#what's that one post. about removing memories not removing the loss. only the context of it. he's that.

[quietwingsinthesky]

prompt: samifer, "my husband"

(i love your drabbles, by the way)

(oh, that's good, because i love writing them. one of the best parts of my day, really. they're not long enough to stress me out, but the exact 100 word limit is challenging enough to make them fun.)

(and uh also i made two again. lmao. to be fair to me, these are very interlocked. interpreting the prompt a little loosely? i hope it suffices.)

A small detail in the whirlwind of Sam's last day on Earth, that before Lucifer takes him from Detroit, he slides the wedding ring off his former vessel's finger.

That turns out not to have been Sam's last day at all, and then Sam's sitting across from Dean, perfectly fine (something's wrong), and there's a ring on his finger, still.

"Where did you get that?" he asks, like he doesn't already know. He wants an answer that doesn't scare him.

Sam shrugs.

Sometimes he presses the metal to his lips. Not a kiss. Like he wants a taste of grief.

~~~

Sam's wall is broken, and Dean knows, whatever his brother claims, that there's molten metal leaking in, cooling on his skin only to entrap him further. The gold band on his left hand is a constant reminder.

Dean takes it off only once, when Sam's asleep in the passenger seat. He tosses it out the window of the Impala.

That night, he wakes up to Sam kneeling in their motel room. Dean stays still, silent.

A gleam of gold in the dark on Sam's folded hands.

"…until death do us part," he's whispering, head tilted up to meet unseen eyes.

[ineffableteeth]

So I was rewatching Good omens and I realized something.

Season 2 brings up Memory. A lot

Specifically Crowleys memory

In every episode something is said about it and I find this really interesting

I’m only going to bring up what I think are major, I want to note there are more instances than this. This is gonna be messy and a little disorganized since I’m just throwing my words on this post as I think of them and read the episode transcripts but I had to write it out.

In Episode 1 we see pre-fall Crowley and are introduced to our amnesiac archangel. This will be important later

We don’t see much of Crowleys memory loss in this episode but the biggest example I could find was the way Beelzebub had said Extreme Sanctions after Crowley misunderstood

It was as if they were expecting him to remember

In Episode 2 we get the first blatant hint of Crowleys memory loss

When Gabriel said he couldn’t remember, Crowley doesn’t say “Well try anyway”

He says “Yes you can.”

Crowley knew Gabriel could remember, he knew he could make himself remember. As if he knew it from experience.

Also in this episode we get Crowleys “I’m a demon, I lied.” As well as several other instances where he lies in this episode.

I also feel like his “Lonliness” is important to point out, because I feel like that goes much much deeper than “[I’m on] my side”

In Episode 3 we get Crowley and Gabriel’s Conversation about “Gravity”

Crowley knows what gravity is on a base level. But he says “I don’t remember” when asked why gravity exists and proceeds to give a very nondescript explanation

Now for Episode 4. This episode is actually what triggered me to start looking for these instances.

Because of Furfur

Near the end of the episode when Furfur enters the dressing room he mentions that him and Crowley were directly next to eachother during the Great War, as well as the fact Crowley used to jump on his back “Like a little monkey in a waistcoat”

And Crowley didn’t remember

All he remembered was going to war

Why does Furfur — A demon — remember but Crowley doesn’t?

In Episode 5 we get one of the most crucial ‘memory’ scenes imo

The aftermath of Crowley threatening Gabriel

When Gabriel tells Crowley “It hurts to remember, my head isn’t built for that” Crowley replies with “I know, do it anyway”

Again it sounds like Crowley is speaking from experience

The most important quote to me though is when Crowley says “I know, looking at where the furniture isn’t.”

Because after the fact he proceeds to ask Gabriel if he wants a hot chocolate

This wasn’t a sympathetic action. It was Empathetic.

He feels for Gabriel, he knows what it’s like to not know

Finally in Episode 6 we get context.

This is where the whole amnesiac archangel comes into play.

Before I get into that though I want to bring up Crowleys meeting with Saraquael. Because something interesting stood out to me while reading her voicelines. After Crowley asks “Do we know eachother?” Saraquael says “When you were an Angel” and pauses before she says the following voiceline “We worked together on the horsehead nebula”

Those were two different sentences. I’m definitely looking too far into this but to me it sounded like she knew he wouldn’t remember so she gave unnecessary context. This as well as the fact she didn’t respond when Crowley essentially said he didn’t remember her.

Back to my original point though, during this episode we finally learn how (and why) Gabriel lost his memories. Angels can remove their own memories as well as have their memories removed by other angels.

But clearly Furfur still has his memories, as well as Shax, Dagon, and Beelzebub

And anytime Crowley mentions “remembering” something it’s post-fall

Adding on Neil’s post about “Crowley not being a reliable narrator on his fall” as well as showing Crowley pre-fall in episode one leads me to believe there’s some foreshadowing in there and something happened to Crowleys memory.

But What?

Why doesn’t he remember?

What did they do to him?

[carlos-in-glasses]

Hello CIG! For a very belated Nice Ask Week ask, I have a non-conventional question for you.

You've spoken before about having to remove quite a bit from Where All This Love Comes From (I believe you said it might have been something like 20k words, again WOW) and I was wondering, do you do anything with that writing?

Do you save it for a different story? Do you take a second to mourn what might have been? Do you try to re-imagine things so you can put them in a different scene than originally planned?

I'm AWFUL at having to delete things (I deleted something that was only 100 words yesterday and it still made me want to pull my hair out) so I'm intrigued by how you go about it, if you don't mind :)

Hello! ❤️ Thank you for the belated! The 20k loss was all to do with Gabriel being alive after the wedding - it also featured two original characters (one OC I kept but highly reduced their role; one I removed completely from the story). I didn't fully delete any of it - it's all in a separate document - so I may well re-home the writing depending on what I come up with for future fics. There were a few particular scenes that I was super sad to let go of - it would be great to find a story for them.

Before Gabriel was killed, I'd written about 60k, so salvaged 40k and reworked it into the fic as it is now, which has a totally different plot. (I did mourn. It hurt! I felt blue about it for days before I came up with the new idea.) The key was to change the context where possible, and sometimes I couldn't. An example of change is the fall festival moment, in which Gabriel confronts Carlos. Originally that confrontation involved Carlos doing something else "wrong" in Gabriel's eyes, and it happened post-wedding rather than in 2022 (the flashbacks were at a minimum originally!) But the description of the fall festival is from the original. The flashback in chapter 3 that involves TK, his parents and trouble in school was also from the original, but TK's reasons for telling Carlos about that memory were different.

I didn't have any desire to delete the 20k as if it had never existed, because I think the writing is good and he ideas still interest me. I would only delete writing I thought was truly bad and wouldn't work at all ever. For the most part I think it's worth keeping what you can - eg. you never know if a paragraph that seems awkward in a fluffy romantic fic might fit way better in a fic with a dramatic plot.

I don't know if this is a very good answer 🥲 But thank you for the question!

This is how I looked when I was mourning for my original plot:

[maxiwaxipads]

self indulgent fragaria memories post

waku waku! these are very messy notes that aren't linear at all! the first is just noir bouquet ep. 2 and what i would want out of it that I wrote a week ago

I like the idea that Tuxedo Sam’s kingdom has already experienced being attacked by SEEDs. Tuxam’s latent rule-making is more due to his paranoia mixed with his want to keep everyone within the kingdom safe.

(Tuxam receiving intel that a SEED is masquerading as a human and in turn, imposes all sorts of strict rules(?))

(It does raise concern to citizens, especially for Tuxam who has a reputation for unconditionally helping everyone no matter what)

But in all honestly—I wanted to implant the idea of a murder mystery where a SEED is mimicking the human form. Somehow Arupek, Chaco, Tuxam, the SEED, and a few innocent civilians are in a “the building is snowed in!” idea.

(They visit a cafe or restaurant, and while eating—a civilian approaches Tuxam who reports the abnormal snowfall)

Tuxam - “Remain calm everyone.” “It’ll be in my best efforts to remove the blockage and getting everyone safe and sound.”

(Power outage, someone disappears) (Furniture is reported to be loss, and people who were also trapped have also disappeared(?)) (If a SEED makes someone disappear, and the SEED is purified—would that disappeared person be dead? Like???) (Imagine a SEED disappearing you, and you appear in a weird void space)

(“WHERE AM I???”) (But you don’t remember what happened when you were absorbed by a SEED(?)) (I imagine being within a SEED’s stomach is like a black hole of nothingness) (Negative emotions intensify, and it’s a feeling of slowly dying despite not looking like it)

(I imagine SEEDs have a slow digestion, so it’s quite possibly to retrieve items or people consumed by a SEED)

(The SEED will feed off their paranoia in hopes everyone turns against each other)

(The culprit would be the one able to adhere to Tuxam’s strict standards, because even Tuxam would know no one can exactly follow him to a T!) 

(“You dirty the pure soul of gentlemanliness!”)

And isn’t Tuxam based on Sherlock Holmes? I would say it’s the perfect plot if done correctly? ♡

SEEDs will attempt to mimic the human form, but unable to significantly change their color palette. Having to rely on concealing themselves, they will mimic inconspicuous outfits. (ie. a SEED wearing a cloak that covers the entire body, or a SEED wearing heavy winter gear(?)) (If that makes sense)

While they mimic the human body, their faces still look like the head of a SEED. (They’ll often wear things like hoods or brimmed hats to conceal their faces with shade.) I imagine these types of SEEDs are able mimic human speech, but incapable of understanding what they’re truly saying.

(But I imagine there are SEEDs fully able to mimic the human form(?)) (I wonder if we’ll ever see sentient SEEDs(?))

Things I Personally Want To See -

Chaco and Arupek get etiquette lessons by Tuxam! I also wanted the idea of Tuxam dressing them up in suits to look more gentlemanly!

yeah i couldn’t think of anything else

i am simple-minded and desire tuxam content

yeah i only made this so i could give context on the current lore and also brain dump about noir bouquet (edit: I wrote everything we know about fragaria memories lore above this note for context <3) (I should mention this is just a chunk from a bigger big note I write everything in...)

when they leave, i want arupek who insists to go ice skating or ice fishing (arupek: “let’s have some fun before we go!”) (tuxam: “are you taking this seriously…?”)

speak your English little guy!!!

Presumably that Tuxam joins the party, I want to add more world building in some shape or form(?))

(do you think chaco enables arupek because he finds his presence to be enjoyable?) 

(When they take the brief moment to camp for the day, I want them to come across an abandoned village overtaken by SEEDs) (Likely abandoned by the SEEDs themselves, but the village is covered in a gross pollution covered in black)

(I imagine Tuxedo Sam’s Kingdom has taken in refugees that consist of people displaced by SEEDs)

(Tuxam - “(Sigh). It’s unfortunate for what had happened.”)

(Tuxam, who feels like he has a moral obligation to eliminate them) (I imagine Chaco and Arupek will also help in purifying the village)

(Even if this village is long abandoned, these houses were once someone’s home. The least Tuxam can do is eliminate the threat so someone’s personal history can be preserved!)

(i honestly don’t know how to write chaco yet, ill probably wait for translations ands see how he’s written and how other fans write him)

(i don’t know if hangyon and tuxam have met each other outside of intros and outros) (but i like the idea that after hearing they’ll be visiting hangyodon’s kingdom)

(tuxam screams into the rooftops “NOOOOOOOOOO”)

(but tuxam already sworn he’d join both arupek and chaco so he can’t back out)

(Arupek, who approaches Hangyon who recognizes Tuxam tells him) (“You got it all wrong! That isn’t Tuxam!”)

(Hangyon plays along) (“Ah~ My mistake, you look the same as a dear friend of mine~ You even have the same name!”)

(Tuxam - “Don’t play dumb, Hangyon…”) (Hangyon - “But I don’t know you at all?”)

(when i imagine going to keroppi kingdom, i want the group to be immediately attacked by drones)

(Chaco - “Ah~ I really don’t know how I got in this mess”)

(lovingly)

(Tuxam - “HEY… You weren’t scam, were you?”)

(Chaco - “A journey is the best thing money can buy. I wouldn’t say I was tricked.”) (“It’s more that I tricked myself.”)

Tuxam - “SO… You were scammed?” (Chaco - “Yes.”)

why did i get the mental image of tuxam as the father chaco as the mother and arupek as their child

it feels wrong to me to label 1 the father and 1 the mother

they either have to be both moms or both dads…? it just makes sense but i don’t know why????

(Tuxedo Knights are an order of knights that were mobilized during the formation of SEEDs taking place in Noir Continent)

(Adhere to a code of chivalry like Knights of Fragaria, they are personally managed by Tuxam himself!)

(Stationed throughout Tuxedo Sam’s kingdom and are always prepared to deal with SEEDs that could appear.)

Honestly, I wanted to add the detail that Tuxam previously lost people he cared about to SEEDs—but I’ll be getting into head canon territory where it does involve OCs <3

(The situation itself is already personal to him, especially a SEED in Tuxedo Sam’s kingdom that is able to mimic the human form)

(Previously lost a friend to SEEDs when they started to take root in the world of Fragaria. 

(I only wrote a fragaria OC based on Chip who was a squire when he died) (Childhood friends troupe, Ichi became a knight alongside Tuxam!)

Childhood best friends to Chip’s Knight of Fragaria, Ichi, who was only a squire, around this time both Ichi and Tuxam were squires together. This was when SEEDs had started to take root within the world of Fragaria.

Alternatively—Ichi turned into a SEED and Tuxam doesn’t even remember this friendship anymore. He only knows he once knew someone. The guilt associated with once knowing someone, but unable to remember them. Tuxam who wants to desperately remember this friendship in his life, and blames the SEEDs for this.

“It’d be nice to honor your memory in some way. I’ve forgotten you. But not your existence.”

But a Tuxam, who remembers his friendship with Ichi—while he isn’t depressive with his thoughts, it has affected his life in having fun and he hasn’t found closure in his death.

I think it’s more of a, “…Is it really fine—if I’m enjoying this? Having fun?” “I’m a knight of my kingdom. It’s my duty to protect, not… Doing this.”

And while honorable, I imagine it’s more of having the leisure to finally relax—even for a moment. “It was moments like this that killed him.” “I can’t bare that… No—It’s not something that should happen anymore. I’ll be strong for myself, and everyone around me.”

In times of peace, Tuxam is the most unease because it feels too good to be true.

(I like to think Tuxedo Sam’s Kingdom, while more better than it was before—has abandoned villages and towns ravaged by the attacks of SEEDs) (While few have still survived, they’re mainly under the protection of Tuxedo Sam’s kingdoms or having to rely on foreign aid from other kingdoms(?))

(Referred as being “overgrown,” it describes places festered with the influence of SEEDs) (these places dye entire villages and environments into a dark pitch black similar to ink(?))

(it’s the bad remnants left from a SEED) (but these places are capable of being purified)

(important to eliminate because SEEDs can erupt from here)

(even a drop of their remnants can birth SEEDs)

(maybe overgrowth happens when a SEED takes an overwhelming amount of negative energy that it spills right out of them(?))

(a SEED that’s too full of negative emotions will plague their surroundings with intense sadness and hopelessness)

(it’ll take a while for them to ingest, and they cannot properly conceal themselves as they once could)

blue bouquet failed draft

Klarkstella - “Purified.” Kurode - “My head…” Klarkstella - “…” Kurode - “Where… Am I?” Klarkstella - “…” “Little Stars Kingdom.” Kurode - “Litt—Gh… I can’t seem to think straight.” “Light…I can’t bare to—” Klarkstella - “Can you stand?” (Kurode attempts standing up, but as he’s about to fall down, Klarkstella securely holds him up) Kurode - “…Thank you.” Klarkstella - “A symptom when being consumed by a SEED.” Klarkstella - “Drowsy. Sensitive to light. Reported to feel weighted and unable to move.” “Increased sensitivity to emotions…” Klarkstella - “No critical injuries…” “A necessary remedy will be rest.” (Kurode, who attempts to speak but seems pained to do so) Kurode - “Trou—trouble on the way here… But I, Gh— don’t remember a thing.” Klarkstella - “…” Kurode - “Uhm…” Klarkstella - “I’ll escort you back to the kingdom.” Klarkstella - “(Louter… Had I brought you, I wouldn’t had been burden with this responsibility… No. I wouldn’t push it on him.)” “(Myu…Something—No. He looks too young to put the responsibility of carrying him either.)” Klarkstella - “(It pains me to ask…)” “Here. On my back.” Kurode - “T—Thank you.” Klarkstella - “And your name is Kurode, correct?” Kurode - “Mhm.” Klarkstella - “Go rest.” (Kurode who listens, strangely at ease) (Quickly falls asleep) Myunna - “K…Klarkstella! Have you found him—” (Klarkstella stares at Myunna with a sleeping Kurode on his back) Klarkstella - “Sh.” Myunna - “Ah!… Myunna will stay quiet.” Myunna - “Is he hurt?” Klarkstella - “…” Myunna - “…” Myunna - “Great. I guess that was a no…?”

I like this, but this was only thrown out because this is under the premise that SEEDs already reached Little Stars Kingdom a while ago... Originally it was Myunna who came with Klarkstella (where they pulled sticks to see who would go and Klarkstella was picked) because he knows how to purify SEEDs, but I kinda want more Willmesh interaction instead?

(Myunna comes out of concern) (Willmesh who comes out of interest with Kurode(?)) (Klarkstella only comes because of a stick)

(I'll probably write it, just more modified and structured(?)) (This is only 1 part of the draft since everything but this part is okay)

the list of tuxam headcanons i accumulated over the months since tuxam was revealed I stopped at like February or march and all the spelling mistakes with badobarm's and hangyon's names... a lot of this was when we only had their appearances and voice lines

(Within the Noir Continent, Tuxam lives within the snowy region of Noir) (I like to imagine there’s a fresh population of fish within this area(?)) (Abundant with rich ores, though relies on imports for fresh produce) (There’s a reliance on fish for food, but some do hunt for their meals(?))

(Because SEEDS are physically more defensive in this region, Tuxam is skilled at magic than with swordplay) (Compared to his peers, he’s either mid-ranged or long-ranged when it comes to battle) (There are some regions uninhabited and said to have species of SEEDS considered dangerous or undiscovered species) (I imagine Pikero has interests over these regions, though Tuxam lets him be with some support and moderation) (Although they argue, the topic of SEEDS are a different topic that requires special attention)

(Especially busy during the Christmas season, and starts celebrations early and long) (Often hard to contact, and needs to be notified ahead of time to make changes in schedule) (Likely makes monthly )

ill be honest with you i just wanted to make 1 philippines reference

(Chip’s knight is a squire) (There’s a small age difference between Tuxam and Chip’s knight, though Tuxam received knighthood early) (Most don’t have a strong opinion on Ichi, but appears kind to others) (Less overbearing, but responsible as Tuxam) (I honestly don’t remember much about Chip, but I like to think Ichi was taken in by their lord) (“I want to see your dreams come true!”) (Childhood friends troupe) (Ichi is able to withstand Tuxam’s strict nagging, and actually appreciates him for it) (“Yes! I’ll absolutely do just that!”) (Most patient knight) 

(The only person in the world that’s able to adhere perfectly towards Tuxam’s standards on a knight)

(They would hype each other up) (I imagine Ichi hasn’t allowed himself to promoted as a knight because he’s a perfectionist who doesn’t believe he’s made it(?)) (Is very much capable, but someone who compares himself with his peers)

(“Ichi” or “Chi” as their name for now(?)) (Ichi because that’s the only name that reminds me of Chip, or Chi because that can be taken away and still sound natural)

(When anybody from Noir, or other Bouquets come to visit, I imagine Tuxam provides way too many layers of winter clothes to ensure their safety) (Tuxam looking like a veteran taking care of pandas, as he escorts them)

(Resistant to the cold, and able to handle harsh temperatures even with a shirt and shorts on) (Like his Lord, he’s able to eat his fill) (Citizens within his region have a high respect for him, and Tuxam helps them daily) (Workaholic, doesn’t know when to stop) (Prideful about his position as a knight, and respects his lord dearly)

(Maybe it’s just for me, but I think everyone sees Pikero as the physically weakest member in Noir Bouquet) (Self-indulged image of Tuxam wrestling Pikero down) (You know that one image where A hugs B behind the back, but it isn’t sweet, and they just wrestle them?) (Like that) (I thought of Hangyun at first, though that’s more funnier)

(Easily embarrassed and overwhelmed when it comes to be complimented) (Though it’s also rewarding when Tuxam also gives praises to others(?)) (Can be surprising to hear them at first) (Someone who isn’t satisfied until he perceives something as textbook perfect(?)) (Even if it isn’t perfect to his standards, it’s more so satisfactory(?))

(Wants to uplift everyone and himself) 

(I imagine everyone in Noir is competitive, but for Tuxam, he wouldn’t easily admit he’s competitive)

(I imagine Tuxam’s hometown is similar to a snow globe, as it has a protective barrier that protects against SEEDS, or any outside threats) (Warmer inside) (A centuries long spell that protects against SEEDS, and able to blow away snow from covering the barrier) (Honestly I don’t know why, but I have a weird obsession of making winter towns into snow globe themed places) (They’re just so cool) (What do you want from me)

i had a weird obsession with artic places having snow globe like cities, but it sounds really cool at the same time?!

(At first I wanted to say straightforward, but I imagine Tuxam explains everything with high detail and attentive to his surroundings)

(Admires Romalish as a role model to become a better gentleman, and wants to get closer with Halritt because of their Lords)

(Myunna, Rimicha, and Tuxam have a self-betterment group where they meet once or twice in a month to become more competent knights(?)) (Honestly thought of this idea because of being the shortest members in their perspective bouquets) (I imagine it more comedic than something that’s serious) (I imagine Myunna and Tuxam are committed to become even better knights, and Rimicha to a lesser degree and wants to have fun instead) (Knight Bootcamp to become even stronger knights!) (Sometimes featuring guest appearances of other knights) (Tuxam tries to take it seriously, but the situation always derails in some shape or form) (I think Myunna as someone who goes with the flow, though not in an Arupek-kinda-way(?)) (He’s willing to be serious yet also take it easy(?)) (If Rimicha and Tuxam were 1 end of extremes, Myunna is more the middle that goes left or right)

(Dramatic episode where Tuxam makes the sudden realization on if he’s being too overbearing on his admiration to his lord) (Because of misunderstanding, he avoids Tuxedo Sam more than usual) (Though under a sudden embrace by Tuxedo Sam, who jumps into a hug, Tuxam admits why he’s been avoiding his lord) (Story ends there) (Misunderstanding ends)

(Noir Bouquet getting so used to Tuxam’s nagging, that the day he decides to stop for a day, they all think he’s ill)

(Noir Bouquet subtly taking a little bit more work when the other seems down because mostly everyone is a bit prideful about doing it themselves (?)) (Maybe not everyone, and maybe unconsciously) (They wouldn’t admit it themselves, but will hide it under an excuse)

(I imagine Tuxam to be a good cook, and especially knows how to handle fish well(?)) 

(Does know when to stop nagging when someone appears upset) (Though doesn’t know how to cheer people up) (Probably goes out of his way to explain his actions(?)) (Very frantically) (Would unintentionally excuse himself by saying, “This is for your very good.”(?)) (Does care about others, but isn’t someone who can express that well(?)) (Maybe in a straightforward matter, but can go in detail about a person’s strengths and flaws(?)) (When I say that, I imagine Tuxam has more of an objective approach rather than relying heavily on opinion(?))

(Wears his heart on his sleeve, and cannot hold a poker face at all) (Familiar with English like his lord, and has studied abroad) (Maybe Halritt and him were enrolled in the same institute, or visited his hometown where he pursued his education(?)) (I like the idea that it was love at first sight for Tuxam, and for Halritt, he thought of him as a friend) (I kinda ship them?)

(I remember writing: “I think everyone can agree that Pikero is the physically weakest in Noir Banquet.” Or something close to that) (I still agree with that)

(Physical Strength: Pikero > Tuxam > Arupek > Chaco > Hangyoon > Badobam) (Stronger when it comes to magic, though he’s average to everything else) (Very resistant against cold temperatures) (When I say average, I think Tuxam who has the same running capacity as a normal person) (Slightly stronger than the average person, but when pitted against other knights, he isn’t too strong) (Still able to defend himself when having to fight close-ranged, though it isn’t his strong suit) 

(I know this is Tuxam brain rot, but I imagine Pikero is unexpectedly nimble) (Can run especially fast when it comes to emergencies) (And by emergencies, I mainly referred to Hangyon)

(A character that I imagine he’s easy to tease and start arguments with) (Though I feel like that’s obvious)

(What’s the opposite of transfem?) (Whatever it is, I like that headcanon) (I remember seeing a head canon that Pikero did his top surgery himself) (lore accurate)

(It took me a week to remember, but it was transmasc) (<-it took me a week to remember it was transmasc...? </3) (but im gay???) (tuxam and tuxedo sam literally walk in the trans flag colors???)

(This has always been a personal thought of mind I always thought as funny, though I like the image of a tall person picking up a person who’s smaller in height) (Like a cat I mean) (By that, I mean I imagine Badobam picking up Tuxam out of annoyance)

(Tuxam keeps up with fashion trends, which can be unexpected of him to others) (Can do simple handicrafts, and a slow learner when it comes to sewing) (He wants to impress his Lord!) (And make bowties his Lord might wear) (I like to think everybody knows how to, to some extent) (Tuxam is a little slower and finds handicrafts hard to make) (It’s the thought that matters!)

(SORRY TUXEDO SAM HAS SERVED IN 8 NAVY BATTLES AND WAS HONORABLY DISCHARGED????) (Kinda wanna write that Tuxam has maritime experience fighting SEEDS in the water) (Has a strong army that’s more specialized in handling winter terrains or cold temperatures) (Maybe Tuxam was inspired by Tuxedo Sam’s navy experience and vowed to become his knight because of his tales) (I like to think that’s apart of his admiration why Tuxam admires Tuxedo Sam) (There’s more to love about his lord!)

(When it comes to members of Noir Bouquet, I imagine they can easily carried get away during the moment) (If they’re really into something, then THEY’RE REALLY INTO IT, and have to see it through the end(?))

(It’ll take a lot of force or have to be reminded if they actually need to be stop) (For Tuxam’s case, I imagine this is the reason he adheres to a strict schedule)

(Probably eats ice cubes like its a normal snack) (And for flavor) (Douses water like its a sauce)

(Someone who insists to do everything himself, and won’t budge until its clearly overwhelming for him) (He’ll still insist to do it himself, but it won’t take long on when he accepts your help) (Finds it hard to ask for help, even when it’s clear he needs it)

(Easily scared when it comes to horror movies or haunted houses) (Probably afraid of roller coasters) (If there’s a jumpscare, he would scream)

(I imagine he’s a character who puts on a brave face when facing spicy food, or anything unappealing) (But if he had a chance, Tuxam would say no) (I think he’s a character who goes, “…It was adequate.” Despite that not being the case) (And the pain is visible to his face) (I would say, “Unless your dense or Arupek,” but is that discrediting Arupek?) (Sounds funny to me, but I hope not)

(How I see it, in my delusions:) (Badoham would taste test it, though is honest on how to improve it) (Badoham would finish because he doesn’t want to waste food) (Arupek eats half of the meal, and then proceeds to puke) (Tuxam says it’s good, though it’s obvious he’s lying) (Pikero goes into detail why it’s terrible) (Hangyon says its tasty, and is being honest to you) (Chaco isn’t even there, or refuses)

(I think Chaco would go “Nah~”) (Make a peace sign with a slight smile, and disappears right there)

(I first thought Chaco would instead force-feed it to you, and ask how it tastes? But I don’t know how accurate that is)

(Maybe he’s a character that has intrusive thoughts about doing that, but says no to your offer)

(Chaco, by his character design and vibes, gives me the impression of someone who thinks about beating up when he’s asked to do anything) (But still helps you at the end in order to appear reliable(?))

“(Huh? Aren’t you capable of doing the work yourself? I have other plans ahead of time.)” “Sure. I’ll be happy to help.”

(He keeps less of a front when around other knights from Noir Bouquet because they already know his act(?))

(“You want me to do what?”) (As he picks his ear)

(Although Tuxam is a character that’s very true to his beliefs, I imagine apart of him can be easily swayed by his emotions(?)) (But I imagine he’s a character that’s hard to convince unless provided with good reasoning)

(Possibly a pessimist, but stays positive in front of the face of others) (Wouldn’t want to burden others despite the clear emotions he expresses) (I imagine he can’t keep a secret for dear life, and easily shows destain when he feels it) (Someone who can’t lie)

(Before becoming a knight, Tuxam was a Tuxedo Sam fan and secretly keeps merchandise and collects plushies) (I feel like that’s everyone in Fragmem though) (They all would, whether or not if it’s kept secret or not) (Like drat! I can’t let anyone know I’m a big fan of my lord!) (But they’re all the same in different flavors) (And when it’s accidentally revealed, I imagine everyone has an individual understanding and keeps secret) (Some might be obvious fans about their lords) 

(“Some might be an obvious fan about their lords,” and I immediately point at Hangyon)

(I feel like Arupek is an adjective to me)

(I imagine Tuxam as a character that unintentionally speaks loudly) (When someone asks him to speak quiet, as a gentlemen, he apologizes and listens to this request)

(Unless something troublesome happens, I imagine he raises voice yet again) (It’s something he tries but can’t always control)

(When teased for his height, he retorts that he’s at a respectable height!) (Tallness isn’t a requirement to be a good gentleman!) (But he does think about it) (He wears hats or heeled shoes to obscure his height) (That’s 1 of his reasons, not a major reason) (His current outfit looks good on him)

(I think he’s a little self-conscious when he’s teased) (But at the end of the day, he knows it isn’t serious at all) (Until he breaks down…)

(Someone who eats small portions because he wants others to eat more) (Though if you insist to eat more, he would oblige on your request before asking a few times if it’s okay) (He has a big stomach, but can’t seem to grow fat or muscle easily) (Though he does train hard)

(Pays attention to his eating habits, but has the tendency to eat less than needed) (He might have a plate full of the daily necessities, but not enough to keep him full) (Like he has a healthy plate, but not enough for a full stomach(?))

(Diligently follows the rules, but if he were to break one, it would somehow be unintentional) (He would reflect on it for a good while, and accept punishment) (“I…I apologize. I’ll do everything in my ability to reflect and not make the same mistake again.”) (He takes it to heart) 

(Abides strict rules, but he’s someone who’s incredibly emotional and sympathetic to others)

Pikero - “You’ve certainly surpassed the definition of ‘food’ into ‘poison.’” “You have my congratulations. Even I can learn something new in this world.”

Arupek - “I…It was something! Yeah! Something!”

In the background, “plueehhhh….”

Hangyon - “Wow~ I never felt so moved!” “Is there more where this came from? I might want takeout~”

Badobarm - “Hm… There’s certainly ways you can improve on this.” “Here, if you do it like this—” (Finishes it all, and gives advise on how to do better)

Tuxam - “A gentleman should always be able to take gifts kind-heartedly!” (nom!)

“…” “How…How thoughtful…”

Chaco doesn’t say a thing. He stares at you. A disfigured face that once held a placid smile contorts into disgust.

or

Chaco looks at you. Smiles.

Chaco - “Nah~”

Makes a peace sign and disappears right there.

[caatws]

If I could hug you right now I would. Your comment about the death to the author idea was so on point it made me emotional. Everything you've been saying has been making me emotional because you take into account all the different contexts of the Gamora situation and don't reflexively dismiss them as being inconsequential just because other parts of vol 3 have been well done. If words can count as comfort food that's what your posts have been for me.

You're also the only person I see who brings up the complexities of the ravagers being Gamora's new family. When we see Nebula's chosen her own body modifications in vol 3 it's not about looks. It's about the autonomy and self love that she's being supported in. She can shape who she is now as well as helping to shape others in a give and take environment. We saw this with Gamora in her original gotg journey and how she chose her clothes, cared for her hair and had a desire to help people. However in vol 3 she's mostly changed by the ravagers and conforming to their standards with no sign of give and take. We don't see her own individual autonomy in the way she presents herself or by being told or shown what she wants that isn't related to the ravagers.

I don't understand how more people can't see that Gamora doesn't have memory loss and a bright happy ending that makes it okay. Gunn signed off on her abuser coming back to take her away from her family before murdering her. He then wrote a finale where this was ignored, only one person cares she died and she got to connect with the life she once had before she was removed from it all over again to be sent back to her "real family". And not a single thing that's come out of his mouth indicates he wants her to have any further association with that life. If fandom could be upset about Natasha's writing in Endgame we should all want to set most of Gamora's writing in vol 3 on fire.

ahhh tysm anon here i am hugging you back <3 and you're so right on all of this!!!!

like literally if gunn couldn't stop the russos but still hated it he could've played around with canon more to remedy the gamora situation more. if the russos can pull a whole fridging cliff and way to get the soul stone out of their ass (like it literally is not in comics canon lol) then surely gunn could've made up some fantastical way to resolve gamora's storyline better.........if he cared to!

[astradrifting]

This is kind of inspired by this recent ask I sent to @esther-dot about Jon’s characterisation and Jonsa shippers’ apparent disregard for it, because it made me think of another part of Jon’s characterisation that is really integral to who he is. Mainly, that Jon really loves his brothers. Especially Robb. His rival and best friend and constant companion. Jon envies him, competes with him, buried a formative traumatic memory where he was deeply hurt by him... but ultimately loves him. Complex relationships with his brothers, both the Starks and his Night’s Watch brothers, are a running theme in Jon’s chapters.

Speaking of Jon’s brothers...

Aegon VI and Robb have a lot of potential parallels, actually. The “Young” moniker, red-haired counselors who are also their parents, trained to be the heir to a great kingdom from a young age, the barely younger half-brother Jon borne of their father’s dishonour of their mother… one that they might both have a good relationship with despite that?

The show tried to play with Jon ‘accepting’ his Targaryen lineage through the jonerice romance, very unconvincingly because it was simultaneously undermining it at every opportunity, in what was maybe a half-assed attempt at Pol!Jon (”They’ll all come to see you for what you are” isn’t anything but a threat in all contexts).

Jon will ultimately choose the Starks over everything else, that’s not really a question. But if Jon were to genuinely connect with another Targaryen, it’d likely be easier for him to find kinship with a half-brother than with an aunt - he has a basis for positive relationships with trueborn half-brothers, while the only aunt figure he’s ever known about is a) long dead and b) actually his mother. I think it’d both make more sense and be more compelling for GRRM to leverage Jon’s existing complex relationships with brotherhood by having him interact with and build a relationship with Aegon, than a rushed and out-of-character romance with Dany. 

Jon also is already primed to believe that Aegon is the real deal, that he was saved as a baby, because he’s already done the exact same thing himself - he swapped out a baby of royal blood who was in danger for a common-born boy, and then sent him halfway across the world for safety (side note: if Septa Lemore is Ashara, and if the baby was actually Ashara’s son as theorised here by @agentrouka-blog, that would just strengthen the parallel, because it would be his body double’s mother caring for him, as Gilly has to do for Mance’s son).

They’re definitely going to come into conflict first - politically, Jon will likely be in a position of power in the North by the time they meet, maybe as the KitN through Robb’s will or regent for Rickon, and probably will fight for Northern independence, while Aegon is fighting to be king of the Seven Kingdoms, not 6. Personally, it will be hard to get past the fact that Jon is the direct result of Rhaegar dishonouring Elia, plus that the Kingsguard who should have been protecting her were all stationed in Dorne, guarding Jon’s mother (in whatever capacity). But these interactions, a conflict and eventual friendship/brotherhood between them, would all be a lot more layered than jonerice can really offer. If a relationship between Jon and Dany was truly all that GRRM has been building up to, then there would have been no need for R+L=J - it adds nothing to that storyline, it doesn’t even make it a forbidden romance, because aunt-nephew is hardly the worst incest the Targaryens have engaged in.

It’s almost inevitable that Da*nerys is going to kill Aegon VI/Young Griff in the books, likely by burning him with dragonfire, in the Second Dance of the Dragons. The weird Dragonpit meeting in the show was very contrived, but it does make sense for Dany to meet the ruler on the Iron Throne at least once in a semi-peaceful context. In the show, she used her dragons only to intimidate Cersei, but she didn’t have a personal grievance with her. Aegon is in much more danger during such a meeting. After all she will think he is a pretender, and she doesn’t much care for the rules of safe conduct, as she showed to the envoys from Yunkai.

Dany shrugged, and said, "Dracarys."

The dragons answered. Rhaegal hissed and smoked, Viserion snapped, and Drogon spat swirling red-black flame. It touched the drape of Grazdan's tokar, and the silk caught in half a heartbeat. 

[...]

"You swore I should have safe conduct!" the Yunkish envoy wailed.

"Do all the Yunkai'i whine so over a singed tokar? I shall buy you a new one... if you deliver up your slaves within three days. Elsewise, Drogon shall give you a warmer kiss." She wrinkled her nose. "You've soiled yourself. Take your gold and go, and see that the Wise Masters hear my message."

(ASOS, Dany IV)

"Ah, there is the thorn in the bower, my queen," said Hizdahr zo Loraq. "Sad to say, Yunkai has no faith in your promises. They keep plucking the same string on the harp, about some envoy that your dragons set on fire."

"Only his tokar was burned," said Dany scornfully.

(ADWD, Dany VI)

So Dany will burn the Blackfyre pretender, and everyone will be happy and cheer to see the rightful queen, the last Targaryen, Slayer of Lies, Breaker of Chains, Insert-The-Million-Other-Titles-Here. Right?

Except how would she prove that he’s an imposter? She can’t exactly roll up with an Alt Shift X video pointing out that Illyrio has said some weird things about Aegon. Is Varys going to have an attack of remorse and explain his whole plot, complete with Blackfyre family tree? Or maybe she’ll explain that she went on a vision quest in Qarth and Aegon totally matches up with the vague symbolism that a bunch of drugged up warlocks told her before she set them on fire?

I don’t think it’s going to matter if Aegon is fake or not, and we might never find out either way. The mystery of his identity isn’t his main narrative, and all of his significance to the story and to multiple other characters is removed if he’s proved to not be Aegon VI. Him being proved fake would just make this plotline a weird, unnecessary digression on Dany’s journey to being the righteous and true queen, his death just another #girlboss moment for her. That’s definitely going to be her perception of it, but once she reaches Westeros we won’t have to rely on only her POV of her actions. History is written by the winners, and no one’s going to miss that it’s a lot more convenient for Dany if the boy with a stronger claim than her turns out to have been fake all along. Arianne and the Dornish are definitely not going to take it lying down, and neither is Jon. He’s not going to fall in love with the woman who murdered his brother, especially by burning him alive. ADWD has plenty to say about how much he hates death by fire.

“Men say that freezing to death is almost peaceful. Fire, though … do you see the candle, Gilly?”

She looked at the flame. “Yes.”

“Touch it. Put your hand over the flame.”

Her big brown eyes grew bigger still. She did not move.

“Do it.” Kill the boy. “Now.”

Trembling, the girl reached out her hand, held it well above the flickering candle flame.

“Down. Let it kiss you.”

Gilly lowered her hand. An inch. Another. When the flame licked her flesh, she snatched her hand back and began to sob.

“Fire is a cruel way to die. Dalla died to give this child life, but you have nourished him, cherished him. You saved your own boy from the ice. Now save hers from the fire.”

(ADWD, Jon II)

Funnily enough, the same fire as a kiss imagery from Dany burning the envoy’s tokar appeared there too, also used as a threat. 

If he is not a kinslayer, he is the next best thing. [...] What sort of man can stand by idly and watch his own brother being burned alive?

(ADWD, Jon IX)

So Aegon’s death is not going to be a triumphant victory for Dany, after which everyone proclaims her the true queen. It’s likely to just solidify opposition to her, from every corner of Westeros. If it happens during a summit or negotiation, it’d be even more of a tragic parallel to Robb and the Red Wedding; the young king murdered off of the battlefield, at an event where he was promised safe conduct. Featuring Dany in the role of Roose Bolton and Tywin Lannister. Tywin’s already died a very undignified death, and Roose Bolton looks to be on his way too.

I think the tragedy of Aegon’s death would also hit harder if we see it through Jon, as a main POV, or at least the aftermath of it. Jon was integral at the Dragonpit meeting after all, and probably would be at a peace summit or negotiation between the leaders of Westeros and the invading force.

In ASOS, there’s a curious lack of Jon’s reaction to Robb’s death. We see his initial reaction to Bran and Rickon’s supposed deaths when he gets back to Castle Black, but he doesn’t even know about Robb’s death until Stannis arrives to defeat the wildlings, and we’re not shown the moment he’s told about it. He barely even thinks about it, not even a mention until he meets with Stannis on top of the Wall:

“Your brother was the rightful Lord of Winterfell. If he had stayed home and done his duty, instead of crowning himself and riding off to conquer the riverlands, he might be alive today. Be that as it may. You are not Robb, no more than I am Robert.”

The harsh words had blown away whatever sympathy Jon might have had for Stannis. “I loved my brother,” he said.

(ASOS, Jon XI)

And that’s literally all we get that is specifically about Robb’s death - the rest of Jon’s chapters, his guilt and grief is about the loss of all his siblings, and the idea of stealing Winterfell from them. It doesn’t really make sense for him to not think about it at all, considering how close they were. This reminds me of how he has a non-reaction to Sansa’s marriage to Tyrion as well, as talked about in this post by @agentrouka-blog. Part of this could be Jon’s tendency towards denial and suppression of all his feelings, but it also points to GRRM explicitly obscuring his reaction - perhaps because he’s going to explore it in the wake of another brother dying a very similar death? One that this time he’ll be there to witness?

[probably-haven]

Heyyyy flurp so. I've been thinking about this for a few days now and I think it's pretty interesting - in Venti's story quest, he tells us about his past, about his friend, about his loss. That is probably the first time he ever talks about it, right? Like, he's never ever talked about his loss to anyone ever before, most likely? He never could.(I know he slept for a long time but still) It made me think that it could be one of the reasons he still holds on to those memories. He couldn't confide in anyone. Nobody was there for him, to suggest to him that maybe taking the form of his friend is not the best way to address his grief, or his friend's wishes.

...unless I'm forgetting/unaware of some piece of lore in which case this is not as angsty. Anyway, thoughts?

See this is actually a really curious question and yes I do have many thoughts!

Off the bat, I don't think it's the first time he ever talks about it as in "talks about it at all" but I think it's definitely the most obvious or open time he has done so.

Now let me elaborate on that

I can't be sure but awhile back I made a post that briefly mentioned how removed Venti seems to be from a lot a lot of his feelings and there were a few example of how he avoids it(it being both his feelings and other's concern) but one of the things I brought up was the fact that when Venti told us about this, he didn't tell us outright; he told us as if he was completely seperate from the situation. If my memory serves correctly, the entire cutscene about Venti's past with Decarabian is told entirely from the third person. It's structured like any old bard's tale would be, with the music playing in the background and everything. (Even if there were first person segments, the idea continues, the same way reading a book might)

And that's the tragic genius of it: it could just as easily be played by any other bard and have no deeper meaning beyond a storyteller telling a story. Bards sing tales of historic events often after all, especially those so central to the ideal of freedom that Mondstadt was founded on.

It's only the extra context and understanding that the traveler(and us by extent) has that allows them to connect the dots and identify this as a part of Venti's past. The traveler knows that Venti is the Anemo Archon, Venti started off saying he was once just one of the winds, the traveler has context from the Stanley situation and Venti's "I took the form of a friend."

So to be exact- I feel like Venti has told this tale many times before, more than he could remember- and not only Venti but a number of Mondstadt bards likely picked up on it over time. But in all these times it's just that: a tale

As for Venti outright connecting the dots for people, I can't help but feel that it's likely something that would come up during the occurrences where the original Seven would gather in Liyue. However, these are the people who lived through the archon war and let's be real, they probably wouldn't know unhealthy coping mechanism even if it fell from the sky "I will have order" style. It's not as much for feedback and more of a "so what happened to you? Since we've all been through shit" that would inevitably come up out of curiosity at some point throughout the long span of time where they were still alive.

My only other possibility is Dvalin, since they seem to know each other quite well and there's the whole "do some real work, Barbatos" line that makes me feel like maybe Dvalin would have criticized and Venti was just like "lol no <33" and then went to sleep

But other than that- I feel like yeah. The immortals who lived through these equally dark times probably don't have a grasp on healthy vs. unhealthy coping mechanisms and both they and Venti know that they themselves most likely aren't in a place to cast judgement. And Venti is a bard, he reads people and he knows that they know this.

So in the place of actually being open in his admittion, I do think that this would likely be the first time(tho Dvalin is my one alternative).

The traveler has connected the dots, and is able to identify what this story really means to Venti, and I feel like they know him enough and he genuinely, non-flippantly respects then enough to actually listen to what they may have to say.

I forget the exact word but shortly after the story he makes a comment about the traveler being either smart or clever or insightful or something along those lines, which shows he values their opinion pretty highly in that moment. Which gives him an opportunity to actually grow and potentially move on to better ways of dealing with his past.

So to summarize I would say it's less a matter of Venti telling people his story, and more of him actually sharing it with them in all it's meaning.

[daughterofanarcissistwoman]

Trauma Bonding

(The writer here refers to an ex but this applies to familial relationships as well.)

You may feel pretty crazy over there in your trauma bonded trance for someone who mistreated you, but know there are people actually eating dirt out there and making more sense than some of the well-meaning advice I heard while I was getting over various forms of heartbreak.

We are told to stop fixating, face the fear of moving on, focus on yourself, and that time heals all wounds. When in fact, the symptoms of a traumatic reaction to a trauma bond make these very things feel nearly impossible.

What’s more, when taken in the context of trauma bonding, prolonged grief over the loss of a relationship is far from irrational, even when that relationship was a toxic one. If you feel more stunned and immobilized as time wears on, this is the reaction of your organism actually working to protect you from a perceived, ongoing threat.

You are not “crazy”.

Your body’s physiological state is just trying to communicate with you in a way that you may not quite understand yet.

There are people all over the world who experience cravings for dirt or clay. This is called geophagy and clearly sounds so insane that people feel ashamed to admit their cravings. Yet research has found that these cravings may indicate a lack in bodily mineral content or may function as the body’s protective response to pathogens in pregnant women or children. The content of dirt or clay may serve as a protective barrier in the stomach.

What may FEEL mentally and physiologically irrational, actually makes sense. This does not mean that anemic people should make themselves a nice dirt snack with their coffee this afternoon. It does mean that feeling estranged, ashamed, and ignoring the REALITY of the craving, without looking further into what it indicates, will never resolve their organism’s unmet need.

What is trauma bonding?

I only started to understand trauma bonding when I stopped feeling ashamed and started trusting my body’s own physiological messengers.

Breaking a trauma bond can feel agonizing. What’s the point of trying to accept the reality of a toxic relationship, go no contact, and try to move on with your life when you only feel worse as time wears on?

Breaking a trauma bond comes with intense withdrawal symptoms, flashbacks, cravings for the toxic person, compulsive thoughts about what happened, and an anxious state that may make you feel like you are going backward, without abate.

This is going to sound counterintuitive at first, but these very symptoms are confirmation that staying away from the toxic relationship is absolutely imperative to your health. This is because trauma resides as a physiological response to a perceived threat. Your organism knows and reacts, at the core, gut, and instinctual level, when a person or situation is harmful.

And while you may be fully consciously aware NOW that you are no longer in the relationship, your body is still registering an ongoing threat. This is manifesting in symptoms that certainly make you feel like you are going “crazy” — or maybe even make you feel as if you were never meant to stay away in the first place.

But all this DOES NOT mean that your body is trying to indicate to you that you are forever cosmically tied to that dirtbag who mistreated you, used you, and broke your heart. It means that the trauma that may have occurred before the relationship, during the relationship, and when the relationship ended, continues to live inside of you. It continues to live as a memory and echo that has no orientation to time and place.

You are feeling this way because, physiologically, you still don’t feel safe.

You will NOT be the person who longs for the person who mistreated you forever. But it’s going to be hard to get there if your strategy is to grit your teeth, brace yourself, and steel even more energy in trying to fight your body’s frantic physiological responses to the trauma in the trauma bond, through sheer will, when you are already frozen in emergency mode.

Stay with me. I’ll explain.

We look into trauma bonding as a way to explain, romanticize, and decode the characteristics of a relationship that feels or once felt so precious.

Here’s the gut-punch that usually gets lost —when you’re in a trauma bond, and the bond “breaks,” the trauma remains.

If you’re a cookie in an Oreo and the other cookie leaves, guess who is stuck with what seems like even more trauma filling than you started with?

This “trauma filling” can help to explain why your mind, body, and soul are registering a frenetic, obsessive, red level, emergency breaker craving for a toxic ex, toxic relationship, or situation.

The Trauma Bond

The reason for this hyper-aroused-anxiety-trance lies in some part to the nature of trauma bonding itself. Trauma bonds are formed when your organism registers that you are in danger.

According to “The Betrayal Bond,” a book written by Patrick Carnes, who developed this concept, “trauma bonds are the dysfunctional attachments that occur in the presence of danger, shame, or exploitation. Trauma bonds occur when we are bonding to the very person who is the source of danger, fear, and exploitation.” They involve seduction, betrayal, and high intensity.

They also involve a seemingly endless sense of helplessness and hopelessness. Carnes wrote, “This type of bonding does not facilitate recovery and resilience but rather undermines those very qualities within us.”

Throughout the relationship, your organism assessed the threat and continuously mobilized energy for you to fight or flee. Yet the trauma in trauma bonding creates a cyclical, repetitive cycle that contains your ability to protect yourself, trust yourself, feel your body’s physiological reactions or evolve out of your current state, even when your partner is gone.

Instead of fighting or fleeing, you remain frozen and clinging with an “insane level of loyalty, to an impossible, unresolvable, toxic, overwhelming, or cosmically doomed bond.” A person chained to this type of bond “disbelieves the obvious and accepts the impossible.”

The following are some signs of trauma bonding, which I’ve adapted from Carnes:

• When you continue to be fixated on people who hurt you and who are no longer in your life.

• When you crave contact with someone who has hurt you and who you know will cause you more pain.

• When you continue to revolve around people who you know are taking advantage of you or exploiting you.

• When you are committed to remaining loyal to someone who has betrayed you, even though their actions indicate few signs of change.

• When you are desperate to be understood, validated, or needed by those who have indicated they do not care about you.

• When you go to great lengths to continue to help, caretake, or consider people who have been destructive to you.

These types of relationships capitalize on old wounds and previous traumas.

As a bigger and separate topic, there are a lot of reasons for why we may be vulnerable to trauma bonding, to begin with, including a deep desire to heal a prior hurt. We do this by subconsciously recreating the prior situation, down to the very exploitative, dangerous, or shameful elements that existed in the prior trauma. Down to the type of toxic, emotionally unavailable, or developmentally stunted person in the prior situation.

The reasons why we get into these types of bonds, the reasons we stay, and the reasons why we can’t let them go are interrelated, and at least one thing remains the same: our body stores these memories physiologically, without a time or date stamp. The memories can make us feel like we are in an endless cycle of trauma and pain, with or without the relationship.

The Trauma

Trauma is a big concept, that lives on much developing academic ground. I’m no expert, and what I’m saying is informed by the work of trauma researchers Peter Levine, Bessel van der Kolk, and Patrick Carnes, but this is simply my interpretation.

Viewing your seemingly irrational reactions to heartbreak through a trauma-informed lens will reduce some part of the shame that comes with continuing to live in a body that is suspended in a hyper-aroused and frenetic state long after we are told that we should be over a relationship or situation.

There are different kinds of trauma. Some are the types of trauma we are typically aware of —responses to natural disasters, war, abuse, genocide, and other atrocities. We associate those traumas with the development of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, which has helped to explain how victims survive in dire circumstances, including why the victims end up turning against themselves and becoming loyal to the abuser, as in the case of Stockholm Syndrome.

Understanding trauma begins when you remove judgment from the equation about the degree of atrocity that must exist in order to define trauma as trauma. There are other aspects of trauma, such as those that involve the body’s response to betrayal, childhood experiences, and interpersonal relationship trauma. A traumatic reaction is a completely subjective thing. There are more possible situations/origins of trauma than there are people.

Trauma lives inside the body as a physiological state. It will be easier to become aware of the manifestation of this state and to give it credibility if you realize that trauma can occur in the absence of abusers, victimizers, and overtly dire situations. You can have a traumatic reaction to anything or anyone that your body perceives as a threat, including a break in attachment with even the most well-meaning, non-intentionally insidious, but emotionally empty people.

Peter Levine has defined trauma as “Any experience which stuns us like a bolt out of the blue; it overwhelms us, leaving us altered and disconnected from our bodies.” It is difficult to access coping mechanisms while in this overwhelmed state. This reaction can become more intense when the relational trauma occurs for long periods of time, with intermittent reinforcement, and when it is layered on top of relational trauma that occurred in childhood.

The stunned shock of anything that your body perceives as a threat, including a betrayal or a breakup, can live inside of us as a physiological state, even when we are not in present danger — when we are out of the breakup, moved out, and presumably moved on. Our bodies are engaged in a survival response even when out of the danger — which manifests itself as a freeze state that makes all the negative emotions you felt while in the relationship freeze within you as well.

What is this? Why does this happen?

The Freeze State.

It happens as a result of a completely natural human reaction to a potentially threatening situation. Peter Levine has explained how trauma develops in his book, “Waking the Tiger.” When faced with perceived danger or challenge, we become energetically aroused, mobilized, and poised to pounce, respond, and defend. This is the reason why weaklings are able to lift cars in order to rescue children. Our bodies were built to generate tremendous energy and appropriately constrict it so that it can be released. So we can fight or flee from threats for our very survival. When the energy is released, there is a tremendous sense of relief and somatic calm. There is no trauma. The situation makes sense to us because we witnessed our bodies working with us to resolve a threat.

So what happens to this tremendous, do-or-die energy isn’t released? When we feel we cannot fight or flee, as in the case of a trauma bond, there isn’t a discharge of this energy.

Instead, we hard stop freeze. Unlike other animals, our more highly evolved neocortex prevents an instinctual response of releasing this energy anyway, when the freeze state ends. Without the release, our body constricts this incredible bundle of energy and contains it in our nervous system. We are suspended in a highly mobilized emergency alert state, hypervigilant, and brimming with energy that our body now has to shift around, negotiate, and safety-valve slowly expel through adaptations that make us feel like we are experiencing an anxiety reaction. This too, is our body working for us, to prevent a nervous system meltdown.

This is trauma.

An example of this is when you brace yourself during the impact of a car accident and later find yourself completely motionless, your knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel, adrenaline coursing through you, heart rate is racing, breathing heavily, with almost no memory of the event.

Why won’t our “smarter” brain allow us to discharge this energy during the freeze state? Again, your body is trying its best to protect you. When that tremendous force of arousal energy is first triggered, it makes us feel up to the task, positive, and intensely alive. When the release is thwarted and is instead subsumed inwardly, we associate the energy with intensely negative emotions.

All those feelings and all the energy that you might have expelled during the relationship in a fight or flight response — all the anger, the shame, and the fear — now reside within you and may feel like are directed TOWARD you.

Our “smarter” brain attempts to protect us by negotiating these emotions within our circuitry because it believes that this work will protect us from experience sheer terror of the release. We fear releasing them because the energy itself is so strongly associated with danger, betrayal, and fear. You are now the home of negative energy that was never meant to be yours.

What does this have to do with your inability to let go of a toxic relationship?

Why does all of this slow you down when it comes to commonplace advice like “stop fixating, face the fear of moving on, and focus on yourself?”

Breaking trauma bonds.

The reason it feels like you can’t “break” a traumatic bond is because you are still suffering from your body’s adaptations to all of this chaotic, negative energy that is now stored inside. These very adaptations cause you to constantly review what happened, to fixate, to refrain from feeling fear and grief, and to obsess about the relationship.

• Anxiety.

The nervous system experiences trauma as a body feeling. In other words, your hyper-alert state lives on as symptoms that can be perceived as anxiety: increased heart rate, tension, agitation, flashbacks, shudders, muscle soreness, and racing thoughts.

All of this anxiety can feel unfair. We know it’s normal to feel grief over the loss of a relationship, but the hope is that we will feel some sense of relief once we get the courage to let go of someone we loved, but who we know is toxic, narcissistic, or emotionally unavailable. Hang on. Your body is communicating to you that internally, you still feel as if you are in danger. Because this anxiety state is so closely associated with the trauma bond, this may feel like a craving for your ex and the trauma bond, when it is in fact, a frantic message to stay away.

• Helplessness.

When exposed to personal trauma, the part of the brain that processes information, puts things into context, and communicates to you in narrative form shuts down. You are suspended in emergency activation mode, but without an ability to cope with the stress.

This is why no contact is so important. When exposed to anything that reminds you of your former partner, your nervous system triggers energy to communicate the presence of a threat but prevents you from consciously putting that threat into the context of what is occurring here and now.

In this state, it can feel hard to learn new things or assimilate information.

This is why it can feel like such a gut punch to see your ex or hear about his or her life, even after time has passed and you are sure “you got this.” It can leave you feeling helpless and hopeless.

Trauma bonds don’t “heal with time” because trauma doesn’t have a sense of time. Don’t expect to never feel triggered. Feeling triggered does not mean that you are “back to square one” when it comes to processing. It means that you are experiencing traumatic anxiety, which once again makes you feel like you are frozen and immobilized. This can lead you to feel depressed even though the current stressor is no longer around. Don’t lose hope. Even the smallest bit of awareness of what is actually occurring will help you to unfreeze out of this state, and this will get more automatic and manageable the more you increase this awareness.

• Flashbacks.

Because you are not able to put your physiological distress into a time and place context, you are not able to consciously recognize that the traumatic event happened in the past. This causes confusion between past trauma and current stressors. Your body, behind the scenes, may be experiencing today’s stressful day as a flashback to the past, as if the trauma has returned.

Life goes on after a trauma bond. Other people and situations will stress you out and trigger anxious feelings that you will subconsciously associate with the trauma bond. This is why stressful days and subsequent disappointments make you feel like you are missing the trauma bond more intensely.

Trauma is like a trance. It makes you less aware of your current state, your bodily sensations, and your feelings. When you start to feel more safe, grounded, and present, you will slowly become more aware of when these flashbacks occur. You will feel less entranced and more able to untangle your prior distress from what is currently happening in your life.

• Trauma repetition review.

After an animal goes into fight, flight, or freeze and releases all the energy its nervous system conjured to get out of a dangerous situation, the animal goes into a review state. The point of this is to figure out what happened and to learn from the experience. Trauma bonded humans also go into this state, except the review occurs in a highly aroused and anxious state, because the energy from the experience has not been released.

This is why it is so difficult to stop fixating on what occurred, why you are experiencing obsessive thoughts, replaying old scripts, and why you feel abandoned and rejected long after a traumatic break has occurred. You are processing the trauma bond while you are still in a stressed and hyperaroused state.

This is why talking about trauma, rehashing the situation with your friends, and recycling anger doesn’t make you feel better and only further retraumatizes you. It may feel like you lost something important because you can’t let go of compulsively thinking about the trauma bond. This repetitive rehashing is healthy and normal, but only when conducted when you are out of an anxiety state and feeling grounded, safe, and present.

The antidote to compulsive rehashing is to remember that trauma lives inside the body, as a physiological state. Once activated, it shuts down your ability to process information. There’s nothing wrong with trying to figure out what happened, but know that doing so in this triggered state may make you feel like you need to return to the trauma bond.

• Hypervigilance.

Hypervigilance is the inevitable result of all of this hyperarousal. In trying to make sense of how you are feeling, your body actively searches for the source of the threat, even when one cannot be found. This drive can feel like a fixation to scan for the source, even though what you may just be reacting to is your own internal arousal. This gets repetitive and compulsive.

Your body remembers the trauma bond. It remembers how it felt and who was around. Even out of the relationship, a trauma bonded person may still feel threatened by a memory of the past when dealing with a current stressor. Your brain scans for a source of the threat. Your brain lands on the emotionally charged memory and image of someone associated with the trauma bond. You may feel plagued by images of your ex-partner, but this is only because your body remembers this person as a source of threat, not because you need to run back to this person.

All of these symptoms occur because your nervous system is suspended in a hyper-aroused state, searching for new danger, and attempting to protect you.

The key to releasing the trauma bond is to remind yourself, carefully, with compassion, and with consistency that you are no longer in danger and that you are now safe.

– This, first and foremost, has to be true. If you are still in any way involved in a trauma bond, then you are not safe. It may feel like you’ve hacked it and you are over it and you are ready for contact or another round, but your physiological systems will likely tell you otherwise.

– When you start to feel triggered, remind yourself of where you are in time and space. You may be experiencing a physiological memory of the past that makes you feel as if you are re-experiencing the trauma. Trauma robs you of your ability to stay in the present. It drops you in a trance and prevents you from recognizing what you are feeling — both emotionally and physiologically. There are many ways of grounding, including yoga, breath work, meditation, journaling, spending time in nature, among so many others. Once you get committed to healing, you will seek and find endless sources of information and relief in these. The key is to begin. Yoga will not release your trauma bond. Going for a hike will not make flashbacks and obsessive thoughts go away. These things may, however, bring you more awareness to your sensations and feelings, which will help you stay in the present when you feel yourself becoming taken over in a trauma bonded trance.

– Become emotionally available to yourself. The way to release a trauma bond is to very slowly and compassionately separate the amount of fear, that you may not even know you feel, about your negative emotions from the negative emotions themselves. These negative emotions are stored inside of you because your body internalized them, instead of using the energy of these emotions to flee or fight. They are not yours. These emotions are not your anger or your shame. You are safe now. You no longer need them. But you need a really safe base in yourself, your enviornment, and others in order to slowly release these. Be kind to yourself. It’s not easy to let go.

– A symptom of being trauma bonded is an intense desire to inform the person who hurt you about your healing. Don’t do that. It will only entrench you further. Your stored negative energy is not your own, but it’s not your ex’s either. It may feel like you have to “place” it somewhere, but this will not get rid of it, and you will only re-traumatize yourself. You can’t put it somewhere else. You can replace it with the knowledge this energy is no longer necessary to protect you, because you are safe now.

Trauma-bonded people are usually the foremost experts on their exes. In order to survive, they can discern mood changes from small facial movements, sideways grunts, or the way a person is standing. Start becoming this aware of yourself.

Start noticing what triggers you, when you are feeling hyper-vigilant, when you are reviewing or processing the relationship in a stressed out state. Start noticing when your flashbacks occur. You may find that they are actually occurring in response to current life stressors.

In becoming aware of this, you may find that there are other toxic people and situations in your current life that you can let go of in order to feel more safe. When other toxic bonds fall away, you may feel more ready to be yourself. When you feel more ready to be yourself, you may become even less ashamed and more emotionally aware. You can start to recognize which thoughts and emotions aren’t yours.

When you separate these, you will feel even more safe. Becoming more self-aware is work with a huge payoff, and you’re already so good doing it with everyone but yourself.

When you separate the past from the present, you will start to have more fun in the present. You will solve the present problems better. You will start to feel more like yourself again. You are safe now, and soon…

You will be free.

This post was written by Natasha Adamo team member, Irena.

https://natashaadamo.com/trauma-bonding/

[sepialunaris]

Theorizing Amelia and One's backstory based on implicit storytelling

Hmmm infinity train possibly not getting a continuation got me thinking more about Amelia and One-One's implicit story throughout the books. Since the train in Book 4 still works on One's "in a literal sense [the passengers] are numbers to him" and "if they dont sort their problems they'll die here" ideal and not post-Tulip "every passenger's wellbeing and progress is important," the state of the train prior to Ryan and Min is a big mystery, and what specifically happens after to Amelia and One One is another mystery.

I saw @suppuration 's post (which unfortunately can't link since, mobile) about how Book 1 of Infinity Train is about One One experiencing and learning to act as a denizen for Tulip, and while he was mindwiped it must have a big impact to how he does his role as the conductor now and before, when he was just one entity.

Long analysis ahead

One = Simon

Book 4 One reminds me of... Simon. Simon "but you are not a person" Laurent. One is colder and more aloof towards passengers, and seeing them as just "numbers," which is similar to Simon's views at nulls and lack of respect of agency. While he got amnesia and his experience with Tulip made One-One realize his inactiveness has also hindered the purpose of the train as well as a sense of guilt on things that were not his fault (Amelia's cars in the train), he does strive to change, but Amelia still remembers and internalizes what she knows One was in the past, hence she still refers to his old name and had to read his instruction card to remind herself of his new ideals.

Moreover, Book 4 shows Stewards being in charge in train maintenance in the past. Reddit AMA said that in the present the Stewards are almost all destroyed in the coup besides the one Amelia outfitted with weaponry and One One used as transport in Book 2. Book 3 saw One One using humans like Amelia for maintenance, which shows that he is more willing to give agency to the passengers rather than lock them up in place while the Stewards do their jobs. So unlike Simon, there is growth.

Amelia = Hazel, but not really

One conforming to rigid power structure and not really considering anyone's agency like Simon and Pre-Hazel Grace makes Amelia seem like Hazel in this metaphor, which is appropriate that she is her 'clone' or imaginary child. And like Amelia entered One's and life resulting in his mysterious split, Hazel entered Simon and Grace's lives to split them (even if One One dont go separate ways like them, and stayed together) after she experience a personal loss that they caused or 'denied to unreverse' (in Amelia's case). Hazel made them both the chance to question, rethink, and restart their ideals but Simon didn't take it, while Amelia at first tried to give constructive feedback to One before executing the coup and also fell into One's problem of not recognizing others' agencies by 1) throwing away One One and possibly removing his memory 2) forcibly taking away the support system for the passengers to navigate their problems like Ryan and Min-Gi thinking its giving them agency to "individuate" and be on their own, when in the case of Ryan and Min it just reiterated their trauma.

Also her contradictory way of thinking is why in the end Amelia's belief of the other passenger's agency ends up being fallible and destroyed as she becomes more violating and just altogether doesn't want passengers to leave their cars. And I'm highkey convinced that the reason the Ghoms exist (but not in Book 4) is that she created them to prevent people from moving around freely, as there is no therapeutic reason for them to exist (that said the hand monster exists, but it is only in 1 car while Ghoms are numerous and everywhere in the wasteland, so this monster may explain One's aloofness to their wellbeing even further). She does have Ghom orb and used it in Atticus, so its really reasonable to think so. Plus it would be a logical thing that would add up to her numbers a lot and make Samantha the Cat dread her, yet still not make her numbers reach the top like Simon after directly trying to murder his friend.

Amelia's Loss

Though we're not sure because of how little screentime we have of them in Book 4, I do think Ryan and Min-Gi's attempt of staying together is a big foil too for Amelia's experience of abandonment, loss, yearning for the past, and loneliness. Therefore the Steward's first appearance was to reonnect the boys to their past by giving back their stuff, despite Amelia saying that she did that to "individuate" them (this may be directed for all the passengers but in this book's context it is about Min and Ryan's commitment to each other), and the second appearance Amelia specifically says "[they] are on their own." By the lens of Ryan and Min, Amelia is portrayed as a force that desires to separate them, not in a malicious nor personal manner, but maybe a projection of her own trauma of codependency with Alrick and not wanting the same to befall to Ryan and Min (it may also be jealousy but she hasn't shown any displeasure of that sort so it seems more like bad faith analysis) and the pther passengers. And in the end she releases everyone in the train from their 'dependency' by decomissioning the Stewards. Her actions, especially the former does have understandable motives and she isn't intending to harm anyone, but it happens anyway because in the end she disrespects their agency and pulled the whole train from under the rug.

Amelia = Lake & others

And the story of agency is central in Book 2, and how Lake fights for their recognition as a person and getting off from the train, to the point they have to confront One-One about it. It was the first time One One's imperfection is shown and how even now his standards for denizens has gotten better but not the best. Though he does end up respecting their agency and puts thought to it too. And a minor detail is that he mentions Atticus too in Book 2, meaning that he remembers him personally due to his experience as a denizen instead of just an instrument like in Book 4 (eg: Denizens like Kez being frozen kept of the blue during Steward visits), and he appreciates Alan Dracula too. So he did grow, even if its not perfect and his cold tendency and lesser view on denizens is still there. Yet One and Amelia's ideals of hierarchal superiority and the concept that denizens are worth nothing bleeds down to the Apex, who follows Amelia's footsteps after she has decided to refuse her former ideal to "individuate" passengers (as she has already used her outfit when finding Grace and if we think Amelia made the Ghoms then yeah it tracks), as well as Grace and Simon's own coping mechanisms of dealing with traumatic abandonment and loneliness being parallels to Amelia, through manipulating others and intruding on people's agencies respectively.

However, what I find interesting is that, like Lake, Amelia also got to the engine room and got to ask for favors from him. While the context is not clear as well as her lack of companions, if we parallel it to Lake's story and also considering Amelia's fallible interest to humanize the passengers to One, something similar might've happened.

Her story parallels with Ryan too, that wants to subvert expectations within his life even recklessly so at times that ends up hurting people (just like how she took over the train and hurt One and the other passengers), yet he deals with life better even after abandonment by Min. She also parallels heavily with Morgan, who was dependent on Jeremy and tried to isolate herself from her friend, Kez. And the big thing that Amelia lacks in this scenario, unlike Lake and Ryan, is that as said before, the distinct lack of companions she has. No one like Jesse or Min-Gi to ground and provide her company besides her desire for Alrick to come back, and doesn't show interest in forging new relationships and instead focused on her own stuff, just like Morgan grieved when Jeremy was gone. Amelia was both isolated and isolated herself further when she couped the train, and in the end like Morgan she turns from a caring person to someone that revokes agency. Though Morgan, in the end does decide to grieve herself and opens a window for her to reconnect with Kez, unlike Amelia who lost that opportunity and fell further to the dark due to cruel circumstance and her own actions.

And as for the reason why One One was split is mysterious and currently unexplained, Idk if this is an appropriate idea to connect to, but I feel like there's a possibility that he could've split himself or gave himself amnesia, as a way for him to deal with self isolation and or trauma from betrayal. Maybe he was even inspired by seeing Ryan and Min's commitment to each other? But again it is farfetched to judge as something tracks as of now.

Soo... tl;dr what i think happened.

During this era One only interacts with the passengers by maintaining the trains through the Stewards, without consideration of their well being or agency, hence the hand monster/Docent exists

Amelia enters the train and fights her way into the engine room to meet One, possibly asking her stuff back too

One decides to receive input from Amelia, who intends to humanize the passengers to him by giving them back their stuff, while akso taking interest to cultivate independence on the other passengers to avoid codependency like her

Amelia falls back to her dependency and asks One to bring Alrick back, he refuses, and she hijacks the train

As a way to give them freedom, Amelia releases all the passengers the rules the train binds them to and destroys all the Stewards that acted as maintenance before

One is sent to the snow car for 33 years. He is either split or mindwiped by Amelia or he performs this action himself

Amelia's idealism wavers over time and she gets obsessed in find orbs to create Alrick. Becomes more militaristic and creates her Conductor persona, outfitted the last Steward with guns, and created the Ghoms with her cannon

In order to make sure no passengers try any funny stuff and let her focus on her quest, she uses the Ghoms to make sure they are within order, and prefers passengers to no longer leave their cars. She ultimately has no control over that though therefore she can only minimize the problem

Book 1 happens, Amelia is ousted and decides to work under One One as a human steward and to fix her mistakes to repent

Feel free to add on or critique things because I might've missed/misintrepreted a lot

[joontier]

The King’s Guard | Chapter 1

pairings: kim seokjin x reader; jeon jungkook x reader

series rating: R (18+) | genre: historical drama au!; king seokjin! au; established relationship! au; royalty! au!; 

warnings: non-graphic mentions of an abuse by Y/N’s stepmama; mentions of death; ANGST; horny ass jinnie and y/n; groping; unprotected sex bc condoms werent invented yet; fingering; edging if ya squint; impregnation kink; voyeurism; oral m and f receiving; slight degradation; good god i have never written this much filth in my life, brb gotta go to church;

word count:  6.3k

g/n: hEY HEY HEY BACK WITH THE SMUT YALL; anywho a few disclaimers before u read this sweetie, YES, its Jung Jungkook for a reason, you’ll see soon enough ;) also,,,, there might be a few korean words thrown in there but ya know context clues or u could search them up too if u want,,,, but i’ll also be placing them at the end of this post for ya <3 P.S. this is also going to turn into a series y’aLLLL GAHHHH

The King’s Guard - Masterlist  ||  navi.

The King’s Guard | Chapter 1

It’s with Seokjin’s relentless pounding from behind you that you figure that the council meeting probably didn’t go well today. You’ve discovered that times of intimacies like these were a way to relieve himself of the stresses of being a newly pronounced king. Not that you were complaining though.

His fingers find your clit with practiced ease, rubbing at sensitive nub with great fervor. Seokjin’s punishing thrusts become slower as you both reached your highs, his cock falling limp shortly after he pulls out of you. Reaching over to the nearby table, he grabs a towel and dips it on the bowl of water, wiping away traces of his climax between your thighs. He pulls up his pants previously bunched in his ankles and arranges the rest of his durumagi, removing any possible evidence of your quick fuck.

“Council meeting went bad?” you asked, rubbing at your numbing forearms due to your husband’s forceful movements against the table he’d fucked you against. Seokjin briefly throws a sheepish look your way, guessing  you have finally figured out his nasty antics of de-stressing, but his beautiful face turns serious as he once again reminded of his responsibilities as king.

“Well with Minseok’s recent death, the dried-up lands in the far east, and an uprising rebellion in the south, I can’t say the meeting went particularly…peaceful,” Seokjin heaves a sigh and rests his hands on his knees.

Minseok was a trusted royal guard, serving Seokjin’s family for nearly all his life and had perished due to an attack during a visit to the southern city. While Minseok’s death caused a great loss in the palace, his blood symbolized the initial step towards an uprising, spurring on the southern troops even further.

With your back facing him, you felt remorseful as your hand subconsciously reaches for the south’s emblem given by your father, hidden beneath the thick collar of your hanbok – a harsh reminder that you were once from the southern palace – and yet you couldn’t do anything to help your king.

It was one thing being only half royalty and another being the only heir to the throne. After multiple tries, prayer movements, and endless offerings, the real queen of the south proved to be infertile and could not bear a child for the king. In the past however, a childless monarch proved to be an advantage to those who attempted to overthrow the throne. Hence your biological father, the king, decided that he needed to have an heir at once. However, the only other lady your dad would trust with such great feat is the head court lady, your mom, who became the king’s only concubine – ergo, your coming into this world.

Your father acknowledged you as his daughter the moment he heard your first cry as a newborn, much to the queen’s repressed opposition. She knew she had no other choice but to give in to your father’s recognition, but her display of hatred for you never stopped at your birth. Your life was an endless tale of narrow escapes from her atrocities.

On the bright side, you maintained a healthy relationship with your father, he taught you how to read and write, he showed you the ins and outs of the city, gave you your first archery lesson, and even taught you a thing or two about politics and diplomacy. You were well-founded for a girl your age, considering that women in your society were only perceived to be bearers of children and raisers of the young instead of hitting sack targets on a moving horse and being deployed on diplomatic affairs.

Life was almost perfect if it weren’t for your very promising antagonist of stepmother. The rest of the palace, your father included, regarded her as your stepmother, but she never came close to being a motherly figure in your life. Quite frankly, you knew she wanted you dead even before you grew a heart – probably the only reason why she wasn’t blessed with a child. The two-headed snake deserved it.

Unfortunately, you weren’t the only victim of her cruelty. As you grew up, you knew she was bound to get worse, it didn’t come as much of a shock when you heard of her plans to murder your father and your biological mother. What you didn’t expect though that the breakfast you’d shared with your father that morning was the last time you’ll ever see him.

You fled from the palace that night, bumping into Seokjin as you exited the gates of the palace. He recognizes your face from previous council meetings and have been acquainted with each other as members of royalty, but he’s never seen you in such a state of distress. Before he could ask you why you were running away from the palace at such hour, you mounted his horse and pleaded to him to take you anywhere else but your home – your previous home.

One look at your tear-stained face was all he needed and he turned his horse around, despite questioning looks he got from his guards. He had brought you back to the capital and took you in the palace. Soon friends turned to lovers and the rest is history.

Seokjin notices your silence and he’s come up from the edge of the bed to envelop you in his arms. “A frown isn’t fitting for a queen,” he takes your chin between his fingers and turns your face towards him. “What’s wrong, love?” he asks, confused by the frown drawn upon your face.

“I just…” you start off, but when your fingers find the cold metal of the necklace, you fall silent again. Seokjin sighs as he finally catches on your despondence and gives you a tighter hug and a fleeting kiss on the forehead.

For once in a long time, you felt like it was just the two of you again alone in the room, alone in the world. Just two lovers, no treacherous stepmothers, no responsibilities, no nation to take care of. Your mind races back to the memories of you sneaking out of the palace to your agreed rendezvous or walking to your secret garden to talk about your daily endeavors. Seokjin made this cruel world more bearable and you will always be eternally grateful for that. He would always shower you with the greatest support and understanding, fully aware of what you have been deprived of during your childhood.

Seokjin on one hand feels equally thankful to have you enter his life, to have you as his wife. He had always admired your knowledge in various things and he frequently shows fondness for your wit in a very remarkable way – like that one time he had brought you to a council meeting to share your ideas (a taboo in the culture – seeing as women weren’t cut in making political decisions) and called an advisor an imbecile for suggesting a huge increase in taxes when a fourth of the city was struggling with famine. Needless to say, Seokjin found the sight of you standing up to his advisors more than arousing so he had sent everyone home at once and two minutes after everyone had left, he already had you bent over his desk, fucking you into oblivion.

Your husband leaves shortly after taking a few scrolls from the shelves before inviting you to dinner, winking as he leaves your room, telling you that he has specially requested the kitchen to cook your favorite dish for dinner tonight. You take a bath during your husband’s absence, indulging yourself in a milk bath, while the servants scrub at your back and arms. As a child, the southern palace only afforded you cold baths with the heat in the south constantly unbearable but mainly because the queen was adamant on treating you badly. She’d made sure you regularly bathe in cold ones, even worse during the winter. You couldn’t keep count of the times you had to be rescued back to life by the court ladies after nearly shivering to death.

The servants take their leave as they’ve scrubbed most of the expanse of skin you’ve exposed for them to exfoliate and you sink further into the pool, a variety of petals floating around and about as you create ripples with your hands.

“My Queen,” a court lady bows her head as she enters your chambers. “The King requests your presence for the inauguration of the new king’s guards,” she informs, not meeting your eyes as you wear your undergarments. You give her a hum of approval and wait for the servants to finish braiding your hair so you could accompany your husband during the ceremony.

You can feel the pebbles under your shoes move with the steady beat of the drums. The inauguration was supposed to be held a few more months later but because of the death of Minseok, the ceremony had to be moved to an earlier date. You were about to turn the corner when the someone in torn, ragged clothes ran in front of you, your guards ushering you backwards to protection. With two watchmen already following the man, two from your group follow to see what the scurry is all about.

The remaining guards that are with you lead you towards the field quickly to evade any further commotion. When you reach where Seokjin is situated, he acknowledges you briefly, worry swimming in his eyes. You place a comforting hand on his to assure him that there is nothing to be worried about. Once you have settled in your seat, a guard comes up to Seokjin’s side and the drums stop. “Your Royal Highnesses, King Seokjin and the Queen.” Your husband raises a hand to acknowledge the crowd surrounding the field, all present to witness the ceremony.

“Let the inauguration of the new royal guards begin.”

The drums fall into a steady rhythm once again, men clad in red and white silk uniforms pile in groups of twenty. Applause falls within the crowd, hands busy clapping for the newly inducted protectors of the palace. You see a few girls displaying themselves by the corner where the guards enter the field. They mask their flirtatious looks under the guise of modesty, covering their powdered faces with fans while sending coquettish looks to the guards.

Seokjin lets out a chuckle when he follows your line of vision and you reply deftly “I don’t blame them. I’d definitely do the same when you’re in your uniform.” You try your best not to wink at your husband especially at a public gathering like this, but your witty effort to get him to stop judging you has proved to be effective. You know he is most likely going to punish you about this tonight and the idea already has you squirming in your seat.

“My King, may I present to you the new captain of the royal guards, Jung Jungkook of the east.” A man from the first row steps forward. “My King, my Queen.” He acknowledges your presence, bowing from the waist. Jung Jungkook drops to the ground, his weight resting on one leg. He draws his sword, plunges it to the ground – the sound of metal slicing through the soil ringing throughout the field. “I am Jung Jungkook from the Jung clan of the east. My father has served the royal family for many years and has perished terribly during the attack of the South. I am here to restore the honor to my family by serving your highness, to serve the capital, and to avenge my late father.” His head is hung low, yet he is breathing heavily, the weight of his emotions too heavy on his shoulders.

Seokjin leans forward, “Your father has fought well and there is no greater honor than to die for the safety of your countrymen. I am glad he has a son to continue the legacy of your family. Stand, Jung Jungkook, for I know your father’s soul is now at peace.” The man complies and speaks, “Long live King Seokjin, long live the capital!” The rest of the two hundred men follow suit. The citizens join in on the cheering but your eyes linger on the new captain and the faded scar on his left cheek.

The turmoil in the south has worsened during the past few weeks. You rarely see your husband nowadays, constantly trapped for hours on end inside the four walls of his office. You can feel the pressure of being the king taking its toll on him. The servants tell you that he barely touches his food and that your husband also always comes in late at night and leaves early at dawn to work. It’s bringing you great worry that Seokjin couldn’t properly take care of himself nowadays.  

Your attempts to aide him during these stressful times prove to be futile, especially with his damned advisors who keep on barring you from entering his office or attending the council meetings. It is believed anyways that the queen only tends to matters of the royal household and that women have no right to give counsel. Unfortunately for them, you are no ordinary queen nor are you just a queen. You are also the wife of your beloved husband and a handful of stubborn councilmen has never stopped you before.

While the royal advisors are busy wasting too much time on a singular issue, you went out on your own to witness the effects of the famine of the east. Most of the crops that were delivered throughout the country was produced in the east because of their healthy soil and the waters surrounding the city. When a month has passed and there were still no signs of rain in the east, you know this was going to cause a huge problem and eventually another predicament for Seokjin. You had lived long enough in the onerous south to witness problems like this turn into bigger ones.

You have made arrangements to visit the city and so far, your plan going smoothly as planned. You manage to sneak out of the royal seamstress’ room after paying her a decent amount of silver coins for a commoner’s dress. It’s getting late and your husband will be returning to your room soon so you trudge back a little faster just to make it in time. When you reach the back door to your room, you see two guards lounging stand up abruptly at your presence. “M-my q-queen,” he bows, not meeting your eyes. “It’s alright. Just don’t tell anybody.”

Seokjin enters the room just when you’re stood in front of the mirror, hands removing the pins from your head. He slides the wooden door gently and sends you a small smile through the reflection on your mirror. “Why don’t I help you with that?” You gently decline his offer, not wanting to bother your exhausted king with any more chores. It’s unfair how he is still impeccably handsome even with the weariness evident on his face. Seokjin still insists though, claiming that a king’s functions should not be an excuse to escape those of a husband’s. “And besides, I ought to know how to do this if we’ll have a daughter in the future.” The statement was supposed to be a genuine shot at what the future might hold but your body’s treacherous response is far from the innocence of Seokjin’s statement.

Just the thought of it has heat pooling in your abdomen. You haven’t had enough time in your hands to spend time to think about things like that, Seokjin being a newly-crowned king, more so as a newly-wedded couple.

Your husband notices the deep breath you take, his eyes slowly getting darker by the second. He takes the last golden pin from your braids, letting your hair fall into loose waves. You feel relieved when the strain on your scalp melts away in seconds – something that you should’ve been used to by now, considering that you have been royalty all your life, but nothing beats that fresh wave of relief when you free your hair from all the pins and ribbons. That’s why when Seokjin cards his fingers through your locks, you feel the rising of the small hairs at the back of your neck, such mundane action bordering on sensual.

He does this a few more times in silence, just combing through your hair gently, deeming that seeing you fall into such comfort like this is enough for him. His chaste intentions though are all thrown aside when you lean against him, your undone hanbok falls from your shoulder, exposing the skin there in all its glory. Your husband takes all your hair and transfers it on your left shoulder and you tilt your head to the same side, giving him space where he could pepper all his kisses on.

He murmurs sweet nothings against your skin while sending fleeting kisses from your ear’s helix, to your cheek, you jawline then down to your shoulders. “Little you and me running around…” he murmurs while pushing the rest of your hanbok off your body. It doesn’t take much effort, the silken cloth sliding down easily and now you’re just left in your undergarments.

“Would you like that, my queen?” Seokjin asks, fingers thumbing the ribbon that’s keeping together the last layer of clothing you have on. It takes only one breathy ‘yes’ from you and the cloth covering your intimacies falls altogether, leaving no trace of modesty.

He cups both breasts in each palm, squeezing and kneading the flesh. Your nipples are firm, already hardened by the worshipping kisses he places all over. He trails a finger along your jaw, turning your face toward him. His lips meet yours, plump lips pressing gently against your own. When you figure he’s about to pull away, he grips your ass and you gasp, pushing his tongue into your mouth.

You moan into the kiss, your heart thudding hard against your ribcage. It’s been too long since you had seen your husband so… sensual. Usually, you’re both in a rush with the sole intent of getting some release but tonight, it seems as if Seokjin is determined to take his time in claiming all of you in the most intimate of ways, slowly but surely like it’s the last night of his life.

Seokjin savors every moan, every whimper as his deft fingers roam your body. He loves every curve and dip; how soft and taut it is at the same time. The milk baths you’ve always indulged in and your younger days of archery and horse riding had definitely done you good. He tries to etch them all into his memory though he knows flashes of images of you in his brain could never give justice to the reality of having you in his arms.

His fingers reach your cunt and he cups it, making you lean further against him for support. You feel the fine sheen of sweat of his torso on his back and for a moment you wonder how he’s managed to take his to take his top off without taking a hand off you. He pulls you away from your thoughts when he tugs you closer to him, shamelessly grinding his erection against your ass. He finds your clit easily through memory, rubbing the sensitive nub, fingers moving slowly in circular motions.

“S-seokjin please,” you beg, knowing you’re nearly there but still so far away, far too greedy to orgasm on clitoral stimulation alone. You needed him inside you. Now. “Speak up, my love,” he orders, shallowly dipping a finger in your cunt and withdrawing it just as quick. “Please. Y-you. Need y- “You’re rendered breathless by his teasing, your hand traveling to tug at his hair. “You want me to put a baby in you, hmm?” He finally pushes a finger in. “You’d love that don’t you? Having to carry the next heir to the throne inside you?” Another finger breaches you, Seokjin chuckling when you let out a loud gasp.

He nips at the shell of your ear, reminding you of the presence of the guards outside in a low whisper. Your hand instantly moves to cover your mouth but Seokjin grabs you by the wrists. “Who told you to cover your mouth, hmm? We both know you want the whole palace to hear how filthy their queen is.” Seokjin must admit, the whole idea is just as pleasing to him as it is to you. You were practically squelching when his fingers quicken the pace, your orgasm coming to you at breakneck speed. The feeling of his fingers toying with your cunt too much for you to handle that you are unable to stop your lover’s name fall like a prayer on your lips. Your whole body trembles in his grip, legs threatening to give in. A whimper escapes you when he pulls his fingers out, sending him a glare through the mirror. You were so, so close.

“My love, as much as I enjoy seeing you wrecked under my touch through the mirror, we have to take this to the bed.” He gives you a chaste kiss on the cheek and tugs at your arm, but you stand your ground. You wag a finger at him, ‘tsk’-ing at his impatience. Not until he’d have a taste of his own medicine.

You let your finger trail along his torso, tracing the outlines of his abdominals. Imitating your husband’s  earlier torturous ministrations, you take your time with him, reveling in how much you’ve affected him – how his breathing is getting more labored by the second. You run a finger along the length of his shaft still covered by his pants. He’s already hard, you reckon, feeling it slightly twitch under your touch.

Slowly, you lower down on your knees, tugging his pants down along with your descent. The sight of his cock makes you wet your lips, too eager to please. “My love, you don’t have to,” his hands hover yours that are resting on his hips. It’s not that he didn’t want your mouth on his cock but he just wanted to drawl out this evening for as long as he could. Frankly, he couldn’t afford to release in your mouth without having felt your velvety walls first.

“I want to.” Not wanting to wait any longer, you tentatively place a kiss on the bulbous head, making Seokjin gasp at the contact. You get bolder, gathering some of the precum that has gathered on the tip spreading it along his length your tongue. Using the armrests as leverage, you straighten your back and finally take him in your mouth. Seokjin deems he’ll never get used to this feeling. You vaguely hear him groan above you, but you’re far too busy pushing his shaft farther inside.

You briefly gaze at him through your eyelashes. It’s unfair, you reckon, that even when your lamps cast this golden glow to only one side of his face, he’s just as ethereal as under the light of day. You take him in your mouth as far as you can. When Seokjin throws his head back in pleasure with his wonderfully thick neck on display only for you to see, it ignites a carnal desire in you, so you push yourself further. When he finally hits the back of your throat, you swallow and your husband chokes on air, his knuckles turning white as he grips onto the armrests.

It’s an arduous task, having to try and take control of your breathing as you pleasure your husband. You move up then down slowly until you find a steady rhythm. You feel your eyes water with the pace until his chest starts heaving and you know he’s nearing his climax. “N-no. P-please,” your husband pleads, each word brokenly spoken. Tugging at your hair slightly, he pries you off his mouth, releasing a sigh of relief when you take your mouth off him.

“Bed now.” With your knees still sore from kneeling too long, it takes you some time to get up. Impatiently, the moment you get one of your knees off the ground he hooks his arm below them and lifts you off the ground, carrying you bridal style. “Stop trying to stall.” Seokjin huffs, his lips forming a pout. You giggle at his cuteness, of course even at a time like this, he manages to make you smile like a kid with candy.

He lays you gently on the bed, your hair fanning out on the pillows. He caresses your face with the pads of his fingers and you find yourself leaning against his touch. “My queen,” he sighs, “Your beauty is unrivaled. Truly.” Your lips meet when he closes the distance between the two of you. He stays like that for a moment, his swollen lips placed on top of yours until he swipes his tongue against your bottom lip. You fervently kiss each other, feeling yourself slowly getting lost in the kiss. When he pulls away, your eyes pry open again only to see your husband’s teary ones.

“Seokjin-ie, are you okay? What’s the matter?” He shakes his head, replying, “You’re just so beautiful. I’m the luckiest man alive to have you as my wife.” Your face crumples at his words and you give him another kiss. “How could you possibly think that when so many other women who vying for my position right now? Both literally and figuratively. You’re glad when you get a chuckle out of Seokjin. “As much as I want to argue about who’s the luckier one, I have a more pressing problem. And it’s getting really painful, so please…” His lips close in on one of your breasts, your hand flying up to pull at his hair.

Once again, you’re a moaning mess beneath Seokjin. You’re whining, begging for more than the assault he’s doing on your breasts. He doesn’t waste time in complying with your whims, your legs spreading apart when he shifts his position above you. He braces himself on one arm and you hiss as he swipes against your folds, taking some of the wetness on his palm and rubbing it onto his cock. When he pushes slowly against your entrance, you whimper as he gradually sinks into you. Gods, you don’t think you’ll ever get used to this, to him.

When he’s fully sank into you to the hilt, he pauses, knowing that you’ll need a moment for the pain to subside into pleasure. Seokjin places kisses your shoulders as he waits for you to adjust to the feeling. You push your hips up, encouraging him to move. Dragging his cock out slowly, he pushes back down just as languidly. “Jin, please,” you beseech, goading him to go faster. The moment the word escapes your lips, Seokjin begins pounding into you relentlessly. He hastily places a pillow under your hips to angle yours better. The next thrust he gets in has you mewling, each stroke easily rubbing up against your g-spot.

Your thighs begin quivering, every fiber of your body ablaze with each plunge of your husband’s hips. Seokjin feels your impending orgasm with your cunt beginning to pulsate against his cock, and he moves one of his hands between your thighs and starts to toy vigorously with your clit.

“Fuck!” you scream, fisting the sheets that now haphazardly dangling from the bed. Your high hits you so strong, your pussy tightening, clamping around Seokjin. His thrusts begin to stutter as you continue to milk his cock. With one final push, Seokjin cums, releasing ropes of cum inside you. He stays on top of you for a moment, too exhausted and worn out to move an inch. Also, because he wishes that this time it finally gets you pregnant, that your earlier inclination to the idea of having a baby inside you is as enthralling as it is to him.

Seokjin finally pulls out of you with a small grunt, elbows that have been holding up his weight finally give in, breathing heavily as he falls to your side.

He hadn’t meant to stay this long.

In fact, when he heard the first moan that fell from your lips, he had sent the rest of the guards to go on patrol to give you and your husband the much-needed privacy. He had intended to keep lookout from the front of the hanok. With one more corridor to clear out before leaving, he took his steps with caution, knowing that this passage was the one next to your room. The palace’s wooden walls will never be thick enough to hide the sounds of pleasure. His ears are already ringing with the faint sound of your moans but there was one section where the sweet sound was most audible. The door to your room was slightly open, the light from your lamps passing through the narrow slit.

He tries to push away the temptation, reminding himself that he has other duties to attend to… right?

Surely, the rebellious troops would have been subdued before they reach the palace…right?

Ultimately, he can’t leave with you sounding so desperate and broken…right?

He knew his resolve was breaking with every step he took nearer towards the thin beam of light.  He takes the final step with bated breath, wincing when the wood creaks under his weight. He lets out a shaky exhale when he finally peeks through the crevice. Your bed is situated right across from where he’s watching – the whole scene like a live show from a festival. He knows this is wrong, that what happens inside the four walls of your chambers is none of his business but when he sees the king flip you and take you from behind, his lips part, suddenly out of breath like he’s the one pounding into you.  

The voyeur continues to watch the whole spectacle with an unrelenting gaze. He watches the unsuspecting royals get lost in their own world while he lingers in perverse amusement. The strain in his silk pants is getting painful, uncomfortable too when the tip of his cock brushes against the wet patch on the cloth. He reproaches himself for his lack of manners tonight but if this mischief shall reward him with a release later on, then he shall remain here, unperturbed.

Moments later Seokjin’s hips stutter and he feels his own hands lose rhythm as well. Your loud moans fill the room as you reach your high, your husband following. His hand moves faster than before, white spurts of cum coating his hand not long after. He shivers when he pulls his pants back up, the silk proving to be too much for the sensitive tip of his cock. When his eyes revert back to the crevice, he sees Seokjin trace patterns on your back while the both of you murmur softly in each other’s arms. Your husband gives you a chaste kiss, lips closing in on the shell on your ear as he whispers something that makes you giggle. He takes this as his cue to leave, hoping that no other guard has lingered around long enough to see him leave the house.

Fortunately, no one sees the dazed captain walk out of the hanok in the middle of the night.

You are momentarily awakened from a fleeting kiss placed on your cheek, the back of your hands rubbing at your drooping eyelids. Body still sore from your activities last night, you blindly reach out for the blue cloak in front of you as you call out your husband’s name. “I hadn’t meant to wake you from your slumber, my love. Go back to sleep.” He strokes your hair gently while humming a soft melody to lull you back to your slumber.

There’s an ache on his chest when he watches sleep take over you once more, soft snores escaping your lips. Seokjin wonders if he would get to see you this peaceful one more time. You shift in your sleep, the blanket revealing purplish marks littered across your chest. Normally, this would’ve sent all his blood pumping south but with the emotion weighing on his shoulders, all he’s thinking about is engraving your beauty into his memory.

The present disposition in his hands had monopolized his time and because of this he knew he had been neglecting you these past few weeks. He wasn’t able to check up on you, ask how your day went, or even join supper, hence your intimacies last night.  Although your husband knew that after all these years together, you were never one to demand affection because you were well aware of his duties as ruler of a nation. Funnily enough, it was he who yearned for that most of time, while you would remind him of his obligations with a chortling intonation.

Usually, you would push him away when he tries to lavish you with kisses even with the guards and court ladies present, but he knew deep inside that you secretly enjoyed them, cheeks turning a rosy red every time he teases you about it. Albeit being born into royalty, you were treated like a slave by your own step-mother so Seokjin knew it would have taken some time before he had successfully lured you out of your shell. And he knew he had forever to show you the love that you were deprived of. Or did he now?

He recalls the time you had both met in your secret rendezvous. It was a garden exhibiting the most gorgeous fusion of pink and green, cultivated to perfection by Seokjin himself and of course with the help of a few chosen gardeners. Included in the garden was a narrow passage with water directly flowing from the Gaeun River. The secluded site was a testament to Seokjin’s love for the color pink. Flowers of all shades of blush are scattered among the lush green grass, from Azaleas to Carnations to Peonies. ‘Most are from foreign lands’ he informs, carefully plucking out a flower and handing one to you. A blush instantly colors your cheeks at this and Seokjin finds it most endearing, unable to resist teasing you. “You seem to blend in just fine with my flowers,” he observes, poking your cheeks, “but you stand out the most.”

Amongst the rosy hued shrubs and mossy rocks, on a small slope stood a singular cherry blossom tree - your most favorite feature of all. Cherry blossoms had always been known to symbolize the transience of life and rebirth. True to your ancestors’ beliefs, this special tree was tangible proof of the metaphor. The tree had witnessed quite a number of your most cherished moments in life. This was where Seokjin brought you when you broke down into tears after escaping the southern palace, this was where he first pecked you on the cheek, and this same tree witnessed Seokjin’s humble request for your hand in marriage.

Regret weighs heavily on him. You were the only constant reality he had in this capricious life. You had been nothing but perfect, always by his side no matter what. Having to bid his farewell like this broke his heart but if he properly did so, it would probably break his heart all the more. Your husband had already made up his mind – he is to leave for the South before the dawn breaks.

Seokjin was hanging onto that small sliver of hope that a discussion on the dilemma may change their minds. The situation in the southern city had inevitably worsened but he had to try. He could be very persuasive if he wanted to, sure, but you always knew it wouldn’t work. Not by a long shot. You made sure to remind him of that fact. That’s why you never supported the idea of visiting the city especially at a time of agitation like this. The southerners are men honed by war and they are not called the nation’s keepers for nothing. They are willing to sacrifice lives rather than heed diplomacy. It had proved beneficial in the past when foreigners wanted to colonize your country, but with a turmoil conceived by its own countrymen, these people are all the more fueled to fight for what they believe in.

Then again, this was his decision. He had to try. He was willing to risk everything for his nation, even if it meant that this might be the last time he’ll be seeing your face. He wanted to be selfish, just this once, to give in to the matters of the heart, but he knew he couldn’t. If he did, then all his parent’s teachings would have been for nothing. Being born into royalty couldn’t have meant anything. Being the king then would lose its meaning.

With tears brimming at the corner of his eyes, he retrieves a scroll, his brush, and an ink block. ‘This all seems unreal’, Seokjin reels. He only takes out the three when he’s making a new proclamation or with pronouncements usually related to the duties of a king. You two could only stay apart for so long and at the end of the day you’d always find yourselves each other’s arms. Not once did he imagine having to write you a letter, let alone one bidding you farewell.

Patches of tears soften different spots on the previously coarse scroll. With dawn fast approaching, Seokjin ends his letter with a lingering kiss on the paper. He retrieves a flower that he’s plucked from the garden and places it together with the scroll he’s left on the bedside table. Seokjin kisses you on the cheek one last time, “Goodbye, my queen.”

© joontier 2020. All rights reserved. 

[urmomification]

SWAG ANOTHER DREAM SMP AU FIC IDEA THAT ILL NEVER WRITE POG

this is a very long post please im so sorry my brain it just

(tw for like slight possession n shit)

(sorry its all jumbled i write all of these in discord to my friend and copy paste them here please if u have questions ask me im always willing to talk abt this shit please it haunts me)

(context: i saw a tiktok abt the hc that both dream and techno are gods of some sort bc theyre mentioned in the tales of the smp by karl a time traveller and my brain just ran w it)

going back to the techno and dream are gods thing right so dream is a vessel for the god dream xd (??? work in progress youll know what im talking about at some point its really funny tho uve def seen clips of it) and he was possessed?? by the god after the server started (when he started going from super friendly with everyone to control/power hungry) when he started sacrificing everything for power so no one could have power over him? that was the god making him do it bc the god was terrified of not being in control since theyd lost it all to techno in their past. thats why we never see dream and techno fight and why we see dream extend help and support to him at times as well as respecting his boundaries and such bc theyre scared of techno (again w the best of 10 duel reference, techno killed the god in a past life which is why the god has been forced to use a human vessel to get anything done on the mortal plane) but when something that powerful spends pretty much any amount of time in something mortal and mundane like a person, the host body starts to change (hence the mask) i like to think that the god would be akin to that of a biblically correct angel?? like the ones w multiple eyes n shit yk so after time things start to happen to normal dreams body he gets extra sets of eyes and he gets taller and overall his body seems just Too Small for whatevers inside of him and thats why he (hc) started wearing the mask in the first place he knew something was wrong w him but he didnt want anyone to know even tho they would most likely help him he was ashamed that he was different in the first place so he started wearing the mask once the other eyes showed up. and i think that the god would talk to dream similarly to how technos voices work yk? except its just the one voice instead of many many small ones. and again with the mask thing when he lost to tommy and they took him in, part of his mask broke to the point where u could see just a bit of the right side of his face but enough to see that it Wasnt Right there were two eyes where there shouldve been one and spots on his cheeks bright enough to resemble stars and where the color of his pupil should have been is just a sickeningly neon green with nothing else behind it. so they let him keep the mask even tho they already know something is wrong but it clearly makes him Very Distressed when asked to remove the mask or told to give it up. blah blah blah god harassing its host bc it got them caught and thrown in a prison and dream goes ever so slightly insane having to share a mind and body with a literal ancient god w a vendetta against everything hes built whos forced him to sacrifice everything he loved and cared for out of fear yk the usual prison shit and then techno comes a long and breaks him out or whatever but on their way back to his house he drops a really cryptic line abt how 'its nice to see an old friend again' and 'i thought i got rid of u for good last time' and dream is just ???? what are u talking about?? weve never been friends and youve never gotten rid of me? what. until techno spins around and just 'im not talking to you im talking to the thing inside u' or whatever and dreams eyes flash some brilliant gold or sumn and boom this is ur fellow god speaking how may i help you and dream xd (that feels so wrong to say but) and techno bond or well ig just talk abt how the past centuries have gone and ig while xd is fronting (??? i think itd kinda be like DID in a sense w multiple people being able to front yk?) dream is in a sort of semi conscious state but still hears everything going on around his own body until hes thrown back into the drivers seat (i think that xd would only be able to front for short periods of time due to the vessel n shit that makes sense right) and hes so confused someone please help him hes just a dude who happened to get possessed by a god someone help him so when they finally get back to technos house he sits dream down and explains the best he can without literally melting dreams brain. which would also play into the 'technoblade never dies' bc hes. literally a god. mortals cant kill him unless they have idk some sort of super weapon idk and blah blah blah xd gets what they want and finally has the ability to leave finally leaving dream literally the shell of a man with no home friends materials or anything with techno to basically take care of him until he reaches some semblance of stability again (which would take ages, realistically (wdym realistically) going from normal, to a god sharing a body with you and speaking in you brain living as a single being together and hearing their thoughts, to back to normal but with all the memories of what you did and what they made you do and also no more god speaking in ur head it would take a hot sec to recover from) so he lives with techno (whos, not to mention, another god) for a while until he can fend for himself again and after a good year or so passes and no one hears from dream they start to look for him and see what happened bc he went from the biggest threat on the server to just. gone. no one knows where he went after whatever he did and they want closure. is he dead?? who knows. so george and sap set out looking for him and decide to ask techno for help since hes good w directions n shit also he was the last person to see dream alive so he might have an idea of where he is and they walk up to his house and knock on his door and techno opens it and just stares at them he knows who they are, dreams talked about them before but hes never met them really so he talks to them, getting through the polite hellos how are yous before sap finally asks 'do you know what happened to dream? no one knows where he went and we just want closure' techno huffs and tells them to wait there he (this is the basement door im using his arctic tundra house in my head) goes down the ladder to the second basement, they can hear him talking to multiple people (ranboo phil dream) but cant tell who everyone is before coming back up the ladder, back to the door. he tells them to wait outside he needs to get something first (its dream hes getting dream) theyre standing out by carls stable when the door creaks open and dream steps out looking around for who the fuck could possibly be looking for them he betrayed everyone and most people thought he was dead who could possibly be here asking for himself and not ranboo or philza and when he steps out, his green hoodie (memento made by ranboo to help him cope w the loss of the voice in his head) catching the morning light off the snow and he was happy and then he saw them standing by the house hed grown to call home at least for now he breaks. he missed them so so much it hurt. he never expected to see them ever again much less them come looking to see him but hes scared he realizes he doesnt know what to say there is nothing to say he fucked them all over he ruined everything and then hes being hugged. they missed him too. they dont forgive him jsut yet but they missed him and thats enough for him right now. the three of them stand there just being in each others presences and techno creaks the door open to make sure they arent trying to kill each other and sighs and leans against the frame smiling. hes happy again and thats the best he can do for him. he invites them all in and offers to explain everything to them to try and ease the blame off of dream bc in all honesty it was his fault but xd made it far far worse that it should have been (a bit late but foot note abt xd i think that they would be an idle god until someone w intense feelings of powerlessness and insecurity like awoke them from their techno induced slumber and inhabited dream to help him fulfill his desires for power and control) and by the time he and dream are finished its late at night and sap and george are ??? so u were possessed by a god who techno killed centuries ago in a duel and it amplified ur feelings of insecurity and ur thirst for control to the point of isolating urself from us and destroying everything everyone cared abt?? also technos an ancient god who lusts for bloodshed but also makes turtle farms in his free time?? are we getting this right????? and techno and dream are just yea thats abt it glad this all made sense then they all go to bed (its a small house dream has a lil shack like ranboos and sap and george somehow slept over there for the night) and in the morning sap and george leave again but promise to come back, they still arent ready to forgive and forget bc even tho it wasnt all his fault his emotions getting away from him is what caused this all in the first place so they do need time to process now that they know he isnt dead and dream continues to live near techno in almost full independence and eventually moves back with his friends even tho many still hate him. hes happy and for now thats enough. another foot note; even after xd leaves his being, he still has the extra eyes, glowy freckles n is xtra tall n shit that cant just be reversed but now that hes himself again these things take their tolls on human bodies so i think hed have something at least similar to arthritis bc of how his bones were literally manipulated bc of how strong ethereal magic or whatever is. so he would still wear the broken mask but he takes it off now and is ok with it being off hes working on getting better now that hes himself again and everyone living w/by techno is helping him with that. also i think that he would get blinks of xd's memories like from when techno was killing them and have sumn like ptsd panic attacks from it and techno feels super guilty abt it but theres literally nothing he can do except apologize and after the first few times dream stopped him from apologizing bc it is his fault but he didnt do it to him so it doesnt matter to dream at least and they live in pretty much harmony until dream finally moves back in w george and sap the end. he also started wearing the mask in the first place bc of the extra eyes but he played it off as being uncomfortable around new people and not wanting them to know what he looked like until he trusted them (bc that literally makes sense irl how funky is that) so sap and george never pushed him and when they caught him without it on on the rare occasion they wouldnt pressure him to leave it off or anything even tho they already knew what he looked like (when they respect ur boundaries </3) they just assumed that it was insecurity (it was but also mans had like 3 eyes so) and just left him alone

[silviartemis]

Mental Health Headcanons

This made me sweat blood

Will I do the other half of the kids? Yup. Someday.

TW: this is not graphic or unnecessarily heavy but is still about mental health struggles so if it’s a Bad day take care of yourself. (mentions of: depression, anxiety, ptsd, self destructive tendencies, manic episodes, abuse, dissociation, mentions of death, implied ableism.)

These are headcanons, some is based on canon, some is based on ideas floating around the fandom, I straight up invented other stuff and would love to know what you think and your own headcanons about this topic!

Everything under the cut <3 Also, Canon Era

Katherine had to deal with her mother's depression, which made her emotionally and often physically unavailable most of her life. Thankfully other people (Hannah we love you) stepped in to fill that void somewhat so she didn't suffer as much as she could have but naturally she didn't come out of it completely fine. She has a hard time recognizing and taking care of her own emotional needs and has a very unstable self esteem, sometimes leading to anxious episodes and burn out cause she works herself ragged trying to be "seen" by other people. Has a very strong will though and has learned over time to stop, take a breath, and analyze what she’s feeling.

 The Jacobs household is a loving, caring space and that is so important for psychological well being. It’s not very big on communication or feelings though so the Jacob children learned to express themselves mostly through logic and reason, or through their bodies.

·        When David was little he showed the first signs of anxiety by having horrible stomach aches whenever he had to leave home to go to school or temple and it’s still one of the main symptoms he gets whenever he struggles with it. Now he still has a difficult time in new social contexts but he more prominently worries about his role and responsibilities in the family, or the future. It can be intense at times but when he was younger his mom helped him learn how to handle it. Since he’s very methodical he has set specific strategies to cope with different stressors (and he’ll gladly teach them to whoever needs it).He still has crisis when the situation is particularly dire but with a little grounding from a friend or his sister he can calm down before he really starts spiraling.

·        Sarah is mostly fine. She has stress and responsibilities and frustrations like everyone but seldom gests overwhelmed. When she does, and straight up gets a fever, it's because she refused to acknowledge the emotional or physical toll something had on her, insisted on analyzing and acting following only logic and pragmatism, and ended up ignoring the signs of struggle her mind or her body were showing. She is fine with some rest and care from her parents and siblings.

·        Les is a child. A lucky one, because he's surrounded by people that love him and take care of him. He's a very smart kid, like his sister he tends to focus more on the pragmatic side of things. He's less naïve now than he was when he first met the newsies but that only gave him more conscience of the world and more compassion.  Will he struggle in his life? Of course, who doesn't. But he has one of the best support systems ever so he'll be alright.

Jack has been self-sufficient most of his life, even when he had his father around. After that, still little more than a child, he had to provide for other kids too. That affected his emotional development: he neutralizes his negative emotions by creating an escape from reality, an image to reach for to keep from succumbing to anxiety and depression. While this is functional to survival, it leaves him even more vulnerable when those emotions inevitably blow up. His multiple stays at the Refuge scarred him more than he’ll ever admit and left him struggling with some PTSD symptoms he carefully hides. His newsies family (the oldest at least) notice anyway and subtly help him calm down. Their love, shown through little gestures and kind touches (he’s very tactile), keeps him grounded. He has a very strong sense of self that helps him get through even the worst times without losing his core. Will put his own needs on hold to care for his family but is not self-destructive, he knows his limits and how far he can push himself before he’s no longer helping.

 Crutchie struggles with self worth and self efficacy, tries to mask it by being as independent as possible, even refusing help he actually needs. His family died during the polio epidemic he got sick in but he was very young and he almost doesn't remember them (removal of traumatic memories). Uses his sunny personality to hide his struggles and the fears and discouragement that come with them. He spent many years in an orphanage where he was treated like his being alive was terribly inconvenient so when he feels overwhelmed he seeks isolation because he doesn’t want to be a burden. His experience at the Refuge, albeit horrible, was thankfully very brief so it didn't scar him too much, he has nightmares sometimes but can be comforted easily by his found family.

 Race has what we'd now call adhd, he’s actually quite good ad handling it and channeling his erratic energy in making his and other kids lives easier. Except when he keeps purposefully distracting himself from taking care of his needs and pushes himself to the edge of physical collapse either to provide for the younger kids or to fulfill the self destructive tendencies that pop up in his worse days. He may appear very easygoing but has trust issues bigger than the Brooklyn Bridge, cause after only a few months in America his mother left him on the steps of the church and walked away. Incredibly loyal to the ones that eventually gain his trust. Puts on a shield of humor to protect the more vulnerable parts of himself. He has had one of the roughest stays at the refuge (along with Jack) that left him with some post traumatic stress symptoms like nightmares and flashbacks. Very tactile, the feeling of warmth from a hug will calm him down in his worst moments. One of his biggest strengths is his resilience, he will bend but won’t break.

 Albert is a victim of abuse. Many other kids are, in one way or another, but usually they come from a very bad situation that they had to flee as soon as they could. Albert's abuse built up over a very long time, keeping him trapped in a home that he felt guilty leaving and slowly numbed him to his own pain. He went from a loving family, through a terrible loss, to neglect, to physical and psychological violence. Struggles with emotion regulation and anger outbursts, has some PTSD symptoms such as flinching away from touch and light dissociation, if triggered. Both craves and is averse to touch, tends to feel over-stimulated when he’s tired or stressed so he copes by holing up with Race on the rooftop. One of the healthiest ways he has to express his emotions is his fierce protectiveness of the people he loves.

 Spot fled an abusive neglectful household when he was young, but not before he was completely sure he could fend for himself against the whole world. One of his siblings died while in their parents care and that loss and anger caused him to put up walls so high and thick no older Brooklyn newsie ever really gained his trust, but immediately became very protective of the younger kids, in time earning his position as the borough leader without even noticing. He translates all his emotions into action, often leading to manic episodes that, once they’re over, leave him exhausted both physically and emotionally. While he’s feared by many outside of Brooklyn, his newsies love and respect him and know when to step in and let him retreat for a couple of hours to rest.

[macgyvermedical]

Soup: a “Tesla + Bell + Edison + Mac” Medical Review

“You have a perfectly functional syringe pump with the PCA in the background, and you’re going to give him an injection with a metal needle? Also, if you’re gonna sedate him you might as well use the IV pump too??? Like, you have a whole ‘nother channel?? Most floor nurses would kill for that setup?” <--- From my notes on this ep.*

Awl - X-Ray + Penny - Duct Tape + Jack - CD + Hoagie Foil - Guts + Fuel + Hope - Wilderness + Training + Survival - Father + Bride + Betrayal - Lidar + Rogues + Duty - Nightmares - Seeds + Permafrost + Feather - Friends + Enemies + Border - Mason + Cable + Choices - Bitter Harvest - Kid + Plane + Cable + Truck -

In case you didn’t see it, the story went like this: After being knocked unconscious trying to prevent Codex from stealing an encoded map to a Tesla-era WMD, Mac wakes to find he’s lost certain memories of the event that are crucial to interpreting the weapon’s location. In order to recover the memories and stop Codex from getting there first, Matty calls on a friend at DARPA who studies experimental memory-recovery drugs. Drugged, Mac enters a dream state to track down the memories, where he encounters his mother, a man he recently chose to kill to save everyone in LA, his high-school bully, and a darker version of himself who thinks Codex’s directive to kill an eighth of the population to save the world might not be too far off the mark.

So there’s a lot to talk about here medically. For this post, I’ll go into the concussion and its aftermath, the drug and it’s administration, and the medical technology that the Phoenix infirmary seems to have at its disposal.

The Concussion/Amnesia:

Mac is knocked out by a blow to the head. He wakes up “a few hours” later in the Phoenix infirmary. I’ve talked about concussions before (see here, here, and here), so I’m not going to go into too much detail about them in this post, but essentially if someone’s out for that long, they’re in trouble.

It’s reasonably common to lose consciousness in a concussion, but it’s usually only for seconds to minutes, and if it occurs at all, that person needs prompt medical evaluation in an emergency room. Even if there ends up being no major complications, like bleeding in the brain or an increase in pressure in the skull, the recovery time for concussions with a loss of consciousness can be in the weeks or months range. Someone who’s out for “hours” is looking at a stay in a neuro ICU and probably severe and possibly permanent brain damage. Like, it’s a season-long arc at least.

Since we’re not seeing that level of medical need, I think it would probably be safe to assume that Mac wasn’t actually out for “hours” as stated. He could have been briefly unconscious, as shown in the house attack scene, but then had trouble forming memories after that, which caused him to not remember the ride back to Phoenix very well, if at all. These are still concerning enough symptoms that I would have taken him to an emergency department instead of to the infirmary, but at least with that scenario there’s a possibility what happened to him isn’t actively life threatening outside of a neuro ICU.

Unlike the extended period of unconsciousness, the portrayal of amnesia isn’t far off the mark for once. The amnesia that Mac suffers is actually pretty reasonable- trouble remembering the incident and the events just before it is common in head injuries, as is having trouble forming new memories after. Not only is accurate amnesia something that I didn’t expect out of Rob Pearlstein (writer of the infamous Guts + Fuel + Hope), but it’s something that fiction as a whole (including, I’ll admit, 1985 MacGyver**) tends to struggle with. So kudos for that specific part of this episode, Pearlstein.

The Drug:

Even if we assume Mac wasn’t unconscious that whole time, the brief unconsciousness and memory problems indicate that he still had a pretty significant concussion that needed medical care and monitoring. I’m guessing that as advanced as the Phoenix Infirmary is, it doesn’t have the capacity to do neurosurgery or intracranial pressure monitoring. That means the Phoenix medical team’s priority in this situation would essentially be to catch any major, life-threatening complication as early as possible, and if one happened, get Mac to a hospital quickly enough to save him.

The best and lowest-tech tool they have to this end is repeated mental status exams. Mental status exams have the patient answer a series of questions like ���what’s your name?” “what day is it?” “where are you right now?” “what happened to you/why am I asking you these questions?”  followed up with a series of mental tasks like counting backwards from 100 by 7s or making a logical decision based on a given scenario. If Mac’s answers significantly change, from one assessment to the next, that could mean he’s in trouble. 

Because these assessments rely so heavily on Mac’s ability to answer questions and perform tasks accurately, and they’re really the only thing that’s going to catch a serious problem early enough to save Mac’s life, the last thing you’d want to do is give him a drug cocktail that would alter his perception of where he is and what’s going on around him. I’ll just… leave that there.

But let’s assume that for some reason they have a non-CT way of assessing whether Mac’s about to die from a brain bleed while in a drug-induced dream state (they do appear to have limited EEG capability- can anyone tell me if this would still be helpful in the context of the drugs?). I’m not going to talk too much about the drug cocktail itself, since it was stated as fictional (so, essentially, anything they say it does it can probably do), but since they do reference it as containing DMT, I invite you to check out the erowid experience vault for DMT for stories of other people’s experiences with it.  

I will, however, talk a little about the administration of the drug. In the episode, a syringe with a needle is used to deliver the medication. Though not explicitly shown, I assume Dr. Cheryl inserted the metal needle into one of Mac’s arm veins and injected the drug.

Something that fiction generally doesn’t understand is that inserting a metal needle into a vein in order to administer medication doesn’t happen in a medical setting. Ever. The ONLY way to administer a medication IV in a medical setting is through an IV cannula- a short, flexible plastic tube inserted into a vein, often just colloquially called an “IV”:

If Mac had one of these ^^^, the syringe could attach to one of the blue and white pieces and the medication could be injected without worrying that the needle could slip out of the vein (many IV medications must be injected slowly over several minutes, and that’s a long time to hold a needle still).

Before Dr. Cheryl gives him the drug, she takes his vitals and asks him some questions, namely whether he has ever had “a psychotic break”, then, without explaining further, asks if he thinks he will become violent.

Now, it does make sense to ask someone about their psych history when administering a drug known to have psych side effects, because those can be a lot worse or more likely for people with certain psych histories. Think about SSRIs and SNRIs- they’re good antidepressants, but when given to someone with bipolar disorder, they can greatly increase the risk of a manic episode, and that possibility has to be evaluated before the drug is prescribed.

The conversation should have started with Dr. Cheryl asking everyone else to leave the room. Asking if someone has ever experienced psychosis in front of their coworkers, is not only a serious breach of patient privacy, but could also be incredibly dangerous. If Mac had experienced psychosis, but didn’t want his coworkers to know, he’d either have to lie and risk side effects without being able to prepare, or feel pressured to release that medical information and possibly risk his job or reputation***.

Then she’d ask something to the effect of “have you ever been diagnosed with a mental illness, been hospitalized for a mental health reason, or do you take any medications for a mental health problem?” And if the answer to that question was anything that would make the drug particularly dangerous to him, she’d probably tell him the risks and her assessment that it was a bad idea to proceed.

If there was no other option for some reason (I’d argue not the case in this situation), she’d tell him what the risks were, and only then would she possibly have to ask if he knew he might become aggressive, at which point they’d come up with how he’d like her to handle that possibility.

I know it’s not quite as snappy, but I would have really liked to see it.

Plus, unless it’s been asked off screen, Dr. Cheryl hasn’t asked him if he has any other health problems, if he takes any medications, or if he has any allergies, all of which could significantly impact how safe this drug could be for Mac.

Phoenix Infirmary Medical Tech

Now let’s look at some of the bits and pieces in the background of the episode. Particularly, I wanna talk about that chair, the IV pump, and the monitor.

So, chair first- it’s a dentist’s chair. It’s good for dental things and maybe some minor procedures (we have a slightly different chair in a doctor’s office I work at- we use it for things like implanting birth control, removing warts and moles, and providing wound care), but it’s not great for anything else. It’s especially not great if you have to sit there longer than a half hour. Considering we know from previous episodes that they have a full-on hospital bed somewhere at their disposal and possibly a couple of carts (narrower beds you see in the emergency department), I gotta say it makes literally no sense to put the guy who’s unconscious from a head injury in the procedure chair.

Next, the IV pump

We talked above about administering medications “IV push”- a medication “pushed” through an IV by a syringe, one dose at a time. Another way to give IV medication or fluids is via an IV drip or “piggyback”- the medication is diluted in a bag of saline or other IV fluid, and set to continuously run into a person’s IV. These are nice for doses of IV medication that have a lot of volume (like IV antibiotics) medication that wears off quickly and may need constant adjustment (like some kinds of sedation or some types of pain medication or medications that counteract shock), or just straight up IV fluids.

IV pumps control how fast the medication or fluid goes from the bag into the person. You can vaguely control this without a pump using gravity, a drip chamber, and a roller clamp, but if you need to know precisely how many milliliters of medication/fluid per hour is getting into a person, and you didn’t start your nursing career in the 1970s, you need a pump.

The one pictured above specifically consists of a central computer box (colloquially called a “brain”) where the pump rate can be programmed, flanked by interchangeable modules that each do a slightly different thing. The modules on the pump in the episode include an infusion pump, which essentially just pumps fluid from a bag hanging above it into a person, and a PCA pump. A PCA pump holds a syringe of medication (usually pain medication) and delivers a dose of it when the patient presses a button.

Honestly I think the whole things is just chillin’ in the background making the room look medical-y, but they really could have used it to continuously administer the drug or the sedation if they’d really wanted to incorporate it.

Side note, the modules are actually kind of heavy, so you have to balance them a little or the whole thing kinda tilts (see the screenshot from the episode). Also, for some reason if you stick an infusion module on the same side as a PCA module, the brain won’t recognize it half the time. Not sure if it’s a feature or a bug. Below is how someone who has ever once used one of these things would have set it up:

The other thing they have in the episode, and the last thing I’ll talk about before I let you get back to your life (I’m sure your cat misses you by now, mine sure does), is the monitor. 

I read several user manuals for this (real) monitor system in preparation for this post. I’ve concluded that it’s way, way above my med-surg pay grade, and usually used in operating rooms by anesthesiologists to monitor sedation level (so at least in theory they could be using it correctly? I’m as shocked as you are, really). I don’t even know what half those numbers mean (beyond the SpO2, heart rate, and respiratory rate), more than just being able to say they (surprisingly) do actually reflect real monitoring options on this thing. This leads me to believe this may be some kind of weird product placement thing? As if the gratuitous use of the Toyota backup cameras weren’t oddly forced enough.

Now, beyond the fact that this is a wildly high-tech, completely overkill machine for what is happening in the episode, the thing I would like to impress upon you is that regardless of the high tech-ness, every line on a monitor requires at least some attachment to the patient. Something measuring an EKG requires at least 3 leads on the patient. Something measuring oxygen saturation and pulse requires a clip on an ear or finger. Something measuring blood pressure requires a blood pressure cuff. Something measuring temperature usually means a probe somewhere the sun don’t shine. Mac has two little leads on his forehead. That is actually hilarious. He’d be covered in wires. He would have so much adhesive stuck to him.

In case you’re wondering, the heart/lungs/brain/person outline picture on the monitor just tells you how each part of the body is doing- like, the brain will turn yellow and then red if something starts going weird with the brain-related monitoring, same with the heart and lungs. It took an insane amount of searching to figure that out. I’ve been writing this post for 4 days now.

 *I had a much longer and rant-ier intro to this but I feel like I’ve complained enough on main about how the reboot dumbed down and politically neutralized an extremely opinionated and hardline character. I do really like this show, and the storylines are really interesting, but I need you all to understand how science-based and politically charged the original one was, especially in later seasons. You had such a platform for good here, CBS, and I’m hoping against hope the generic-action-show it’s become was some kind of weird, collective misunderstanding and not a censor problem. My main problem, having finished writing this post, is that he looks really weirdly good for someone who was unconscious with a head injury and then subjected to what was another few hours unconscious and hallucinating. Like, his shirt is still tucked in. Great update to the theme song, though.

**Twice. They played the bourne-style-amnesia storyline twice.

***At this point I can only recommend you watch the 1985 MacGyver Season 7 episode “Obsessed”- it’s a ridiculous-criminal-plot episode but the undertones are all anti-ableist (both criticizing the Phoenix Foundation board of directors’ ableism in assuming Pete is no longer fit to do his (desk) job after he loses his sight, and the pressure Pete himself is under to let MacGyver go because of mental health symptoms).

[cartilageandperfume]

I’m finally gonna post one of my first short stories! This one was for a school assignment, and seeing as the school year’s over, it should be fine to publish. @yupokaysuremhm helped me edit!! (Don’t repost, but please feel free to reblog.)

Undercurrent

"Sunset and evening star and one clear call for me! 

And may there be no moaning of the bar, 

when I put to sea."

Excerpt from a gravestone at Rock Creek Cemetery, Washington, DC.

'Have you ever been out on the beach at night, my dear?'

I have. I know the pull of the ocean, stronger still on a dark night, the waves at once thunderous and silent. I know the feeling of such insignificance compared to the vastness of the water. The frothing white of the sea illuminated by a round, full moon that would seem massive in any other context swallowed by the weight of the sea. 

We step onto the sand together just after dusk. The beach is empty save for a pair of seagulls who take to the sky when we get too close, bone-white feathers bright in what little light remains. The late July heat is vanished with the wind-off-the-water, and I shiver in the dark fleece jacket I brought along. You have no such qualms, still wearing the plain t-shirt and long, flowing white skirt you threw on this morning. Now it seems thin, insufficient protection from the chill of the night. I've never liked the droning heat of summer, but now the cold does nothing but put me on edge, wind lifting the hair on my arms, winding around my ankles. I can't help but imagine the wind wrapping around me as cold, heavy weights dragging me down to the bottom of the ocean. Shuddering to clear the image from my mind, I make my way to the abandoned lifeguard chair, lifting my feet as far above the ground as I can with each unsteady step through the shifting, hungry sand. I watch you pull your long hair out of its hair tie, already curly with salt from a morning spent at the sea. Not this beach, though, but yet another of the beaches on your list. You told me that this summer you want to revisit every beach on the coast, every beach you knew so well when you lived here as a child. A few feet from the ocean, you can no longer resist the pull, and you charge in, meeting the crest of a wave with your full body, entirely soaked and still in your clothes. I can't help but smile as I watch you, seemingly more at home in the sea than you ever are on land. We met at college in the city, you, an unwilling emigré from back here, I, a generation removed from these same coastal towns. 

My mother had described it as an escape to the city, away from the unchanging monotony of small town, USA. She and I went back to her parents’ for a weekend or two every year, though, staying as long as we could until the tension between them snapped like frayed ropes during a storm. Then we'd return to our sophisticated urban life, impossibly far, yet only a few miles away from their rough, saltbox-style home. I loved the beach then. I'd spend all day wading, dodging waves, too skittish to venture the ten feet or so beyond where they broke over the sand. Sometimes, on those brief weekend trips, my grandparents would take us for a drive, to see the marinas, the marshes, historical homes in the area, and of course, the statues. One statue, a man boldly steering his ship through a storm, the other, his family waiting for news-- a safe return, or a wreck. They that go down to the sea in ships. We stopped coming up here, my mother and I, when she met a man her parents disapproved of. No great falling out, the visits just stopped. I came up alone for each of their funerals. My grandfather, a heart attack in the cellar. My grandmother fell into the water on one of her daily walks. Descended from a long line of North Shore fishermen and their wives, she had never learned to swim; many who make their living on the water up here never do. The water's so cold, and nobody can fight off hypothermia no matter how strong their crawl stroke. 

The flow of memories ebbs, and I look up to check on you again. Your crawl stroke is good and strong, and you weave through the waves with practiced ease. I still worry, though. I'm sitting up straight and craning my neck in the assumption that I'll be better able to see you, and I realize I'm unconsciously mirroring the posture of the fisherman's wife statue. Does that make you the fisherman? A ship's cook, perhaps, or a deckhand? I laugh a bit as you dive under a wave, long dark tangles of your hair like seaweed, filmy skirt half blending in with the white of crashing waves. No, you're the siren calling the poor humans aboard to their doom. I realize, watching you cheer when a wave douses you, that you're not as reckless in the waves as I initially assumed; I've never once seen you turn away from the ocean, and you seem to be able to predict and avoid which waves that are larger than they seem. 

Experience from a life spent here, I assume. You lived here all your life, your father a lobsterman who turned to taking tourists around on his boat when you were born, a safer, more predictable living for a newly-responsible single father. And so you grew up no stranger to the sea, only leaving for college, where we met in our first year. At the time, I was studying to become a historian, and you, a writer, and so we ended up taking the same nonfiction-writing class. It was your first story that captivated me, a piece about a local shipwreck. And every story after was a dive into life on the ocean. I can't remember most of my pieces, but I do remember the way your eyes lit up when you talked about the sea. It made me homesick for a place I'd never truly lived. 

You call to me from the ocean, waving, beckoning me closer. I laugh you off, motioning to myself huddled on the worn wood of the lifeguard chair. I'm fine right where I am without any late-night soaking, and besides, you're having enough fun for the both of us. You laugh at that, then turn and dive beneath a wave. It takes you a long time to come back up, and I worry, but you resurface the same as always. 

You've been in the water almost twenty minutes now, and I wonder about hypothermia. It's true that the water now is warmer than the sand, due to some principle of thermodynamics I never cared enough to learn. Still, the temperature on the sand is frigid at best, and I can imagine the water slowly draining the warmth from your body, fingertips turning blue. Just my imagination, though, and you're moving around plenty enough to get your blood circulating. You beckon me in again, and again, I decline. Your loss, you call, and I make a face at you, laughing. And I hope I'm not misunderstood; I do enjoy being here, content watching you and taking in the ocean as a whole. The water stretches out in front of me, the beach in a ragged crescent of sharp rocks reaching out into the water, almost encircling you in an embrace. Those same rocks all up and down the coast spelled doom for many a sailing ship and fishing boat long ago. Now they're mapped out on every electronic system, nearly making obsolete the lighthouses adorning these beaches and islands. The biggest danger these days is the weather, or equipment failure, or human error. I glance down at you again, to make sure you haven't fallen victim to the waves. You're fine, as always. 

The sky stretches out above us, nearly as large, nearly as deep and dark as the ocean. There are no clouds tonight, and the moon is full. It hangs there, alone, dwarfed by everything else. It simply can't compete with the roiling inky-blackness of the ocean. 

I check again, to make sure you're still alive, still breathing air. You catch me watching, and beckon me down a third time. And this time, I listen. The water around you calls, too, pounding and crashing, thundering all around us, almost quietly. Almost precise, but so wild as well. I leave my clothes and shoes on the lifeguard chair. I'm wearing a swimsuit beneath my warm outer layer; you always manage to convince me to join you, so I've dressed for the inevitable. I'm not steady on the sand as I walk down, stumbling over the thick and shifting crests of sand. The wind picks up the closer I get to the water, battling me as I come towards you. The realization that the ocean's too far away from the lifeguard chair for any lifeguard to be of rapid use drifts across my mind, but I give it no thought.

The ocean is warm, both warmer and colder than I expected, and a wave pulls away from me as soon as I step in, leaving my ankles now wet and exposed to the bitter wind. I laugh and go deeper. I'm up to my waist in the warm water, clinging to me like a hug from a long-lost friend. You swim up to me from under the water and surface with a spray of salt water. I laugh again, and you grab my hand and pull me yet deeper out. I follow willingly, sinking to my knees, up to my neck in the water. I tilt my head back and let a wave crash over my face. When I surface, I see clouds for the first time tonight. I point the sky out to you, and you laugh, almost flippantly. What does the appearance of the sky matter, compared to the strange beauty of the ocean? It matches your eyes, you say to me, and I laugh. My eyes are dark brown, and I tell you so. You shake your head. Not the color, you say, but the depth. I flick water at you. You pull me out yet deeper. I'm taller than you and I can't stand. 

I'm worried about being out this deep. I tell you as much, and you dismiss my fear. You grab both my wrists this time, and playfully pull me down in the water. Your hands are so cold around my wrists and as we swim deeper together, the water grows colder as well. I pull up before you, needing to breathe. You don't want to let go, keeping me underwater. Frustrated, I try to break free. 

You hold me down with you. Angry now, and a bit afraid, my eyes fly open in the harsh salt water. It's dark, of course, nighttime above and even less light below. But I see your eyes, flashing and playful. I try to kick away, towards the surface, and something circles my ankles, scaled and twisting. I scream, and the last of my air bubbles float away towards the surface. You let go of my wrists only to embrace me bodily, and I can feel where your skin gives way to thick scales, cold and grating against my unprotected limbs. You kiss me one last time, full of salt and sharp teeth. I close my eyes in the depths of the ocean. It's not so cold anymore. I wrap my arms around you, tangling my fingers in your hair, and give in to the pull of the water.

[aalt-ctrl-del]

something that does disturb me about some of these corona virus self-reports, is a small account given by those that have had corona virus or know someone who went through corona virus. Third-party reports, with minimal credibility, but there is a disturbing narrative I review, that comes from a common attribute. There is a dismissive often casualness to these reports, which comes from someone who has done minimal research into the significance.

A somewhat frequent trend is that those young people, who have the minimum side-effects (such was mild aches and soreness in the throat, sometimes headaches) go on to ‘recover’ from corona virus. Then go on to say, “Taste or the sense of smell has not returned. At all.”

To the “it’s just a flu” crowd, this is dismissed as typical allergy or side effects of a mediocre cold. But the account may have a more unsettling significance.

I have a family member, who several years prior, suffered a very mild stroke. A mild stroke can be missed, because it does not have outward significance to those who knew the individual. And, we only put together the context of this stroke and it’s impact on her health, years later, when she displayed early onset dementia. The stroke was only made knowledge years following, after a MRI scan revealed the mild onset of neuro damage that matches to a stroke pattern, though it was not outwardly visible. Though this family member, aware that her mind was damaged but not comprehending how, made the efforts to square away essential assets and put her future care in order. There is more to this story, but it is personal and not relevant to the corona virus tangent I am going through.

Now, of this early onset dementia, our first clue was that her sense of smell and taste was affected. Bear in mind, no neurological discrepancies were visibly apparent at the time - and this medical narrative comes before a time when resources for dementia or Alzheimer's was made readily available. The plot we built around our ailing individual, we had to piece together years later following the discovery of medical documents. However prior to the documents surface, as years endured, it became more apparent that memory loss was setting in, and she was aware of this.

What does this have to do with corona virus? From what we have gathered with the virus, is that it is systemic, it can infect and damage other organs and tissue of the body. It can infect the brain and optical nerves, it can affect the liver and kidneys. There is a distinct difference between pneumonia corona virus and the systemic corona virus - these health issues are one in the same - though it only establishes where corona virus has infiltrated and damaged. It is only when corona virus has infiltrated the lung tissue and presents itself in respiratory distress, that people think that they have contracted corona virus. And I tell my family this, when they have a little throat thrash - Corona virus WILL NOT present itself first as a cold or abrasive throat. You will not know you have it, and when you begin presenting the common and true respiratory distress, it may be too late.

And right here I want to make a very crucial note. Ebola first presents as a flu or cold. Meningitis first presents itself as a flu or cold. Measles first presents itself as a cold or flu. Invasive fungal sinusitis first presents itself as a flu or cold. A deadly bacteria microbial that killed a 6 year old in Texas, first presented itself as a cold or flu, or corona virus.

What all these illnesses have in common, is that, they present firstly as a common cold or flu, but if the medical institute which treats the infected fails to work fast enough to actually diagnose the individual, they will die. Yes. Ebola is fatal to many people without hospital intervention and antiviral treatments, and even still if it is not controlled quick enough the infected person will perish. Measles is deadly to children AND adults. Invasive fungal sinusitis is often fatal, unless the contaminated tissue is hacked out of the persons face - this usually results in disfigurement. The point being, because something has been described as a little flu or cold, does not mean it is harmless - it only means that we can see these symptoms presented. It is a prescript response the body has, to many viral or bacterial infections, due to an inflamed reaction to compromised tissue. That is what a sore throat is, tissue contaminated to invasive cells which the bodies white blood cells must destroy and remove - this results in abrasion or a ‘burn’. When you want to refurbish furniture, you first must remove tarnished and unsightly top coat through sanding. You can accidentally disfigure your furniture project if you are not careful, or need to do repairs on weaknesses or damage inflicted by age. The body is the same way, the cells destroy the infected cells and some cells which are not infected - this is the cytokine storm which puts individual infected with covid, into the hospital for essential medical intervention.

Now back to this topic of dementia and neuro damage. These young people as reported casually, having recovered a ‘mild’ infection from covid, and did not present any symptoms or barely ‘noticed’ any aches or whatever. They still report a loss of taste and smell. Why this is concerning to me, is it can mean that covid cells infiltrated the brain and got up to some not good businesses. NOW, I am NOT here to say, “omg, these people are doomed. Oh no.” What I will say, is that they ARE NOT CURED.

The body likely responded to some sort of infection, it might have only affected the sinus cells. Whether or not antibodies were produced is unknown. There is a possibility that the headache is a result of the body attacking compromised cells in the brain, and if that sounds scary, DO NOT LET IT MAKE YOU AFRAID. This is very important. This is only a cautionary segment, and a plea for those who have suspected they may have been exposed to covid, or have recovered from covid, to be cautious from here on out. Neuro cells can rebuild themselves, to a degree. Neuro cells or brain cells, are notorious for being permanent, non-replicable. But they can be fixed by small increments. It can also take months, or years, in an individual that is healthy. This is why I say those who have lost some sensory, must absolutely be careful. Covid cells have a very direct plan of attack, they are very illusive in the body, and cells that have gone through the trauma of protecting you from this virus may be weakened to some degree.

This is why I am adamant about directing focus to the lack of immunity or the relapses when they occur, to those that previously thought they recovered from covid.  I saw a beautiful post on here a few days prior, about a woman who is HIV +, but is able to have children and a husband, without fear for them contracting the virus, because she has medicine to keep the viral count down. Thus, her family does not need to worry about HIV, her children can live a normal life, and she can have children. It’s a blessing.

It is also a very important narrative for the corona virus, an illness we are still struggling to understand to the full of our capacity. This speculation I have that antibodies formed following a corona virus infection, may be short lived or unreliable to future infection. If a person is subjected to a high concentration of virus load, such as our healthcare workers, the prospect of infection and a lethal infection increases. This is why metropolitan areas need harsh restrictions due to the corona virus, the high concentration of people increases the infection rate - probability - of a positive infection. The more covid cells you encounter, the higher risk and possibly the more severe your infection because your body is not capable of keeping up with the infection onslaught. Healthcare workers MUST BE EXTREMELY CAUTIOUS - that is why they wear hazmat suits while treating covid sufferers. They are in a viral load element, and many can not go home to their families because the risks are too great.

If you suspect you have had covid or may have encountered someone with covid, reduce your interaction with people. Do not go out. Treat yourself like you are still struggling with the virus, even if you feel you are not. Behave like you are still taking the medication your doctor gave you, even though you feel better. Let your body do its job to its fullest, before you go out courting covid once more. If you keep subjecting your body to a trauma, then the cells become eroded and run down - it increases the probability of a severe infection which will have ultimate consequences.

“Young people seem to bounce back” is a highly irresponsible narrative. We do not grasp the full effects of corona virus infection in young people. We have no test group, nor a control group. But we can follow patterns. The cases increase, due to the false belief that corona virus is not serious. It likely comes from some young person believing, “I recovered and didn’t feel that bad, thus, the virus is not that bad. I am very healthy, and the virus didn’t stand a chance.”

Wherein the truth is, your body managed to get the virus under control to the point the young person felt good. And yes, because the young person may be healthy, but they are not exempted from a second, or third infection. IF THE ANTIBODIES ARE NOT THERE. This is where we reach the relapse, reinfection, and the ongoing lethargy that some people endure. The virus is still present, but it is managed by the body. The body is producing antibodies, but the virus is still producing cells which attack the body.

This may also explain the “negatives” of those that test negative, but still feel like crud. The negative of a covid test, might mean that there is not sufficient viral load to reach a positive result. I could be wrong. All I have right now are speculation, theories. But the doctors are telling us fundamental things, and not going into specifics why.

You do not want to contract corona virus. It does not care how healthy you are, it’s primary mission is replicate and spread, and feed on hemoglobin.

When people say, “Yeah, I still don’t have my sense of taste and or smell back.” I am very alarmed. Because when someone dismisses something so essential, my first concern is not, “That is common in colds”; I begin thinking, “This virus attacks any tissue, and the sinuses have been traumatized. How long does this last?”

We do not know enough about this virus to be complacent. It does not behave anything like a cold or flu, aside from symptoms which are a synonymous onset to every other kind of horrendous viral or bacterial infection with a high fatality rate. The cytokine storm is a very sudden, aggressive onslaught on anything compromised by corona virus cells - including cells that may have not been infected let alone compromised. Individuals who come across as very proud to have recovered so efficiently from a possible corona virus infection, may be health compromised or primed for a second more serious infection.

And last, if you are a person who does not know where you liver is located, then you probably shouldn’t conclude you’ve recovered from the corona virus. And final, if you lost your sense of taste or smell, you need to be more cautious from here on out because it is possible you are not fully recovered.

[nymphl]

Lie to Me - Hux x Reader x Ch. 14: Dirty & Clean

A/N: Hello xD It’s been a while since I last updated my chapters here. I’m sorry. I’ll do my best to update now regularly every Friday, while I write the few remaining chapters. Anyway, this story has 24 chapters already posted on AO3 and I’m posting it now on Wattpad as well, in case you prefer to read it somewhere else. Just a brief warning for this chapter, although I don’t think it’s too much, but there’s a bit of angst and physical violence. Hux is definitely not his best self in this chapter.

Story Summary: Falling for the enemy… That’s probably the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. Letting him live… for he should be dead. And you should’ve been the one to kill him. You had him, right there… and you let it escape through yours fingers. He lived. And now only the time could tell if you made the right decision — more likely wrong — by saving the amnesiac General of the First Order and telling him he was your husband. [Hux x Reader - Hux x You]

Warnings for the entire story: Will contain at times; graphic violence, sex, drugs and manipulation, coarse language and OOCness.

AO3 Tags: from enemies to lovers; eventual romance; memory loss; fake marriage; fake marriage becomes real marriage; rebellion; married couple; canon divergence; slow burn romance; politics; rebel alliance; resistance; first order; OOCness; eventual smut; eventual sex; power play; power dynamics; syndicate; lies; you lie; Hux lies; Hux backstory; manipulation; political alliances; political betrayals; secret organizations; tros fix it; anti tros; nobody likes general pryde.

Wordcount: 4330

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

YOU COULD HAVE FAINTED.

Actually, you should have fainted. Nothing could prepare you for what was to come. Nothing could have prepared you for what happened already.  

Part of you wanted to ask him what he meant by I have always known, another was so afraid you could not even open your mouth. You decided to wait for his answer. It would come sooner or later. He knew your unspoken question; he always seemed to know what was going through your mind.

When the General pulled your body against his — your back meeting his nude chest —, you could not help but shiver. He traced your arms slowly, lightly, as if you were about to become dust under his very touch. When he found your left hand and entwined your fingers together, you bit your bottom lip. When he placed a strand of hair behind your ear, you held your breath. When he ran his nose over the sensible skin of your neck and inhaled deeply, you thought you would die.

You would not dare breathing.

You could not.

“You are a terrible liar.”

You refuse to look at me when you’re not telling the truth.

He said it once. In your heart, it felt like a long time ago, but in truth, not even two complete months had gone by.

Your heart clenched — it became really, really small — at the memory. It was a very embarrassing night with all his questions about his sexual prowess and later if you had any children and if he had taken them away from you — in case they belonged to your late husband.

Fear crept through your veins at the possibility of that moment being a lie; a game well played to have your sympathy. Your trust.

It only got worse with his silence — with his fingers running over your nude arms slowly; with his cadenced breathing caressing your neck. It made you wonder which moments were real — if he knew the entire truth all along why would he keep the façade of a dutiful husband? Why didn’t he confront you? He should have done that, right? — and which were just a lie. Was everything just a lie?     

“Was it a-a li-e?” Your voice broke at the end. Your throat felt dry, raspy. Sore. There was this overpowering need to cry, but no tears left. The burning sensation in the back of your eyes remained, though.

You breathed deeply and waited for his answer…   

…which did not come, as usual. In an act that both surprised and angered you — for he was playing with your feelings, with your heart —, he bestowed your temple with a brief, almost reassuring really, kiss.

“Was it all a lie?”

This time his reply was quick, but it only left your even more confused.

“Was it?”

His retort made your heart race. It galloped inside your chest. It beat so loudly, pumping the blood to your ears in such a strident fashion that you could barely hear the water splashing against the riverbank anymore.

“You tell me, (Y/N),” he said, his voice a mere whisper against your neck.

You shivered…

…and tightened your hold around the sheets. They covered most of your body, but they could not — could never — conceal your shame. Or hide your regrets. They were so… kriffing many.

You should never have lied.

You should have told him the truth.

Hopefully, he would not kill you.

Hopefully, he would let you live.

Hopefully, he would stay with you.

Hopefully, you would still… fall for him.

Because you needed him like… You just… You just needed him.

“My feelings for you.” You wetted your lips. The words got stuck in your tongue, “…not a lie.”   

He breathed harshly against your ear. His hand immediately left your arm — in that small, almost a mockery of a comforting caress — and wrapped around your throat. Instead of the light pressure he usually applied, this time he held onto you a bit more forcefully, cutting your breath short. A gasp died even before it could reach your lips.

Part of you wanted to grab his hand; to pry his fingers away from you, however foolish the thought was. You decided to relax in his hold instead. Fighting him would do you no good. That was what he wanted, after all — to show how much powerful he was, how much in control of your very life he was. A God. He decided whether you lived or died.

How ironic.

You started that lie — your first lied to him — because you wanted to live and look at where you were now.

A sob was born in your throat. The tears — refreshing and very much needed — were born in your eyes and found their way to your face, staining your cheeks and gathering at your chin.

When they dropped onto his hand, he loosened his hold slightly. You inhaled deeply and spoke, your voice firmer than before, “I know I love you.”

His grip on you tightened once again, bordering on unbearable this time. There was no need for a mirror to know your face was flushed. And, now, you could not help but claw pathetically at his hand, trying to loosen at least one his fingers.

He did it on his own. He let go of you and walked away. There was no need to look at him to know he had adopted that General instance of his. You took your time to inhale deeply through your nose and to touch your throat. You stopped halfway, though, letting your hand fall to your sides.    

“I still can’t understand your reasoning.”

You swallowed.

You didn’t either.

Was it out of sheer, pure desperation? Or was it because you wanted him to let you live — he would kill you if he knew you were once married to someone who was part of the Resistance, right? Or was it because you wanted to keep him away from the First Order?

How long? you wanted to ask. But you felt weak and you did not want to lose your time with such a stupid question. In fact, you wondered if it really mattered. He said so himself you were a bad liar. If he figured out right away or one of these days, it changed nothing.

“Why didn’t you kill me then?” Your voice was still weak. Still filled with uncertainty. Rough around the edges. The fact you cried did not ease the burning feeling in your throat. On the contrary, it only increased.

Your heart sped at his lack of answer.

You finally got your courage to turn around and face him. He was already buttoning his black shirt and wearing his coat. It made you tighten your grip around the sheet.

“Why did you let me live if you knew all along?”

He ran his fingers through his ginger hair, combing it to near perfection; his impossibly blue eyes focused on you. When he spoke, you forgot how to breathe.

“I told you,” he started, throwing your clothes at you. You got them with one hand, the other held firmly onto the sheet. “I would have you no matter what.”  

The way back in the gondola speeder was as quiet as possible. The General piloted the vehicle with his back turned to you, his shoulders squared; his posture was one of a proud man. In your place, you not only had the stance of a defeated party as you felt that way.

But considering your current situation, he had no other reason to feel any differently — to behave otherwise. He had caught you in your lie, after all. He had removed your mask and stripped you off the false security of your made-up stories.   

You tightened your hold around your coat and let out a sigh. It was difficult to know if it was still dark outside when he was going deeper in the cave. Part of you wanted to ask where he was going, another did not want to even talk to him.

The earlier talk and the revelation — the fact you had been relieved of such heavy burden — should make you feel light… clean. Instead, his last words — his confession — made you feel dirty and insignificant.

I would have you no matter what.

It made you recall the first time he said those same words, in a different context. Both situations had your heart almost leaving you through your mouth.

Back then, I already knew you would be mine.

If at that time you felt slightly nervous and somewhat giddy, now you knew you felt… small, used and worthless. It was as if he wanted to have you just to prove something… to prove he could — and would — have anything he wanted and not because he felt something for you.

You wondered if at some point in your brief relationship he actually cared for you — loved you. Part of you was dying to ask if his words after you returned from Aurra’s bistro — the night he orchestrated to make her believe you were his weakness — were truthful.

She was right about one thing: my feelings for you.

Did he have any weaknesses?

You doubted.

Your hand shot to your face when you felt it slightly wet. You wiped the tears before he could notice — and even though he seemed lost in his own world, you knew he paid attention to everything around him — and straightened your back as he brought the gondola speeder to a stop.

He disembarked and offered his hand. Unable to distinguish pretty much anything in the darkened cave, you accepted his help, placing your fingers over his. It was not lingering, though, for he let go as soon as you firmed your feet on the rocky ground.

Slightly ahead of you, he highlighted the place with a small flashlight, guiding you towards the entrance of the cavern. You were surprised, to say the least, when you noticed the cave lead to the woods close to the Hospital.

You wondered why no one ever invaded the place, but that was a very stupid question. They did — Aurra owned it. The place was hers. And you suspected the General owned it now — through a bargain or otherwise, you did not know, you were not sure you wanted to know.

His alliance with the Syndicate and with the Resistance was still a mystery to you. He said so himself he was loyal only to himself — and to you, and you were dying to know if the last part was the truth or not.

The General lead you through the woods in silence. You walked behind him cautious of where you stepped. If you believed the beginning of your night was funny, now you were not so sure. In fact, you hated it. Right now, all you wanted was some sleep — preferably away from him.

Your hand shot to your throat and you wondered if his grip had left any marks. He caught your action out of the corner of his eyes and he suddenly shifted to face you. Taking two steps away, you let your hand fall to your sides.

He closed the space between you and brushed his fingers against your windpipe, pressing it lightly. They almost wrapped around your throat, but he seemed to think better and let go. His bluish eyes were intense on you.

“You should have shot me,” he whispered, flexing the fingers of his right hand slowly. Pensively. You could have said you were naked and away from the blaster, but you decided to stay silent. He seemed to have notice your reasoning, for he took two steps back and turned on his heels. He took the electronic cigarette from the pocket in his coat and lit it, bringing it to his lips, “Next time someone hurts you, shoot them dead. No pity, no remorse.”

You returned home only two days later.

The thought of seeing his face again — of watching the coldness in his impossibly blue eyes — had butterflies dancing in your stomach. You knew he had been to the Hospital, waiting for you — or watching you, it was difficult to know.

You wondered if it all was not a ruse. If he was not using you to get to the Resistance. It would be much clever than killing you — it is, using you to destroy his enemies. To destroy General Organa.

It had been a few days since you gave information concerning the shipment to arrive in Rioza and so far, you received no word about the success — or utter failure, it was now more than a mere possibility, almost a certainty — of the mission.  

A shiver ran down your spine at the thought.

No.

He would not.

He would never.

Your hand found the small necklace you were using. Was it actually some old footage of Ben Solo or Kylo Ren — you did not know how to call him. Did the General really know him? Your knowledge concerning the First Order was ridiculous. Perhaps they have never interacted, and you fell for his lies like a fool.

Like you expected him to fall for yours.

You felt bad for judging him so harshly — it was bordering on paranoia, really —, but you could not help it. You pondered if he felt the same way when he realized you were lying about your relationship.

It is… if he was not playing you all along.

Would you ever know?

Would he ever let you know?

Would it make any difference?

With a tired sigh, you opened the front door and stepped into the kitchen. Unlike expected, D-Five did not greet you in his cheerful, dutiful voice. He was nowhere to be seen.

You removed your bag and walked towards your bedroom. The house was silent, which meant neither of them were in the surroundings. You shook your head, feeling utterly relieved and got rid of your clothes.

All you needed right now was a relaxing bath. You had barely slept in the last two days, you took a meaningless nap at the Hospital, but it was all so hectic with the new cases of that mysterious alien illness that you considered yourself lucky for even napping. Now, some children had been diagnosed as well and one died in your care.

Death was always something traumatic to you.

It did not matter it was expected.

It did not matter it was for the best.

You should have killed the General.

General Organa should have contacted you already.

You were unable to be impassible facing the loss of a life.

You should have shot me.

As if!

After you prepared the hot water, you immediately climbed in, not caring for the temperature — it was slightly hotter than what you were used to — and leaned your head against the border.

It took less than a few minutes for you to fall into an uneventful slumber. Even if you had taken a few minutes of rest in the Hospital, it was not enough to restore your energies. It did not help that the days were so hectic — that your superior continued to hide important information from her staff.

Between your personal problems and the professional ones, whenever you closed your eyes you would either see the General or a dying alien child.

A sigh left you as your eyes snapped open out of their own accord. You immersed in the already chilling water for a few seconds and then came back; your hair completely wet. All you needed right now was some vincha tea to relax your sore muscles and some sleep. The fact that your… — you did not know what to call him; surely, you should not call him husband — well, Armitage Hux was not home was a blessing of some sorts. You knew you were not ready to confront him.

You decided to go to bed without your tea — you were too tired to even think about boiling water and preparing the herbs —, but as soon as you left the refresher, you spotted him sitting at the armchair, an electronic cigarette resting between his lips.  

You shuddered…

…and bit your bottom lip.

Not sure of what to say — how to start a conversation and should it really be you the one to say something? —, you stood quietly in the middle of the room, feeling worse than a bantha in a confined space.

It was suddenly difficult to breathe.

You shivered again, this time out of cold. Nights in Dantooine were usually chilly and the fact you stayed in the water until it cooled off did not help the tiniest bit. Shaking your head, you let the towel fall to your feet — even if you felt slightly nervous about being around him, there was nothing about you that he had not seen or touched.

Biting your bottom lip, you cast a glance at him over your shoulder. Relief flooded you as you found him concentrated on his datapad and his cigarette. Placed over the table near the armchair there was also a glass with a golden-brown liquid you quickly recognized as Corellian brandy.

You took the opportunity to open your wardrobe, only to find it empty. There was no sign of your clothes — of his clothes. You furrowed your brows. Your body went rigid when you looked at him and saw him approaching you, a dress and underwear in hand.

There was no time for you to open your mouth and ask what was the meaning of that, for he spoke for you, “We are moving out.”

Unable to process the meaning of his words — moving out? You lived there for what? Four years now? Five? Close to that, surely —, you merely snatched the dress from his hand and pulled it through your head; next you took your underwear from him. Your hair was so soaked, your clothes were quickly drenched in it.

“Where?”

You bit the inside of your cheeks. What you wanted to say was that you were headed nowhere. With him or even alone. That was your home and you were not leaving it.

“Crystal Cave.”

“That is no place to live.”

He arched one brow, looking around. You bit your bottom lip, embarrassed. There was no need to hear his words out loud. His face conveyed such meaning astoundingly well.

You shook your head, discussing your living arrangements would get you nowhere.  

“Where is D-Five?”

Instead of a quick answer, he brought the Corellian brandy to his lips. You felt your mouth dry, but you did not dare getting closer. Part of you even wanted to try that cigarette of his — you always heard it was relaxing and it was all you needed right now.

All traces of sleep had left you — even if your body was beyond wasted —; you were very much awake.

“He’s already in the Cave.”

The fact he had called the protocol droid he almost slipped you. Almost. You bit your bottom lip; you were dying to know if he said he because at some point he started seeing the droid as more than a secondary being or because he did not want to fight over semantics. Probably the second.

He finished the Corellian brandy and placed the glass over the table, the electronic cigarette already back to his lips. As he walked to the kitchen, the trail of smoke behind him made you stay a few steps behind.

“Why are we moving?”

He was not looking at you when he replied — which in itself surprised you, for you were not expecting a quick answer, or any answer at all, “The Cave has technological and training facilities that are… adequate at best.”

You furrowed your brows.

As a General of the First Order, he probably lived with the best the technology had to offer. Dantooine was just an old and scarred planet. And even when it was under the control of both the Rebel Alliance or the Empire, it never received the best devices. All it had were some second-hand apparatus that could never compare to those used in Coruscant, both in the Republic and Empire Era, or the Hosnian Prime, in the New Republic.

“You will have your own bedroom.”

You bit your bottom lip at his words.

Even if you were hurt and wanted to stay away from him — you were so confused you did not know what you wanted anymore —, the fact that he did not want to be near you was… confusing?

No.

It hurt you.

It shattered… the dream?

Was it a dream? Or a lie?

The made-up story you have woven in your head, for the both of you. Married. For three years and half. With growing feelings for each other.

And now… Nothing.

“Why didn’t you leave for good?”

He cast a glance at you over his shoulder. He exhaled the smoke, making you scrunch your nose. His eyes were intensely focused on you. In the bright light of the kitchen — so very different from the Cave — you could see how much darkened his irises were right now.

“You know the answer.”

His tone — whispered voice, so detached and cold — had you shivering.

You looked at the floor, focused for a moment in the indentation you found there. The house was decrepit. It looked as if it was taken from some horror holofilm, really. You wondered if that was what denounced you — there was no way a couple would live in a place like that for three years and half. The Cave seemed like a mansion now.

Shaking your head — you had no time to think about where your lies had gone to waste, they were never that good to begin with —, you cast a glance at him. He had shifted and was now facing you. He removed the cigarette from his lips and exhaled the smoke once again.

His words — coupled with his penetrating stare — from earlier returned to you.

I would have you no matter what.

They made your heart race. At the same time, it felt small. The thought of being only a possession — and not someone he cared about, he loved — made you gasp with pain. You grasped your dress, right over your beating heart and looked at him, bottom lip trapped between your teeth.

You needed to know.

“Do you hate me?”

There was no answer from his part. Not immediate at least. And how you wanted it to be so this time. For better or for worse. You just… needed to know. Instead, there was only silence. Sepulchral. Melancholic. Somber silence.

His movements — the movement of his arm as he brought the cigarette back to his lips —, were almost too slow. As if he was a bit lethargic. His unreadable eyes, however, removed such assumption from your head.

He was his own master as always.

You were the one affected by that conversation.

Or lack thereof.

“I tried.”

His belated answer made you let out a deep breath. Your shoulders relaxed visibly. You let go of your dress and readied yourself for the next question.

“Do you…” You bit your bottom lip. The fact that he did not hate you did not mean much, right? It should not. Yet, you were a giddy fool right now. His answer to your next question would have the power to either crush your heart forever or cherish it for ages to come.

Do you love me?

You wanted to ask.

You wanted so badly to ask.

But you were afraid to know the answer.

I know I love you.

You said once — twice — and all he did whenever you told you had feelings for him was to back off. He never seemed to take very well to your love confessions. It was as if he was…

Afraid of your feelings?

Disgusted at them?

Probably the second option.  

“Will you kill me?” you asked instead.

He shut off the cigarette and turned on his heels, heading towards the exit.

“No.”

He opened the door and held it open for you. You crossed the threshold, but instead of going towards the hover sled, you looked at him. The two of you were close now — more than you have been in days. You bit your bottom lip and raised your hand to touch his face. Your fingers skimmed his jaw lightly — as if afraid he would jerk away from you —; the facial hair gracing his features made you remember your conversation before everything went downhill. A sad smile tilted the corner of your lips.

The General froze under your touch. He barely dared to breath. He did not do anything to move you away, however.

You closed your eyes and leaned your head against his chest. You felt so tired, drained even. All you wanted right now was for him to hold you close and say he forgave you for lying — that he had feelings for you.

He knew your unspoken question. It would be heaven if he could answer it right now. Answer it positively.

Instead, he ran his fingers through your hair in a soothing caress. You grabbed his shirt and pressed your face against his chest. The first tears stained both the black fabric and your face.

“Are you using me to destroy the Resistance?”

He went rigid under your touch. His answer, however, came quicker than you expected — for you were expecting no answer at all, “No.”

“How do I know I can trust you?”

“You don’t.”

You swallowed.

The General removed your face from his chest and tilted it slightly backwards. You expected him to wrap his hand around your throat, but he merely brushed your tears away. His bluish eyes conveyed nothing of his feelings — did he have any?

When he spoke, your heart almost stopped for a moment, before it went back to that galloping pace.  

“You will have to follow your instincts.”

 A/N - And that’s all for today. I promise this time I’ll adhere to schedule and update every chapter here on Fridays. On Wattpad, chapters will be posted every Wednesday. See you! xD And hopefully, by the end of next week, I’ll also post chapter 25 - Lost & Found on AO3. 

Ah, you will also see that I decided I no longer will mark as italic the words related to the SW universe. It’s very inconvenient to keep revising and marking here every word and comparing them with my ms office because tumblr doesn’t keep the rich text.