#it almost seems like it’s a part of human nature to compare ourselves to others | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sirowsky · 1 year

Text

Part 24 - Progress Takes Time

Pero Tovar and Female Reader (nicknamed Bee) Modern AU

You're trying to navigate helping William whilst also circumventing Pero's overprotective tendencies.

Creator chooses not to use Warnings! This is 18+ONLY! I'm so sorry for the wait, my loves! I'm once again battling myself to try and not put so much pressure on myself to write, and that means taking it slow and letting it happen naturally. I hope someone out here still enjoys the story, and again, I'm sorry for being so erratic with my updates <3

Word Count: 4168 Masterlist(this story) Author’s Masterlist

Link to Part 25

<><><><><><><><><><>

Groot had been so focused on your partner, trying to comfort him from the pain of his own guilt, while you’d stepped into the cell, that even he had reacted too late to help you. And when his human brother had leapt onto his feet once he’d realized what you’d been doing, the dog had remained frozen to the spot on the floor where he’d laid beside Pero, with his ears and head held low.

Almost as if your actions had been so determined and sure that you had even managed to convince the animal that he wouldn’t be able to stop you, even before you’d stepped away from them. If so, that might explain why Groot still didn’t move as Pero pulled you from the room and slammed the door shut.

“Pintora, what the fuck were you thinking!? He could’ve killed you!” he barked at you, but his voice was weak and fractured, overwhelmed by the fear of knowing just how easily he could’ve lost you right then.

“He stopped, Pero,” you countered, with tears still streaming down your face and a terrible tremble bothering your empty hands. “He stopped.”

“You got lucky…” he cautioned, because he was not at all ready to believe that William had deliberately backed off.

But you soured then, as if his perspective was offensive for some reason, and stepped away from him to pick up the little piglet that you’d dropped on the floor when you’d caught him earlier. Crossing your arms over your chest, you pinned the stuffed animal at the top of your belly, which already seemed to be your favourite spot for it, and glared at him.

“I understand that you’re still frightened of him, but I’m telling you that he heard me. I got to him, I could see it in his eyes.”

“Bee… if you ever step foot in that cell again-…”

“You’ll what?” you cut him off, challenging him to reveal his fears in full and stop hiding behind the other man’s evil.

Pero wasn’t strong enough to admit to himself that this was all the result of his own failure, but he also couldn’t conceal his weakness anymore. He crumbled under your strength, unable to fathom how you simply weren’t afraid of the man right then, feeling so small compared to you and the massiveness of your confidence in that moment.

“You can never trust him, mi amor…” he finally whispered, unable to bring any more strength to his voice. “He will kill you if you let him, you must believe that.”

He felt so powerless standing there, all but begging you not to put yourself in danger, when he should’ve just made sure that you never could again. But somehow, he knew in his heart that you would not be stopped, no matter the risk. You had walked into that cell with a conviction of some sort, a knowledge that Pero wasn’t privy to and probably couldn’t understand even if he had been.

You had walked in there knowing… knowing that you would walk out alive. Not just believing it but knowing it so absolutely that even William had felt it in you.

“What I believe, is that if we keep going like we have until now, we’re gonna end up destroying both ourselves and each other,” you calmly stated. “And I will not let that happen. I will defend this family, Pero… even against you.”

That brought his mind to an abrupt stop, because what the hell did that mean? He had never been the threat… had he?

But the more he thought about it, the clearer the answer became. He wasn’t a threat so much as the weak link in the chain. The one that put everyone at risk, because if he broke, the people around him would all suffer. He’d been unable to kill Will, unable to break him, unable to stop this darkness from hurting you and your family, and now, his hope was faltering.

Of course, you had to protect yourself from him. He wasn’t giving you any other option.

“The killing has to stop,” you said softly, coming closer again and uncrossing one arm so that you could take his hand. “We can’t let ourselves become monsters. William is innocent, so if we’re gonna kill him, we have to do it out of kindness, not hate or fear. Only as a last resort, after all other options are exhausted and he still hasn’t improved. But we’re not there yet. He heard me, honey. I know that he did, so we have to give him one more chance before we can say that ending his life would be an act of mercy.”

Impossibly, hearing the strength in your voice and the quiet but absolute resolve to not let this situation bring you down, managed to give him back some of his hope. Within your courage, he found a way to believe you, even though his own strength had long since left him. Somehow, you were powerful enough to carry the both of you forwards, refusing to let anything threaten your happily ever after, and he had never loved you more.

<><><><><><><>

It would take several weeks of carefully measured steps before William even interacted with you the first time. You started with offering him fresh clothes and full meals every day, all of which he refused for almost a week, until the hunger finally got the better of him. The food slowly restored his strength, and with that, his temper returned.

It was clear that he was still very much suffering the effects of the conditioning and the compulsion to complete his mission of killing you, that much was visible in his eyes every time that he looked at you. But there was doubt in there too. Something that you suspected came from the man underneath all the suffering and manipulation. The real William Garin. The problem was getting that man to take back control of himself.

One positive aspect, and the primary reason why you refused to give up, was that even when you repeatedly put yourself within his reach, he never tried to touch you. And you didn’t think that that was solely because of Pero’s presence in the cell every time that you tried it. Obviously, your partner was much too worried to let you be in there with your would-be assassin alone, but even so, Will’s focus was only ever on you whenever he did react.

You tried not to think to closely about what you knew that Pero had done to him, and what you guessed that he might’ve been unable to tell you. It wasn’t really helpful anyway, and you’d always known him to be capable of terrible things, but the real reason why you stayed away from it, was simply that it scared you to linger on the realization that he could do these things to a man that he loved.

But you also couldn’t judge him for it. You couldn’t condemn his actions anymore than you could hold it against him that he’d sent you away, because you had no idea how dangerous his world really was. That was what all this had finally taught you. That for all the crap that you’d seen and learned in the time that you’d known him, Pero’s world was still too dark for you to ever truly grasp.

You saw it in Will’s eyes too. The knowledge that he possessed and the power that someone with their training and experience had at their disposal. And it wasn’t until you recognized that look in his eyes as the same darkness that you’d always seen in your partner, that you began to understand that you’d only seen a fraction of the truth. That Pero had shielded you from his reality from the very beginning.

Still, there was a silver lining to it all, because the fact that he’d done that meant that his love for you was more powerful than all that. It meant that the light which he’d found in his feelings for you, was strong enough to hold all that darkness at bay. You chose to focus on that, and only that, since it was likely the only thing that would be strong enough to reach into Will’s heart too.

And after nearly a month of seemingly fruitless efforts, it finally paid off. Well… sort of.

You were sitting in a chair which stood against the furthest wall from where he was chained, the one where the viewing glass was, and you were talking quietly to yourself. Pero wasn’t there that day, he was taking care of the horses’ hooves, which had enabled you to sneak down there without him knowing. Something that you did whenever you got the chance.

Not because there was anything you felt like you needed to hide from him, but just because you suspected that your captive might sooner respond to you if his nemesis wasn’t in the room. And since your partner refused to leave you alone with him for even a second, this was the only way to cultivate your own relationship with Will.

“We’re having a girl,” you said quietly, looking down at the little piglet that you were resting on the top of your belly, just because it fit so perfectly there. “Can you imagine Pero with a baby? I kinda struggle to myself, but I know that he’s gonna be good at it. He’s incredibly loving and tender whenever he gets the chance.”

You casually paused then, giving him the chance to respond if he wanted to. You kept the topic mainly on Pero, since that was the common ground between you, hoping that he’d eventually feel compelled to either object to something that you said, or just respond out of annoyance. But he remained silent, so you kept going after a few moments.

“It’s a bit strange to know that the father of your child is perhaps the deadliest human being on the planet. Especially when I’ve never seen him be evil. Because that’s the thing that most people assume, isn’t it? That you can’t be a killer and a good person, that they’re mutually exclusive. But even though I’ve seen him at his worst, I still don’t see evil in him, only fear and doubt. The same things that I see in you.”

He wasn’t showing any signs of listening to you, so you were about to call it a day before your partner would begin to wonder where you’d gone.

“You’re a fool…” the man on the floor whispered barely audibly, making your ears prick with interest and surprise.

“What?” you carefully prompted, hoping that he’d keep going.

“He will kill you,” he continued after a brief pause. “That’s what we are…”

“How do you mean?” you prodded, still trying to spur him into carrying on, because no matter what he said, just the fact that he was finally talking was a victory.

“We are death. Especially to those who care for us. Mark my words, there will come a moment when you’ll regret ever meeting him, and that will be the moment right before you and your family dies.”

He said it with a thick layer of acid to his tone, a deep and dark contempt on full display in every syllable, but you saw through the overtly mean façade, straight to the self-hatred that was boiling right beneath the surface.

“I don’t believe that that’s true, but I can understand why you feel that way,” you said earnestly, knowing that it would provoke him.

“You understand nothing…” he growled, taking the bait. “You don’t know what he really is… the things that I had to stop him from doing every day while we were in training. He’s an animal, and he always will be.”

He was clearly trying to drive a wedge between you and Pero, and you weren’t sure if it was because of his conditioning, continually pushing him to finish his last mission and end your life, one way or another. Or, if it was merely the words of a broken man, trying to make the people around him hurt as much as he did. But you were sure about the fact that he was dead wrong.

“If you truly believed that then you never would’ve invited him to meet your family, but I know that you did,” you challenged, not letting him get the upper hand in the dialogue. “I know that you wished for him to come and visit, that you missed him every day and that your family never felt complete without him.”

He looked at you as though you’d just stabbed him in the kneecap, but he seemed more confused and hurt than angry, and since he didn’t respond, you set about explaining how you knew that.

“You and I have met before. I know that you didn’t live here, but you must’ve worked quite close to my neighbourhood because I often saw you at the store on Hillstreet, the one I mostly use for my weekly groceries. We even spoke a couple of times. You introduced me to Lin Mae and Daisy once, after accidentally bumping into me in the pasta section, and we chatted for a while,” you reminded him, and saw his mind work to try and locate the memory.

Your few encounters had been brief and no more than what anyone would expect of temporary conversations between strangers, but you were good at reading what people left out of their tales, so you’d known from the start that this man had secrets and demons. And while you might never have imagined that he’d been an assassin, you’d always been able to see his pain.

“You never told me anything specific, but I could tell from your behaviour and the gaps in your stories, that something was missing. And when I met Pero and learned about your shared history, I knew right away that he was that missing piece. I know that you loved him. Despite whatever horrors you went through as boys and young men, he was everything that you had for a long time, and you loved him every bit as much as you loved your wife. And that’s not a guess, Will. I know that this is true, as surely as I know that I’m alive, so you can stop trying to scare me with your broken mind and conflicted thoughts. I’m not stupid enough to not be afraid of you, but I’m also not stupid enough to believe the ramblings of someone that doesn’t even know who he is anymore.”

That made the man before you shrink, even though that seemed to go against his still very weak physique. He was little more than a shell now, and there was every reason to think that he would never recover, but you still hoped for a miracle.

“He will always be your brother, William. Despite everything you’ve done to each other, he still loves you. That’s the only reason why you’re still alive, and while I’m sure that you’d rather not be… I want you to know that there’s a family standing before you right now. Not a big one, but one that’s willing to take you in and care for you, all the same. Don’t throw it away without giving it a chance.”

He wouldn’t look at you, and you didn’t need him to. He had heard you, and that was as much as you could ask of him for now. You got up and picked up the chair to take it with you as you left the room.

“You’re a fool…” he repeated himself, still quietly but with much more force to the words this time.

Stopping on the threshold of the cell, you turned back to look at him, and he was meeting your eyes now.

“…if you think for one second that you will ever be safe around me,” he finished, and you could tell from his expression that he was expecting you to find those words at the very least uncomfortable.

But you felt only sad.

“If that’s true, then I pity you,” you replied softly, meeting his hateful glare with nothing but care, which only seemed to further vex him. “No one should go through life so alone.”

He just kept staring at you, so you left the room and closed the door, feeling positive despite the gloomy atmosphere. Because as bad as the poor man still was, this was progress. You locked the cell and then left the bunker, starting the slow walk back to the house in your slightly waddling fashion now that the little one was only about a month away. But as you reached the outdoor fireplace, something made you turn your head to the left, and when you saw what it was, you stopped.

<><><><><><><>

Pero heard you long before you came into view among the shrubs, but he didn’t say anything. He knew that you’d notice him, one way or another, and he wasn’t sure of what he could say that wouldn’t sound accusatory or angry. And sure enough, you looked to the side just as you were about to pass him, and the look in your eyes when you realized that it was him, was all the confirmation that he needed as to what you’d been doing.

You stopped and turned to face him with slow, measured movements, taking your time to buy yourself a moment to think, which was fine with him, because he really did want to know what the hell you were thinking.

“I’m sorry…” you started, sounding every bit as apologetic as the words suggested, but it did little to soothe him. “I thought that he might open up to me better if you weren’t there.”

That did sound like the sort of reasoning that you would have, but even so, it was not good enough to justify putting yourself and your baby in that kind of danger.

“I know that you don’t agree,” you tried to appease him, “but it worked. He talked to me, honey.”

As surprising and positive as that was to hear, it still wasn’t a good enough reason. Nothing was.

“Try this again, and I will change the locks so that you can never go down there again,” he warned, surprising himself with how hard he sounded.

“Pero… I’m the only one that’s gotten through to him. If we’re gonna have any hope of saving his life then you have to let me build a relationship with him,” you reasoned, and while he knew that you were entirely correct, it made no difference at all.

He stood up and stepped closer to you, reaching out to take your hand as soon as he was close enough, and then put his other hand on the side of your belly. Then he looked into your eyes and tried to convey every thought and every feeling that he was having in that moment, but couldn’t articulate for the life of him.

“I. Don’t. Care.”

A shiver passed through you at that, as you felt everything that he was cramming into those three little words and realized what he was saying.

Nothing matters more than you. More than her. More than us.

Nothing.

But you weren’t one to be controlled. If he knew one thing about you, it was that he would never be able to expect you to just do as he said, no matter how fervently he insisted. If you had been so inclined, he wouldn’t have had to send you off to a fucking island in the middle of the pacific with no means of getting yourself back. He loved that side of you as much as he dreaded it, because it made you strong but also unpredictable.

“He still loves you,” you countered, still unwilling to just leave things be and focus on taking care of yourself for now, and he sighed at your endless defiance.

“I love you, pintora, and that is a fulltime job these days, so forgive me for not having the energy to care all that much about the man that still wants to kill you.”

“But that’s my point, Pero,” you persisted, even as he began to drag you back towards the house. “You both still care about each other, and I’m the unifier between you. I’m the one that can reach you both and reunite you.”

“And my point is that even if that’s true, this is not the time for any reunion. We have our own lives to tend to.”

“So we just leave him down there by himself while we go off and build a family without him? No… I’m not gonna do that, honey.”

“Are you not even a little bit worried about what he can do to you? To all of us?” he challenged, truly fearing that you weren’t seeing the reality of your circumstances right then.

“Of course I am, I’m not stupid. But I’m also not cold or uncaring, and you can stop pretending that you are too, because I know you. Deep down, you miss him more than you’ve ever missed anything.”

He didn’t have a response to that, because it was damned well true, but it was also not what he wanted to think or talk about for the foreseeable future.

“Can we just pretend to be a normal couple for a minute and talk about nurseries and baby stuff, not killers and brainwashing?” he pleaded, to which you rolled your eyes but then conceded with a gentle nod.

-=¤=-

Later that day, you went upstairs to take a bath while Pero helped Dean clear the table and clean dinner away. And much like every time that he and your father had been alone lately, the subject inevitably turned to the unfortunate captive out in the woods.

“You do realize that you can’t keep him down there indefinitely, right? As safe as it might feel for now, sooner or later you’re gonna have to deal with him,” Dean prompted, making Pero scoff.

“Oh, your daughter is already on top of that.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that she spent the hour that I was in the stables with you today, alone down there with him. And if I know her, she was in the cell with him the whole time,” Pero explained, and just saying those words put a sour taste in the back of his throat.

“Shit…” the older man breathed, obviously equally unhappy with this development. “That’s not good. If she feels like she’s making progress then neither of us are gonna be able to keep her out of there.”

“I have already warned her that I will change the locks if I must.”

“Yeah, like that’s gonna stop her…” your father sighed, shaking his head in what seemed like defeat, even though the battle for your safety had only just begun.

“Dean…” Pero almost whispered now, as real fear constricted his chest. “I’m really scared that she’s gonna make a mistake. That he’s gonna delude her into trusting him and get her to lower her guard. He was always the best of us at infiltration and manipulation and that’s not a skill that Lang would’ve stripped him of.”

“No. But you’re not giving Bee enough credit here,” the older man reminded him with a sharp brow. “She’s smart, and tremendously good at reading people, especially when it comes to what they themselves don’t realize that they’re after. She won’t be fooled, son. Even by someone like William.”

“I hope you’re right. Because if he lays a finger on her… I will douse him in acid and leave him there to die slowly.”

“If it comes to that, I’ll help you. But let’s not start digging graves just yet. I still have the utmost faith in my daughter, and I truly do believe that if anyone can reach William, it’ll be her. She managed to tame you, after all,” your dad finished with a wink, making the younger man smile despite his worries.

Dean’s solidness and calm reasoning was soothing to Pero, particularly when it came to his fears and worries about you, so the conversation left him feeling better. There was something about knowing that those same characteristics existed in you as well, that made him feel like everything would somehow be okay. And he needed that feeling more than usual on that day.

He stepped up to the older man while opening his arms in a silent request for a hug, which was warmly received, and when Dean’s long, muscular arms wrapped around his back and held him close, Pero felt safer than he had in a very long time.

“You are the best father anyone could ask for. Thank you,” he mumbled into the man’s shoulder.

“And I couldn’t have hoped for a better partner for my treasured only daughter, so thank you right back, my beloved boy.”

===============

Link to Part 25

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging, I would dearly appreciate it.

@idreamofboobear @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @sjdraws-00 @shsoba05 @radiowallet @thisshipwillsail316 @myfavpedrothings @cannedsoupsucks @bluegalaxyprime @tintinn16 @winter-fox-queen @shadesofnerdlygrace @tanzthompson @little-mrs-morales @hotchlover @gallowsjoker @cosmicbreathe @criminalmind1927 @harriedandharassed @bilibiche @anditsmywholeheart

#pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar x female reader #pero tovar x fem!reader #pero x reader #modern!pero #modern!au #the great wall modern au #pedro pascal characters #sirowsky stories

62 notes · View notes

lesewut · 1 year

Text

γνῶθι σεαυτόν ("Know thyself!")

Sijakovic, Bogoljub “The Presence of Transendece- Essays on Facing the Other through Holiness, History and Text.” Published 2013 in Los Angeles by Sebastian Press, Western American Diocese of the Serbian Orthodox Church in collaboration with The Institute for Theological Research of the Faculty of Orthodox Theology of the University in Belgrade.

As the title emphasizes, the book deals with "the presence of transcendence", the absence of which is so acutely felt throughout the rest of our world, that often seems disoriented and senseless. In Sijakovic's philosophical-theological conception, history plays a very important role.

As a relatively sceptical person, I often find revealing argumentations in countries of the world, that define history as a part of suffering (in Western Europe history is thought in terms of making -> Historical Achievements), like we can find in the Balkan (14th Chapter: A Critique of Balkanistic Discourse: Constribution to the phenomenology of Balkan "Otherness") . History and the interpretation is a huge and exciting topic, sometimes it is almost forgotten, how long past historical events are still instrumentalized and influencing our live :

"History is the battleground of our existence. It is that dimension of reality that demands our constant attending because it is both an indispensible constituent of our identity and a playground of virtually unlimited possibilities for deciption. Those who are powerful write the narratives that fill our history books. They "explain" to the rest of us all the "whats" and "whys" in history."

With the help of theology and philosophy, it is possible to reconstruct the past instructively. Beside sorting the facts and offering appropriate accounts, we need to know ourselves and our "nature" , to learn how to react and respond adequately, as we have a responsibility on the interpretation, as it can advance to identification. However, the philosophical aspiration to comprehend the "reality" as a whole, is a very ancient idea. Historical science is complex and there is no object of history completely independet from historical knowledge (T. Litt: "The theory of historical knowledge is simultaneously the theory of historical reality, vice versa." Cf. "Geschichtswissenschaften und Geschichtsphilosophie"). Also the concept of history decided what is to be an object of history, which is again determined by the conceptualization of history, especially by the major interpretative concepts, such as "longue durée" (Braudel) ; "episteme" (Foucault) "unsurpassable horizon" (Satre) ; "Paradigm" (Kuhn). There are many other concepts of interpretation of historical "facts" (there is no objective history, it is always about our understanding and explaining), interesting is also the theory of Nietzsche, who uses the perspectivists approach to history in order to stand against both the positivsts ideal of objectivity and the teleological historical constructs of Hegel ("Weltgeist") and Eduard von Hartmann.

Requirements for the Historian are also compared and interlinked with the social power (my recommendation by Popper: "The Open Society"): History of humanity is the history of the political power. And also Foucault connects the narrative of the Historian with the ritual of power, as those terms are congenital for a long time, the history of the mighty is tying people legally to power, the speech of the power that establishes order. "It is the fascination generated by the glory of reknowned people and deeds: The light of law and the radiance of glory are the functional principles of history [Foucault "Security, Territory, Population: Lectures at the College de France, 1977 - 78]. Both law and glory issue forth from power, and power issues forth from war. Also an important role of historical science is the formation of the identity of a given community, so it cannot be "over-valued" (in the sense of national identity).

So what is true and correct? It is very difficult, as historical knowledge is always a self-knowing and in the historical science, the self-understanding of man is manifested:

"The ends that he follows and the image of himself are discerned by man in the mirror of history. That mirror is held for us, as she calls us to memory and remembrance (Burkard Liebsch "Probeleme einer genealogischen Kritik der Erinnerung: Anmerkungen zu Hegel, Nietzsche und Foucault") , by the muse Clio whose mother is the goddess of memory, Mnemosyne. He who memorizes and remembers- he knows himself."

So it is just logical, that Sijakovic is also highlighting: “The Anthropological meaning of self-knowledge: Toward the Apollonian precept "Know Thyself!"

But also other cornerstones of Sijakovics view are presented, like the confrontation of the human-being in any forms of communication and continuing processing aims at truth and authenticity, which will never end in accomplishment. But maybe in a less aggressive world?

Just a little throw-in, because very informative are also Sijakovics speculations of the “Metaphysics of Light” the theories about “The Paradigmatic and Tautegoric Nature of Poetry”

4 notes · View notes

kendrixtermina · 1 year

Text

But what do we MEAN by Feeling, Thinking, etc.

I hadn’t put these on tumblr & it occurred to me that I probably should

I think a great amount of the confusion regarding enneagram / mbti combos is that they use the rather vague colloquial terms „thinking“ and „feeling“ to mean different things.

„Thinking“ in the mbti is task-oriented reasoning, „feeling“ is reasoning in terms of intentional actors. Indeed a dichotomy between explaining things through either causes or intentions, living or nonliving systems, seems somewhat inbuilt in the human mind, I think there are experiments that show even babies make this distinction.

Obviously, if you are looking at intentional actors (be it yourself or others), it’s natural for emotions to be a part of that reasoning. Intentional actors usually have feelings; Sticks & tools do not.

You might see that people don’t always make a clean split – a surgeon may treat removing an appendix as a task in which the patient is understood object with parts so he can keep a cool head, a poet might say that the leaves are „dancing“ in the wind to evoke feelings in the reader or express how his perception is colored his own.

„Thinking“ in the enneagram centers of intelligence sense is rather explicit, effortful, ‚system 2‘ thought. (regardless of what kind it is: logic, planning, imagining etc.)

General humans avoid doing that cause it burns alot of sugar and less costly processes work just as well, but some avoid it less than others. Or maybe us head types are just touchy little fuckers that have a more exaggerated response to less stimulus.

The upside of this is that it’s flexible & adaptable to tasks that we never encountered in the savannah, and that it can override our intuitions. Also, if you used explict reasoning you can give a reason for why you arrived at the conclusion, change parameters and „rerun the simulation“.

The downside is that it is slow and costs a lotta juice, also, it doesn’t always have an answer if there is not enough data, whereas intuition & association can almost always supply some usable guess.

„explicit thought“ is needed to apply a method that is counter to our intuitions, to consider multiple factors at once, and to doubt (since doubting requires holding two contradictory ideas in your mind) – its probably no coincidence that type 6, the „pure“ thinking type, is also the most doubting.

„feeling“ here means the middle or mammalian brain, the „associative machine“ or „affect heuristic“.

Enthusiasts of cats or dogs more or less know that they have what we would recognize as a „heart“ – the capacity to bond, social emotions shown through complex body language (and unique personality differences related how how they’re expressed), and also, reinforced learning, which is quite relevant when we consider, say, type 3. Feelingsland is the home of motivation.

Another ability of the associative mind is to intuitive translate things to different scales.

If you’re asked to donate money to protect birds from oilspills, most ppl don’t whip out their financial planners, but decide based on how much emotion they feel about those poor, poor seabirds, and then associatively transfer it from hurt feelings to dollars.

This is why most of us can answer questions like „If dave was as tall as he is intelligent how tall would he be“ or why we can understand each other through poetic expressions like „that hurtful statement felt like being stabbed with a knife“ even if none of us have been in a knife fight. Both emotional pain &physical pain are scales.

Likewise when buying a product, most pll don’t go comparing the specs & the evidence for which is best (well… the 6s among us do.) but we go by what feelings & memories we connect with the product & how it fits our idea of ourselves, & may refuse to touch it if it doesn’t.

However, frequent errors in dog training have to do with how dogs can’t „think“, at least not very well – they have rather good associative memories, but they can’t generalize easily. This is why a dog might have to learn to perform a trick in multiple rooms before it gets that the cue always means the same thing, and why its encouraged to use positive reinforcement over punishment cause the dogs may be unable to deduce why they’re being punished, and just associate „you“ with „pain“. Similar caveats apply with small children whose thinking skills arent fully online yet.

That said, I wouldn’t say humans are the only ones capable of „thinking“ – You could make a good case for Crows, Great Apes, Dolphins, Parrots & Elephants, and maybe even Octopi or Bees. Future planning, symbol use, complex problemsolving…

notably, there’s a third category (thought the two systems approach lumps them together), which is intuitive impressions.

The distinguisher here is that it’s somewhat automatic.

If you decided by thinking you can give reasons, if you decided by feeling you can point out your associations, but in the case of a „gut feeling“ decision, you just „see“ it, or „recognize“ or „guess“.

Just as you „see“ the world around you as distinct objects or, unless you’re a grade schooler, can „see“ what a word means without having to go through each individual letter.

That doesn’t mean it’s not sophisticated: Take for instance the example of a doctor who, after a lot of doctoring experience, can recognize some conditions on sight from skin lesions or a characteristic constellation of systems, or an expert chess player who just „sees“ a strong move or that the game will end in three turns.

This also generates impulses, like recoiling when something suddenly comes at you.

So, in terms of functionality, this includes basic survival machinery like spotting snakes or attractive mates, learning by copying or recognizing from experience, and, crucially, spotting what is normal or expected. The intuitive brain has a sort of „autocomplete“ function where it’s always guessing what’s likely to happen next based on everything it’s seen so far in similar places & situations, & is always on the lookout for stuff that is not right or suspicious.

For example, consider a case where a fireman got the sense that something was „off“, ordered his colleagues out of the room, and then minutes later the floor collapsed. He could not say at first what he had noticed, but he trusted it & acted on it straightaway. Only later could he puzzle together that the noise level was wrong & his ears hotter than normal. He didn’t sherlock holmes style logically deduce that the fire had actually started in the basement, but he knew something wasn’t normal.

If this happens again, though, he is likely to recognize it.

Imagine you’re picking clothes.

If you just grab one, that’s going by impression/impulse. (maybe it seemed comfortable, pretty, „looked right“ according to simple criteria, or was simply your first impulse. )

If you pick one that matches your mood, the impression you want to evoke where you’re going, or the feelings, experiences & memories thar you connect with it, that’s association.

If you briefly stand there thinking about which one’s right for the weather, making a political statement, or fitting some theme, that’s explicit thought.

Consider an ISTJ 1, to pick an uncontroversial combo that won’t derail the example into an argument. That would be someone who does a whole lot of „thinking“ in the mbti sense but not so much „thinking“ in the enneagram sense.

He’s evaluating everything by criteria, task oriented criteria, but probably doesn’t often sit there stressing over what the best criteria are, like his hypothetical 6 cousin might. He has some sensory impression of how whatever it is he works with „should“ look & compares against that – is it right, yes or no? If its not, it jumps out at him right away (Si + intuitive spotting of deviations from norm) he puts it right according some some procedure he has previously learned by copying his teacher or gotten from a rule book (though he prolly reads journals related to his job to have the most up to date procedure & constatly improve to fit his high standards), but which, in day to day life, he now mostly just applies meticulously & dilligently with attention to fine physical detail.

If he notices his method doesnt work, he may stop & explicitly think it through, and maybe come up with a better procedure, but mostly what he has active is his intuitive „seeing“ - & where “explicit thinking” is done it may serve as a “water carrier” to his intuitions, to retroactively rationalize his impressions.

If you had some ISFJ 1 instead much of her evaluation would concern the correctness of their social behavior. (intentional actors) – „oh, lisa’s face looked a tic less enthusiastic than how i remember it last time. Did I do a bad job?“

#enneagram #typology

4 notes · View notes

norisbeinghuman · 4 months

Text

What can you do for nature?

As a civilisation, we seem to be painfully aware of all the shortcomings in our contact with nature. Stories about all we have destroyed, and where we have failed, permeate our culture. Truth is, we don’t even believe anymore that we could do any good. Most of us feel like the best thing we could do for nature, is to leave it alone. But that kind of thinking is wrong. And dangerous.

How can we do good, if we can’t even imagine it?

If I asked you how humans are affecting the nature, I suspect you would tell me about all the bad things we are doing. About the pollution, the deforestation, about the insecticides and herbicides, about microplastics, and mining, and species loss. And you would, of course, be right.

But is that all of it? Is destruction all we are capable of?

Most of us actually do think so. Growing up in our culture, we absorb the image of pristine nature and of the horrible effect we, the humanity, have on it. We talk about nature and wilderness as something pure and good – and completely separate from us. We think the best we can do is to leave it alone.

If we can’t even imagine that our interactions with the rest of the natural world could be beneficial for it, how can we hope to actually do anything positive?

How are we supposed to find a way to live on this planet in peace and harmony with the rest of the life on it, if we assume from the get-go that we are only capable of doing harm? How are we supposed to be looking for solutions, if we don’t actually believe there are any?

I was thinking about all this as I was reading George Monbiot’s book Regenesis. While he had some good points, I found myself strongly disagreeing with his conclusions and solutions. I might write about it more some day, but not today.

I think George Monbiot got it wrong from the premise. For him, the number one problem of agriculture is land use. And so his solution is to use as little land as possible. Everything he suggests is considered from this point of view, arriving at dubious solutions such as using factory-grown bacteria as the chief source of fat and protein for people around the world.

It is clear that George Monbiot can’t imagine that humans could actually be useful to the rest of the natural world. And he definitely can’t see us as a part of it. He takes it even further, and as many of his fellow vegans, he even sees domestic animals as inherently damaging to nature and something that should be removed. It’s as if cows and sheep and other domestic animals have lost their status as part of nature in his eyes. It’s as if they were tainted by their contact with us.

Humans are nature too

We have been thinking of ourselves as separate from nature for a while now. The concept of nature came to be after the Middle Ages, during the period of Enlightenment. It is even more recent to think of ourselves as only being capable of natural destruction. But thankfully, our culture does not represent all the people in existence and definitely not all the people in history. We might have forgotten about it, but the truth is that humans can live in peace with nature. And not only that, we can even help it prosper.

One of the main ideas in the (absolutely wonderful) Ishmael trilogy by Daniel Quinn is the fact that humanity is much, much older than our civilisation. While it’s a fact fairly obvious to most of us, it has some implications that we don’t usually realise.

Our genus, Homo, is almost 3 million years old. Homo sapiens – modern humans, that were anatomically and physiologically identical to us – appeared some 300 000 years ago. Compared to either of these numbers, our agriculturalist, city-building, less than 10 000 years old civilisation, is like a blink of an eye. Humans have been here for a long time, living just like all other creatures do – as part of the ecosystem.

We tend to think about our prehistoric ancestors as not-quite-human; as if they were somehow unfinished. We assume they didn’t have our curiosity, our intellect and our drive, because in our eyes they were not yet living the way humans are supposed to. Yet, they were just like us, and yet they managed to live in peace with the world around them.

They knew they belonged to the world, just as much as rhinos and mites and sequoias do; and they knew that just like any of those other creatures, they had their role to play in it.

How can we know what they might have been thinking? Well, fortunately, there are still people living in this world now, whose lifestyle is closer to that of our hunter-gatherer ancestors than to our “civilised” ways. We still have a chance to learn from them. If we are ready.

Myth of the wilderness

The truth is that Indigenous peoples have been modifying and managing the nature around them for millennia. Many of the areas that we would classify as wilderness were shaped by human activity, including places such as the Amazon rain-forest, or the Australian aridlands. While this is still far from the mainstream perception, scientist are actually starting to point to how the whole concept of “wilderness” is inappropriate and how certain biomes rely on human input for their preservation (great article on this is Indigenous knowledge and the shackles of wilderness).

Picking sweetgrass

In her beautiful, gentle book Braiding Sweetgrass, Robin Wall Kimmerer – a Native American botanist – reveals a lot about how her culture approached the natural world. She talks about the sense of belonging and feelings of community with all the life around them. She talks about the Honorable Harvest, which is a set of rules to make sure that people don’t take more than their fair share, and that enough is left to keep the cycles of nature going. (Rules like: Never take more than a half. Never take the first, nor the last. Take only what you need. Always give back in return.)

From her stories it becomes clear that the bounty of the land that the European colonisers encountered when they first arrived to the Americas was not an accident. It was not wilderness. It was the result of many millennia of careful cultivation at the hands of the Indigenous peoples.

One of the moving examples she gives, is that of sweetgrass. This plant was, and still is, used for ceremonial purposes among her people and is very important to them. Unfortunately, the sweetgrass populations are steadily declining. Various tribes have different ways of harvesting sweetgrass, and everyone, understandably, thinks their way is the better one. Robin Wall Kimmerer enlisted one of her botany master students to do a thesis about the sweetgrass harvest, trying to determine which harvesting technique was better for the plants – either pulling it out with its roots, or cutting it off, leaving the root in the soil.

She had trouble convincing the faculty to approve the study. They thought it rather useless, saying the result was known from the beginning, as it was obvious that harvesting would lead to decline regardless of the method. But nobody expected what actually happened.

The student spent two years harvesting from three different sweetgrass patches (following the rules of the Honorable Harvest) and documenting the results. She would pinch some of the grass from one of them, pull it out from the other, and the third one was left as a control. At the end of the study period, only one of those patches was not doing well, its population declining. It was the control patch.

As it turns out, sweetgrass needs to be picked. If it isn’t, if space isn’t made for new plants, they get smothered under the tall growth. The decline of sweetgrass goes hand in hand with the disappearance of the peoples who value and harvest it. And the patches that still thrive are, not surprisingly, located in the areas where the people still live and interact with them.

The ciiiircle of liiife

We often feel like it’s somehow morally wrong to be eating other living beings. We are sceptical to the beneficial effects that predators have on their ecosystems, and completely blind to the benefits they provide to their prey (not on the individual, but on the community level).

Lions picking out a sick zebra can save the herd from a disease spreading. Chasing the zebras around ensures they don’t spend too much time in one place, which protects the land from overgrazing, and the zebras from getting parasitic infections from infected manure of their buddies.

Big herds of grazing animals are what prevents grasslands from turning into deserts or forests. The shrubs and trees get eaten before they get a chance to grow big, and the grass gets thinned to make space for new growth, fuelled by the fertiliser left behind by the animals. Some ruminants, like the buffalo, even have an enzyme in their saliva that stimulates grass growth.

While there is nothing wrong with forests, grasslands are a different ecosystem, supporting an equally diverse network of plants and animals that can not thrive in a forest. Despite people who call for “rewilding”, and believe that the only valid landscape is a forest, grasslands have always been here. There is now even evidence that about half of Europe was covered by grasslands and meadows before the arrival of modern humans. But just like in the case of sweetgrass, the European grasslands now rely on us to help them thrive.

In the end, everyone eats and is eaten. Microbes, fungi and plants feed on death just as much as herbivores and carnivores do. Being lower on the food chain does not make one more virtuous. And being higher up on it does not prevent one from contributing to the community of life. Every ecosystem is a network where everything is attached to everything and each creature is needed, however cute or yucky or weird.

You find what you are ready to look for

I have been reading (and thinking) a lot about agriculture lately. It is our closest and most important point of contact with the cycles of life and of nature. It definitely seems like we got a lot of it wrong, and we need to make some changes.

I think it is important that we look for solutions with the right mindset. It is difficult to notice things that you aren’t looking for, let alone ones you can’t even fathom. I think it’s time we started looking at ourselves as creatures that do belong in this world, and that can work with it, care for it, and protect it, while receiving what we need to live. We have to believe it is possible first, before we can even start finding out how to do it. Thankfully, we humans are fast learners, and we still have someone to learn from. And while there is no going back to the Stone Age (not that I want to), we can surely find a way to practice some Honorable Harvest in our world.

The change, if it happens, will come from the bottom. From people with a new vision. From people like you and me.

Originally published on https://noriparelius.com/post/what-can-you-do-for-nature/

#being human #nature #indigenous knowledge #agriculture #sustainability #farming #rewilding

0 notes

mtdthoughts · 5 months

Text

Heaven & Hell Pt. 4 (Migi & Dali Analysis)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

*Note: This is the final part.

Previously, I brought up the references of Heaven and Hell in the story, then illustrated the connections to the twins via duality of the Sonoyama and Ichijo houses, and then provided a retelling of the story using Heaven and Hell as a way of representing the twins' different paths.

Now, we can finally discuss the greater message and why the concepts of Heaven and Hell are used.

Through this beautiful tale, it becomes clear that Migi & Dali is not just about love, family, or even a murder mystery, but it is also an allegory of redemption and overcoming one's sins. Dali has committed many sins (e.g. hurting and lying to Migi, trying to kill Eiji, etc.) because of his anger and obsession for revenge. Yet, despite this, Dali was still able to find redemption and accept happiness because of his forgiveness towards Eiji as well as the love that he had for Migi and the Sonoyamas, and so was saved from despair. He truly has gone through a hero's journey, and his example can be instructive for our daily lives.

Indeed, Dali stands out compared to Migi because of this. Sure, one could try to live like Migi with (almost) no worry in the world, but that's not realistic and is not who we as humans are. This may seem a bit fatalistic, but we as humans (generally) possess an intelligence far greater than our fellow animals, which unfortunately can cause us to hurt others and bear grudges toward others (akin to a curse of intelligence). Now that I think about it, this could be a possible reason why Migi sometimes acts like an animal, but that's besides the point. We as humans can get trapped into obsessions and dark tendencies just as Dali did, and we often need love towards and from those around us in order to break out of these cycles and overcome ourselves.

This brings me to a point about identical twins, and is a callback to my earlier analysis titled "Yin and Yang". Namely, we can think of these identical-looking yet polar-opposite twins as two halves of ourselves, and is probably one reason why I am so fascinated with this anime. There's the "Dali half" that can hurt others and can be burdened by guilt and other negative emotions, and then there's the "Migi half" that moves forward and outwardly shows love; it is crucial to be able to maintain balance between our two halves. If we hurt others in our way to satisfy ourselves, we not only must recognize the harm we've caused, but we must also have the strength to seek forgiveness and atone in the way we live. Similarly, if we are hurt by others, we must seek to understand their actions and find the strength to forgive them. This suggests that a blissful ignorance that Migi tends to chase is not sufficient, but rather it is enlightenment that should be pursued. I think back to that one line in the OP lyrics that roughly means "A nightmare that can't be erased with just black and white alone", which definitely suggests to me that we need both the "Dali half" and the "Migi half" in order to wipe away any nightmare that hinders enlightenment.

Speaking of enlightenment, we can finally discuss the specific use of Heaven and Hell. As mentioned in an earlier part of the discussion, it is likely that Sano references the Christian concepts of Heaven and Hell, where Heaven is a state of eternal enlightenment with God by living according to His teachings, and Hell is state of eternal suffering due to being unrepentant for ones transgressions. A central belief among Christians is that humans all deserve Hell due to their sinful nature (which is similar to what was stated earlier in this post), but due to the birth and sacrifice of Jesus, all sins have been paid for, allowing one to ascend to Heaven (and attain enlightenment) by accepting Jesus' gift of forgiveness by atoning through living and showing the same love and mercy towards those around them. It is possible that Sano intended to make a similar message, and the story does seem to make references towards this redemption:

By forgiving Eiji, Dali has freed himself from his anger and grudge that had caused him so much suffering and unhappiness.

At Christmas dinner, Youko was singing "Joy to the World," which is a song about Jesus' birth and the redemption of humanity.

Even though presents are supposedly only for "good boys," Dali still received one just like Migi, and it could symbolize the gift of forgiveness that Jesus gives everyone.

The choice of happiness and forgiveness was offered to Dali when the Sonoyamas accepted the twins. Dali ultimately chose to reject the shadows (Hell) and accept the gift he was given by accepting the Sonoyamas' love (Heaven).

The Christian Bible also makes references to the duality of wisdom (Dali) and innocence (Migi) as discussed earlier. For example, Matthew 10:16, instructs followers to be shrewd as snakes and innocent as doves, and Romans 16:19 instructs followers to be wise about what is good and innocent about what is evil. These ideas are very much alike the idea that we as humans must find balance between our dual natures.

Regardless of whether the viewer/reader is Christian or believes in Jesus, this idea of attaining enlightenment through living a life centered around love and forgiveness can be universalized,. Thus, by constructing a (potential) biblical allegory using concepts such as Heaven and Hell from a well-studied religion and philosophy, Sano was able to illustrate a greater message about enlightenment and redemption through her beautiful tale.

Thus concludes this discussion on Heaven and Hell.

Bonus: Catholicism introduces a third realm called Purgatory where souls of repentant sinners wait to be purified before going to Heaven. It is interesting because there are three triplets, so we could potentially introduce an association with Eiji and Purgatory (maybe because of the burning house?). But I haven't given this much thought, so for now this topic will just have to be relegated to this bonus section of the discussion.

#migi and dali #migi to dali #analysis

1 note · View note

kiingocreative · 3 years

Text

The Structure of Story is now available! Check it out on Amazon, via the link in our bio, or at https://kiingo.co/book

I sure love a good villain. I love writing them, I love reading about them, I love watching them on screen, and I love unravelling them.

When writing No Pain, No GameI thoroughly enjoyed developing the character of Sean Cravanaugh, the evil mastermind at the centre of the plot. The whole process was extremely cathartic. So much so, in fact, that when the book came out and readers hated Sean for being so horrible and manipulative, I was almost taken by surprise.

This did get me thinking: was my love of strong villains uncommon? Did my ability to write a convincing villain make me a villain at heart? How did other writers feel about their own baddies, and how did they go about writing them?

I had to find out.

The Nuanced Villainy Trend

One trend that’s become more prominent in recent years, be it in literature or popular culture in general, is a shift on how we look at and portray villains. Nowadays, characters from the dark side are more nuanced, more complex and more intriguing than they used to be. We don’t just see what they do, but why they do it and the reasons that drive their behaviour take us on a rollercoaster ride. We’re no longer looking at the bad guys at a singular point in time, where they’re already at the apex of their villainy. We’re given a full 360 degrees view of what’s got them to that point — we see the world and their experiences from their point of view, and they earn some sympathy points along the way.

And that’s the thing. We hate what they do, and we can’t condone their actions, but we tend to hate them, as people, a little less. We wonder what we ourselves might have done when faced with the same circumstances. Through that new lens, they become almost endearing.

This blurs the lines, to a large extent, and the world seems to love it. Gone are the days of black and white as we’re increasingly exposed to the other side of the more traditional hero-focused stories. This is a good thing, according to author Sabrina Voerman, who states that ‘we need more stories told by villains because [she] believes we are all a little grey. No one is all good and no one is all evil.’

Where Villains are Born (or: are you a closeted villain if you can write a good villain?)

This all begs the question: why do we love this new trend so much?

My guess? Because it speaks to the darker, imperfect, highly flawed part of us we try so hard to conceal in our civilised day-to-day lives. When author Freya McMillanworks on villains for her own books, she admits she ‘thinks about the darkness in [herself] and ramps it up a lot, so it’s still believable’. And we love it because we can relate.

So, do you have to be a villain yourself to write a good villain? Not necessarily (and rather thankfully, I might add). I believe it’s more a reflection that we, collectively, are starting to embrace every facet of what it means to be human. We’re letting go of the typical and rather unattainable hero-in-shining-armour ideal in favour of the myriad impulses, idiosyncrasies and desires that make us who we are as a species.

Creating a convincing villain these days is no longer about handpicking a singular cause to justify someone falling off the rails of socially accepted behaviour — abuse, loss and trauma being recurring favourites on that front. Instead, it’s all about exploring the complexity of human nature, psychology and the full colour palette of human emotions.

For Sabrina Voerman, it’s a delicate balance, because ‘villains have to have reason, and that does not always mean some traumatic event pushed them into being bad. [She] likes a villain that has good intentions, but will do anything to get there’. In fact, she highlights that ‘understanding the villain is key, and giving them a few redeeming qualities humanises them, allowing readers (or at least [herself]) to see themselves in the villain.’

Are Modern Villains Just Normal People Doing Bad Things?

So, where does this land us, I hear you ask?

Are we all villains at heart?

Are good, modern-day villains just normal people doing bad things?

Yes and no. We’re at least leaning into the idea that those once crystal-clear distinctions now have blurrier edges than before.

Modern day villains often stand somewhere in the middle between right and wrong. They’re divisive characters which we can’t help but ‘sort of like’ and ‘sort of loathe’. And we’re undecided because we’ve come to realise that, in the world we live in, where things get amplified, blown out of proportions and re-tweeted till they get viral, it’s increasingly easy for anyone to be publicly perceived and pointed to as a ‘villain’. Heroes can become villains, and vice versa. It could happen to anyone. At any time. Almost overnight.

In her writing, Freya McMillan looks at it rather simply: ‘[she] doesn’t necessarily describe them to [herself] as ‘villains’. In [her] mind [she] writes about people who are victim of circumstance, or are affected by traits that are beyond their control.’

Author Tara Lake’s view is similar. Her approach is ‘comparable to any character: [she] considers their limitations, their desires and motivations, and how far they’re willing to go for those desires’.

What does that mean for writers?

The key takeaway for us writers is that we need to keep moving away from the traditional and now antiquated, overly simplified view of good versus evil. Gone are the days of irreproachable angels fighting stone-hearted demons, dark beings who were born bad and only ever did horrible things for all the wrong reasons.

Quite the opposite, in fact. They have layers. Forget black and white, or even shades of grey. Like kaleidoscopes, they’re made of a thousand shapes and brushstrokes from all the colours in the rainbow. They’re intricate and intriguing, and because this all makes them more humanised than they used to be, they can easily be hailed as the underdogs we want to back.

As writer, I find this trend fascinating. The prospect of getting to paint a whole different picture when it comes to villains is incredibly exciting. It opens up a world of possibilities that forces us to think beyond stereotypes, to gain (and portray!) fresh perspectives and to experiment with our characters in different ways. Something, I’m sure, readers everywhere will also appreciate!

#writingtips #creative writing #screenwriting #writers on tumblr #writers #writing #writerblr #writing advice #writing community #writing resources

86 notes · View notes

psyched-for-you · 2 years

Note

I’m sorry it’s a long post.. I hope it’s ok and that you can help, even if you can’t help with all my questions.

I have recently gotten a diagnosis (avoidant personality disorder) and I find it difficult to figure out how I should feel about it. Because I’m torn.

On one hand I feel validated, but also not convinced and feel like I don’t deserve it (my trauma is too minimal, I shouldn’t even have been traumatized by it). And also I get afraid that how I view myself is twisted compared to how others view me, since apparently it’s obvious that I have a personality disorder. Like is that how other people view me? Is it so obvious that I’m mentally ill? (I’m sorry, I don’t mean to put other people down. It’s just that I’m afraid that how others see me is less than how I try to appear). I thought I was at least somewhat good at putting up a mature and competent facade.

On the other hand I feel even more doomed. What if I’ll never be better? I had confidence that I can work on myself and get better, but now I’m questioning everything I thought I knew about myself. And feeling doomed because what will people think of me now? I’m an honest person, and I want to be able to tell the people closest to me about what’s going on with me, but now I’m afraid that their view on me will change or that they’ll be scared off because they think I’m crazy and broken. I wish so much to be able to fall in love and be in a relationship but no one wants to be in a relationship with a mentally ill person! That’s what most people consider a red flag. (I know I don’t have to tell people right away, but what’s better: ripping off the bandage and then not having invested a lot of feelings when they run away, or waiting and becoming emotionally attached to a person who then leaves?)

Furthermore I feel bad about not being relieved, like everyone else who get a diagnosis seems to be. And because I guess I must have some sort of internalized stigma since I am so hard on myself for having a diagnosis but not on others, and I feel like a shitty person because that means I must be secretly judging other diagnosed people even though I don’t want it to be like that.

I really hope that my view of this diagnosis is what is wrong and not the reality…

I feel like by getting a diagnosis like this, I’m being put into a different human category, almost like a different species. Removed from other people. Since my personality by definition is “messed up”. Like I’m being made a stranger to “normal” people. Someone to be careful with like a child or animal you don’t know how will react, someone to not mix with.

But I don’t want that to be true! Is it?

I thought maybe it would be nicer to view it like this (and hopeful be the truth?): We are all people with differences, and wounds, and different life experiences. So we naturally all have different personalities and reactions and views on life. If we suspected everyone, we would all have our own unique diagnoses. But that would defeat the purpose. But the reason why a diagnosis like avoidant personality disorder exists, is because (even though all the people with this diagnosis on a closer inspection are different and unique people as well) we have a number of problems/characteristics/reactions in common. Characteristics that are more like “symptoms “ to our earlier experiences, trauma, anxiety and so on and the way we are reacting is just similar compared to how other people might react because their personality is slightly different. So although those reactions become part of our personality, it does not mean that our personality is wrong or broken. Using the word personality is more descriptive of how people view is from the outside, and not how it actually feels like on the inside. Because I’m the inside it’s more like maybe defense mechanisms and reactions we have taken on us to protect ourselves from the issues our earlier experiences like trauma that has made us view ourselves or the world differently in a way that makes it very hard to navigate. Could that be a more accurate view on personality disorders?

Hi anon!

I think your way of conceptualizing your disorder makes sense to me! It's all about what works for you.

Bc honestly psychiatry is not an exact science with diagnoses that reflect underlying causes and the course of illness. So whatever works for you is ok!

In my opinion personality disorders are poorly named. They are not disorders of "personality" as much as they reflect certain behaviors and patterns especially in how you relate to other people. Two people with the same personality disorder can be two completely different personalities!

So if I had to point at what's "disordered", it's your relationship to yourself and others.

Now as for the internalized stigma you're carrying around: It doesn't make you bad, but these are important beliefs to question and work against. Having a mental illness is not a red flag - in fact, in my experience, if a potential partner considers your mental illness a red flag, that is a red flag on them.

Why? Because mental illness doesn't speak of your character. It may mean that you need more support, though. And if a potential partner isn't at a point in life where they're willing to be a source of support, you're probably better off without the disappointment.

I understand the feeling of being categorized and how it can feel painful, but being mentally ill doesn't make you a "different species". I know you said this only applies to you and not other mentally ill people. But I still think it would help you to make an effort to hang out with, and have relations, with other mentally ill people. Bc I feel like this mindset can be challenged by the profound realization that we're all just people, which can only really be reached by interacting with a bunch of different people.

Lastly, and this is an important point to me: Having been diagnosed doesn't mean that you can never get better. Frankly speaking, psychs have no idea who can and can't get better. The idea of chronic vs. non-chronic mental disorders is pretty flawed, but that's probably a whole post of its own. The main point being that a psych diagnosis is a snapshot of your current symptoms as seen through the lense of the personal and professional biases of the one who's diagnosing you.

It's a snapshot of how you're doing rn, and that can and is most likely to change. Whether that means you'll no longer have avoidant personality disorder in the future is hard to say.

But everyone evolves over time, and everyone's behaviors and relationship to themselves and others, change. You are not the exception. You too can and will find ways to accept, to cope, to move on, to grow.

I hope this helps a little!

Best,

Quinn

#psyched to chat #chat with quinn #internalized ableism tw

7 notes · View notes

folkloreguk · 3 years

Text

❥ My Sweet Evil Heart (C.Chanhee)

A/N: I wrote this as part of an angel/demon collab for The Boyz! You can find the masterlist HERE. This was really fun to write and I got to live out my alternate universe dream in which I'm a detective...I hope you like it, I'm always welcome to any form of feedback!

genre: demon!Chanhee, detective!reader, angst, fluff, reader is constantly sleep deprived, Chanhee is the sweetest demon ever

synopsis: You, a highly respected detective in your department, are investigating a case of a very strange demon who seems hesitant to do evil...but can you trust someone who is supposed to be the personification of wickedness?

words: ~ 10.6k

Have you ever met someone deeply unhappy? Someone who seems to, at all times, be fighting a war inside of themselves? Have you ever felt empathy for somebody, even though they tested you, over and over, as if the worst part inside of them was trying to make them lose you on purpose? Did you hold on and never stop believing in them? Or did you say something to drive them away, making them think they would only hurt you in the process of you trying to make them see clearer?

This is the story of a demon, whose every cell demurred at his evil nature. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves and start with the basics.

Being one of the head detectives at the local police station was not an easy-going, nor an amusing job. Whilst working on serious cases, lacking proper sleep was not an uncommon occurrence for you, and in some instances, self-care came up short until the mystery had been solved and the guilty ones were locked away. Every case pulled you in and swallowed you whole, keeping you deeply invested for days and nights until your brain felt like it had turned to mush and your body worked on autopilot, until you functioned a little like a highly intelligent zombie. And yet, you couldn’t imagine yourself doing anything else in your life. The thrill was close to an obsession, and seeing justice being served thanks to your work was more addicting than any drug could ever be to you.

Most crimes in your world were committed by demons, of course. They were your worst enemies, the monsters you saw in your nightmares and the reason you never strolled down a street without a gun by your hip. It wasn’t forbidden for them to walk the earth, so long as they kept to themselves. Their evil nature made it almost impossible for them to uphold these terms, though. You wished you could lock them all away in some putrid prison cell, or better yet, send them back to where they crawled out from originally. But the law couldn’t convict beings before they had done anything wrong. So, it was on you to make sure you kept an eye on the sinister beings, figure out what they were up to and stop them before they could actually hurt somebody. Like that morning, when you were called to a liquor store to investigate a break-in.

“My name is Y/F/N Y/L/N, I am the lead investigator,” you greeted the store owner with a handshake upon arrival. “Can you tell me exactly what happened?”

“I came here this morning at around 7 to open up the store. When I got out of my car, I saw the broken glass of the window,” he explained.

“What was taken from inside the store?” you inquired further.

“That’s the weird thing. Nothing is missing from inside,” he said.

“We might just be dealing with vandalism,” you thought out loud. “Do you have security cameras?”

He did, and so you went along with him to the back of the store. It was true, the interior of the shop seemed completely untouched. You suspected whoever had done this had never even intentioned on entering. There was a college campus not too far from the store, and you recalled countless times you had witnessed careless vandalism done by some intoxicated students during a Friday night. It was a very human-like crime. Demons weren’t known to do things by halves. Their crimes were usually the go-big-or-go-home-type of crimes. But then, when you watched the security footage, you were stunned.

At precisely 3:29 am, a dark figure appeared in front of the window. They lifted their arms, swinging a baseball bat against the glass. And against your speculation, they did climb through the hole in the window. With no mask or disguise whatsoever, the demon man looked right into the camera in the corner of the room. The abyss of darkness in his pitch black eyes was unmistakable. He looked around, as if he was debating on whether he should have done more, but then, to your utter confusion, spun around on his heel and climbed right back out the window.

You assured the store owner you would be looking into this case. With nothing left to do, you headed back to the police station. You had taken the security footage with you, and the moment you arrived in your office, you played it on your computer screen. Over and over - only puzzling you more, with each rerun you saw. You worried this might only be a warning. Not seldom had you been a witness to demons playing with their prey, feeding off the fear of innocent souls. Was this one indulging in one of those little twisted games? Right away, you uploaded the demon’s face onto the database for criminals, even if vandalism didn’t compare to the serious allegations that stood against other faces on that list. While you turned your attention to other cases, his features wouldn’t leave your mind. Even when you left your office at night, he was still the most prominent person in your memory.

By the time you began your walk to your home, the sun had disappeared. You couldn’t help it, even if technically you could finish work earlier, your desire to solve your assigned cases was always higher. Had you just walked home at 5 pm, you were sure to end up on your computer at home, researching and digging around on the web to discover possible clues. This way, at least you had all resources you would need at your office at the police station.

Now, in the dark, the streets were rather abandoned, most shops had already closed, and the moon dimly cast light through the clouds. Those conditions were what made it a breeze for you to notice your shadow. The figure had been following you for 5 minutes now. Judging by how carelessly loud their steps sounded and by their not-so subtle choices of hiding spots, you could tell this wasn’t something they had practice in. Purposely, you didn’t turn around, so they wouldn’t realize you had caught on to them a while ago. Instead, only a minute or so from your home, you took a turn left into an abandoned alleyway. Your hand was on the gun in your belt.

Just as you had stepped into the alley, you turned. He was right behind you. With dark orbs glaring and teeth snarling he came at you, knife in hand. Your eyes widened – you recalled his face vividly – as you took in the situation in the blink of an eye. After all, you had watched the security tape of him breaking into the liquor store countless times only hours ago. But you had the upper hand from the very moment you had spun around. His build wasn’t particularly strong, but you knew you should never underestimate demons. You grabbed his shoulders and along with him, your body crashed against the red brick wall to your left. He struggled against your grip, but his determined and feisty expression was the by far the most intimidating part about him. His face was inches from yours but looking into the sort of darkness that were demon’s eyes did nothing to you. Your hand was around his wrist with the knife – which he was aggressively trying to bring down on you – but only at first.

Because suddenly, something uncommon occurred. So uncommon, in fact, that not a single cell in your body could believe it. He willingly dropped the blade. It hit the asphalt, the metallic sound echoing in your ears. He relaxed his arm in your iron grip. Demons never gave up. They fought until you had forcefully brought them to the ground or done worse to them. Their ironic god-complex and evilness didn’t allow them to step away from a fight – until this one had come along, apparently. And then, as if his behavior hadn’t already stunned you enough, he did the unthinkable.

“I’m sorry,” he said. Without a doubt you thought you had misheard him. Swiftly, you pulled your gun out of your belt and pointed it at his face. One thing you knew. You weren’t going to play along in his little games. In panic, he rose his hands, showing defeat.

“Quit playing games, devil’s son,” you hissed. “What is it you’re trying to achieve here? You’re sorry? For what?”

He was hesitant. With every second, your curiosity only grew. Either, he was a skilled actor or…you had no idea what else it could’ve been about him.

“I almost killed you. That’s what I’m sorry for,” he said. “Does that get me a prison sentence?”

Your eye twitched because this didn’t seem right at all.

“You broke into a shop and attacked me, but then stopped out of your free will,” you assessed the situation. “You’ll most likely get away with a fine and your name in our register.”

If you had been awaiting an evil grin or any sort of enjoyment in his face, you’d be waiting endlessly. If anything, he seemed to be…disappointed?

“But you’re a cop, right?” he said. “You can lock me up, can’t you?”

“Didn’t you hear what I said? You won’t be locked up if you don’t commit a crime severe enough. As much as I hate it, considering you demons are running free, it’s the law,” you said.

“You don’t get it,” he said. And he was right, you really had no idea. “I should be locked up. You need to get me to jail before I hurt somebody.”

His face was dead serious, but you didn’t want to believe a single word. How could you, when your daily life consisted of hunting down his kind, because all they brought upon the earth was chaos and death?

“Give me one good reason why I should believe you,” you said, unimpressed.

“I will tell you anything you want to hear,” he said. “If you bring me to a police station. You guys have these lie detectors, don’t you? I will take a test if that’s what it takes for you to believe me.”

So, that was how half an hour later you still hadn’t returned at home, but rather found yourself back at the police station. Almost everyone had gone home by now, so you took the liberty to choose the biggest interrogation room available. A few minutes and he was sitting in front of you, hands in handcuffs and his body connected to the lie detector.

“Okay, here’s how this works. I’ll start by asking some simple questions, and then we’ll get to the bottom of whatever your intentions are,” you explained.

“Alright. Go ahead,” he said. This was your first time seeing a demon take this sort of test. Usually, you couldn’t be bothered because you knew all they did was lie whilst smiling you in the face.

“What’s your name?”

“Choi Chanhee.”

“Where were you born?”

“In hell.”

“Did you break into a liquor store last night?”

“Yes.”

“Did you intend on killing me tonight?”

“…Yes.”

“Is that your definite answer?”

“…No.”

“How come both of your last two answers are lies?” you asked. “You didn’t intend on killing me, but yes is your definite answer?”

“I can’t stop the evil in me but I’m trying,” he said. You were stunned. The answer was the most truthful of them all.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“I was never like the others since I came to earth. I’ve never felt a rush like they do, causing mischief and hurting humans. I don’t belong. It’s as if there was a demon inside of me, but it’s not controlling all of me, do you understand?” he said.

“I’m not sure, but go on,” you said.

“I don’t want to hurt anybody or destroy things. But on some days, I’m walking down the street and my body starts following the devil’s orders instead. I usually snap out of it quickly and stop myself. That’s why you’re still alive,” he explained.

“You’re telling me you’re some sort of good demon?” you asked. “Why don’t you go back to hell, if you’re struggling so much on earth?”

“I hate it there,” he said. “And either way, I’m banned from there forever.”

Your head raised as you stared at him.

“Banned?” you asked.

“I stopped a bunch of demons from killing a woman once,” he said. “Safe to say they weren’t happy to hear that, back at home. I couldn’t go back, even if I wanted to.”

“Can you tell me the name of the woman?” you asked. And he did. All this time, he really had been telling the truth. When you searched up the woman’s name in the computer, it only confirmed your suspicion. She really had been under attack when an unidentified person had interrupted and saved her life.

“I can tell you names of demons,” he said. “If you do me the favor of locking me up, I can sell out everyone I know about.”

You massaged the sides of your head and sighed. This guy really was one of a kind.

“I already told you, I can’t put you in jail for something you didn’t do,” you said. “That’s against the law, and then it’ll be me who ends up behind bars instead of you. I’ll have to let you go.”

“What if I mess up?” he said. The amounts of firsts you were experiencing in the timespan of an hour were giving you a headache. Never had you felt compassion for a demon before. But you were only human, and when you noticed the genuine concern and insecurity in his soft voice, you couldn’t stop yourself.

“How long have you been on earth for?” you asked.

“I don’t know, a few years, I guess?” he said.

“And in those few years, which of your deeds would you rate the most criminal out of all?” you asked. Any other demon would have been able to give you multiple answers, one more vicious than the other. He, on the other hand, took his time and even when he answered, he didn’t sound at all sure.

“I’ve broken into a house before, destroyed a car window and one time I stole a dog,” he confessed with his head tilted towards the floor.

“What happened to the dog?”

“I…gave it back,” he said. A laughter erupted from your throat against your will. In a friendly manner, you pat his shoulder before retrieving the keys to his handcuffs.

“Trust me, you’ll be just fine out there,” you said. “Whatever it is you’re doing to stop yourself from being evil, it’s working. I will let you go now."

Even though he wasn’t happy with your answer, he knew he had no choice but to comply. As you walked him through the hallways towards the exit of the station, you could only think of one thing: your beloved bed. Not only your body but especially your brain was drained from energy. You desperately needed a refill by getting a good night’s sleep.

“You’re the first person who’s been really kind to me,” he said, as you held the door open for him. The night air was cool, and you quickly zipped up your jacket to your chin.

“You gave me no reason not to be,” you replied.

“I almost stabbed you,” he said, bluntly.

“Almost.”

“For most people, me being a demon is reason enough to loathe me.”

“Well I guess I’m not most people,” you said. His smile was gentle, but his black eyes would always give him away. “I’ll be here at the station every day, if you have any concerns or need somebody to consult. But right now, all I want is my bed.”

“I understand,” he replied. “Thank you. Goodbye.”

“Good night,” you said, before you parted ways. Once more, you journeyed home. He remained on your mind until the moment you slipped off to dreamland that night.

The days passed without a trace of him. You followed your routine, but one thing you couldn’t help. You simply had to tell every person who worked with you about the changed demon you had met. No one really wanted to believe you. It was kind of understandable. Some thought you were testing their skills, seeing if they could figure out you were lying. Others went as far as to suspect your lack of sleep had given you hallucinations. But you didn’t let it go. And after all, you were a highly respected member of the police force. Some said they wanted to meet this demon gentleman, as they had renamed him.

But then you were called to a brand new homicide investigation and all of the jokes at the station were blown away by the intensity and buzz the case brought with it. You had a murder to solve. There was no place for sweet demon men in any part of your brain. Not for now. And as always, you slipped into old habits – staying up all night, living on coffee and quick meals – the toxic behavior was almost inescapable. Your fellow detectives tried their best to keep you healthy and most importantly, sane. They took you with them to get salad for lunch, invited you over for game nights (a futile attempt at giving you a break) and told you to go to sleep on time. After all, they needed your brain to function at full capacity for the case. You knew people were relying on your knowledge, and you weren’t doubting your capabilities. But a highly intelligent zombie was still a zombie. And so it happened that one Thursday night your boss sent you home. Not because you weren’t doing a good job – rather for of the opposite reason.

“You are allowed back at the station when you’ve caught a full night’s sleep. Do what it takes to take care of yourself,” your boss had said. Her tone displayed as much strictness as her eyes showed concern. Truth be told, you were too exhausted to even argue against her order. That’s when you knew. You really needed a rest. You dragged your body home.

“Hello sweetheart,” you greeted your pet bird, who chirped excitedly when you set foot into your apartment. “Guess what. I’m home early.”

As much as you wanted to drop into a slumber right away, your stomach growled. And you weren’t in the mood to wake up half-starved. As you prepared some left-overs from the fridge, you heard your bird call from the living room. “Peek-a-boo!” he sang. It caught your attention. He only played this game with you – when you were outside in your small garden and he was watching you through the window. So who exactly was he talking to, now?

You picked up a knife, because as a detective it was practically your job to be paranoid, and tiptoed into the living room. It would be harder for an intruder to spot you in the dark, so you pushed the light switch. Slowly, you advanced to the window and gently pulled the curtains aside. A shiver ran down your spine when you saw the figure standing between the trees. They didn’t seem to be hiding, if anything they were lazily resting their back against the garden fence. Maybe they weren’t aware you were watching them. Bold of them to assume they could intimidate you by acting so nonchalant. You cracked the window open slightly.

“If you don’t leave my property within the next ten seconds, I’ll have you arrested for trespassing,” you announced. The figure flinched. The moment he stepped into the moonlight and raised his arms, you remembered his face.

“Choi Chanhee?” You opened the terrasse door and stepped outside.

“Are you going to hurt me?” he asked, eyes glued to the knife in your hands. Quickly, you lowered your hand.

“What are you doing here?” you asked instead of answering his question.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” he admitted.

“And so you thought creeping around in a police woman’s backyard was an appropriate thing to do? Wait…have you been stalking me?” you asked. You should have cut back on the sharp tone, but you felt half-asleep and this was the last thing you needed. Plus, the immanent realization hit you, that you had not noticed him at all. You had been so caught up in your work that you had not recognized a demon lingering around your home address, watching you. It hurt your pride a little – and could have ended very differently, had it been a more malovent demon than the one standing in front of you. This one looked terrified, kneading his hands nervously.

“I thought you wouldn’t be upset with me…that maybe you would understand. Because you’ve been the only one who’s listened to me. I’m just trying to find a purpose,” he said, “And my head tells me you’re the right direction.”

Demons. They’ve always had a fondness for the dramatic. But his words tore at your heart strings. His behavior resembled a child who had done wrong and was in the process of being scolded.

“Do you have no home?” you asked, softening your voice.

“I’ve lived with other demons. But they don’t want me there, anymore,” he said. For obvious reasons, you thought. Your head was racing. There was no way you could leave him standing there in the cold. But letting a demon into your home sounded like you must have had a death wish. It’s not like you didn’t have enough space, though. With an extra guest bedroom that nobody had ever used before, he would be just fine. There was no excuse. You cursed your parents for making you get a bigger apartment “In case you got married and had children soon.” You never know what could happen, they had said. And how wrong they had been, but how right they had been on that last part.

“Would you say you’re a tidy person?” you asked. A gigantic yawn came over you, and once again your stomach grumbled.

“What? I mean…I think so?” he said.

“Are you hungry?” You were in disbelief. Maybe it was the zombie in you that had a heart so soft, it took pity on a demon.

“I’m starving,” he said.

And that was how you came to have dinner with a demon. Spoiler alert: It wouldn’t be the last time. You ate quietly, trying hard to fight tiredness but it was no use. Afterwards, you showed him the room he could stay in.

“How do I make this up to you?” he asked.

“We’ll think about that another time, alright?” you said, “I need to sleep now. I’ve got an unsolved murder case waiting on me tomorrow.”

That night, you locked your bedroom door and slept with your gun on your nightstand. Just in case. Even though you were almost fully convinced the demon in the bedroom across the hall was more harmless than a five-year-old, he was still a demon.

When you woke up and saw your boss’ message on your phone, you couldn’t believe it. She wanted you to stay at home for the day. Apparently, you needed the rest and she had no interest in getting into trouble for overworking you (which she obviously wasn’t, you were the one doing this to yourself). When you walked down the stairs, you had almost forgotten about the previous night. It felt a little like it had all just been one wild fever dream – that was, until you spotted the demon sitting on your sofa, your pet bird on his shoulder.

“I let him out, I hope that was okay,” he said. You were dumbfounded. “Listen, I just wanted to say…thank you. Tell me whatever you need me to do and I’ll get it done for you.”

You wanted to go to work. But you knew he would be no help making that possible. Your mind was already wandering off to your case, the tips of your fingers burning with anticipation to search the internet for clues. Your grumbling belly interrupted your eagerness.

“Um…you could go to the grocery store for me?” you asked.

You went back to work the next day. Unsure of what to do, you decided to keep your demon housemate a secret for now. The other detectives would have probably written you off as insane, and you needed them to take you seriously. To be fair, maybe you were a little crazy. But he had been really good on the first day. Only one incident, which involved him dropping an egg on the kitchen floor, stood out to you. Of course, that could happen to anyone. But any other person would not have apologized in the way that he did. Normal people wouldn’t have acted so guilty, had it been an accident. But as long as his malice remained to that extent, you could live with it. You almost laughed at the idea of him purposely watching the egg roll off the counter and not doing anything.

He sure was strange. But little did you know, his egg-dropping shananigans were only the beginning of his uncontrollable little pranks he would pull on you.

Once he let your bird fly out the window. When you came home you discovered him outside, talking to your bird, begging him to come back inside. Little did he know, all it took was a whistle and a few treats and you had him sitting on your shoulder, ready to go back inside. One night you returned home to find him staring at the ceiling in the dining room, a kitchen towel in his hand. When you asked him what he was trying to achieve there, he told you there was a mosquito sitting above him.

“So, why don’t you kill it?” you asked. He looked shocked.

“Kill it?” he asked, “We should probably just shoo it outside.”

That’s when you knew. Choi Chanhee wouldn’t hurt a fly. Literally. All those times you had worried about leaving him home alone with your bird vanished in an instant as you laughed.

“You’re right. Killing is one of the worst sins. But sometimes, especially when it comes to mosquitoes, you don’t need to worry about any consequences. If anything, I’ll be grateful,” you assured him.

Another instance made you think maybe you had been too quick to judge him as harmless. When you walked into your bathroom in the morning, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you almost jumped out of your skin. A red substance stuck to your mirror in what seemed to be random shapes. On impulse, you called his name. On second look, you realized what he had done. The red was merely ketchup, and the random shapes weren’t so random, but they spelled “meeting at 2 pm”. When Chanhee appeared in the doorframe, he already wore his sorry expression.

“What did you think you were doing here?” you said. “You know where the post-it notes are!”

“I- He- The demon in me wanted to scare you…I’m so sorry,” he said. It was difficult to be mad at him when he was so sweet. You had, after all, told him to remind you of your meeting you had that day. He was so easy to forgive, too. Whenever he went to buy groceries, he returned with a bouquet of flowers, and after he had figured out your favorite candy, he made sure you never ran out of your supply. You liked being alone, but suddenly it felt nice to have someone waiting for you at home. A warm sensation filled your heart whenever he asked you about your day during dinner.

Even if after dinner you had to argue with him as if he was your son, because the demon in him had decided to take on the form of a teenage boy who was too lazy to take out the trash. You were still seated at the table, rolling your eyes at the demon’s horrible attempt at being evil.

“Don’t make me ask you one more time,” you threatened him, although you didn’t know what you would have done had he continued to argue against you. Only when he reached for the knife that he had already put down tidily on his plate, your eyes widened. His knuckles were white around the metal and you leaned back instinctively. Your gun was still in your belt – you had sat down for dinner straight after returning home – but you didn’t want to use it. Not on him.

“Chanhee,” you spoke in a calm tone. His face was unreadable. He wasn’t making eye contact. Instead, his gaze was glued onto the blade in his hand, staring blankly. His eyes blinked, almost robotically. Something changed in his demeanor then. There was a tremble in the hand that was clutching the knife. It grew more uneasy by each passing moment. Your heart was pounding in your chest and you kept your eyes trained on him, trusting your reflexes.

“Fine,” he suddenly said in a grumpy tone. Then he dropped the knife. The metallic sound rang in your ears for seconds afterward. You let out the breath you didn’t know you had been holding on to, as you watched him get up and retrieve the full trash bag from under the sink. You had been sleeping with your bedroom door unlocked for weeks. Even though it pained you, that night you locked your door again.

At 3:28 am you awoke to the sound of breaking glass. You allowed yourself to yawn and rub the sleep out of your eyes for just a moment, then you were on your feet. Gun in hand, you opened your door. Across the hall, the door to Chanhee’s room stood ajar. Light came from downstairs.

“Chanhee?” you called quietly. No answer. But your ears picked up shuffling and the sound of shards of glass being moved around. You approached slowly, trying not to give yourself away. Then you heard the quiet sobs. Your arm with the gun dropped to your side when you stepped into the kitchen.

He was sitting on the floor like he was one of the shattered pieces of glass himself. When he saw you, he flinched and tried to dry away his tears. But it was no use. They kept coming, and you had already seen them either way.

“I dropped it on purpose,” he said, referring to the broken glass. Another sob went through his body, making your chest ache at the sight of him. “I’m sorry.”

“I have nine more of those. It’s alright,” you assured him. Gently, you sat down by his side. You put your arms around his hunched frame. He stiffened at first but calmed his muscles after a moment and let you hold him.

“Shh, it’s okay,” you said. Whatever it was that was hurting him so much, you’d be here to fight it off for him.

“I can’t stop the evil in me,” he cried. His weeps seeped through your skin and tugged at your organs. It felt like a thousand tiny, sharp needles in your heart.

“It’s a part of you. It’ll never fully go away. But look at you, you’re doing such a good job holding it inside of you,” you whispered. He shuddered.

“I tried to kill you,” he stated. “I don’t deserve you. You’re so kind. You do all this for me, and I tried to kill you.”

“But you didn’t,” you said. “And that’s what counts. We all have urges inside of us…but it’s what we end up doing that truly counts and makes us who we are.”

“But it’s so hard,” he cried. His face was in the crook of your neck as he sniffled. The small teardrops that touched your skin felt like ice. “And all I do is bother you. I’m an inconvenience. Why don’t you just lock me up with the other demons? Why give me another chance every time I mess up?”

You couldn’t believe he would hate himself so much. Chanhee had more compassion than a lot of the humans you knew had. Some days he sat and pet your bird for hours just because it made him happy, he always had money on him to give to the homeless people in front of the grocery store and he almost cried thinking he forgot to pay for an item at the store (which you had obviously paid for).

“How could you even compare yourself to other demons?” you said. “If you want, I will take you in to work with me sometime. Then you’ll see the atrocities others commit. Even among humans, you’d still be sorted into the best of the best. I believe in you and that you will do good.”

He only sobbed harder at what you had said, and you felt the need to pull him in just a little tighter. You softly rocked your bodies in an attempt to calm him down.

“I would fall apart without you.” Between the hiccups and tears his words sounded like a broken confession, but that’s why they hit so hard.

“You’re not alone in this. I’m here for you,” you whispered, lips right by his ear. Your hands were in his hair, stroking his head as if you could pour all your emotions into this one gesture. What else could you do to show him you would never abandon him the way his demon people had? And it seemed to do the trick. His fists that had been clutching your shirt loosened up and his sorrowful crying turned into mellow breathing on your skin.

“Aren’t you sleepy?” you asked. “Let’s get you back to sleep. Tomorrow things will be better.”

“I haven’t been able to sleep well for three days,” he said. “But I need to clean this up first.”

He let go of you and started to pick up shards of glass. There was still a haggard expression on him, and his cheeks were painted red and tear stained. And yet he was determined.

“Let me do this,” you said, touching his arm. “You can’t even keep your eyes open. Go to bed, Chanhee.”

This time, he didn’t argue. But his good behavior didn’t stop the apologetic, almost battered look at you. He knew you would be by his side no matter what – but what he needed most was his own forgiveness. And you could tell by the way he spoke about himself that it would take a while until he was ready to accept himself as he was.

You heard his heavy steps on the stairs as he walked to his room. Quickly, you gathered the biggest shards of glass and then used a hand brush to collect the tiny pieces. This wasn’t what you had signed up for when you had taken him in. You thought you’d have to argue with him daily and that you’d miss having your personal space and privacy. You knew it would be new, living with another person after living alone for so long. But nothing could have prepared you for the way Chanhee had swept you off your feet with his adorable charms. You didn’t need to fake excitement when you came home to him, nor did you ever have to force yourself to tell him about your day or have any conversation with him, for that matter. He was truly enchanting with the way he made you care so much. Especially when you had assumed all demons were your sworn enemies.

When you finally dragged your tired body upstairs, you softly pushed open the door to his room, only to see him lying wide awake.

“Can’t sleep?” you asked. “Even though you’re so exhausted?”

“No,” he spoke. Even his voice made no attempt at hiding the sleepiness. His look was pleading. “Can you please stay with me…just for a little while?”

There was no way you could say no to his lovely gaze and messy hair and outstretched arms. So, you crawled in next to him under the covers. Your faces were inches apart. The last time you had been looking into a demon’s eyes this close-up he had been lying face-up and dead on the side of a road. Those eyes had been lifeless, and yet you felt like they had still held so much ferociousness, even in death. Now you only saw concern and genuine care in the black orbs across from you. You admired his softly sculpted face. It was one that seemed like it would much rather belong to an angel.

“You’ve been working so much,” he whispered. “You must be much more tired than me.”

“I’m used to it,” you said, “I enjoy my work because I’m doing it to help others.”

“You’re a good person,” he stated. There was something in his voice you couldn’t make out. Regret? Admiration?Maybe it was both.

“So are you, Chanhee,” you said. Without second thought, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his cheek. He didn’t flinch nor pull away. Instead, his pretty lips curled into a smile as he closed his eyes, ready to finally drift off to dreamland.

From that night on he seemed to improve a little, day by day. No more breaking things or having to argue about simple house chores. It occurred to you almost as if he had turned into something more human – so much that you dared to take him to work with you. People there had found the idea of your new demon friend strange, and you were sure some would take more than a little convincing to let down their guard around him. You couldn’t blame them for the prejudices – you had once been the same, after all. But Chanhee was okay with it, even when you had explained to him that some people might hate him, just because of his black eyes and what they meant to people. He had lived years of receiving that sort of treatment. Nonetheless, it pained you to think about how used he was to it. It took bravery and thick skin to walk into a police station the way he did that day. He was fascinated, looking behind the scenes. Perhaps you found it amusing how alarmed everyone was when they first laid eyes on him at the station. His ability to turn around their views of his species within twenty seconds or less was nothing but astonishing. He very willingly took it upon himself to walk down to the nearest coffee shop and order ten cups, also earning him the sympathy from the last few sceptics. When you were deep in conversation with another detective, discussing the possible whereabouts of a highly wanted demon, Chanhee suddenly interrupted you.

“I know an underground club where they like to go after…committing crimes,” he said. “Every demon in this city knows about it.”

At that moment you realized his full potential and what good he could really do. That was, if he was ready to sacrifice his people. But he just had – without even blinking. He could be an immense help to you.

“Young man I can see you have a bright future, should you ever decide to join the police force,” said your boss from across the room. Seemed like she had the same idea as you. Chanhee only smiled shyly but couldn’t hide the glint of pride in his eyes.

The following days you instantly made arrangements to get Chanhee an interview with the head of the station. He had been scared, at first.

“What if the other people there hate me?” he suspected.

“They might make assumptions about you in their heads, you know, because you’re a demon. They only know demons to be evil. But the moment they realize how good of a person you are, I promise they’ll change their mind,” you said. “You’ll be precious to us, and if you want to do good, the police is where you can be the most helpful. You’ll change lives, maybe even save people.”

“Yes, I want to help,” he said. “I’m done with my kind.”

“I’ll talk to my boss tomorrow,” you assured him. “If you’re too anxious to come in to the station, maybe she’ll allow you to work from home, from my office here. This is just a try, okay? If you really enjoy this work, you’ll have to learn and earn your badge.”

The way he looked at you filled you with so much pride. He seemed to have found some hope. Like he could finally spend his time in a productive and truly good manner. You couldn’t wait to see how he would do.

A tiring day and many discussions with higher-ups at workplace later, you returned at your home, late at always. Your fingers tingled with excitement and you wanted to yell for Chanhee the moment you walked through your door. You had managed to score an internship for him at your station. He was allowed to start as early as the following week. As you walked up the stairs, following the shuffling noise you heard, you imagined his face when you told him the news. You knew he’d be ecstatic. His smile would make you so happy, and you almost grinned at the mere thought of it. The noises were coming out of your office.

“Hi, Chanhee. Guess what my boss-,” you started. Then you fell speechless. Paper was scattered all over the floor. Drawers stood wide open. The orderly sorted piles of case files you had been working on were dispersed into every corner of the small room. Photos and pieces of paper were falling out of the folders. And in midst of it all stood Chanhee.

“Y/N- I’m so-,” he said, helpless.

“Don’t,” you said. Every ounce of excitement was gone from your voice, replaced by an ice cold tone you didn’t know you had in you. He flinched, but you couldn’t keep in what you had to say. “You’re impossible. I can’t fucking believe this! These are real cases, Chanhee! I’m trying to save real people here! This isn’t some broken mirror or a spilled cup of water. I can look past a shattered glass, but this is too much…I honestly thought you were getting better…”

Somewhere you knew you were being too harsh. But your job was your entire reason for existing. This was your life mission, laid out in front of you as if a hurricane had rampaged through the room. It would take days for you to rearrange the files. You weren’t even sure if you’d be able to find the correct places for each piece of paper.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice cracking because he was about to cry.

“I don’t want to see you right now. Please get out. I need to clean this up and you can’t help me with this,” you said, trying hard not to scream out of frustration. Your eyes were already scanning the floor. You had no idea where to even start. With low-hanging shoulders and teary eyes that were threatening to spill over, Chanhee slipped past you. He granted you one more look before he scurried out of the office like a frightened animal.

Even though your stomach was grumbling from starvation and you could barely stay awake – as always – you needed to get some of the cleaning done. Now. Or you would go insane. Plus, you needed time away from Chanhee. While you collected the paper from every inch of the wooden floor, guilt slowly started to nag at you. You had never raised your voice at him to this extent. And he was sensitive. It wasn’t his fault, that’s what you always told him when he blamed himself for messing things up. He knew that. You cursed at yourself. How could you be so impulsive? All too well you knew how he felt about his demon half. You were supposed to be there for him, to tell him he was doing a good job and to make sure he didn’t beat himself up. Now you had achieved the complete opposite. A dull ache in your chest accompanied your hungry stomach.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang. In a haze, you stepped down the stairs and to the door. You needed to apologize to Chanhee. When you opened the door, a delivery girl from your favorite restaurant stood there, handing you an order. You were puzzled.

“Already payed for,” she checked with a beaming smile, “Enjoy your meal!”

“Thank you,” you said, voice numb. Before you knew it, she had turned on her heel and was on the way back to the car.

“Chanhee! Your food is here,” you shouted, assuming he was the one who had made the order. You got no answer. When you set the bag down on the kitchen table, you saw a note, addressed to you.

Y/N,

Words can’t express how sorry I am about what I’ve done. All my life I only wanted someone to love me. In you, I thought I might have found what I had been searching for all this time. But I messed up. I always do. I drove you away from what we had. I’ve wondered why I always end up disappointing people. Now I know it’s because it’s the only thing I’m truly good at. You deserve someone you can trust blindly, someone who will walk through fire for you, someone who will take a bullet for you. I can’t give you that. I can’t even trust myself. Thank you for giving me a home and for being the most generous person I have ever met. You will always be in my sweet evil heart. Don’t worry about me too much. I will find my way and you will find yours. Who knows, our paths may cross again. I ordered your favorite food. I know you’re always starving when you get home from work. Enjoy it and don’t let it go cold. Make sure you get enough sleep tonight, and don’t forget to take your water bottle with you tomorrow, you left it here this morning.

I’ll hold you in my happiest thoughts forever,

Chanhee

You only snapped out of your motionless state when one single tear dropped down your cheek and onto the note. A heavy blanket of sorrow and regret sunk into your whole body. The emotions seeped through your skin and before you knew it, you were a sobbing mess on the kitchen floor. You wanted to take him in your arms and tell him you forgave him. Hell, you had forgiven him minutes after you had yelled at him. You should have gone to him then. Had you only apologized quickly enough, perhaps he’d still be here. Then he’d be eating dinner with you, and although you’d be frustrated, you both wouldn’t be alone.

Your tears fell into your food while you ate it, unable to control your sadness and frustration you had against yourself. They mixed with the shower water as you stood in silence under the hot stream, overthinking everything. Your pillow was wet from the crying as you struggled to fall asleep. Like a broken-hearted zombie you trudged across the hall and into his room. Chanhee’s covers still smelled like him and you hugged them tightly, as if you could hold a piece of him and bring him back that way. But there was nothing you could have done. He had left, and it was alone your fault.

The next day passed like a vivid fever dream. While you were sat in your meeting, you couldn’t possibly focus on the case your team was discussing. Instead, you pondered whether your makeup was able to conceal your puffy face and the dark circles under your eyes. If it was obvious, at least people didn’t seem to point it out. Maybe they were so used to seeing you tired that it would take a lot more than some tiredness and lack of concentration to arise concern. It was the first time in years you really wanted to go home after work. In fact, you couldn’t stand the laughter and good mood at the police station for one more second. All you wanted to do was scream and cry, and seeing people joke around without any idea about your feelings only intensified your desire. Of course, you could have confided in somebody. But you were afraid they would tell you Serves you right or I told you. You don’t think you’d be able to handle those blatant assumptions and the mocking.

Your plan for the night was set: You’d sit in the bathtub for half an hour, then you’d wrap yourself into a human burrito in a blanket and fill your brain with some brutal movie that would make your life seem like it was mere child’s play. But as most things in your life lately, nothing went as planned. Because after only five minutes in the hot tub, your phone rang on the other side of the room. The first time you ignored it. You really tried. But then it rang again, and you looked up to see the caller ID. It was your boss.

You groaned and quickly stood up, not giving up on the prospects of a peaceful night just yet. But then you heard her message – a break-in at a bank, one dead bank employee, five hostages, a possible shoot out. They were calling for back up. And when there was a chance to throw bad guys behind bars, the most inviting bath or an exciting movie suddenly turned dull.

Not fifteen minutes later you had jumped out the bath, gotten dressed in your uniform, taken your gun and ammunition, and were pulling up at the scene your boss had ordered you to. The bank was in the city center, close to the main square. The police team was stationed in a side street. Some of the team had already been sent to the front of the bank, where the police was attempting to make contact with the robbers.

“They’re holding four hostages in the back of the bank. One of them is at the front, right by the glass doors for us to see. The robbers have guns to their heads. If we come closer, they’ll shoot them,” your colleague informed you.

“Demons?” you asked. Against your will, Chanhee appeared in your mind. You wondered how he was doing. Was he hiding out in somebody else’s garden right now? Had he found a bed to sleep in? Then you quickly shook your head. This was not the time for heavy emotions of any kind.

“Yes. Five of them,” your colleague added. You huffed.

“What do they want us to do? Are they demanding anything?” you asked.

“They want us to let them leave with the money,” she said. You grinned bitterly and nodded.

“What about the back entrance?” you asked. You knew the layout of this bank and had been there multiple times in the past.

“That’s our route. Besides the one at the front, the other demons are inside the bank. The entrance isn’t guarded. A team of four will go to the back and try to sneak up on them. When we have a clear line of fire on all the robbers, we’ll take them out at the same time,” she explained.

“Alright,” you nodded, fixing your bulletproof vest around your upper body. You were ready for this. To others, missions like these would have been nerve-wrecking, and you would have been lying if you said you were completely calm. But the adrenaline was already rushing through your body, and fear was something you hadn’t felt since your very first operation.

“All ready?” your colleague asked the other two members of the team who would go into the bank. You received nods and professional expressions. You had all trained together and were used to functioning like one unit. Sticking close together, you rounded the bank, using a side street so the demons wouldn’t see you approaching. In your ear, the voice of your boss was giving orders and checking in on you. The street was dark and devoid of any life except for your team. Multiple of the surrounding streets had been evacuated and shut off to the public. The scene had something straight out of a heist movie. Except this time, the robbers weren’t going to pull of the perfect theft and get away. You would make sure of it.

“We’re almost there,” you said. “Twenty meters to the entrance. Awaiting permission to go inside.”

“You have permission,” your boss spoke over your earpiece. One last look at your teammates, and you were on the move. Sneaking inside soundlessly was easy. The backrooms were all empty. As you passed abandoned offices, you saw knocked over office equipment and paper scattered on the floors. Lamps had been left on and you heard the faint buzzing of a running computer that was most certainly unoccupied. Moving swiftly, you walked along the corridors, guns pointed ahead at all times. Your teamwork was untouchable. One of you made sure the path was clear, then the rest followed.

“You are one room away from the entry hall,” your boss said.

“Understood,” you answered and slowed down your steps. A cat wouldn’t have been able to walk more silently than you did. Now your ears picked up voices. Somebody was crying. There was shuffling of feet on marble.

“Shut up!” a male voice yelled. The crying faded out into muteness. In the dark, you could make out figures. A few countertops and a good distance separated you and your team from the demons and the hostages. You nodded to your colleagues and they understood. The four of you parted ways, moving into the room and taking shelter behind the bank counters. Once again, you checked the situation. Close to you, four hostages sat on the floor. A woman was still crying, and you could tell she was struggling to keep herself quiet. Around them, four demons stood, dressed in black. Their ski masks kept their faces hidden, but their body languages told you enough. They were not to be messed with. By the far entrance, the fifth demon was positioned with the remaining hostage, and you could spot the police cars outside in the town square. From behind your hiding spots, each of your teammates had a clear line of fire on the demons. The fifth one would be taken out from police outside the bank. You were just about to send a signal to your boss to let her know you were in position. Suddenly, the scraping of feet on the floor alarmed you.

“What was that?” one of the demons barked. The noise had come from your colleague beside you, who was now flinching. You had no time to think. No time to complain about her mistake. If you didn’t act now, they were going to close in on you.

You jumped up, pointing your gun at the closest demon. Right away, the remaining demons had their guns aimed at the hostages’ heads. Your colleagues had done as you, guns held towards the demons. Now you got a proper look at them. They were towering over the hostages, who were crouched on the floor in intimidation. The one in front of you only chuckled. Humans didn’t laugh like this. It was pure malice and recklessness displayed in front of you.

“I thought we told you to stay away,” he began. The only thing you could truly note about him was his mouth. The rest was covered by his mask and where the white of eyes should have been, two orbs of darkness sat, eying you like prey.

“Let the hostages go and we won’t shoot you,” you ordered, with a surprisingly calm voice.

“And why would we do that when we can just kill them?” he asked. His gaze momentarily focused on his fellow demons, as if he was a stand-up comedian and he had just delivered the funniest punch line.

“You will die if you harm even one of the hostages,” you stated.

“Oh, is that so? Humans never learn, do they?” he said. This monster was completely insane. And suicidal too, it seemed. “Go on, shoot.”

First, you thought he was urging your team to shoot. Then you realized, he was looking at the demon closest to you. The very demon you had your gun pointed at. He was asking the other demon to shoot at the hostages. You were preparing to pull the trigger.

But then your mind started racing. You stared at him intensely as your heartbeat quickened uncontrollably in your chest. The dark eyes. The soft lips. His skinny frame and gentle hands. You knew exactly who this demon was. You’d be able to pick him out of any crowd. What the hell was he doing here?

“Shoot!” the bigger demon shouted again, but Chanhee didn’t budge.

“I told you he was goddamn useless,” one of the others said. “Get rid of him.”

“You don’t deserve any of this money,” the bigger demon snarled, and his hand went to his belt. You knew there were human lives on the line. What you were about to do could be considered not only stupid, but wildly imprudent. Emotions were supposed to be left out of police operations. But how could you not have been blind with shock? You were going to let your heart control your body over your mind, and if it was deadly so be it. The bigger demon was now raising his arm at Chanhee.

Before you knew it, you had jumped out from behind the counter. You mirrored the demon’s actions and you pointed at him, pulling the trigger. At the same time, his gun went off. Just in time, you had pushed your body between the two demons.

“Y/N!” Chanhee shouted.

The bullet hit your shoulder and you fell backwards. Burning heat spread through your insides as you stumbled and reached for anything, anyone to hold on to. You could only think of Chanhee, and how your bullet had pierced through the big demon’s skull perfectly. Then, your colleagues opened the gunfire. The shots sounded almost muffled through the intense amount of adrenaline in your blood and the initial effect of being hit. Your body fell to the ground with a heavy thud, and a wave of agony spread through you. You grimaced at the excruciating pain, hands grasping at your shoulder. All you could see was white, before you sank onto your back and the world went dark.

~approximately 18 months later~

“Y/N,” Chanhee said, for the sixth time within the last ten minutes. You pressed your phone harder against your ear, holding it up with your shoulder. Your hands were too busy writing a police report on your laptop.

“Chanhee, I promise I’m writing the last few sentences already,” you assured him. He liked it when you came home early, leaving enough time to relax on the couch with him, instead of falling into bed like a corpse. Today, he was especially insistent, urging you to stay on the phone with him until you had finally packed up your things and left the police department. You guessed he was just trying to make sure you couldn’t stop somewhere along the way and start working on something new. And maybe that fear wasn’t so far off the truth.

“I’m done,” you said. “Status report: I’m switching off the laptop. Now I’m taking my bag. I’m getting up. I’m locking my office behind me. I’ll be home in twenty minutes or less.”

His laughter on the other side of the line made you smile. You couldn’t wait to see his face and get to hug him.

“Alright. I can’t wait,” he said. “I’ll see you.”

The walk home was calm. A soft breeze went through your hair and in the distance, you heard sirens of an ambulance. Promptly you were catapulted back to your memories and into the vehicle after you had been shot. Going in and out of consciousness, you kept repeating one name: Chanhee. When you woke up in the hospital bed, you half-expected him to be sitting there, waiting for you to wake up. But of course that was not the case. He had committed a crime – or at least tried to commit one. The prosecution was in his favor. They acknowledged his compliance with the police and his hesitation to hurt the hostage. Plus, he sold out the other demons and showed no resistance at any point. His regret and sorrow was apparent, nonetheless his mistake caused him 11 months in prison – by far less than the other robbers got.

People had called you insane for standing by him. Others thought you brave and newspapers named him the first good demon in the world. Every week you visited him in prison, often more than once. You made the most of your short time to talk, and with your kindest words you let him know that you were still here for him. Every visit you learned a bit more about how he had ended up in that bank.

After he had walked out on you, he had nowhere to go. So, after strolling the street mazes for days he found himself in the very demon night club he had once warned you about. Most unsavory figures twisted his mind into thinking doing good was no use. They made him believe he would never be able to escape the demon in him, and he might as well embrace the malice. They more or less pulled him along to the robbery, while he overthought the whole thing. It hurt you, seeing him cry as he recounted how scared he was when he saw the hostages. Some of them ended up injured, but all survived. You knew he would have never forgiven himself, had one of them died.

The day you picked him up from prison was a day you’d never forget. Holding each other in your arms felt so right, and you had missed it tremendously. His months at the prison hadn’t been easy, but you made sure he felt loved and cared for when he finally returned. He almost refused to believe that you would open your doors to him again. It was no question to you. You’d always be here for him. Even when he insisted you keep your office at home locked at all times. You trusted him almost a hundred percent by now. His demon only came out rarely, especially in times of stress or intense negative emotions. But you only treated him with kindness, and he gave back just as much of it.

“Chanhee I’m home!” you shouted as you entered your home.

“I’m up here,” he spoke. You ran up the stairs, excited to see him. Your eyes fell onto the open door of your office. For a moment, your heartbeat quickened as you approached it. You must have forgotten to lock the door that morning. Slowly, you pushed it open.

“Hello,” he grinned. You only chuckled as you watched him, sitting by your desk, a book in his hands. “I hope you don’t mind me being in here. This chair is so comfortable.”

“It’s all good,” you said. “Do you know what day it is today?”

“Umm…Friday?” he asked.

“It’s been exactly two years since you first started living here,” you said. “I think we should get some take out and celebrate, what do you say?”

“I can’t believe it’s been two years,” he said. “I’d love that. And you know what? I think I’m ready to start the internship at the police station.”

You smiled proudly. He had put his book down and was getting up.

“You’re going to do good things,” you said, wrapping your arms around him. He finally had found his place. His home. And you were never going to give up on him.

#chanhee scenarios #new scenarios #tbz new scenarios #tattoos #the boyz icons #the boyz scenarios #tbz scenarios #tbz imagines #tbz angst #tbz fluff #chanhee fluff #chanhee angst #chanhee x reader #kpop fluff #kpop angst #demon au #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines

142 notes · View notes

kim-ruzek · 3 years

Text

Girl Crush

Summary: This time, Sylvie does not laugh at the bluntness of Kim’s words, instead blushing a fierce shade of pink. She was only half looking at Kim when she said those words, but now Sylvie looks at the other woman more directly. She is greeted by Kim looking at her—although, maybe staring would be more accurate. It’s an intense look, a look her friend has never given her before, a look that says that maybe Kim doesn’t want to be just her friend tonight.

Or; at the end of 3x23, Sylvie doesn't go home with Roman-- but instead with Kim. And gets the fucking she deserves.

Warnings: Smut, smut, smut. This is just my excuse to give Sylvie the orgasm she deserves and the one she clearly did not get with Ratman. And so there's also Roman bashing bc Roman is trash.

Word Count: 4.5k

Read on AO3

Notes: For @gilbxrt-blythe bc Abby started™ something in my mind on Sunday, thus leading me to writing this all yesterday bc,,, our girls deserve so much better than Sean Roman and this fandom needs more wlw content. Let's save our darling girls!!

Someone’s hooking up tonight.

Chili’s words go around in Sylvie’s head all night. Largely, she ignores them—or rather, tries to—just focusing on the beer she’s sipping faster than usual and the joyous atmosphere in the bar but there’s those moments it creeps into her thoughts.

Her PIC is right about one thing, the thing she said about volcanoes. The firehouse has been so tense of late and she can tell that a weight has been lifted off them, and Sylvie thinks that’s quite like a volcano. But she—perhaps, stubbornly—refuses to admit Chili might be right about the hooking up part.

If anyone was to know Sylvie’s thoughts, know that she’s trying, more vehemently that she should, to deny that, they question why. To which Sylvie would just claim that it’s because she hates gossiping about her co-workers, people who are her friends are family, and that she doesn’t like speculating on their sex lives.

Sylvie even tried to insist this to herself, not that it works. How can it when she can feel her toes curl slightly at the thought of just... Throwing everything to the wind and just enjoying some pure, unadulterated primal ecstasy. That she finds herself subconsciously looking around the bar, as if she’s trying to find a suitable candidate.

She has always felt the weight of her friends’ turmoil so heavily. Empathetic to the core, her father said, when he grinned at her becoming a paramedic, telling her it’s what she was born to do. She likes it, she does. She likes caring about those important to her, to care about anyone who’s a decent human—and even those who aren’t—but it gets tiring, feeling the weight of their unhappiness on her shoulders.

It’s not even like she was directly wrapped up in the drama going around in the house, but it was so intense—a volcano getting ready to burst. And something tells her that she won’t be able to shake it off with just getting drunk amongst her friends.

“Hey, Brett,” Sylvie looks to her left, seeing Sean Roman slip into the seat beside her. The paramedic smiles at him, ever polite, turning so she’s more face on to him. He was close to her before she shifted, and she thought that would be annoying, if he wanted to converse.

Only, Sylvie quickly gets that he doesn’t have talking on mind.

The patrol officer is quick to close the space between them again, shifting himself and resting a hand on the back edge of her seat. She could get away if she wanted, but it gives off a certain trapped vibe, a vibe that shows exactly the kind of intentions Roman has.

There’s a twist of uncomfortableness in her stomach. Roman is sort of attractive, she guesses, although she doesn’t know if she’d fully trust her taste in men yet; there being too many wrongly stacked choices compared to the right. But even if he was the hottest specimen she had ever seen, there’s something off putting about his approach, leaving her with the impression he doesn’t want her to move away from him.

But there’s that volcano inside her, wanting to explode, and the alcohol is already coursing through her veins, so despite the sober parts of her brain metaphorically screwing up its nose at the officer, Sylvie doesn’t attempt to move again, instead leaning on her arm, interested in whatever he has to say.

“I’ve got a few more interesting stories like that, if you want to hear more?” Roman smiles hungrily at her, his eyes making her feel like a piece of meat. He had just finished telling her an amusing story from patrol and she gets the impression that’s his hook, and that now he’s trying to reel her in.

“The bar’s a bit loud, though. So we should go back to mine,” There it is, the beginning of the reel. He’s looking hopeful at her, and there’s an attempt to look appealing, sexy. It doesn’t work, but Sylvie finds herself shrugging, thinking that she could do a lot worse that Sean Roman.

“Hey, Sylvie. Roman.” Before she can agree, Kim appears, seemingly out of nowhere.

The brunette is on the other side of her, her arm lightly touching her as she greets them. In a way, Kim is affectively penning Sylvie in like her partner did, but it doesn’t make her stomach twist in that same uncomfortable way. There’s some meaning to that, she knows, but she doesn’t bother to reflect on what.

“Hey, Burgess.” Roman seems irked. He’s looking at her rather rudely, and Sylvie doesn’t like that. She cares about her friends and Kim is one of her first Chicago friends who doesn’t work with her. So she grins at her a little wider then she already would, wrapping her arms around the other officer.

“Hey, Kim!” If Roman picks up on the pointedness in Sylvie’s tone, he doesn’t let on.

“Hi,” Kim smiles at her again, repeating a greeting before continuing and Sylvie must be a little more tipsy than she thought because her mind is immediately drawn to how pretty Kim looks when she smiles. “Chili had to leave early and asked me if I could drive you home instead. She said sorry, but there was a cute guy who she needed to know a bit better,”

Sylvie knows instantly that Kim is lying. Chili asked no such thing, considering she wanted to get absolutely wasted tonight and had no intention of driving herself home, let alone Sylvie. This lie is an anchor, a get out of jail card, a bailout. For who, she doesn’t know—doesn’t think that she’s too drunk to need it, but she takes it anyway.

“Oh, she promised she wouldn’t!” Sylvie goes along with the lie Kim has spun. “I’m sorry for inconveniencing you,”

“Eh. It’s no problem.” Kim shrugs her off with a wave of a hand.

“I was actually about to leave myself. I can take Brett, you can just relax. That way I can continue telling her some patrol stories,” Roman inserts himself back in the conversation but Kim has no patience for him.

“We’re partners, I can tell her the stories. C’mon, Sylvie, let’s go.” Kim gently encourages Sylvie up. There’s a disappointment at not being able to expend all this tension away, but girl code is more important, and girl code is telling her to go with Kim.

“We have to walk around the block—I don’t actually have my car, so we’ll have to call a taxi.” Kim tells her when they leave Molly’s, arms linked. Neither of them are anything more than tipsy, but Sylvie finds herself giggling at her words.

“Then why did you drag me out? Was a guy bothering you?” She asks.

“Oh, trust me, I did that for you. You’d regret that so much tomorrow. The guy’s my partner and all, but he... I was on patrol with his ex. Going there—that wouldn’t give you any sort of satisfaction.” Kim explains, and Sylvie widens her eyes, giggling again.

“Really?” The irony of Sylvie spending the evening denying that she cares about gossip saying this, leaning in with intrigue, is not lost on her.

“Jenn didn’t say anything outright but... I asked why she got engaged so quickly and she expressed that he—her fiancé—is very talented with his tongue, if you get what I mean. I inferred the rest. A man who won’t eat out his girl is not a man worth your time.” Kim says very manner of fact, and Sylvie laughs at it, the brunette joining in shortly after.

“It’s the truth!” Kim insists through her laughter. They’ve walked around the corner, now, Kim quickly dialling for a taxi through her laughs.

“My ex fiancé never did.” Sylvie confesses when their laughter died down. Kim lifts an eyebrow.

“Never?”

“Never. He said it was disgusting. Didn’t stop him wanting me to suck him, though.” Sylvie can’t help the bitter edge to her words, thinking about Harrison and thinking about how she could waste her time on him. Kim, evidently, thinks the same.

“Life is too short for those kinds of men.” Kim says. Her words are assured, confident, just a statement and Sylvie just hums in response, thinking that Kim probably never wasted years like she did.

“Hey, Sylvie. I don’t mean that like... You deserve so much better.” Kim picks up on her sudden drop of mood. “I don’t know why we lower ourselves for arses like that, but you deserve so much better. Better than people like Harrison and Roman.”

“So do you—if your exes never..?” Sylvie quickly adds on and Kim lets out a snort.

“Oh yeah. I’ve dated my fair share of arseholes.” She nods. “I don’t know why they’re like this. You’re so pretty, I don’t know how anyone could want to fuck you and not completely worship you.”

This time, Sylvie does not laugh at the bluntness of Kim’s words, instead blushing a fierce shade of pink. She was only half looking at Kim when she said those words, but now Sylvie looks at the other woman more directly. She is greeted by Kim looking at her—although, maybe staring would be more accurate. It’s an intense look, a look her friend has never given her before, a look that says that maybe Kim doesn’t want to be just her friend tonight.

It deepens Sylvie’s blush.

The air between them immediately shifts, and it feels almost so natural, Sylvie finds herself questioning whether the air always felt this thick and charged. The air is heavy, and there’s this certain kind of electricity between them; an electric energy of sorts that reminds her of when she was eighteen and her friends and her caught a ride into the nearest big town and snuck into the club—and of Sylvie waiting outside for her friends after and sharing her first—and only—kiss with a girl.

“That’s cos we’re women, though? We know what we want.” Sylvie tries to push all those thoughts aside.

Tries to ignore what she feels building in the air—because surely, it’s just in her mind? Just because she was thinking about throwing caution to the wind and having a night of passionate, explosive sex—and tries to not focus on how pretty Kim looks, how she looks like she’s the best and worst decision she could ever make wrapped up in one.

On how Kim is looking at her with such intense eyes, almost hungry eyes, eyes that says she wants to be one of those men.

“That’s not just why. I wouldn’t just eat you out until you come screaming because I’m a woman, I’d do it because I want to make you come undone at my doing—like you deserve.” Kim’s words sends pulsating throbs through her body, and she can feel herself getting turned on, her body feeling like Kim has just found the secret code to her with just her words. Sylvie stares at Kim, with shock.

“You... I... What?” Sylvie splutters, unsure of what exactly Kim is saying.

“I’m just saying. You’re hot, Brett. I can see why Roman tried.” There’s a pause. “I’m not trying to ruin our friendship. Tell me if I’m wrong, that I’m not picking up on some things and I’ll shut up and just get you home. But if I’m right, I’ll fuck you right.”

“I...” Sylvie is facing Kim dead on, now, the space between them feeling like too much, electric and heavy. It’s dark, the only light being the street lamp. But it catches the side of Kim’s face, lighting it up in such a pretty way and it stirs something deep and primal inside her.

The dark, positively hungry eyes Kim is looking at her with doesn’t help, either. It’s not like earlier, with Roman, it doesn’t make her feel like a piece of meat. It makes her feel like she’s the world’s most precious delicacy and that Kim would give her left arm just to get a taste.

“You’re right.” The words are barely out of her mouth when Kim is closing the space between them. One of her arms slips around the blonde’s waist, pulling her flush to her, the other gently resting on the bend of Sylvie’s neck as she kisses her.

Kim’s lips are soft, her touch gentle. The kiss starts off slow, although Sylvie wouldn’t have thought it with the way her body immediately responds, aching and her heart beating. But then Kim deepens the kiss, encouraging her mouth to open wider, slipping in her tongue. Sylvie responds eagerly, her arms wrapping around Kim, practically grabbing hold of her so she can return the kiss more fiercely.

If this was a preview into the abilities of Kim’s tongue, Sylvie doesn’t think that she’ll have to work her long before—to use Kim’s words—Sylvie’s coming undone at her doing.

When the taxi arrives, honking it’s horn on the two, busy kissing each other like they’re the only people in the world, the alcohol running through their veins and their and respective tiring days edging them on, making them so filled with want for this, they pull apart, out of breath, chest heaving.

They share smiles, little light-hearted giggles as they pull apart, climbing into the taxi. Kim opens the door, grabbing at Sylvie’s hand as she does so before moving swiftly out the way so she can climb in first.

They don’t make out in the taxi. They’re not even jammed up too close together, their bodies just turned towards each other. They are close enough for them to still have their hands interlocked, although it’s more like their arms at places and for their feet to lightly tap at the other’s, playing a footsy kind of game but they’re friends, they shared a taxi before, they’ve even had this ease of physical contact before.

Sylvie would almost wouldn’t be able to tell that the line between friends and lovers had been blurred for tonight, if it wasn’t for the electric energy between them, from how Sylvie’s just waiting until they can get back to hers, and how whenever Kim moves her fingers up and down her arm, gently running against her skin, it feels like little shocks.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been to yours,” Kim says as Sylvie leads her up the stairs. They’re deviating between holding hands and not, joking around as they make their way. Sometimes Kim’s spinning ahead of her, their hands dropping from their grip, and sometimes Sylvie is.

“We have only known each other a year and we have busy jobs.” Sylvie points out. Kim sticks out her tongue playfully and Sylvie has to stop herself from capturing it, and kissing Kim again. “This is me.”

Sylvie goes in first, opening her front door and placing her keys in her pot. Kim follows, and Sylvie watches as the brunette kicks off her shoes immediately, shrugging off her coat. For someone who’s never been here before, Kim fills the air with a confidence and it only fuels Sylvie’s need, her own confidence as the volcano erupts.

With a swift kick, Sylvie shuts her door and then her hands are on Kim, pulling her close. She grabs her hand, stopping her from moving further away from her, pulling her to her and capturing her lips in a kiss.

“Hm,” Kim moans against her, kissing her with a casual, yet urgent force. The melodic hum is tinted in amusement, and she pulls away briefly, to Sylvie’s disappointment. “So, we’re going straight to this? Aren’t even going to ask if I want a beer?”

Her words are said in an amused tone, but Sylvie still finds herself blushing, cursing herself slightly.

“Oh. Right. Sorry. Do you—” She’s interrupted by Kim kissing her.

“You’re so easy to tease. Don’t worry, I don’t want anything to drink. Eat, maybe.” Sylvie goes to panic again but then she sees the glint sparkling away in her eye and she blushes, getting the play on words.

“Hm, well there’s only one thing on the menu if you’re,” she pauses, “Hungry,”

Sylvie could swear that Kim licks her lips but then the brunette is kissing her again and all thoughts go out of her head, the only thing on her mind being the taste of Kim and getting her to her bedroom as soon as she can.

Neither of them are determined to disconnect from one another for long, not even in the interest in getting to her bed unscathed from injuries. Kim hits into the sofa and Sylvie nearly trips over something she left on the floor, but the two stay touching, kissing each other hungrily and needily.

Sylvie would love to say that she savoured the moment Kim took off her top, but any clothes removed is done hastily, urgently, the clothes feeling too much, too intrusive. All Sylvie can do is give Kim a quick, appreciative look over after she tosses off her top.

Although, she thinks, that could do more with that Kim then helps her get her top off, and rewards her with her lips on her neck immediately after.

“There,” Sylvie manages to gasp out, pointing at which door is her bedroom’s, as Kim pushes her up against her wall, attacking her neck, nipping and sucking at the flesh. She’s going to have a mark there tomorrow, but tonight, tonight she doesn’t care, just tilting her head aside for her to have more access, her hands just grabbing at Kim as she does so.

Despite the urgency to get this far into her apartment, Kim has apparently decided they don’t need to finish the stretch right now, focusing on kissing along her collarbone, back up along her neck and jawline, stealing kisses from her lips before heading back down. She doesn’t go too far down with her kisses, but it’s enough to send Sylvie’s mind haywire, especially when she brushes along with her teeth.

All Sylvie can do is grab at Kim’s hair, the other hand resting on her waist, running up and down her back with her nails and moan at the kisses, grasping at her. One of Sylvie’s legs loops around Kim’s in a kind of way, pulling her lower body closer to her own, in the perfect place for Sylvie to grind against, needing to alleviate some tension.

It’s only when Kim’s hand snakes away from it’s current position and runs along the waistband of her jeans, deftly undoing her button and slipping inside does Sylvie gasp, pushing at Kim slightly. Kim’s hand is still cold from the cool Chicago night air, and Sylvie can feel the cold as Kim runs her hand against the cotton of her panties, lightly brushing over her throbbing clit.

“Bedroom. Kim, bedroom,” Sylvie gasps.

“Hm. Impatient, are we?” Kim grins at her, and Sylvie can’t help comparing it to a wolf looking at it’s prey. The brunette is so sweet and kind, Sylvie never would’ve guessed that she was like this—so confident and devious—in the bedroom. Or, rather, the hallway. But Sylvie wouldn’t have it any other way.

Kim steps away from Sylvie then, and she immediately misses the warmth of her body, and her hand's presence from where it was so close to where she wants—no, needs—her. She’s going into Sylvie’s bedroom, beckoning the blonde to follow.

Sylvie is starting to rather feel like putty in Kim’s hands, and she’s never been a passive participant in her sex life—well, except when she lets men (Harrison) rule how she should be—and she’s not about to start.

She follows Kim on through, and she already has an advantage knowing the layout of her bedroom. Sylvie’s hands are on Kim again, and she’s leading, practically pushing, Kim to her bed, the brunette having no choice but to lie down on it, Sylvie immediately straddling her.

“Not a very good cop, are you?” Sylvie teases her, and when Kim goes to protest, she grinds down slightly, knowing exactly where it’ll cause friction. It has the desired effect, Kim moaning, her eyes fluttering shut slightly. Her hands are resting of Sylvie’s hips, and they go up then, stroking at the soft skin of her stomach.

“Bra, off. Now,” Kim says, running a hand along the edge of the bra. Sylvie grins wickedly at her, wondering why Kim ever thought she still had the upper hand, to doll out an order.

“Yes. That’s a good idea.” Sylvie shifts down Kim slightly, resting more weight on her own kneeled legs, allowing for Kim to sit up. The brunette clearly thinks it’s so she can help Sylvie with the bra, but Sylvie catches her hands, stopping her, and instead undoes Kim’s bra.

Sylvie’s never been intimate with a woman like this. There’s been those dreams—day dreams and actual dreams—that she spent a while trying to ignore, and thinking she’ll never act upon. But she’s never, physically, been with one and whereas her confidence has gotten her this far, she falters as Kim takes off her bra.

There’s that hesitation, that hesitation that she wants Kim—needs Kim—that this is exactly how she wants to explode tonight, but there’s that knowledge that she’s inexperienced in this, hitting her as she’s confronted with Kim’s naked chest.

“Is this too much?” Kim picks up straight away that Sylvie is having a moment, her eyebrows furrowing, turning concerned. “We can stop or just make out. Whatever you want—consent still applies with two women, y’know, and I won’t mind.”

Sylvie looks at her, Kim’s voice so gentle and caring, her big, brown eyes only filled with concerned, and something inside her throbs and Sylvie’s hesitation wears off as she realises that there’s nothing to be intimidated by, and Kim won’t mind if she has to guide her a little.

“Nah, I’m just taking your beauty in.” Sylvie jokes, before adding more seriously, “This is exactly what I want, Kim.”

“Good.” Kim smiles. “Because I’m feeling that we should even things here.”

Sylvie should’ve know that Kim would take off her bra as soon as she could, the brunette raking her eyes greedily over her body. She grabs at Sylvie’s thighs, positioning her in a way that she can sit on her and they can kiss with ease.

Kim doesn’t spend long kissing her lips before she’s travelling again, her fingers gently tracing patterns on her back as she kisses down her neck, collarbone, going between kisses and nips. Sylvie tries to adjust herself so that she can kiss the dip of Kim’s shoulder as she does so, but Kim tries her hardest to stop any attempts, not wanting to be restricted in her own explorations.

When Kim’s mouth gets to her chest, she pauses. Sylvie has barely any time to wonder what will happen next when Kim’s hand is palming one breast, making her gasp in surprise. The brunette lifts her mouth from her body, instead taking advantage of her agape mouth, kissing her deep. And then she’s moving them, laying Sylvie down, shifting who’s winning this lustful game of cat and mouse they’re playing.

Kim doesn’t straddle her like Sylvie did earlier, just making them vertical, Kim between her legs. She’s squeezing her breast again, and then her mouth is around the other’s nipple, rolling her tongue around it, and Sylvie lets out a loud moan she’d almost be embarrassed about if it didn’t feel so good. Kim works her like this for god knows how long before switching.

And then Kim is once again pulling away and Sylvie pouts, to Kim’s amusement.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Kim coos at her. “I’m just taking off your jeans so I can fuck you with my mouth.”

Sylvie never knew hearing Kim swear could sound so hot.

“Your jeans too. I was you as naked as I am,” She doesn’t know how she still has brain power to compose thoughts, focused so much on the needy ache in her body.

Kim steps off the bed so that she can shimmy off her jeans. Her panties match the bra she was wearing and Sylvie couldn’t even describe how much that made her desire spike. She wonders if Kim was working today and if she changed before going to Molly’s—curious to know if Kim wore such lacy stuff to work.

Surely not? Sylvie sure as hell doesn’t, let alone wearing a matching set.

“Like what you see?” Kim flirts before climbing back onto the bed, immediately getting to work on helping Sylvie get off her own jeans. There’s a moment when they’re off that Sylvie gets momentarily self conscious of her near-naked body, but then Kim’s running a finger along her panties again, pressing down on her clit through the fabric.

The sound it elicits from her is a mix between a gasp, moan and whine.

“Kim,” Sylvie practically begs as she releases the pressure, resuming to gentle barely there strokes as she returns her mouth to her breasts, collarbone and neck. Kim seems to get the message because then she’s—with skill that makes Sylvie wonder just how many times Kim has done this—hooking her fingers around her panties and taking them off.

She doesn’t hesitate to resume her actions, now without the fabric in the way. Kim dips a finger inside her, her thumb brushing against her clit with differentiating levels of pressure and Sylvie can’t help but shut her eyes and moan at the sensation, Kim working her with her talented fingers.

“You’re so wet,” Kim whispers into her ear, nibbling against her jawline before adding another finger. She laughs hotly against her as Sylvie tightens, squeezing Kim’s fingers. She’s just about used to the feeling, and the motions, a pressure inside her building, but then Kim’s pulling them out and she’s whining.

And then Kim’s pulling away from her, and Sylvie just about opens her eyes, lifting up her head, in time to see down her body, looking devilishly. And then Kim’s licking her and it’s everything she’s wanted, needed, and her head is falling back down. Kim works her with her mouth, and all Sylvie can think is about how indeed, Kim is mightily skilled with her tongue.

The tension in Sylvie builds quickly, fast approaching her orgasm, Kim lapping at her and using her fingers to add that extra sensation, rubbing and pinching, alternating between making she’s in place and fondling her breasts and Sylvie’s gripping at her covers, gasping and whining as she writhes, overwhelmed at the sensations.

All thoughts have left her mind, and all Sylvie can focus on is the quick approaching climax, not caring about how lost in it she must be—not caring how loud she’s being, how unfiltered and uncontrolled she is, just focused on how good Kim is making her feel.

And then she reaches her climax, Kim is taking her over and she gets her wish—it’s everything Sylvie has needed, and she screams, full of ecstasy, her body overcome with sensation, toes curling as she comes around Kim’s tongue, the brunette continuing to lap at her, guiding her through her orgasm.

“That...” Sylvie pants as soon as she can. “That—exactly what I needed.”

It’s not perfect grammar, but she thinks Kim gets it, if how she smiles and moves so she’s cuddling against Sylvie, is any indication.

#kim burgess #sylvie brett #chicago pd #Chicago fire #kim burgess x sylvie brett #Chicago pd fanfiction #Chicago fire fanfiction #ree writes #ree's.writing #ree.smut #ree.wlw

28 notes · View notes

bamf-jaskier · 3 years

Text

A long ramble of thoughts about the history of chaos on the continent and why Fringilla’s use of forbidden magics is pretty neat

So one thing not too many people knowing about the Witcher is that magic is called Chaos for a very specific reason: it is the opposite of Order. In Sword of Destiny, Borch tells Geralt that Chaos is the aggressor and Order is endangered and needs protecting. Chaos is what mages/elves/witchers/sources/etc can channel in order to produce magic.

It's important to note that magic DID NOT EXIST before the conjunction of the spheres so it's pretty strongly implied that before the conjunction Order and Chaos were one and the Conjunction split them apart, leaving Order vulnerable and Chaos in the hands of living beings to manipulate. When the conjunction happened, no race (humans, elves, werebubbs, etc) knew how to use magic but eventually most of them found a way to use chaos.

What is interesting is that we are told that Witchers/Mages/Elves all see magic differently but we are never told how. It is mentioned briefly that mages "pervert" magic by the Elves but we don't know what perversion of magic looks like to the elves because it is subjective to their own worldview. However, looking at the earliest human tribes on the continent, the Dauk and the Wozgor we can get some idea of the difference between human magic and elf magic. Both groups were very influenced by ritualistic group magic as well as worship of the gods. Many of these gods such as Melitele are still worshipped.

The Dauk were more into fertility and harvest, think early Beltane Midsummer stuff, while the Wozgor primarily worshipped Lilit with Blood Sacrifices. So we see humans are in a group-mentality when it comes to magic and summoning, they pull power from the earth and pool together their magic to create spells. At this time, elves and humans were not considered enemies so group-magic and more nature-esque magic is accepted by the elves. This is also supported by the dryads and elves seeming to prefer druids who still use magic group-magic today.

So now we start to get into when the philosophical schism on magic happened. Clearly, at some point, humans started working on less "group/nature magic" and on more individualistic magic. By the nature of chaos it is consuming so as more humans began working on individual magic, they became more power hungry. I had a theory that it was human's use of individualized magic that led them to leaving the nomadic tribe mentality and instead moving to more Nordling-Like culture where they live in one place and fight with other tribes, eventually building cities, colonizing, and in general taking the standard course of human history. So now humans have magic. And they have POWER.

So you get mages who are fighting for their tribes, their groups and eventually kingdoms like Novigrad begin to form. Now the Brotherhood was formed in the 8th century by the Novigrad Union which was a group of druids, mages, and priests who signed a non-agression pact to stop the raids and warfare that were so common for centuries. However, the Union fell apart due to difference in views on magic while the Brotherhood stayed together.

The Brotherhood is now sort of the ruling party on the continent, it's the only power really left after the Union. It's not its own Kingdom so it can technically be considered neutral. This puts a lot of responsibility on the Brotherhood and the Northern Rulers are overwhelmed by the number of monsters. Previously, humans were so focused on killing each other they couldn't really organize and do anything about the monsters but now that society is developing it's a real problem for trade and travel. so they create the first Witchers in Rissberg. However, once they find out that the Witcher don't have the same magic aptitude as mages, they are discarded as failed experiments.

This is where is gets interesting again for me. Because Witchers actually can cast magic as strong as mages, they elect to use signs but Witchers can pool their magic together in order to cast more powerful spells. So what was the difference between mages and witcher that had the mages deem Witchers as failures? I am theorizing that Witchers channel chaos whereas mages manipulate it.

The way I describe it in my fic is that Witchers act as a conduit for chaos, think of it like sucking up magic into a straw, the Witcher is the straw, they bring chaos in it's purest form into the world. Then, once the magic is in our realm, they shape it into the spell or form they desire. It's similar to how elves and ancient humans used magic. This is why the elves don't call a Witcher's magic a perversion but a mage's magic is.

I'm theorizing that Mages on the the other hand bring magic in through almost a mold. When a mage summons chaos, that chaos can only be used for the very specific purpose that they want in that moment. It ties into their philosophy on willpower. What you desire is the magic you have. So a Witcher could begin to cast an Aard and then halfway through change the sign into an Igni and it would work fine. However, a mage can't begin to cast a portal and then change it into a lightning bolt. But this is also the reason mages are so powerful, their magic is specific. It is decided and the willpower behind it makes it a stronger spell.

NOW FINALLY we can begin talking about forbidden magics. So I'm not going to get into the First and Second Ages of the Witchers but just know that Witchers are now off on the continent doing their own thing and monster hunting, creating their own culture, etc. The Brotherhood does NOT care for this. They can see control slipping from their fingers so they and they are worried other mages are going to experiment the same way they experimented to create Witchers but this time they will make something even more powerful. Something that could topple their power.

The Brotherhood begins to ban magic that could be used to manipulate the natural order. The main three banned magics of the Brotherhood are Goetia (demonology), Necromancy and Ancient Magics. Now demonology was actually practiced by the Wozgor and many think that Lilit was actually a demon they summoned. Necromancy and Ancient Magics both have the potential for abuse but not more so than any other form of magic. However these are all powerful magics. But it's not just BANNING magic that creates censure with the brotherhood. It's the stringent guidelines of how to perform magic even though we KNOW there are multiple ways to channel chaos. The Brotherhood also creates a system with the court that also creates censure because courtly expectations now place an emphasis on respectability and governance and how you should hold yourself, etc. Being a mage becomes a lot more restrictive and a lot less experimental.

So we have to ask ourselves, what does Fringilla do that causes her to be considered abhorrent, In Tissaia's words: "I will defend our way of life, The Brotherhood, The Academies, the order that we have built up over centuries, you've rejected it all Fringilla"

So here's what we KNOW Fringilla has done: Forced Mages in Servitude until they decide to serve the White Flame (of course Fringilla says it isn't servitude but Triss disagrees), Practice Necromancy, Demonology, and Fire Magics She specifically says the phrase "most of us came from Aretuza and Ban Ard" so here's what we have to consider, how did Fringilla get them there, she can't have kidnapped everyone and as well if u know some spoilers from the book then there are plenty of mages that voluntary work for Nilfgaard.

Fringilla works with ANYONE who has chaos, not just people deemed worthy by the Brotherhood. In addition, she works will all magic, no limitations. In many ways, Nilfgaardian magic is returning to ancient magic. If you watch the battle at Sodden, the mages perform a lot of life-force spells. I have a theory that those types of spells are MEANT to be performed in groups and since they aren't, the mage withers and dies.

Also, listen, in another world Nilfgaard could be the hero. If they didn't show Nilfgaard being generally evil like killing everyone and sacrificing mages and stuff they actually have good reasoning? Cintra is objectively terrible. They literally almost killed off an entire race? The Genocide of the Elves is very much brushed over and honestly Cintra should have been overthrown ages ago. Also Nilfgaard has policies of cooperativity and community and honestly if they didn't so morally bereft acts their society has a lot of potential.

Fringilla is returning magic to how to was pre-brotherhood where it's groups of loosely defined mages doing what they want. She is also trying to break of the individualistic mindset of most mages which I think is interesting because it goes against the very soul of how mages perform magic. It's like Tissaia said, Fringilla is rejecting centuries of tradition. In any other world, Fringilla would be the Katniss to the Brotherhood's Capital. If Nilfgaard wasn't cast as so brutal they would literally be considered a revolutionary force trying to oust a genocidal dictatorial system (Cintra). Granted, many people have compared Nilfgaard to either being a Roman Empire or Soviet Russia analog, both brutal totalitarian or imperial regimes which probably is part of the reason Nilfgaard is so brutal. I am suggesting that in another universe, Nilfgaard could be instead of an imperial-religious-type regime a more revolutionary force.

Perhaps an AU where Nilfgaard teams up with Cintran Rebels and arrives at the city to help Cintran Freedom Fighters tear it down and then allows Cintra to rebuild on their own terms. Basically, I’m talking about the overthrow of the monarchy system present in most of the continent.

I would really like to see an AU where Fringilla is a revolutionary figurehead trying to work to establish a democratic system in a monarchal society while going against centuries of magical tradition. I think with the addition of magic and complexity of politics not the continent there’s just so much to think about here.

#listen #if anyone #and I mean literally anyone #read to the end of this you are a hero #I know a lot of world building stuff about the Witcher and I like to talk about it #honestly I might write out this Fringilla thing myself #cause fucking hell it sounds very cool once I said it #but I have no time for WIPs #whatever #I don't care #let's GO #lemme know if you liked this at all #the witcher #fringilla #worldbuilding #nilfgaard #cintra #myposts

79 notes · View notes

giftofshewbread · 3 years

Text

Why God HAD to Create the Universe

: By David Cogburn Published on: September 29, 2021

We live in an amazing universe created by God. Its vastness seems infinite and almost more than we can comprehend. But here is a good question: Why did God even create a universe in the first place? God is eternal and lives inside eternity, so why go to the trouble of creating something like our universe? The truth is God “had to.” This article will explain why, but first, let me digress a moment.

As we all know, God is a Trinity God existing as Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Just as water can be a solid, liquid and gas helps explain how God can be one God with three essences. We also all know God is a God of love, and this occurs because God “IS” a “Relationship” through the Trinity, and relationship is what brings God His greatest joy. You can only have love if there is free will, which means you cannot have love unless you have the ability not to love.

He enjoys it so much that He decided to create more of it by creating angels to have a personal relationship with Him and with each other. Each angel was created perfect, sinless and holy in heaven. God loves them, and they love Him back, and each one is receiving the “best” God has to offer.

But then the unthinkable happened. Lucifer, God’s greatest angel, decided he, too, wanted to be worshipped like God. He took his eyes off God, put them onto himself, and committed the first sin in the Bible – pride. He rejected what God had to offer. Love is putting others first. Pride is putting yourself first, and Lucifer was powerful enough that his influence with the other angels caused one-third of the angels to also reject what God had to offer. They, too, fell from God’s grace.

God, knowing all things, obviously knew this would occur. It certainly saddened Him to know that His best was not good enough for one-third of His angels, and this appears to be about the time God may have decided to do something “incredibly different.” It’s easy for sinless, holy angels living in heaven with God to know Him and enjoy everything He offers. What would happen if God created a different kind of being to have a relationship with – human beings – whom He knew would sin from the beginning and would not be holy, sinless beings living in His presence and receiving the best He had to offer?

There is a saying in Las Vegas that applies to eternity. What happens in eternity STAYS in eternity. Once one-third of God’s angels fell from His grace inside eternity, there is “no way” for them to ever receive redemption and have their sin forgiven. God’s eternity is a perfect, holy, sinless eternity, and no sin can dwell there. Thus, God had to create a place inside eternity that was separate from where He dwells; this is why He created hell.

The Bible seems to show that once God creates a sentient being like an angel or a human being that He does not allow an eternal “annihilation” type of death to occur where you die and don’t exist anymore. It is an eternal “separation” type of death, which is actually far worse than an annihilation type of death. And since there is no physical death in eternity, there is no way to have “someone” die and pay the price for your sins, like in the case of angels. This is why Jesus said it is better never to have been born than to be born and end up not being saved.

The name of the game for everything is ETERNITY, period. Everything revolves around God, and life is not about some temporary 100-year life span on earth; it is about eternity with God or separated from God. How important is everything we do while alive for one second on earth compared to infinite trillions of years in eternity, and especially WHERE we live in eternity?

So now we get to the question of why God “had to” create a physical universe.

The answer is as simple as the nose on our faces. He had to create TIME, and that’s what the universe does. It creates TIME, which is temporary. Obviously, God does not need time, but when He decided to create human beings –knowing they would fall from His grace at the beginning and that all of humanity from that point forward would be born spiritually dead with a sin nature – God HAD to make sure we were not created and born with a sin nature INSIDE ETERNITY. What happens inside eternity “stays” inside eternity, so He had to provide us “time” to come to know Him and have a personal relationship with Him through Jesus Christ so that when we “do” enter eternity at our physical death, we enter “eternity” either saved through Jesus or not saved without Jesus.

Now, let’s sit back for a moment and try to contemplate what God has actually done. We know from His word that His plan has always been to spend eternity on earth with us human beings, so it appears He creates this incredible infinite-type universe for one main reason – to give us “time” to know Him and be saved, and that would mean this WHOLE UNIVERSE was created for one MAIN reason – for US and just us.

Just about everyone, it seems, believes in extra-terrestrial aliens, and most of them think of them as aliens from other planets. But the best answer is they are demonic and come from another dimension vs other planets. We know from Genesis that at one point, some of God’s fallen angels were allowed to become visible and have relations with human women to produce the Nephilim, the giants of the Old Testament. The Bible says the end times will be as they were in the days of Noah, so demonic beings becoming more and more active these past few decades could easily explain what is going on.

But surely, God would not create a universe as vast as ours for only us, would He? Why not? We know from His word that His plan is for His saved children to spend eternity on “earth” with Him forever, and we also know from His word that not only is this what happens but also when that happens.

After Jesus comes back and rules our planet for His millennial 1,000-year reign, Satan will be released to gather up his great multitude of people who have rejected Christ with their sin nature during His millennial reign. They are destroyed, and then we have God’s great White Throne judgment in which all unbelievers of all ages will be judged and be separated from God forever in hell. It is THEN that the sinful human race is over with. God ends up creating new heavens and a new earth in which the New Jerusalem in heaven comes down onto the new earth. There is no more sin due to no more mortal human beings, and we spend eternity with God just like He planned all along.

But here is another good question: God created perfect, sinless, holy angels inside eternity where there is no sin. Why would God now want to create a whole different kind of being in His image that “is” sinful, cannot live in His presence, will have to live our lives in this sinful universe, and have to fend for ourselves due to sin?

In heaven, God takes care of “everything” for us. We will want for “nothing.” On earth, WE have to provide everything for ourselves. We don’t live in God’s presence, but He’s still here, watches everything we do, and has given us His word, which explains His plan from the beginning to the end. It explains everything we need to know about how to live our lives from every perspective. Best of all, how to come to know Him and have a personal relationship with Him through Jesus and go from being spiritually dead for all eternity to being spiritually alive for all eternity.

Time is a paradox. It is the greatest blessing God ever gave us and also the greatest curse God ever gave us at the same time. With “time,” the greatest blessing is that we can become saved for eternity through Christ. And it’s the greatest curse because “time” destroys “everything.” Nothing in the whole universe can survive time, including the sun, moon and stars, as well as ourselves when we physically die.

What is the greatest difference between us sinful human beings and God’s holy angels? The difference is the GREATEST thing that God has ever done, and this appears to be the MAIN reason why God created us in the first place. It certainly pleases God when His angels serve Him, but angels do not have to have “faith.” You don’t need faith in heaven. There is symmetry in the Bible, and we know that one-third of the “saved” angels fell from God’s grace. And the symmetry is that it also appears from the Bible that approximately one-third of the “lost” human beings will be “saved.”

ALL human beings are born LOST and are spiritually DEAD. It appears all religions think you are saved if you do enough good works. However, you could be a Mother Theresa 1,000 times over, and you are still spiritually DEAD without Jesus, who paid the price to remove ALL of our sins. The name of the game on entering eternity is sin or no sin. It’s as simple as that when it comes to heaven and hell, and ONLY God could remove our sins by sacrificing His Son Jesus on a cross to pay for our sins.

So, what is it that God really wants from us sinful human beings? He wants to get MARRIED. He wants a BRIDE for His Son. God has set up marriage to be the most INTIMATE relationship there is when TWO become ONE in every aspect. Soul mates, as we like to say. This is why the church is called the bride of Christ. God did something far, far greater than most people, including born-again Christians, even have a clue about. It is such a big deal to God when an eternally lost human being comes to know Him through faith in Christ that He decided to share HIMSELF with us.

In John 14, Jesus tells us, “I am in my Father, and you are in me, and I am in you.” God the Holy Spirit comes to indwell all born-again believers. We literally become CONNECTED to God in a small way. Think of God as Windows and angels as Mac. Mac is separate from Windows but serves Windows. We are a Windows upgrade or update. We are a part of God now; chew on that a bit. WE ARE A PART OF GOD NOW! As in marriage, we are now TWO become ONE, and this also helps to understand why the Bible says we shall rule over angels in eternity. We have more “rank,” if you will.

We are heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ. God did not share Himself with His angels. It took eternally lost human beings, who never see God visibly and who are not now receiving the best He has to offer, to still come to have faith and love Him through His Son Jesus and become His bride for now and forever. WOW!!! How incredible is that? Of course, we will not truly know what all of this means until we enter heaven.

I used to be concerned that since some angels used their free will and goofed up and sinned, does that mean there’s a chance that I, too, might goof up and sin somehow inside eternity? The answer is that would be impossible for one simple reason: We are connected to God, and just as God would never sin, we will never sin. We will be able to love like God loves, and a myriad of other things too incredible to even know right now. As the Bible says, there is no way we can grasp all of the incredible, wonderful things God has in store for us in eternity. And this is why God wants us to be His ambassadors and share Jesus with others. He wants us to live our lives in a way that shows Jesus to others so that they, too, might desire to come to know Him as Lord and Savior.

One final thought: Let’s look at how God views things from a color perspective. Everything with God represents the color white, which is associated with Holiness, goodness, joy, pleasure, and ALL things good because they come from God, and this is what you have in heaven. God is Light, and white light is a “combination” of ALL colors in the color spectrum, which you would expect with God. In hell, where God does not dwell, everything is the total opposite of what you get with God in heaven, such as darkness because there is no light without God, unholiness, no joy, pain, suffering and torment, and all things bad. Black is the “absence” of ALL colors in the color spectrum. Thus, inside eternity “everything is ALL good with God or ALL bad without God, and it is impossible to combine any part of good with any part of bad.

BUT the universe is Gray. It is the ONLY place located inside “time” that God allows good and evil to co-exist together. Why would God do this? Because the universe with “time” is a sinful universe due to Adam’s sin and our sin natures. And God, knowing He would be invisible to us, does manage to make Himself “visible” in a different way through ALL of His incredible creation and through His holy word in the Bible. “Basic Instructions Before Leaving Earth” is the perfect acronym because God tells us everything we need to know about Him and about everything else.

As I mentioned a moment ago, God wants to get married and have a bride for His Son. But why would God pick as His bride the sinful human race over His holy angels? The answer is simple – opposites ATTRACT. We humans are one hundred percent the opposite of God in every aspect. Angels are too much like God and thus not a good match for a bride.

God, being a God of love, loves and is attracted to ALL human beings as marriage material. But just like us humans, He, too, is only interested in a soul mate who also loves Him back. Opposite attraction works both ways. God is 100 percent the opposite of us, and you would think we would be attracted to Him for that. But the huge problem is that humans have a sin nature that prevents us from being naturally attracted to God.

But because God has revealed Himself through ALL of His creation and through His word in the Bible, many humans DO see Him and fall in love with Him and want to get married to Him since He has made that possible.

As humans, most all of us desire to grow up, find our soul mate to marry, and hopefully have a wonderful and perfect, loving marriage relationship for the rest of our lives with each other. Our sin nature makes it less than perfect, but it seems that marriages between couples who love the Lord and are connected to Him do much better than those couples who do not know Him. Here is the best news: Our marriage to God “IS” the ONLY perfect, intimate loving relationship that is even possible, and it lasts forever. There is no divorce with God.

I am guessing that many of us have never even thought of our relationship with the Lord in these terms, but we will be officially married to Jesus when He comes for His bride at the rapture, which could be super soon. We will go back to celebrate with Him our 7-day/year wedding feast, and then we come back with Him for His 1,000-year millennial reign. If all of this doesn’t get us excited big time, I don’t know what will.

I hope this article has helped to not only show why God created the universe but also to show why He created us, which is to be a perfect, holy, loving bride to His Son and be joined to Him now and forever. There are simply no words to describe how truly GREAT He is, and the good news for us is that Jesus is coming SOON!

Maranatha, Lord Jesus.

David Cogburn

#crafts #art #guns #news #fall #bread #of #life #universe #create #humans #aliens #demonic #feasts #marriage #bride #groom #desire #7 #cocky #time #food #beefy #sweet #pumpkins #harvest #vids #memes

9 notes · View notes