.  I got into a wheel chair and was admitted.  It looked like a war zone.  People messed up far worse than me.  People with EKGs on their chest.  Others getting massages from their cramped legs.  The guy next to me screaming from his leg cramp getting worked out.  I had a nurse come around asking if I was allergic to anything – “just penicillin” I said.  She thought it was odd that the three people in bed next to each other were all allergic to penicillin.  A nice doctor came over and said I was going to get an IV.  A nurse came over and stuck my left arm. Nothing.  Stuck my right arm and moved the needle around.  Nothing.  Had to call over someone else to get to my vein and finally got it in on top of my right hand.  I was hot and didn’t want a blanket.  I was in my sports bra and shorts that I had changed into along with my Oofos.  It took a while to get the fluids in even halfway through and by then I started to get cold.  I got an awesome space blanket and neck massage.  I strained to hear my husband’s name called but it was busy and loud in the tent.  I asked if the medic tent was busy now and the nurse said no, but that it was busy earlier – not enough beds to triage people to get in and get assistance. I got word that Joe crossed and was ok.  I was upset that I couldn’t see him cross the finish line but was thankful I felt better at that point.  I lulled off to sleep.

The kind doctor that attended to me let me know the medical tent was closing.  My fluids weren’t all the way done but I was feeling better.  I was thankful to see my family and Gloria waiting outside of the tent.  I felt a LOT better.  I was eager to shower and go home and sleep.  I said my thanks and goodbyes to Gloria and we got a cab.  Back at the resort, I told my brother to see if he could get something salty like fries and chips from the late night snack bar.  He came back with fries and nachos.  I couldn’t eat much but what I did tasted like food for the gods.  Brian let Joe and I go to rest; I miraculously had enough energy to take a shower and rinse out all of our bike bottles before laying my head on the pillow. I looked over at the time.  3:25a. Exactly 23 hours of activity that day.  

Was it worth it? Yes. It tested everything I had.  I learned that Joe crossed about an hour after me with little to no training.  And he didn’t need a medical tent.  But he ran his race; I ran mine.  We did what we each had to do and both became Ironmen that day.  It’s been 5 days; I’m hard pressed to want to do this again whereas Joe is eager to go back next year.  I’ll happily be his Sherpa!

What I’ve learned throughout this experience is that while this is a challenge of three sports for one person to complete, it’s a necessity to have a village of people that help you get to that finish line.  

For everyone that has helped me with any of my training swim, bikes or runs

For the friends that have put up with my insane training schedule and understood that my absence from any social life was temporary (and forgave me when I unintentionally fell asleep at social gatherings when I did go out)

For my daughter who gave me grace when I missed more than half of her soccer games this fall and passed out around 7:30p on the couch during cuddle time

For my son who was patient in getting the adequate drive time in to help him earn his drivers license

Collectively for my kids who allowed their parents to do a race smack dab in the middle of our family vacation

For my coaches who put up with my incessant questions

For my brother’s family for their understanding while they were in the midst of moving into a new home and for my nephew for allowing me to take his dad away on his birthday.  I needed my brother’s help post-race and to have fun with the kids while their parents were out doing a silly race

For my dear friend of 20 years Gloria who trekked across the Yucatan Peninsula and took a ferry to Cozumel to cheer me on for 15+ hours

And for my husband who made all the dinners, made all of the post-long weekend workout meals, and kept my insanity in check….

I thank you all. 

(Above: my new favorite Christmas ornament next to some of my favorite ornaments: my kids, an old Santa - my grandfather’s who died of cancer, my best friend Lisa and I, and a Mexican sombrero ornament from 1997)

Above: The Kilgore’s enjoying a relaxing day visiting San Gervasio ruins on Cozumel island.... post-race

[kjaerekrake]

“self-care” tips that are... well idk

i see a lot of posts here that are all cutesy with self care and while i love those, here are some tips from a person struggling with their mental health pretty harshly. These things have helped me over the past year manage my life a bit easier as I’ve learned from experience.

make a list of things as soon as you need/ run out of them. you’ll be more likely to forget when you actually need to make a list, and you’ll be more likely to buy more stuff and spend more money if you don’t

use two laundry hampers. one for clean and one for dirty. it’ll help on those days you feel too lazy or tired to separate your clothes or put them away

do your laundry in a timely manner. you’ll mess up the system otherwise and then have a room full of laundry. trust me you don’t want to do this, it’ll make you feel worse more than anything and that’s the truth.

clean your room in sections. It’ll make it feel less overwhelming plus giving you time for breaks to recharge. 

stop telling yourself you will do a chore, if you feel like doing it (cleaning, laundry, washing dishes etc.) do it right then. If you set a time for yourself to do it, you will set yourself back. You’ll be less likely to follow through and it will make you feel worse.

delete your social media every once in a while. sometimes the pressure of seeing other people happy will get you down more than you realize. when you start to realize this, deactivate for a bit and spend some time to yourself. Do not think about it

cook meals that will last for a few days, but make sure to make a variety. you’ll spend less money on food, plus for those days where you don’t want to go out and see people you’ll have something to eat at least. cook a variety for when you know you won’t want to eat the same thing over and over again

read at least one - a couple of pages a day.

if you’re allergic to dust, and sleep with a fan clean your fan/fans at least once every two weeks - once a month. depending on the fan (my ceiling fan builds up dust pretty quickly whereas my box fan collects too much dust every month or so). just clean it, it’ll save you allergies and sickness

listen to new music instead of that same playlist you play every day in the car/ at home. it’ll help just trust me. whether that be a new genre or new artist, just listen to new music

light candles in a room that isn’t your own (living room, kitchen etc.).  I don’t know why this helps it just does, at least for me. When you walk by the room, take time too smell it.

if you find yourself forgetting to respond to friends, set short timers or write notes telling you that you’re texting that person. you’ll be less likely to forget(I’m still working on this myself, sorry amanda!)

stop looking at things you hate. stop coming back to websites you hate or youtubers you hate or blogs or anything. it’s bad for you and it does nothing but worsen your health and make you very spiteful and hateful. delete it, unfollow unsubscribe, whatever but stop coming back to it.

brush your teeth. Like i can’t stress this enough, brush your fucking teeth please. even if you aren’t going out, just do it. 

wash your face

set reminders to check your email. if you let your email build up, it will make you feel bad. trust me I know, i have around 958 right now and it’s stressing me out

try to sleep at a consistent time every day and try to wake up at the same time every day. i use to sleep until around 14:00-16:00 everyday and then i started forcing myself to wake up at 10:30., which forced me to sleep around the same time. However if you sleep in really late, try starting small. Maybe aim for noon, then 11, then 10 then 9 and so on. good way to reset your sleeping schedule.

when you wake up, immediately get up out of bed. If it helps, play on your phone a bit to help you wake up, but otherwise,get up and open curtains, make some tea or coffee and read or clean. Just wake up.

take naps. not long ones, short 30 min- an hour ones. They help a lot i cannot stress this enough.

clean your bed, get stuff off of your bed. your bed should be your sanctuary, not a mess full of clothes instruments and books (this is me @ing myself whoops). regularly clean your bed.

when you feel anxious, remove yourself from the situation as much as you can. if you are unable to, breathe, just keep breathing and focus on that. or focus on a nice song you like and hum it. distract yourself and sit down if you get that anxious, nervous feeling in your stomach. look at someone’s mouth when they are talking instead of their eyes, pay attention to what they are saying. it makes me less nervous than direct eye contact. if you’re afraid to walk into a room somewhere (like i get a lot) walk slowly and keep your face neutral, find somewhere to go immediately, and if you can’t because you don’t know where to go, smile at someone important looking, that might make them more inclined to help you. (at least, that’s worked in my case, if anything, look around the room and see what everyone else is doing)

wear things you wouldn’t usually wear, only look at the good. if any bad things come to mind either ignore them or brainstorm what you can do to improve them. don’t feel discouraged, don’t let yourself feel that! you know you can rock whatever it is you want to.

have schedule/planner for things. set a time for things you know are coming up (this is not for chores, those you should do when you think of them, don’t push them off). Do this for big events or classes or work.

journal and take pictures, purely for yourself. don’t let anyone else see unless your comfortable with that. for example make an instagram for your eyes only and take pictures and then journal about it. easiest way for a visual diary in my opinion

[avengers-sweethearts]

Right Place, Right Time (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Request for @dreamsofcaliforniaadventure: Congrats on the 2000!!!! That’s such an accomplishment and your blog def deserves it!! Can I possibly have a one shot? Either Peter Parker x female reader in college scenario, or Captain America x female reader (college age)? Whatever is easier! Can be fluffy or angsty, whatever is easier for you would be so appreciated!! My name’s Morgan if you need it! Thanks so much!!!!

Summer seemed to slip away regardless how much the season was cherished. There’s just never enough time to do everything you want to do on top of the things you have to. Spending time with the people you care for, doing all the fun summer activities, working a summer job, preparing for the following academic year, maybe rest was a little too much to ask for. But alas, you found yourself packing up the car once again within a blink of an eye.

They say that high school is supposed to be the best time of your life, you just found that fact to be totally unrealistic. Not that college life is all that much better, but the freedoms that came with it are much more desirable than a building based on a bell system.

You can remember the students that led your campus tours over dramatically hyping up the college experience to be this sort of escape where you find your true self, which is true for some, but you just haven’t found it yet. Yes, it is quite enjoyable not having to wake up at 6am every morning, but college was just way different than you expected. You found yourself bored in your classes, and not knowing what to do with your spare time. It can get a little lonely, being just another person in a large crowd. It seemed like everyone else around knew exactly what they were doing, so you just tried your best to fit in. Another thing you found yourself especially focused on was how different it was living with a roommate in a more confined space instead of your comfortable bedroom at home. Not that different is a bad thing, it just takes some getting used to.

You found yourself walking around campus on a crisp fall evening, just trying to clear your head. Honestly you probably could use the exercise too, you’ve watched the Freshman 15 effect so many other students, so you convinced yourself to leave your comfort zone a little bit by taking a leisurely stroll after class rather than heading straight back to your dorm.

You reprimanded yourself for not wearing your favorite sweatpants this morning while deciding to go on this adventure on a whim. This morning you thought it wouldn’t kill to try and look cute for once since you lived in the comfort of waking up 15 minutes before class and walking over in your favorite baggy T-Shirt and stretch pants. Today was not that day. The outfit was nothing special really, just a long maroon sweater with dark leggings and brown boots that rose to your mid-calf. It was comfortable, but just not as comfortable as your favorite sweatpants would be granted how chilly it was getting outside. It did feel good, however, to walk around and feel cute for once. The compliments you got from some of your classmates was an extra boost for the day.  

Walking past the student union you saw a few of your fellow classmates heading inside. Their laughter filled the space and you overheard that they were headed for the coffee shop. Something warm didn’t seem like such a bad idea as your fingers started to feel like they were turning to ice. It was too late in the day for coffee, you knew you’d be up all night if you had the caffeine, but you deserved a treat nevertheless.  

The smell of freshly baked pastries and bread overpowered the small cafe. You couldn’t believe that you had never been here before and made a mental note to come in more often, it seemed like a cute and quiet place to get some homework done instead of being wound up in your box of a dorm room all the time.

You stood as far back as possible from your classmates in line to make it seem like you hadn’t followed them in, it’s not like they knew you anyway but it would just be awkward to explain why you, the girl that sits in the back of their English class, were supposedly tagging along for their coffee get together without invitation. They didn’t seem to notice, which was good, but the guy in front of you caught your eye a little too long for comfort as you turned the corner. You immediately looked to the floor embarrassed and decided to take a seat at a table close by to make it seem like you were on your own mission. He was not hard on the eyes needless to say and had the most beautiful blue eyes you have ever seen, and you were afraid he noticed your entrancement before you looked to your shoes.

Retreated to your table, you watched as they bombarded the barista with their complicated orders, which you could relate to but customer service sucks in general. Your classmates were nice and all, but as customers they were rather picky and you didn’t want to be on the other end of it. You heard a bit of arguing from the peanut gallery as the new found hottie was up to order.

“No I insist guys, it’s on me this time. And a warm apple cider for me please, that will be all,” you heard him direct toward the barista.

“Seriously, Steve, you did not have to do that! It was my turn to pay,” one of the girls kind of whined. So called hottie had a name.

“Omg Jessica just say thank you and move on,” another girl snapped.

“Thanks pal,” one of the guys clapped Steve on the back.

“Anytime. Now I really have to run, I’ll see you guys later.”

You acted as natural as possible behind your laptop screen as Steve walked past you for the exit. You urged yourself not to look at him in fear that he would say something. You didn’t know why you were freaking out over a guy, a stranger even, but here you were following him and his friends into a coffee shop. His friends stayed around to finish their beverages, and you stayed and finished some homework which is rather unintended. As you wrapped up the final sentences of a rough draft you decided to grab a warm apple cider to go and continue your journey for the day.

Wandering around campus with no agenda was rather different than walking with a purpose to get to class. You started to really notice the little things along with the architecture and its beauty, as well as the progression that fall has made. The yellow, orange, and red colors popping up from the leaves, the sun that's setting a little earlier, the chill in the air, your eyes were just open in a different way. You found a little nature trail and decided to walk down it for the heck of it.

The leaves crunched beneath your feet and there were trees surrounding you on each side of the path. Honestly, it was a beautiful but simple place and you could hear the peaceful trickling from the stream coming from your left. You never took yourself to be the nature admirer, but you didn’t mind finding that out about yourself. You found an opening in the trees with a conveniently placed bench to overlook the water. Pulling out your book from your handbag, you indulged in a perfect reading spot.

After about ten minutes or so you felt an even cooler breeze rush by, as well as a flash of grey. You watched as a rather muscular male in a grey tight fit under armour shirt, black track pants, headphones in, and a baseball cap go farther into the distance. Nature walks and people watching was just becoming your new thing. It was relaxing and you felt detached from your overly stressful days for once. No matter how weird or creepy it may be, you were in no way judging your new found escape.

The only thing that you found weird was you kept seeing the same runner in grey flash by every so often. You swear you even saw him wave at you once, but you pretended that you weren’t looking. You were confused as to why he was running on this same path over and over, why wouldn’t he just go to the student rec center and run around the track if he wanted to do that? You marked your place in your book, shoving it in your handbag and began walking down the trail again. It was getting dark and cold without a jacket so you decided your adventure for the day should come to an end. You were lost in your train of thought and, despite the embarrassment, you felt really good. While following your crazy escapade of the day, it was still productive and you felt refreshed like someone hit a reset button on your week.

“On your left,” you heard a raspy and sort of out of breath voice boom out of nowhere from behind you.

You jumped out of your skin as the same runner flew past you causing goosebumps to form from the chill of the evening and breeze. You grew a little frustrated with the male figure and wondered why he felt it was necessary to scare the crap out of you when there was clearly no one else around. If he were to run by without saying anything it wouldn’t have been too big of a deal. The voice also sounded familiar, but you couldn’t place where from. You almost sped walked back to your dorm wrapping your arms around yourself and clutching onto your bag. As soon as your head hit the pillow, you were out. The overabundance of fresh air must have been the cure for your insomnia for the day.

The next day you decided to go to the coffee shop before classes. You didn’t order anything, because honestly you couldn’t afford a treat like that everyday, but you just enjoyed being in the environment. It was a good way to start the day and you felt like you could take on the day after living vicariously by watching people come alive after their first cups of coffee.

The next few hours you never would have expected. Since you decided to go with the flow yesterday, you forgot to check your planner when you got back to your dorm. Although you were productive, you completely forgot about your math exam and your big English paper that was due. You managed to make it through your exam just fine, but you were having a slight panic attack when your professor was going around collecting everyone’s printed copy of their paper. It felt like he reached your desk in slow motion.

“Where is your paper Ms?” His voice echoed sternly.

“I forgot to print it off, I can have it in your office by the end of the day if that’s okay…”

“I have a no late work policy, I can’t believe you’d think you would be an exception to that rule. I don’t reward laziness,” he looked down on you. You fumbled with your words and felt your voice shake from the nerves. You couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Sir it’s really not like that, I submitted it online as well if you would please…”

“Take the grade, no exceptions,” he almost yelled as he moved along.

You fought back the tears that were inevitably forming as your professor handed out the new writing assignment and started his lecture. You could feel people staring at you as the he emphasized the due date on the back of the guideline sheet. You weren’t paying much attention anyway so you gathered your things and bolted out the door to get yourself out of your misery.

You finally let the tears escape as you walked toward the coffee shop. Somehow you thought that being in that setting would take the awful weight bearing mood off your shoulders. It didn’t seem to work as you sat down at a table. The tears just kept coming. Normally things like this did not bother you that much, life happens. For some reason you were just feeling extra self aware today and that affected almost everything. Setting your head in your hands you didn’t notice the chair across from you being pulled out.

“Hey, are you alright?” You heard as you felt a gentle touch on your forearm. You slowly lifted your eyes to see who had sat down, and to your surprise it was Steve from the other day.

“Yeah, yeah of course,” you said as you wiped some stray tears from your face.

“Honestly, if it were me in your shoes I wouldn’t be okay so you have every right to say not to be I won’t judge. That professor was a little bit more than harsh, you didn’t do or say anything wrong and he should have heard you out,” he tried to reassure you.

“Really I’m fine. It’s more embarrassing to be crying over something like this, let alone crying in public so I just need to get myself together. He was right, laziness shouldn’t be rewarded. I should have just gone to the library and printed it when I finished instead of waiting until the next day when I’m bound to forget,” you started to ramble. Silence came over the two of you and just sat in each others company which gave you time to return to a state of normal and clear your mind of all the negativity. After a while Steve spoke up.

“I don’t believe we’ve formally met. I’m Steve Rogers.”

“Y/n, Y/n Y/L/n,” you replied as you shook hands. “I promise I’m not always this emotional,” you joked.

“No I totally get it. I’m so sorry but I’ve got a class in ten minutes, it was really nice to finally meet you, Y/n.”

“You too, see you around!”

Watching Steve leave felt a lot more like déjà vu than it probably should have. You felt even more awful after he left, you probably looked like such a fool. You barely knew the guy, but you knew that you blew any chance of ever seeing him again outside of class due to today. Nobody in their right mind would ever walk into something that seems complicated. You didn’t know why you cared so much, but you felt grateful that he came to check in you yet still very embarrassed. You dragged yourself out of the coffee shop after sitting there for nearly an hour dreading everything about the day. You felt like the barista was keeping tabs on you, like you were a character on a reality TV show ever since you walked in.

“Have a great day,” the barista faked a smile. You waved as you walked away trying not to gather more attention to yourself.

Your feet pushed yourself toward the spot you had discovered yesterday, and you couldn’t complain. You plopped down on the bench and crossed your leg as you looked out on the water. The water seemed to flow effortlessly, you wondered what that felt like. To live life effortlessly. You watched as the leaves fell into the stream and were carried away by the current. Despite the day you’ve had, you were starting to feel relaxed again.

“I had a feeling I’d find you here,” you turned your head to find Steve walking up to you. “Do you mind if I sit?”

“No not at all,” you scooched over for him. “What do you mean you’d find me here?”

“Oh um, it’s just a nice spot is all.” You looked over at him and noticed the baseball cap shadowing his face and gave him a cynical look. He laughed as he quickly took it off and shoved it in his bag.

“I thought you could use this,” he handed you a warm paper cup filled with nothing other than apple cider. His fingers grazed against yours a little as he handed you the beverage.

“Oh thank you, but you really didn’t have to,” you blushed.

“No big deal. I know that it’s something that makes me feel a little bit better on a crappy day, so why not share it with someone.”

You sat and talked with Steve for what felt like hours, and it felt really good to have someone that listens and makes good company. It feels like talking to a wall when communicating with your roommate so this was a step in the right direction. It turns out you have a lot in common and he’s as much of a bookworm as you are. You both ended up pulling out your books and reading for a little while. He just felt so genuine to be around, and there are not a lot of guys like that especially on a college campus. Your teeth started to chatter as the sun started to set again, you hadn’t realized how much time actually went by.

“Here.” Steve wrapped his jacket around your shoulders. “We should get out of here, I’ll walk you back to your dorm,” you smiled at the gesture and went to grab your things when you realized you didn’t have a bookmark.

Steve grinned as he pulled out a piece of notebook paper and scribbled the word “bookmark” on it and handed it to you.

“Thanks,” you blushed again. He grabbed your hand helping you up as you put your book away and to your surprise he didn’t let go.

You walked hand in hand until you reached your building. You honestly didn’t want this moment to end, it kind of felt like a scene from a movie.

“So I’ll see you around, Y/n?”

“For sure. See you around Steve,” you said as you swiped into your building. “Have a good night.” You opened the door just enough for you to get inside, leaving Steve out in the darkening fall night. You had butterflies in your stomach and when you got back to your room you flopped on the bed.

You decided to calm you never ending nerves by reading more of your book. Turning to the page with Steve’s homemade bookmark, you flip it over to find her didn’t just write “bookmark” after all.

“Call me - Steve <3”

You were left with a smile on your face as you made his contact in your phone. College wasn’t so bad after all.

Permanent Taglist: @allfandomxreader @smexylemony @keithseabrook27 @pureawesomeness001 @desuuuu2nd @allofthebitters @musicgirl234 @taronegertonlover

[juun-the-aira-mun]

600 Follower Giveaway and Follower Forever!

Listen up, everyone!

It has been three long, long years since I started my journey on tumblr and I have gone an incredible way from the beginning. When I started I didn’t expect to even get a doozen followers and now look at where the blog has come to (even though it is still as deserted as back then most of the time).

SO now I want to say “Thank you, everyone.” Some people have helped me outside of this blog, in a certain sense in reallife, others have given me a lot of fun with the roleplays I have. There are a lot of followers I really owe a lot to in one way or another. And while I can’t say thank you to everyone, I can still direct certain people further below.

To that I am going to make a Giveaway that is directed at OCs in the community moreover than the people who play canon characters. While this sounds harsh on said people, I want to give OCs a bit of love or try to at least. I know how hard the community can be on them and how little some of them get no matter what so I think this gievaway will be justified. More about this will be posted relatively soon, hopefully during this very week even.

So, now to the specific thanks that I will direct at people around. Some might be a bit surprising as the people might never have interacted with me, others will very well be no surprise at all. I just will tag everyone I think I should make a note on! And while I usually see these things swamped with tags at all followers, I think I will pass on that for now!

@thecatofdarkness Hey sis :3 I mean, really, my shipping partner, my sister in soul or mind or whatever you want to call it, the one I often have to say “Donchu dare” to in all sorts of variations. If I were to not put you here first, I think I should be leaving this blog right now. I am allways happy with whatever you do for our muses, for me and whatever you message me with to tell me. I adore Ren and our conversations and am more than happy that a thread of a cheeky teasing cat evolved in a more than complicated and incredible detailed relationship. You listen to me rambling and groaning and are there when I need someone to talk to. Really, I can’t thank you enough. So thank you. Just thank you for being there.

@shukuchiisms Tales of Ice, flametales, do you remember these names? And how luna was a Skyrim muse way back? Or a fluffball that you would cuddle before the blog reset that turned her into a bloodsoaked monster that now has to deal with a Shadowlady that annoys the heck out of her and at the same time makes her melt? Holy hell, we never really got to any roleplays. All of our msues history is entirely set up in IM alone and yet it all makes sense. I love your character, I love talking to you and I allways grumble that we barely talk with each other anymore. I really, REALLY hope you come back to your bloga s an active member of the community and as the goofey idiot you sometimes are that gets bitten by his muse who definitly did not try to kill you with that. Thank you for sticking around with me.

You two were the ones who kept me in the blog. If you hadn’t been there, I would probably have abandoned the blog for real 2 years ago. Thank you. A round of applaus.

@crystals-angel Hello owo Remember me .3.? Yes, we barely talk. Yes, we had both our differences and our nice conversations. And yes, we basically talk apart from each other a good 40% of the time. But you are still a person I am happy to not have missed back when I found your blog. It is already so clouded as to how that happened that I am almost sure that it was just a random blog recommondation that caught my eye but what came of it is still incredible valuable for me. I was sad when you ahd deleted your blog back then and I was happy when I found you on skype and you reopened your blog. Your muses are diverse, Fawniss is a total goof that can sometimes just be described as adorable and at other times is just badass. I am happy for our interactions. And I really hope that we can talk more and interact more in the future.

@thecelestialchibi1 Muhahaha, I bet you weren’t even expecting me to tag you here :3c Or maybe you were. Knowing you, you weren’t and since you don’t roleplay anymore or use tumblr it wouldn’t really surprise me xD But you are still here. You are one of these people who I could just take and shake for half a minute while giving you a lecture about why you are awesome and you shouldn’t hate yourself or dislike yourself or ... whatever there is else you could think about yourself that is negative. You are an awesome person and I hope to see you again around in the future. For now there will be more patting and pouting in Discord though!

@castdeath Well, this one is actually surprising. I feel like we parted in a more negative way than I would like, but I am convinced that we can work through that ... somehow. I hope we can set these differences aside. We only did one single play so far but that one was very much important to me. I don’t get to play Aira in her AU that much. And I only that oen time got the chance to actually play her out the way she is. I hope we can return to being friends. I really do. (I also hope you are fine by now. Fucking storm sucking out all joy of the stuff we had going just from the time it forced you away).

@properbalance Boop :3 While the origin between us will remain a mystery, I have come to like you and come to like talking to you a lot. You are very hard to get a hold of though, one day ypou will be there, the next you will be gone for half a year to never be seen again. Just to pop up out of nowhere. I hope we will find the ways to do things in the future. But for now I will gladly focus on the idioticiy that we are doing anyways and will look forward to whatever idioticy we can brew up from thing air from now on xD

@staardusts You are probably the one who just jumped onto this list the most recent. You are the only Soraka-mun who ever had taken the time to show interest in my muse, the only one who bothered enough to actually think would could go on. And to add to that you are so incredibly nice as a person that I simply love talking to you in private. I hope things brighten up for you and I hope that we can continue and build up something special!

@littledesertsparrow I mean ... you and your muse are both adorable in their own ways. So far I had nothing but fun talking with you. Well, disregarding the one thing with my clinginess. Sorry for that once more, I am trying my best to change it currently. Your Taliyah is very unique and I think you play her in a one time way that noone else would be able to achieve. Even though I still don’t know how you managed to start shipping Darius and Taliyah. Then again, I managed shipping Elise and Quinn >.> Don’t ask how. I really, really hope we can make some things happen in the future between our muses and maybe between each other as a person as so far I just had a blast talking to you and sending things in for you to answer. And yes, I know this wording is weird. I am not good at social interactions :3

@rinidinger We abrely ever talked BUT you are one of the reasons I even started this entire blog xD I still have the old things I tried to make for an Ingame Model for Rin somewhere on my PC. Even though we did indeed never interact and there were only a handful of conevrsation, it is very easy for me tos ay thank you for your character and what you did for the community. You and two other blogs alone inspired me to start roleplaying here. And I made lots of friends due to that!

@asknasus-thecuratorofthesands Youuuu are probably dead. I think. I am not sure. But your blog is dead for sure. Thank you for the memories and the time our muses shared. They have helped develop my muse a lot and I am more than grateful for you to accept me just jumping in your inbox as if our muses knew each other and just going with it unlike other people who I did it back then with long before IM were even a thing and plotting was new to me. You helped my character to develop and it pulled it through the earliest stages of the blogs development. Thank you, kind sir. You helped me a lot.

@lillium-the-scout I ... think I should put you in this list as well. I have no clue what happened back then. I don’t know what the entire drama was that you were involved witha nd I honestly care little for it. I am not even sure that the mun I am tagging here is the same mun who played with Aira back in the early months’ of the blog. But for the chance that it was, disregarding every rumour and every bad reputation: Thank you for back then. You were one of the first roleplay partners I had. Even though in hindsight the entire starting ship was a terrible idea. I stilll want to thank you for the experience.

@askspiderqueen  I have to thank you for the single interaction we had with our muses. It might not make a lot of sense but it showed me a lot of things about hwo I paly my character and what she does. I really, REALLY want to interact and talk to you more, but I fear our muses just won’t work out. Elise being pissed and Aira having no real reason to ever visit the Spiderqueen. maybe I will find a way in the future. For now I thank you.A nd silently hope you might eba ctive again. Because your character is a lot of fun to read.

@noxian-rose We literally never roleplayed and we barely talked because I am shy as hell and SCARED like hell to approach you. But your character is amazing in the way you play her. I have been watchng your rolepalys in the past with excitement and am allways happy to see you on my dash. It pulled me back into roleplaying a while back. Thank you for that. Maybe things will come by in the future.

@shorthammertime And at last the mun I literally allways feel like I upset them when they suddenly stop to reply. I think of all the people on this list, you made me laugh most. Your muses are incredible, your love for them is noticeable and you yourself are just a fun person to talk with. I still hope that we might roleplay someday with each other. When I can’t tell. But I can at least hope.

Honorable mentions: These are a few people that I wanted to mention because they give me life in their roleplays or because I roleplayed or roleplay with them. Because I enjoyed our conversations or anything otherwise similar. Thank all of you for what you have given me. I will cherish it. Promise.

@ladyem-s-grimoire @verum-exsolutus @lustful-heavens @sexydeceiver @the-demacian-pariah @grabthelantern @maiden-soraka @the-everchild @ask-xayah-therebel @seliniakocharitos @sacredtempest

Thank all of you so much. Let’s hope that the future stays bright.

[henmonarch]

9 Ways to improve virtual team communication

As our new world of working continues to reveal itself, virtual teamworking is fast becoming a standard in many organisations. With more teams working fully virtually and others at least working partly on a virtual basis, there is a growing need for virtual teams not used to working in this way to get some tips on how to get the best from themselves and their members in the new normal. In today’s blog, I want to give you some tips on how to improve communication in a team, specifically in a virtual context, right now.

My name’s Dr Paul Brewerton, the strengths guy, genetically wired to bring you evidence-based tips on how to get the most from yourself and from your work colleagues; and even from your outside of work life, each week on a Monday morning as you prepare yourself for the week ahead.

  Why is good team communication important?

First, something on the importance of team communication – why is communication important in a team? Good communication underpins so many characteristics of high performing teams according to study after study.

First, effective team communication enables the free flow of ideas and information which allows high quality decision making based on good data.

Second, good communication in terms of listening, questioning and challenging provides a solid basis for team innovation and creativity in terms of problem-solving and solution-finding.

Third, when teams communicate well, there is a greater chance of them developing a climate of trust and a culture of belonging and inclusion, in itself creating a team that feels cohesive and ‘as one’, which drives up team engagement.

Finally, respectful, open collaboration with other team members provides a forum for diverse views to be heard and acted upon and that knocks on to increased innovation and creative problem-solving.

And what about virtual team communication?

Virtual team communication challenges, magnified in the new world of work, are what I want to focus in on now. So here are my 9 top tips on how to improve virtual team communication, harvested just for you from our collective new world of work team experiences at Strengthscope.

I present these in no particular order, they’re all designed to address virtual communication challenges. Please take whatever you wish from the following smorgasbord to consider, and potentially apply, in your own day to day team experience:

1. Create virtual watercooler moments

So these days you, and/or other team members, might be missing the watercooler chats, the few words by the coffee machine, the over the back of the chair quick check-ins. And probably you’ve tried building in small talk to virtual meetings (which I’ll come on to as that in itself is important). But it just doesn’t feel like you’re connecting with your colleagues like you used to. So here’s tip no 1, for maximum connection potential and to improve that understanding between you that good team communication is based on, actually put informal catchups in your diary with your colleagues, just for you to chill and chat and have some time together. It will pay dividends.

2. Pick the right mode of communication

This is an age-old challenge that’s been amplified by virtual teamworking because there are more methods for team communication than ever before. So if you prefer to receive tasks via email (so you can file them and tick them off), instant messaging for quick Q&A, and video for more tricky or emotional conversations, then know your preferences and be honest about them with other team members. Your colleagues won’t necessarily know until you tell them. And if they don’t get it the first time, communicate it again until you’re getting closer to the kind of communication that works for you.

Which communication mode is the most efficient?

Also, there are some modes of communication that are just more efficient than others – firstly, when you can see a text chat turning into something where wires are getting crossed or there’s something that you need to quickly align with a colleague on, make a call and talk it through because, sometimes, a 2 minute call will save a 10 minute text exchange.

Secondly, emotional content is better not on email. Chat is better because you can use emojis. Video or voice are best because that way you have more information from the other person coming from their body language, their face and their tone of voice. If you’re not sure then, try and default to the best likely communication mode depending on what you want to communicate.

3. When in doubt, overcommunicate

I mentioned earlier the need to communicate often more than twice. People miss stuff first, second, third time round. Email it, and put it in the calendar invite, and email again, and remind on chat, and finally, don’t assume people will have read what you want them to have read. Instead, assume they haven’t, and come prepared with a quick summary of the salient points rather than a pointy finger and an eyeroll.

4. Make time for human connection with other team members

As well as building in virtual watercooler moments, I’m talking here about the kind of ‘small talk’ that you have at start of in-person meetings where you’re just finding out what’s happened with a colleague’s house move, or plumbing leak, or kid’s school application, or tray bake, whatever’s important right now.

Make time for checking in and out, either formally (like everyone ‘check in’: ‘how are you feeling right now?’ And at the end ‘check out’: ‘in one word, how are you feeling, leaving the meeting?’). Or you can just do it by asking people their latest news. But all of these micro-behaviours demonstrate thoughtfulness and care. That builds effective team communication through connection, cohesion, and this will get oxytocin involved. Oxytocin is the connection hormone, which evokes a strong sense of belonging, and ultimately well-being.

Bring your strengths to meetings

At Strengthscope, as well as checking in, we also ask at the start of most meetings – ‘what strengths are you bringing to this meeting and why?’ And at the end, we check on whether each person has brought their intended strength and how it helped. Last thing is in meetings, make it ok to check-in on people in the moment. If anyone’s looking disconnected or perhaps upset or you sense a change in tone in a discussion, honestly checking in on the person or people involved is a powerful thing to do to build a climate of trust, support and belonging. And that promotes good communication, particularly in the context of virtual teams .

5. Be kind to yourself with your diary management

Give yourself 10-15 minute breaks between meetings whenever you can. The reason is for you to be able to decompress between meetings, including getting a cuppa or taking a toilet break. Also, during your day, do put full breaks in – for a walk, for lunch, for relaxation time. Same reason: state change – when you decompress, reset and feel more in control, when you feel that you’ve got a better chance of capturing your essential actions (maybe even doing a couple) before running headlong into the next meeting, you’re going to be better able to communicate because you’ll have less running around your head.

6. WFH doesn’t mean AWA

Acronym jargonbuster here = Working from home doesn’t mean Always available. Make sure you are respectful of people’s time and how they have organised their day. Don’t assume they’ll always be able to give you a ‘quick 5 minutes’, just because they’re WFH. They’re still working, and you don’t know what they’re actually doing, but best to assume it’s important and that if they can spare a couple of minutes, maybe see that as a bonus, not an expectation.

Also, be realistic about how much time you need from them and about how important your ‘really important thing’ actually is. That way, you give other virtual team members the best chance of prioritising effectively. That respect for each other is a fundamental building block of effective communication.

7. Be respectful of meetings, inside and out

So inside the virtual meeting – be present, show your hands, raise a hand, listen well, be conscious of where you’re looking. This has become much harder on virtual meetings than in real life. I personally also find it harder in a group meetings than in 121s (where I seem to automatically stay present) but it’s equally important to stay engaged. So, know when you’re going to get distracted and call it out or squash it.

Outside of meetings, don’t be texting people in the meetings and expecting an immediate response, because the tech is telling you that they’re in a meeting! You wouldn’t be running up to the meeting room door in person and demanding an immediate response unless there was a genuine emergency like there was a fire in the building. Don’t be the distraction for your work colleagues – let them stay focused, engaged and attentive.

8. Reduce distractions but be okay with being human

This is another two-parter and it relates to you being present so that you can communicate well and show that you’re communicating well in a team environment. First off, I mean clear around your working space so that you’re not too distracted by mess and things to do and various eye-catching materials. Desk clear downs I find to be a useful periodic activity coz it seems no matter how well I clear my desk (like into the bin in one sweep, or more likely into a cupboard), the stuff has a habit of spreading again when I don’t deal with it immediately. The being human part is that when you’re working from home, or in a shared space of any kind, stuff will happen. Other people you live with, and also the not people you live with – cats, dogs, other pet life – will happen into video shot and that’s ok. This may be distracting for other people on a call but if you see it as a moment to chill and change state, it can be a useful distraction. Plus it’s just gonna happen anyway so be kind to yourself and step into being more of you when working in the new normal. It’s all part of building those genuine human connections and a climate of trust on which to base better, more open and honest team communication.

9. If you’re a manager, role model it

All the things I’ve said so far are super-amplified in importance when you’re a manager. If you want to see your team being present in meetings, listening respectfully, raising hands, not expecting immediate responses from people on chat, then you need to set the bar through your own behaviour. If you’re not communicating well in your team environment and you know where you need to get better, take those tips of mine and put them into action so that you can be a better role model for the behaviour you’re looking for.

And that is it, you have been listening to nine top tips for working well as a virtual team, focusing in on the importance of team communication. As I say, take your pick, perhaps just pick one or two, no more, to do really well in your team. This new working norm is here to stay, I would say, so give your virtual team communication a chance and give it a go.

Till next time, stay strong. And for more, have a listen to my back catalogue for more on team communication and virtual team working.

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Related posts:

4 Key tips for engaging employees

How to set expectations at work (and everywhere)

Getting the best from virtual teamworking

Via https://www.strengthscope.com/9-ways-to-improve-virtual-team-communication/

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