#&& c. zero / song of the end

[aetherose]

"...Ichigo's always a pain in the ass to everyone. He's the real brat." She's watching and grumbling. And that Zana lady isn't much better-

[woofs-silly-ships]

Ahem

Spoilers below

WHAT

THE

F U C K

WAS THAT

THEY WERE ACTUALLY GOING TO MAYBE REDEEM HIM

MEGGY ACTUALLY DID SOMETHING WITH THAT, SHE DID WHAT ALL THE PUZZLES FANS HAVE BEEN WANTING TO DO

LEGITIMATELY FUCK YOU MARIO

IT HAPPENED IN ALL OF 5 SECONDS TOO

I WAS TRYING SO HARD TO PROCESS WHAG JUST HAPPENED

(Mario has gone from one of my favorites to by far my least favorite character and will never be moving back up, no matter how silly or resentful my guy is he had zero reason to do that, especially when puzzles was now friendly with the person standing RIGHT NEXT TO MARIO… that genuinely broke me beyond belief and even if Puzzles breaks out I’m still not changing Mario’s rank now /srs)

I mean I’m glad he’s not dead but still

He’s going freaking insane rotting in a freaking jail cell and it broke my heart

I still get to have my AU where the didney crap doesn’t happen and the canon storyline where my s/I starts killing everybody so yippee I guess?

Aside from that the episode and song were freaking awesome

That song went from me happily head bopping to depressed head bopping near the end LMAO

Oh and I NEED that puzzles plush and shirt grrrrrgrgrgrggrgr

I do hope that they’ll maybe give the arc some time before putting Puzzles into play again, because they clearly want to and I’m happy about that, but we need time to breathe or the fandom will implode again lmao

TLDR: not as depressing as I thought but still sad lol, good WOTFI, Western Spaghetti is still my favorite smg4 movie tho

[whatwouldsylwrite]

hockey!Abby x dancer!reader pt5

pt4

Tags: modern au, fluff, fem!reader, shy reader, reader is into sexy/girly dances, Abby is a sweetheart, switching pov

Notes: you're going on a date! feminine reader (makup, braiding, skirts and heels). Kisses (it's sappy), probably unrealistic ice-skating

-/-/-/-/-

to: Abby

what should I wear?

from: Abby

don't worry, wear what you want

I've got you covered

You smiled at your phone, kicking your legs just slightly, still fighting for your dignity. The fight you've been losing progressively: it was hard keeping your inner schoolgirl in check when Abby was being Abby. She used every free minute to spend it with you, either when she caught you in university corridors or in the centre, using every excuse she could. She’d stay late after practice until you were done (even if you were working on something new, which meant more repeating and learning than dancing, so basically: boring as fuck) so she could drive you home, she’d order you food when you were too tired to cook and she couldn’t come to your place, or give you her clothes so you wouldn’t be cold.

And fuck how she looked at you. You got shy every time you caught her just watching you as you talked. And you wanted to be close to her all the time, but outside the dance studio, the music and the act, you felt nervous. It was fun to mess with Abby that one time, but your courage started and ended with that song. Abby could just look at you with that small chuckle she always had and you blushed and looked anywhere but her - it was so overwhelming, to have her full attention on you. 

It wasn’t that you weren’t used to attention - obviously it was a part of the deal with being a dancer - but people looked at your act, at the part you played, but Abby looked at you. You felt like your heart and your thoughts and your silly daydreams were just there for her to look and judge and it was so scary, but you chose to trust her not to hurt you. 

But it was still hard to reach to her the way she did to you: you liked to play with her fingers, but you couldn't kiss her first, always waiting for her to lean down with a smile. The only thing you could do without dying of embarrassment was hugging Abby - it was something so natural for you, you've always hugged people, and even though your hands were tentative on her waist at first, your heart in your ears from nervousness, you couldn't make yourself stop.

And hugging Abby was amazing. You felt so protected when she'd put a hand around you, shielding you from everyone and everything, her voice vibrating in her chest and in your ear. She'd put her head on top of yours and kiss your hair or your forehead and you’d melt every time, not believing how safe you felt in her arms.

Abby kept her promise and asked you on a date, giving you absolutely zero information on what and where, and you felt nervous: what if you dress inappropriately for the occasion? Abby liked sports, what if she takes on a hike, and you're in heels? At first you tried to get the answer from Abby, but she refused to tell you anything. She'd just smile at your attempts, shake her head and kiss your cheek. 

You wanted to be mad at her - who gives no information about events? You were nervous because of it! You felt under-prepared! You vented about it to Ellie, who for some absolutely insane reason became your confidant. To be fair, you'd just sit and both vent about your girls, because Ellie was a loser and you were a mess ((c)Ellie) and you both fell for women who were way more competent in love than both of you were. Ellie calmed your worries down (listen, this bitch is prepared for everything, including fucking apocalypse, you'll be fine), and you decided to go with the flow, because well. You didn't have a choice. 

You still asked Abby what would be ideal to wear, but her response left you with hands untied and a fluttering heart. You looked at your ceiling, defeated by this absolute fantasy of a woman. 

Saturday rolled around quickly, and now you were standing in front of your bed and were looking through every outfit you planned. The weather was good and you really were not in the mood for jeans (you were going on a date, not to the 7/11 parking lot), and Abby liked it when you wore dresses, but-

You looked at the three-piece you put together: a white lace top, a long atlas skirt with a slit on the side that opened your whole thigh and a pair of white thin shorts. The skirt was too revealing - you move your leg or you sit? bam, everyone knows what underwear you have - so you used an old dancer trick by adding booty shorts and covering anything you wanted to cover. Technically, if Abby would take you somewhere where you'd need to move, you could just take the skirt off and be okay. Well, as okay as you could be in shorts that were basically socially acceptable underwear.

Abby promised to pick you up in an hour, and it meant you needed to hurry: you were still in your pjs, your hair just dried and half of your makeup kit was on the vanity. You picked up speed, braiding your hair in two braids that went around your head in a record time. It was a little messy, but you really didn’t have time to redo it. You put your clothes on, put your makeup on with a slightly darker red lipstick than in your first meet and just as you were looking through your shoes because where the fuck is that pair of kitten heels your phone buzzed with a notification. You left your shoe rack to check your dms.

from: Abby

I’m outside

to: Abby

will be in a sec

Fuck it, you thought as you took all shoes out on the floor and finally spotted the pair you were looking for. You put them aside and shoved everything back, promising yourself you’d deal with it later. You also put a pair of converse in the paper bag to take with you just in case, since Abby was driving and you could take something and not carry it the whole day.

Okay, you sighed in the mirror, checking everything and still feeling so emotionally unprepared your hands were shaking. You felt like you were in these bungee jumping videos and you were psyching yourself up for a jump into the abyss. Okay, you thought again and quickly left the apartment before you’d make yourself anxious. Your heels clunk in unison with your heart as you made your way outside.  

Abby was standing in front of her car in a soft looking button-up which was scandalously unbuttoned (3!!! buttons undone) and a pair of black pants, her hair braided as usual - she looked like a model, like someone you’d put on a poster to turn girls gay and make men jealous. But it wasn’t the reason why you stopped breathing and turned a bright shade of red, no. Hot girls were hot, but it rarely made you shy. 

No, what made you shy was a flower basket that Abby was holding in her hands - it had different flowers, but deep red roses stood out more than others. You wanted to scream from your feelings. Abby got you flowers in a basket, how were you supposed not to smile like an idiot in love?

You came closer to Abby, still red and smiling bashfully, wanting to put your hair behind your ears and then remembering you braided it. Abby smiled at you, watching you with the same intense gaze she usually did. 

“Hi.” You said, smiling shyly, clutching to your purse so you wouldn’t fiddle with anything. 

“Hi.” Abby gave you the flowers and took your paper bag. “This is for you.”

“Thank you, Abby.” You couldn’t stop smiling. “It’s beautiful.” You sniffed the flowers, enjoying the smell of fresh flowers. 

“Not as beautiful as you.” Abby said seriously, but then she broke and grinned, fully aware how cheesy she was. 

“God, Abby.” You laughed, but then something overtook you and you stood on your tiptoes to kiss Abby’s cheek. 

It was a quick kiss and you moved back to watch how faint blush covered Abby’s cheekbones and she stood in shock for a moment. She looked so pretty you wanted to plant more kisses on her face. 

“Do you want to put them in the back?” Abby nodded at the basket.

“What?” You asked, theatrically offended. “No, they’re coming with me.” You held the basket protectively as if someone would take them away from you. 

“Okay. I’ll help you.” 

Abby walked you around the car, opened the door for you and held flowers while you were buckling up. Then she gave them back to you and sat in the driver’s seat. You felt awkward but happy - Abby took care of you, again, and if you thought it was something you could get used to - no you couldn't, blushing and smiling every time she did something for you. 

Abby was one of those people who drove carefully, but it looked so effortless you’d usually stare at her relaxed posture and the hand on the steering wheel, but today you couldn’t take your eyes from your basket. Abby gave you flowers. Flowers that matched your lipstick, nonetheless. It was so romantic, you thought as you giggled and sniffed the flowers again. For some reason you thought no one gave flowers on dates anymore - like it was something from old black-and-white movies. To be honest, you haven’t seen a lot of people go on dates anymore, stuck between hookups and friendships. It was such a sweet, old-fashioned gesture you couldn’t stop your heart from fluttering in your rib cage like a butterfly. 

The flowers were so beautiful and you looked at them, admiring the colours and the composition, carefully holding the basket as if it was something fragile. 

Abby tried to keep her eyes on the road, but it was hard when you were sitting next to her with the cutest smile on your face while you looked at the flowers like they were something special. She figured you'd probably like flowers and even though she felt awkward about it at first - flowers were something old people did or white men in their 30s, so she didn't feel very connected to the idea, Abby decided if she wanted to continue making you feel like a lady, she needed to do it properly. Then she thought about the flowers standing in your kitchen (or, better, in your bedroom) and the fact they'd remind you of her every time you'd look at them, the awkwardness left her, replaced with the urge to google every flower shop in the area. 

Abby pulled up at the activity centre and you looked at her with a smile. 

"So, how inappropriately am I dressed for this?" You now had some ideas of what Abby had planned, and none of these ideas involved kitten heels. 

"I told you, don't worry." Abby said, teasing you. "I have everything we need."

"Are we going to dance? Did you decide to let me teach you?" You asked, teasing her back. 

Abby smiled and rolled her eyes.

"I'm unteachable, (y/n). But I figured I can teach you something."

So you were going ice-skating. Abby asked you before if you knew how to skate, and you told her no, and that you'd really like to learn, but you were scared you'd injure yourself. And Abby remembered it, and you were smiling again now, because she remembered what you wanted and she now was making it happen. 

"Oh, then I'm definitely under-dressed." You laughed as you left the car, your flowers still in your hands. 

"Okay, I get it, next time I'll give a list of what you need." Abby laughed as she took her gym bag from the trunk. "Are you going to take flowers with you?"

"I mean, it's hot outside and I don't think they will survive if I leave them in the car." You got protective again, holding your flowers closer to yourself. Abby chuckled at you.

"Okay." She said as she offered you her hand, and you quickly changed your position, holding your flowers with one hand and taking Abby's hand with another. 

You felt like a kid, like you should be jumping around and laughing at nothing, this kind of pure happiness that Abby's awoke in you. You knew you lost your battle even back at the party, but now you were sure - you were in love with this ridiculously amazing girl. 

You went inside and Abby guided you to the locker rooms, where she placed her bag just as you put your flowers down. Abby opened her bag and started taking things out. 

"We'll need to change. There's a pair of warm leggings, socks, t-shirt and a hoodie. Put all socks on, okay?" She asked, cupping your face as you nodded. I'll be on the other side."

"Why?" You asked, confused. You both were girls, there's literally nothing different about your bodies. 

"I dunno, I feel like it'll ruin the magic if I stay here. Plus, I think you like your privacy." Abby said and kissed your cheek, and then your nose, and then your lips - just a quick peck, but it left you flustered and excited. 

You nodded and waited for Abby to take a different side of lockers before you started changing - she was right, you liked your privacy, and you two weren't at that stage when you saw each other naked yet, so it actually made sense to you and your poor heart. You'd have felt so uncomfortable, knowing that Abby got to see you without clothes outside the safety of your own bed and you were thankful now. Also, you'd feel like a creep because you'd probably stare at Abby the whole time, which wasn't great either in these circumstances. 

All clothes, except for the hoodie, were your size - or, at least, they fitted you. You were smiling the whole time - Abby was so thoughtful, taking all these things with her just to make sure you got to dress up and have fun. There was even a pair of slippers for you - you guessed she didn't want to put skates on here, so you'd have to walk to the rink, and you definitely weren't doing it in your heels. You did have a pair of converse with you, but you forgot it in the car, and those slippers would come in handy. You put leggings on with two pairs of socks, usual and warm ones, and then you put Abby's hoodie on, and god you wanted to squeal. It was big on you, and it was soft and even though it smelled of detergent, not Abby, it was the hoodie she wore when you two were alone in the dance studio. You hugged yourself, definitely not kicking your feet like a kid. 

"I'm ready." You said as you approached the different side of the lockers, but not crossing the line until you were sure Abby was clothed. 

"Me too." Abby stood up with two pairs of skates and looked you over. "Fuck I like it when you wear my clothes." 

You blushed deeply, surprised by Abby's honesty.

"Are you trying to kill me or what?" You laughed.

"I'm being honest."

"You are killing me, that's what you are." You pointed a finger at her, smiling, as she laughed.

"Are you taking the flowers to the rink?" 

"It's cold there, and it's good for them." You said, strangely defensive. These flowers meant too much to you and you were sentimental. 

Abby chuckled again and you two went to the rink. It was cold there, but not cold enough to make you shiver, Abby's hoodie keeping you warm. And no one was there - not for practice, not for fun, it was only you and Abby. It was either a very lucky coincidence or Abby pulled some strings to get the place empty, you decided not to ask and not ruin the magic, as Abby said. Abby guided you to the benches where the players usually stayed during games and you put your flowers down carefully before sitting.

"Have you ever skated?" 

"Nope. I was a clumsy kid, wasn't allowed to do anything more dangerous than riding a bike." You took the skates from Abby and looked at them closely. It was a standard pair of white ice-skates that all figure skaters wore during tournaments on tv. 

"But you dance." Abby said, confused.

"And how many injuries it cost me." You smiled. "How long have you been skating for?"

"Since I was five." Abby said as she put her skates on. "First figure skating, because you know, it's for girls. Then at 12 I joined the hockey team and stayed."

"So can you teach me some spins?" You asked as you tighten your laces.

"Maybe." Abby said playfully. 

Abby stood up from her place and knelt in front of you, taking your foot in her hands. You were confused and flustered, feeling Abby's hands on your calf - it was so intimate for a reason you couldn't really explain, and then she put her other hand on your skate.

"Tell me if it hurts." Abby said as she pulled on your laces to make them tight. "Yeah, you definitely need them tighter." 

"I tried, but I'm not that strong." You mumbled, suddenly embarrassed at your failure. You knew it wasn't supposed to be loose, but it was the best you could manage.

"Good thing I'm here, then." Abby looked at you with that look while pulling on your laces and you blushed, keeping your hands to your thighs. She looked cool and hot and so fucking confident you couldn't look away, face red and mouth slightly open in admiration. "How does it feel? Is your foot wobbly?"

"No. It's fine."

"Good. Give me another." 

You changed your feet and Abby did the same thing to your other skate, tying it tight while holding your leg so gently you felt like a warm butter in her hands. 

"There you go." Abby said with affection and stood up, reaching her hand to you. "Let's go."

You stood on your feet a little bit scared of standing on blades - what if you lose your balance and break your ankles? Oh, but Abby fixed your skates so even if you fall, your ankles would be okay. 

"Thank you." You said to Abby as she walked you to the gate, holding your hand to help you keep your balance. 

"Yeah, put your hand there. You're not going to fall, I'm holding you." Abby said as she supported you while you stepped on ice.

Fuck it was slippery, your legs were no different from the legs of new-born lamb - it was so hard to keep them together and be still. You remembered the physics lesson on space vacuum, when if you push someone in space they won’t stop on their own - you felt very similarly right now. The balance was a little easier thanks to dancing - you quite naturally bent your knees to keep your core stable, just as you did in dancing. Abby was holding your waist behind you, firmly but gently, her fingers a pleasant warmness on your body. Thank God she was holding you, because she was the only reason you stayed in one place. 

“It’s okay, (y/n).” Abby said gently. “I’m going to let you go now.” Abby skated away with ease, clearly in her element and for a second you forgot about your stress, just watching her slide, mesmerised. “You already found your balance, that’s very good. Now, give me your hands and you’ll try to walk, okay?”

You nodded and one by one, gave your hands to Abby, holding onto her while she moved slowly into position when you weren’t holding the boards anymore, directly in front of her. She was a little away from you so you could lean forward to keep your balance - that was very different from dancing, because you usually leaned back or arched your back, so you were constantly reminding yourself to lean forward. 

“How do you feel?” Abby asked as the stroked your palm with her thumb, soothing you.

“Scared.” You admitted but smiled at Abby. “How do I stop?”

“You push your legs out, like you’re trying to scrape the ice with your blades.” Abby explained. “Or drag one foot behind you, but make it horizontal.” Abby showed the leg position and you nodded. “You ready?”

You nodded and Abby moved both of you, slow and gentle, while you held onto her for dear life and leaned forward. Her hands were warm and soft and she held your hands like she'd never let you go, making you all soft inside.

“You’re doing good.” Abby smiled and stopped you. “Try to march a little, okay? Get the feeling of your skates on ice.”

The marching wasn’t too hard, especially with Abby’s firm hands holding you as she moved you forward step by step. You grew more confident and tried to slide a little, feeling your balance better and your feet more stable now, and Abby moved you a little faster, but then she stopped and waited until you slid fully into her hands so she could hug you, kissing your cheek. 

“You’re amazing. Doing so well.” Abby said as she looked you in the eyes like you were the eighth wonder of the world. You clutched to her, smiling, and put your hands on her cheeks, caressing them with your thumbs.

"You're an amazing teacher."

You stood on your tiptoes (thanks for the toe pick that kept you from sliding) and moved closer to Abby, somehow brave enough to kiss her first. You pressed your lips gently to hers, moving slowly - you wanted to be so tender with this wonderful girl to show Abby how much affection and love you had for her, leaving her absolutely breathless after.

"Now teach me how to do spins."

Abby laughed quietly before kissing you again, now more deeply, more sensually while she held you in her arms. She was going to give the world, she was sure of it.

[sirenjose]

So I've been really into your analysis lately and I'm a huge fan now, wanted to ask some questions, feel free to not answer any

1- what was your favourite idv story/event to analyze?

2- your least fav of the latter?

3- are you into anything else besides idv?

4-how do you find the motivation to analyze stuff? I've tried before and it was very draining :')

Thanks for your time, hope you have a lovely day

I'm very happy to hear you're enjoying yourself despite my own low opinion about much of what I put out. I'll do my best to answer!

Hmm I always dislike picking favorites because I'm bad at picking eheh... But the ones I liked most... I honestly enjoy T&I and COA (1-5) even more than the main story. So I think I might pick... Atropos' Ropes for T&I and for COA, thats harder... 3-5 are my faves but I might pick 4 just because of how it felt it had the most story/details given than all the rest. Even the *SONG* had story. I loved it.

Least fave, eh... Orfeo and Zinaida immediately come to mind, though Orfeo I'd say was worse... COA 1 is another primarily because of how DIFFICULT it was for me to figure it out enough to put together an analysis. And I had to rewrite that thing at LEAST 3 times to the point I'm just hoping it's good enough and leaving it alone. Time of Reunion I think is another that comes to mind, mainly because I didn't appreciate how they treated Norton in there, especially in the videos (but at least those aren't canon like the in-game event was). So based on all that, I might say Orfeo if I really had to pick 1. Then rank ToR 2nd and Zinaida/COA1 3rd.

FF14 and Honkai Star Rail especially I'm playing actively these days, but I honestly like a lot of stuff. Like Persona (espeially 4), 999 aka Zero Escape, and Star Ocean Til the End of Time. Least in terms of games.

Hmm... Maybe because the 1st reason I play a game is because of the story, and gameplay is always 2nd to me. If the story and characters are good, that gets me interested. Issue with IDV is we only get bits and pieces. Really need to look deeper to really understand some of the characters. I actually only started analyzing because I challenged myself (partially out of curiosity for the answer) to see if I could prove if Norton wasn't as evil as people thought (based on all the comments I saw when I 1st joined the fandom a long while ago). From there, there was Jose who I wanted to analyze because he honestly had so many plot holes I couldn't (and still can't completely) solve. So I get the most enjoyment analyzing something that doesn't have a clear answer. Which is why I don't always post for every letter. A big part of it is I enjoy history and culture and such, so it's fun for me to learn about different foods, or time periods, or how bad the environment was for miners or sailors back in the day, etc... I dont think I have an easy answer (I can see I'm rambling). Norton I actually only began to like because I was spending so long working on my 1st analysis for him (and my perfectionism made me analyze all of Norton's essences before i could call it finished). Jose was because I love Captain Hook, and then after because of the plot holes that bothered me. Then for others, I think I enjoy making analyses to... try to sometimes change people's opinoions/beliefs. Like with Margaretha or Vera. With Edgar was because I was more interested in his story and him as a character only once I put together all his lore. Sort of goes on from there. I could ramble on but I'm going to get even more guilty. I hope this helps somewhat, but let me know if it doesn't and I'll keep going. Maybe the simple is A) I like history/culture/research, B) I like to convince people that certain characters arent as evil as they think or change beliefs I think aren't quite accurate, C) I like solving puzzles and I love story, D) I already think too hard about literally everything, and combined with my perfectionism, we get analysis

[fateandloveentwined]

poetry lines befitting MCS and XJY

These are mostly chinese tang shi and song ci poetry quotes, with a great biased amount from Su Shi because OP doesn't know better. Crude, 5-minute english translations below. There are lines I semi-made up or adapted from fandom/cpop songs (that is, most of Xiao Jingyan's lines), ngl OP is rather embarrassed of them because they aren't good at all looking back now but we'll just leave them here or else XJY would end up with zero quotes.

梅长苏 Mei Changsu

想那日束髪从军，想那日霜角辕门，想那日挟剑惊风，想那日横槊凌云。 ——夏完淳

Think to the day I tied back my hair and enlisted. Think to the day the horn rang at the frostbitten tents, think to the day I danced my sword making the sound that deafens the wind. Think to the day I took to the lance, and it pierced through the skies, rising higher than the clouds. — Xia Wanchun

将士百战身名裂。 向河梁、回头万里，故人长绝。 易水萧萧西风冷，满座衣冠似雪，正壮士、悲歌未彻。 ——辛弃疾

The warrior fights a hundred battles, yet what remains is his severed reputation. He looks to the bridge over the river, thousands of miles back, past acquaintances forever gone. In another life, over the howling of the west wind and the cold Yi rivers, the banquet sits, clothes adorned in snowlike white. The courageous man strides through the blizzard, the song of lament never ceasing. — Xin Qiji

零落成泥碾作尘，只有香如故。 ——陆游

The plum blossoms wither and drift to the ground, crushed into earthly soil and dust. The prevailing fragrance is what remains. — Lu You

亦余心之所善兮，虽九死其犹未悔。 ——屈原

So long as this is what my heart longs for and treasures, though I die nine deaths, my heart does not regret. — Qu Yuan

君臣一梦，今古空名。 ——苏轼

Lords and lieges ebb into nothing but a dream; in the river of time transcending present and past vain titles remain, cast into the void. — Su Shi

无波真古井，有节是秋筠。 ——苏轼

The heart is at peace like the ancient well that does not ripple; the integrity is as the autumn bamboos, steadfast and unfaltering. — Su Shi

舳舻千里，旌旗蔽空，酾酒临江，横槊赋诗。 ——苏轼

The warship moves a thousand miles, ensigns enshrouding the sky. He pours out wine by the riverside, holds out his lance, and writes verses as he speaks. — Su Shi

对一张琴，一壶酒，一溪云。 ——苏轼

Facing but a guqin, a jug of wine, a stream of cloud. — Su Shi

江山如画，是我心言。 ——风起时

The rivers and mountains of the kingdom outstretches before me, as moving as in art: this is my heart’s will. — from the song “Feng Qi Shi”, when the wind blows

战骨碎尽志不休，冰心未改血犹殷。 ——改自《赤血长殷》、王昌龄

Bones completely crushed from the battle, yet aspirations unwavering. The heart has not changed; the blood flows red still. — adapted from the song “Chi Xue Chang Yan”, the noble blood flows red, and poet Wang Changling

袖手妙计权倾变，敛眸笑谈意了然。 ——改自《赤血长殷》

With folded arms, he devises labyrinthine strategies. The sceptre of power sways and shifts. He shrouds his gaze modestly, and in conversations of small smiles, he discerns the intention of men. — adapted from the song “Chi Xue Chang Yan”, the noble blood flows red

萧㬌琰 Xiao Jingyan

潜龙一朝御风翔，长歌挽弓射天狼。 ——《长喑》

The submerged dragon rises one day to ride the winds. Singing high and long; the bow is drawn pointed at the invading Sirius. — from the song “Chang Yin”, the Long Darkness found here

挑灯殿阙思悄然，闻钤行宫寝无眠。 ——改自白居易

Awashed in the raised lamps of the imperial palace, thoughts whisper in grievance. The bell rings at the Jiu’an grounds, and he lies abed sleepless. — adapted from The Song of Everlasting Sorrow by Bai Juyi

驰骋沙场繁华梦，谈笑鸿儒君臣纲。 ——改自《致陛下书》、刘禹锡

Dreams soar in the flurrying gallops of the battlefield, flourishing dreams of splendour and joy. In pleasant dialogue with scholars, civility obliges polite smiles into the etiquette of lords and lieges. — adapted from the song “Zhi Bi Xia Shu”, a letter to Your Majesty, and Liu Yuxi

铁马并辔封疆，几回魂梦游；更鼓落夜未央，笔下兴亡断。 ——取自《长喑》、《赤血长殷》

Armoured horses riding in parallel at the borderlands — how many times has the soul wandered to such dreams of the past. The hourly drums sound ceaseless across the long night; under the emperor's brush, the fate of prosperity and declination writes. — adapted from the song “Chang Yin”, the Long Darkness found here, and “Chi Xue Chang Yan”, the noble blood flows red

揽尽山河只手倾，昂冕袖手瞰苍生。 ——改自《长喑》

The future of his kingdom sweeps into a tilt of his hand. With crown upheld, he folds his arms in his sleeves awatching humanity. — adapted from the song “Chang Yin”, the Long Darkness found here

咫尺抚眉峰，万丈叠远峰；梦底枕笑纹，惊风掀水纹。 ——《致陛下书》

Up close, the furrowed brows are smoothed. Ten thousands of feet stretch before him, converging into mountains at a distance. In the deepest dreams, the markings of a smile lie; he stirs up the wind which marks and rips tides in the tumultuous waters. — adapted from the song “Zhi Bi Xia Shu”, a letter to Your Majesty

Two (three) things to note:

My dying obsession with Su Shi, sorry I can’t help it that perhaps over half of the all the poetry I know is from him;

To be really fair, my favourite description of Mei Changsu is 运筹帷幄之中，决胜千里之外, used in describing Zhang Liang in Si Maqian's Records of the Grand Historian. He orchestrates masterplans in the tent of the army; he determines the victory of the battle from afar, thousands of miles from the front.

As for my favourite depiction of Lin Shu, it is definitely Su Shi’s description of Cao Cao: 舳舻千里，旌旗蔽空，酾酒临江，横槊赋诗。 The warship moves a thousand miles, ensigns enshrouding the sky. He pours out wine by the riverside, holds out his lance, and writes verses as he speaks. Xin Qiji’s verse above just fits the entire story of Mei Changsu so much, it deserves a mention.

I was assembling/making these lines up for something back then and so just listed whatever came to mind (for reasons I know not I kept on listing stuff for MCS, but maybe XJY was the typical good emperor kind of person so wasn't as inspiring coming up with quotes for him).

If there are lines of poetry you find really befitting the two characters, we're more than interested starting a thread here just for that purpose.

[shiicheol]

silent converstions ~ 2

‣ pairing: jeon wonwoo x oc 

‣ summary: Maxine found comfort in regularly sending messages to the number of her deceased ex, seeing no harm in it—until she received a response from a persistent stranger named Wonwoo. What are the chances of forming a connection with this unexpected stranger? How will their story unfold?

‣ genre: strangers to lovers. angst.

‣ chapters:

one

‣ disclaimer: The ideas and personalities depicted in this Alternate Universe (AU) do not reflect the actual views or characteristics of the artists. Their names are used purely as placeholders. Please remember that these stories are fictional and do not represent reality. Thank you!

NOTE: Text messages are in italics, while non-italicized text represents thoughts and narration

Wonwoo's POV

Texting Stranger

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry for being a bother. I'm sorry because you have to put up with a stranger persistent enough to message a person who is no longer here.

What life do you live that makes it feel like you should apologize for grieving?

Texting Stranger

Please, don't respond anymore. You will never hear from me again. Thank you for your time.

There's so much I want to say but in respect to you, I will hold back.

No messages from you? I said to myself, as I observed the lockscreen of my device.

I'll assume that you're in the process of moving on. I hope you're doing well wherever and whoever you may be. 

However, as if one cue, the name of the Unknown sender had flashed on my screen again.

Texting Stranger

Hi, love. I told myself that I'll stop messaging you but here I am with a bottle of alcohol and a million emotions running through my heart.

I remember you used to commend me for having exceptionally good typing skills despite being drunk. It once used to be a memory I hold dear to my heart but now the thought of it wrecks me in unimaginable ways.

I was fine. I've been fine. Or maybe I thought I was.

How can I ever be fine, right? How is it possible for me to move on? You've managed to move on but why can't I do the same?

Fuck.

I'm rambling again, aren't I? I remember every time I would be in talkative mode, you would interrupt me and it would lead to an argument. Believe it or not, I miss it so much.

Please, love, stop me from rambling again. I promise I won't get mad at you. Just, please.

I don't know you personally but why do I feel your pain? 

Texting Stranger

Can I call? Please?

Her message had been surprising, yet my response was beyond me. The next thing I knew, I was waiting for the call, not hesitating to click the answer button, as if the panic i had felt previously had been abandoned.

As soon as I picked up the phone, a sense of regret flashed through me as I was met with mere silence at the end of the line.

I thought that maybe she had fallen asleep.

Seconds passed. 

Minutes passed.

Nothing.

I released a breath of relief I didn't know I was holding upon realizing the possibility of her being in a drunken state.

"Hmmm," I heard a soft groan from my device just as I was about to click the end button.

I looked at it with wide eyes, waiting for her to speak again.

"Love... I miss you, love," the voice slurred out.

"P-please, come back," said the soft voice again.

I couldn't seem to do anything but listen.

That was until I heard a whimper.

"Shhhhh," I tried soothing her.

What could I do, right? What can I say?

For a time, it became a cycle. She would repeat words such as "Love." "I miss you." "Please, come back." Then I would try to calm her down.

Until she asked a question that caught me off guard.

"C-can you please sing me a song like before?" She said with a voice that showed zero signs of sobriety.

Me? Sing? That was something kept private between me and the confines of my own space.

"Please."

But declining would be too selfish when I know the state she was already in.

I sigh.

With no second thought, I started humming a lullaby.

"I can't hear you." she slurred.

With another sigh, I made my voice louder but not too much for it to disturb next-door neighbors.

Just when I was about to finish singing the 3rd song, I heard silent snores from the other end of the line.

I released another breath of relief I realize I was holding.

I looked at the clock and it read, 4:30 am.

We've been on call for 2 hours.

I considered ending the call but it didn't feel right. I thought of staying the entire time but it didn't feel right either.

So after much contemplation, I decided to wait 20 minutes before hanging up.

That way, I'll know that she's in the middle of her deep sleep.

As I waited for time to pass by, I wondered why I was doing this in the first place.

I'm not one to do favors for others.

I'm not one to do phone calls late at night.

I'm not one to sing a song.

I'm not one to empathize.

But why?

I would say out of pity but is it really?

If it was simply out of pity, I would feel nothing but sorry for her.

So, why?

Why do I care so much?

Why do I feel the need to be there for her?

Why do I want her to feel happy?

Why does it hurt when I hear her cry even though I don't know who she is?

Why?

Why do I see myself in her?

[silver-starss]

Ahsoka finale thoughts

Holy shit

Morgan's upgrade was pretty cool ngl

Kanan convo! Giving him the respect he deserves.

Loving Ezra's new lightsaber! I always preferred his blue look, since it keeps in theme with him being a blueberry c:

Not sure how I feel about Sabine using the Force like this. Sensing stuff, I'm fine with, but suddenly she's 100% able to use telekinesis?

Morgan's rematch with Ahsoka is leagues better than their first fight back in Mando

Ahsoka is canonically a ronin :)

Ahsoka is canonically stranded in another galaxy :(

Welp. It happened. People were left behind.

What was that ending with Shin? Is she taking over the raiders? Is she seeking out fights because she's alone?

HOLY SHIT MORTIS GODS

And here I laughed at Mortis related Ahsoka theories. Shows how little I know. Maybe those Abeloth theorizers were onto something...

I love how this shot has absolutely zero significance to casual fans but is utterly game-changing for those who watched the shows

Am I tripping or is the Daughter missing from the statues?

It's a shame that Baylan's arc ended on not only a cliffhanger. Though the writers couldn't have anticipated real life tragedies.

EZRA AND HERA REUNION!!!

NO HUG???????

ANAKIN!! In full Jedi robes like ROTJ!!!

Ahsoka's smile at the end. She knows he's watching over her <3

WHERE THE SUN SAILS AND MOON WALKS MY BELOVED/BELOATHED. SUCH A GOOD SONG BUT HOLY FUCK THE ASSOCIATIONS

Between Morai and Anakin, Ahsoka's got one heck of a guardian posse. And she seemed awfully confident that she and Sabine have some sort of purpose here. I wonder what's in store for her, because I have a feeling that she won't stay stranded forever (even if it explains her absence in the sequels)

I'm not sure if this cliffhanger is meant for Dave Filoni's movie or a potential season 2, but I want more and I know I'm not getting more anytime soon and it's making me sad :(

I can't deal with these feelings oml

[littlemissmanga]

Maybe Among the Stars

Pairing: Broadside x (gn)Reader

W/C: 2,737

Summary: Broadside was literally built to withstand risk and danger. He’s willing to take the chance this will all end badly. But that was back when the only one at risk was him. How can he face that same danger knowing it’ll roll over onto you now?

Warnings: Angst/comfort, the realities of loving a soldier, slight nod to intimacy but think like PG-13 rating. Lots of longing, but it's got a happy ending.

A/N: Goodness, I had this drafted out so long ago but real life and brain pain made this take forever. I’m terribly sorry @sunshinesdaydream for the slight delay, but here is your Broadside fic for the @rare-clone-fic-exchange! I had a lot of fun researching Broadside, Shadow Squadron, their planes and getting to dive into a starfighter’s mentality. I hope you like what I did with his personality since there isn’t too much in canon to go off of, other than his limited screen time showed me a very confident man. And what’s better than a fic about a man in crisis with himself?

Also, submitting this as an entrance for my @clonexreaderbingo card, the “Hope” square. 😊

Inspiration song, The Word of My Body from Spring Awakening: “Oh, I’m gonna bruise you. Oh, you’re gonna be my bruise.”

dividers by @saradika

It wasn’t fair. To either of you, but he understood the risk and was willing to face it. He knew what could come next and didn’t care if it meant one more chance.

But you …

You put up a great front. It took him too many rotations to see the softness under your steel. Weeks of finding reasons to fuel up at the café you worked at before he was shipped off just to tease you and get under your skin. It was a challenge that gave him a little lightness to his step before he and his brothers were back in the heat of battle, the memory of a cheeky smile on pretty lips settling his battle-tossed nerves.

Eventually, the face behind the smile was the thought that gave him comfort. But he’d never say it. He could keep you at an arm’s length and still get his fix as long as he didn’t cross that line.

And you never backed down from this game you couldn’t have known you were playing, giving as good as you got but never with cruelty. Your responses had even gotten downright flirtatious recently, a taste of normal that he couldn’t resist.

Until the last time.

Right after the Battle of Coruscant. Broadside had been flying high even with his feet solidly on the ground. Shadow Squadron had taken impressively minimal damage as each trooper flew beside General Skywalker bravely and proved integral to the safe retrieval of the Chancellor.

He’d opened the door to your café with a swagger that would make even his General blush, ready to leverage his status as planetary savior for a free slice of meilroon pie.

But instead of the sweetness he was expecting, the salt of your tears was all he could taste for hours after. The relief couldn’t erase the deep worry lines on your face at the sight of him, and while Broadside wasn’t above imagining what you’d feel like in his arms, the reality of your half-choked sobs racking your form as it melded to his when you pushed into him and held him like he would float away weighed on his heart.

“They were showing the dogfights over the holonet. I saw … there were so many … I didn’t know if …”

The realization hit him like a proton canon blast: He had become someone important to you. You felt the same way about him as he did you.

And ever since, elation and dread warred within him.

Since the Battle of Coruscant, Shadow Squadron had been requested to handle more escort missions for the Chancellor, meaning more time on Triple Zero.

More time with you.

But proximity to the Chancellor and by extension the Corrie Guard meant no room for deviation from the regs … including the one about not fraternizing with spunky natborns who’d be brought to tears at the thought of a trooper in danger.

A specific trooper. Him.

A gorgeous soul who kept him on his toes, challenging every truth he thought he knew. Who’d started saving a serving of his favorite meals when they were on special without knowing if he’d be coming in that day. Who’d throw an extra serving in for a customer going through a bad day but feigned ignorance when questioned. Who fought off the thugs and lowlifes that’d crawl in from the lower levels with a broken broom without an ounce of fear but shattered at the sight of his Squadron in danger overhead.

He was going to hurt you.

Maybe, just a little, he understood why the Jedi didn’t allow attachments. Because more and more, Broadside could feel the craving to see you again rise and overshadow the knowledge of just how thoroughly he’ll ruin you.

***

“Is this where you’re gonna murder me?”

Broadside threw an exasperated look over his shoulder. “Why would I drag you all the way here just to murder you?”

You cocked an eyebrow as your head swiveled to take in the narrow, at to be fair rather dingy, ally he was leading you through. “To throw the cops of your trail, duh. It’s like you don’t even listen to those crime holos I send you.”

He heard the smile in your voice and felt its match stretch on his own lips at your macabre humor.

“Those are all full of fluff anyway. It’s all nonsense.”

“No, they’re-”

“Shush.” He turned back and continued leading you on. “We’re almost there.”

“Would be great to know where ‘there’ is. Or what’s gonna happen there.”

Despite your grumbling, Broadside could feel your grip tighten around his hand. All at once, your simple show of trust filled his chest and brought him to his knees.

He didn’t deserve it. But he hoped he’d earn it.

Reaching a nondescript door ­— one of many to line the ally — Broadside stopped in the entranceway, pulling you over to face him.

“You already know the answer, mesh’la. You came up with this idea.”

Confusion covered your face with an aching cuteness. He could see the wheels turning inside, your eyes giving everything away as you searched for an answer.

“Closing time ... I was helping you sweep ... You asked what civvie experience I wanted to have …”

Your eyes sharpened in a playful glare. “And you said, ‘working in a diner’ just to be an ass.”

He leaned in close, towering over you and invading your space just to rile you more. He couldn’t help it. Broadside was addicted to that spark and needed it, needed you, like a hit of spice. “Not just to be an ass. But that’s not the important part. What came next?”

“You … You asked me what I’d want to do …”

Your eyes were wide as moons when you looked back up at him, disbelief filling every inch of your expression. “No …”

“Yup.” He confirmed, entering the access code and opening the door to reveal the back entrance to the hanger where Shadow Squadrons brand-new Y-wings were lined up all nice and pretty.

This time, he didn’t take your hand. Broadside strode through the hanger like he owned it, confidence grounding every step and growing at the sound of your quick footsteps franticly trying to keep up with his.

“Broadside!” You hissed quietly, earning a rich laugh at your idea of stealth. “This can’t be allowed. We’re gonna get caught!”

He stopped next to his new ship, ladder at its side at the ready. “You know, I’m actually insulted. You think I haven’t thought this through.” Turning, Broadside gestures broadly at the hanger. “See? No one around. Maintenance has been reassigned and my squad is grounded right now.”

Your eyes followed his across the cavernous room and you nodded in agreement. But your lip was still caught between your teeth, a telltale sign.

Letting the levity slip away, Broadside brought his hands up to cup your face and pull your gaze to his. Once again, he invaded your space but this time, all teasing was gone. “No one will know we’re here. I’ve got you.”

You gave him that look again. The same one as that day, the one that screamed to him just how unsure you really were underneath all your strength and bluster. The one that broke his heart with how much he wanted to erase it from your face. The same one that told him, just maybe, that you knew how tenuous this all really was.

And then you stepped closer.  

You turned to reach for the ladder, stopping to look at him one more time. He gave you an affirmative nod, fighting every cell that cried out to shatter in relief. Maybe this would go better for you both than he thought.

Following closely, he climbed up the ladder after you, settling behind you in the cockpit.

It was a tight fit, only being designed for one person at a time. Broadside struggled for a moment, trying to get his legs to fit around yours in the narrow space until you took matters into your own hands. A touch was all it took to get him to sit still, your hand holding down firmly on his thigh.

The look you sent him over your shoulder is so soft, Broadside wanted to preserve it somehow. To freeze time so you’d always look at him just like that. To make a galaxy where you’d have no reason to ever look at him any other way.

“May I?” Your voice was steady, but barely a whisper.

“Yeah,” he rasped back.

Lifting yourself up, you moved your legs to straddle his before resting yourself on his lap.

“Sorry, but I think this may be the most comfortable configuration.”

Broadside reached around you to start the operating procedures, reveling in the feel of you so close. It was a mockery of an embrace, but it was enough for now.

“No need to apologize, angel. We’re all good here.”

Once all systems were engaged and optimized, he pressed his comm. “Shadow One to Tower. All systems go, here. Ready for clearance.”

You spun in your seat to level him with an intense glare. “No one will know we’re here?”

And Broadside couldn’t resist stoking your fire, sticking out his tongue like a cadet just to revel in how riled you got. “No one who will say anything. Corkscrew is on tower watch tonight and he owes me a favor or three.”

“Tower to Shadow One. Request for test flight confirmed. You are clear for launch. You have 30 minutes.”

“See? Just a standard test flight for the new fighters,” he said smugly.

With that, Broadside went through the launch procedure without a second thought, focusing instead on every way you shifted on his lap, how your hands fumbled for purchase on the sides of the ship before gripping hard on his knees. His hand curled around your hip, holding you in place for all the good it did. The turbulence had you shaking against him and by the Maker if that friction wasn’t the most sensational thing in the entire galaxy.

But everything settled when they broke the atmosphere, the stillness and quiet covering them and isolating them from the chaos of the city planet below.

He watched with delight as your head moved on a swivel, turning back and forth to take in the vast array of stars in front of you.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathed.

“Yeah, it is.” Broadside’s response was just as quiet as he took in your awe before adding louder, “But we didn’t come up here just to look at it.”

“No?”

Before you could do anything else, he grabbed your hands. Without asking, he brought them to the steering column, molding his over yours.  “No. You’re gonna fly.”

He could see the broad, devious grin overtake your face in the reflection of the transparisteel and for the briefest moment, Broadside second-guessed whether this was a good idea.

Worry quickly gave way as he lost himself fully in the joy you exuded. Playful cheers filled the small Y-wing cockpit as he instructed you through a few of his simpler maneuvers. Eventually, he began taking a bit more control, showing off with several rolls and drops all in hopes of earning just one more delightful shout, one more squeeze of your thighs around his. All while his hand kept you in place on his lap.

Leveling out after his latest round of showing off, you leaned back against him fully, losing all tension in your body to rest soundly against his chest.

“So, what brought this on?”

His pause is palpable, creating a stillness that could rival space itself. He knew it would happen eventually. But he hated that it could ruin everything.

“I … I don’t know when I’ll be able to visit you next.”

His eyes were trained onto every inch of your body, so he saw the moment your shoulders tensed.

“I see. Even though I know Shadow Squadron has been assigned to escort the Chancellor from now on.”

Broadside took a breath, preparing for his practiced spiel, but you wouldn’t give him the chance. “Oh, yes. Don’t think I don’t follow the news. I do. Of course I do, because how else would I know where you were, what you were doing, if you were okay. You don’t tell me these things when you visit. I have to piece together rumors and suspicions. So I know you’ll be around more. But sure, tell me the lie. Tell me you won’t be able to see me. I’ve been dumb enough flirt with you. To start feeling …”

Your voice tapered off. He couldn’t see your reflection anymore, your face cast downward, but he could see how tightly you were holding yourself.

“Maybe I’ll be dumb enough to believe the lie,” you whispered.

He reached forward, snaking his other arm around to encircle your waist and pull you impossibly closer. Like a child clutching a soft toy, he curled around you in the cocoon of the cockpit.

It must have hurt. His armor was hard and unyielding. He could imagine all the ways it dug in to your pliant skin, how your curves arched around its firm plains.

Even his embrace was painful to you.

And yet you didn’t fight. You didn’t pull away or even adjust yourself. No, you pushed yourself closer, folding yourself in to fit into him like a missing piece.

“It’s not a lie,” he whispered, hoping for all the galaxy that you heard his promise. “It’s not safe.”

“For who?”

“For both of us.”

The silence lingered, and he knew you understood. If you really had been following the war, if you’ve been slicing through the holonet for information, then you had known the truth of his words for a while.

Shifting your hips, you turned in his hold, folding your legs under you to sit sideways on his lap. You didn’t look at him, though. Instead, you tucked your head under his chin, staying as close as possible. “Is that why you brought me up here? Show me the stars so I have something pretty to look at when you tell me it’s over?”

His grip tightened. “No.”

“Then why?”

He brought his hand up to cup the back of your head. He needed you as close as possible. “Because I can’t say it’s over. I want to. But I can’t. I will knowingly put you in danger just to see you again, to hear you again.”

He pressed his lips to the crown of your head. His first kiss has the aftertaste of salt and bitterness, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

“Bringing you to see the stars like you always wanted is the least I can do. I’ll give you anything within my power ’cause I’m taking so much more.”

You wriggled in his grasp, pulling away just enough to look him in the eye. Your cheeks were stained with tears he didn’t even hear begin to fall. Instinctively, he brought his thumb to swipe it away, but your hand stopped him.

“You’re not taking anything, dumbass. I’m giving it willingly.”

Broadside’s eyes close as relief surged through his body. He relaxed even more at the feel of your forehead pressed against his.

“I don’t care about the danger. And take as much time as you need to make things as safe as possible. But you’re not the only one who can’t call quits, so don’t act like you’re carrying the burden alone.”

He couldn’t help the smile that spread easy as sin across his lips at your declaration. Knowing that you were as far gone as he was. Now that he had your knowing consent, that you could handle all that came with being together, there was nothing holding him back.

“So, I don’t have to plan such extravagant dates?”

You let out a peel of laughter in response, your delight breaking the last remnant of grief. “Oh, you absolutely have to try and top this next time. I’ll accept nothing less.”

Fueled by hope and the fire of his wanting, Broadside pressed his lips to yours, tasting starlight and a hint of the blumfruit juice you had earlier.

“I’ve created a monster,” he murmured into the kiss.

“Indeed, you have.”

Your smile against his lips is all the reassurance he needed to not care.

You can find the rest of my fics on my Masterlist here. And you can sign up for my taglist to be alerted to any new fics here.

[salixsociety]

Salmon Song

On fishing, undeath, and gratitude.

Since our wedding recently, my spouse and I have been house-sitting for an old acquaintance of theirs. Not counting the dachshund befittingly named Chili Dog, the most beautiful thing about this house is the creek flowing through the backyard, which I sit next to as I write.

Being a branch of a bigger river on Alaska's Kenai Peninsula, countless salmon make their way upstream every year, to spawn and to die. Some, only a year old, some almost ten. They are king salmon, in these waters. Easy to recognize: they lack the characteristic hump of a sockeye, and their bright red back is spangled with small black dots. Every time one swims past I am unable to look away, too mystified to even take a picture. Right there, in front of me, barely concealed by the monkshood, geranium and fireweed, is a fish willing to sacrifice anything to swim into death. To twist and turn to make their way through shallow waters. To agonizingly fight for seconds, sometimes minutes without air, to climb rocky rapids. To rot, to be the living dead, on their way to spawn children that may never reach the sea.

Alaskan summers pass by in a flash, but in exchange for eight to nine months of harsh winter, summer appeases us with many gifts. Fish being one of them. Last week my Dove, their brothers, mother, my sister and I went dipnetting. Being short many pairs of waders, it was mostly me and my spouse doing the fishing. We do it in the tidal delta of one of the biggest rivers around, where the fish enter the river from the inlet. It is important that you go as the tide is changing, to fish in accordance with the pattern of the salmon. When the tide is going out, you catch the fish that are falling back with the stream, having been exhausted by their fight up and taking a moment to rest, and the fish that are actively swimming to the ocean. Then, when the tide is at its lowest, for a while it won't change. We call this slack tide, and the odds of catching salmon are near zero. You may, as we did, accidentally catch a flounder or a sole in your net instead. Then, when the tide finally comes in again, just as you think you ought to call it a day... they come again. One after the other, in such rapid succession that you can barely finish killing and storing the first before another one is thrown on land. In the end, we caught twenty-four sockeye, and one big sole.

We decided to keep a large sole out of curiosity, mostly. They are legal, and large for a river flatfish. Though not as famous as salmon, soles and flounder are fascinating creatures, like any in midgard. Their eyes are both on one side of their body; which side depends on the species of flatfish. They aren't born this way, in most cases. Many flatfish are born symmetrical, and only start experiencing an 'eye migration' in adolescence, when they move to the seafloor. Some, like the sole we caught, are masters at the art of camouflage: their bodies are the color of the marine floor they lay on, and their skins are textured like sandpaper, to catch bits of sand and blend in even better. Some, though to my knowledge none in Alaska, can even change the color of their skin to match their environment. Not all flatfish are bottomfeeders, but soles are, eating mostly invertebrates. They are a healthy fish to eat, in some cultures even a delicacy! But not the preferred fish in Alaska, as their meat is not fatty, and even a big sole doesn't yield much meat.

When I first moved to Alaska and started learning how to fish, the prospect of killing the fish I caught made me nervous. I didn't know if I could do it, and I didn't want to let my spouse down, nor did I want to condemn a fish to suffering. I don't like to fish for sport, I think it cruel, so letting a good fish go was never an option. I pushed through, and tried, only to discover that my arthritis ridden fingers are not strong enough to pull out a fish's gills effectively - even the little grayling I had caught. Ironic. Since then I have delegated the killing part to my spouse, but I was relieved. I can do it. And somehow, it doesn't hurt.

Having gotten much closer to my goal of living off the land now, I have learned a lot about killing, and made my peace with it. Mostly I have learned that taking a life is not inherently immoral. Just as I do not hate a moose for trying to trample me in self defense, and I would not hate a bear for eating me, this salmon, not yet in its spawning colors, does not hate me for my need for sustenance. Just as I do not hate the eagle that swooped onto and killed the little gosling with a skin disease that I had been diligently nursing, she did not hate it, as she would not have hated me when I would inevitably kill her out of mercy, and eat her out of respect. My respect for life is in my willingness to take it, because such is my place in nature. I contribute much more to my environment, and spare many more lives, when I kill twenty-four salmon with my own hands, process them with my own knives, store them in my own freezer. When I kill out of mercy, or out of need for sustenance; when I kill with respect, I am one step closer to living off the land, and one step closer to protecting balance in my environment. One step closer to true, complete, utter connection.

The salmon has long been known to be a fish harboring much magic. A favorite example is of course the fact that Loki transformed into a salmon to escape the wrath of the gods, only able to be caught with a magical net. It is said that the narrow back of a salmon, likely especially on a sockeye or 'humpy', was because of Thor's strong grip on the fish when he was finally caught. There are of course also the necessary saint stories, especially in Scotland, where the fish is regarded as very faery. Associated with wells of wisdom, the ability to tell the future, and even astoundingly old age, such as in the tale of Culhwch and Olwen. Salmon was also renowned for its strength, Irish heroes sometimes being described as 'leaping like a salmon', and in other Celtic myth we see salmon somehow managing to give people rides on their backs. The word 'salmon' reportedly even comes from Latin 'salire': to leap. Most amazingly to me, however, is their process of natural undeath, as my Dove so aptly put it. The way salmon cease to eat and start to rot even on their way to their spawning grounds inspired much awe and lore in ancient societies. These fish, in Alaska affectionately called 'zombie fish', are no longer edible, but they give us many stories instead. Most importantly to me, their living death was often interpreted as the salmon swimming, on their own, into the underworld, before our very eyes.

One book that has been on my TBR since it was referenced by Robin Wall Kimmerer in Gathering Moss, is Totem Salmon by Freeman House. In it, House talks about mentally dissecting the sound of a stream. Doing so has inspired me greatly, partially also to write this blog. There truly is a symphony of sounds concealed in the babbling of a creek. I hear the water rushing over the rocks that form the beaches and rapids. I hear it slosh as it hits the log in the westward bend. I hear it plop periodically as it moves around one particularly large boulder and every now and again, the striking and emotive arpeggios that are the splashing of salmon fins as they make their way up.

When I started writing this story, a beautiful king salmon appeared before the spot I'm sitting at, fighting its way upstream. Many times as I progressed through my story did it fall back with the flow of the water before my eyes, only to reappear. Easily recognizable, with its already rotting tail and dorsal fin. Shortly before I started this conclusion, I heard and saw it climbing up the shallow narrows and disappear around the bend.

May you swim safely there, and safely back. Rest in peace.

[aetherose]

Where should you be kissed?

knuckles

it feels as though you have fought every day of your life. sometimes, you cannot even tell how much of the blood on your hands is your own… and how much comes from those who've tried to hurt those you defend. you deserve the gentleness of a kiss to your bruised knuckles and broken skin, a reminder that you are not only made of violence.

Tagged By: Nabbed from @knaveofhearth Tagging: Whoever wants to do this!

[mikrokcsmos]

Saw your requests were open and wanted to know if you could write something about Jimin? Kinda angsty (since that’s your fav) but if possible have a fluffy ending? Love your writing and so glad that you’re back! Thank you if you choose to do this!

Here you go, bestie <3 & thank you for taking my fav genre into consideration when requesting! xo

Safe and Sound

synopsis; in which the words ‘sleep’ and ‘rest’ don’t exist in your boyfriend’s vocabulary — so it’s up to you to enforce them, lovingly, of course.

pairing; idol!Jimin x female!reader

genre; angst, fluff, comfort, idol au

rating; PG-13

warnings; angst in the form of jiminie overworking himself, and reader being worried so much, this was supposed to be a lil drabble over consoling Jimin but it ends up being more reader centered lmao oops 😬

w/c; 1,283

song to listen to; lift me up by rihanna

a/n; thank you for entrusting me with bringing your idea to life, I only hope I did it justice. <3

All you could hear was the sound of your breathing and the soles of your shoes as they hit the freshly mopped flooring of the HYBE training facility. The hallway was long, and the bright fluorescent lighting above you were the only thing keeping your still half asleep form even mildly awake. Well, that, and worry.

He still wasn’t back home.

The time on your phone read 3:31am, and showed no new notifications from your boyfriend. You reread the last string of text messages you sent him, which was hours ago, and technically yesterday.

Hey! Just a friendly reminder to stay hydrated!

Hope practice is going well, but don’t forget to take breaks when needed!

Baaaaaby, haven’t heard from you in awhile and you said you would be home around this time. Thinking of having a late night after all?

Jimin, I’m really starting to worry. Please, just let me know you’re okay at least?

Jimin?

I’m on my way.

Locking your phone, you push your feet to walk faster when you see the sign of the dance studio him and the boys usually use. Upon getting closer, you notice the light shining through the crack underneath the door, hear the muffled sounds of music coming from inside.

Your hand curls around the door handle, and you push down gently. You don’t know why, but you felt as if you should tread with caution upon entering. The door makes a slight ‘woosh’ sound as it glides swiftly across the sleek, hardwood flooring that’s now underneath your feet, and your body immediately shivers from the blast of cool air that hits your entire body due to the A/C being on full blast constantly within the practice rooms.

The first sight that greets you has your body deflating instantly with relief, only to be turned into slight panic when your boyfriend doesn’t respond to his name being called, his lithe figure leaning sideways against the full wall to wall mirrors, back towards you.

Your shoes squeak as you sprint ungracefully towards his unresponsive self. And you have to stop yourself from slamming into your panic stricken mirrored reflection by using the flat of your palms against the cool to the touch glass to stop your momentum. The force in which you stop makes the glass shake as your eyes finally land on his, that are only just now slowly opening from the vibration against his head your act caused.

In a bleary haze, his eyes adjust to the bright light first, watching your lips as they move fast – so fast in fact it makes a confused expression appear across his face. His ears pick up the faint music of the song he’s been rehearsing choreo all day for, but then ultimately zeroes in on the same word that’s been leaving your mouth for the past few seconds.

“Jimin, jimin, jimin—,”

It’s not until a warm hand encompasses his cheek, along with an equally as warm body smashing into his chest, your arm wrapping around his middle with a vice grip, your nails digging into the flesh of his back that has him letting out a slight grunt. When he straightens himself back up, his arms envelope your shaking form. Your breaths are short, fast, and he has to pull away from you in order to see the tears that threaten to spill over your waterline, pooling dangerously at the edge.

His big hands grip your face gently, brows pinched in worry at your distressed state. Due to his brain still waking up, he assumes only worst case scenarios as he asks.

“Y/N? Baby? What’s wrong? Why are you here? Did something bad happen? Are you okay? Are the boys—”

It’s ironic, really. How you initially came here to be the one comforting him and now he’s the one doing the comforting for you.

“You never came home.” Your voice floods with emotion that washes over him, creating a pool of guilt around him as his focus zeroes in on the large clock that overhangs above the doorway of the room.

You can see his face morph through stages of confusion, shock, sadness — and finally guilt as he looks at the clock, it being cemented further when he fishes his phone out of his back pocket and sees his phone blown up with countless notifications from you that he failed to read when he seemingly passed out while standing up.

That was a first for him.

His thumbs brush away the few tears that managed to fall, but he notices that your breathing has gradually returned to normal again the longer you stood there looking at him.

“I’m so sorry, I never meant to worry you. I must’ve fallen asleep.”

“While standing up, Jimin?” Your hands grip at the sides of his shirt, and the warmth you feel emanating from his body soothes you, let’s you know that he’s real, that he’s there, that he’s safe.

“Yeah, I know. Not good. Definitely going to have a kink in my neck and shoulder for the next few days from that position. Maybe even worse than those times you made my arm fall asleep from you passing out on me!” He tries to ease the mood, the tension of the room with a joke. Even going so far as to give you one of his dazzling smiles that has his eyes squinting at you, a hesitant chuckle floating up from the depths of his chest.

You manage to crack a small smile, the edge of your lip curving reluctantly. No matter how upset, or how worried you are, he never fails to make things better, make things right.

And he wasn’t about to stop now. But as much as you’re relieved, you need to drop some tough love on him.

“Jimin, we’ve talked about this, love. You need to listen to your body and accept it’s limits when it comes to practicing. Especially when you are by yourself, cause you may have fallen asleep standing up today, but what if you were driving home after a long practice and fell asleep at the wheel?” You have to bite your bottom lip in order to stop it from quivering, you don’t think he sees it, but he does.

“You’re right, baby. As always.” He smiles lovingly at you, thumb now running over your bottom lip to stop you from biting a hole in your lip.

Your eyes flutter shut when he leans down to press a short, but meaningful kiss against your parted lips. Stretching up on your toes, you angle your head in a way to deepen the kiss, having to chase his lips when he departs to early for your liking. You can feel the smile on his lips as he reciprocates your affections ten fold, feel the rumble of his laugh with your hands that are pressed firmly on his chest.

Foreheads lightly pressed together, eyes still closed, and his nose nuzzling yours, he speaks softly.

“How did I get so lucky to have someone care so deeply for me?”

“Sometimes I feel like it’s a curse, to care so deeply.” You mumble out half serious, half joking, smile playing on your lips. “But for you? I would gladly bear it for the rest of my life.”

A shaky sigh exhaled against yours lips, your next breath being caught by his lips that press fervently against yours with so much passion you can feel it in your toes, in his touch, and it nearly leaves you breathless.

A string of words chant off his lips with each kiss he gives you, reaching to your soul.

“I love you, I love you, I love you—”

[alecflynn]

basics.

full name — Alec Bodhi Flynn

faceclaim — Nick Robinson

gender & pronouns — cis man, he/him

age — 28

birthday — 8/23/1996

sexuality — disaster bi

occupation — bartender at The Pour House

neighborhood — transient (living in a van), but mostly stationed around Forest Lake

length of time in blue harbor — all his life, with occasional bouts of traveling throughout

tldr. tw: mental illness, drugs, alcohol, child neglect (full bio can be found at the bottom of the intro)

alec is a blue harbor native. he's been cutting it up in these streets since day one. his mother suffers from manic episodes and would often leave him alone for days on end and go cause havoc around town. so locals probably know the name 'daisy flynn' and they probably don't get warm and fuzzies when they hear it. his dad is totally unknown to him

with the freedom of having absolutely zero structure growing up, alec fell into partying. he taught himself how to play the guitar, and as he got older, he used that to his advantage. he started a band, was surprisingly good at writing songs— the only time anyone caught a glimpse of emotional depth— and settled into his role as the heartbreaker

alec really thought the glory of high school would last forever, even going as far as buying a van with the intention of touring for the summer between junior and senior year and every summer after that. only, he never clued his bandmates into those plans and they actually had parents that gave a shit, so instead, he turned it into his home. eventually, inevitably, they were evicted from their apartment when his mom went off the deep end for a little too long, so he sort of had no choice

for all of senior year, alec lived alone in his van that he lovingly named ole bessy. it was about halfway through the year that he realized people were making plans outside of blue harbor. college, jobs, settling anywhere that wasn't here. but alec liked here, and he didn't really understand everyone being so hellbent on leaving

abandonment issues settled in and alec sort of became a nomad. once he graduated from high school (somehow??? like, good for him, but i genuinely don't understand how he did it) he left blue harbor to travel in his van. he played shows, settled in places for just long enough to start to feel those attachments grow and then he'd take off again

he'd roll back into town from time to time, but when he inevitably messed up, he'd leave again, coming back only when enough time had allowed to dust to settle. and the cycle has repeated itself now for years

headcanons.

alec has undiagnosed dyscalculia. he doesn’t realize that numbers don’t jumble around in everyone’s heads the way they do his. it makes him feel stupid, so he tries to avoid math situations, or anything that has anything to do with numbers.

alec can be very self-absorbed. it’s not because he’s a dick, it’s just because he’s always too aware of himself to see things from any other perspective. he’s covered up his need to be loved and accepted by fooling himself into believing everyone loves him the way he loves everyone else. it’s a fun line to walk.

because alec largely had to parent himself, there are a lot of things he misses that should be obvious, but just aren't. he genuinely doesn't ever go out of his way to hurt anyone's feelings, but he definitely has left a string of heartbreak in his wake. he just doesn't know how to let people in, he doesn't understand that his inability to love isn't the same for everyone else. he just expects that people feel the way he does about things.

he writes really good fuckin' songs. you would never know he is the same person listening to his songs versus meeting him in real life, but it stems from the fact that he never learned how to deal with or regulate his emotions, so he channels it into his song writing

alec is a very physically affectionate guy. his love language is physical touch so it's not weird or out of the ordinary for alec to be touchy.

wanted connections.

childhood friends - some that he still keeps in touch with, maybe some that are starting to get tired of his shit. maybe some that have been tired of his shit for a while

bandmates - new or old. he's been back in town for a little while now, so he's had time to get the band back together (or welcome new people into it)

best friend - someone who understands him in a way that other people really don't. they might be hurt when he leaves, but they know that he'll come back and they know why he is the way he is. it's complicated but they'll always have his back

exes - alec is not known for his faithfulness or for being a good boyfriend. these would have likely ended badly and they wouldn't have gone on for very long. or maybe a few ended up friends. who knows

hook ups - a guy has needs. and those needs don't need strings. it can be complicated with unrequited feelings or it can just be a casual thing that just scratches an itch for both parties

antagonistic - enemies alec has made, people that liken him to his mom who is still around causing trouble, people that feel he's done them dirty. maybe past employers he's left high and dry. people he owes money to. anything!

honestly, up for ANYTHING. might add more as they come to me, but let's just throw stuff at the wall and see what sticks.

full bio.

Alec Flynn was born a free spirit. As a child, he was always questioning everything: who decided we have to go to school five days a week? Why is ‘because I said so’ an acceptable answer? Why do we have to wear shoes? We’re inside! (Alec was regularly in trouble in school for taking off his shoes). For a minute, he tried the Scouts thing, but ultimately it wasn’t meant to last. He didn’t do well with structure or a chain of command. He constantly questioned authority and pushed his limits as far as they would go and then some. He’d say he quit, but it was, at the very least, a mutual parting of ways. It was probably for the best, though. Being raised by a single mother who followed her every whim and regularly left her too-young son alone, sometimes for days on end, while she ran off with a new boyfriend or chased a new high meant that money was so tight it was basically non-existent. Just like the father he never knew. God forbid they spent any of that money on him.

He found his stride a little more once he hit high school. Being musically inclined since he could talk suddenly seemed a lot more interesting to his peers once puberty hit. Alec loved the attention and he leaned fully in. He started a band with a few friends. People knew him. And for the first time in his life, he felt seen. That kind of feeling went to his head. He was a serial dater, the heartbreaker, and he really fell into the party scene. With his friends at his side, he felt unstoppable, untouchable. The band found its groove and they owned the school. Or, at least, in Alec’s mind, they did. 

The insecurities began to creep in around the middle of senior year. He’d never been much of a planner, content to only acknowledge what was right in front of his face at any given moment. But Alec began to realize, as everyone finalized their college and future plans, that he’d never really given it any thought. He liked what he did and what he had here, so why change it? But in the back of his mind, it did cause panic, listening to everyone plan to leave Blue Harbor behind. 

Leave him behind.

Alec grew a little more reckless after that. He partied harder, he wrote songs with a frantic edge. He thought maybe if he could just get lost in the life, it would never abandon him. But in the end, he watched people he adored and people that adored him scatter to the wind after graduation. 

On a whim, he’d purchased a van with money he’d managed to scrape together. It was an absolute piece of shit, but it was his piece of shit. It’s original intention was to go on tour— a notion he’d had but hadn’t clued his bandmates in on until after he’d already bought it— but when he was slapped with an eviction notice after his mom had been gone on a bender for weeks, it became home. 

For years, Alec did his best to outrun the bad feelings. Abandonment issues, who? Alec was simply a free spirit. It was in his DNA after all. His mother had never been able to stay in one place, and with a home on wheels, why shouldn’t he do the same? 

So it became something of a routine. He’d roll back into town after staying gone long enough to be missed, for whatever misdeeds he’d released on Blue Harbor to be forgotten or at the very least swept under the rug. And then, when he inevitably messed up, he’d go again to start the process over once more. It kept him safe and it kept others safe from him. That was a lesson he’d learned from his mother who had become something of a fixture on the streets in Weaver Ridge, becoming the town’s burden instead of just his. 

He’d like to stop running. Of course he would. But everything catches up to you when you stop moving. And he’s not ready to face those things just yet.

[prettyflyshyguy]

What are you gonna do, monster boy?

Amazing what I can achieve when I put a song on repeat. Smashed this one out as something fun, refreshing and stress free. Still working on the big final chapter of the C Virus AU, but I'm recovering my confidence as a writer by letting myself work on some sillier things. Good practice too.

This is a mini story based on this phenomenal post and an overly complicated idea I had from it.

Enjoy the garbage here, or on AO3.

“You look nice.” Leon smiled wryly.

Chris rolled his eyes as he pushed the elevator doors back for Leon, who was wasting all the time in the world as he made his way down the corridor. The sharp cut business attire didn’t suit him as much as it barely fit him. A necessary evil, Leon had assured him. It’ll go down better.

To aid in Rebecca’s continued research, and for ease of access to monitoring the effects of the trial viral inhibitors she’d prescribed him, Leon was temporarily assigned to assisting in BSAA operations. The guise was of course that his knowledge post-Lanshiang was critical in containing and mitigating the impact of smaller scale and localised outbreaks of the C-Virus. A half truth, no one seemed to question it so far and a number of months had already passed. The global crisis raged on, the work never ended, his temporary partnership was easily justified to nosy journalists and more discerning governmental bodies.

Chris perpetually winged to him the whole elevator ride about how much he found the bureaucratic nature of these meetings tiresome. Paper pushers, out-of-touch management. Stakeholders who never set foot on ground zero yet felt qualified to call the shots. 

“If it weren't for people like that, we wouldn't be here.” Leon retorted, “You saying you’d want to be out of a job?”

He smiled as he watched Chris fiddle for the umpteenth time with his collar and tie.

“If people like that weren't around, there’d be no BOW based warfare. I’ll be glad the day I’m made redundant.” Chris huffed as he loosened his tie slightly.

Leon conceded that the man had a point.

The meeting was routine. The BSAA was called in to clean up a minor incident, it was successful, and so various representatives and stakeholders for the client would be meeting with the BSAA to discuss the outcome and debrief. Chris had insisted on arriving early, saying that this meeting was critical given the circumstance of the client, and it needed to go smoothly. 

Although it wasn’t mentioned, Leon could tell he appreciated the emotional support.

-

Chris was, for all intents and purposes, an exemplary operator within the BSAA. Most notable about him was his considerable empathy, fierce determination to do what's right, and how much he believed they had the power to change the world for the better. Quality traits, Leon respected him highly for them all, however, the latter might be considered a tad naive. Chris was an exemplary operator, trapped in a room, surrounded by stakeholders and board members. Politicians, in the figurative sense, and arguably the worst kind. Leon’s eyes darted around the seated figures, noting the sheen of luxurious silk clothes, tailored suits and wrist watches that were never used for any practical purpose. If you had to ask, you couldn’t afford it. 

There were a handful of friendlies on the south end of the oval table where Leon and Chris sat opposite. Leon knew them all as subordinates within the teams Chris oversaw, all good men and women, people you could trust. They had kindness in their eyes despite the worn and torn faces they wore, they shared the optimism of their Captain. They existed in stark contrast to the other two thirds of the table where the client cartel sat in horseshoe formation, their backs positioned to the entrance to the room, psychologically forming a barrier between the BSAA staff and the exit. 

“-pride ourselves in swiftly responding to an incident, and I am very pleased with the outcome and the performance of my team.”

Leon watched Chris fidget slightly in his seat as he spoke. He was clearly uncomfortable, but he was handling it well. Still, Chris was out of his depth. 

Politicians were hard enough to hold a work related conversation with. They were always playing games. A simple discussion became a contract with fine print, never in your favor or your benefit. More was always demanded of you, because good was never good enough for them. He wondered who had more power anyway, in these strange times. Was it the politicians he was used to handling, or the people sitting a few meters away from him. 

“-the use of B.O.W units by the BSAA?”

Leon’s attention violently snapped back to the woman seated at the head of the table. She shuffled through a document folder, licking a finger to flick through the pages effortlessly. Peering down through a set of reading glasses with a fine gold chain draped around her neck, a frown crinkled the skin on her forehead. She looked to be at least fifty years of age, with the telltale signs that she’d had work done to maintain a youthful presentation. Despite mankind mastering the molding of biology, they were still unable to tame the passage of time. The cracks in her mask formed when she frowned, and her voice gave away her years. Her dark eyes shifted upwards, piercing out from behind a sunken brow.

“I-Wh-Excuse me?” Chris stammered, shocked at whatever she had just implied.

Leon looked around the room hoping to find some context. The BSAA members appeared just as confused and shocked as he was. 

“Mr. Redfield, as the lead operator of this…” the woman paused, a chill beginning to settle on the room, “... Successful operation…”

Chris stiffened in his chair. Leon squinted from across the table and could barely make out the tiny printed details on her visitors identification badge.

Ms. Harker, CTO, Valhanian Pharmaceuticals. 

This is bad, he thought.

“... Do you condone the use of Bio-Organic-Weapons by the BSAA?” 

Harker’s speech had a sharp whistle to it that pierced the air of the room and the stunned silence of the attendees. This was a regular Tuesday lunch for Leon, for Chris this may as well be judgment day at the pearly gates. 

Don’t.

As if willing it so hard might psychically influence Chris into responding the right way.

Chris, don’t.

“What the hell are you trying to say?”

Fuck.

He couldn’t fault Chris for being defensive, but god, if there ever was a worse time for it.

“It’s a simple question, Mr Redfield.”

Chris rolled back his shoulders and leaned into his chair, hands clasped tightly on the tabletop, trying to calm himself as he regulated the tone of his response.  

“Of course we don’t condone the use of B.O.W’s, the BSAA was formed specifically to combat their use and propagation.” he responded calmly and confidently. 

“Thank you Mr Redfield, you’ve alleviated my concerns regarding your intelligence.”

Leon flinched at the insult. Glancing at Chris, he could see his friend's quick fuse burning at an alarming rate. 

“However your conviction is something I fear I must question.” 

Chris swallowed. The colour had drained ever so slightly from his face.

“I only think it’s right that the BSAA is transparent with regards to how it operates. We came to you on the good faith you would have the professionalism to help us clean up a horrific accident…” she gently placed the manilla folder back on the desk in front of her, and started to lay out items from inside it in an organised fashion.

“... and what are we without safety protocols and rigidity? Our products keep people alive and healthy all over the world, as I’m sure you’re all well aware.”

The venom in her tone caused a shiver to roll across Leon’s skin. 

“So to sit here in front of myself and my associates, and represent the BSAA, I find this conviction quite concerning with regards to what I’m going to show you.”

With a twist of her wrist she selected and slid a photograph down the length of the table, as if to twist the knife deeper.

“Care to explain this to me, Mr Redfield?”

Chris gently reached for the photograph, his hand trembled ever so slightly. The sight of Chris of all people, this nervous unsettled Leon like nothing else, despite everything he’d been through and seen before. Somehow a room full of big-pharma sharks was scarier than a giant monster covered in teeth and claws. He felt his heart beat a little faster as Chris eyed the photograph.

“I’m sorry, what exactly am I looking at?”

Good, good. Leon thought. Don’t give it to them easy. 

“What you are looking at, Mr Redfield, is an image pulled from our security system. It’s the clearest shot our team recovered, as either the camera’s were tampered with, or their blind spots were carefully utilised by this….” she paused, tapping the table with an acrylic nail as she pondered what word would be most appropriate.

“... individual.”

She paused to let the phrase sink in before continuing.

“It failed to hide entirely from us however, and in that image you can clearly see it is wearing a uniform that matches those of your team, yet it is not a human.”

Fuck. He’d been so careful, so cautious.

Something had felt off about the job from the minute Leon set boots on the ground outside the factory. Chris had assured him that it’d be smooth, he’d done it a hundred times before, there shouldn’t be any issues. It was a C-Virus outbreak for sure, but not the normal kind. Valhanian was working on vaccines and preventative medication, blockers for the immune system that could quickly and effectively obliterate the virus or prevent it from even gaining a hold on the system. The most common form was the standard strains that had a very similar effect on humans as the T-Virus did, which they were led to believe was the main focus of the factory - manufacturing and R&D for the ‘zombie’ strains. 

What they found waiting for them was most certainly not the standard C-Virus infected humans. 

Chris had brushed it off at the time, claiming that with how volatile the virus was, he wasn’t surprised that something had gone wrong and there were chrysalid variants in the facility.

Nothing’s without risk, something must have gone wrong, it’s not like we haven’t handled this sort of thing before.

Leon knew that there was no way in hell that a company with that much money in the game of vaccines would fuck around and find out - risking everything in the process. But it wasn’t worth arguing with Chris, he insisted that it wasn’t his job to worry about the science team’s side of things and that ‘Rebecca will figure it out.’ 

Chris was ever the optimist on his good days. Leon had seen too much to trust any corporation that invested in the field of medicine. You don’t get fission without fusion, and anyone who claimed that advancements in bio-organic warfare had no links to advancements in medicine, was a fool or a liar. Most likely both. 

Naturally, something went wrong on the job, sure he’d had a little ‘mutation’ incident, but Rebecca’s drugs worked a treat, they just took a while to fully kick in. 

.

“I don’t know what this is or what you’re trying to do, we don’t employ B.O.W’s as part of our operations, whatever you’re trying to claim with this is unfounded.” Chris responded in anger.

No no no you dumbass, don’t give it to them Chris!

“Mr. Redfield, I'm just being thorough.” Harker’s voice took the tone of a teacher reprimanding a student, “You’re no stranger to the industry, and I’m sure you understand we are very conscious and concerned about protecting our business. Incidents like this are of a high concern to us as the entire reason we brought the BSAA in to assist us was to stop a B.O.W incident.”

Chris glanced briefly at the BSAA staff seated around him, and Leon. Fear and panic reflected in his eyes, a silent cry for help. Leon could tell that Chris knew who was in the photograph and could only lie about it for so long before the game was given away.

Leon cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the sharks.

“Ms Harker I can assure you that Chris is just as shocked as you are, and that the BSAA operates at the highest level of-”

“Thank you for your assurance, Mr Kennedy,” Harker interrupted, her full attention snapping to Leon “but I believe you are not a member of the BSAA is that correct?”

There was a predatory look to her gaze. Leon’s heart skipped a beat.

“Yes, I’m temporarily assigned to assist them in operations regarding the C-Virus as I have first hand experience with it that has proven invaluable in us combatting further outbreaks.”

“I don’t doubt that Mr. Kennedy. I’m aware of your reputation and high standing. Our country has a lot to thank you for.” 

He shivered again. There was no genuinity to her tone.

“I just wish to express my concerns, as I feel we deserve an explanation to the security footage.”

Leon dug his fingers into his thigh, scrunching the fabric of his chinos, hands hidden under the table. Showing any public sign of fear or nerves would be his downfall.

“Trust is critical to any operation, but you all know this of course. How can we trust the BSAA after seeing this? How can you even trust yourselves?” 

Seeing a hint of a smile form at the edges of her mouth, Leon’s temper began to rise.

Chris began to speak, only to be cut off by Harker’s shrill tone.

“Have you considered that there may be individuals lying dormantly infected, unbeknownst to the world, the BSAA, even themselves?

Leon bit down on his tongue. 

“Perhaps there’s an infected individual sitting in this room with us right now.”

Chris went white and gripped the photograph tighter, holding himself back from instinctively looking away from Harker, he could see the bait now but it was too late.

“Perhaps it's someone not within the BSAA.” she trailed off softly as she shifted her sights from Chris to Leon. 

He felt the eyes of every member of the meeting shift to look at him in horror. 

[jjs-brainrot]

The spring anime season is finally over so here's my rankings of the shows I watched!

AoTY-Tier (For anime that was so good that it will have zero competition for AoTY)

Girls Band Cry: Easily one of the greatest band anime ever. Any series coming for its crown will have to be near perfect to even have a chance.

S-Tier (I'm a fan of the source material and this was a good adaptation)

Dungeon Meshi (Season 2 announced): Studio Trigger is absolutely proving themselves as stewards of one of the best fantasy series ever written. Eagerly looking forward to them adapting the rest of the manga.

Spice and Wolf Remake (Still on going): Another solid adaptation of Spice and Wolf. Admittedly it's been covering a lot of the same ground the first anime covered but that should change next cour given that it'll be covering an entire book that was absent from the first right off the bat.

A-Tier (Shows that I became obsessed with and were the highlight of my week)

Yuru Camp S3: Camping propaganda strikes again! While some of the backgrounds and animation felt weaker then past seasons, every episode still felt like all my worries were just washing away. It's easily still the poster child of the Iyashikei genre.

B-Tier (Good shows that I can definitely recommend giving a try)

The Fable (Still on going): While I haven't talked about it much, The Fable has been a pretty interesting crime drama. It does feel like it was more meant for a live action adaptation tv drama (which it apparently has) rather then an anime but it's still been a pretty solid show so far. Like A Dragon the Anime isn't actually that far off of a descriptor surprisingly.

C-Tier (shows I liked but were very flawed)

Nothing

D-Tier (…Why did I watch this to the end?)

Nothing

Dropped/DNF

Whisper Me A Love Song: As a fan of the manga, it does me great pain to say this, but this isn't a good adaptation. Just read the manga and maybe look up the anime versions of the songs when they appear in the manga. It's an excellent series, but unfortunately this adaptation just has way too many production issues to actually recommend.

[queerweewoo]

CRACK (TO THE HEAD) WITH A CAPITAL 'C'

(AKA The Written at 4am Buddie Crack-ish Fic Starring: Thirsty Song Lyrics, National Treasure Christopher Diaz, and Way Too Many Feels For Its Own Damn Good)

.

It's Friday morning, two minutes to zero-ten hundred-hours, according to Eddie's Timex Indiglo watch which is never even a half-second out, when he unlocks the door to Buck's place to drop Christopher off for his overnight stay—Chris refuses to call them sleepovers anymore because age thirteen is apparently The Number of The Beast—before Eddie will have to bail pretty sharpish to kick-off his twenty-four shift that begins at eleven.

On entering the apartment, they're met by the sound of raucous, upbeat music.

Eddie scans the loft for his friend and has to do a seriously comical double take when he catches sight of Buck, who has one hand spread palm-down on his the couch cushions, and the other behind his back as he performs shirtless one-armed wonder press-ups (with perfect fucking form, as always) to the punky beat of The Offspring's Pretty Fly For A White Guy that's currently blasting from Buck's bluetooth speaker—riiiiiight as the Give it to me baby! A-ha! A-ha! part of the song hits and the whole scene has Eddie's brain record-scratching and stopping him dead in his army issue steelies.

Dead, fucking dead, ¡Santa María, salva mi alma!

His jaw instantly drops through the floor and into the apartment below without his permission as if there are lead weights attached to his teeth, his mouth now fully hanging open and catching all the damn flies in a completely horrifying display of blatant, lust-filled shock.

Buck is breathtaking at the best of times, but right here, right now, he is heart-stoppingly unfuckingreal.

READ MORE BELOW OR HERE ON AO3

Eddie's bestie (best friend-shaped, Eddie! Eddie thinks, Buck is best friend-shaped!) is carelessly grunting like some sort of sex-machine that's been built to Eddie's exact specifications, and each grunt is louder than the last with each new, hard push upwards of Buck's swollen-thick torso, glistening sweat beading on his—well, on his absolutely fucking everything, Jesus fucking Christ on a bike, and Eddie's washing machine brain is at once stuck on an eternal spin-cycle and may well break down any second now and have him collapsing like a shabby old rag doll dressed in Eddie's Henley and Eddie's ripped jeans and falling to his now-violently shaking knees if he doesn't grab the fuck onto something, STAT.

He's about to shamefully steady himself with a hand to his son's shoulder when Christopher starts yipping like a madman then joining in with the song lyrics by positively shouting out the chorus.

“Give it to me baby! A-ha! A-ha!” he screams in a deliberate and absurd soprano, and Eddie's mind is screaming in Shut-Down, having first upgraded to an aneurysm, or at least a stroke, and he has to slap a hand over his kid's mouth, pronto, because he doesn't know what the fuck else he possibly could do at this point in the fantasy-laiden world that is currently unfolding before his probably now bloodshot eyes; nothing else he can think of to stop himself from ending up in a drooling heap that will become known as The Reduction Formally Known As Eddie Diaz's Gay Panic when he melts onto Evan Buckley's kitchen linoleum at possibly one minute to ten on a Friday afternoon in June in the year of our Lord 2024.

Eddie just barely manages to squeak out a truly pathetic, “Nope! Nuh-huh! No!” before that particular Cartoon Network-esque slapstick disaster becomes an unfathomable and inescapable reality.

Christopher obviously protests his outrage with a muffled but still impressively indignant, “Daaaad! I'm thirteen YEARS old, not thirteen MONTHS old!” just as Buck spots them both and smiles his big, adorable smile, immediately abandoning his exercises to turn the music off (oh, thank the Heavens!) and jumping up to stride over towards Christopher and Eddie to meet them where they're standing around like kitchen gremlins by the central island in Buck's kitchenette.

Sopping wet, wide-spread sweat patches are darkening the majority of Buck's once-light grey jersey short-shorts (holy crap, they are short and are leaving nothing to the imagination), those unfairly long legs of his slick and shimmering with dewy-fresh perspiration, just like the rest of his devastatingly gorgeous half-naked body, and Eddie wouldn't be joking if he regaled this moment to somebody at a later date (as if he ever would) by telling them that his entire life flashed before his eyes—because it absolutely balls to the wall no fucking shit just did.

He blinks approximately seven-hundred and thirty-three times in the less-than-four seconds it takes for Buck to reach them.

Christopher is flailing under Eddie's death-grip like a traumatised kidnap victim, while Eddie is continuing to freak the fuck out in Narnia like the crazed Closet Case that he is.

Edmundo Diaz—First Responder; Lapsed Roman Catholic—finds himself praying for a natural disaster, or an act of God, or, or, or, just... Something! Anything!

¡Por favor, Dios, por favor!

Resolute to the fact he has absolutely one-hundred percent secured his place in the very lowest circle of Hell, Eddie plasters a surely maniacal pearly-white grin onto his stupid and definitely reddening face, and says, “Howdy!” far too loudly in his thickest Texan accent for some unknown fucking reason—which is far, far louder and far, far thicker than any he ever sported while actually growing up in Texas—because he's clearly gone bat-shit fucking insane. Then he's breaking out into even more of a full-body sweat than Buck who has been working out for what is probably around the half-hour mark or more, by this point, because Sweaty Adonis Buckaroo is now right fucking there right in fucking front of Eddie so fucking close almost close enough to reach out and touch—

Ohshitohshitohshitohshitohshit!

And isn't this just aces?

Eddie thinks, Fuck fucking push-ups, fuck The Fucking Offspring, and fuck fucking Eddie's fucking life so fucking hard, godfuckingdammit.

Eddie is so Bucked.

Buck's smile is turning inquisitive (and somehow even more adorable) at Eddie's clear display of Buck-induced brain damage, before his baby-blues are twinkling with something... Mischievous? Cunning?

And then he's answering Eddie's dumb as shit greeting with, “Aloha, cowboy,” his brows snaking up his forehead, tongue lolling out of his mouth to rest on that sinfully pouty-pink bottom lip in a way that is the complete fucking opposite of innocent, leaving Eddie wondering if it's possible to die twice in the space of—well, ever.

(He knows all too well that it is, but he's been Bucked, remember, so how about giving his brain a break, hmm? THANK YOU SO MUCH).

Then Eddie wonders: Is this the ghost of Buck 1.0 that's come to say:

Hi, babygirl, I'm here to Buck you up good, real good, so you better hold on real tight because you're goin' downtown faster than a whore's panties, you slutty little—*GUNSHOTS*

About to possibly kick the bucket for the third time in as many minutes, Eddie realises he doesn't really know what Hawaii could possibly have to do with the Wild West (Aloha Cowboy?) but that he honestly couldn't give any amount of fucks, flying or otherwise, because unless his head has been cruelly hoodwinked with a massive serving of Wishful Thinking, he is also realising that...

That...

Buck is seriously flirting with him right now?!

He ponders briefly over how hard he actually hit his head when he'd banged it into the doorframe of his truck, maybe five minutes earlier when grabbing Christopher's crutches from the backseat just after they'd arrived.

Eddie then notices Christopher's teenage Smirky McSmirkerson features in his periphery (Chris had managed to prize Eddie's numb hand from his face a moment ago) and also the way his son's own head is snapping between his now fully-loco father and his Buck, and Eddie thinks of tennis matches, and flying pigs, and how stiflingly hot it seems to have become in the loft in the last thirty or so seconds.

Then Buck is licking at those lovely lips of his, turning to Christopher and saying, “What do you say we go out on a breakfast date on Sunday morning, after your Dad has slept a bunch, huh Christopher?”

Only, when he says the word 'date', Eddie doesn't think he's imagining the way Buck's eyes flicker pointedly in Eddie's exact direction.

“Because I'm off the whole weekend,” he continues, “so the three of us could drive the jeep out of town and I could buy you both giant syrupy waffles with maple bacon and Horchata milkshakes from Fosselman's and then... And then we can go visit the the Greek Theatre, and then maybe Griffith Observatory later on in the evening, when the stars come out, and we'll hold hands,”—again, his eyes bore longingly into Eddie's for a split-second that feels like a lived lifetime—“all three of us, like we used to when you were tiny, Chris, you remember that? And it'll be the best day that we've ever, ever had together, I absolutely know it.”

Buck is looking at Eddie again, only Buck isn't looking away this time and Eddie is almost positive that his eyes are screaming: Yes, Eds! Yes, I want you, too, man! So let's do this!

“Ew, no way,” Christopher instantaneously complains—before he's quickly backtracking and amending his statement with, “To the hand-holding, I mean. The rest sounds pretty good, though, Buck. What do you think, Dad?” and he even manages to sound marginally appreciative at the tail end—appreciative for a sharp, snarky teenager, that is.

Christopher then fully turns to Eddie (Eddie who's body is now sans soul) and says, “Can we really have waffles and milkshakes for breakfast Dad? Can we? Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease don't be a major Joy Assassin and say 'It's not a proper meal if there's no vitamins involved, Mijo', because it'll be a Sunday, and it sounds so awesome, like the rest of the day does, too, actually. And you love Buck, Dad, so maybe just you and him can be sappy Sallys and hold hands and be all gross together, and I'll secretly snap your picture when you're mooning at Buck with heart-eyes, like you always do, and Buck will give you heart-eyes back, like he always does, too, except this time you can both do it while you're actually looking at each other, and then I'll send the photo to Aunt Maddie and Uncle Chim who can maybe finally convince you two to move in together and get married like I've been trying to get them to for years, now!”

Eddie doesn't know where the hell the kid got the breath from for all those truths.

Because that's what that was; Eddie's truth, all of it.

But was it really Buck's truth, too?

Like they're rehearsing in a play based on their lives, Buck, on cue, lets out a really happy-sounding gasp that quickly morphs into a happy-sounding laugh, and Eddie bottle-rockets right out of the fucking apartment and off into the fucking stratosphere.

He is very much back in the room, though, when Christopher takes his hand to gracelessly slam-join it with Buck's, which is calloused like his own due to the life-saving work they proudly tackle together day-to-day—always together, every day they can be, always, partners in everything they do—and Buck's hand is big, and warm, too, and all kinds of wonderful, and then Eddie is not only thinking about all the skin and the hot and the sweaty and the gorgeous, but also about how Buck has saved Eddie's life, so many times, now, and saved him in so many different ways from practically the first week he and Chris spent in LA after leaving El Paso, has saved him in every way possible, actually, every which way under the sun and the moon and the stars, even the ones they can't see from Griffith Observatory. And even though Buck has just murdered Eddie twice already this morning in the silly-short space of time he and Christopher have been here, with his push-up grunts and sexy-swagger and his 'Aloha, Cowboy' (whatever the fuck that even means) and, most of all, above everything else, Buck's Over Nine-Thousand level of Adorability, Buck's boundless generosity and kindness, Buck's inherently thoughtful nature, and Buck's twelve-sizes-too-big heart, he is saving Eddie again with the way he's letting Eddie Eddie love, love, love him.

And the fact that he is taking care of Eddie's son today, tonight, is absolutely everything to Eddie. Buck is Christopher's Buck, Christopher's hero, and he's Eddie's hero, as well, and Eddie wants to claim him as Eddie's Buck, too, because Buck thinks Christopher is awesome and always genuinely looks forward to looking after him, to loving him all of the time, just like Eddie loves Chris, and like Eddie loves Buck because Buck cares about Christopher just as much as Eddie does, and Eddie knows—he knows without a shadow of a doubt—that Buck's love for the boy they're raising together is a type of love that no other person, bar Shannon, has had for him, for them, before or ever will again.

There is nobody else like Buck in the universe.

Nobody cares or loves like Evan Buckley, or more than Evan Buckley, and being on the receiving end of that love is worth more than solid gold, or oxygen, or even spicy pepperoni pizza and a cold one after pulling a gruelling shift as a Firefighter on the never-sleeping streets of Los Angeles, CA.

And then just like that, Eddie is able to put a timely yet abrupt stop to any and all of his panic (gay or otherwise) because there isn't a shred of anxiety left inside of him, now, not about this, at least, because he knows he's got nothing whatsoever to be scared of with Buck.

So addressing his son (their son, really) Eddie nods his head emphatically and tells his boy, “Yeah, Chris, that does sound awesome; Waffles and milkshakes and all of it,” and then squeezes the hand in his, Buck's hand, and leans over Buck's kitchen counter and says easily, “I love you, Buck—I mean, I'd love to, Buck! Shit—”

“Swearbox!” Christopher chides smugly.

Eddie pulls a face at his slip-up and at his son, then clears his throat and continues a little sheepishly with, “But, um,” before looking up to remind himself of that adoring that look Buck is giving him, and then saying more decisively,“ But yeah, that other thing, too, actually, because yeah, yes, you know I love you, Buck... At least, I hope you know it,” and then he huffs a little laugh as he adamantly says, “I love you, Evan Buckley,” and thinks 'In for a penny' and strains his neck to reach across and kiss Buck shyly on the cheek.

Only his aim is a little off and he ends up planting a kinda sloppy one right on the corner of Buck's slightly parted lips, but it turns out he's glad about it and is even sort of proud that he misjudged the angle and got to feel Buck's unabashed smile against his own upturned lips, because he's wanted to do that ever since he first laid eyes on the man standing in front of him who is radiating the sun's rays out of his very core, as if he actually owns them and the sun only has them on a loner for sunny days.

Buck is smiling like he's just won the World Series—which is funny because Eddie has just won the Being Gay With a Capital 'G' award, and that means they are both Imaginary Winning Title holders, now.

Except no, fuck that, because Eddie's win isn't imaginary at all, it is very much a beautiful and viscerally Real win, actually.

Real with a capital R, muchas gracias.

Apparently, all Buck has to say about all of this right now is, “Okay, alright, you get your fine ass to work now, Eddie Spaghetti, and Christopher and I will see you on the flipside for sleep and cuddles and, and, and a Real with a capital R adventure on Sunday,” and Eddie is looking at the universe sideways for the first time in the entirety of his non-believing life. “Oh and by the way, honey—and I am so calling you honey from now on, also by the way, just so you know—I absolutely one-hundred percent, honey,” he pauses for second and and winces a bit, “Christopher I will also be adding to the Swearbox for this one... Love the shit outta you too, Edmundo Diaz.”

Christopher just claps and laughs and laughs and claps and then shouts, “My two Dads love each other, universe, did you hear that?!”

Somehow managing to smile even bigger than he was a moment ago, Buck then lightly grabs the now half wolf-whistling, half dry-retching thirteen-year-old matchmaking genius who goes by Christopher Diaz, in a loose headlock and starts scrubbing gentle knuckles through his curls, before literally kicking the happiest man on the whole damn planet out of his apartment with a ridiculously big and adorably bare foot.

“Go! You'll be late! We'll see you tomorrow, honey.”

Eddie (said happiest man on the whole damn planet) waits until Buck's door has closed behind him and then till the elevator door has slid open and shut again before fist-pumping the air like the dorky First Place In The Game of Life winner that he is, smiling what is likely his biggest smile since his darling Christopher came into this world.

Then he pulls out his tongue at nobody at all and thinks, Fuck you, first place is first place; dork or not.

As he leaves Buck's building, he also thinks, I'll have to crack my head on random shit more often, joking with himself and chuckling like a prize idiot as he crosses the side road towards his truck.

Then he's immediately cursing himself out with every swear words he knows, in both English and Spanish, for somehow allowing himself to be pulled into Buck's nonsensical woo-woo Cosmic Universe bullshit.

Vida, vida, vida.

Although...

Maybe—just maybe—he could forgive the slip, just this one time, just this once, when he recognises his chuckle as the being the very same, gloriously happy-sounding laughter that Eddie had unbelievably managed to pull from the chest of the best man he's ever known (who also happens to be the hottest man in the whole frickin universe; cosmic or otherwise).

It's the man Eddie has loved for years who—apparently, amazingly—loves Eddie right back.

Evan 'Buck' Buckley.

Christopher's Buck. Eddie's Buck.

And when he's climbing into his truck and inexplicably clocks his head on the doorframe again, for the second time today (seriously, what the actual fuck is going on here?), Eddie looks around suspiciously and surreptitiously before taking a minute to peer hesitantly up at the sky-blue sky and its cotton-candy clouds and the hot, hot sun with its borrowed rays, out into the universe, or to God, or who—or what—ever is or isn't out there, before finding himself about to mutter a few choice incredulous words from under his breath.

He takes a gulp of air, and says, “Yeah, okay, muchas gracias, oh cosmic powers that be, yada yada et cetera et cetera, if you do in fact exist, not that I really think you do,” whispering the statement and feeling like a first class clown, “But, just in case?” Eddie swallows the lump in his throat and soldiers on. “Just in case, here it is: Yes, I obviously wholeheartedly appreciate whatever it was you might or might not have done for me back there, like, I really, honestly, seriously, do, but just—will you just please do me a solid and...” Eddie can't believe he's thinking this, let alone saying (albeit whispering) it for realsies, “...don't let Buck or Christopher or Hen or Karen or Chim or Maddie or Bobby or Athena or Ravi or, hell, any other fucker on the planet know that I actually said any of this phooey out loud, alright? Not ever. Or Santa Mierda, I will seriously come for you like a rabid Nordic Goat Herder on a mixture of bath salts and crack cocaine and crazy because I would never, ever be able to live this shit down if it got out. ¿Entiendes?”

Completely fucking done with that, Eddie starts up the engine and pulls out of his parking space outside of Buck's building, while annoyingly hoping that the universe understands at least a smidgen of Spanish, and begins the first day of the rest of his life, mumble-humming a not entirely unenthusiastic tune...

“Give it to me baby! A-ha! A-ha!”

.

(this had barely one skim-over edit so please be kind!)

[ednacsworld]

I'd rather watch the TV

than knocking on an unassuming door

that will lead me into a view of

a back I couldn't recognize from

the length between the hallway and

the wooden table which stretches near

enough for me to shout blankly at

and gleefully find a common ground with.

– I considered it a wise choice to connect

and be as open as I could at that time,

don't blame me for that.

 

I'd rather watch the TV

than witnessing a face I don't expect

to see in the afternoon, confused and blurred

to the greetings I have prepared, lonely and unsure

to the words that my mouth tries to blabber;

if my awkward gesture is what to go by,

then let me have my moment of embarrassment up front,

let me peacefully make amends with the silence that follows through.

– I remembered clearly

how I had zero thoughts and no words left in me

once I identified what it was

and I didn’t blame you for that.

 

I'd rather watch the TV

than staring at the screen under the blanket,

hiding from the world in a medium-sized room

that fills with two beds and an electric kettle;

a song playing softly in the background

just for me to hear but not to absorb,

to listen and not to think about.

– And if years from now,

this moment is all I could think of,

every time I ponder the reason of my demise,

I would still never blame you for that.

 

I'd rather watch the TV

than catching a shadow becomes visible and disappears

as it pleases, leaving no trace of life once the parade ends,

the memories that stay are burning in little flames,

hot flickers in the deepest part of my brain;

maybe it lives as what it is somewhere there,

it lives to be replayed like an old broken tape that can never be rendered.

– I don't remember your name at all,

I couldn't even recall your face anymore,

but I search for you in every person I come across,

can I blame you for that?

 

I'd Rather Watch the TV by Edna C.

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