#unfortunately it is not as simple as that and if we stopped being mentally ill we would likely be a very different person

[mantisgodsdomain]

Now that we're not too thick into things to lose sight of our own... self, things are both more manageable and a bit more embarrassing. It's been a while since we've fully broken down like this, and doing it again is a mixture of Not Fun and Something We Sort Of Feel We Should Have Grown Beyond. Something between the normal breakdown emotions and the awareness that we have the tools to handle this, we should be able to handle this - and yet, here we are again, not handling it. We are aware, in theory, that there's no accounting for irrational thinking, but in practice, we cannot help feeling a bit... something, with ourself. Keeping our own brain stable remains, as always, a full-time job. Awful work, as always. But it has to be done. When it comes down to it, there is no one who can help us navigate our own head but ourself, and it is our responsibility to ourself to make sure that we do not end up making things worse than where we started.

[lexyychinchillaa]

so i havent really be keeping up with the TOTA Takeover (i was watching doctor who all day everyday) BUT i will do this last one.

i think the show is wonderful. it discusses mental illnesses without making it the entire plot or entire personality of characters. it displays it realistically and doesnt romanticise (by this i mean they didnt just show positive things or ignore it completely) or... obsess over it, i suppose. it wasnt completely focused on the characters "flaws" or illness. while they were mentioned, they actually still made the characters relatable and realistic, as opposed to (imo) Heartstopper, which felt to me like it fetished queer people, but thats a discussion for another day.

it was nice for a change in media, because its not often that you get media from the perspective of someone outside of the mental hospital willingly going inside because they genuinely enjoy being there and the people there. thats one of the reasons i love Eddie, he isnt afraid of what people will say about his new job, or if he is, its not stopping him even though (im pretty sure?) he doesnt get paid for it. hes a kind and lovable protagonist and it was interesting to have his side and opinions on things.

the side characters (i suppose thats what they are) are easy to fall in love with because they have so much depth and are genuinely interesting as a whole. it had, i think, important representation of Rosalie's OCD. it was important representation because it doesnt seem like we get a lot of OCD in media anymore (not that we ever really did, at least not in the things ive watched). i personally dont know much about the disorder but the representation still felt... correct, i suppose, to someone who has little to no knowledge, which is still a good sign because it means it was easy to understand and, yes, still seemed realistic. it was easy to feel bad for Rosalie because of her story and because she was treated and written as a real person.

have you ever watched something and thought, "this character is a bit cardboard-esque"? doesnt it make it tricky to actually feel bad for the character in question? its difficult to sympathise or empathise with someone who is uninteresting or unrealistically written. like in the Twilight movies, for an example. its difficult to feel bad for Bella because shes a kind of basic protagonist. she has simple wants and has simple struggles. whereas in TOTA, the characters have different wants than is usually displayed. like Campbell for example. he wants to be a radio show host and whats stopping him? his struggle to find a place that wants to take him and, i would say, his fathers disapproval. while Campbell isnt openly warm with his father, its still difficult for Campbell to ignore him because its his dad, the man who was there, but not necessarily there for him, all his life. its still difficult to get over someone whos supposed to love and support you telling you that you wont be able to do something.

Campbell is another example of a well written character. it was easy for me to love him, and not just because he was played by DT. he was a funny character without just being comedic relief. his bipolar disorder was displayed well according to me, someone with again, little to no knowledge in the subject. it was nice to have a character who has specific wants that are different from other characters in other medias. he was interesting because he was, say it with me, written as a real person. Campbell was easy to love because he was written and played like someone i would personally want to be friends with. hes funny, caring, friendly, unique, and protective. he sort of immediately likes Eddie and is friendly and talkative with the older man. he doesnt hold back and doesnt bite his tongue when he wants to say something.

TOTA was silly and light hearted while still bringing up important subjects that i dont think a lot of media is willing to bring up. i think, unfortunately, it might have been before its time. i think if it was made recently or in recent years, a lot more people would watch it and talk about it. i think its a beautiful show that, while not laying too heavily on it, discusses mental illness in a positive way. it doesnt act like the characters disorders are flaws, it treats it as something the characters have that might make them unsatisfactory to other people but not like it is unsatisfactory and i think it was lovely.

overall, i thoroughly enjoyed watching TOTA. it was different from most things i watch but not in a way where i was reluctant to watch more and only liked it at the end. i thought the ending was brilliant, even if it wasnt a massive everyone-got-their-way sort of ending. it was honestly nice to have media that had only two characters that i can think of getting what they want. TOTA had some sad parts that were so well written i cried. and if something bad happened to a character (haha... ha... hm), i cared about the character and was upset because they were well written and i loved them.

i know i used the words "well written" and "realistic" so many times, but the main things that struck me about TOTA were those two things. while i love sci fi and fantasy, its nice to have a show that felt real, like it actually happened. i loved the characters and the plot. the writing was superb. its an amazing show that more people should watch.

(hi. sorry if this is terribly written, im not great at these sorts of things. i tried keep it focused but if i ever strayed away from the main point, i apologise)

[minervadashwood]

Scars and Stitches, Chapter 18: Trespassers Daryl X PlusSize!Reader (she/her)

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Series Masterlist | Daryl x Reader Masterlist

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Chapter Summary: You go on a walk with Dale. A threat encroaches on the farm. Word Count: 2,300 Warnings: Shane Walsh being awful, language, violence, mentions of past abuse, and mentions of drug use/addiction.

This chapter also mentions suicide.

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“You know that you’ve found something amazing, and you want to hold on to it forever; and every second after…you fear the moment you might lose it.” ― Kiera Cass, The Elite

It only took three days until Daryl refused to stay in bed and recover. Your only victory was convincing him to wait a few days more before hunting again. However, he still volunteered for more than his share of watch shifts and even took to patrolling the interior fences of the farm. As much as you tried to make him take it easy, he was incorrigible.

In addition to all your chores, you'd started learning what you could from Hershel and Patricia. The depth of Hershel’s knowledge was astounding. You pestered him with questions, often describing the kind of injuries that could happen on the road or on runs. He answered them in his stern, matter-of-fact way.  In doing so, you were not only learning how to treat said injuries, but also making it clear to Hershel how important his farm and his doctoring was to helping your group survive.

However, your growing unease regarding Shane intensified with each day.  So, you went to seek counsel with the only one in camp who’d read more philosophy than you: Dale.

The two of you were walking along the fence line, careful to not stray too far from where Daryl, the lookout, could see you. You’d taken to always having your knife with you, and today you’d also brought your crossbow, just in case. Its strap and weight—albeit not significant—made you feel slightly braver than you used to be.

After you and Dale chatted a bit over inconsequential things, you asked, "How are things with you and Andrea?"

"We've reached a stalemate, but at least she's speaking to me again."  Despite the pain in his voice, Dale kept smiling; you admired that in him.

"You saved her life. I would've done the same thing for someone I cared about."

Dale sighed, looking off into the distance. "That's a simple way of looking at the situation. What Andrea had was a choice, and I took that away from her. I had no right to do it."

"Surely someday, she'll thank you," you insisted.

Dale sighed and took a moment before speaking again. "When it comes to death, we tend to reduce it to the simplest of terms. But death—and the knowledge of it—is part of what makes us human. Most of us don't get a chance to choose when we die, but some do."

"But Dale, most suicides are caused by mental illness, which can be treated. Even though we don't have medication for it like we used to, we can't just...let it happen!"

"Why not?"

His question was absurd. "Don't we have a duty to each other? Stopping someone from killing themselves is a good thing. It's the right thing."

Dale stopped and leaned on a fence post. He looked at you with sad eyes, but you sensed resignation.

"Have you ever watched someone waste away in front of you? Ever seen them suffer more than any human ever should? Heard them beg you to end things, just to get away from the pain?”

He was talking about his wife. Unfortunately, you could relate. A little.

You said, "I've seen someone I love try to kill themselves slowly for years, with heroin and later fentanyl.”

He raised his brow. "You try to help them?"

You nodded, fists at your sides. "I did everything I could."

"What happened?"

You had to take a moment. You hadn't purposefully thought of your little brother since leaving Atlanta.  God you missed him. Your heart ached. Was the loss of him your fault? If he weren't dead, he may as well be, to you, at least. You'd never see him again.

You looked at Dale, tears in your eyes. "I gave up on him."

"Or did you just realize it wasn't in your power to fix him?"

You couldn't speak. Was that true? You'd worked all this out in therapy, but that was when you could always find him, always call him, track him down if you needed to. None of that was possible anymore.

Dale said, "Maybe what we owe to each other is love and respect. And the courage to accept that some decisions aren't ours to make."

"You really think so?"

"I'm not claiming to have the right answer, or even a right answer, but I think you have to ask yourself what right you have to decide how others live. Or don't."

“My therapist kept reminding me I couldn’t fix my brother. For a long time I refused to accept that. Eventually, I did, at least I stopped trying. I still don’t know if that was the right choice.”

“’Make the most of your regrets. Never smother your sorrow but tend and cherish it ’till it comes to have a separate and integral interest. To regret deeply is to live afresh.’”

“Thoreau.”

“He was right. About a few things. Once in a while.”

“He wouldn’t have lasted long in this world, though,” you chuckled. Thoreau preached in his book about living off the land and savoring nature, but he rarely practiced what he preached. Daryl was more like Thoreau than the Henry David ever was.

Dale laughed. “You’re probably right about that.”

As your laughter died down, you at last remembered why you had brought Dale all the way out here.

“What if, hypothetically,” you began, “someone committed murder to save someone else?  In this world, in this time, is that the right thing to do? Or is it just as reprehensible as before?”

Dale didn’t miss a beat. "Are you talking about Shane?"

"Y-y-you knew?" The realization floored you. You were both disappointed in yourself for not seeing what Dale and Daryl did, but also frustrated that neither of them had done anything about it.

"I put the pieces together,” Dale was saying. “He all but confirmed it the other day."

You rubbed the back of your neck, doing your best to keep your temper in check. "Daryl knew right away. He doesn't think anyone would believe him."

"He's observant for someone who keeps himself so apart from us."

You nodded. "He's had his eyes on Shane ever since..." Oh, right that was a secret.

"Ever since?"

You took a deep breath, intuitively sensing you could trust Dale. "He tried to assault Lori. I walked in on it and stopped him. He put me in a wristlock for my trouble."

"So that's how it started,” Dale nodded, as if solving some mystery. “Anytime Shane went near you, Daryl’s eyes were on him.”

“I was worried he might retaliate, so was Daryl. We wanted Lori to tell Rick, but she refused to.”

Those few days had been nerve-wracking, but you’d never felt alone through the ordeal. Daryl would always check in with you, would find ways to be with you if Shane got too close or tried to separate you from the group.

Dale watched you for a moment, as if thinking something over. Eventually he said, “You changed something in Daryl.”

"Me?"

"The day Merle walked out of camp, and you walked in, Daryl became a new man."

You shook your head. " It has nothing to do with me. This is the person Daryl has always been. But Merle tried to bully it out of him. Maybe I saw it before anyone else, but this is who Daryl has always been."

“Well, we’re lucky to have him, that’s for sure.”

God, you knew that was true. “Sure are,” you murmured.

"So what does he think we should do about Shane?"

You weren’t sure that Daryl had any plans or hopes about the situation; you just knew that he was worried and felt something needed to be done. “Honestly, I think what Daryl wants is simply for the group to be safe. I know it may seem like he only looks out for me, Carol, and Sophia, but he cares about everyone."

Daryl never said as much to you, but you knew it to be true from the way he threw himself into all of his different jobs, as if he let up for a second things would fall apart. He continuously sacrificed his well-being to make sure everyone in the group was protected and fed.

Dale said, "I think this is going to be Rick's call, but maybe the best thing would be if Shane left. He was planning to before Carl was shot."

You peered up at Dale. "Does that mean Andrea would go, too?"

"More than likely." He smiled sadly at you, corners of his eyes watery. 

"Oh, Dale." You threw your arms around him, giving him a strong hug. "You know you'll always have the rest of us.  Whatever the world has in store for the future, we'll all face it together."

Dale patted your back and broke the hug. "Stop all this concern over me. Don't want Daryl watching us through the binoculars and getting the wrong idea."  Dale chuckled and started walking back to camp.

He was clearly cutting your conversation short, and as badly as you wanted to press him for more guidance, you would feel guilty for taking up more of his time.

You were about to follow him back to camp when, behind you and off to the side, you heard a rustling in the trees. You spun on your heels and had your crossbow out in one smooth motion. Your evenings of practice were paying off.

You crept along the fence, crossbow pressed against your shoulder and eyes scanning the woods beyond the boundary of the farm.

You heard Dale call your name, but you motioned for him to be quiet. He didn’t say anything, but he noisily walked toward you. You heard him take out his knife. Compared to Daryl, the man was as loud as a bulldozer

Dale put his hand on your shoulder, trying to pull you away, but you shrugged him off.

“I got this,” you whispered.

“I don’t think you need to—"

Dale stopped short when two walkers emerged from the forest, growling and staggering right in your direction. You tiptoed away from Dale and farther away from the fence, putting distance between you and the boundary. You knew the fence would protect you.

When the first walker slammed into the fence and struggled stupidly against it, you pressed your chin to the chin rest and looked down the sight of your crossbow.

Deep breath, exhale, shoot.

The bolt sprang free and lodged itself in the walker’s skull.

You did it. You weren’t useless; you weren’t a damsel in distress. You were a fighter. You were strong.

You forced yourself to calm down again, quickly cocked your bow, and loaded another bolt.

You’d just settled the bow against your shoulder, when heavy footsteps pounded in your direction, drawing your focus away from the second walker.

Daryl was running with his crossbow out. He didn’t even bother coming to a stop before he pulled the trigger and killed the remaining walker.

You lowered your crossbow and turned to face him, annoyed, then annoyed that you were annoyed. He was only doing what he’d always done: protecting you.

Suddenly, Daryl’s hands were cupping your cheeks, and his eyes were frantically looking you over. Sweat poured off him, and he was coiled like a spring. 

His hands moved to your shoulders, smoothing down the length of your arms.  Daryl took the crossbow from you and put it back around your shoulders. Then he held your hands tightly, and gazed at you for a long moment, breathing heavily and vibrating with so much tension that you almost trembled right along with him.

“You alright?” he demanded, his voice sharp and breathless.

“I’m fine,” you said, befuddled. “They never got near me. I did just what you taught me to do.”

Daryl nodded, and then he pressed a quick kiss to your forehead and let you go, turning away just as Shane, Andrea, and Rick—all of them armed—jogged up to the scene.

Daryl glanced back at them, but in the next second he was gone.  You watched him hop over the fence, yank the crossbow bolts from the walkers’ skulls, and stalk into the woods.

You stared at the trees through which Daryl had vanished for half a second before giving in to your urge to follow him.

Rick shouted after you.

You turned and quickly explained yourself. “He shouldn’t be alone out there. He’s still hurt.”

That was enough to convince Rick, and he hurriedly ran up to you.  With Rick’s help, you made it over the fence, and the both of you entered the tree line.

“Daryl?” you whispered loudly.

No response.

Rick sighed. “He teach you any tracking skills?”

You shook your head.

Rick took a deep breath and let out an ear-piercing whistle.

It wasn’t two seconds later before Daryl appeared right in front of you.

He squinted at Rick. “You tryin’ to bring them all down on us?”

“You find more of them?” Rick asked.

Daryl shook his head. “Best keep quiet in case we do.”

Rick nodded, not at all ruffled by Daryl’s gruff tone.

Daryl took you by the elbow, pulling you to him and stared down at you. “You stay right behind me. We get in trouble, you run. I’ll find ya.”

You nodded.

Daryl held you there a moment longer, and eventually slid his hand from your arm.  He looked over your head at Rick.

“Somethin’ ain’t right about them walkers. You make sure nothin’ sneaks up on us.”

You knew Daryl well enough to see a hint of unease behind his stern glare.  Not much rattled Daryl Dixon, and if he was slightly worried, then it must be really bad.

You took a moment to cock your bow, and Daryl handed you back your bolt.  Then, in single file, you and Rick followed Daryl through the woods.

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Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a reply/comment and letting me know what you think. Reblogs are great, too!

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Taglist: @green-eyedladywrites @haleypearce @takeabreathdeath @phoenixblack89

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[paraphernaliawagon]

Do you ever browse your local library, not looking for anything in particular (well, beyond checking to see if they have any new comics), and stumble across something incredible that you just needed to see at that particular moment? That's how I found Where Black Stars Rise by Nadia Shammas (writer) and Marie Enger (artist). It's a short but powerful graphic novel about two young women: Yasmin Mofid, a schizophrenic theatre student who becomes involved with a group performing The King in Yellow, and Amal Robardin, her new therapist who's struggling to do right by her (and by her mother back home in Lebanon). The title, of course, is from "Cassilda's Song. The deceptively simple, ultra-stylized look of the book is not to my personal taste, but the faces are astoundingly expressive and the visual storytelling is masterful. Legit one of the best recent Mythos-related works I've come across in a while. It plays with the idea of The King in Yellow as a play that "drives people insane" by having a protagonist who is already mentally ill in a grounded and realistic way, for whom that's just part of ordinary life.

At one point in the story we see a blog post by Yasmin that seems to be a sort of thesis statement direct from the author. (Very fourth-wall-breaking, because she's talking about the short story collection The King in Yellow, not the play.) So I will end this by quoting it:

"I've always loved horror, particularly eldritch horror. Despite the deeply racist and misogynistic roots of these works, primarily the violent xenophobia of its creators, there's an existential understanding as to what it feels like to be powerless. While these men grappled with the horror of an uncaring universe, marginalized individuals grapple with the horror of a system specifically designed not to care about us. We are born into something larger, something malevolent, something we have no power to stop. Similarly, in The King in Yellow itself, there is no reason why are unfortunate narrators are chosen. Yes, some of them seek power, and some of them wander into the wrong place at the wrong time, but both tend to meet the same ends. You walk into a situation, your bad luck and your life is changed forever. Isn't that how it is in the real world? There's no reason or logic. Often, the evil was inside of you before you even knew it. There's no fighting it. You can't fight forces bigger than yourself. Most of all? I love that in horror, our storytellers are always right. They're never believed. They're cast aside and undermined and left to face the cosmic cruelty alone. But they weren't wrong. And the readers, the audience? We bear witness to them. We listen, and by merit of their narrative or performance, we believe them in that short burst of time. I want to write that feeling into being. I want to be believed."

(a lot of different people have set "Cassilda's Song" to music, and this one's the best version, trust me)

[witchy-giggles]

Laughter is the Best Medicine, Afterall. (Squealing Santa 2k22)

A/N: Hello hello @eclipsetickles tis I, you’re no-longer-a-secret squealing santa! I wanted to get this to you towards the end of Christmas day, as a last present for you. I hope you had a festive holiday, and I hope you enjoy your gift. When I saw your prompts and fandoms, I knew what I had to do and I had so much fun writing this.

Special thanks to @hypahticklish again for hosting this year, it was so much fun!!

Fandom: Fruits Basket 

Pairing: Lee!Shigure, Ler!Hatori (platonic)

Prompt(s): "Accidental Tickles"  " 'Why do I never hear you laugh?' "  "Person 1 pesters person 2 until they've had it"

Summary: Shigure avoids his checkups and Hatori has had it. So he decides to show up unannounced before Shigure has a chance to run away this time. But Shigure isn’t going to make Hatori’s job easy for him, and Hatori says that just won’t do.

Word Count: 1,509

Warnings: This is a tickle fic, if you don’t like then don’t read. Also mild warning for mild swearing.

Also found on Ao3 ( https://archiveofourown.org/works/43722927 )

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Having your family doctor be someone who was, in fact, a part of your family came with a lot of perks in Shigure’s eyes. Being seen for any illness or injury at any time, getting expert medical advise with nothing more than a simple phone call, and of course never having to pay for anything. But unfortunately for the writer, having your cousin and one of your best friends as your personal doctor also came with some drawbacks. Such as now, when he was trying to relax but Hatori had shown up unannounced, claiming that Shigure was overdue for a checkup so the doctor had shown up now so Shigure couldn’t run away and avoid it. Shigure had pointed out it was quite rude of Hatori to just assume the grey-haired male was purposefully avoiding the blackette… it was true, but still quite rude.

So that’s how they got here, Hatori having to resort to sit on Shigure’s lap so that the novelist couldn’t run away while the doctor checked his vitals, mentally preparing for what was yet to come. “Oh Haa-san, no! We mustn't, my heart belongs to another!” Shigure said with his normal over-dramatic flair, back of his hand pressed to his forehead while Hatori took his blood pressure, causing the doctor to sigh deeply. Sometimes, he wondered why he put up with his cousin…

“Shut up, and stop moving. You’re making this difficult.” Hatori chastised, not in the mood to play Shigure’s silly games. The doctor reached for the blood pressure cuff, not able to get a proper reading with his cousin moving around like he was and needing to readjust. He didn’t trust Shigure to not make things even more difficult, and grabbed the other male’s upper arm rather suddenly. Shigure jumped with a soft yelp and the two sat in silence for a few moments before Hatori finally spoke up. “What was that?”

“N-Nothing! You just surprised me is all, Haa-san.” Shigure stuttered out with a small chuckle. Hatori didn’t quite believe it, mostly due to the slight blush he swore he could see creeping on the novelist’s face. But, he didn’t comment on his suspicions, just readjusting the blood pressure cuff so he could get a proper reading.

“Stop moving around and I won’t have to startle you again.” Shigure stayed still for a while this time, letting Hatori jot down the proper information he needed for his records. Afterwards, the equipment was put away and a stethoscope was pulled out instead. Not believing his cousin would behave, Hatori moved Shigure’s dark green kimono out of the way to expose his chest, so that Hatori could more easily listen to his heart. Shigure couldn’t help but react now, raising his sleeve to his his face and looking off to the side to feign embarrassment. 

“So forceful, Haa-san..” Hatori narrowed his eyes and took a deep breath. He didn’t bother dignifying that with a response, simply pressing the cold metal to Shigure’s chest. The younger Sohma stiffened and yelped softly, and now Hatori was certain of the color spreading over his cheeks. 

“You can deal with the cold, since you want to keep bratting off.”

“But Hatori-” 

“I don’t want to hear your excuses.” Hatori cut off his younger, listening intently to his heartbeat instead. Once he had what he needed, he moved the stethoscope to Shigure’s back, catching him by surprise. A small snicker left Shigure this time, but he covered up by coughing immediately after, and then tried to push Hatori away. What in the world was going through Shigure’s.. Oh. Oh. 

A smirk spread over Hatori’s lips as he held Shigure firm. “Come now, I’m just trying to listen to your lungs.” He claimed, wrapping his free arm around Shigure’s back to hold him closer, resting his fingers on the other’s waist. This caused Shigure’s breath to hitch, but whatever protest he had quickly died in his lips as Hatori started to wiggle his fingers a little. The cursed Sohma audibly held back laughter as he wiggled in his older cousin’s grip, causing Hatori to click his tongue. “Still won’t stay still? I suppose it can’t be helped.”

Hatori pulled the medical device away from Shigure, giving him a brief reprieve before Shigure was suddenly pushed onto his back. Hatori was hovering above him now, no longer hiding his smirk from earlier. “If you can’t stay still, I suppose we’ll just have to wait until you can.” He rolled up his sleeves, before  starting to lazily trail his fingers over Shigure’s exposed flesh, causing the younger to squirm and snicker. 

“Hat-tori, don’t.” He whined, trying to push his elder off of him. 

“Don’t? I’m just giving my cousin a check-up.” Hatori never stopped moving his fingers, focusing on what spots got Shigure to squirm the most, and what spots seemed to have very little reaction. Once satisfied with his “examination”, he spoke again. “Shigure, why do I never hear you laugh?”

“I lahaugh all the t-time.” Shigure protested, still vigilantly trying to hold back his laughter for the sake of his pride at this point.

“Not genuinely. Not since we were kids.” Hatori disagreed. “I think I know just how to fix that.” That was all the warning Shigure received before ten fingers were scribbling along his sides, causing the dog of the zodiac to throw his head back and howl with laughter. 

“Hatohohori stohop!” He pleaded, but the dragon held firm.

“If you aren’t staying still for your checkup, then it must be because you have too much energy pent up inside you. This seems to be the best way to tire you out.” 

“I wohon’t move anymohohore I’m sohorry!”

“Awe, you’re sorry now? Is that so? You weren’t all the times I asked you to stay still.” Hatori stopped tickling with one hand and instead grabbed Shigure’s wrist, forcing it above his head so the older could have easier access. He walked his fingers slowly up Shigure’s side before attacking his unprotected armpit, much to the novelist’s dismay as he laughter shot up a few octaves.

“HatoHORIHI NOHOT THERE!”

“Where? Here? Does it tickle too much? Poor thing.” He cooed, mock sympathy dripping from his voice.

Shigure’s free hand tried to cover up his vulnerable side, but any time he started doing so too well, Hatori would simply switch which side he was assaulting to make him lower his guard. He tried to buck the family doctor off, or tried to roll out of his grip, but he was just too weak while he was thrashing around like this, and Hatori held firm. “FUHUHUCK YOU!” 

Hatori paused, looking at Shigure with a raised eyebrow. “What did you just say to me?” Shigure didn’t respond right away, too busy catching his breath. Hatori let this go on for a bit longer, not wanting to accidentally kill his cousin, and when it seemed Shigure was breathing better, he repeated the question with a tone that demanded Shigure respond.

“I… didn’t say anything. You’re mind must just be going with your old age.”

“Say that again.” Hatori demanded once more, speaking slow with a dangerous tone.

“I said you’re an old ma-AHAN! Gah, HatoHOHORI NOHO! PLEHEHEHEASE!” Shigure begged. Hatori had let go of the captive arm, only to drill both thumbs into Shigure’s hip bones. Always a weak spot, one that left the grey-haired male unable to do much more than laugh and squirm.

“Apologize for for interfering with my work.”

“I’M SOHOHORRY!”

“Say you won’t do it again.”

“I-I WOHON’T I SWEHEHEAR!”

“And agree that I won’t have to hunt you down next time you need a checkup.”

“OKAY OKAHAHAY! HATOHORIHIHI PLEHEASE!”

“Good.” The doctor praised, releasing his grip on Shigure’s hips. “Just one last thing to solidify this in your mind.” Shigure’s kimono had come undone slightly in his squirming, and Hatori was still feeling uncharacteristically playful. So, while Shigure laid on the ground catching his breath, the blackette leaned down. Shigure only had enough time to comprehend hearing Hatori take a deep breath, before he felt lips pressed against his flesh, and then he was laughing again as Hatori blew a raspberry on his stomach.

Hatori got off of Shigure after that, leaving him panting on the ground for a few minutes before coming back with a glass of water that was sat next to the still panting male. “Drink that when you’re able, and then gather yourself so I can finish conducting your checkup. I trust you to know what will happen if you try to impede this any further.” Shigure nodded his understanding quickly, not wanting to risk a repeat. “And on that note, since you seemed to have in fact grown more ticklish than since we were kids, I promise you that will be my go to reprimand from now on for any missed treatment, and any annoyances during them.” 

Shigure groaned with a pout, but nodded. “You’re such a bully, Haa-san.”

“Yes, yes.” Hatori said dismissively, putting his stethoscope back on. “Now, let’s continue, shall we?”

[dunkalfredo]

saw a post about "not destigmatizing mental health disorders so much that we stop taking them seriously" and i agree with what i think the op actually meant but i don't think the issue is destigmatization sooooo I'm making my own post. the original post isn't wrong--i just disagree on the semantics of the language being used here, and i do think that word choice matters in this case.

anyway. it's true that we need to remember that a lot of mental health and neurodivergent conditions affect people in tangible and sometimes dangerous ways. adhd and autism can be incredibly disabling and depression has caused many, many deaths. those are just some examples that were used in the original post. and it's true! it's very true. these aren't just "fun and quirky" character traits. without the right accommodations/treatment/education/whatever is appropriate for the condition being discussed, they can wreak a lot of havoc in a person's life.

the thing is it's VITAL that we create spaces where it's safe to discuss our experiences honestly without stigma. and what i mean by stigma is judgement and ignorance. mental illness and neurodivergency aren't failings of character and don't make you a bad person, which are unfortunately things that many people believe, sometimes because they don't know better. and there are an endless number of misconceptions about [insert diagnosis here] that create barriers to understanding and accommodation. even something as simple as not knowing what a condition/illness entails exactly can create stigma in the wrong circumstances. and ultimately that stigma can trivialize the experiences of these people and make it harder to get the right support.

stigma NEEDS to be decreased so that these conditions/illnesses/disorders/etc are taken more seriously. hope that makes sense

[ventbloglite]

There's so many reasons why people who say something along the lines of "Trans is a lie, you can't actually change sex and your chromosomes will always be the same, you are being tricked by surgeons, don't fall for the gender lie." amuses me in a kind of sad way.

Let's say I believe that people who say this actually believe what they're saying. They actually believe that surgeons made up trans identities in order to make money off of surgeries. Let's push aside that convincing people to get cosmetic surgeries to confirm to current beauty standards is far easier including doing said sugeries and just continue on with this line of thinking.

So, they actually believe that people are being tricked into believing their bodies/sex can be 'fully changed' but it ''''can't'''' be because of chromosomes or current surgey limitations or whatever. They actually believe all trans people are actually cis people being manipulated.

First, thanks for your concern but you're barking up the wrong tree here and really ignoring a lot of things. Namely, how happy most trans people are when allowed to live as their true selves and after good quality surgery. That happiness is real, whether you understand it or not, and if these people are happy and thriving it really doesn't matter if their bits and pieces don't work in exactly the same way as ones made in utero and it doesn't matter what the chromosomes say because human beings do not interact with others based on their chromosomes or DNA sequences or anything we can't goddamn see which make up a persons physical meat suit.

There wasn't a single person I knew that cared about somebodies chromosomes in relation to their gender until this modern 'trans panic' stuff. There's not a single trans person I know who thinks that part of them changes, or cares. It's really unimportant, actually. You're fooling yourself into thinking it is, because I assure you that you never ever thought about it before you learnt about trans people, for a reason. Also intersex people exist. Chromosomes and genetic makeup aren't as simple as you think so why should the end result be forced to stay a certain way just because.

Second, not all trans people get surgery. We don't. Not a single one. And we're still trans! And still happy! And still socially transitioning where it's safe and happier for it! Third, there's been evidence of trans existence (though ofc not using modern language) before the existence of gender affirming surgery. And before you say 'well then, maybe trans is real but the surgeries were invented to take advantage of mentally ill people' first, stop being ableist and transphobic. Not every thing you don't understand which goes against what you were told is the 'norm' is a mental illness. Grow up. Second, these are surgeries fought for by trans people. We wanted them to exist. Nobody but us wanted them to exist. Nobody but us and our allies want them to exist now.

Fourth, there's a reason it's referred to as gender affirmation surgery and not a 'sex change' any more. So if you're really stuck on the 'it doesn't technically change your sex, just certain body parts' bit uh yeah, we know. We're still happy with it though. If anything we want more advanced surgeries in the future for those who choose them.

Fifth, there are countries where gender affirmation surgery is free. So, there would be absolutely no reason for surgeons to want to do such tricky surgeries (especially ftm lower surgery, which has very few surgeons in my country capable of doing it) because they're not being paid an arm and a leg to do it. Therefore, they must exist because they've providing a valuable service to those who get them (they are).

Sixth, the idea that everything every trans person feels internally is placed there by surgeons or some other external source even if they started to feel them as children, before even hearing the word trans or the very idea of gender affirmation surgery, is logically absurd. Now, I unfortunately do not believe there is genuine concern behind people who say the mentioned words or some variation of. I think it's just a ploy to try and make some trans people paranoid enough to not medically transition. But guess what, even if you stopped some trans people going after surgery, they'd still be socially trans.

That argument boils down to - "Since surgeries aren't advanced enough to change every single aspect of you into that of another sex, and in some countries you have to pay to get these surgeries, the entire concept of social gender, hundreds of existing trans people and their testimonies and life stories, and historical evidence of trans existence before surgery must in fact be false." which is frankly, laughable. Honestly I wish people would just realise that if other people are doing stuff you wouldn't do, or that you don't understand, but it allows them to be happier and live better then maybe you should just shut up about it and let it be.

You don't have to understand how trans people feel, just shrug and go 'guess that's a thing that exists' and get on with your cisgender life. You cannot force people to stop being trans by getting them to hide it. If you would rather people hide it and be trans in private but don't care if they're still technically trans then, you absolutely are not concerned that people are being fooled into being trans. You just can't handle seeing people doing something you think is strange or wrong despite it causing no harm. And/or you just have a bee in your bonnet about surgery and/or HRT because surgery is still something people find scary/threatening and there's lots of misinfo on HRT which is understandable but you need to educate yourself and stay out of people's business. Not your body, not your business.

[bottoms-movie]

SAMBUCKY FIC RECS

so a lot of people seemed interested this so here it is! if ya’ll like this, i can make more parts! this is split into three categories: based on tfatws, canon divergence, and au. all fics are on ao3. all of the fics are complete. some fics do include smut, but i included the ratings, so make sure to check for that based on preferences!

also, feel free to send me asks on your thoughts on any fics or if you’re interested in another sambucky fic rec post!

BASED ON TFATWS

Fill the Hole in my Heart | Not Rated | 4,848 words

Bucky dives into the world of online dating. The girls are nice, but there seems to be something missing. When he goes to Louisiana to meet Sam and his family, he realizes what that something was.

Skip, Reverse | Explicit | 7,945 words

Sam stood in the middle of their local Target with a throw pillow in each hand. The one in his left hand was butter-soft and matched the drapes in the living room, but Bucky had walked by five seconds ago and declared the one on the right “absolutely fucking hideous,” and so now Sam kind of wanted it more than he had ever wanted anything.

Sometimes romance is just bickering with your superhero partner/roommate at several different Target locations.

just won’t do right | General | 7,524 words

Sam's eyebrows go up, impressed, and he reaches over to squeeze Torres' shoulder, "This is amazing, kid. Thanks, really."

Bucky sits and watches in utter horror as the pink darkens on Torres' cheeks.

Oh, he realizes. Oh. Fuck.

body language will do the trick | Explicit | 12,598 words

“There’s no way you’re going to win this,” Bucky tells Sam. “I am going to love language the shit out of you.”

Sam gives him a considering look. “You do seem like you’d be really good at that.”

Bucky’s cheeks flush with heat. “Thanks, pal, I—”

Sam smirks, and Bucky’s eyes narrow. He shoves his elbow into Sam’s side and stalks off, leaving Sam cackling behind him.

“Your ass looks great today!” Sam yells.

Bucky reaches up to flip Sam the bird, and he definitely does not feel grateful that he wore his good jeans today. Bucky’s ass looks great every day.

checklist | General | 4,716 words

Bucky Barnes keeps a mental checklist of things he knows to be true at any given moment. Sometimes the checklist changes, because he's learned something else about himself. It changes, for example, when he starts realizing that maybe he would like to kiss Sam Wilson. Maybe.

best laid plans | 3 parts | 26,808 words

part 1: baby you’re the wave and I’m ready for the crash | Explicit | 6,616 words

Nah, my plan’s better,” Sam declares, before clapping Bucky on the shoulder.

“I’m sorry, what plan? Was that a plan? It didn’t sound like a plan to me, it sounded like a vague intention,” says Bucky, still scowling, and Sam grins.

“We’re winging it, the plan is a work in progress! Now c’mon, we gotta make some wardrobe adjustments if we’re gonna get into that club.”

Sam and Bucky have some unorthodox methods of going undercover in a club.

He Doesn’t Deserve You! | Teen | 5,154 words

Sam and Bucky have an argument that results in Bucky being left at the bar. A group of drunk strangers assumes Bucky just got dumped and quickly adopt him for the night to make him feel better.

Reconstitution | Not Rated | 10,228 words

“I didn’t back Steve on the Sokovia Accords,” Sam says unprompted one day. They’re so close to apprehending the Flagsmashers and wrapping up this ridiculous saga.

“I don’t follow,” Bucky says.

“I was the one who refused to sign it first. Not Steve.”

Sam says it so softly that Bucky has to strain to hear him. Sam is loud and chatty and half the time he keeps up a constant stream of chatter just to get on Bucky’s nerves, but Bucky’s coming to realize that when he really wants to make himself heard, he’s soft spoken and mild. Bucky doesn’t entirely follow his train of thought, though.

Or: a breaking down, remaking, and coming back stronger than ever before

Stuck On You (You Suez, You Luez) | Explicit | 10,136 words

Sam and Bucky’s mission was simple: stowaway on a ship suspected of weapons-smuggling in the Suez, gather enough intel to report back, and hop off again in Port Said. Something gets in the way, and a day-long recon session turns into a week of chess, bickering, semi-successful movie references, and trying not to go slowly insane.

His Touch | Mature | 1,006 words

When Baron Zemo touched Bucky’s face, Sam Wilson saw red.

Bucky just wants Sam to comfort him.

rusted | Teen | 2,358 words

Bucky doesn’t grace him with a sound of acknowledgement. He’s been quiet, ever since that night with Zemo. Well. Quieter. It’s almost like. Every time he opens his mouth, he’s half-expecting the Winter Soldier to come out.

He hasn’t, yet. Won’t, ever again. Not unbidden. Sam’s sure of that. Bucky, not so much.

‘You busy?’

‘’m scouring the—’

‘Good,’ Sam cuts the idiot off, ‘I need you to help me shave.’

advanced therapy methods for large adult men | 2 parts | 11,717 words

part 1: The Gottman Method for Dealing with Conflict | Mature | 4,187 words

Bucky and Dr. Raynor have a follow-up session and two entirely different conversations about his relationship status.

Or: Let's do more couples therapy, James.

it’s always Bucky’s Fault | 3 parts | 20,089 words

part 1: Did you see it? | Explicit | 3,905 words

In which there's supposedly a viral video of the Winter Soldier on his knees sucking off Captain America.

Everything is, like always, completely Bucky's fault.

CANON DIVERGENCE

Even in the Present (I Am Living in the Past) | Teen | 16,977 words

Sometimes Sam still questions everything about his ability to shoulder the 80-year legacy he now bears. His history, and the history of his loss, sticks with him and even in healing he doubts whether or not he is able to fulfil his purpose, and whether he may find lasting peace and happiness.

Told in fluid-fragments, the story moves between his therapy sessions after his return from active duty and the post-Endgame present.

You never forget your first | Teen | 3,650 words

The story of Bucky and Sam getting together in a series of firsts.

leftovers | Mature | 19,249 words

With the New Avengers up and running, Sam finally has time to start dating again. Unfortunately, it's not going as well as he'd hoped.

Partners | Explicit | 7,235 words

Sam's not sure if he can be Captain America. He's not a supersoldier. He can't throw the shield. He's just a dude.

And Bucky Barnes is just a nuisance, albeit a pretty good-looking one.

I’ll explain everything to the geese | Explicit | 50,949 words

Bucky is so competent that it hurts my feelings is not a rational complaint to have about a person, and yet, after a year of being Captain America and partnering up with Bucky for the new and improved, post-Blip Avengers, that’s kinda how Sam’s feeling.

It’s not great. It maybe leads to Sam making some rash, ill-advised decisions like claiming he has a previously undisclosed superpower, and then getting caught in a web of lies when he ends up actually developing that surprisingly inconvenient superpower. Talking to birds had seemed like a harmless superpower, but it turns out that birds have a lot of opinions, and they don’t hesitate to tell Sam about them, especially when it comes to his supposedly subpar courting skills. Which is ridiculous, because Sam isn’t courting Bucky. Right?

Night Swimming | Teen | 2,056 words

“Come on. The princess has a new arm for you and I gotta see if there’s a barber around here willing to tackle your…” Sam waved a hand at Bucky’s face.

“I don’t want a new arm,” Bucky immediately bit out.

And then -

“I can cut my own damn hair.”

Sam just raised both eyebrows. Crossed his arms over his chest again.

Dared Bucky to prove him wrong.

AU

Cpvert Coffee & Flirtation Specialist | General | 5,542 words

The reporter says "—for Captain America to—"

And Bucky rolls his eyes. "Oh, here we go."

Sam looks at him then tips his head sideways, got a weird grin on his face. "Not a fan?"

"Not that. Just… the guy seems too good to be true, right? Wings and a shield?? Come on."

"Uh, is that why your eyes are like glued to the screen whenever he's on?" Kate says. "Is that why you call him Captain Tight Ass?"

"He's a goddamn show-off, and you know it. Tight ass or not."

Just then Sam snorts, real loud, grabs his coffee and suffers a horribly controlled laugh on his way out the door.

Stolen Moments | Teen | 98,767 words

“No,” Sam said, chuckling. “I don’t cheat,” he swept his gaze up and down James’ body, “even with guys who look like you. But, I’m bored and a little pissed, so if you wanna sit here and shoot the shit ‘til my man shows back up, I’m game.”

Never one to back to back down from a challenge - especially a challenge who looked like Sam Wilson - Bucky took another swig from his bottle and replied, “Sure, doll. I’ve got nothing but time.”

Steve has Sam. Bucky wants Sam. Sam wasn’t expecting any of this.

Such a Whirlwind Since I Saw You | Teen | 10,871 words

The Men of Letters turned Bucky Barnes into a weapon. Hunters Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanov are determined to save him, but they're going to need Sam Wilson's help.

“So you want me to ditch work, drive across America with you until you find your friend, who you thought was dead - all while avoiding some high-tech hunters who are out for blood?” Sam is asking.

Steve shrugs a shoulder, looking a little sheepish. Natasha almost laughs at the dry tone of Sam’s voice, but he's not wrong.

You Got What I Need? | Explicit | 37,588 words

Sam and Bucky are both in a bind, professionally. Nat points out a solution that neither men like. To save their careers they play along or rather, stop playing all together.

[joshscorcher]

Why do so many defend " hazing " when it is really just torture under a new name?

I'm not a fan of hazing in general, but let's not stoop to Reductio Ad Absurdum here. Hazing is more complicated than just "it's torture under a new name."

Hazing, especially in the military, is meant to not only increase comradery, but also to increase stress thresholds. Boot camp especially, is meant to simulate a high stress environment, physical and mental. If you can't handle that, then frankly, you shouldn't be in the military. No shame in that; it's just some people aren't meant for it.

Hazing is a tool, and any tool can be used for good, like above, and for ill. You can use a knife to cut veggies, to perform surgery, and to kill. That said, intent doesn't stop people from exercising it poorly, and we unfortunately do have a lot of people who are just being sadistic twitbaskets. There are people who get cruelly hazed out of groups for petty reasons or have really stupid and dangerous traditions that should be eliminated.

At the same time, there are problems when people overreact and use the scarier word to attract sympathy. Like when people use "gaslighting" to describe simple lying. People can and do cry "hazing" over simple punishment. Something like: "I backtalked my coach, so he hazed me by making me round around the field 3 times, knees to hands!" Hey... he made you run and you'll be sore for a little bit. Maybe next time respect your coach's authority? Or hey, since just talking to you doesn't seem to do jack, maybe this little backpack run around base will remind you to show up on time next muster?

Again, hazing is a complicated issue.

[the-hellsing-organisation]

Ordinarily I do not indulge in callout posts, unless a person's mental health might be in serious danger - and it's not a petty lie somebody made up, providing no screenshots, or simple ones taken out of context.

I have received multiple messages now, proving to me that the Hellsing Discord server 'The Hellsing Fanserver' lead by 'Artillery' is unfortunately a place people need to be warned about.

While everyone could assure me they do offer good scans of the Hellsing manga, the members of the server indulged in:

- Purposefully misgendering people

- Making fun of triggers, trans people and people with severe mental illnesses

- Purposefully using triggers against other server members

- Manipulating other people to use the triggers against the person they concern and shifting the blame on them afterwards

- Bringing explicit sexual themes to a server with minors

Afterwards they would celebrate their 'success', making fun of the people they hurt.

The so called 'trolling' (though I wouldn't dare to call such a hurtful behaviour this) was encouraged on the server, so I would deem it an unsafe environment for everyone whose mental health might be affected by such things.

Please be careful if these things concern you and please do not encourage such behaviour.

It's not only hurtful, it is downright cruel.

The invitations, though the links are expired.

Here you see some of the accounts that were directly involved.

Please be careful.

Tumblr Accounts

Discord Accounts

I can only assume alts mean something like alternative accounts he and his friends created in order to do these things, engaging others on the server to do the same.

He then proceeds to share the success of the hurtful behaviour on before mentioned Discord server, commenting such:

^ The “he” they are referring to is a demi girl. And yes, on the other server the pronouns are clearly stated and everyone is asked to respect them.

He is downright admitting openly to have his friends manipulated other people to use the triggers against another person.

(For context: A server members triggers were ‘Borderlands” and ‘Kingdom Hearts’.

He stated this trigger a few hours before and unfortunately the mod, after a sleepless night, was unable to memorise it during that time so ‘Abd’ took advantage of it.

Another mod quickly drew attention to her mistake and of course she apologised to the person she triggered and was forgiven.)

Unfortunately many screenshots - involving the sexual advances and the 'making fun of transgenders' are missing due to the default ban option of the server, but several eye witnesses were able to confirm them.

There was a person pretending to be a transwoman to make fun of transpeople (The person was introducing themselves like: ‘Hello, I am a man, my pronouns are he/him, but I wish to be a woman’ It didn’t sound very genuine to the trans people on the server), people making up all sorts of triggers to make fun of people who have triggers, a person pretending to be a kin, and people, who were trying to spread paedophilic messages with spreading the news that ‘age is just a number’.

And in case people still believe it was an accident:

They deliberately threaten people and plan to hurt them, while making fun of their triggers.

I’m truly lost for words…

For everyone who didn’t know: It is not your place to judge triggers and for the love of God, please don’t make fun of them.

You don’t know the history behind them. It’s good if you have none yourself, it really is, but it shouldn’t make you blind to another person’s suffering.

And you certainly shouldn’t encourage other people to “hunt” people with triggers “down” and “go to war” against them.

Also the owner of server is openly hostility against lgbtq + people - especially trans people - , PoC and antisemitic jokes are the norm there.

They too use nationalist-socialist symbols as emojis in their servers, so people who are triggered by such symbols should be careful.

“Jew Alert”

Blaming one group for the action of singular people should us remind too much of darker parts in history.

I know people with the same experience, that doesnt mean they should actively seek out ot destroy the mental health of all trans people, because one of them hurt them.

Let the submitted texts speak for themselves.

And just in case if anybody believes those are fake:

As soon as Satan saw them, he pmed another person:

Those screenshots are real. They are not fake, like he claims they are and he admits that making fun of trigger and trans people was part of his “troll introductions”.

And just in case anybody is wondering if there are truly toxic trolls on this server? This is a submission I got:

When the original is:

Im sorry.

What they did should speak for itself, but don't try to add lies here. Lies that are obviously having their origin in the server itself.

If you still believe the attacks on this blog didn't come from the server:

This is what Artillery posted as soon as he found this post.

After this the attacks started [as you can see here], so don't tell me your server is not responsible and keep your NSFW implications out of a server with minors and away from this blog!

Also you being an immigrant has nothing to do with the fact, that your server is not safe for minors, lgtbq+ people - especially transpeople - people with trauma and poc.

Even if you claims are real - your and your friends prejudices against the other groups remain.

Satan apologised openly and promised to take better care of people mental health.

The emojis however will remain, though we have been told they have specific channels for offensive jokes.

“In our discussions with the tumblr group, we realized that the situation was far more complicated than we realized. There is a a third party, not associated with us or the tumblr group, who is deliberately spreading false information with the presumed agenda of causing drama and conflict between us. With this in mind, we've agreed the best course of action is to mutually end the escalation of conflict and apologize for what occured. Following that, I want to again make clear that nobody should be going after the tumblr group, their discord server, or anywhere other online spaces. We don't know where the tumblr trolls came from, but we do not support them. Their statements were racist, antisemitic, and violent. What we did in their server was wrong and a mistake. 

I want to personally apologize to a few specific people for what happened. Their server got raided, and during all of it we did not take their mental health into account, causing a lot of people to have panic attacks. Their triggers were invalidated, and people were manipulated. There were also a lot of innapropriate and offensive statements involved. While many things happened without my knowledge, it spiraled out of control because of the initial server raid, and I want to offer my sincerest apologies for that, and for everything else.”

Update:

He lied. He doesn’t regret anything.

Do you remember how he claimed he never ordered an attack on anybody?

Yes.... that was a lie.

He did plan to attack, though one member - the one they would later throw out of the admin team stopped him from attacking more people.

It should have given us red flags they would ban the only member from the team who was actively against the bullying.

And as we see here they did attack the second time as soon as the opportunity arouse when Artillery were sending people after us after saying we should suck his d*.

So he didnt learn a thing. Please survivors stay save.

[angellesword]

YOUR EYES TELL | JJK (08)

Summary: You live in a world where people see in black and white. The solution to finally see the colors? It's simple. You need to meet your soulmate and look at him in the eyes, but what if the person bound to you is already contented with the monochromatic world? What if...Jeongguk, your soulmate, is already in love with someone else?

Alternatively:

"A future without you is a world without color."

Genre: soulmate au, e2l, slow burn, angst, fluff, roommate au

Pairing: Artist!Jungkook x Lawyer!Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Series: CHAPTER 7 | CHAPTER 9

warnings: unrealistic court happenings i am not a lawyer ok mention of physical abuse, drinking problems, child trauma, mental illness, and infidelity. I want to build a whole new world in this fic that’s why i also didn’t research about divorce trials I’m sorry. OC is kind of annoying/disappointing in this chapter (?) or not (?) Young Choi Soobin of TXT is the kid in this chapter’s moodboard

Jeongguk was the ex-boyfriend Red was talking about.

You figured this out when you were at Seokjin's party. Frankly, the way your soulmate was looking at Red was already a giveaway, but then you had to confirm it yourself.

The only way to do that was to either confront Jeongguk or your assistant.

You chose neither and it was because you were afraid to hear what they would or wouldn't say. This being said, you resorted to your last option.

"Come on..." It was hard to sit on the floor when you're wearing a damn long dress, but this didn't stop you from rummaging through Red's personal things.

It's the middle of the night. You left Jeongguk at your apartment right after he reached his high.

You just wanted to teach him a lesson for being a brat. He was always so rude to you and you honestly thought that he was just in denial—that soon enough, he would realize that you two were really destined to be together.

Apparently, that wasn't going to happen.

You went to your office at one in the morning just to find something that would verify your speculation. You got what you wanted. The photograph of Jeongguk kissing your assistant confirmed it.

Your tears fell.

You didn't know why you felt betrayed. It wasn't like they wanted this. They hadn't done anything wrong. Fate was just cruel. Why didn't you meet Jeongguk first? You couldn't blame him for falling in love with Red—she was sweet, beautiful, and smart. Anyone would definitely like her, so you had no choice but to swallow the lump in your throat and accept this.

You just had to pretend like everything was alright.

It wasn't.

The divorce trial was near and there were still so many things you had to fix. Work was seriously draining the hell out of you and it wasn't like Jeongguk was helping. He was actually adding up to the stress you were feeling.

Jeongguk was giving you the silent treatment and no—it wasn't the type of silence you were used to. Before Seokjin's party, your soulmate was quiet, but not really. He would occasionally huff to let you know that he was annoyed at you. He would also stamp his feet and slam the door just to spite you.

You didn't mind. You knew he was just being a brat; however, things were different now.

After the night of Seokjin's party, Jeongguk changed. He was eerily silent, always avoiding eye contact with you.

You tried talking to him. Regrettably, you were only greeted by stillness.

"You want pizza, Gukkie?"

Nothing.

"Have you watched the latest episode of Start-up?"

Still nothing.

"Did you have a good sleep?"

Nope. Nothing. Nada.

"Wanna make out on the couch?"

Jeongguk's head jolted to your direction. His eyes were wide, cheeks turning crimson because of your bold statement.

"Hey!" You giggled, clearly happy with his reaction. "You finally looked at me!"

Jeongguk shook his head and then he went straight to his room.

You were unbelievable.

You pouted your lips, giving up. You had a feeling that he would come around.

He did. Days later, Jeongguk surprised you when he stood right in front of the door of your apartment. He was blocking your way out.

"Gukkie, I'm going to be late." You sighed. He reminded you of Miri, your cat that's always trying to stop you from leaving.

"You can't leave." His jaw clenched.

You let out a breath once again.

"Don't do this please. Mr. Kim needs me,"

The trial was happening today. You needed to run down a few things with your client before you go to the court room.

"You just don't get it, do you?" Jeongguk folded his arms over his chest.

You stared at him.

"I don't get what?" It was hard to keep your composure when the thing you had been trying to avoid for so long was being rubbed in your face. You knew exactly what Jeongguk was implying.

"—that you want me to drop this case because you want Red all to yourself?"

Jeongguk froze. What was the point of staying silent when you always knew what was running inside his head?

You just always knew.

"You don't have to pretend that you care about Soobin's well-being. I have enough people doing just that," you slightly pushed Jeongguk to the side so that you could pass through the door.

Ah, people.

They're all the same, always trying to conceal their self-interest by pretending that they care for others.

You liked Jeongguk—actually; you were convinced you loved him. He was your soulmate after all, but sometimes love wasn't enough to just give into what he wanted.

This wasn't about your relationship. This was about Soobin's welfare. He's just a child. You were a lawyer who swore an oath to protect the oppressed and incapable. You were their voice.

It sounded cheesy, but this was the type of person you aspired to be. The world was already dark, it wouldn't hurt to be someone's light.

Jeongguk didn't understand your reasons. It was evident when he showed up in court to watch you defend Kim Seokjin.

At first, you thought your eyes were failing you. Was he really here? Was he really the man at the back of the room wearing that big hoodie?

It was him. The familiar scowl on his face said so. Jeongguk was the only person who looked at you like you had offended his whole family.

"All rise!"

You turned to your client upon hearing the bailiff's demand.

"It's going to be alright," assured by you.

Seokjin smiled. He was looking at Red instead of you. He needed the comfort of his soulmate.

Red grinned back. She wasn't worried. She trusted you. She was certain you would succeed. Soobin wasn't going to be taken away from his father.

The first few minutes of the trial went smooth. You had your story straight and with the way the judge was nodding; you instantly knew she was in favor of your side.

Unfortunately, things started to go ugly during the cross-examination of witnesses.

Jung Hoseok was the first one to take the stand. He was the expert witness.

"You are the marriage counselor of Mr. and Mrs. Kim for months now, right?"

"Yes." Hoseok answered the opposing counsel. It was weird seeing him this serious. Your friend was always grinning, but you told him to try to keep a neutral face. This way, the judge and the jury wouldn't know if he was caught off guard by the question of the other side's attorney.

"Mr. Jung, is it true that marriage counselors rarely suggest divorce to their clients?"

"Depends—" Hoseok bit his tongue. You told him to simply answer yes or no. Be responsive to the question and never explain. "I mean, yes."

"And yet here we are..." Ms. Choi, the opposing attorney, shrugged her shoulders.

"Objection!" You stood up. "Relevance?"

You didn't understand why Ms. Choi asked that question to Hoseok when she's just shrugging it off now.

"Sustained." The judge felt the same way.

Ms. Choi raised her hand as if surrendering.

"My bad. I'm just curious, you know? If Mr. Jung is indeed an effective counselor, then why did he suggest that the Kim couple push through the divorce?"

Ms. Choi was furrowing her brow at Hoseok.

"Isn't that true, Counselor Jung? You told Mrs. Kim that it's better to end her marriage with Mr. Kim?"

"Yes." The expert witness answered truthfully.

The opposing side's attorney smiled mockingly.

"It's because you feared for Mrs. Kim's safety, right?"

"What?" Jung Hoseok was lost.

"Come on, Mr. Jung you know exactly what I am talking about! You found out that Mr. Kim is an alcoholic and you are scared that he might harm Mrs. Kim and Soobin, right?" Ms. Choi pointed at the five year old kid who was busy coloring books in the far corner of the room. He was with Seokjin's mother.

"Objection, Your Honor! Compound question!" You glared at Ms. Choi.

"Sustained." The judge clenched her jaw. "Ms. Choi, separate your questions. You are misleading the jury..."

Ms. Choi was flustered, yet she still held her head high. She knew she had the upper hand here.

"Is Mr. Kim alcoholic, Mr. Jung?" She tried again.

Hoseok cleared his throat.

"He had a history of abusing alcohol years ago."

"And you know this because you're also a licensed alcohol and drug counselor, correct?"

"Yes..."

"And Mr. Kim Seokjin also told you about his issue with regard to alcohol abuse?"

"Yes." Hoseok swallowed hard.

There were papers that could attest to Hoseok's claim. This was a win for Mrs. Kim. You could see her growing sarcastic smile that was directed at Red.

You inhaled deeply.

"Mr. Jung, can you please tell us the rate of patients going through alcohol relapse?"

"Uh, it's sixty to ninety percent after the first year of treatment," answered by Hoseok.

"I see. How long has it been since Mr. Kim sobered up?"

"As far as I know, it has been three years."

"Huh." Ms. Choi crossed her arms. "So is there a possibility that Mr. Kim would experience an alcohol relapse?"

"Yes."

"What's the statistical probability, Mr. Jung?"

"About fifty percent high." Hoseok looked dejected. He wanted to help Seokjin win the case, but he couldn't lie.

"I see." Ms. Choi was smiling as if she had already won the case.

"Can you tell us now the effects of experiencing an alcohol relapse? Or a slip?"

Hoseok's palms were sweating. Slip was one episode of drinking alcohol after trying to stay sober. Relapse, on the other hand, was the return to unhealthy behavior. Slip wasn't always followed by a relapse.

Hoseok also explained that there were different stages of relapse. Emotional relapse could cause suppression of emotions, becoming more isolated, trying to blame other people, and aggression, especially when they were confronted. There's also mental and physical relapse which included glamorizing alcohol and compulsive desires to drink.

"No further questions, Your Honor." The corner of Ms. Choi's mouth turned up upon realizing that the jury was in favor of their side now.

You had to step up your game.

The next witness was Son Chae-young. She was Soobin's babysitter. Chae-young had been living with the Kims ever since Soobin was born. She's a witness testifying against Seokjin.

Chae-young cleared her throat when your eyes landed on her. She already felt uncomfortable because of the way you were looking at her.

The way you stand up—shoulder down, neck long—was intimidating.

"You have a really nice necklace, Ms. Son."

Chae-young flinched upon hearing your compliment. She was confused. Mrs. Kim and Attorney Choi told her that you were scary, this was evident by the way you present yourself, but then...the way your eyes light up made her feel at ease. Your voice was soft too.

"Ah...thanks," regardless of your sweet persona, Chae-young still couldn't help but feel embarrassed. Why were you looking at her as if she was important? As if you were here to protect and not cross-examine her?

"Is it from Cartier?"

"Yes!" The babysitter beamed at you as she touched her pretty jewelry.

You smiled warmly at her.

"Did you buy it yourself?"

"Objection! Relevance?" The opposing lawyer clenched her fist. She was shaking, causing you to smile bigger. Guess she knew what was coming to her, huh?

"I'm getting there, Your Honor," said by you. Your expression screamed confidence that the judge was compelled to believe you.

"Overruled."

You continued.

"So...Ms. Son, did you buy that necklace? Or is it a gift?"

"Uh..." Chae-young's lips trembled. She was looking at Mrs. Kim, as if she was asking for her boss' help. "I-I bought it for myself..."

"I see." You nodded. Humoring her. "Do you have any other job aside from babysitting Kim Soobin?"

The nanny shook her head.

"N-No. I'm a full-time nanny of Mrs. Kim's son." Chae-young's lips were still shaking; her eyes were quivering as well.

"Hm, interesting..." You went closer to the witness. "That means you're earning what? Two hundred fifty dollars a month?"

"Objection, Your Honor! I still can't see the relevance of this!" Ms. Choi was losing her mind.

You turned to glare at her.

"Can’t you really see the relevance of this or are you just scared?"

You heard the judge's hit the gavel; she was calling your attention.

"Get to the point right now." The judge demanded at you. It was this or your statement was going to be sustained.

"I am merely establishing my point, Your Honor." Your voice was rough. "The necklace Ms. Son is wearing is worth four thousand three hundred dollars. I know because I have the same necklace and it took me, a lawyer, months!" You paused for a while just to emphasize the word months, "to buy it."

You turned to Chae-young when the judge remained silent.

"So tell me, Ms. Son, how can a full-time nanny like you who's earning minimum wage buy that kind of luxurious jewelry? Huh?" You were standing too close to the witness so Attorney Choi used this as an opportunity to object.

"Your Honor, she is badgering the witness!"

"Overruled." But the judge wasn't having any of it. "Answer the question, Ms. Son."

"I'm sorry!" The nanny's face twisted in fear. "Mrs. Kim bought it for me—"

"It's a gift!" Mrs. Kim blurted out, unable to contain her anger anymore. God. She hated you. "I bought it for her last month! It's my birthday gift for her!"

You smirked. Attorney Choi was panicking. She was caressing Mrs. Kim's hand, telling her to calm down.

Sadly, Mrs. Kim could not be stopped.

"Why am I explaining to you when you have no right to question my intention! It's my money so I get to decide what to do with it!"

She was yelling at you and it almost made you laugh. Why was she so defensive?

"May I remind you that you are a married woman, Mrs. Kim? You have to consider your husband's decision when it comes to spending that amount of money." You said this while glancing at the jury.

Base on their expressions, you knew that they agreed with you. This was a win on your side. One of the valid reasons of Seokjin for wanting a divorce was this. Mrs. Kim didn't know how to manage their assets.

You weren't done, though. You had to discredit the witness. You had to win the jury's side in all aspects.

"And you said you bought it last month for Ms. Son's birthday?" You shook your head, focusing your eyes at the nanny.

"Tell us, Ms. Son, when is your birthday?"

Mrs. Kim's face became pale upon hearing your question.

"January seventeen...”

You turned your attention back to Mrs. Kim again.

"Your birthday present is many months late, Mrs. Kim. Either that or you're just lying to hide the fact that you gave Ms. Son the necklace in exchange of testifying against your husband—"

"Objection—"Attorney Choi tried to stop you, but you cut her off too.

"Isn't that right, Ms. Son? You are bribed by your boss to say that you always see Mr. Kim Seokjin drinking alcohol—"

"Your Honor—" The opposing attorney was losing control, her objections were drowning because of how loud your voice was.

"Mrs. Kim wants you to lie! To say that her husband isn't a good father! That he isn't a good influence to Soobin!"

"Yes!"

You stopped trying to pressure Chae-young because it already worked. She admitted the truth.

"Mrs. Kim bribed me!" The babysitter sobbed, looking at you like you were the Lord and she was a sinner.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I-I can't say no, please...please...I need this job!"

"You bitch!" Mrs. Kim abruptly stood up. She wanted to attack you; fortunately the security officers were able to stop her.

The jury was surprised to see Mrs. Kim's violent reaction. You, on the other hand, didn't even flinch.

You were used to this kind of scene. Besides, you couldn't get sidetracked. You still needed to prove your point.

And so you faced the jury.

"Is this the kind of person that you want to raise a sweet, innocent five year-old kid?"

One of the members of the jury clutched her chest. She was affected by what you had said. Truthfully, they were almost decided to grant the sole custody to Mrs. Kim; however, upon seeing the latter's behavior, the jury was having second thoughts now.

"Just look at her!" You pointed at Mrs. Kim who was still seething with rage.

"She constrained an adult! Imagine the bad things she could force Soobin to do! Mrs. Kim is a manipulator!" You raised your voice dramatically.

"My actions are nothing compared to what that asshole is doing!" Mrs. Kim screamed as she angrily pointed at her husband.

She was crying.

Kim Seokjin was quiet. He was shocked by your responses. He didn't expect you to be this bold. You were different from the lawyer he thought he knew.

You didn't have any limit. You didn't know when to stop just to prove a point.

"He's teaching my son that it's okay to be unfaithful to your wife! Jury, please!" Mrs. Kim was desperate. "Don't let him come near my son! He's a drunken bastard!"

The judge was hitting the gavel again. There were too much drama and unnecessary comments from Mrs. Kim.

You shook your head. You couldn't stop now. The jury was undecided. They changed their minds from time to time. You could see sympathy in their eyes as they looked at the wife.

"Mr. Kim Seokjin is sober! You should be ashamed of yourself, Mrs. Kim! You keep blaming your husband when you're the reason why he turned alcoholic in the first place—"

"Objection, Your Honor!" Attorney Choi glared at you. "The attorney is assuming facts!"

You disagreed before the judge could say sustained.

"Am I?" You smirked at the judge before turning to your table to get your evidence.

Seokjin looked at you nervously.

"Please tell me you're not doing what I think you're doing," groaned by your client.

You were blinded by your role as a lawyer, so you ignored Seokjin's plea.

"Don't do this..."

Seokjin was already too late.

"I have here the evidence that will prove that Mrs. Kim is the reason why her husband turned alcoholic."

You brought out the printed photos of Seokjin's beaten up face. Bruises, cuts, and other physical injuries were seen.

The jury gasped. Attorney Choi was groaning as she told the judge that these photos were not entered into evidence.

You were playing dirty, but so were they. Ms. Choi told you that they wouldn't bring Mr. Kim's sobriety issue in this court. She lied.

"These pictures are given to me by Mrs. Kim Sunghee, Seokjin's mother." You glanced at your client's mother.

"She knows that her son's wife was assaulting him. Seokjin didn't want to feel his wife's punches so he resorted to drinking the pain away. Mr. Kim just wants to be numb."

"N-No..." Your client's tears streamed down his cheeks. He was calling your name, begging you to stop.

It felt like everyone was begging you to stop; even Sunghee was shaking her head.

It was wrong. This was a mistake. Seokjin's mother realized this when Soobin began to cry. He was silently crying at first, but when the little boy saw the photos in your hand, he started hyperventilating.

"Appa!" Soobin's eyes dilated. He could barely breathe.

Mrs. Kim stood up to attend to her son.

"Soobin!" Mrs. Kim was wailing.

Things were becoming messy.

You didn't understand what was happening, so you just stood there.

"Appa! A-Appa is hurting!" Soobin was losing it; his eyes were rolling in the back of his head.

"Call 911!" Red shouted.

The noise was deafening.

You still didn't get what was happening.

Seokjin went near you.

"I told you not to do it!" He shouted, snatching the photos away from your shaky hands.

"This isn't about me or my wife!" Seokjin continued to scream at you.

You were stunned.

Your client was blaming you.

This is your fault! Seokjin said.

You were wrong. You didn't have to bring out these photos because apparently, Soobin knew.

He witnessed how his mom used to beat up his father.

The poor kid was traumatized.

He had to get some help.

His parents thought he had recovered.

It had been years.

The thing about trauma was, it never went away. It was there—silently sleeping and waiting for that one thing that would trigger it.

You triggered Soobin.

"I-I didn't know..." Your voice was low as you stated your excuse.

No one wanted to hear your lame excuse, not even Jeongguk.

You looked at your soulmate once.

You looked at him desperately.

You looked at him hoping that he would understand—like he would comfort you.

He would never.

Jeongguk had this look in his eyes, the kind of feeling that expressed disappointment.

Jeongguk was disappointed in you.

It was clear because right now, he was shaking his head as if you had done the most horrifying thing in the world.

He shook his head before leaving you all alone.

No one wanted to be with you.

You were a disgrace.

[whereisten]

Mr. Hyde

A Hendery fic that’s part of our Halloween Series!

Summary: Hendery is sweet, charming, and kind, but he possesses a dark secret. Unfortunately, Mr. Hyde won’t stay quiet for much longer.

Pairing: Chemical Engineer!Hendery x female reader (college student)

Genre: angst, smut, fluff, violence, murder, horror

Word Count: 10.5k

Warnings: mental illness mention, blood mention, knife mention, murder described, death of side character, possessiveness, cursing, smut: semi-public sex, protected sex, thigh riding, nipple sucking, slapping, choking, rough sex, car sex mention, daddy kink, size kink, slight degradation, dirty talk.

(A/N: WELLL Halloween is here you guys!! Thank you for the support we have gotten for this series, I hope you enjoy this fic inspired by the iconic Jekyll&Hyde story!❤️🥺)

————

“Oh, hello Hendery..”

“Hello, Mr. Hyde..”

“And how did it go today..with the Mayor?”

“That’s none of your concern, Hyde. Leave it to me.”

The dark voice lets out a haunting chuckle. “Hendery..what would you like me to do?”

“Nothing! I said, it’s none of your concern!” Hendery slams his hand down onto the counter.

“But it’s our lab, isn’t it?” 

Hendery cups his face as he breaks down to tears. “Why?! Why won’t you leave me alone?!”

“Oh..Hendery, you can’t get rid of me, no matter what crazy toxins you concoct. I’ll be here, I’ll always be here.”

———

“I don’t see what my difference my presence here makes..” You roll your eyes and step out of your father’s black SUV.

The driver closes the door behind you while your father takes your hand in his and waves to the crowd with the other.

Today, you’ve joined him for a fundraising event in City Hall. The program is designed to bring awareness to a Missing Persons Search Team Fund. Lately, people have been going missing at an alarming rate and your father, the Mayor, is unsure of what to do about it. The police and volunteering citizens had done the best they could to conduct thorough search parties but no one was ever found. These people varied in age and description so there was no way to formulate a possible killer’s profile.

Your father initiated a curfew for everyone to abide by until they found the missing people and the kidnapper..dead or alive.

You were a college student and your institution was about two hours away, but your father didn’t feel safe and insisted on you staying at home while taking classes online. You did as he said, for you knew that this must’ve been difficult for him, considering your own dealings with the death of your mother. She was found murdered in an alleyway a few years ago, prompting a change in your father’s life. He was determined to become a leading figure in society that would bring down the city’s crime rate. And it worked...until now.

“The more people we have on board, the faster we find these people and the better I look, the better OUR family looks.” He whispered into your ear while displaying a wide smile to his “fans.”

You smiled as well and nodded.

And so, you found yourself seated at a round table by yourself as your father spoke with other leaders, sergeants, politicians, and the fund creators.

And what difference did your presence make? Nothing.

You scrolled through your phone and huffed. You saw pictures of your friends back at college. There had been a Halloween party the night before and they all posted pictures of themselves in their costumes looking drunk and happy. 

You were jealous to say the least. You just wanted a normal life, but now even Halloween was canceled because of the curfew your father put in place.

You didn’t notice that a slender man with brown hair sat down beside you as you pouted.

“You must be so bored..” His low voice spoke.

You looked up at him and smiled. “Hi..yeah, I am very bored.”

The man in a nice dress shirt and tie laughed and then you realized you may have insulted one of the organizers.

“Oh!” You sat up straight in your chair and put your phone down. “I’m so sorry..I didn’t mean to offend—“

“Oh..of course not, sweetheart. I’m quite bored myself.”

Sweetheart. The way that word left his lips made your heart tremble.

You nodded and stared at his heart-shaped lips, maybe a little too long. “I see..” You looked away. “My name is y/n..the mayor is..”

“Your father..yes, is that the only reason for you being here?” He tilted his head while smirking.

You looked to the side and hesitated. You looked up to him with wide eyes.

“Y-yes, I’m sorry but—“

“Don’t be sorry, my name is Dr. Wong, but you can call me Hendery.”

Your mouth fell open. He looked like he was your age, but he already had a doctoral degree? You were stunned.

“I know..I’m kinda young, but I skipped a few grades.”

Your eyes widened. “Wow! That’s so cool, what do you do?”

Hendery smiled when you looked shocked by his title and complimented him. “I’m the leading chemical engineer at the WCT Lab..”

You gasped, WCT lab was responsible for breakthrough advancements in technology as well as medical advancements. That was what your city was primarily known for. And for this young man to be the leading engineer was amazing. Why was he sitting with you, a college student? Surely, you were only insulting his intelligence.

Hendery was pleased by your surprised look once again, he felt a sense of pride.

“Dr. Wong, I mean, Hendery..that’s amazing! You guys have done some wonderful things at that lab. Well..of course, you already know that.”

You closed your eyes. Oh how dumb you must’ve sounded to him.

But Hendery only adored you even more when you got flustered.

“It’s okay, y/n..It happens all the time. People don’t expect that from me, someone that’s just 21 years old, to be the head of all projects.”

You nodded, then looked to your father who was still speaking with several men and women of importance surrounding him.

“Why aren’t you up there with him?” You turned back to Hendery. “You’re just as important as them.”

Hendery glanced up at your father then back at you. Something about his gaze felt..good. His eyes were intense but made you feel like it was just the two of you in the room. You felt warm as you saw his shirt hug his biceps as he leaned forward.

“My presence doesn’t make a difference either, but it does make me look good.” He gave a wink as his smile widened.

Your face became warm.

“I’ll tell you what..come with me for a moment, I’m going to show you a cool trick.”

He stood up and held his hand out for you to take. You held it and smoothed your dress down as you stood up.

Hendery thought you were beautiful, unlike anyone else. You were like a butterfly with a unique pattern of vibrant colors on its wings. Your touch was delicate like one too.

He took you to the kitchen in the hall. No one was there but the two of you.

You stood by the island in the center.

“What are we doing here?”

“Are you nervous?” Hendery shuffled through the freezer.

“No..” You lied as you looked around for the closest knife to pick up just in case he tried anything.

“The knives are to your right.” He called out, as if hearing your thoughts.

You chuckled and leaned against the counter while feeling embarrassed.

“Okay, so I’ve got some ice..” He placed a few ice cubes onto the countertop and then reached over for the salt dispenser.

“And some salt..”

You nodded, unsure of where he was going with this. “Okay.”

“Now, hold your hand out.” He smiled at you again.

Your brows furrowed but you did as he said.

He placed his hand over yours. Your skin was smooth and warm, his touch was gentle as he slowly traced his fingertips over your knuckles.

He stood so close to you, you could feel his breath on your forehead.

Your eyes grew as a silent moment rested between the two of you, you looked up at him as if no one had ever held your hand before.

He cleared his throat and looked away from your eyes and to your hand. “I’m going to put some salt in your palm, then I’m going to place ice on it, simple right?”

You nodded.

Hendery smiled again and glanced down at your lips.

“Alright..good.”

He poured the salt out then put about three ice cubes into your hand.

“Now, close your hand.”

You do as he says and after a few seconds you wince in pain.

A burning feeling shoots through your hand, you open your palm out and shake the ice to the floor.

“Oh my God, Hendery! What the hell was that?” You look up in pain. 

Hendery laughs. 

“You see, salt lowers the melting point of ice..hence why you briefly experienced the burning sensation.”

“I could’ve gotten frostbite!” 

Hendery only laughed harder. “Y/n...you wouldn’t be so stupid as to let it stay long enough for that...but I am.”

You looked up at him questioningly.

He poured salt out into his own hand and placed ice onto it.

He shut his hand and smiled. You watched him intensely. How could he endure this type of pain for so long?

“Hendery..that’s enough, you should stop now.” 

You go to grab his hand, but he turns.

“No, no, I’m fine, I promise.”

“Surely, that must be painful, Hendery!”

“Does it impress you?” He turns when you try to open his hand again. He smirks while he watches you freak out.

“No..no! It doesn’t, it’s freaking me out actually!”

Hendery pouts with his hand still closed. “Oh no..I wanted to impress the pretty girl.”

You shook your head. “Let me see your hand.”

He turns again.

“Hendery!”

“I’ll let you see it, if you let me take you out some time.”

You tilted your head. “Oh my God, that’s why you did this? Hendery..why didn’t you just ask?” You peel his hand open and see red, burnt skin. Several lesions have been created.

Your eyes widened but Hendery only adores your face while you hold his hand.

“So is that a yes?” He pays no attention to the burns on his palm, knowing that they’d go away soon enough if he just drank the right thing for it.

“You’re crazy, but yes, you can take me out.”

————

[Two Days Later] 

You and Hendery swapped phone numbers later that night. You agreed to go to the street art fair where you would walk around and learn more about each other.

Hendery waved to you as he walked over to the entrance.

He looked cooler now, in a flannel and jeans while aviator sunglasses covered his eyes. 

His hair had a slight wave to it and hung more loosely than it did the first time you met.

“Hey Doc, how’s your hand?” 

Hendery held his palm out to you and to your surprise, you saw nothing that would indicate he had burned himself just two days prior. His palm looked normal.

“W-what?”

“All healed up, I told you I’d be fine.”

He smirked then took your hand and led you through the gate.

The fair was calm, you got to talk about your major in college and why you were home this year.

Hendery told you that he got his degree overseas and came back here to help your town. He said that he always felt drawn to it for it needed so much assistance, he felt he was the one to help.

You liked his dedication to his craft, but even more, you liked watching him talk about it. His eyes were shielded from you, but even then you could tell that he was passionate and in love with his work.

“Well..I guess it’s time to go home..gotta get back before curfew.” 

You stared up at him. “You’re right. I had a—“

“Y/n! What are you doing here? I thought you were home.”

It was none other than your father. He hustled towards you. Hendery’s smile fell as he watched him walk over. 

“I’ll go mad if I spend any more time in the house, dad.” You sighed and crossed your arms.

His focus shifts from you and to Hendery. “And young man, it’s nice to see you again, but what has my daughter done to warrant your presence?”

You rolled your eyes, your finger rubbed your temple.

Hendery chuckled softly. “Your daughter and I had a wonderful time today, we were just saying goodbye.”

Your father frowned and looked back at you.

“Well...goodbye then.” He stepped towards you.

You turned to leave with your father before you could be embarrassed any more. Your father was always like this since your mother died, overprotective and on guard.

“Y/n…” Hendery’s soft voice called out.

You turned back to look at him. Your face looked gorgeous in the sunset, the sun made your eyes glitter and your lips were shaped perfectly. Of all the art he had seen today, you, in this moment, were the prettiest sight he’d ever seen.

“Yes?”

“I’ll..see you later.”

You smiled and nodded. “Of course.”

When you got to your father’s car, he scolded you on how you shouldn't be interested in speaking with anyone right now, for everyone was a suspect.

“You have to be careful, no one is safe!”

You leaned your head against the window.

“I understand, father, but all of my friends are at college right now, would it really hurt if I go out every now and then?”

“Yes! Yeah it would hurt, why? Because you could go missing or lose your life!”

“Why are you so strict? He’s a nerd, what harm could he possibly do to me. I thought you’d like him, I know mom would’ve--”

You stopped when you realized what you had said. Your mom's death was something that you were both still grappling with. You tried not to speak of her, for it only made both of you more upset.

Your dad sighed, he held back tears. “Y/n..I’m sorry..I’m sorry I’m this way..Sometimes I can’t help it, but..I’m just worried, I-“

“I know, dad..let’s just go home.”

When you got inside he spoke to you again before you headed to your room. “That boy..If you want to see him again..He’ll be at the soup kitchen on Thursday, he’s always helping out there.”

You turned and smiled. “Thanks, dad.”

———-

[Thursday]

You had volunteered at the soup kitchen a few times during high school, it was a rewarding experience, for you got to help out while hearing from members of the community that you wouldn’t usually meet or speak to. They varied in age and overall life experiences, each one had a story to tell. 

You stood in the utilities closet of the kitchen alone and put your apron on, but struggled to tie it in the back.

“Damn it..” You whispered, you just couldn’t find the other strap.

Then you felt a presence behind you. 

“Do you need help?” You heard a familiar voice say.

But before you could spin around to face him, his fingers tapped along your waist on both sides and grabbed the straps. He stepped closer, leaning down to breathe against the back of your neck.

A chill ran through your body as the apron tightened around your body perfectly.

You finally spun around to face him.

“Hendery.” 

He watches his name fall from your lips.

He smirks and licks his lips. “How’d you know?”

You laughed, but his intense and low gaze on your face made you weak.

“Your voice..I’d recognize it anywhere.”

Hendery blushed and laughed.

“Do you like my voice, sweetheart?”

Another chill vibrates through your body and you find yourself pressing your legs together.

You breathe heavily and nod. “I do..and I’d like it if you’d call me at night...when you leave work of course.”

“Understood.” He licks his lips again and turns to leave. You follow behind him and out to the main dining area where you both serve food together.

During your break, you watched him go to each table to talk to all of the families eating. He grinned as they asked him how he’d been doing since the last time they saw him the week before.

He even sat down next to any elderly attendees that needed assistance with eating their food.

Your heart fluttered. He was so kind, caring and handsome on top of it all.

“How long have you two been seeing each other?” A man said. His voice broke you out of the trance Hendery had you in.

“Oh..” You turned to him as you leaned against a wall.

“We aren’t dating.”

The man that spoke to you was none other than Yuta, the head chef and owner of Osaka Moon, the best restaurant in the city. He was in charge of providing food for the soup kitchen every Thursday and did a wonderful job each time from what you had heard. Everyone loved his five star meals.

He smiled softly. “Well..if you continue to look at him like that..it won’t be long til you do.”

“Like what?” Your brows knitted.

Yuta only chuckled and shrugged his shoulders before walking away.

But he was right, you started dating. You found yourself FaceTiming Hendery every night until you fell asleep. You spoke about everything, never running out of topics to talk about and never getting bored. His personality, like Cinderella’s slipper, fit yours incredibly well.

Fortunately, that wasn’t the only thing that fit perfectly. 

———

[1 Month Later]

One day at the soup kitchen, the two of you found yourselves knocking over cans of fruit in the kitchen closet.

Your legs wrapped around his waist as he slid in and out of you for the first time. You just couldn’t hold back anymore. You wanted him badly and a kiss just wasn’t enough.

He covered your mouth with his hand, for your moans were beautiful but grew increasingly louder as he rubbed your clit. 

He breathed heavily into your neck. “Sweetheart, I’m going to ruin you later for being so loud.”

You let out a mewl while the wetness between your legs increased at his words.

Your nails scratched his back as he pinned you against a cabinet.

And later that day, he did ruin you in his car before he let you out to go home. He parked just a few blocks away, luckily his windows were tinted so no one could see him bringing you to paradise in the back seat with your hands tied behind your back with his belt.

You laid down together when you finished.

His fingers played in your scalp as your back rested against his chest. He kissed your neck and listened to you breathe.

“How’s school?” He said in between kisses.

You took his other hand in yours and intertwined your fingers. “It’s okay, finals are stressful.”

“Well, you know I’m here to help.” He kisses you again.

You smiled. “Of course, but I know you have your own issues to deal with. How are things at the lab?”

You knew he had been frustrated lately because some of his appeals for certain projects had been denied by the national organizations. You failed to remember the very specific details he told you the night before, but he was overjoyed that you remembered him even mentioning it.

He smiled to himself, tucking your hair behind your ear as you yawned.

“Things are okay, it'll all work out, I’m sure.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Hendery chuckled. “Because they all give in to me sooner or later.” His voice sounded a bit different then, it was deeper, rougher.

Deep into the night after Hendery drops you off home, he drives down an empty street.

“When will you tell her?”

“Tell her what?”

“About me! About us..”

“She will never know about you because you don’t matter!” Hendery says sternly.

“Fuck you! I’m the reason why you got this far, you fool!”

He grips the steering wheel and winces. “I like her..a lot. I can’t hurt her. I won’t hurt her.’

“And how many times have you said that before? Hmm?”

Hendery blinks slowly and looks to his rear view mirror.

“The clock strikes 8 and the world goes empty, which poor, wandering soul will be our next victim?”

“‘Our?’ You’re on your own..”

“And when the blood is on my hands, don’t forget to look down at yours too..now shut up, and stop here..this girl looks lonely.”

“No..I won’t do that.”

“I wasn’t asking! Pull over!”

“No!” Hendery struggles, but pulls over and stops right beside a girl waiting at a bus stop.

“Hello..need a lift?”

——

[1 Week Later]

You hadn’t seen Hendery since that night, you knew that he was busy with work, but you didn’t think he’d be this busy.

“Hey.” You say once he answers the FaceTime call.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

He looks disheveled and has bags under his eyes. His eyes look intense as he props the phone up beside his computer screen and continues to type.

“Are you still at the lab?” 

Hendery feels soft when he hears your sweet voice, it calms him down. He stops typing and looks at you, all cuddled up in your blanket on the bed.

“Yeah..” he pouts, “I wish I could be there with you right now..”

“Oh? And what would you do if you were here?”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Ahhh you naughty girl, well..just for that, I’d only cuddle you..”

“Henderyyyy don’t be so cruel, what if I need you?” 

“Then I’d hug you tightly and make you wait until the morning.” He winked and started typing again.

“What if I call you “daddy?” You whisper into the phone, knowing that it would drive him crazy.

His typing fingers stuttered for a moment but he exhaled and furrowed his brows as he continued his work.

“Baby? I haven’t seen you in so long, play with me..please.” You begged.

“No..not tonight, sweetheart.” He wasn’t even looking at the screen anymore.

“But baby..”

“I said no!” He said angrily. You never heard him like this before. His voice was rough again and different, like it had doubled.

He looked at you then back at his computer screen.

He fidgeted and had trouble breathing for a moment, but you stayed silent.

“I’m—I’m sorry, I should go now, goodnight.”

He hung up before you could say goodnight.

That was the first of many moments that were strange to you. Hendery wasn’t as sweet sometimes. He’d be short with you even at the soup kitchen. When you tugged his shirt to pull him to the back he ignored you and fixed his hair.

He looked tired and you tried to pin it on him acting on the stress he was recently experiencing, but the truth was that it was much more complicated.

Late at night, Hendery would find himself fighting someone else. Someone that had been more intent on doing their own thing.

“Let’s take a walk in the park tonight.”

“No, Mr. Hyde..”

“Really? I think it would help you to relieve some stress.”

“I need to sleep..I feel terrible, I don’t even know what you’re doing anymore..why don’t you stop this? Why don’t you leave me alone so I can function like a normal person?” Hendery holds his head as he lays down on his couch.

“You can rest while I take care of the imbeciles out there, the more we kill, the happier we’ll be.”

“No!!” Hendery shouts. “How many more?! How many more must die at your hand? I will control you! You will not overrule me!”

He grabs a glass of green liquid from the coffee table and brings to his lips. He chugs it down as tears stream down his face, but soon he is thrown to the floor on his knees. He feels fingers in his throat, his eyes roll in the back of his head as veins protrude from his forehead. Then, out comes the liquid that he just struggled to swallow.

He balls his fists up and cries. “NOOOO!! That was the last of it!”

“It’s okay, Hendery, it’s time to go to sleep anyway. You’ll make more tomorrow, but you’ll be just as defenseless against me.”

“No, no, please don’t! Please don’t kill anyone else!”

“And what would you rather me do to gain satisfaction? Torture them until they BEG to be killed?” Mr. Hyde laughs sinisterly as Hendery drifts into unconsciousness.

The next morning, Hendery wakes to find himself covered in blood, he can’t remember how he got to his bed or whose blood is on him, but he sees the knife at the end of the bed covered in blood as well. He breaks down in tears and yells out for mercy as he realizes that he can no longer control Mr. Hyde.

————

[Two Days Later]

You meet up with Hendery for a Starbucks date.

“I’m sorry about the other night..the stress got to me.” Hendery smiles softly when he watches you burn your mouth with hot coffee.

The truth was that you like iced caramel macchiato but you wanted to be more “serious” around Hendery so you only drank black coffee like a “regular” adult.

You hissed as the hot liquid burned your tongue.

“How many times do I have to tell you?..just order what you want.” He giggled and sipped his own coffee.

“Eh, I know, but..isn't it a bit childish?” You asked with wide eyes.

Hendery chuckled and ran his hand down the side of your face. He adored you. 

“No..nothing is childish if you enjoy it.”

You smiled. “Okay.”

You sat in silence most of the time as you both worked on your projects separately. Hendery still looked handsome, but strange. You’d glance up at him every now and then and see that his brows were always knitted and his lips moved like he was talking to himself.

He spoke quickly, so you could never make out what he actually said.

The bags around his eyes were red and his cheeks looked more sunken in like he hadn’t been eating well. His shirt was crushed, but when you first met him his shirts were always pressed and tucked in neatly. And his hair had grown out, like he hadn’t bothered to visit a stylist recently.

“Hendery..is everything alright?” You put your hand on his.

He quickly withdrew his hand and held it while glaring at you.

“I’m fine!” He said loudly, the few customers sitting nearby turned to the two of you when they heard his roar.

He realized he was loud and relaxed into his seat. “I’m sorry, again. I-I was just frightened.”

You nod slowly and put your hand back under the table.

Before the two of you departed each other, you gave him a hug and a kiss. 

You walked towards your house as Hendery watched.

He felt pain in his heart when he watched you walk away with a defeated look. You were sad because of him, and he hated that. He just wanted to make you happy, he just wanted everything to be under control.

“Y/n..There’s a new art museum opening up on Friday, your father extended curfew just for it..would you like to go with me?”

You turned to him and smiled widely. “Is that a date?”

“Of course..we can spend some time in my car afterwards..if you want. Would that make you happy?” He gave you a wink.

You nodded. “As long as I’m with you, Hendery. I’m happy.”

———

[Two Days Later]

Hendery decides to have dinner with your father at his penthouse. He pretends to prepare a meal for him that was actually provided by Osaka Moon’s Catering company.

He had a maid make everything spotless and made sure to spend a little more time on his hair and outfit. He had to ensure that your father took him seriously, for he would plan to ask him once more for a donation from the city for his lab. They would be able to do more research this way. 

He had posited the question once before, but gained a disappointing ‘no,’ as your father focused more on the missing people’s fund, however, Hendery believed it imperative for the lab to gain new resources and make new developments that would positively affect the city’s environment.

So tonight, he hoped that with some food and humor, he could convince the mayor. 

“What are your intentions with my daughter? I see you have been seeing each other quite frequently lately..” your father took a bite of his steak and chewed while looking down at his plate.

Hendery smiled. “Your daughter and I have a wonderful relationship, I would say. She is very supportive and kind, the world could be better with more people like her.”

“Well, I certainly agree. Do you feel that you can protect her from this cruel world?” He looks up from his plate and looks sternly on Hendery.

Hendery swallows hard, but nods quickly. “Of course, I’d do anything to protect her.”

Cut the bullshit, get to the question.

A few more minutes pass. The two speak about wonderful changes that have occurred in the past year. Hendery even cracks a few jokes to get a chuckle from your father.

As things whine down and your father prepares to leave, Hendery leans forward and intertwines his fingers on the dining table.

“Mr. Y/l/n, I believe that you are a man of great intelligence, therefore, I believe that you will make the right call by supporting my lab.”

Your father raises his eyebrows and crosses his arms as Hendery continues.

“I believe that you will see the importance of funding our research at the lab. We will be able to make even more groundbreaking developments like we have in the past year. We need the resources should we continue.”

Your father thinks for a moment then shakes his head. “I am so sorry, son, but I cannot issue the funds to your lab at this time.”

Hendery sighs but the mayor continues.

“We are dealing with a huge crisis in our city right now, I have to help our citizens find their loved ones. Furthermore, with the holidays approaching, we must provide food and assistance to families in need. The budget for your lab is not there.”

“Yes, sir, I understand the importance of these things, but I have been asking for your assistance for these past few months now, we simply cannot go any further without it..” Hendery taps his finger against the table while trying to hold back. He swallows the grumbling in his chest.

His eyes stare intensely at the mayor, but the mayor is unfazed.

“I will not provide tax payers money to some boy that wants to do his little experiments..at the end of the day, your work being done is not a matter of life or death.”

Hendery twitches when he hears the mayor’s insult.

“Please..don’t make me do something I’ll regret.” He whispers lowly.

Your father leans forward in his chair.

“Is that a threat, boy?”

Hendery smirks and loosens his tie.

“I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but just because you gave me some food, doesn’t mean I will bend over and let you do what you will.”

Hendery laughs under his breath. “Your daughter did.”

Your father shoots up from the table.

“What did you say?!”

Hendery’s eyes narrow, his mouth grows into a creepy smile as he laughs. “You heard me!”

Your father walks around the table and grabs Hendery up by the collar, but Hendery grabs the steak knife and presses the sharp tip into his neck just deep enough to draw blood.

Your father freezes, his eyes widen in fear.

“Hendery, what in God’s name are you doing?!”

“Hendery isn’t here anymore, you fucking fool. You should’ve just listened to him the first time, now I have to take over because he was too weak!” Hendery’s voice comes out in a deep tone your father had never heard before. Venom practically leaves his tone as he speaks.

Your father stares in confusion as the knife presses in deeper.

“Listen, you worthless piece of shit. We thought you were smart but it turns out you’re just as dumb as any other bimbo in this shitty city. So let’s spell it out for you, give us the money or we will kill your daughter…”

His head snaps to the right. “We won’t kill her!” Hendery’s usual voice cries out.

“Shut up!” He snaps his head back to the left.

“You’re-you’re insane.” Your father stares into his red eyes and pale skin.

He looks strange and scary, like someone that was already dead.

This couldn’t possibly have been the same person he spoke to just a few minutes ago.

“Aren’t we all, mayor?” He chuckles and twists the knife, your father cries out in pain.

“Okay! Okay! I’ll give you the money!” Your father couldn’t lose you like he lost his wife. He wouldn’t mess up this time, he had to give Hendery whatever he wanted if he wanted you to stay alive and well.

Hendery nods. “Good.” 

He lets the mayor go and laughs loudly while still wielding the knife in his hand and watching the Mayor run out.

———

[Friday Night]

Hendery wakes up at 9 P.M. He looks down at his hands and sees bruises across his knuckles.

He sits up straight on the bed and rubs his head.

“Shit..what did you do?”

But there’s no answer.

He missed the entire day because of Mr. Hyde. He was taking his life over, it seemed the potion was no longer having an affect on him, for he couldn’t remember where he was on most nights. But even worse, more recently it seemed he’d blackout during the days as well.

He looks at his phone and sees that he has 13 missed calls and several text messages from you.

“Damn it!” He curses and jumps up from the bed. He runs to the shower to see if he can go to the art museum before you left.

He called you several times as he drove to the museum but you didn’t answer, you ignored his calls because you were pissed he didn’t show.

You were busy speaking with Ten, a writer for the city’s newspaper. He was observing an artwork when he came across you staring at your phone with tears in your eyes.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

You looked up at him with a somber expression then broke down even more. He took you outside where you talked about what happened. He then told you a joke to make you laugh and about his job.

“I focus on stories that deal with art and culture, so of course I had to be here.”

“Oh, that’s very nice. The pieces in there are really interesting..well, at least from what I saw before I started crying like an idiot.” You shrugged your shoulders.

“Don’t say that..you’re not an idiot. I’m sure he has a reason..you just need to talk about it.”

You nod. “But Ten, it’s not just that. He’s been...different lately. I can’t speak with him very often because he gets upset..this was supposed to be our first date together in a long time. It was supposed to be a “first” for us.”

Ten nodded as he watched you sniffle. “Have you thought about leaving him?”

You shook your head. “I really like him...I just think we need more time, maybe we just have to work on communication.”

Ten gave you a smile. “I agree, if you think he’s worth it, then you’ll both find a way to work it out. Now, it’s 9:30..would you like me to drop you home before you lose a slipper, Princess?”

You felt your face become warm as you smiled.

Ten walked you home as the two of you continued to talk about painters and the artistic styles you enjoyed.

You never noticed Hendery watching the two of you from across the street.

He felt his heart race, an animalistic side was creeping out as he watched you laugh and smile with another man. Sure, he didn’t show up for your date, but did that mean that you should move on so quickly?

Hendery grows angry, he sticks his hands into the pocket of his hoodie and watches Ten give you a hug at your doorstep.

“I should just text her back and apologize.”

“And what will that do? She’ll just ignore you then go on a date with this guy tomorrow.”

“Thats nonsense, she wouldn’t do that to me.”

“Oh, Hendery, he wants her, she wants him, it’s clear to see. But you won’t believe it until she trips and conveniently falls on his dick, will you?”

Hendery shakes his head. “Shut up!”

“Why don’t we just get rid of him so you don’t have to worry about that happening?”

“No! No more murders.”

“But Hendery, what about the elderly man from this morning? Or the middle aged homeless person from the afternoon? Or how about the young girl from the bus stop?” 

“Stop it, Hyde!”

“Hendery...it’s time for you to go to sleep.”

“No! No!! Don’t do this again!”

But Hyde takes over once more, following Ten as he walks back to the museum.

———

[The Next Day]

You wake up late in the afternoon and turn the TV on for the news. Your dad already left for work so it’s just you in the house.

“Breaking News, it was discovered this morning, a writer from The Chronicles has gone missing. He goes by the name Ten and his vehicle was found with the key in its ignition and the front door open. Ten was last seen at the opening for the new art museum on 45th street.. If you have any information on Ten’s whereabouts, please contact the police at 555-5127.”

Your mouth fell open. The friendly gentleman that you met the night before had gone missing. You instantly felt guilty as you realized that he dropped you home and put his life in danger for it.

Then, your doorbell rang.

You looked through the peephole and saw Hendery.

You bit your bottom lip and sighed. You had been avoiding him since he ditched you, but you should’ve known he would visit you sooner or later when he knew your dad wasn’t home.

You opened the door.

“Hi.” You said with tight lips.

Hendery looked at you with pleading eyes that almost broke your hard exterior. His hair was wavy and hung in his forehead. His eyes looked tired and his face looked drained, but he still looked handsome to you.

“Baby..I’m so sorry, can I come in?”

You widened the door. “Yeah..I guess..”

Hendery brought in a large bouquet of flowers in one hand and a large gift bag in the other hand.

You sat down on the couch and turned off the TV.

“Okay, baby, listen, I’ve been at the lab a lot lately, I haven’t had enough sleep and I..I decided to take a nap like an idiot. I overslept and missed our date, I’m so so sorry, please baby, I didn’t do it on purpose.” He says in one breath as he drops the bag down and gets on his knees in front of you.

Your eyes widen. “Okay! Okay, you don’t have to do that..”

“Do you forgive me?” Hendery’s eyes are round and watery.

You caress the side of his face with your hand while he looks up at you like you’re the messiah. “Hendery..we should talk, maybe you should take a break from the lab..you look tired.”

Hendery melts in your hand as he closes his eyes. “Sweetheart..I love your touch..”

“You’re stressing yourself out, maybe it’s time for a vacation.” You continue.

He places his hand over yours and brings it to his lips. He kisses it softly.

“I’m fine, baby. I promise.” His voice is gravelly and makes you weak.

You sigh. “Sit beside me…”

Hendery smirks, he’s able to change the topic so effortlessly once he hypnotizes you with his eyes and touch. “Why?”

You lick your lips. “Are you really teasing me right now? After what you did last night?”

Hendery chuckles and gets up onto the couch beside you. You take his face in between your hands and kiss him deeply. You both grow hot and kiss each other with more passion as you struggle to breathe steadily, your tongue brushing over his and his teeth nipping onto your bottom lip.

He pulls away abruptly. “Wait..there’s something I have to show you.”

You watch him reach into the gift bag and pull out a large box. He hands it to you and grins. “Open it, sweetheart.”

“What’s this?” You lift the sides carefully and open the top. You then see that it’s a beautiful dress, but not just any dress. As you hold it above your head to let it fall loose from the box, you see that it’s the black Gucci dress that you told him you loved. It was long sleeve but slit down the center with a plunging neckline. 

You gasped. “For me?”

Hendery nodded when he saw your face light up.

“Oh my god! Hendery!” You turned to him with your mouth still agape.

He nodded. “You’re gonna look great in it, baby, but there’s something else..” he reaches into the bag and pulls out a small ring box.

“Hendery..”

He opens the box and shows you a dazzling emerald cut sapphire colored ring.

Your eyes widen even more. “Oh—oh my god!”

You fling your arms around him and hug him tightly.

He laughs as you freak out over your gifts and holds you to his chest. The two of you fall onto the couch and continue to make out.

“I love it, baby, thank you.” You say before kissing his neck.

He feels a chill run through his body as you lay on top of him. “It’s a promise ring, I promise to protect you and love you for as long as I live.”

You felt your legs weaken by his words.

“Hendery..I love you..” you kiss his collarbone.

Neither of you felt that it was early, for there was an undeniable connection that you had to each other. You couldn’t imagine yourselves with anyone else.

You sucked his skin in between your teeth and listened to him moan, the purplish marks you gave him standing bright and clear as the sunny day outside. 

You then pulled the band of his sweatpants down to reveal his hard member and licked the tip leaking with pre cum already.

You forgot about everything as the two of you made love. You only felt him, his love, his embrace, his caring nature. You loved it all and yearned for him to be with you forever.

———

[New Year’s Eve]

Things had calmed down a bit since that day. Hendery started looking and feeling better as his lab received more than enough money to continue research and development projects.

You also noticed that the rate of people going missing each week had gone down significantly, as if the culprit was taking a break for the holidays.

You felt happier now that Hendery and your father were both happier. Things felt right when you had Hendery by your side for Thanksgiving dinner and for the entire day of Christmas. And now, you could ring in the new year together. You hoped that your future would remain as bright as these past few days had been.

Hendery bought you so many gifts for Christmas, you had to leave some of them in his place. But you didn’t mind it, as it gave you an excuse to stay over some nights. Surprisingly, your dad was okay with that.

Your dad lifted curfew for the holidays, meaning you and Hendery could go to the movies or ice skating whenever you had the chance. You also got to make out by the giant Christmas tree by city hall and snap a few pictures together.

And when the nights were cold, Hendery wrapped you in his arms and kept you warm. He’d whisper sweet words into your ear and wait for you to drift into sleep.

He was taking double the amount of his “medication” to hold Mr. Hyde back. He was able to create more of it with your father’s generous donation that allowed him to buy the chemicals necessary. But he couldn’t ignore the fact that a part of him missed Mr. Hyde, for he felt more..confident with him around.

Nonetheless, Hendery spun you around on the ballroom floor as you danced.

The city was having a countdown special at a mansion owned by Johnny, the owner of the popular greenhouse conservatory on the outskirts.

His place was beautiful and you found yourself in awe at all of the art on the walls.

“I didn’t know you could dance.” You looked impressed by his dancing skills.

Hendery blushed. “I didn’t know I could either, but I may have watched a YouTube video or two to prepare for this..” he gave you a wink.

“Ohh..I see.” You laughed out as Hendery watched your beautiful smile. You looked stunning in the dress he bought you. Your neck and cleavage looked wonderful and oh so tempting. Your makeup was also done well, even though he thought you were gorgeous without it.

Hendery looked dapper in his suit and smoothed back hair. His hand on your waist and the way he looked into your eyes as you danced close made you tremble.

Hendery couldn’t keep his eyes from drifting down to your chest. He breathed heavily and the beast inside him dared to crawl out at any moment.

He was struggling to hold him back, but your silky, revealing dress has their thoughts running wild. He’s growing impatient. Sooner or later, Mr. Hyde will take over if Hendery doesn’t hold him back.

Hendery clears his throat and lets go of your hand. “Excuse me, I have to go to the restroom..”

A look of concern crosses your face but you nod and watch him scurry to the bathroom.

In the meantime, you watch your father speak to the elites a few feet away. You take a sip of your drink and look to the other direction.

A lady walks over to you suddenly.

“Hello! You must be the mayor’s beautiful daughter! How are you?” The woman asked enthusiastically.

You gave a smile that your dad would’ve been proud of and shook her hand.

“Yes! I am his daughter and thank you so much, I’m flattered.” You chuckled.

She nods. “You look amazing, but I couldn’t help but notice the ring on your finger.”

She points to the ring on your hand that is holding the glass.

“Oh.. what about it?”

“It’s just...I could’ve sworn I saw it on TV or something..” she puts a finger to her chin.

You shrugged your shoulders. 

“Ahh! Yes! That’s where I saw it, on the news I think, it was missing from a jewelry store! I think it’s worth about 50 grand!”

“What are you talking about?” Hendery pops up behind her.

He walks beside you and takes your hand in his. “Are you really trying to harass the Mayor’s daughter by accusing her of stealing a ring?”

The woman shook her head. “I am so sorry, you guys have a good night.” She walks away.

You turn to Hendery. “What was that?”

Hendery’s face relaxes when he looks back at you.

“I don’t know, but let’s dance.”

You dance for a few more minutes. Hendery starts to sweat and pull your body closer to his, he licks his lips as he watches your eyes fall low.

“Baby, I’m so sorry but I can’t take it anymore.” He takes your hand and leads you to the bathroom upstairs where things are a little quieter.

You stumble into the bathroom while kissing. Hendery fidgets his hand behind him and eventually finds the lock. He also flips the light switch.

He wraps an arm around you, picking you up and placing you to sit on the counter.

You continue to kiss him but Hendery is impatient.

He lifts his mouth from yours and yanks down the fabric of your dress to reveal your hard nipples.

“Fuck..this is what I’ve been dying to see all night.” He latches his mouth onto your nipple, sucking hard as you hold your body up with your hands behind your back.

Your head falls back as his tongue lays flat against the hard nub then circles around it.

“Ahh..Hendery, that feels so good.”

He looks up at you through dark eyes then bites you.

You yelp and look down. 

“It’s ‘daddy’ to you.” His voice is grumbly and deep.

You nod. “Daddy, give me more please.” You look up, dewy-eyed.

Hendery sucks and pumps harder. His touch is aggressive, but you don’t want him to stop. Just as long as he was touching you.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, I could just watch you all night.” He whispers into your chest then flicks his tongue over your breast again.

He pulls the other side down now, your breast popping out like it was begging to be released from its restrictive cloth covering.

You sat there on the counter, choking back moans and tightening your legs together as he continued to suck your breasts dry.

“Daddy..please..I need you..need you in me.”

Hendery squeezes your breast harder as you squeal.

“Stand up.” He demands while walking back to a stool in the bathroom and taking his jacket off.

He sits down onto it and pats his thigh. “Show me how you’ll ride my cock.”

You walk over to him and part your legs before sitting down and facing him.

He glared at you sternly, no trace of love rests in his gaze as he watches you like a hungry animal.

“No underwear.” He clicks his tongue when he feels your bare pussy resting on his clothed thigh.

You shake your head.

“What a whore you are, I can’t wait to do whatever I want with you.”

You bite your lip and start to move back and forth, you feel your clit begin to gain satisfaction.

You press down harder and hold onto his shoulder while grinding onto his thigh.

Your chest feels weak. You feel so good as friction comforts that one spot.

“Does it feel good?” He whispers with a straight face.

“Y-yes, daddy, so good.”

“Then stand up.”

Your face contorts in confusion.

“Be a good girl and stand up.”

You reluctantly leave his thigh and stand up.

He grabs your hip with one hand and looks up at you through his lashes. He reaches under your dress with his other hand and delivers a short, sharp slap to your dripping folds.

“Ah!” You cry out, but you don’t dare move.

He runs his hand over it now, caressing it to soothe the pain.

Your breath hitches in your throat.

“Mmmm so wet, sweetheart.” He licks his lips and delivers another blow.

You would’ve fallen forward had he not been holding you with his other hand.

“You’ve been tempting me all night with this slutty dress, did you think you would escape punishment?” He growls.

And slap after slap you felt your skin getting warm, but your wetness never failing to coat his fingers.

“Please..fuck me.” You exhale after he slaps you.

“Get on your knees.” 

You get on your knees and move to a position where you can suck his cock, but he shakes his head. 

“No no no..on all fours.”

The cold tile aggravates your knees but you ignore it and focus more on the aching in between your legs.

Hendery gets on the floor behind you and flips up the bottom half of your dress so it bunches up by your waist.

He places his hands onto your breasts while grinding his bulge against your ass.

“Fuck..daddy, please.”

He watches you fidget below him, your essence coating his dress pants as you lay there and take him just like that.

Your pussy quivers each time his bulge just barely presses onto it.

You breathe heavily and moan.

“Do you think you can take me, sweetheart?” You hear him zip his pants down. A sense of relief floods your body.

“Yes.”

“Without taking my fingers first?”

“Yes, daddy.”

You can feel his tip hit your thigh. You move backwards and closer to him, just to feel him closer to you, anything to feel him.

“No, no stay still.”

He slides a condom on and watches your ass perk up in the air in anticipation. Your beautiful folds drip before him.

You gasp as he runs his tip in between them to coat it with your slick.

He smirks and grabs your waist while burying into hard and deep.

Your body falls onto the tile, you cry out loudly from the pain of him suddenly stretching you out but he wraps an arm under you and picks you up.

“I said, stay still!” He grumbles out again but his tone is harsher, darker.

Your arms shake as you hold your body up and attempt to adjust to his length.

He was both wide and long, tears escaped your eyes as he slid into your tight opening.

“So..fucking tight..especially for a whore like you.”

You bite your lips to hold back an embarrassingly loud moan.

He slides in and out quicker and pulls your head back by grabbing your hair. “Why are you crying? Is it too big for you?”

He thrusts hard, making your ass cheeks shake against his hips and your mouth fall open. He was never this rough with you, you wondered why he sounded different.

He was also bigger than usual, you thought.

“Mmmm..n-no.”

He thrusts hard again, nestling himself deep within your walls and pushing against your insides.

He then pulls out completely before giving your ass a harsh slap. You fall onto the floor and cry out.

“No, what?!”

“No, daddy!”

He flips you over onto your back just so he can see your teary face and lips swollen from you biting them.

He licks his lips and goes back to sucking your breasts like he did before, only this time, his cock is passing against your silky walls.

You feel every ridge, every vein, every twitch. 

Curse words leave your mouth as you are brought closer and closer to the edge.

He placed his hands on either side of your head and fucks into you from above while watching your breasts move with each thrust. His nails dig into your knees as he pushes them further apart, watching his long cock glide into your small opening like magic. The way you open up for him drives him crazy.

You’re so wet, he slips in and out with ease. 

“Should I let you cum?”

“Yes, daddy, please.” You licked your lips and watched the handsome man above you. He had loosened a few buttons but his hair, now free and wavy, dangled over your face.

He takes your hard nipples in between his fingers and pinches them. You arch your back and moan.

This all felt so wrong but so right. Him fucking you hard and into the new year on the bathroom floor while your father was just down stairs a few feet away. 

You came instantly, your body trembling as it clenched around him. Your eyes shut tightly, Hendery watched your jaw clenched and grabbed your chin.

“I didn’t tell you to cum, now I’ll have to go harder.” He growled out.

He fucked you hard, your back rubbing against the tile as he didn’t let up on his unforgiving thrusts.

“Too-too much, daddy.” You cried out as tears escaped your eyes again.

“That’s too fucking bad, you came without permission, so now you’re gonna take it,” he thrusted particularly hard with an emphasis on “take it.”

You moaned loudly and squirmed under him, but he held you still, his fingertips digging into your waist. You panted and cried as a burning feeling shot through your skin..

Hendery fucked you like some kind of animal with a crazy sex drive, placing your legs onto his shoulders and ripping some fabric from your expensive dress.

“Hendery! What the-“

“Shhh!! I want to see my cock fill you up, sweetheart. Want to see my little whore take all of me in.”

A smile creeped across his face.

You got up on your elbows and saw that his girthy penis really was poking through your stomach slightly.

“Fuck..so fucking good, daddy.”

Your hips started to hurt from your legs being open and spread out for so long, but Hendery didn’t care, you were all his tonight, and he was going to make sure you remembered that.

“Who were you walking home with after you left the art museum?”

Your brows furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

Why would he bring up something from a few months ago?

“The guy..I saw him take you home..what’s his name?”

He rubs your clit, making you disoriented.

“I don't know Hendery, I went home by myself that night.”

“Oh, don’t fucking lie to me, whore.” He places his hand around your throat and squeezes it.

You clench uncontrollably as your clit feels amazing with his thumb on it.

Hendery cums as you tighten around him unexpectedly. You release as well, his hand tightens even more around your throat. You see stars and shake. Your body feels weak, but Hendery doesn’t pull out or let your throat go.

He leans downward and kisses your lips.

He looks wild and different, his eyes are more intense with a red glow around them that you hadn’t seen before. He has purple and green veins bursting out from his forehead and neck also.

He chokes you while staring into your eyes and as you come down from your high, you notice that something is wrong.

He pulls his limp member out but lets it lay on your stomach.

“Tell me his fucking name!”

Your eyes grow. “Who are you talking about?!” You manage to utter out while slowly losing breath.

He lays a sloppy kiss onto your lips again then pulls away. “Do you want to know what Ten’s last words were?”

You grasped his shoulders. “Hendery, this isn’t funny.”

“Oh, but it is, sweetheart..you should’ve seen the look of terror on his face when I held the knife above his head.”

Your mouth fell open, greeting Hendery’s as he laid another kiss. You struggled to push him off of you, so you bit his lip and crawled away from him.

Hendery kneeled on the ground and held his lip. A low chuckle escapes and it’s one that is horrifying.

“But baby, we were having so much fun, why did you do that?”

“Because you’re not funny! I’m leaving!” You stumble to your feet and fix your dress over your breasts.

You rush to the door but Hendery blocks it. You cower in fear. He doesn’t look like himself at all, he looks like some kind of monster with a wild look.

“Hendery? What’s wrong with you?”

“Hendery’s not here anymore.” The deep voice laughs out.

“Let me go.” You begin to tremble.

“Hendery had his fun, I think I deserve to have fun too.”

You were so confused as this monster takes Hendery over, but you quickly devise a plan.

You grab the soap dispenser behind you and quickly hit him in the head. He snarls out in pain but you have just enough time to push past him and out of the door.

You rush down the stairs and call out for help, but then you notice that the fireworks are going off. People are laughing and sharing drinks on the rooftop together.

You turn to head back up the stairs and to the rooftop to get help, but Hendery is already making his way down with an angry look on his face.

No one is in the mansion but you..and him.

You run out of the mansion as fast as you can, hoping that you can find anyone that could help you.

You felt pain in your hips from being stretched out but you ignored it. You were terrified as you heard him bolting after you with superhuman speed.

“Help!! Help me!!” You cried out but the streets were empty, everyone was celebrating the new year as beautiful and loud fireworks lit up the sky.

You continue to run and breathe heavily, you finally create a safe distance between yourself and him so you lean against the back of a wall and wait for him to pass.

He slows down when he no longer sees you..

“Sweetheart..it’s just me and you, now. Don’t worry about him!” Hendery’s normal voice calls out.

You tremble and cry in fear, but cover your mouth as he gets closer.

“What are you talking about? I’m still here, where is the little whore?” A darker voice says.

“She’s smart, we won’t find her.” The first voice says.

You’re confused, it’s as if two people are talking to each other, but it’s just Hendery.

“I can smell her..” the darker voice says.

“No!! No!! Leave her alone!” Hendery fights himself in the street alone, he goes crazy  while yelling and throwing himself around.

“But she’s mine!”

“Mr. Hyde..please just leave me alone..” Hendery falls to his knees and sobs in the middle of the street.

“I live inside you forever, Hendery, with Satan himself by my side.”

“No!!”

And then you only hear silence.

You peak out to see if he has left but to your surprise. He’s right there beside you, his crazy eyes glaring as he smiles.

“Found ya!”

You scream and run away and into the yard of a random house, you stumble into the shed and look around for anything you can use to protect yourself.

A bat.

You take the bat and walk around the yard. 

You see Hendery walking around the house. You take in a sharp breath then run up to him fast and swing as hard as you can.

His body falls to floor limply.

You drop the bat and cover your mouth, screaming once more as you look on the body of your strange lover.

———-

[1 Month Later]

You’re starting the spring semester at college, physically. You and your father both agreed that after what happened, it would be best for you to spend some time away.

You told your father about what had happened that night the next day. He told you that Hendery had threatened him and you both came to the conclusion that Hendery was suffering from some sort of psychological disorder. One that would allow him to kidnap and murder people.

Some missing people were found in the lab’s crematory room, but evidence showed that most victims were cremated. This amount of cremation filled the air with harmful toxins, the very same toxins that Hendery’s lab was responsible for getting rid of.

It was ironic, but now your father was happy that the killer was identified.

People no longer went missing.

All cases were closed.

Except for one, however.

Hendery’s body was never found.

[whump-a-la-mode]

Villainsicle | Part 13

I know it’s been a while, and if I’m being completely honest, I really ran out of steam on this story for a while. But, we’re back! If you’re new to my blog and are interested in this story, all of the parts up to this one can be found linked in my pinned info post.

Thank you guys so much for all your support of this series so far! I hope you enjoy this part, too!

Taglist:

@whatwhumpcomments

@sola-whumping

@professional-idiocy

@trappedgoose-in-a-writblr-room

@literally-just-kirby​

@the-polari-person

@teachunks

@daydreamed-snippets-2nd-blog

@sunflower1000

@lightdrinker-blog

@regalwritten

CW//Mentions of bathing, restraints, drugs, dehumanization, conspiracies, collars, talk of diseases, talk of falling, Stockholm syndrome, affectionate caretaker, conditioned whumpee

After their bath, Villain rested.

It wasn’t exactly how Counselor had imagined the whole affair going. Villain had already spent so many days resting, laid up in that same bed, but once they were clean and settled into fresh clothes, they had requested nothing except to be able to return to sleep.

They supposed it wasn’t entirely unexpected. While the bath hadn’t exactly been physically exerting, there had been several instances during it that Villain had nearly burst out in tears. Whatever was going through their mind, it was undeniably intense-- and that wasn’t even mentioning the heavy dose of sedatives coursing through their system.

And, thus, Villain slept. They were unconscious almost immediately upon hitting the mattress.

This time, however, there was no nervous twitching to accompany their unconsciousness. Instead, for the first time, their face showed a perfectly placid expression.

Taking care not to wake the sleeping patient, Counselor draped a fleece blanket overtop of them, tucking its edges in around their shoulders. They twitched, but did not awake. A moment later, they buried their face in the fabric.

Counselor had never before imagined that Villain was even capable of existing in such a calm state. Yet, here they were, looking for all the world as though not even an earthquake could wake them up.

Their gaze flicked to the bedrails. Upon returning to their bed, Villain had not so much as seemed to note the leather-and-foam restraints hanging there.

Yet, Counselor could not draw their gaze away from them.

Villain had been staying in the base for weeks, phasing through various states of aggression and fear and sickness and, on rare occasions, hesitant happiness. But, even after all that time, no one truly knew anything about them.

At least, Counselor knew nothing about them. Based on the way Leader and Medic’s expressions twisted when the prisoner was mentioned, it was clear that the both of them knew more than they were letting on-- but neither was keen to admit as to such.

Maybe Hero had had more luck on this information gathering mission.

But how much information was there really to gather? Officially, Villain had simply appeared on stage a few months ago, alongside two unknowns. More or less, they had acted just as any other villain did.

The other villains, however, had motives. Backstories. They were following orders.

Villain... If anyone on the outside cared about them, they had yet to risk any sort of jailbreak.

There was more to this than the official story, Counselor knew that full well. How much more... as to that, they had no idea.

But they had no need to rely on second hand accounts and official reports to know what Villain was. That much was obvious. They were a villain. Whatever their backstory, whatever their past, they were dangerous.

Right?

Counselor’s gaze drifted back to those restraints. Those simple straps, dangling from a metal bedframe.

At some point, Villain may have been dangerous. But not right now. Right now, they needed help, and that was exactly what Counselor was going to give them.

And, if they wanted that plan to go anywhere, they would have to start with the doctor who harmed their own patient.

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This time, when Medic answered the knocking on their door, their glasses were on the right way around. They blinked a few times, rubbing their eyes, hardly noting as the piping hot cup of coffee was pushed into their hands.

The doctor glanced down at the beverage before looking back up to meet their visitor’s gaze.

“I thought you wanted me to sleep.”

“Well, that was before. For now, we need to talk.”

“If this is decaf again, I swear I’m going to strangle you.”

“It’s not. Though the same threat applies to you if you try to go back to the med bay.”

“I’m a doctor. In fact, I’m our only doctor.”

“I’m a doctor, too.”

“Psychology doesn’t count.”

“Fair enough.”

“If we’re done threatening each other, then, would you care to, I don’t know, tell me why you’re bothering me?”

“As I said, we need to talk.”

“Do I even need to ask what about?”

“I think you already know that. Come on. You have your coffee, so there’s no excuses.”

“You really think I’m going to be that penitent about this?”

“Maybe.”

Medic rolled their eyes, but did not protest any further as Counselor turned and walked off. The two moved to a rather isolated table, tucked away in the corner of a hallway. The cafeteria was far too crowded at the moment to host such a discussion.

On opposite sides of the table, the opposites sat. Two cups of coffee clinked down on the wooden surface.

Counselor took a sip of their drink, placing the cup back down and raising their gaze. Medic frowned, lips turning downwards even further than usual.

“What, are we planning on talking through telepathy or- Come on, Counselor, stop looking at me like that. I hate that.”

“Then are you going to say anything?”

“I can’t read your mind.”

“You said you knew what this was about.”

“Maybe.” Medic shrugged dismissively. The doctor had been horribly standoffish, ever since Villain had been captured. “Doesn’t mean I’m going to start trying to guess your thoughts.”

Counselor took another sip.

“Fine, then. I can start.” Sip. Clink. “Villain told me something very interesting, earlier.”

“You really believe them?”

“I haven’t even said it yet.”

“Then stop wasting time, maybe.”

“Villain says that you’re making them sick.”

Medic’s brows furrowed.

“That’s what they said?”

“Pretty much verbatim, yes.”

“Well.” Medic took a hesitant drink of their coffee. “I don’t know why you’re even wasting your time on a notion like that. What they are is paranoid. I don’t doubt that they think I’m making them sick. Doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“You’re saying that your patient is lying.”

“Maybe not lying. That would imply that they know what they’re saying is not true. They are sick, I will not deny that. And they are not responding to treatment. I can’t say that anything I’ve tried so far has made it any better, but it certainly hasn’t made it worse.”

“Why would they believe such a thing without reason?”

Medic exhaled.

“Because, in Villain’s mind, they do have reason. They have a child’s understanding of medicine. They are sick, and they are under my care and taking my medicines, and thus, in their mind, one of these things has caused the other.”

Counselor cast their gaze downwards, focusing on the way their milk danced its way through the black beverage before them. It was a reasonable explanation. Maybe. They may not have trusted Medic, but they trusted Medic’s abilities as a doctor.

Could Villain really be wrong?

“If they’re wrong...” Counselor began again. “Then what is making them sick? Their incident with hypothermia was weeks ago, now. It can’t still be that?”

“I doubt the two are connected. If this was all a matter of post-hypothermic reactions, then we wouldn’t be seeing these kinds of symptoms.”

“What is it, then?”

Medic bit their bottom lip.

“That’s the problem. I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? They’ve been in your care for... well over a week, now.”

“You think I don’t know that? If you haven’t noticed, I’m the world’s leading expert on Enhanced biology. Not to mention, y’know, an experienced doctor for normal humans. Whatever this is, it’s not a normal sickness. I’ve done every test I can think of.”

“And... it’s getting worse, isn’t it?”

“Not as badly as you might be fearing. Their weakness is worsening, yes, as is their general mental state. But their vitals are fine. They’re not in serious danger of anything, so long as they don’t hurt themself.”

“You think they’d do that?”

“Given just how bad their confusion has been getting? I’m already putting preventative measures in place.”

“Oh.”

Medic raised a brow.

“You thought I restrained them for no reason? I’m not Leader. There are medical regulations about this sort of thing.”

“They’ve been hurting themself?”

“Not what you may be thinking of. But with how bad their weakness has grown, they can’t exactly stand up without aid, at the current moment. Forget walking. Unfortunately, they don’t seem to have realized this.”

“They’ve fallen?”

“A few times, yes. If that is all, I was really just starting to enjoy my day off, so-”

“Wait.” Counselor shook their head. “People don’t get sick for no reason.”

“Congrats, you know a basic medical fact.”

“You know what I mean. You’re the smartest person I know. You must have, I don’t know, a theory? A hypothesis? Anything?”

Medic blinked, placing down their cup.

“I do. Though right now, I have no way of proving it.”

“What is it?”

“Villain has what we call... psionic powers. Powers that affect only a person’s brain, but not their physical body. It’s the rarest type of power, oftentimes because something you can’t see is often something you can’t detect. Thus, this group of powers is poorly understood, to say the least. But I’m sure you know what power fatigue looks like for other Enhanced.”

“Like when Hero broke their leg?” Counselor guessed.

“Yes. The simple act of overexerting ones powers, even without outside injury, can cause physical injuries like that to develop.”

“You think Villain’s having power fatigue?”

“It’s my best guess. It would check all the boxes. An undetectable illness affecting the brain, but nothing else. A never before seen condition.”

“But... is it something you can cure?”

“I can’t cure tiredness.” Medic shook their head. “That’s really not how it works. I can do my best to counteract the symptoms, but so long as the source is still there, I’d be fighting uphill.”

“Then what can you do?”

“I can remove the source.” The tiniest smirk crept onto the doctor’s countenance. “Power fatigue is caused not by using ones powers, but using them in a way that the body cannot handle. At least, as far as we can tell. If Villain can control their powers enough, their symptoms should go away.”

“You really think so?”

“I hesitate to guarantee anything. Not with how poorly understood the condition is.” That smirk fell, replaced by Medic’s resting expression of annoyance. “But training them to use their powers properly is the only way I can see them getting any better.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. I’m also sure that I would really like to go back to my quarters. If you’re done bothering me?”

Counselor bit their tongue.

“Fine.”

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Counselor had momentarily considered returning to their own quarters, but had quickly decided against it, instead turning to the kitchen. They had yet to eat that morning, as had Villain. They figured that a warm meal might help them shake off the sedatives.

And, maybe, some food would make Counselor’s own stomach stop twisting.

They only made it halfway to the kitchen, however, when in the hallway, they nearly slammed into Hero. The two both yelped, and a slosh of Counselor’s coffee slopped to the floor.

“Shit, sorry, are you okay?” Hero asked. There was considerable nerve in their voice.

Counselor nodded. “You just started me, ‘s all.” They glanced down at the spilling coffee now sitting on the tile floor. “I’ll, uh, get that later. I was just heading to the kitchen.”

“Oh. Um, could it wait?”

“I need to bring Villain something to eat.”

“Can it wait?”

“What-”

Counselor’s gaze drifted to Hero’s twitching hand.

“You have something?”

“Mhm. I don’t think it’s going to take very long.”

“Can I see?”

“Not here. Not with everyone else around.”

Counselor raised their brows quizzically, but nodded.

“To your quarters, then?”

“I guess that’s as good of a place as any.”

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As soon as Counselor was out of sight, Medic changed their trajectory.

The musty air that filled their lab acted on them like a drug, sending a calm shiver down their spine. If they had the day off (or if they were being forced to take it off), there was no way they were going to spend that precious little free time moping in their quarters. Not when they could be here.

They sat, the memory foam of their desk chair still molded to their form. The laptop before them booted up with a familiar chirp and bright pink screensaver, written upon in white text:

“Property of Organization. Unauthorized Use Is Unlawful.” 

The grainy selection of videos blinked before them, and they selected the next one in the series. Even if they didn’t have access to their Asset at the current moment, they could at the very least work ahead.

The screen fizzled to life in all its low-definition glory, displaying a familiar room, its walls plastered with protective black rubber, and its tile floor made of the same material.

The presenter wore a bandage on their face, covering the side of their jaw. The gauze warped as they smiled, but they seemed to make no note of it.

Beside them, the presenter’s own Asset stood. The muzzle around their face had been modified, its metal warped as to compress its wearer’s jaw, to the point that even breathing was an impossibility.

Extreme, perhaps, but based on the Asset’s behavior, it was warranted.

Though their movements were weak and unbalanced, they were persistent, not ceasing yanking against their leash for the slightest moment. This time, unlike before, the presenter seemed to be paying attention to them, though they did not seem worried.

“It has been some time since we last spoke.” They began. “I apologize for the delay, but, hopefully, it will not happen again. After all, training our Assets is a full time job.”

A smile. Cheerful, stretching their cheeks.

“Unfortunately, I must report that the recent delay we experienced was as a result of my own Asset lashing out. This was unfortunate, but it made me realize that there is a flaw in my training methods. A flaw I seek to instruct you, today, on how to remedy.

One advantage we trainers have is that we have 24/7 access to our Assets. As we take care of them, we can choose to meet their needs in whatever way we see fit.

Deprivation has always been a part of Asset training, since we pioneered our methods. But it was something I, unfortunately and unwisely, neglected. And I have done you all a disservice by not mentioning it to you.

In order for training to truly take effect, there must be room in an Asset’s mind for it to fit. A reason for them to follow. Fear, certainly, is this reason, but there are other aspects to control.

Following my Asset’s incident, we have been working using these methods of deprivation. Depriving your Asset of things such as nutrients, water, and sleep can significantly speed up and solidify your training. In this lesson, we will go over this, and how it can help you improve your training methods.”

The presenter’s smile was matched by their Asset’s wicked snarl. From the corners of their mouth, licks of flame emerged, just for the slightest moment.

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Hero handled the flash drive as though it were a bomb.

Perhaps it was, if the writing on the device was at all to be believed. Scrawled on in sharpie, a hastily written yet well received warning.

“Property of Organization. Unauthorized Use Is Unlawful.” 

As if Organization cared about the law.

Hero seated themself in their office chair, leaving Counselor to sit a few feet back, on their bed. They almost flinched, plugging the flashdrive into their laptop.

For a moment, the computer hummed, before it reported chipperly that new files had been added.

“Uh, Hero?”

“Yeah?”

“Where did you get this thing?”

“Leader gave it to me.”

“Did they say what it was.”

Hero shook their head. “That’s what we’re about to find out.”

Still moving terribly nervously, Hero opened the folder that the computer had created for these ‘new files.’

“It’s... videos.”

“Videos?”

“A couple of them, yeah.”

“Should we... play them?”

“I don’t- I don’t know. I mean, if Organization is involved, I’m not sure I want to know what’s on them.”

“It could help Villain.”

Hero sighed, dipping their head.

“I hate when you’re right.”

With deft fingers, they selected the first video.

It had been so long, since any of them had seen Traitor. More than that, it had been so long since any of them had seen Traitor smile.

And yet, that was what they were doing. Grinning, ear to ear, eyes locked upon the camera.

“Hello, everyone, and welcome to the second edition of the Asset Training Video Course. If you are confused, the first edition of this series was, unfortunately, cut short due to... an incident. We will all miss our last presenter, but that does not mean that our duties can be shirked.”

Traitor turned, looking offscreen, calling:

“Veni huc.”

The language the words were in was clearly not English, but the person who moved on-screen did not seem concerned by that fact.

Villain smiled as well, though their warm gaze had an inquisitive quality to it as they regarded the camera. A chain-link collar was arranged about their neck, but it was attached to nothing, and seemed to more or less hang limply.

“For this series, I will be demonstrating all you need to know about Asset training. This, here, is my own Asset, Cadet. As you can tell, they are very well trained, if I do say so myself. They will be helping me show you how to train your own assigned Asset.”

Traitor’s hand reached for Villain, who did not flinch a moment. Their hand ruffled Villain’s hair affectionately.

Villain smiled, and leaned into the touch.

[fictionplumis]

A Lambert/Aiden Thing

Okay, bear with me here, this might be long. And maybe at one point I'm gonna try to RP this but unfortunately there's no one on the Lambert/Aiden RP tags on the site I use. So I'm just gonna put this here for now. And if anyone wants to, oh I don't know, write a fic or whatever based on this, PLEASE link me 'cause I wanna read it but anyway. 

Set after the Wild Hunt, one of those rare AUs where Aiden genuinely did not survive.

While traveling together as super cool witchers, Geralt ends up telling Ciri all about helping Lambert get revenge for his Cat friend, right? 

Time passes, and Ciri starts trying to really solidify her control with her ability. Geralt ends up spending more and more time at Corvo Bianco and Ciri is out on the Path, but every so often a girl needs a break, y'know? So sometimes she'll disappear for a couple days, maybe a few weeks, just off in another world. It's a good way to practice. 

In one world, she ends up running into this man named Aiden. (This world being our world. Not a modern Continent thing, not some point in the future, I mean OUR world.) They talk, and he ends up mentioning his roommate Lambert, and the more he says about Lambert, the more it becomes obvious that it's LAMBERT. 

Now Ciri has absolutely no intention of doing anything about this. It's not her place, telling Lambert would be an AWFUL idea, and going to meet that world's version of her uncle just seems like a bad idea. But she is curious about what kind of man can inspire such a strong sense of friendship in Lambert, so she decides to pop into that world every so often, "accidentally" find Aiden, and just kind of get to know him a little bit. Plus it's another way to practice her abilities, not just pin-pointing and traveling to a specific world, but to where a specific person is. 

She does that on and off a few times, enough where her and Aiden are sort of acquaintances. 

Now in this world Aiden isn't a saint, okay? This boy pretty much grew up on the streets. He has a past that he's trying to get away from. He knows his way around a knife fight, has ample experience running from the cops, and has been through so much therapy. (I don’t get into detail here but any kind of modern Aiden I usually have some kind of neurotypical. Might be something as simple as ADHD, though I do love bipolar!Aiden and psychotic!Aiden as well. I’d imagine at this point he’s good at managing it, with the help of therapy and medication. Now the therapy wouldn’t be all that accessible with where this is going, but Ciri could help him make sure he has his medications. Hell, if wanted to have him keep things consistent with his therapy too, he could move down to appointments maybe once a month and Ciri could make sure he could get to them, the same way she helps attain other things later on in this snippet. I absolutely support positive and accurate depictions of mental illness, I’m not just using the terms bipolar or psychotic lightly.) And unfortunately his past ends up catching up with him. 

Ciri happens to get there just in time. Before Aiden can end up with a bullet in his eye, she's teleporting him to the first safe place that comes to her mind: Corvo Bianca.

Now poor Aiden has no fucking idea what happened. One second his old "friends" have him backed into a corner with a gun to his face and the next he's experiencing the worst motion sickness of his life and throwing up in a pot that smells like shit. He spends the next two days sleeping off some major jet lag and when he comes to, he had no fucking idea where he is. 

Then comes Geralt and Ciri having to awkwardly explain the whole witcher thing to him, the Continent in general, the time period, the fact that monsters and sorceresses and magic exists in this world, all that happy shit. And it's a lot to process. Before they can even get to the whole "do you want to go back to your world and handle the deal with people trying to kill you thing" Lambert shows up. 

At first Aiden doesn't even think, he's just like oh thank fuck a familiar face, I know you hate hugs but I think this can be forgiven because I've had the weirdest most stressful week of my life.

And then he's like, wait a second. Lambert is... Thicker. 

Like Lambert's always been a very physically active guy, he's a mechanic or whatever you want a modern day Lambert to do, but his shoulders weren't THAT broad before and under those spiky metal arm things are some impressive biceps. Also what are those spiky metal arm things? Lambert, what are you wearing? How the fuck did you get here? Holy shit your eyes--

He puts two and two together. Right, the name Geralt sounded familiar because Lambert's mentioned the name. That's his adopted brother. So if this Geralt is a witcher, then Lambert in this world is a witcher. And Lambert is also having a minor breakdown because, y'know, AIDEN. 

Let's just say Geralt warned him. Explained the whole situation and asked Lambert to come back to help with this, and Lambert was very torn because it's not HIS Aiden. It'll hurt too much, to see someone so much like Aiden but just slightly to the left. He knew it would. He just didn’t expect this Aiden to be SO MUCH like his Aiden. By this point Aiden has had to change his clothes into some of Geralt's trousers with a belt to hold them up and a loose tunic, but it's fucking him. 

They all talk a bit. Aiden pretty much admits that yeah, there are people after him. And they probably won't stop until he's dead. That's how gangs work, y'know? You can't really... Get out. He tried, he really fucking did, but even if it's not the ones that cornered him before, it'll be someone else. So yeah, Ciri saved his life and going back is probably not the best idea. 

Now I absolutely don't want to fuck over another world's Lambert just to make Continent!Lambert happy, so we're gonna say the two were really good friends. They were roommates, they were close, Lambert was pretty much Aiden's only friend, but they weren't lovers. Lambert was with a woman named Keira. A doctor. They were good for each other, y'know? When Lambert first started dating her, Aiden thought she was kind of a bitch but as time went on she kind of mellowed out. It wasn't that she became less full of herself, but more that she actually felt confident enough that she didn't feel the need to try to take on the world anymore. And Lambert's happy with her. So leaving Lambert behind in that world kind of sucks, yeah, but he'll be okay. And this Lambert is so similar that to Aiden, it doesn't feel like he's losing someone. 

Now we have Aiden getting to experience the Continent for the first time. Getting to experience witchers for the first time. 

Lambert. Sword fighting. 

And that's so fucking cool. Can you please teach me that?

Which of course has Lambert a little iffy, because this Aiden is human and no fucking away is he letting this Aiden anywhere near a monster, but Aiden is like, nah, relax, I just want to learn because sword fighting is really cool. Look, I'm really good with a knife, teach me some cool sword stuff. 

So Lambert gets to teach Aiden some cool sword stuff. And how to make bombs, which Aiden LOVES. And maybe some alchemy, too, because Aiden asks about the potions and Lambert is very adamant that he never drinks any but Aiden likes at least knowing how to make them. It's fascinating. You all fucking know you would love to make potions out of gross monster parts and herbs if you had the chance, don't even lie. Lambert even shows off some signs and Aiden is delighted. 

This eventually leads to one of those serious conversations about what it takes to become a witcher, and what all Lambert went through, and how people view witchers. And Aiden gets it, maybe not completely, but he gets the just of it. Because he knows about the other Lambert's past, and his shitty father, and all that stuff. And Aiden's brown, and people don't like that. And he's gay, and people don't like that either. Lambert's whole thing kind of reminds him of the X-men. 

And Lambert doesn't know what the fuck that is so Aiden explains comics and superheroes and the X-men to him. 

Because in his world they don't have witchers or magic, so they make up stories that have people like witchers, that have magic, and in those stories, those people sometimes face very similar prejudices. So to Aiden, Lambert is a lot like a superhero. 

And Lambert's like uh huh, no way, definitely not any kind of hero, that's pretty boy's job. 

To which Aiden responds, no, I definitely think you're a hero, even if you don't, so suck it up. 

And they probably kiss and stuff. 

Eventually Aiden gets restless and he's curious about the rest of the Continent, and he's tired of wearing Geralt's ill-fitting clothes because he's used to skinny jeans and shit so he gets Lambert to take him into Beauclaire for clothes. 

And Beauclaire is fucking beautiful, he loves it. 

The clothes are okay. Eventually he just asks Lambert what he used to wear and they go see the armorer instead. Aiden's not entirely sure about it, because Lambert looks like he's swallowed a mouthful of tacks when he sees Aiden in the Cat armor, even without the chest piece or the gauntlets, but Lambert assures him that he's fine. 

It just doesn't quite ease the restlessness. So the next time Ciri pops in, Aiden asks for her help and together they scheme. The next day, Aiden tells Lambert to go find something to entertain himself with for awhile because he needs to spend some quality time with his BFF. 

A few hours later they find Lambert sulking out in the vineyard, Aiden looking fine and fresh in a brand new pair of skinny jeans that show off his very nice ass, and some well-fitting combat boots that aren't nearly as durable as actual leather boots on the Continent but they have studs and buckles and look really cool.

Lambert is torn between thinking Aiden looks like a fucking idiot and thinking that he's never wanted to fuck Aiden more in his life.

Then Aiden drops the news that he also put together an outfit for Lambert because in his world, when you're interested in courting someone, the first thing you do is take them on a date. And he wants to take Lambert on the most stereotypical first date. What's that? Why the movies, of course! There's an X-men movie that just came out (I don't know which one, okay? I don't watch the X-men. You figure it out.) and he thought, maybe, he could show Lambert a little bit of the world he came from. They wouldn't be there for long, and they wouldn't be going to a theater anywhere near where Aiden's old gang would be. Nothing would be tied to Aiden's name, and he would be with Lambert, so he would be safe. 

It's a big change from the Continent. 

Lambert's never seen so many fucking people in his LIFE. Aiden had warned him about cars and technology and Lambert is pretty quick witted so while he's absolutely amazed, he manages to take it in stride pretty well. The thing that throws him off the most is when they go to buy popcorn and the girl at the counter goes, "Oh my god, I love your contacts! Where did you get them? They look so real!" 

Lambert doesn't know what the fuck contacts are, but Aiden steps in all smooth-like, "Fuck, Lamb, you've had those forever, haven't you? I think he got 'em off some cosplay site." 

Then he has to explain later that sometimes people put these little discs in their eye to help them see better or to change the color of their eyes for costume purposes. To which Lambert has the understandable reaction of, "Who in their right fucking mind would CHOOSE to do this to their fucking eyes?" 

Well, y'know, they can take contacts out whenever they want. It's a cosmetic thing. They don't know what you had to go through to get your eyes to look like that. You'll probably have some old conservative people eyeing you weird, thinking you're some Satanist or whatever, but most other people will just think it's a cool choice you made, to put those in to go to the movies.

The world is weird. Lambert can't decide if he likes it or hates it. 

He definitely likes the movie, though. And the popcorn. Probably finds the soda to be a little too sweet for his taste. There's still a lot of people, which makes him a bit on edge, but they came to the theater at an off time and not many people are actually in the room with them. They sit at the back and hold hands and Lambert decides he loves it. Ciri picks them up like a proud parent driving her kid and her kid's date home, only instead of driving she's teleporting and neither of them are her kids but whatever. 

But Aiden isn't done scheming. When they get back he tells Lambert to stay put and gets Ciri to take him back for one more little errand. 

A couple hours later they clang back into Corvo Bianco. CLANG back because each of them has a weird metal cart piled high with items and they're laughing their asses off. 

So you might be wondering, how did Ciri and Aiden afford clothes? They stole them. How did Aiden afford movie tickets and popcorn? He pick pocketed. Boy grew up on the streets. He knows how to steal wallets. And now they performed the greatest "run out the doors of Walmart with carts full of shit" EVER. Because as soon as they were out of sight, they teleported, no one the wiser. 

Aiden is thrilled with his non-purchases. Firstly, he has about a year's worth of toilet paper. he throws a package at Lambert, who's like, what the fuck is this. Toilet paper. What do you use it for? To wipe your ass after you shit, Lambert. Trust me. Once you use it, you'll never go back. It's a blessing, you'll thank me for it. There might not be indoor plumbing here, but god dammit, I want toilet paper.

He then hands Ciri two boxes of pads. Yeah, she was there shopping with him, but he just kind of dumped stuff in carts without explaining anything, and while Ciri knows what most of the things are, do you really think she's thought about how other worlds deal with menstruation? Because I menstruate, and the thought would genuinely not cross my mind. I would continue using whatever method I used back in my original world. So Aiden leans in to whisper what they are, because he's polite, and he becomes her favorite uncle just like that. And when Geralt and Lambert are like, uh, what? She tells them it's for menstruating and, "Oh, don't make that face at me, Geralt. I bleed, it happens."

Aiden admits that most of the other purchases are for Lambert, and when Lambert tires to protest Aiden makes it very clear that everything he bought is NORMAL in his world. Not even luxury, just NORMAL, so Lambert just needs to shut up and let Aiden make his life a little easier. 

First up, sunglasses. Because Lambert mentioned how painful it can be to take Cat and then step out into sunlight before the potion has run out. He tosses a pair at Lambert, who tries them on with a frown and is like, "Oh. Huh. Alright. These might actually be pretty useful." Aiden got himself a pair too. They match. There's also a tent. It folds up pretty small, but witchers travel, right? And Lambert mentioned how shit it is to camp in the rain, so here's a tent that’s better than the shit you can buy on the Continent. You lay out your bedroll in it, and you don't have to worry about bugs, and it helps protect you against the weather. It's small, but it looks kind of easy to put up, should be durable enough. 

And maybe just big enough for two, because Aiden isn't stupid. Eventually Lambert will need to take to the Path again, and Aiden wants to comes too. He wants to see the Continent. He can't help with the monsters, he knows, but maybe he can do something else to help them earn money. Who knows, right? This world isn't run by capitalism. He could make a living doing nearly anything. He can figure something out. 

He even got a water filter, and a couple filter replacements because witchers can probably drink any kind of stagnant water they want but he would rather not die of dysentery, thanks. And he got himself a sleeping bag. And he got Lambert a very, very soft fleece blanket just because he thought Lambert would like it. (He does.) Oh, also, Lambert, smell this soap. And this shampoo. Using a bar of soap has not done Aiden's hair any favors, he got actual fucking shampoo. The BIG bottle. And now Lambert has some nice pomade to use in his hair instead of bear fat. Won't make his hair greasy plus it smells better. Also there's bubble bath, just because. And beard oil for Lambert. Some moisturizer. Here, Lambert, put on some chap stick. Trust me, you'll love it. 

They set out on the Path and it's not always easy because Aiden worries CONSTANTLY. But Lambert is good at what he does. The few times they're ambushed, Lambert always keeps Aiden safe, because in this household everyone fucking survives. 

Aiden likes seeing Lambert in action. He swoons and calls Lambert his hero. 

There are some stunning places to visit on the Continent. Aiden's favorite are the elven ruins they sometimes come across. Only after Lambert deals with the wraiths, though. 

Aiden learns how to play Gwent. He's not that good at it. Aiden learns how to cheat at Gwent. He's VERY good at it. Lambert teaches him how to fish with bombs. Aiden is fucking delighted. 

Eventually he realizes how he can make money. He copywrites Disney. 

He's no bard. He can't sing or play an instrument. But he CAN tell stories, and no matter how much you hate Disney, there are probably a lot of Disney movies everyone can quote by heart, and they're either already time-period approved, or they can easily be adapted into something time period approved. Lambert comes back from a hunt to find the entire tavern listening to Aiden with rapt attention while he's in the front of the room putting on a one man performance of the whole, "I am Inigo Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die," while jumping back and forth to play each part. He's clearly having a blast with it, because who doesn't love telling other people every little detail about their favorite movie? 

As he's heading upstairs with Lambert, he just keeps raving about how he can't believe he actually made money with that. He hands Lambert a handful of coins, just like, "I don't know how much money this is, but look, it's money!"

Which probably leads to some conversation about capitalism and how easy it was in his world to feel insignificant, to feel like everything is pointless, and how much happier he is with Lambert. How it's even given him a new outlook on the world he came from. He doesn't want to go back, per se, but he doesn't want to completely leave either. He wants to show Lambert the best parts of it, to re-experience his world through Lambert, to really feel the amazement of it all the way he's supposed to, the way that's so easy to stop doing when you're actually living there. It's so easy to take it all for granted, but when you're showing it to someone who's experiencing it for the first time, you can really appreciate it all. 

So every winter they head back to Toussaint and Ciri takes them back long enough for them to do something FUN. They play laser tag. They rope Geralt, Eskel, and Ciri into doing an escape room with them. They go kayaking. They do one of those rope courses and zip-line things. They go to an amusement park. A water park. They walk around a nature trail. They go to a comic convention. (Lambert wears his armor and so many people want pictures with him. He's just sad Aiden wouldn't let him bring his swords, the kids would have fucking loved to see a sword.) They have so much fun. And Aiden stocks up on modern supplies for the year while he's there. Another year's worth of toilet paper, a new tent, another fuzzy blanket, a few pairs of sunglasses because Lambert always ends up breaking his, a nice backpack because Lambert really likes having a bunch of different pockets in his bag for organizing things.

And you know what? Give it ten years, Aiden's bordering on his forties, and he finds some way to make himself functionally immortal. Magic, fairies, a curse, a blessing, I don't know, I don't care. Their plan becomes to live until one of them dies of something--probably Lambert, because he's the one Aiden always has to patch up (he now always buys a very large, well stocked first-aid kit from his world too) what with fighting monsters and all, and the other will follow. It's morbid, sure, but it works for them. With the way things are going, neither of them thinks they'll need to do that anytime soon anyway.

Basically, they live happily ever after, okay? 

HAPPILY EVER AFTER.

[scripttorture]

Hello! I've browsed this blog a bit and came across the idea that torturers often develop mental illness because of their repeated exposure to the violence/trauma of seeing another person in pain, which I'd never considered before. A) Do you believe torturers can therefore be a type of victim as well, depending on the circumstances, and therefore deserving of compassion/therapy? B) Can you point me to more information about this/what kinds of mental illnesses develop in torturers? (1/2)

C) Do you think it's possible for a mass murderer/torturer character to have a realistic, satisfying redemption arc? Do you know any media that's pulled it off believably? Thank you so much for taking the time to read/answer this if you do! And for this excellent resource!

-

The most accessible sources that cover this are O’Mara’s Why Torture Doesn’t Work (good grounding, start with him), Rejali’s Torture and Democracy and the appendices to Fanon’s The Wretched of the Earth where he describes treating two torturers.

 The most current research is about 600 pages of print on demand untranslated French. If you’re fluent in French (I am not and lock down etc has got in the way of me getting this translated) Sironi Comment devient-on tortionnaire?

 Broadly speaking the symptoms appear to be the same as those survivors and witnesses develop.

 And I will go into this in more depth later but keep in mind there is not anywhere near enough research on torturers for us to be entirely sure about most of this. I’m working with the best information we have right now.

 The other two questions are subjective and sort of complicated. By definition a lot of this is going to be my opinion because well that’s what you’re asking for.

 I think we need to be really careful about describing torturers as ‘victims’.

 Yes they’re put in this situation by social structures beyond their control. It is not their fault that they weren’t given training or support in their job. It’s also not their fault that we have this global message that violence is effective or that so many workplaces are unnecessarily pressured/stressful. Most of the time they are drawn in to abusing others because of the social groups and structures within the organisation they join.

 Oversight (with a drive to eradicate torture), funding, training and clear consistent messages about the right way to handle difficult situations would probably prevent most cases of torture.

 This does not change the fact that on an individual level each of them chose to hurt other people.

 Some of them will have made that choice understanding there was a threat to their own safety if they did not. Some of them will have made that choice just because it was what everyone else was doing. Some of them genuinely believe what they did was the ‘right’ decision at the time.

 They still made that choice. And given that we have records of people in similar positions refusing, even when it put them at risk of attack or death, I don’t have a lot of sympathy with the choice torturers made.

 The fact I’m a pacifist factors into this. Consider my biases.

 Torturers typically show a very low understanding of the impact their actions have had on other people.

 They might regret their actions but this is typically framed in a very self-centred way. They usually don’t express more then cursory regard for the victims. They regret it because they’re suffering now, because they have nightmares, because they can’t keep a job. And oh it’s all so unfair.

 I don’t know why this is the case. But it’s a feature Sironi described in interviews about her work. And I’ve seen it over and over again in interviews with torturers.

 Yes torturers suffer. The symptoms they develop are terrible and have a lasting impact on their lives. They typically can’t hold down jobs and struggle to re-integrate into society in any meaningful fashion.

 And yes I believe they should be treated. I believe that anyone with a disease or condition which requires treatment should have access to care and treatment. Whoever they are. Whatever they did.

 I believe that as fellow human beings torturers are entitled to a degree of compassion. When I say that torture and mistreatment are wrong I mean it. My position doesn’t change just because the theoretical victim is a former torturer.

 I do not think that treatment and compassion should be dependant on a person being suitably victimised. For me the only thing it depends on is their need and their humanity. In the literal physical sense of them being a human.

 But we tend to think of ‘victim’ as a simple category that doesn’t overlap with mass murderers.

 And I don’t believe the position of torturers is that simple.

 Especially when so few of them are charged. Torture trials are rare. Convictions are rare. And sentences are short.

 And their victims deserve justice too.

 I feel conflicted about calling torturers ‘victims’ because of this complex reality. And because in fiction we have a tendency to focus on the torturers prioritising their voices over the survivors. I feel like presenting torturers as simple victims of society could risk adding to that.

 For me the focus has always got to be the survivors.

 And I think all of this feeds into how we handle redemption arcs.

 I don’t think that writing redemption arcs for villains, even torturers or mass murderers is ‘wrong’. In fact I think that it can be a really good idea. Showing how toxic the environments these people are in is a good thing. Puncturing the way it’s romanticised is a good thing. And showing a way out of it, even if it’s imagined, is not a bad thing.

 But if we’re going to do that in our stories then I think we need to think about what redemption means and in whose eyes the character is redeemed.

 There’s also a small problem: we don’t really know what recovery for torturers looks like.

 There isn’t enough research on them. Partly because of lack of interest but partly because the low conviction rates means sample sizes are small. We’re talking about a limited number of individuals who are jailed and we can’t really ‘prove’ that individuals who weren’t convicted were torturers. We don’t really know what the long term outcomes are, what treatments might be effective or- Much of anything.

 Studies on torturers are typically based on very small numbers of individuals. (For a long time Fanon’s work was the only example of a mental health professional talking about torturers specifically. He saw two of them.) They are not statistically sound. And a lot of resources were simply journalists or mental health professionals compiling notes on the handful of individuals they talked to.

 Everything I say about torturers is based on things like interviews, a handful of studies that have flaws and anecdotal evidence. Unfortunately as of right now it’s the best we’ve got.

 Personally I don’t think there’s enough research on torture generally. Or enough attempts to collate relevant research from other fields. But that’s a rant for another day.

 Let’s get back to that central question: what does redemption mean?

 I think that it’s pretty easy to write a character changing for the better. You can build up the character’s level of insight into what they’re doing/did over the course of the story. You can show them choosing to stop. You can show them shifting to oppose their former allies.

 But bundled up in the idea of a redemption arc is this: is it enough? And who is it enough for?

 I don’t think survivors should be obliged to forgive former torturers. I also don’t think they’re likely to interact positively.

 I’ve talked about this now and again when asked about the difference between legally defined torture and abuse. Because of the organised and widespread nature of legally defined torture there are usually communities of survivors. And communities that are collectively moving through a recovery process because even those people who weren’t directly attacked are likely to be witnesses, carers and relatives or friends of survivors.

 These things echo down generations.

 Cyprus gained independence from the British in 1960, my father is too young to have any real memory of the violence during the colonial period. But he referenced it in arguments with my English mother during my childhood. There are people throughout China today who won’t buy anything Japanese because of Japanese war crimes there during World War 2. There are people who won’t eat fish from the Black Sea, because the bodies of their ancestors were thrown into that sea during a genocide over a hundred years ago.

 I know that as a both a Greek Cypriot and an English person there are people all over the world who will not want anything to do with me based on what my people have done to theirs. And the fact I wasn’t alive at the time does not really factor into it.

 What I’m trying to illustrate here is that this is much bigger, broader and more complex then individual acts of forgiveness.

 Survivors are a highly varied group of individuals. And each torturer can have thousands or tens of thousands of victims. Expecting each impacted individual, and any witnesses and all their family members and friends, to forgive these people is… let’s say ‘unlikely’.

 So does redemption require forgiveness from the wounded party? Is there any possible action that can atone for the sheer scale of these atrocities?

 If we play a simple number game causing this level of harm can be achieved in months or years, but saving the equivalent number of lives takes decades of skilled, dedicated work. If we look at concepts like wergild or jail as ‘paying your debt to society’ then how do we measure something like torture where the numbers are so big?

 I haven’t seen a piece of fiction seriously tackle these questions. But then again I also haven’t actively looked for that fiction.

 I feel like a lot of fictional redemption arcs judge a character to be sufficiently redeemed based on audience sympathy and the main cast forgiving the character. They don’t typically go on to broaden the scope of the narrative and question whether any one else impacted by the former villain’s actions also sees the character as redeemed.

 One of my stories has a former torturer as a major character and I think they are a sympathetic character in many ways. I think that my readers would empathise with them through a lot of the story (which takes place decades after they stopped torturing).

 They’re a mentor figure to some of the younger cast members. They’ve acted as a protector to them and taught the younger generation a lot about the minority culture they themselves are from. And they do genuinely care about these people that they helped to raise, consistently sacrificing to protect these ‘kids’. (The ‘kids’ are 30s-20s at the time of the story.)

 But they’re also incredibly self centred. They don’t really interact with or have a lot of sympathy for the people they hurt. And while this particular family loves and forgives them society at large views them as a monster. Albeit one that is now leashed.

 Is this a redemption story? Is this character redeemed? I genuinely don’t know. In fact that’s part of my interest in writing the story: trying to work out if there is a point, as this character grows, develops and helps others, when I believe they’ve done ‘enough’.

 I think that redemption means different things for different people. A satisfying redemption story is different for different people. And if we can disagree so strongly about it with much simpler, smaller scale crimes then where does that leave us with torture?

 There isn’t a simple answer or a one-size-fits-all writing solution. There can’t be.

 My approach is to try and use the story to see if I can find an answer. Even if it’s only a limited one. For me the story itself is a forum for exploring human complexity and difficult ethical questions.

 I don’t think we have a good solution for how to deal with these people in reality yet. But I do hold out hope that a good solution is possible. Fiction is an arena where we can safely explore possible solutions.

 I guess in the end I’m not sure if there’s any story or arc that will work for everyone. I don’t think there are any hard rules for writing anything and I don’t think there’s ever a way to please everyone.

 Redemption and forgiveness are complicated topics. I think we do a much better job when we engage with that complexity then when we assume a character just has to do a, b and c in order to achieve it.

 When you consider someone to be truly redeemed is an ethical question that I can’t answer for you. I don’t think I should. The chances are you’ll know when you think your character has done enough.

 Just be open to the fact that it won’t be enough for everyone. Consider reflecting that with the characters, because that can make for truly powerful moments.

 In Midnight’s Children Shiva never forgives Saleem, even though Saleem isn’t responsible for Shiva ‘losing’ his life and family because they were both infants at the time. And damn there are a lot of flaws in the movie adaptation but that scene between them in the jail, when Saleem throws that in Shiva’s face hits hard. It shows us so much about both characters.

 And I think that’s a better way to approach it then trying to figure out if a character is redeemed yet: figuring out how they’ve progressed, how others respond to that progression and why.

 I hope that helps :)

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