#which wouldn't help the disorientation AT ALL

[renthony]

I've been playing Tears of the Kingdom while my husband plays Breath of the Wild, and I just can't stop musing about Wild!Link's canon trauma, both medical and emotional. Specifically, Link's memory loss and the way it would be a trauma unto itself.

What if Link, especially early on when recovery is just beginning, mixes up the names of the Champions and the Sages? What if he remembers something that happened with the Champions as happening with the Sages, and vice-versa?

What if Link struggles to keep them separate in his mind when he's dealing with memory slips and PTSD? What if the Sages have learned to respond to the names of the Champions without thinking, because Link is trying so hard to adjust to life with the after-effects of a traumatic brain injury? What if he can't stop grieving because his mind won't stop mixing everything up? It gets harder when the Sages start wielding the Champion's weapons, or if one of them dresses in blue for the day.

After the Upheaval, Link wakes up on the sky islands, alone with nothing but the ghost of a dead king and a plateau that he cannot leave without falling to his death. Does he panic? Does he think, oh Hylia, I thought I was safe, but it's happened again? Rauru can't give him details. Rauru doesn't know how much time has passed. Zelda isn't there. Link is alone, again. He thinks he has all his memories this time, but does he? How much time has passed, what has he forgotten now?

When Link reaches the surface, when he makes it to Lookout Landing, does he break down? Does he confide in Purah or someone else that he thought he'd lost everyone again? That he would find out that all his friends are dead, again? That he didn't dare hope there would be anyone left for him to come home to?

[blueepink07]

Since we will get Kotoko's album in one day, which includes her VD from which most probably we will find more information about her motivations and her plans in Milgram, I decided to look a bit into her attacks during prison and how I imagine things happened! (I'm fully aware that I will most probably be proved wrong when the album drops, but I'm really curious if I can actually figure out most of what happened!)

Starting off, Jackalope informs us that the order in which Kotoko attacked is: Mikoto, Mahiru, Fuuta.

Which makes sense, considering that she attacked, in order, who is closer to her cell.

(Also fun fact! The prisoners are distorted according to how many injuries they have!)

What I want to answer, however, is how she managed to attack two people without being stopped.

Mikoto vs Kotoko

From Mikoto's VD, we find out that Kotoko has attacked, while John was distracted, giving herself a slight advantage.

"Es: Like you didn’t get beaten by Kotoko…! John: Hah. That was just because she caught me off guard. We went at it again while you were asleep, and it’s not like I lost there."

Considering that they fought some time and where evenly matched, there must have been a lot of noise, which should have alerted the others. In this attack, Kotoko didn't care much about how much attention she would attract. Why? Because the prisoners were already used with John's restlessness and they wouldn't dare to go near him. Hearing those noises didn't alert them much, because they maybe were too scared and didn't want to approach or thought it was just the usual.

As seen in many timeline posts, Mikoto is avoided. The only one who wished him Happy birthday was Haruka, whom we know that is currently isolating himself and didn't wish Mikoto a happy birthday this year too...

"Mikoto: The others told me about it. How I got into a fistfight with Koto-chan and whatnot. "Es: Seems like it, yeah. Mikoto: I wonder if it’s like… some kind of sleepwalking…? After all, I’ve been losing sleep more and more often recently… Man… It’s really troublesome, isn’t it? Es: Mikoto… Mikoto: The others are all scared of me. I can tell by looking at the way they act. Because I read the room."

Mahiru and Kotoko

From Shidou's VD, it is given the information that Mahiru suffered head injuries, more exactly head lacerations.

"Shidou: Shiina-kun’s is even worse. Head lacerations. Bruising all over her body. Left anterior compression fracture. A sprained neck. Fractured ribs. Further fracturing to the left arm. And furthermore… this may be outside of my profession, but her mental health is deteriorating as well."

These injuries are the aftermath of being hit by Kotoko.

Mahiru says some interesting things in her VD:

"Mahiru: … Ah, but this is… I think Kotoko-chan is the one who did it, so… you know? It’s not like it’s your fault. Um, so…! I’m not holding a grudge towards Kotoko-chan either. I’m sure she just thought it couldn’t be helped…"

This "I think" was always interesting to me. It implies that she is uncertain of the events that happened, like she wasn't there... Like she just a heard rumour from someone else...

However, she also tells this:

"Mahiru: … Ah– I– I—I’m sorry…! If– If you touch me so suddenly, it makes me remember… how it hurt… and I get scared…"

She remembers the pain, but not the person who hurt her. Keeping in mind that she also suffered from head trauma, I have thought that Mahiru must have lost consciousness, shortly after being hit, but not fully.

There are actually some levels of impaired consciousness, that can explain my assumption!

Confusion

Confusion is marked by the absence of clear thinking and may result in poor decision-making.

Disorientation

Disorientation is the inability to understand how you relate to people, places, objects, and time. The first stage of disorientation is usually around awareness of your current surroundings

Loss of short-term memory follows disorientation with respect to place.

Delirium

If you’re delirious, your thoughts are confused and illogical. People who are delirious are often disoriented. Their emotional responses range from fear to anger. People who are delirious are often highly agitated as well.

Lethargy

Lethargy is a state of decreased consciousness that resembles drowsiness. If you’re lethargic, you may not respond to stimulants such as the sound of an alarm clock or the presence of fire.

Stupor

"Stupor is a deeper level of impaired consciousness in which it’s very difficult for you to respond to any stimuli, except for pain."

Coma

Coma is the deepest level of impaired consciousness. If you’re in a coma, you can’t respond to any stimulus, not even pain.

From all of these, stupor seems to be what Mahiru experienced after being hit.

Stupor -> caused by head injuries, such as concussion or bleeding in or around the brain

"Stupor is characterised by impaired reaction to external stimuli. Those in a stuporous state are rigid, mute and only appear to be conscious, as the eyes are open and follow surrounding objects. If not stimulated externally, a patient with stupor will appear to be in a sleepy state most of the time."

If Kotoko hit Mahiru and caused her to have a stupor, Mahiru wouldn't even have the chance to yell or cry for help. She couldn't respond to any stimulus (sight, sound, smell, taste and touch), the only thing that she could feel was the pain.

It would make sense, in this case, for the other prisoners to be unaware of what was happening to Mahiru. Kotoko most probably made a surprise attack (as in John's situation), left Mahiru is a state of stupor and did further damage to her body.

"Kazui: I wonder. Maybe it’s because I’m used to violence. Even so… I couldn’t make it for Shiina-chan. I feel responsible for [what happened to] her."

Fuuta and Kotoko

Fuuta seems to have been fully conscious when he was being beaten up by Kotoko. He remembers every detail, unfortunately to him: the way he had been stepped on with the safety boot-like shoes, the beatings which made him think that he'll die. He even remembers Kotoko's motivations and beliefs! It's pretty likely that he was still conscious when Kazui protected him.

"Fuuta: Hey. Look at me. My right eye. It looks awful, doesn’t it? This is what happens when you get stepped on with those safety boot-like shoes. – Don’t recoil like that, that’s hurtful. According to Shidou, it’s likely that I won’t ever be able to see [with this eye] again. Sucks, huh."

"Fuuta: It hurt… It hurt so bad, I thought I was going to die. I was scared!"

"Fuuta: I mean, you forgave Kotoko, right? You affirmed her, right? Her belief that “it’s fine to do whatever to people who have done something wrong”. Es: How do you know about that…? Fuuta: She told me while she was beating me up. How she thinks it’s okay for her to do anything she wants to people who have done wrong, no matter the severity of their crime. And she left the judgment of that up to you."

What are your thoughts about Kotoko's attacks?

If Fuuta was conscious the whole time, his cries of pain or help surely must have been what alerted the other prisoners, who stopped Kotoko from doing further damage...

And so this is me trying to explain why the other prisoners noticed too late Kotoko's attacks!

I'm prepared to be proved wrong, but it was fun to write anyway!

[bloddysnow]

Pairings: Xavier x reader

Night. The subway rumbles on the rails, its rhythmic knock merges with the background while you sit, looking indidently at your reflection in the window. The bright light in the floods everything around. Your hands lie on knees, fingers twitch nervously, sometimes squeezing the fabric of clothes, as if in search of comfort.

Passengers around seem immersed in their worlds, passionate about phones, books or conversations. Their faces merge into a monotonous mass of indifferent expressions. You lean back in a cold, firm seat, trying to calm your fast-paced thoughts. Every breath is given with difficulty, as if an unknown weight is pressing on the chest. Thoughts take you to a dark abyss filled with despair and hopelessness. The idea of ending everything sweeps through your head, a short flash in the overwhelming darkness. This is a thought, both frightening and strangely comforting, promising to get rid of unbearable pain.

You close your eyes, hoping to find a respite in the dark. But instead, images of your problems and failures pop up in front of you, each of which reminds you how tired you are. Tears come to your eyes, and you blink quickly, not letting them spill.

You feel heavy on your shoulder. At first, this feeling is barely noticeable, like a slight pressure, but it quickly becomes apparent. You turn your head slightly and notice that it's the head of another passenger who seems to have dozed off and involuntarily leaned on you.

His breathing is smooth and calm, and you can feel his warmth. His facial features are soft and relaxed, as if he is immersed in a deep and restful sleep. You notice how the light plays on his hair, and you can't help but notice how beautifully they fall on his forehead.

He looks so serene that for a moment all your worries and gloomy thoughts recede into the background. You watch his chest rise and fall rhythmically, his breathing is smooth and quiet. You smile, noticing the small details - his long eyelashes, barely noticeable shadow of a smile on his lips.

This unexpected contact makes you forget about your thoughts for a moment. His presence, though unfamiliar, brings some strange consolation. The warmth of his body and the weight of his head on your shoulder remind you that you are not alone in this world. It seems that the whole world is frozen around you. You're afraid to move so you don't wake him up. Again, taking a deep breath, you close your eyes, trying to focus on this new feeling.

You opened your eyes, and you feel awakening when a voice loudly announces the next subway station through the speakers. The initial feeling of light disorientation slowly gives way to the realisation that you spent a few moments in a short dream.

You're slowly looking around...but the stranger who was napping disappeared, leaving behind only a feeling of a short-term presence.

You've never slept in public places, but that time something was different. Perhaps it was his warmth or the tranquillity of his breath nearby, which allowed you to relax and fall asleep. It was your first memory of a dream in the subway.

But when you're about to get up, you notice something on yourself. It's a jacket...a jacket of that unfamiliar guy.

You look at it in surprise, feeling a wave of mixed emotions rising inside. The jacket is soft and warm, slightly smells like cologne, which further reinforces the feeling that he was here recently. Apparently, he left it so you wouldn't freeze while you were sleeping.

A small piece of paper falls out of the jacket pocket. You lift it from the floor, smoothing it out and see that this letter is written with illegible handwriting. You've read it and you know who it's from.

With a jacket in your hands and a smile on your lips, you left the subway feeling light in your heart.

Hi. I know it's strange that I'm leaving a letter, but thank you for letting me sleep on you. I've never slept so hard yet, believe me. And I apologise if my head was too heavy. Hehe))

I take the subway every night and if it's a fate, we'll meet again. I'd like to.

Xavier

Masterlist

[missmungoe]

I LOVE TIDESWEPT SO MUCH THANK YOU FOR THAT TIDBIT OF WHATS GONNA HAPPEN IN THE NEXT CHAPTERS!!! ALSO CONGRATS ON UR WONDERFUL BABY!!!!

I'm so glad!! I just finished drafting chapter 8, which clocked in at a whopping 25K, and the epilogue is well underway, so have a little sneak-peek while I edit!

(and thank you<3<3<3)

He resurfaced, painfully, to a familiar chamber.

It took effort getting his eyes open, and to focus enough to make out the blurry world taking shape through the receding dark, yielding first to a warm glow, until he could make out the carved corners of a white-painted ceiling, and the rolling green hills and forests of the silk wallpaper wrapping around the room.

He knew where he was―their chambers in Loguetown, in their marriage bed―and for a confused beat, Shanks wondered if he was dreaming, or if he’d drunk himself into such a state of utter disorientation, he was hallucinating while awake. It wouldn't be the first time.

He tried to sit up, which was a mistake, as a wave of agony surged through his chest, choking his breath.

There was a flurry of noise and movement above him―raised voices, and what sounded like several chairs being pushed back―even as he couldn’t make out what was said, dizzy from the pain, although gathered from their urgency that something had happened, and realised only belatedly that the reason was him.

Someone touched his brow, forcing his eyes to focus, as he found himself looking at a familiar frown.

“You’re awake,” Doc said, without embellishment, although Shanks had known him long enough to recognise relief when he saw it.

He tried to speak, although found his throat so dry he could only manage a rasping wheeze, and when he tried to move, instantly regretted it, as another blinding burst of pain left his vision swimming.

Tattooed hands pushed him down, as Doc said, “Lie still. I’m not entirely convinced you’re on this side of the river, so better not push your luck. You’re hanging on by the Fates’ thread as it is.”

The words took time reaching him through the confusion, but then he couldn’t remember how he’d gotten here. His whole chest hurt; it felt like there was something squeezing it, and a glance down saw that it was heavily bandaged.

“Where am I?” he finally managed to rasp, although wondered if anyone caught it, his voice was so hoarse.

“Loguetown,” answered a different voice, somewhere to his left, and turning his eyes found Hongou. Unlike Doc, he wore his relief more openly. “Welcome back.”

Closing his eyes, Shanks tried to make sense of what they were saying, but his thoughts were like silt, slipping through his fingers when he grasped for them.

But he’d gone to Loguetown, he remembered then. He’d gone to Loguetown to help Ace. There’d been a ball, and―

“It’s been nearly two weeks,” a new voice spoke, as Yasopp materialised, and Shanks saw then that his eyes were glassy―that they all were, although he was still having trouble putting the pieces together, as Yasopp rasped, “We thought you were dead.”

“You were dead,” Doc corrected gruffly.

Shanks almost asked if he was sure he wasn't, but then death shouldn't include this much pain. Dying, then, and slowly from the sound of it.

Doc was examining him, trying to get his eyes to focus on him, but Shanks couldn’t follow his instructions, too busy trying to make sense of his jumbled memories, and how’d ended up here, in this state. Had there been a fight? He remembered the ball, and Blackbeard, but after that...

“Teach?” he rasped, which didn’t quite encompass everything he was asking, but then he could barely string together a coherent thought, much less articulate it.

And he thought he already knew the answer, but then they wouldn't all be in the palace if Blackbeard still held the throne, and so wasn’t surprised when Yasopp said simply, “Long live the new king.”

The words settled over him slowly. And he wondered if he should feel relief, to know they'd succeeded, but all he could hear was what Yasopp wasn't saying.

But just was he was about to ask how he'd ended up here, he remembered.

Are you here to steal me, Captain?

His breath shuddered, and it was like a dam broke, as it all flooded back. The ball, and Makino, alive. The hunt and the chase through the forest, and―

There were hands on his shoulders, trying to hold him down, but he wasn’t listening, his voice a guttural rasp, “Where is she?”

They didn’t answer, even if there could be no confusion as to who he meant, and catching Yasopp and Lucky exchanging a glance, Shanks was about to demand they tell him when,

“We don’t know.”

It dragged his eyes to the foot of the bed, and Ben where he stood, his arms crossed. His first mate’s expression was drawn; he looked like he hadn’t been sleeping, and while usually unfazed at delivering hard news, Shanks saw the effort it took for him to say this.

He was out of bed before they could force him back into it, and heard them protesting, as more hands reached to stop him.

“Boss!”

“What part of ‘you were dead’ did you not understand?!”

"Bonk Punch, a little help here!"

A man Shanks didn't recognise appeared between them, with curly hair and a strong accent. “Vy vould strongly advise against tha―”

Shanks shoved past him, and their hands released him as he strode, half-stumbling through the sliding doors, their voices calling after him. Only Ben didn’t try to stop him.

He was barefoot in his breeches, his shirt open and his torso bandaged, but couldn't have cared about how he appeared any more than the pain, his mind narrowed to a single thought.

Startled servants looked up as he appeared, their eyes springing open as they hastened into bows, but Shanks didn’t acknowledge them as he crossed the royal guest wing. The corridors had been stripped of any evidence of the former king, the black carpets and the garish paintings gone, but he wasn’t looking at his surroundings.

And he didn’t know why he was so sure he’d be there, but when he arrived outside the war room, the guards didn’t even pause at the sight of him, only opened the doors to let him in.

Ace was behind the desk, considering a map of East Blue spread across the top. Luffy and Sabo were with him; they all looked up as Shanks entered, the former’s face brightening. “Shanks!”

Ace’s reaction was more controlled, although his surprise was genuine, like his relief as he said, “Back from the dead.”

He was in an unbuttoned waistcoat and shirtsleeves, the latter rolled up to his elbows. And he wasn’t wearing his crown, but Shanks didn’t need to see it to know who the new king was. And while he looked relieved to see him awake, the weight of his eyes told Shanks he knew why he was there, even before he spoke.

“Where is she?”

He’d regained some control of his voice, still hoarse, but stronger now, and this time it wasn't a question but a demand.

Ace’s mouth firmed. And he was abruptly reminded of a different moment, not even a year ago, standing before the same desk, and a different king, informing him that he couldn’t go through with his engagement.

In the corner of his eye, he saw Luffy and Sabo exchange a look, but Ace hadn’t taken his eyes from his, the level weight of his gaze unyielding, and Shanks was about to repeat himself when he turned from the desk.

He watched as he crossed the room to pick something up, before walking around the desk until he was standing directly in front of him.

He wasn’t as tall as his father had been, and didn’t command the room in the same way, a humbler authority that recalled another, but then the late queen had compelled whole crowds to silence with a lift of her chin. And it was no less effective, Shanks found, as Ace held out what he was carrying.

He stared at the sword in his hands, silent in her scabbard, the sea-green hilt and the moonstones catching the sunlight through the windows where the sea looked in, gentle under the cloudless sky.

“We found it in the underwater passage,” Ace said. His voice sounded far away. “Her clothes, too. We think she must have tried to swim out, but…”

Shanks wasn't looking at him, his eyes on the sword, and didn’t know if it was because he feared what he’d find in his eyes if he met them, but heard it in Ace’s voice when he continued, “Your crew’s been out every day looking. We’ve searched the passage, and the whole coast, but there’s no trace of her. But the currents are strong, and the sea could have carried her out―”

“But you haven’t found her,” Shanks said, lifting his eyes from Siren.

Ace’s features drew together, as though he heard what he was really saying. And it was the boy and the king then, the former’s stubborn hope clashing with the harder knowledge of the latter, even as he said, “It’s been two weeks, Shanks. If she was alive―”

He didn’t finish, but Shanks already knew what he’d been about to say; had lived his whole life at sea, and was no stranger to how dangerous it could be, even gentle East Blue. The underwater passage was a perilous attempt even for an expert swimmer, and even if she had made it through, the currents beyond were the most dangerous part. The ocean would have been freezing cold, and with the steep cliffs, she would have had to swim quite a distance to get to shore.

No, he knew the most likely outcome was that the sea had claimed her. He was a captain before he was a king, and Shanks knew the sea. It had no kindness to spare, or mercy, and even the most unbending of wills faltered under that impervious authority.

“When Teach told me she was dead, I believed him.”

His voice was rough from disuse. And he wasn’t looking at Ace, or Luffy or Sabo, his eyes on Siren.

He thought of it in her hers, the way she’d wielded it, water incarnate, not like he would have taught her, and yet he couldn’t imagine it any other way. And he thought of how she’d endured, and lived, and how she’d never given up, even when he had.

He'd accepted the truth without question once, and in doing so, had failed her. This time, he didn't care how long it took him; he wouldn't accept it until he saw it with his own eyes.

Wrapping his fingers around Siren's scabbard, he took the sword from Ace.

“Where are you going?” Ace called after him, even as Shanks suspected he already knew. But while anyone else might have told him it was fruitless, it wasn’t what he got, and looking over his shoulder found the king there, his shoulders straight, but the hope in his eyes without shame.

And his answer was simple; the only answer he would give now. The vow he had made her, and that had no care for the laws of mortal unions, and if death had truly done them part, he would cross the river if that’s what it took, and demand her return from the Fates themselves.

“To find my wife.”

[galactic-rhea]

irt your latest midi-chlorian/mitochondria post - what do you think would happen to him??? :0

See, this is why I shouldn't make that type of posts sleep deprived and away from home in a college field trip in which we were in four different states on a single day.

This is the post anon is referring to

Logically (now that my mind is more clear) the answer should be that he would die, if it's severe enough as how the analog fungicide i mentioned worked lol

See, the fungicide I was rambling around forces the rRNA to malfunction and thus the nucleus stops producing certain proteins needed for the cell. And is just deathly, there are certain fungi that can handle that better, if the application of that fungicide isn't consistent and thus they become resistent, but fungi are impressive organism that can multiply faster and live on incredible conditions, given that they have like, at the very least, three different types of spores (there are ascomycetes that have like 6-7 different spores through their cycle).

But allas, back to my favorite deranged blorbo.

That's stright up a death sentence for anyone, really. But especially for Anakin who has only half of human genetic material and the other half is just the force. With me theory about the midi-chlorians being the mithocondria equivalent, Anakin would be on such a perilous spot between dying on the spot and being basically a pseudo-god, because he has so many midichlorians in his cells that his cells are dying at an extre rate, but he needs the midichlorians to be able to live (and handle) that much power flowing through him due the force. This hypothetical scenario would break this balance to the core, and even if a normal person could survive until reaching an hospital and being given a diagnosis, Anakin could probably drop death on the spot, like I said, is cellular death and growth must be on record time, and this could be helpful with other ailments.

But with the midichlorian failling him and not enough energy because the new midichlorian would be failing as well, there's a chance that The Force would kill him, the equivalent of overheating or when a lightning strikes and you get too much electricity on a single lightbulb.

HOWEVER, to make this interesting and because let's be real, this is fricking Star Wars and this is fricking Anakin I-Survived-More-Deathly-Accidents-Than-I-Can-Count-Skywalker, let's pretend this midichlorian killer chemical isn't as effective as the analog fungicide I was talking about, it doesn't affect ALL of the midichlorians, but just a few to get our good-and then evil-and then good again-boy.

Whump makers take note, please:

It would depend, honestly, but generally speaking, it would mean he's out of all that supply of energy he uses the keep going. He would get something akin to chronic fatigue, momentarily he's all righty, and then of all sudden lifting a pencil is too much.

Being so strong in the force, but without the biological resources to handle it, he would like, pass out after using the force. Meditating could be the equivalent to ask him if he wants to go into comma. If he already felt cold, he's about to start shaking just by going out, this boy has not enough glycogen storage.

But that's the best of the diagnosis, the worst ones are if this affects the neuronal and nervous system cells. I mentioned briefly that an excess of ATP was linked to autism, ADHD, ocd, and other neurogivergencies, and even neurodegenerative diseases and dementia.

Well, the lack of ATP can do this as well, so there's that.

To name some few, very general ones:

-Epilepsy and seizures

-Vision loss, audition loss or auditory hallucinations.

-Disorientation

-Muscular pain.

-Headaches.

-Problems with reflexes like swallowing or breathing.

-Vomits.

-Accelerated (even more, in Anakin's case) cellular death.

-Loss of hair and muscular mass.

Given that in this second scenario, the midichlorians-killer hypothetical chemical isn't as effective and wouldn't case an inmediate death, then Anakin's fast healing qualitys would actually be super duper helpful then, it would be great to compare his healthy cells with the sick ones. In this case, I bet a doctor would be more than eager to take a sample of Anakin's stem cells.

He would be a great lab rat for both the hypothetic evil mad scientist, AND for the eager doctors looking for a treatement and cure, and since this is a chemical and we're on a far far away galaxy, I'm pretty sure the cure would be not-too-hard to find.

Oh gosh I didn't expect to write this much, sorry for that anon, but I hope this satisfied you curiosity? ^^;

[poppadom0912]

Men Suck

Characters: Kelly Severide x Sibling!Reader

Warnings: Abusive/toxic relationship, injuries, blood, hospital treatment.

Summary: Kelly finds out he should've trusted his gut.

A/N: This is kinda new for me, my first time writing a sibling fic for Kelly. Hope it's okay!

*****

Naturally, whenever you brought a boy home, Kelly played his role as your big brother a little too well, always presenting himself as all macho and scary so boys would back off and never talk to you again.

But Jacob, he was different.

The first time you formally introduced Kelly and Jacob was one night at Molly's. You just finished your shift and Kelly invited you for a free drink, something about not seeing you for weeks now due to firehouse drama.

Kelly like usual was ice cold towards the man and he had a very good reason. The moment he noticed you walking into the bar, the man close behind you, he knew something about him was off.

Maybe it was the way he carried himself, his face permanently looking smug and the callouses, old scars and healing skin on his hands sent immediate alarms.

Of course, in the beginning you were as careful as could be but then a month went, then six and then a year and you and Jacob were still together and dating. But, it was seven months in when everything starting to unfold.

Your shift ran over one night and the ED was understaffed and Maggie said she needed all the nurses she could have, so she asked and without a second thought you accepted, helping through the rush of the multi-vehicle car accident.

You were completely shattered, wanting nothing more than a hot bath and to go to bed, falling into the arms of your boyfriend. Alas, it wasn't that simple.

The veins in his neck were sticking out, his knuckles white from the grip on the bottle of beer yet his face was completely straight, too straight.

No matter how valid your excuses were, he just kept going and long before you knew it, your body went limp into his arms so you wouldn't hit the floor, alerting whoever lived downstairs.

From then on, you made sure to tread very carefully every time you set foot into your shared apartment. You constantly made sure that you were home before it got too late no matter what you were doing.

Eventually, people at work started to realise you weren't being you. Suddenly, you were jittering and flinched at the smallest thing, something you never used to do. You used to be the opposite, nothing scaring you because of the tolerance you built up as a child.

Everyone in the ED was so concerned that they even looped in Dr Charles and Ms Goodwin, the psychiatrist already noticing your unusual behaviour before he was told by your concerned colleagues.

You brushed off all of their concerns, saying you were completely fine and everything was great.

Then, someone snitched. You couldn't confirm who it was but anyone who knew Kelly, which was basically the entire staff, called him and spilled the beans.

From then on, Kelly was always in your ear, constantly asking if you were okay, if you wanted to hang out with him, if you wanted to have dinner and stay the night but you always made excuses. It wasn't like Jacob would let you spend the evening with your brother anyways.

All you wanted was for this nightmare to be over and for it all to go back to normal.

*****

Last night was the worst it's ever been. You lost track of time and when you eventually came to, you felt like the reincarnation of death.

You had been left to bleed out on the floor, still dressed in the clothes you wore when you left work, your shoes still on your feet.

Groaning, mustering up all the energy you had, you pushed yourself up and tried to stay silent, trying to hear if Jacob was home but from the corner of your eyes, you could just about make out the empty shoe rack.

He literally left you to die.

Still disorientated, wincing when your body pulsated in several places, you started cursing yourself out. Why did you let it get so far? You should've left him before the second date when Kelly expressed his hatred for the man.

Your eyes dragged across the room, trying to look for anything you could use to help your situation. Still sitting on the wooden floor, you propped yourself against the armrest of the sofa so you were upright. Taking the tissue box from the coffee table, you used as much as you could before the box was empty, holding the white squares against the parts of you that were bleeding.

But, you ran out and you were still bleeding. Before long, you'd pass out against from blood loss and if no one found you, these were going to be your last moments before dying.

This was the only time you were going to be thankful for Jacob. For some reason, he had the home phone on the table besides the sofa which meant that right behind you, within your reach was a phone.

Stretching backwards, you cried out, your fingers violently shaking as you struggled to grip the phone but you were relentless, grabbing the object with all the might you had left.

Pressing in the numbers of your brothers number, you tried to keep your breathing steady as the phone started ringing. As time went on, everything got more blurry, everything hurt more and the more you wanted to close your eyes and take a quick nap.

Snapping out of your reverie, you inhaled sharply at the voice that suddenly spoke, coming from the phone laying in your grasp.

"Severide." You felt tears fall down your cheeks, your sobs echoing, causing your chest to be in immense pain as your body shook.

"Kelly." You breathed out. Just hearing his voice brought you peace and all of a sudden, everything was perfect and you could go now.

"Y/N?" Kelly said in alarm, not recognising the number on his phone but he knew that voice, not liking how you sounded though. Your cries were loud and clear through the phone and it made his heart clench. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

His questions brought the common room to a standstill. Everyone was eating brunch, having missed breakfast because of a call. All their eyes watched Kelly who was frozen in his seat, his phone to his ear.

"It was- Jacob's gone." You breathed out, trying to swallow back your tears so you could tell Kelly everything. "He- I'm hurt Kelly."

That was all Kelly needed to hear to know that Jacob did something, he hurt you. Kelly swore he never saw as much red as he did right now. To know that that scumbag lay a finger on you and he inflicted pain onto you, Jacob would be six feet under the next time next time Kelly saw him.

"Okay, I'm on my way Y/N." Kelly said, letting everyone in the room know that they needed to go. It didn't matter if it wasn't an official call because Kelly's little sister needed help and that was the only explanation needed.

*****

Driving at record speed, Kelly ran past the elevator and went up the stairs, going straight to the floor the apartment you shared with Jacob was. On the drive over, you stopped talking to Kelly and all he could think of was the worst.

Courtesy of Jacob, Kelly was denied a key to your place meaning that he had to kick in the door, kicking it repeatedly with his boot till it fell off its hinges.

Despite being unfamiliar with the layout of the apartment, Kelly ran in and felt his heart drop when his eyes found you unconscious up against the sofa.

Dropping to his knees, water building up behind his eyes, Kelly gently placed his fingers on your neck, waiting with bated breath for a pulse; letting out a sigh of relief when it was weak but it was there nonetheless.

"Y/N. Hey, open those eyes for me." Kelly whispered, pushing your hair from sticking on your forehead to behind your ears. He let his eyes scan your body, his own aching upon finding you littered in wounds, bruises and scars, some of which will permanently scar your skin.

Your groan was just about audible, Kelly's head snapping towards your head. A smile graced his lips when your eyelids fluttered, you were waking up.

"Hey, keep those pretty eyes open for me." Kelly begged you, your hand in his when Sylvie and Gabby finally entered the apartment. And your hand would stay with his until he was forced away by your colleagues at Med when you were taken to surgery.

*****

Your senses slowly came back, one by one. You easily recognised the smell, the sounds and the material of the blanket sitting on your lap and the bed you lay on.

Swallowing back a groan, you felt the needles poking in your skin. Peeling your eyes open, you blinked away any tiredness and scanned the room.

The room was dimly lit, the lights turned down so no ones sleep was going to be disturbed. Trying to move your fingers, one hand was connected to a bunch of needles and monitors while the other was being clutched in a warm hand.

Following the hand, your smiled at the salt and pepper hair. Kelly's head resting on your bed and he finally slept after god knows how long. He was still dressed in his uniform letting you know he hadn't moved an inch since your arrival.

"Kelly." You whispered, poking his cheek. "Wake up."

With a few more pokes, becoming more forceful as you went on, Kelly sat up in alarm, his eyes wide in confusion. "What, what's wro-" He cut himself off, you being the first thing he looked out.

You could physically see Kelly relax, letting out the biggest sigh of relief to see you awake and talking, way more alert than you were before.

"Gosh kid, you scared me." Kelly said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. All he wanted to do was wrap you up, keep you to himself and never let you go. His job as your older brother was to protect you and he failed.

"Men suck." You said with a slight smile, looking into Kelly's eyes that were identical to yours. "I should've listened to you."

"Don't blame yourself." Kelly shook his head, wanting you to know that you were definitely not to blame. "I should've been more annoying. Should've forced Jacob out and as far away from you."

"Don't blame yourself." You mocked Kelly, scoffing when he started to blame himself, guilt eating him up so much he was nearly drowning.

"Thank you Kelly." Your smile brightened, loving the comfort he brought he with small gestures like he was now, his thumb rubbing against the back of your hand like he used to when you were a kid struggling to sleep.

"No problem kid." Kelly smirked when you frowned, hating that he still called you that even though you were a fully grown, functioning and full time working adult.

"Anything for you."

[the-red-thread-that-strangles]

Rei is late for the first time since he's started working at Poirot.

Neither terrorism attacks nor hostage crises have affected his being on time. Not even a runaway horse managed to keep him.

But he spends one night with Akai Shuichi, and his perfect record is ruined. Asshole.

Despite his calling ahead, Azusa gives him a worried look. He stops briefly to give her a mock-embarrassed apology, turning up the charm. Promises he won't be late again. Then he's off to the storage room.

He needs to fetch his ingredients and get to baking.

Rei's going to find Akai and strangle him, just as soon as his shift is over.

.

Roughly 12 hours earlier.

There's a gun aimed right between his eyes.

That in itself is nothing unusual. The situation could be worse, really.

After all, his own gun is pointed right back at Akai Shuuichi's annoyingly smug face. At this distance, he'll be able to read his movement, react in time. He'd rather talk, but if the sniper fires, Rei will drag him into hell too.

Blood for blood. Mutually assured destruction.

(His excitement is slightly dampened by the fact he's rather certain Akai won't kill him.)

"Caught you." Rei can't help the satisfaction slipping into his voice.

Finally. After three years, their game of cat and mouse is over. He'll have his answers.

The most pressing of which-

"Where's Scotch?"

The words cut into the silence, sharpened by fear. His best friend might still be dead, after all. (If he isn't, why hasn't he contacted Rei?)

It's not like he has much to go on to suspect he's alive, besides the fact that Akai himself came back from the dead. Rei can only hope he brought Hiro along.

Before Akai answers, there's a click. The world becomes dizzyingly bright, expanding past the muzzles of their guns.

Rei blinks the disorientation away. Spots silhouettes from the corner of his eyes. He hasn't met them before, but he's familiar, of course, with the owners of this house. How long have the Kudos been watching them?

While he's busy processing that revelation, Akai holsters his gun. Part of Rei hates how nonchalant Akai is about all of this, exposing himself so easily. Like Rei isn't a threat, won't put a bullet in his head because of a couple of witnesses. (Hates that he's probably right.)

"I propose a trade. For old time's sake."

(The words leave a bitter taste with Rei. They haven't exchanged anything, not goods, not words, not warmth, in years.)

Akai snaps open a cheap flip phone - likely a burner. His thumb hovers over the call button. The fingers of his other hand, long and dextrous, wrap around the barrel of Rei's P7M8, tugging gently, but insistently.

Rei considers his options. He holds no illusions - without his gun, he won't be able to dispatch Akai. But he's more than capable of holding his own for long enough to escape, if need be.

(He could just fire, right now. It wouldn't have to be lethal. Could take the phone by force. But chances are, whatever information Akai has, he'll be much less willing to share it with a bullet wound.)

Rei looks up at Akai, meets his green, green eyes. The part of him that shows genuine emotions, some days. (Not that Rei is one to talk.)

Finds Akai looking...tired. He wears a small smile, but it's worn around the edges. There's no open mockery, no quiet amusement. It's just the two of them, and an offer.

Rei lets go of the gun. He hopes he won't be needing it, tonight.

.

Akai helps him up, his hand warm and steady. As soon as he's upright, Rei lets go - he can walk perfectly fine by himself, thank you very much.

The FBI agent shows him to the living room, tells Rei to make himself a home. After all, the Kudos have promised to give him some privacy, for his chat.

For a moment, the sniper lingers, gaze caught by the phone. Then Akai casts his eyes down, and leaves Rei alone.

Silence, if not for the crackle of the damned fireplace, fills the room. Rei hesitates for a moment. Then he presses 'call' for the only number in the directory.

The phone crackles with static, beeps as it establishes connection, then-

"Hi, Zero."

The world stops moving. Relief floods his system, sapping the tension from his muscles. He leans against the soft backrest, breathing freely for the first time in a good long while.

.

Their talk is short. Rei asks some questions to establish it's truly Hiro, not an imposter (though that would make a very poor basis for the negotiation the Kudos have planned).

Hiro tersely explains some things, although he isn't allowed to give away much. He's in the FBI's witness protection program. That they're talking at all is a massive bending of the rules, authorized only because of Akai's insistence. He claimed it was of critical importance to their mission.

It certainly is, to Rei.

.

The next hours are a blur.

The sofa dips when Akai sits down at his side, the Kudos already having taken their seats on the other side of the small coffee table. (He wishes Akai would sit farther away. That he be less reasonable in his assumptions and demeanour.)

It's somewhat surreal to think that celebrity actress Kudo Yukiko of all people gives him a steaming cup of chamomile lavender honey tea. Good thing working with Vermouth has knocked most of the starstruck behaviour out of him; his younger self would have made a fool of himself.

He can't afford that. After all, they are seeking him out in an official capacity, requesting PSB senior agent Furuya Rei's cooperation.

It certainly is strange for them to reach out through him, considering his known enmity of Akai. But he's a professional - he might be reluctant to work with the man, but it's not his decision to make. He'll relay the offer, unless it's utter garbage.

So he pays attention while they share what they can of their plan to take down the organisation. Listens to their pledge for equal contribution, and their promise of crediting the PSB with a successful operation; an obvious play intended to soothe the wounded pride of the Japanese, after years of illegal activity. But it's the least they can do.

If one were to ask Rei, the offer is certainly worth considering. The PSB has been working the case for five years now, and while they have gathered intel, and managed to place Bourbon as a vital asset, they're barely closer to shutting the organization down than when they started. It's sprawling, interconnected with various businesses, and, worst of all, active internationally. If they don't cut off all its heads at the same time, odds are the members will simply flee to a different branch. Maybe lie low for a bit, and then go about their business with renewed vigour.

It seems like an international cooperation might just be necessary to achieve this task. So he'll be their messenger; it's above his pay grade to decide whether to take them up on the offer or not.

Though privately, he hopes his superiors agree; every day they lose ground to the organization. By this point, Rei doesn't really care anymore whose plan it is that finally does the organization in, as long as it gets done. (And as long as he and the PSB are finally treated with the appropriate amount of respect.)

Still, he can't help thinking they wouldn't be having this conversation now, if these foreign agencies had respected the official channels ahead of time. Maybe Hiro could be hiding in Nagano then, with his brother, instead of being confined to the other half of the globe. In the US, of all the terrible places to be. He shivers.

.

By the time they're done it's very late. Rei is already half-dozing off, despite his best efforts to stay awake. It would be highly irresponsible to drive in this state, so he's asked their hosts for a coffee (he's sure a place housing Akai will have more than enough of it to go around). He'll just rest his eyes for a moment, until they're back.

.

Something light is being dropped on him, almost stirs him to consciousness. But it's warm, soft, and smells of huddling together in an abandoned apartment.

(Of long-forgotten small comforts.)

Not a threat.

Thus satisfied, his body collects its due, and he's dragged back under, into deep, dreamless sleep.

.

Which brings Rei to the reason he's late.

Someone, and he has a very good idea of who it was, put his phone in airplane mode, drew all the curtains shut, and kept the rest of the house quiet.

(Let him sleep for as long as he needed to.)

So Rei wakes up with a start, in a barely familiar place, the digital clock on the wall indicating it's way past opening time for Poirot. Shit.

He grabs his belongings, pistol, clothes and keys and all, and dashes out the door. He swears he can see Okiya - no, Akai, he was right, damn it - look down on him from that favourite window of his. Asshole. Contrary to him Rei has a job, a cover to maintain. He'll get back at him, yet.

.

It should probably worry him that he can perform the drive to Poirot on autopilot. Too many late-night stakeouts turning into impromptu naps, requiring him to drive straight to work after. So much trouble, over nothing. If Akai had just cooperated sooner-

Then, what? Rei hadn't managed to track him down before his supposed death, and the less interaction there is between Okiya Subaru and Amuro Tooru, the better for both of them. He grinds his teeth, barely manages to brake in time for a redlight.

(Hates that he understands the caution, to a degree.)

.

The universe really is conspiring against him, today.

After the lunchtime rush, a certain pocket-sized detective is ushered in through the door, followed by his guardian and her best friend. The kid gives him odd looks all throughout ordering lunch, too sharp in a way that makes the hairs at the back of his neck stand in up. Rei gives him his sunniest smile, and an extra packet of sugar. He's played games with Gin and Vermouth in worse conditions; he won't yield to a particularly precocious six-year-old.

Despite getting more sleep than the last three nights combined, he's not feeling too well. A single good night's rest can't undo weeks of insomnia. If anything, it only makes apparent what he's lacking.

He finds his mind wandering, glad the preparation of food comes automatically, by now. Whisk and mix and pour. Fry, remove from the pan...

"...uro? You seem unwell."

Too-familiar green eyes stare back at him, bags under the eyes and all. Rei barely manages not to flinch.

Of all the people to catch him spacing out, it just has to be Akai's little sister. The gods must truly hate him.

"Ah, miss Sera. I apologize, I was just pondering some new options for our menu." He winks, gives her his most dazzling smile. "The chamomile lavender honey tea cake has me under its spell."

In response, she just wrinkles her nose, unimpressed. Squints at him with those jade eyes that always see through him too easily.

"Are you sure you're not running a fever? It seems a little warm in here already, yet you're working in a sweater."

Rei blinks at that. The temperature seems fine to him. Azusa hasn't said anything about it either.

"I appreciate the concern, but I assure you, I'm perfectly fine. Now, what can I get you?"

One slice of red velvet cake (of course - why did they even keep that on the menu?) and a macchiato later he's rid of her.

For now, at least - she's joined her friends at the window seats, and judging by the way she keeps sneaking glances at him when she thinks he isn't looking, he hasn't seen the last of her yet.

Still, her questions are odd. Surely he doesn't look that terrible?

(Vermouth has taught him some of her secrets; he's been concealing the shadows under his eyes for a while now. Nobody's ever found him out. Why is it now that people notice?)

.

He continues to work mindlessly, unfocused. This damn shift just doesn't seem to want to end.

He just about manages to avoid knocking Ran out for leaning over the counter, into his space. She remains blissfully unaware of the danger she just escaped, smiling brightly, kindly.

"Excuse me, I have a question."

Rei closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, counts to four. Smiles at the girl. "Go ahead", he says, continuing to whisk some cake batter.

Ran leans in closer, conspiratorially.

"Masumi is too shy to ask" - that's a bold-faced lie, if he's ever heard one, and he's something of an expert on the matter - "but she'd love to know where you got that sweater."

Now, Ran's a lovely young lady, always eager to help. It's a pity she's being manipulated for Sera's gain. Because there has to be more to the question, even if Rei can't see it yet.

Of course, he can't tell the girls the truth - Kazami bought it for Bourbon's cover. But the best lies are closest to the truth, so-

"I apologize, but I do not know where it was bought. A friend gave it to me." His best calculated-apologetic smile smoothes the blow, hopefully.

"Oh. I see." Ran visibly deflates. Still, her good manners prevail. "Thank you, though!" And with that, she's heading back to her table.

Strange. What could Sera possibly want with his sweater? If she wanted to track him down, surely there's more efficient ways, and it's not like he doesn't have a dozen similar cream sweaters-

Wait. Cream?

Rei's pretty sure he dressed in black to infiltrate the Kudo manor. He's not been home and he hasn't changed for work.

He manages to supress a groan, but he's sure there's some unpleasant emotion visible on his face.

...he must have grabbed the sweater along with the rest of his belongings in the morning rush.

Now that he's looking at it, it's clearly a little too large for him. It's also warm, fuzzy, soft, and utterly unoffensive. That's probably why it didn't register, before.

The sweater does smell decidedly of Akai - cigarettes and a hint of his obnoxious aftershave. The warm scent of curry is new - though unsurprising, given his foray into cooking. Great. That's why they've been staring at him. Sera likely recognizes the sweater and Conan spends enough time with Akai to know the scent.

His gut instinct is to go change, right now, get rid of the damning piece of connection to the man he has too many conflicting emotions about. But a long-sleeved black turtleneck is hardly appropriate work attire for Poirot. Besides, if he changes now, the pair of detectives watching him will just have their suspicions confirmed.

So he grits his teeth, takes in a deep breath that smells too much like Akai, and gets back to work.

.

Rei does change out of the sweater as soon as he's done with his shift.

(It doesn't help. The scent lingers.)

.

He's tempted to just toss the sweater, but can't help feeling like it would be a waste. It's quality craftsmanship, well-worn but taken care of - this kind of sweater would pill, otherwise.

It really shouldn't be faulted for its owner's flaws.

So he puts the sweater in a bag, intending to have it dry-cleaned and give it back later.

He should really hunt down Akai, too, but if he's honest, he's just too tired. He probably shouldn't even drive, in his condition, but he needs to get to a safe place, to think about the developments of the night.

.

He reports to Kuroda, showers thoroughly, and falls into bed.

.

Rei can't have slept long. The sunset colours the world in blood red hues by the time he wakes up, out of breath, heartbeat too fast.

Visions of smoke and ash cling to him. Explosions, destroying him one by one, until nothing remains but death alone.

Hagiwara and Matsuda, taken by violent flame.

Hiro's remains, crushed and burnt beyond recognition.

Akai's smile, grimly defiant, as he's shot by Kir. He too finds his end in a blaze, lacking glory.

They're gone.

Consumed by the inferno that seems to follow Rei around. Which burns everything he cares about, leaves him freezing in its wake.

(He can't even cry, his tears evaporating in the heat.)

Rei shivers, draws the blankets closer. Hopes for a little bit of cover, a little bit of warmth.

Please. If he could just shake off the nausea. If he could stop his spiralling thoughts. Logically, he knows that's not all true, even if his heart burns. Akai and Hiro aren't dead.

It's a lie, they're alive, it's a lie, they're alive, it's a lie a lie a lie a lie-

A set of sharp barks rips him out of his thoughts, back into the present.

Oh. He's woken Haro.

The little guy stands in front of his bed, ears tucked back and hackles raised. A defiant ball of fluff that cares so much, trying to growl the nightmares away.

(It might just work.)

Slowly, shaking and somewhat off-balance, he reaches down to scoop up his dog. Wiggles the blanket off his shoulders so he may cradle the whining bundle of fur to his chest. It's soothing, to feel the warmth of another living being by his side. They sit, the silence permeated by Haro's huffed breaths. His body heat seeps into Rei's chest, nestles in his heart.

"I apologize for worrying you. I'll be fine, soon."

He's not alone.

Haro nudges his hand, demands to be pet. Rei obliges, of course he does.

He's not alone.

.

Still, the headache is a pain. He won't be able to go back to sleep like this, will need to grab a painkiller.

He makes his way to the kitchen counter, keeping to the walls because he's still somewhat unsteady, carrying his bundle of warmth along.

The dog throws a fit as they pass the bag with Akai's sweater, growling and yapping at it. Despite the circumstances, Rei can't help but smile.

"I'm glad to see we feel the same way about him."

Wait.

Inspiration strikes in the form of a very stupid idea.

Because that sweater, with its stupid mixed scents, reeking of Akai, is proof he didn't just imagine last night's events. Tangible and olfactory and physical proof. If he were to wake from a nightmare, with it by his side...the anger at Akai would surely keep the pain at bay.

It's worth a try.

.

As he goes back to bed, Haro lies down beside him. Rei keeps petting him, one-handedly. With the other, he holds on to a cream sweater that isn't his.

When he breathes, it smells of too-long stakeouts in windy apartments.

Of Rye's extra blankets, the ones he started to bring when he noticed Bourbon always freezing; irritating to no end, how he was always better prepared for cold weather than Rei.

(It smells of Bourbon's cooking, given in exchange for soft blankets.)

Scents of a tentative alliance, as thread-bare as the fabric between them.

Grounded between the warmth of Haro, and the scent of Akai, Rei falls asleep, waiting for the dog days to finally be over.

[kidrauhlschik]

4. Tangled Memories - Lee Know AU

Post Traumatic Amnesia (PTA) is a transient state of confusion, disorientation and memory loss that occurs immediately following a traumatic brain injury. PTA is sometimes also referred to as post traumatic confusional state and can occur from the moment of injury until the return of continuous memory.

The accident was a tragedy.

But it was the best tragedy to ever happen to you.

-

-

Final Part - See pt 1, 2, & 3 on the Masterlist linked above

Warnings: angst, f!reader, enemies to lovers, drunk driving, gaslighting, Fighting, yelling, cursing, angst, heartbreak, lies, angst, accidents, not proofread, minho is mean, lmk if I missed anything!!

Words: 2.2k

-

You find the note the next morning and immediately crumple it up and throw it in the trash. Since when has Minho been so sentimental and needy?

You can understand that he's over whatever rivalry he two of you used to have, but you're not. Up until the day before, you thought Minho was good, perfect even, but opening your eyes and remembering all of the awful things he's made you deal with made things so much different.

For starters, you can't believe that you trusted him. He's just as manipulative and sneaky as he's always been. He took advantage of your vulnerable state and made you depend on him. He would have been okay with you dying that day and all of the sudden he's not.

Yet, he also coaxed you down from your panic attacks, he made sure to always available for when you needed him, he stayed with you around the clock when you were injured. Thing is, you wouldn't have gotten injured if it wasn't for him.

The back and forth is overwhelming so instead of pondering on the fact you go to check your phone, which probably made things even worse.

Chris: He told me. Im so sorry. Its all my fault.

Innie: Wanna talk? I heard what happened.

Seungmin: I can't believe you didn't tell us you were remembering stuff.

Hyunjin: I'm sorry for keeping you in the dark. We need to talk.

Lix: Hey wanna come over? I can make us brownies and we can talk things out.

Changbin: Are you okay?

Jisung: Minho is really sorry. I am too. We all are. Can we talk it out?

Chris: Please?

Not wanting to deal with everything right now, you shut your phone off and begin your day. It's time to clean up and enroll in classes again. You should probably catch up with your other friends as well, you'd been very distant because you were always hanging out with Minho. It's best to keep busy and avoid thinking about that snake.

Tragically, as snakes would have it, Minho manages to slither his way inside your thoughts on a regular basis for the next month. As much as you hate it, you couldn't help seeing him in everything. He was in your sheets, in your kitchen, next to you on the couch, in the park, in the flowers, and in the sunset. Everything reminded you of him, every version of him, the bad and the good, and you're not sure which one you prefer.

Classes were to start in a week, through your circumstances, the school was able to let you enroll late to your classes, but you were now a year behind. There's so much to catch up on, yet your brain allows something to distract you from your studies, and that something is always Minho. He hasn't made an effort to make contact with you, which reassures you that whatever he had going on was all made up in his head. Maybe it was all a moment of hysteria.

The hysteria felt awfully real to you though. You can't help but doubt yourself and ask if the sleezy, ignorant, cold Lee Minho actually felt something for you, or if you felt something for him. That's why it's better to keep busy rather than to sit and ponder.

Chris: Wanna come over? It'll just be me and Jisung :)

You had forgiven the guys awfully quickly for your predicament. You could see why they'd put Minho in that situation in a moment of anger, they didn't even know that you were remembering your past, and although you wished they would have stepped up more to impede the shit show that happened with Minho, you can tell that they're sorry. They're your best friends after all, but you were still keeping them at an arms distance for the time being. Except for Hyunjin. He always encouraged you to chase after Minho and you couldn't help but too feel betrayed at that. No one else pushed you into his arms but Hyunjin did, and who knows? Maybe if he hadn't, you could've remained civil with Minho instead of playing house.

When you walk inside of Chan's dorm, the smell of warm pizza welcomes you like a warm hug.

"Hey! How are you?" Jisung asks from the couch beside Chan.

"I'm good, thank you." You offer a small smile in return as you take off your coat to lay it on the nearest clean, flat surface.

The place is a mess, there a cups everywhere, the trash is overflowing, and the entire floor had become a laundry basket. "I don't keep you guys in check for a year and all of the sudden your place becomes a pigs den?" You laugh while sprawling yourself on Chris' couch, throwing your legs over Jisung.

"Hey! It wasn't us, it was -" Jisung gets cut off by Chan discretely pinching his leg under the blanket. The younger winces but remains silent.

"Yeah, Jisung's been a mess lately." Chris smiles apologetically.

"Haha. Yeah, sorry." Jisung adds.

You couldn't help but feel as if they were hiding something, but before you could question them, the front door swings open.

"Jisung. What the hell do you want? I was in the middle of practice." The second Minho spots you, he freezes like he did before. Loss for words, he just stares at you as if he'd seen a ghost. He wants to walk out and get as far away from you as he can, but he also wants to run up to you and hold you in his arms. He wants to apologize over and over again, he wants to beg for your love, but he knows better than to think that you'd accept him.

You immediately hop off the couch, quickly on guard, wishing that he wasn't standing in front of you. Seeing him in your memories was very different than seeing him in real life. He looked thinner, tired, and restless. The Minho you had been seeing for the past year looked happy and healthy. Now he was drowning in his hoodie, his hair was messy, and his expression read exhaustion. You couldn't help the worry that seeped its way into your brain.

"What are you doing here?" You ask.

"I live here." Still staring at you in shock, unfortunately, it seemed that he'd gotten even better at hiding his emotions.

"What about your place?"

"I got kicked out for not maintaining the place while I lived with you."

Was he implying that this was your fault?

"You never had to live with me in the first place." An argument. Something you were both so used to, now caused an ache in both of your chests. Your words catch at the base of your throat, and Minho doesn't even have the energy to argue.

Minho finally takes his eyes off of you, scanning the area, looking at the mess he'd made at his friends dorm. The past month had been hell for him. He kept on beating himself up anytime he had a second alone with his thoughts. The only good thing he had done since he left your place was joining the school's dance team, hoping that doing something he enjoyed could take his mind off of you. He was wrong. Every time he showed up to practice, he remembered that you were the only reason he was doing this, not giving up on his dream. He was undereating and overworking himself to the bone, which was not the healthiest coping mechanism but the other option was to rot away in the couch.

He nods and makes a move to turn away, leaving the dorm again.

"Don't walk away Lee Minho!" He pauses his steps but doesn't turn around.

"You wanted me to leave."

"It's not that easy! I don't know what I want okay? I'm in shambles. I want you to leave, but I want you to come back right after. I want you to cry but it hurts to see you in pain. I trust you but I hate you. Worst of all I love you, but I don't even know what's real anymore." You throw your arms up in desperation, not even realizing that Jisung and Chris had left the area long ago. "I just want to know what's real."

Minho finally turns to look at you with an expression that can best be read as indignation. Or was it desperation?

"You want to know what's real? The real thing is that I want to know every part of you, every scar, every bruise, I want to trace the map of you! All of you and every thing about you. My fingers a compass, and your freckles the constellations that I will chart in my heart. That way, when I close my eyes I'll have you in my stars forever, because guess what? You're already in everything else! You're in the sun, in the air, and in my reflection. I'm drowning in the memory of you and the worst part is that I can't even see you!" Minho walks towards you but you stay frozen in place.

"It's never been the way you looked, it was always the way you were. You were like me, both broken and angry. It wasn't until I saw you behind the walls and I was able to see you bare. I would have fallen in love with you with my eyes closed, but I never could because we never allowed each other the chance. You told me that you didn't want to be the shell of who you are, so why can't you let yourself be happy?" He's face to face with you know, a mere couple of feet apart. He was no longer loud, but more so calm. His plea turning into a confession.

"From the moment I saw you making a fool of yourself in that park, I knew that you were worth the broken heart. Finish breaking my heart, and you'll find yourself inside. I'm sorry, but I'll never find the right words for you. You are my everything, always, and even that is not enough."

"Minho stop." Somewhere in the middle of his speech, your eyes decided to betray you and tears were now freely streaming down your face.

"I'm glad I found you, the real you, because before you, I never knew what to wish for. Want me to be honest?" He laughs and runs his fingers through his hair. "I'm terrified of letting you in. I'm scared to see myself more clearly through your eyes, wondering if I'm good enough. I already lost you, but the truth is that not having you scares me more than all the other truths of love. So please, look at me in the eyes and tell me that I'm not being real right now."

He's mere inches away from you, searching for an answer on your face.

So many thoughts but no clear answer runs through your mind, you're just overwhelmed by his confession, the situation, his mere presence, is not letting you think clearly whatsoever. So you break eye contact and make a bee line for the door. While holding the door knob, you stop and say your last words.

"Sorry Minnie."

Minnie.

The one term of endearment that Minho allows to give him hope.

-

Of course on the first day of class you'd be running late. You hated being late and the stress of studying is weighing heavy on your shoulders. How could the morning be any worse?

Luck is a funny thing though. Just when you think things couldn't get worse, they always do.

You bump into someone that simply continues walking, making you drop all of your notecards and papers on the floor. You immediately bend down to begin collecting everything, but there is so much going on around you. People playing around, others trying to find a seat, and more reuniting with their friends after the summer. So much people, so many noises, this is why you're never late to anything. The stress begins to build even more, to the point where your hands begin to shake, needing to move faster in order for you to find your own seat.

His hand comes out of nowhere. Body shoving away the people that were stepping on your stuff, rushing to pick everything up to help you. He hands everything he collected in a neat pile and you cautiously take it. He then turns to the nearest desk on his left, grabbing two coffees and handing you one.

"Hey, I'm Lee Minho. Looks like we're in the same class. Wanna sit together?"

Starting from where you left off was messy, but maybe starting from the beginning wouldn't be so bad. It will take time, but it might be worth it. If everything was real, it will definitely be worth it and more.

"I'm Y/N. I'm down, but I have to warn you, I can be a bit mean at times."

He laughs and hovers a hand on your lower back to guide you to the two empty seats next to each other.

"I wouldn't change that for the world." He gives you a small smile that could also be a smirk. He had the audacity to be cocky?

Despite that, you can't help the little ray of sunshine that warms you from the inside.

“I hope you mean that Lee Minho.”

“I always mean what I say.”

-

A/N: okay, i am not in love with the ending but honestly if it was up to me, i would've ended it on the last chapter. I'm trying something new w happy endings. Thank you so much for reading!!

TAGLIST: @stanstraykidsskz @weareapackofstrays @linos-kitten @cassidymb121

[kandidandi]

God I have been thinking so much about your ysf au and the comment of Moon attempting to get rid of his claws more or less unleashed the brainworms on HOW Moon would get rid of them (First time I had to jot down notes for an idea). Dis ask is gonna be slightly long since I've got 4-ish different scenarios, which are dependent on the structure of Moon's body and the tools available wherever he locked himself in.

1st scenario

Assuming that his jaw can move and his teeth are metal (or something with similar properties), he'll bite the tips of his fingers off, like how humans can. Now that he has bitten off his claws, realization would set in that his teeth are also dangerous. 2 possible ways to neturalizing the danger; 1. He rips his teeth n jaw out (getting rid of the danger) or 2. Locking his jaw shut (no opening, no danger). 2nd way has lesser consequences, since nothing would be exposed. 1st way would eventually lead to total dismantlement, ripping out the jaw would just expose more hazards and removing those new hazards would just start the Domino effect.

2nd scenario

Assuming that the claws are retractable, easier to just rip them off (thats it honestly, not much destruction here)

3rd scenario

Jaw won't open and claws are built into endoskeleton. Moon would either break them off (difficult due to claws having a tiny surface area) orr slowly file them down. Hopefully he has access to a metal file so the process of filing dem claws don't take as long. If not, well, it's a longgg and agonizingly slow process of filing his claws slowly on the concrete floors/ceramic tiled floors to the point that his fingertips are blunt.

4th scenario

Basically he finds a hole small enough to fit part of his claw into and just snaps it off using leverage.

1st scenario is a quick route to straight up dismantling himself (biting fingers off just leaves for more dangers present, with the wires and such).

3rd scenario is my favourite, just cause of the potential agony both AIs would face (and also the amount time I spent thinking about this single scene).

Moon's need to rid the danger is so so very urgent, but process of filing can't be sped up, so much so when you don't even have the right equipment. Even better if there are 'pain receptors' in the fingers (am I evil? Kinda). Moon having to bear such slow pain while also having the time to constantly recall the scene with the actions that disfigured y/n and thinking of all afternaths that can happen, as he's filling them off. The constant repeating noise of scratching against the floor wouldn't drive Moon insane, but for Sun it definitely would.

With Moon ignoring Sun in every capacity, Sun is left hearing this noise. He could turn off his audio receptors sure, but the noiseless void would be much much worse. So he bears listening to this noise, fully knowing what's making it and the reason for its existence

In short, Moon drowns in regret n guilt; Sun is alone with the noise being his only company, along with his thoughts. Both of them going too deep for either of them to help each other in time.

----------------------------------------------

Rambling over wheew. Did I spend too much time thinking about this? Yes. Will I regret some of my takes later? Definitely

Spent about an hour or 2 writing this idea out, which went out of hand honestly speaking. Sorry if the wall of text is disorientating, my brain doesn't enjoy words to be wording right in general. Anyway it's about 4am for me sooo, Guten Nacht!! o7

-beep boop.

OH MAAN PAINGE THIS IS SO GOOD SFDHFDS yes i like the third option the most but man the other ones are insane aswell thanks for this massive ask btw woah /gen /pos

[ultradespairboyz]

This has been something I have been brewing for a long while now! Mainly because it really, really bothered me lmao

See, as iconic as Danganronpa is, the way they depicted a DID system is extremely problematic. I'm not a system myself but even I know the harmful stereotypes of "serial killer alters" and how DID is seen as something "scary" because of these harmful tropes. It is not something "quirky" and it is not something to be demonised. Depictions like these unfortunately lead to misconceptions about this disorder, which I once have had and have seen others have.

And thus, out of spite but also now full of love and passion, I have attempted a rewrite of Toko and Syo! My good homie @banooky (an actual system) has seen me ramble about this rewrite a number of times and has encouraged me to post about it here! Also give them a follow, they're really cool!

That being said, everything shall be under the cut!

First of all, for some context regarding pronouns and such, Syo is a male alter who uses he/him pronouns and is gay as hell. I do see Toko as being bi though!

Anyways, I obviously scrapped the serial killer aspect because that's gross as hell! Like what the fuck!!! That being said, Syo still was initially violent. Not because he's an "evil" alter but because he was a misguided protector who believed violence would protect the system, not realising it was actually stressing Toko out knowing "she" apparently attacked numerous people but not remembering any of it. Even seeing video proof and photos, she couldn't remember it and she was scared of herself for the longest time. They already had a shitty home life in the first place (I gesture towards the canon version of their backstory), so this behaviour only further aggravated their parents.

A lot of the time, Syo would fight (but not kill) those who tried to hurt Toko, whether it be physically or emotionally. He was also very angry at everything and everyone too, even yelling at Toko in their shared consciousness to "stay in line" and to "let him handle things" as he believed that this was the way to keep them safe.

Over time he does eventually become less violent, though he still is very quick to anger. Toko would do her best to supress him over the years once she had learned of his existence, though that did not work as he (and several other alters) would slip through the mental walls she'd attempt to put up against them. But what truly allowed Syo to calm down and reform was what I call a Naegi Intervention.

It had been a long time since he was able to front so the day he suddenly awoke and was front stuck the whole day, he was extremely disorientated. To the point he even put on the wrong uniform (and Toko had gotten both male and female uniforms because she did like the male uniforms but wouldn't have worn the male one in public, even if it seemed more comfortable than a skirt some days.)

Though despite the obvious confusion, most of the class assumed Toko (really Syo) was having an off day, though they were concerned. No one was close enough to Toko at the time though, so they were a little hesitant to ask if everything was okay. But through out the day, Naegi was the one who helped Syo around the school and even walked around with him to help him get his bearings under the assumption this was indeed Toko he was speaking to. The next day, Toko herself apologised and explained the situation to him out of fear Syo had done something terrible again but, Naegi was so confused. But he was indeed willing to learn and understand their situation! And, thus, Naegi became the first person they had ever trusted with knowing about their existence! Over time, Syo would grow less ans less hostile towards others and actually turned out to be a silly yet somewhat awkward kind of guy, though not afraid to speak his own opinion. He would even try to front more often just to speak to Naegi more and even started developing a little crush on him.

Ah but um. Speaking of crushes, Toko and Syo would make fun of each others tastes in men, especially once communication between the both of them becomes more easier. Syo desperately wants Toko to have better taste in men because she only ever goes after the red flags, but Toko thinks Syo's taste in men is boorrrinnngg— He would throw hands with her in their shared headspace over this but he can't bring himself to. If one ever sees them space out and it's not related to them being triggered, they are arguing over who's taste in better. /j

I'm also yet to think of who they would be specifically, but they would also have several other alters in their system! I wouldn't even be surprised if they had many, many introjects from not only the books they would read for comfort in their youth but also the characters from the novels Toko has written. But both Toko and Syo are simply the main fronters. And, hmm, I like to believe that due to Toko's creativity, they have a decent grasp of visualising their inner landscape. Initially, they would have perceived it as a dark set of rooms, but it eventually flourished into a cozy little village by the sea. It's sort of their dream place to be in, in the outer world. They'd love to live in a cozy house by the sea.

I also like to think that over time, they would have gotten comfortable enough with the rest of the cast that they'd allow them to know of their existence too, and be more purposefully covert in their switches. For example, when they have an idea of who'd be fronting for at least the majority of the day, they coordinate their clothing to be more masculine if Syo is the main fronter that day and to be more feminine if it's Toko. But on days they're less certain, especially if they're feeling like they may switch a number of times, they do have more easy to switch cues like their hairstyle (braids for Toko and ponytails for Syo) or bracelets if adjusting their hair turns out to be too much effort a particular day. It really depends on several factors. I also like to think that they also started living away from their family pretty young (and especially after gaining success with Toko's books), so this sort of coordination is safe for them now.

I also like to think that Syo would also get along with Mondo and would train with him too! I think it'd be cute as hell. I'm yet to think about their dynamic with other characters as of now, but I'll perhaps add onto this if I ever do! I'm.. not exactly that deep in the fandom these days anyway.

If I feel silly enough I may even draw this rewrite too!

[dumbbanana]

Out of curiosity, is gijinka'd Lurien's mask covering his eye because its messed up, or is it just a really fancy/potentially magical monocle?

(as an aside, I adore your dreamer designs and the occasional other gijinka'd characters you do - it really helps sell that they come from different backgrounds rather than making everything look all samey)

Hello hello! Thanks for your ask and so sorry for the wait!

Warning for eyes under the cut (at the very bottom of the answer)! Please ask to tag/let me know if I've missed a tag

In my little brain, his mask is covering multiple eyes on that side of his face. Why does he have lots of eyes? Because it seemed cool to me and I like to headcanon him as a dragonfly which are bugs that are known to have very good vision and reaction time to pair with it. As such his eyes on that side of his face serve the same purpose 😁

As to specifics on why he covers his eyes, its not really to do with appearances (i.e. in Hallownest, him having multiple eyes wouldn't be considered odd). The main reason would be to correct his vision. After all, being able to see clearly for miles in all directions out of one side of your face and not the other would be extremely disorientating and distracting. I imagine he does exercise all his eyes regularly anyway so he can adjust accordingly in the event the mask comes off (e.g. when he needs to super focus and react to everything happening around him) .

So to answer your question, the mask would be closest to a monocle in that he wears it to make his vision more manageable, but it's probably closer to an eyepatch with a hole in it to allow for one eye to look around so he can still maintain his depth perception.

Thanks again for your ask! I'm always so happy to get asks about my silly drunk bug hooman designs and interpretations as well as to see others enjoying them! 🥃

[gamerbearmira]

MAGICAL GIRL AU!!! I love magical girls! Can we get some story for this AU? Like how they got their magical girl powers, where the monsters they face come from, the shifts in the family dynamics, what's the name of their magical girl/boy team? Normally magical girls keep their identity secret so 'Magical Madrigals' wouldn't really work

YEAHH‼️‼️

So firstly, they get their powers two years before canon. Their relationships are similar to canon, but get mended far earlier on because the more they fight together, the more they have to work together and generally just get along. Little Guardian Pedro kinda made them get along as well. Antonio was around 3 at the time, so he was more of a moral support, and didn’t get a weapon until after Mirabel’s birthday but before his own.

They wear brooches, which activate their powers. Like I said, I LOVE the Precure pacts, but they aren’t very inconspicuous, and personally I think brooches would be easy to cover up for if anyone ever asked. “It was a gift!” “Oh, I don’t take it off cause I like it so much!” Etc etc. as for a name, I’m not sure 💀 tbh I only used magical Madrigals cause I needed a placeholder name for the AU 😭

Attacks are subject to change but their powers and weapons stay the same. Close to their gift or not. Isabela had a staff and can create plants, duh; she has more creative ability. She doesn’t have to really use regular plants, they can be completely made up as well.

Dolores has a boomerang that, depending on the force she puts behind it and how she throws it, can alter the sound barrier, or in her powered up mode, break it (this doesn’t hurt her, the other team members or innocents).

Luisa is still super strength, but she also has a higher stamina naturally, higher than usual anyway. She can use her scepter to buff the other teammates abilities, but she can only do one at a time,but for an indefinite amount of time.

Camilo has a sword, or rather saber I guess. He trains a lot, so he picks up techniques and what not fast. Idk if you can see it, but the little Diamonds near his head help with his ability, since it doesn’t directly come from his weapon. The ability to disorientate and confuse, to an extent.

Mirabel has spear, and her ability is purification but she can buff, like Luisa (closer to healing I would say). This plays into where the monsters come from, which is still being debating, but let’s say atm that there’s good magic like the candle, but, there is the price of bad magic lurking around in the Encanto, and will target emotionally weak/vulnerable people,or people weak in spirit (mind you, children aren’t exempt from this.)

Antonio is summoning animals. He can’t fully understand them, but understands them enough for them to help in battle. He’s a support I a way, he’s almost never on the front line, too dangerous, but he begs to differ, obviously.

They all have some form of flight/gliding. Hence the little Angel wings. Now they aren’t cruising around like airplanes, but they got hops and an fly for a bit 🥖 These ain’t to scale. Grain of salt.

[childotkw]

If regulus was reincarnated into the Naruto verse, how much damage do you think he would do to the plot??

Hmm, I'd say it'd depend on which era he reincarnates in, the type of reincarnation we're talking (is he born into a ninja's body? is he in his own body? more dimension-hopping than reincarnation??) and if he keeps his magic or not? Naruto's universe has already got insane jutsu, so Regulus whipping out random spells wouldn't be completely out of place. At least at first.

He'd bamboozle most ninja though his obvious use of jutsu but no one can explain the shit he does at the same time because there's no surge of chakra to accompany any of his 'jutsu'.

Levitating shit? Surely it must be a wind jutsu of some kind but there's no breeze?

Teleporting?? Must be some variant of Tobirama's cheater jutsu (Madara's words), but it doesn't require any noticeable marker to move to?

Invading minds and skimming surface thoughts???? They're almost positive he's not a Yamanaka but blond hair is recessive so maybe one of his parents had dark hair??

Honestly, if he's in his original body, the only thing that they have over him is that he's not as physical as a ninja. He's slower, weaker, his reaction time is tiny, and his stamina is terrible compared to a ninja.

But he's not easy prey by any means.

This contradiction is interesting for whichever ninja stumbles across him because he moves like a soldier and can do things even jutsu struggle to emulate but only registers as a civilian to their senses.

For instance, let's say Regulus dies in the cave and wakes up in the forest utterly alone. He's got his wand and absolutely nothing else, but he's disorientated enough that he can't trust himself to apparate.

So he trots off, and eventually hits a tiny village - in Japan??? He thinks??? His Japanese is non-existent but he has enough strength for a translation spell that lets him communicate with a lovely elderly couple that take him in and help him recover.

His panic is slow churning but well-hidden when he eventually figures out that he is very much not where he should be. These people have no idea what England is, or what country they're in - they keep saying something like 'Land of Fire' and mention cities like 'Konoha' and Regulus is genuinely considering that this is a very vivid hallucination cooked up by his dying brain.

Still, he pushes on, recovering from his fatigue only to nearly have a heart attack when he's caught using magic to fix a broken plate. He's got one foot out the door when the old man, Aoi, just goes oh are you one of those ninja people? and Regulus is so confused that he just agrees without really understanding it.

Once he calms down enough, he slowly starts to put together the pieces and comes to the terrifying but somehow believable notion that he's in a different world.

And...well...he has no idea how to get back home. Doesn't really want to, in a way, because his life before had been dark and cruel and besides Kreacher he didn't really have anyone waiting for him. It hurts but Regulus has never been one to lie to himself.

So he lets himself mourn, spends some time coming to terms with his new reality, and then does what he always does - picks himself up and carries on.

He decides to make the most of this new place, first by repaying Aoi and his kind wife by repairing their home and (maybe) laying down some wards to keep them safe. He finds a new meaning in this simple life - helping around this little village, using magic-that-people-here-call-jutsu to help with the seasonal work, healing the sick and injured with improvised potions and tonics...

For the first time in his life, Regulus feels like he's making a positive difference. For the first time, he's using his magic to help people and he kind of loves it.

He doesn't mean to draw attention from Konoha, or to get involved in their politics. It's not his fault these annoying fucking ninja are crawling all over him like weevils, asking questions he's never going to answer. It's not his fault these assholes don't know when to take a hint, and it's not his fault that his short temper leads to him flattening some of them as a warning to stay out of his business.

Jokes on him though because that just makes these bastards more fascinated.

Regardless of the era, Regulus would completely derail things. It's just a matter of who he's unfortunately saddled with - the Founders, Kakashi's generation, or Naruto's.

Either way, he'd be beating curious ninja off with a stick.

[finkinthisfrew]

Anything (Pt.25)

cw: excessive drinking

Chapter 25 I was laying on a hotel bed, fully dressed in a shirt and tie, drenched in sweat. The sheets stunk. No wait, I stunk. I could hear my heart pounding in my chest. Or maybe it was my head throbbing. No wait, it was the door. It hurt my head. I wished it would stop.

"Matty!" I heard George shouting my name from the other side of the door. "Matty, are you up yet?" The banging wouldn't stop. Oh please make it stop.

I stood up, the world tilting sideways as I did. I stumbled. I felt hungover and drunk. I worked my way over to the door. Cursing George, I opened it.

"Hey, mate," George said tentatively as he poked his head through the door. I'd already walked away back to the bed, grabbing a pack of cigarettes and a lighter I spotted on the dresser on the way. I must have bought them last night.

George surveyed the room. It was an absolute mess. Several empty bottles of wine lay scattered across the floor, cigarette butts sat on all the surfaces, and clothes were flung about. George shut the door behind him, spotting the cigarettes in my hand before walking over to the window and cracking it open. I lay back on the bed, cradling my throbbing head in a pile of pillows, then flicking the lighter on, I lit a cigarette, taking a deep drag, feeling the smoke spread through my lungs. It was the only feeling I wanted to feel right now. I think it was the only feeling I could feel right now. Everything else felt numb.

"How are you doing?" George asked, laying down on the bed next to me, not bothering to take off his shoes. I opened my mouth to tell him off before realizing that I too still had my shoes on. They were much filthier than his.

"Oh you know, sunshine and daises over here in Matty Land..." I mumbled. I took another drag of my cigarette, focusing on the nicotine rush instead of the pounding that continued in my head.

"Yeah, you seem it. Definitely look it, too," George said sarcastically. I couldn't argue with him. If this is how I felt I could imagine just how awful I must have looked. I didn't care.

"Oh sod off," I said, my words slurring slightly.

"You're still pissed, aren't you?" George said, referring to my drunken state. I ignored his question, taking another drag and staring at the hideous painting that hung across from me. Looking at it hurt my head. I squeezed my eyes shut.

"What's going on, mate? I thought you were done with all this," he said, gesturing to my entire body. He wasn't trying to take the piss out of me, but it made me angry. I knew he was right and that he was just concerned, which should have been comforting, but somehow it just made me angrier.

"I can't take it. Being this fake version of myself, it blending with the real version of myself, people hating me, people loving me... It's driving me mad, George." I said, the last few words coming out quietly. I felt hollow. Purposeless.

George put his arm around my shoulder, pulling me into him and giving me a cuddle. "I know, mate. I know it's been hard for you," he said understandingly.

I took another drag, then offered it to George who accepted it. He exhaled the smoke, then as he passed it back, he turned to me. "Anna seemed to help a lot," he said gently.

Anna. My eyes instantly filled with hot tears.

My heart swelled. My angel. My darling. The literal light of my life. The memory of her woke me up inside, the numbness no match for the love which coursed through my body. Then, just as quickly as it came, it was replaced by a searing pain, spreading from my chest through the rest of my limbs as I remembered the worst thing. She wasn't here. She was on the other side of the world, too far for me to hold, to touch, to kiss.

"Was it a dream?" I asked George, sitting up, the alcohol in my system making me feel incredibly disorientated.

He shook his head slowly. "No, Matty. That was real."

I hung my head between my knees, letting the tears fall onto the dirty bedsheets. Ash from my cigarette peppered the duvet cover. If I was sober I would have felt bad leaving the sheets so dirty for the housekeeper, but I wasn't, so I didn't.

"I know she's not here but... you were doing so much better after you two met. I thought maybe that would help with... everything." George said lightly, his voice tinged with concern.

I looked up at George, seeing the confusion in his eyes. I loved him for wanting to understand. I wasn't sure if I could explain it, but I tried anyways.

"She sees me, George. Like no one else ever has. To a level I didn't think was even possible," I started, trying to piece it together as best I could through the migraine that rang through my head. "I can't explain it, I've never been able to trust someone like that before. I feel normal with her, human even. I can be myself, 100% without fear of being doubted or disliked. She loves me for who I am and never expects anything of me. She's happy with me just being me..." My eyes started to pool with tears again at the thought of being with her, remembering what it felt like just to be in her very presence. It felt right. And being without her felt wrong. No, not wrong. It felt like torture.

George nodded silently, letting me take my time with my words.

"I feel so seen when I'm with her, but now that she's not here... I feel like I can't see myself anymore. Maybe that's what it is- it's not just that she sees me, it's that she helps me see myself for who I am..."

"I can understand how that would feel like death, having to part with someone who makes you feel that way," George said kindly. I believed his sincerity, he was one of the only other people in this world I felt like I could trust.

"She's like you, but a girl," I started. "Wait, that's... that's weird to say, isn't it?"

George shrugged. "Well, yes, because I'm not interested in snogging you, but she's fucking gorgeous, so I'll take it."

The image of Anna's smile flickered in my hazy mind. Just the thought of her made my insides glow.

"I just mean that before Anna, the only person I've ever been able to trust my entire life is you, George. You're the only person who knows everything about me, knows what I've been through, stuck through it with me, understands me... And with her, it feels like that on steroids. We only met a few weeks ago and she already... she sees me." I shook my head in disbelief. "It's insane. I trust her completely, and she trusts me. She makes me feel like I'm someone worth trusting. I've never felt that before."

George patted my back as tears continued to fall onto the duvet below me.

"I love her so much, it scares me... Being apart from her... it's too hard, George,"

"You're lucky," George said, putting his hand on my shoulder. I turned to him, a look of optimism on his face. "You're so lucky to have found each other. And I think that's something worth living for. And I mean really living for. Do you think Anna would be happy to know that the only life you deem worth living is one with her in it?" George shook his head, "I don't mean to downplay everything you've been through, everything that you deal with, all the bullshit... I know it's so much harder than just flipping an on-and-off switch and being fine with everything when you're not. I just mean, I can imagine it would feel horrible to know that my partner has to do this-" he gestured at my body again, "-to cope with being apart from me. She loves you for who you are, you say, but you wouldn't be who you are if you didn't live the life you have. Don't stop living it just because she's not here. That's unfair to her."

I didn't know how to respond. My mind worked slowly, processing everything George said. He was right. I couldn't hinge my entire existence on Anna, no matter how much it felt like it did. God, I loved her so much. The pain of being apart was unbearable. But the thought of putting that responsibility on her, the responsibility of being my only source of joy and life... I had to agree with George. I couldn't do that to Anna, that wasn't fair.

But it hurt too much to do anything else... Being apart was already impossible, I didn't know how I was supposed to carry on living my life without her. God was I fucked up.

"You're right... I know you're right, George," I said, hopelessly, "I just don't know how to do that."

"It's alright, mate," George said comfortingly, "We'll get there. And if your two's love is as powerful as you say it is, then I have faith you'll work it out."

I looked at George, his eyes full of sincerity. I was suddenly overwhelmed with love for him. He was such a good friend to me, and I rarely deserved it. I loved him so much. And somehow, I always left him to clean up all my messes.

"I'm so pathetic," I said, more tears rising. "I'm sorry, George. I'm sorry you have to babysit such a prat all the time, you never signed up for this."

George looked at me sternly, raising his eyebrows at me. "First of all, I'm the only one who's allowed to call you a pathetic prat. Second, I did sign up for this. In case you haven't noticed, no one's holding me against my will here. Yes, you're definitely a prat, but you're also one of my favourite people on the planet. Hell, I think you're my favourite. I love you, mate."

"I love you too," I said, sobbing as George patted my back. "I don't want you to think I take our friendship for granted, George," I added. George creased his brow, opening his mouth to reassure me, but I cut him off, "No, I need you to know. I know I'm fucked up right now, and I'm talking about Anna like she's my only saviour. But I genuinely don't know what I'd do without you. Sometimes I think... I really don't-" my voice cracked, "I really don't think I'd be here if it weren't for you..."

"You don't have to explain, Matty. We've talked about this, I'll always be there for you." George said, pulling me in for a cuddle.

"I know, I know.." I said, shaking my head in self-disgust. "I just know that I've been such a pain, and-"

"Fuck off, mate," George said, cutting me off with a smile. "I love you, alright? No matter how shit you look," George said, then taking in a whiff of my stench, "Or smell, for that matter. Let's get you cleaned up, alright?"

I nodded my head, wiping my dripping nose with the cuff of my dress shirt, immediately gagging at its smell. The world spun as nausea hit me. I got up too quickly, stumbling over to the loo before I could leave an even worse mess on the bed. I made it just in time.

As I sat with my legs splayed on the floor, resting my head on the porcelain, its coolness providing some relief to my still-surging headache, I heard the sound of the shower turning on behind me.

My heart swelled at his kindness, once again picking up my pieces without hesitation. I didn't deserve George. I didn't deserve Anna either. I had to do something to change that. The only problem was that I didn't know how...

It was at that moment that I remembered I told Anna I'd call her the second I got off stage. I ran back to the bedroom to find my phone. I searched all over the hotel room, finding it on top of my suitcase, the screen shattered. Fuck. I must have dropped it last night. Anna would be so disappointed. A wave of shame hit me.

I unlocked my phone to find a wall of missed calls and texts from her. I opened our text conversation to see her beautiful smile looking back at me. My heart swelled. She was so beautiful. And she was laying in my bed. Without me. I felt my body try to produce tears but it seemed there were none left- I'd run out. How pathetic is that? She also sent several messages asking how the show went and if I was okay. 

The last text she sent was from an hour ago.

Hi my love, I'm starting to feel a bit worried. I'm sure you're just sleeping in- your jet lag must be awful- but just a heads up, I'm going to call George at 7:00 pm (my time) if I don't hear back from you before then. I hope you're okay. I love you so much <;3 

I forgot about our time difference- how she must have spent most of the day worrying if I was okay. I couldn't have hated myself more.

I looked at the time- I had four minutes until she'd call George. I almost hit the call button when I remembered the state I was in. I couldn't let her see me like this. I sent her a quick text:

I'm so sorry love, I lost my phone last night! Just hopping in the shower- the heat here has me looking like a rat and I want to look my most handsome for you ;) but I'll call you the second I get out- I PROMISE x x x &lt;3

I hated lying to her, but it felt much less awful than telling her the real reason why I didn't call her. Another wave of shame washed over me. No, it was the nausea again. I ran back to the loo to throw up my shame.

[araneitela]

While I have these noted in my OneNote, putting them on here may... make it that I write these down more thoroughly faster. But, meta-topics that I'm planning on elaborating on:

— Kafka's semblance of 'boredom' and its manifestation. This is seen across the board through either suggesting or engaging in both more trivial and more significant 'games'. But a great example is the "trial" during the on-going Jepella Rebellion. Throughout the entire sequence, we see the judges with flaring red eyes that glow brighter at numerous intervals, and when she's "let to plead her case" a bit more thoroughly towards the end of it, we're shown a red string breaking (timestamp: 2:08); you see the judges' eyes return to normal and they are in a state of severe mental disorientation and panic. The string breaking marked the intended end of Kafka's Spirit Whisper on them. The entire trial was nothing more than a mockery of the court: her game. As Sam notes at the end (timestamp: 2:32), "You should really stop playing with your food; Kafka." He meant it. Kafka plays games when many likely wouldn't due to a sense of risk. Aside from being immune to this due to the lack of fear that she claims the populace of Pteruges-V (or at least, New Babylon) to have, this playfulness is likely an added manifestation of this. We know that she doesn't fall victim to the same follies as others from this same planet, "I used to be a Devil Hunter (...) When people don’t feel fear, they are dominated by desire and pleasure – they become “devils”, so this may be a different form of 'pleasure' in the simple form of entertainment. The Jepella 'trial' is simply the most evident example.

— The two different manners of speech. We're overtly familiar with the incredibly seductive delivery of most of her dialogue, but there are instances where Kafka's delivery is quite different and it is incredibly intentional. The very first instance of this, is when she first speaks to the Trailblazer. It is not as consistent, and there is still usually a lingering element of playfulness to the end of most words' pronunciations (there are specific lines that are a lot more evident, such as "When you have a chance to make a choice, make one that you know you won't regret" at the end of the sequence). This could be blamed on the fact that this was an early recording and they were undecided; however, the decision of having two different 'vocal deliveries' has been set in stone with Kafka's story/companion quest. Thankfully, I found this to help make it very obvious.

— Not feeling fear does not equate lack of emotions and/or the concept of humanity. For me, 'fear' is merely one of many emotions that humanity possesses, it is tied in with many (all) others but it is not representative, on its own, of all emotions in their entirety. The reason I make note of this is Kafka's inherent tie to musicality, one of numerous great 'arts' that requires great emotion to properly understand and appreciate. Now, part of me wondered if she perhaps lacked this as well, and whether, because of that, this was one of her 'goals' within the Stellaron Hunters as well. But when looking at the individually noted goals for each of them, "they who chase after fear" (Kafka) is separate from "they who inquire meaning" (strongly hinted at being Sam), which renders the question null and void. Aside from that, she actively seems to harbor an element of care towards the Trailblazer, but most undeniably, she actively harbors a semblance of care and concern for Blade's state of being in her story quest. This also means, to me, that Kafka harbors the ability of affection.

— Her character banner was called 'Nessun Dorma', named after arguably the most famous tenor arias in all of opera (yes, you've likely heard it even if you're not into opera). As much as she is very much tied to classical music throughout the game, and showing an active investment in it, this is entirely different as it is a vocal performance, rather than instrumental as all other musical passages used for her have been. Nessun Dorma is an aria in the final act of a musical called Turandot. This is a fantasy tale that unfolds in China, where a beautiful but very cold princess (Turandot) poses three riddles to any suitor who dares court her, and commands the death of all who fail. When an unknown prince (he who sings 'Nessun Dorma) ultimately triumphs, the opera ends in a love story with a happy ending. Hoyoverse doesn't do things without reason, and so this intrigues me relentlessly. But moreover, the riddles and their answers really get the cogs in my head to spin wildly; as this reeks of Kafka in more ways than one:

"What is born each night and dies at dawn?" Hope.

"What flickers red and warm like a flame, yet is not fire?" Blood.

"What is like ice yet burns?" Turandot (the princess in question).

[melanie-ohara]

Alive, Just to Watch the Bruises Heal

Whumpuary, day 11 - prompt: Exhaustion

Commander Shepard suffers the consequences of her resurrection as invisibly as possible

AO3 Here

The new Normandy was disorientating. It used to be fifteen steps to the medbay door, now it was twenty. The table used to seat six, now there were twelve Cerberus personnel sitting and staring as Shepard crossed the floor. She ignored them and focused on putting one foot in front of the other without her limp being obvious, and tapped the 'knock' sensor on the door. 

"It's open," came a familiar voice from inside. Shepard was too tired to place it, but as soon as the door opened her face split into a wide grin.

"Doctor Chakwas!" 

"Hello, Commander," the doctor said. She was far too professional to give Shepard the hug she so sorely needed, but her wry smile was good enough for now. 

"What are you doing here? I never thought you'd work for Cerberus," Shepard asked.

Chakwas' expression turned hard. "I don't work for Cerberus, I work for you. I took a leave of absence from the Alliance to volunteer for Sirta."

Shepard looked at her properly - unlike the other personnel, Chakwas was wearing a red medical jumpsuit emblazoned with the Sirta Foundation icon. She nodded. "That's good. At least someone here isn't on the payroll."

Chakwas activated her omni-tool and started scanning Shepard with a warm orange beam that prickled slightly against her skin. "You don't trust them?" she asked.

"What are you doing?" Shepard asked, instead of answering. 

"I'm scanning your implants for rejection," Chakwas replied, frowning at the readout on her wrist. "And I don't like what I see, Commander."

"I'm fine," Shepard said, standing up straight and clasping her hands behind her back in case any of the crew happened to look through the window. Chakwas noticed, like Shepard knew she would. Put on a face, the world is watching.

"Rejection sensitivity will present as scarring," Chakwas said. "Which will hurt."

Shepard nodded. It already did, but she didn't need to say that out loud for Cerberus' bugs to hear. 

"Other than that, you're the picture of health. You should get some rest though."

Shepard snorted. "Your scans told you I'm sleepy ?" 

Chakwas smiled. "No, your eyes told me that. I imagine Cerberus has had you running around shooting things, against my medical recommendations?"

Shepard shrugged. "It's what they need me for," she said, failing to keep the bitterness out of her voice. 

"No, they need you to lead , Commander," Chakwas insisted, and switched off her omni-tool with a sigh. "Would it help if I ordered you to go to bed?"

Shepard grinned. "You're a civilian doctor now, remember? I can ignore your advice all I like." 

It was a front, and Chakwas knew it. Shepard needed to present a front for all the spyware and prying eyes on the other side of the glass: Commander Shepard, icon of humanity, indomitable, unkillable, steadfast in the face of any obstacle. Nobody could see how much her left leg hurt her, or the shooting pain that came from turning her head to the left, or the thrumming ache that had been pulsing behind her eye since she woke up on Lazarus Station. 

"As a favour, then?" Chakwas offered, and Shepard nodded. She could accept that. 

"If you insist," she said, and tried not to sound too grateful. She was more exhausted than she had ever been in her life. 

"I'll have EDI wake you when we reach Omega," Chakwas said, and Shepard thanked her on her way out. 

There was a camera in the elevator, and it made Shepard wonder if Lawson had bugged her quarters too. Cerberus wasn't big on privacy, so it wouldn't surprise her, but she hoped she'd at least get to sleep alone. There had to be somewhere she could let the mask drop. 

A discreet omni-tool scan as she entered the obnoxiously large living space revealed spy devices embedded in the clock, wardrobe interface, and the water monitor of the ridiculous fish tank. According to the scan, they were only recording sound, but she didn't trust a commercial VI to be accurate with military tech so she kept up her facade all the way to the ensuite bathroom. Thankfully, the scan was silent there. There could be bugs functioning outside of the detection range, but she no longer cared. 

Her limbs had never felt so heavy. She had been unconscious or worse for two years, but it felt more like she'd spent that time on a treadmill with a Widow sniper rifle strapped to her back. Her leg was in agony, but even that was dulled by the base need to collapse and sleep . There was something she had to do first though. Now that she'd allowed herself to feel the pain, limping to the sink was slow, and every step sent a sharp stab that jolted up from her knee to the base of her spine. Shepard let it slow her down for once.

The face that looked back at her in the mirror was her own, but not quite. She'd only seen herself in windows and brushed metal walls, but this confirmed what she already expected. Stitching her body back together had left her scarred, but she could handle that: it  was a small price to pay to cheat death, after all. Her old scars, though, the scars that she bore with a soldier's pride - they were all gone, wiped away by a facial reconstruction that was either based on an out of date image or, worse, corrected flaws. Shepard's fingers played slowly over the unnaturally clean skin where they used to be and felt tears come to her eyes. 

Her leg gave way. It had been threatening to go since Freedom's Progress, and she was relieved it had at least happened in private. Shepard stumbled backwards until her back was against the wall behind her and slid down, stretching her injured leg out in front of her. Her head lolled back into the corner and Commander Shepard cried. Her chest heaved and her breath came in sharp gasps - each one hurt as the implants holding her ribcage together complained. She was a half-broken half-machine with one purpose that she didn't feel like she could fulfill. All she wanted to do was sleep for a hundred hours. According to the clock in the other room, she had three. 

Eventually, the tears dried up. She seriously considered staying where she was and sleeping on the bathroom floor, but for the sake of both the monitoring devices and her aching body she knew she had to get to bed. Getting back to her feet was hard and painful work, but she managed it. Shepard wiped her eyes, forced her back to straighten, and ignored how much walking confidently out of the bathroom hurt. It wasn't far to the bed, and her vision was already narrowing until all she could see was the crisp white covers and an impossibly fluffy pillow. At least comfort was something Cerberus valued more than the Alliance. 

Shepard barely made it. She had to crawl onto the bed rather than walk all the way to the side, but that was natural enough - and crawling didn't hurt her leg nearly as much. As soon as her head met the pillow she felt the tension evaporate from her limbs and she let out a soft mumble as an impossible weight lifted from her shoulders. Now all she had to do was manage three hours without sleep-talking about how much it hurt. 

Shepard's eyes drifted closed.

"Commander Shepard?" the soft, flat voice of the ship's AI said. Shepard opened her eyes again.

"EDI?" she said. 

"We are arriving at Omega."

Shepard's heart sank into the shoes she was still wearing. The clock told her those precious three hours had been and gone, and she felt exactly the same. 

Sitting up took more effort than fighting Saren.

"Thank you, EDI," she said. Her voice sounded clear and relaxed. She took a moment to silent curse the galaxy in general, and then got out of bed.