#(it's near-ish future. we all know it's near-ish future)

[kenziedrawz]

kenzie, kenzie drop another chapter from live a live 2 kenzie edition. that or all the chapter blurbs if you have them ready

give us the crumbs girl we are STARVING

oh fuck yeah right.

Thank you anon I almost forgot to post more stuff for lal 2 kenzie edition.

While I don't have all the chapters prepared, I do, in fact, have all their blurbs ready to go! hell, I might even have you all vote on which one I post next. And yes, some do have character designs available too! which is fun. or well, half-bodies but still.

that being said. it's all under the cut. (also, quick tw for suicidal implicatons / ideation / themes, if you don't want to read about them then skip past the Early 2010's section)

High Middle Ages - The Defender In the distant past, the High Middle Ages, a young warrior takes a stand against an invading force challenging all she knows. But does she have what it takes to protect her friends and home? Or will it too be conquered and swallowed by the light of conformity?

The protagonist of this chapter is Levina, a Steadfast Knight with a heart of gold... well, she's not exactly a knight. She wishes for nothing more than to keep those who she cherishes safe, however due to various streaks of 'bad luck' she is unable to become a part of the Knights of her kingdom. She's determined to see to her goals, and who knows. Maybe this time she might actually become a real knight...

Ancient Babylonia - The Curious In ancient times— before the destruction of Babylonia— lives a curious being with eyes full of wonder. He, however, was not exactly what you’d call ‘human’… But that did not stop him from taking in everything he could learn! Especially with the finished construction of Babylonia’s new defender… but the question remains, just who will be the first to become the pilot of the Steel Titan?

The protagonist of this chapter is Meliodas, an angel-like being who is overly curious and looks at the world through a lense of childlike wonder... Is this partially due to him being an amnesiac? Who knows. He lives in Babylon with his best friend, Mystia, who is a researcher into Demons and Emotions and is trying to find the connection between the two.

This is also... the chapter I took the most creative liberties with. At least, in a history wise point of view because I'm pretty sure the Ancient Babylonians didn't actually have giant mechs. but oh well.

Golden Age of Piracy - The Captain A new rumor has taken the world by storm— an Island that hosts the world’s greatest treasure! A young captain sets out with her crew upon their beloved ship inherited from her late father, the Dragon’s Heart, in search of this treasure! But they’re not the only ones seeking this treasure, could an all out war at sea break out because of this rumor? Is it even real? The Captain is determined to find it and the truth!

The protagonist of this chapter is Captain Ashley, a bold and brash pirate captain determined to find the truth about the rumored island of treasure. While she may be cocky as hell, maybe even slightly reckless at times, she holds a deep care for her crew and treats them as if they were family.

Victorian Era - The Inventor An Inventor works day and night to prove herself to the world— to prove she is capable of making something great. When one day, an invitation to an inventing competition winds up at her doorstep! But this competition isn’t all that it seems, as some people are willing to do anything to get to the top. But does she have what it takes to persevere and show off her stuff to the world? Or will she drown under the pressure from her competitors?

The protagonist of this chapter is Evangeline, a young adult with a passion for inventing and mechanics. She goes under the alias of Evan when presenting her inventions however, as it's much easier to get recognition when people see you as a man instead of a woman in this field. She is hard working and determined, and would definitely try to take apart a phone to see how it works.

Pre-Present Day - The Phantom Some time in the future— due to a faulty experiment— One man is sent back through time and space and winds up some day in the past— just exactly when we don’t know. He’s lucky that he knows the local language, but there’s just one problem with that… He can’t speak it! So whilst traversing the land as a mute, he uncovers a secret lying within the countries’ museums, a collection of jewels that can grant one wish if gathered together! Of course, he aims to use them to get home, but it seems that somebody else has their eyes on these jewels. Thus making it a race against the clock to gather them all up!

The protagonist of this chapter is Haruki Tsukano, formerly a japanese scientist now forced into being a Phantom Thief in Europe. He's the oldest out of the cast considering he's in his late thirties, and is constantly tired. But underneath the Phantom Thief persona he's rather cocky, in reality he's a tired old man though(/hj)

He is, one of my favorites due to him essentially being the straight-man of the group despite going on potentially the wackiest of all the adventures the protags go through. My man literally got sent through time.

I will say that post final chapter he quits his job as a scientist and becomes... a biology teacher.

Early 2010’s - The Student Back in the early 2010’s, a young girl sets out to do the most important things on her bucket list after her sister passes away. Yet after that, what remains for her to do within this life? Will she simply jump straight to completing the tasks she has, or take longer and find new things to add onto her list as she gets it done? Who knows, that decision is yours…

The protagonist of this chapter is Riley, and I will not kid you but this is probably the third/second heaviest chapter in terms of theme. Considering that after Riley completes her list she, well, she considers/attempts to kill herself depending on which route you take.

Riley is a quiet girl who tends to keep to herself most of the time. However she is always open to learn new things, to experience something new— as that is the philosophy her sister had, to always keep your mind open to new experiences. She does, however, also carry a sense of righteousness and will berate herself if she simply stands by and lets someone who doesn’t deserve it get hurt.

Riley is definitely one of my more complex protagonists. she's got a bit going on already. Dead sister, dead father, kinda crappy mom, the works y'know? Her chapter doc is also the one that's the most complete.

and since you already know Near-ish future, let's skip to our spoiler chapters. or well, chapter.

(SPOILER) The Far Far Future - The Survivor In a distant time— far further than what we’ve seen before— A youth leads their team of elite trained friends into battle with the monsters that plague earth, all in the hopes that their home can be restored to its former glory with the REM project.

The protagonist of this chapter is Hajime, the steadfast determined leader of the SET(Sin Eradication Team), which is comprised of teenagers like themself who are on the cusp of adulthood. They're determined to restore earth to it's former glory, but do they have what it takes?

also, the only image I have of them. behold!

and, since I'm not spoiling anything else for now, that's pretty much it! now then, if you'd please vote for which chapter you want to see next!

No, Far Far Future is not on the poll because it's the spoiler chapter. But if enough people bug me about it I might reveal it early.

[bunny-jpeg]

all bark, no bite

max verstappen - team principal au

tags: smut/pwp, halloween fic, costumes (reader dresses as a puppy), collars, team principal!max, driver!reader, age gap (20s/40s), power dynamic, semi-public sex, quiet-ish sex, clothed sex, dirty talk

a/n: have a happy halloween, i'm writing more team principal au, if you have any suggestions for future installments, please send them to me. i love hearing what ya'll come up with!!

"you are not going to the party like that." you felt like you were being scolded by your father rather than your boss. you made a face and looked over to see your team principal near by.

you stuck your tongue out, "too bad." then started to walk further away from your driver's room and towards the exit. but, you didn't get far, not while your boss had a longer stride than you.

he captured your wrist and pulled you back, closer to him. in your heels, you staggered backwards. you looked up at him and frowned. he said, "i said, you're not going out like that."

"i don't have another costume." you bit back.

max made a face, "go as a verstappen racing fan. i don't know. but i'm not having you cause a scene because you decided to dress like a whore."

you had a complicated relationship with your team principal. you had seen the jokes over the years of tps having interesting dynamics with drivers, even drivers not on their team. you had even seen memes about your own dynamic with max verstappen.

if only they knew.

he had you pinned to his chest, with his hand on your wrist as he examined your neck from the odd angle. he clicked his tongue and said, "what is this costume even supposed to be?"

you replied, "a puppy."

"a puppy, huh? usually puppies have some manners. they at least look a little apologetic when their owners are mad at them." he sad as he used his other hand to touch at the collar around your neck, "you're not very apologetic towards me."

"you're not my owner."

he replied, "you may not have my name around your neck. but you have my logo across your pretty tits every time you race. i'd say that's about the same thing." you are max verstappen were intimate in a way that would send the press into a heated frenzy. you gave him racing results and he gave you the world.

but he had such a possessive streak through him. a jealous old man. you whined when he held onto your throat a little tighter. you shifted a little under his touch.

he leaned in to kiss you on the lips and squeezed the collar a little, thus squeezing your throat. he groaned, "if you wanted me to fuck you on halloween, you only had to ask." he held on a little tighter.

there was no one else around. there wouldn't be. halloween was on a thursday, practice didn't start till tomorrow. you eventually ended up on the transport boxes with the skirt of your dress hiked up.

you were dressed like a dalmatian, except anyone could make out the shape of your body. max had expectations for you as a driver for his team. he knew what it was like to be young with the world at your fingertips. he was meant to guide you. especially with how everyone recorded anything.

"hoping to get lucky tonight, puppy?" he asked as he pushed the dress up, exposing the thin, white cotton panties underneath. he licked his lips, "we could've gone back to my hotel room and played all night. fetch, tug-o-war, maybe you'd even get a bone by the end of the night." he licked his lips.

your face flushed and you shifted against the metal and plastic of the boxes. the surface was uneven and left your back feeling sore. this felt so public, it wasn't in the most excluded area. you swallowed, "oh my god, shut up." and whined when he kissed at your neck. your panties were around your ankles.

and when he kissed you, you heard the clink of his belt buckle and the zip of his jeans. he loomed over you. he was boarder than you, he could easily overshadow and overpower you. you whined when you felt his cock rub up against your slick entrance.

he said, "aw, look at that. they're kissing." he was talking about his sticky cock up against your slick pussy. the blunt head up against your clit. it made you feel a rush of pleasure through you.

you could feel the excitement, the risk of it all. if some stray reporter came through here or a security guard. you knew what the headlines for the weekend would be.

young, promising driver takes a ride on her team principal.

he sank into your sweet cunt and your ached your back. you let out a small noise and max put a hand over your mouth. your nose was left uncovered so you could breath. his other hand was on your thigh as he rocked against you. he said in a low voice, "you know i love when you're loud, but you have to to stay quiet. you can be a good puppy, right? be a good girl for me."

his praise made something bloom in your stomach as he moved against you. you had a total kink for his praise, that was why you always pushed yourself so hard on the track. it was why you were over a hundred points ahead of the second place racer. you thrived off of it, to have someone like max give you praise.

you moaned against his hand, your voice muffled as he rocked against you. his cock slotted in you so well. you exhaled deeply through your nose. you couldn't feel your headband anymore and hair got in your face as he fucked you in such a public space.

"fuck." he groaned, "you have no idea what you do to me.' he moved against you further, "i never know i liked costumes. maybe next year, you should go as me." he chuckled as he curved over you and got at a deeper angle, "but i sort of like you in a collar better."

you groaned and reached for his shoulders. you clutched onto his shoulder tightly. his cock hit up against the softest parts of you and it made you see stars. you panted heavily and tried to keep quiet even though max's hand was good at muffling most of the noise.

you pretty painted black nails dug into his shoulders through the verstappen racing t-shirt he wore. you looked good with his logo across your chest, but he looked just as nice in a black t-shirt.

hunger ran through you as he fucked your feverishly. there was no time for tenderness. while he loved taking you apart with his tongue and fingers. there really was no time to waste.

you felt the heat on your body, your costume stuck to you in a weird way. the blank tag on your collar bounced with the movements of your boss' thrusts. something about this felt wrong, it was wrong. you were certain there had been casual affairs throughout the decades of formula one.

but nothing quite like this. the protege of one of the greatest being fucked by her boss. your pretty tits bounced with a whorish movements as she got railed in the paddock of her team. quite the scandal if it got out.

most thought you fucked your way to the top. but, in all fairness, max saw how you drove before he saw the sway of your hips. he valued your skill more than your ability to suck his cock or take his thick fingers in your slick pussy.

you were his champion, sex was just a component of it. he took your virginity, and you gave him the points he needed to win. you tightened your legs around him as he continued to drill his cock into you. the pace increased as you felt the swarm of pleasure in your head.

you weren't going to the party tonight. you could already tell.

"next time." he said, "i'll get you a proper collar. something a little more padded. with a tag with my name on it. if you're going to be my puppy then, you'll have to look the party. don't worry about a tail or ears. you'll do just fine in lacy lingerie that i can tear off with my teeth."

you swallowed, your cunt clenched around him as he continued to fuck you with a heavy pace. your felt any sense go out your ear, fully engulfed by the heat between you two. max knew how to make you feel good, he knew exactly how to get your yearning for more. if you were a puppy then he was the big, bad wolf.

you whined around his hand and he pressed his palm further against you. he shushed you and held onto your hip tighter as he thrusted against you. he watched your eyes roll a little from the pleasure of the entire situation.

he could feel the leap in his chest and the sweat on his back. he didn't often fuck you in such a public place. but he couldn't help himself. you got to prance off to some luxury party hosted by drivers of another team. you were going to be with liquor, boys and whatever else money could buy.

of course he was going to be concerned about his darling driver. his superstar. after all, he had high expectations for you. you were going to be the best if you weren't already. and he wasn't going let you ruin it over some cheap shots and boys with small packages. he knew you needed someone older, someone like him.

the pace became faster, erratic with little formalities. there was little rhythm to it as his cock kissed the hottest parts of you. the parts that made you pant under his hand. your gaze became unfocused and your blood pumped in your ears.

you clutched onto him and whined something that max couldn't hear. he replaced his hand with his lips. the kiss was hot as you held onto him tightly. it was all too much, the pleasure crossed through you like a heated sword and you came around his cock.

he groaned when you clenched around him. your nails dug into his skin. it only fueled his need to fuck you harder. while not the most ideal position. he'd make due. when you broke the kiss, you panted heavily with your gaze unfocused. you looked whorish, but max loved it.

the pace continued, and max made sure that your body was wracked with more lust as he continued to fuck you. he cursed in dutch under his breath as he gave it a few more thrusts before he finished inside of you.

you both moaned a little louder than you hoped for. you leaned forward against him. your pressed your cheek against his clothed chest as you tried to catch your breath.

max composed himself quickly and combed his fingers through your hair tenderly. he groaned, "good, puppy."

you looked up at him and asked, "can i go to the party tonight?"

he chuckled and patted your cheek with a little force. he chuckled, "cute. no, no. you're going to get your messy panties back on and we're going back to the hotel. i'm not letting a good puppy like you get into trouble." he pinched your cheek which made you whine.

"plus, i think you need some more training."

-

the following morning, your teammate was walking through the paddock beside you. the two of you were chatting, but your stomach dropped when he looked over and noticed something over one of the boxes.

you two stopped and before your teammate could say a word. your teammate pointed at the headband. you felt a cold sweat as he asked, "are those... dog ears?" then looked at you, "those look like the ones you were supposed to wear to the party last night... you never came to that."

you chuckled nervously, "well, i got tired... but mine are in my hotel room." you heard whistling and looked over to see your team principal walking by. you called for max, "max, isn't my costume in my hotel room."

he perked up and looked over. he pointed to the headband on the box and replied, "oh no.. those are yours." your boss broke into a grin. and your eyes went wide as he walked away.

you could feel your ears burn as your teammate asked.

"where were you last night anyway?" <3

this is part of the max verstappen team principal au

[colleendoran]

Great Big Good Omens Graphic Novel Update

AKA A Visit From Bildad the Shuhite.

The past year or so has been one long visit from this guy, whereupon he smiteth my goats and burneth my crops, woe unto the woeful cartoonist.

Gaze upon the horror of Bildad the Shuhite.

You kind of have to be a Good Omens fan to get this joke, but trust me, it's hilarious.

Anyway, as a long time Good Omens novel fan, you may imagine how thrilled I was to get picked to adapt the graphic novel.

 Go me!  

This is quite a task, I have to say, especially since I was originally going to just draw (and color) it, but I ended up writing the adaptation as well. Tricky to fit a 400 page novel into a 160-ish page graphic novel, especially when so much of the humor is dependent on the language, and not necessarily on the visuals.

Not complainin', just sayin'.

Anyway, I started out the gate like a herd of turtles, because  right away I got COVID which knocked me on my butt. 

And COVID brain fog? That's a thing. I already struggle with brain fog due to autoimmune disease, and COVID made it worse.

Not complainin' just sayin'.

This set a few of the assignments on my plate back, which pushed starting Good Omens back. 

But hey, big fat lead time! No worries!

Then my computer crawled toward the grave.

My trusty MAC Pro Tower was nearly 15 years old when its sturdy heart ground to a near-halt with daily crashes. I finally got around to doing some diagnostics; some of its little brain actions were at 5% functionality. I had no reliable backups.

There are so many issues with getting a new computer when you haven't had a new computer or peripherals in nearly fifteen years and all of your software, including your Photoshop program is fifteen years old.

At the time, I was still on rural internet...which means dial-up speed.

Whatever you have for internet in the city, roll that clock back to about 2001.

That's what I had. I not only had to replace almost all of my hardware but I had to load and update all programs at dial-up speed.

Welcome to my gigabyte hell.

The entire process of replacing the equipment and programs took weeks and then I had to relearn all the software.

All of this was super expensive in terms of money and time cost.

But I was not daunted! Nosirree!

I still had a huge lead time! I can do anything! I have an iron will!

And boy, howdy, I was going to need it.

At about the same time, a big fatcat quadrillionaire client who had hired me years ago to develop a big, major transmedia project for which I was paid almost entirely in stock, went bankrupt leaving everyone holding the bag, and taking a huge chunk of my future retirement fund with it.

I wrote a very snarky almost hilarious Patreon post about it, but am not entirely in a position to speak freely because I don't want to get sued. Even though I had to go to court over it, (and I had to do that over Zoom at dial-up speed,) I'm pretty sure I'll never get anything out of this drama, and neither will anyone else involved, except millionaire dude and his buddies who all walked away with huge multi-million dollar bonuses weeks before they declared bankruptcy, all the while claiming they would not declare bankruptcy.

Even the accountant got $250,000 a month to shut down the business, while creators got nothing.

That in itself was enough drama for the year, but we were only at February by that point, and with all those months left, 2023 had a lot more to throw at me.

Fresh from my return from my Society of Illustrators show, and a lovely time at MOCCA, it was time to face practical medical issues, health updates, screening, and the like. I did my adult duty and then went back to work hoping for no news, but still had a weird feeling there would be news.

I know everyone says that, but I mean it. I had a bad feeling.

Then there was news.

I was called back for tests and more tests. This took weeks. The ubiquitous biopsy looked, even to me staring at the screen in real time, like bad news. 

It also hurt like a mofo after the anesthesia wore off. I wasn't expecting that.

Then I got the official bad news.

Cancer which runs in my family finally got me. Frankly, I was surprised I didn't get it sooner.

Stage 0, and treatment would likely be fast and complication-free. Face the peril, get it over with, and get back to work. 

I requested surgery months in the future so I could finish Good Omens first, but my doc convinced me the risk of waiting was too great. Get it done now.

"You're really healthy," my doc said. Despite an auto-immune issue which plagues me, I am way healthier than the average schmoe of late middle age. She informed me I would not even need any chemo or radiation if I took care of this now.

So I canceled my appearance at San Diego Comic Con. I did not inform the Good Omens team of my issues right away, thinking this would not interfere with my work schedule, but I did contact my agent to inform her of the issue. I also contacted a lawyer to rewrite my will and make sure the team had access to my digital files in case there were complications.

Then I got back to work, and hoped for the best.

Eff this guy.

Before I could even plant my carcass on the surgery table, I got a massive case of ocular shingles.

I didn't even know there was such a thing. 

There I was, minding my own business. I go to bed one night with a scratchy eye, and by 4 PM the next day, I was in the emergency room being told if I didn't get immediate specialist treatment, I was in big trouble.

I got transferred to another hospital and got all the scary details, with the extra horrid news that I could not possibly have cancer surgery until I was free of shingles, and if I did not follow a rather brutal treatment procedure - which meant super-painful  eye drops every half hour, twenty-four hours a day and daily hospital treatment - I could lose the eye entirely, or be blinded, or best case scenario, get permanent eye damage.

What was even funnier (yeah, hilarity) is the drops are so toxic if you don't use the medication just right, you can go blind anyway.

Hi Ho.

Ulcer is on the right. That big green blob.

I had just finished telling my cancer surgeon I did not even really care about getting cancer, was happy it was just stage zero, had no issues with scarring, wanted no reconstruction, all I cared about was my work. 

Just cut it out and get me back to work.

And now I wondered if I was going to lose my ability to work anyway.

Shingles often accompanies cancer because of the stress on the immune system, and yeah, it's not pretty. This is me looking like all heck after I started to get better.

The first couple of weeks were pretty demoralizing as I expected a straight trajectory to wellness. But it was up and down all the way. 

Some days I could not see out of either eye at all. The swelling was so bad that I had to reach around to my good eye to prop the lid open. Light sensitivity made seeing out of either eye almost impossible. Outdoors, even with sunglasses, I had to be led around by the hand.

I had an amazing doctor. I meticulously followed his instructions, and I think he was surprised I did. The treatment is really difficult, and if you don't do it just right no matter how painful it gets, you will be sorry. 

To my amazement, after about a month, my doctor informed me I had no vision loss in the eye at all. "This never happens," he said.

I'd spent a couple of weeks there trying to learn to draw in the near-dark with one eye, and in the end, I got all my sight back.

I could no longer wear contact lenses (I don't really wear them anyway, unless I'm going to the movies,) would need hard core sun protection for awhile, and the neuralgia and sun sensitivity were likely to linger. But I could get back to work.

I have never been more grateful in my life.

Neuralgia sucks, by the way, I'm still dealing with it months later.

Anyway, I decided to finally go ahead and tell the Good Omens team what was going on, especially since this was all happening around the time the Kickstarter was gearing up.

Now that I was sure I'd passed the eye peril, and my surgery for Stage 0 was going to be no big deal, I figured all was a go. I was still pretty uncomfortable and weak, and my ideal deadline was blown, but with the book not coming out for more than a year, all would be OK. I quit a bunch of jobs I had lined up to start after Good Omens, since the project was going to run far longer than I'd planned.

Everybody on the team was super-nice, and I was pretty optimistic at this time. But work was going pretty slow during, as you may imagine.

But again...lots of lead time still left, go me.

Then I finally got my surgery.

Which was not as happy an experience as I had been hoping for.

My family said the doc came out of the operating room looking like she'd been pulled backwards through a pipe, She informed them the tumor which looked tiny on the scan was "...huge and her insides are a mess."

Which was super not fun news.

Eff this guy.

The tumor was hiding behind some dense tissue and cysts. After more tests, it was determined I'd need another surgery and was going to have to get further treatments after all.

The biopsy had been really painful, but the discomfort was gone after about a week, so no biggee. The second surgery was, weirdly, not as painful as the biopsy, but the fatigue was big time.

By then, the Good Omens Kickstarter had about run its course, and the record-breaker was both gratifying and a source of immense social pressure.

I'd already turned most of my social media over to an assistant, and I'm glad I did.

But the next surgery was what really kicked me on my keister.

All in all, they took out an area the size of a baseball. It was  hard to move and wiped me out for weeks and weeks. I could not take care of myself. I'd begun losing hair by this time anyway, and finally just lopped it off since it was too heavy for me to care for myself. The cut hides the bald spots pretty well.

After about a month, I got the go-ahead to travel to my show at the San Diego Comic Con Museum (which is running until the first week of April, BTW). I was very happy I had enough energy to do it. But as soon as I got back, I had to return to treatment.

Since I live way out in the country, going into the city to various hospitals and pharmacies was a real challenge. I made more than 100 trips last year, and a drive to the compounding pharmacy which produced the specialist eye medicine I could not get anywhere else was six hours alone.

Naturally, I wasn't getting anything done during this time.

But at least my main hospital is super swank.

The oncology treatment went smoothly, until it didn't. The feels don't hit you until the end. By then I was flattened.

So flattened that I was too weak to control myself, fell over, and smashed my face into some equipment.

Nearly tore off my damn nostril.

Eff this guy.

Anyway, it was a bad year.

Here's what went right.

I have a good health insurance policy. The final tally on my health care costs ended up being about $150,000. I paid about 18% of that, including insurance. I had a high deductible and some experimental medicine insurance didn't cover. I had savings,  enough to cover the months I wasn't working, and my Patreon is also very supportive. So you didn't see me running a Gofundme or anything.

Thanks to everyone who ever bought one of my books.

No, none of that money was Good Omens Kickstarter money. I won't get most of my pay on that for months, which is just as well because it kept my taxes lower last year when I needed a break.

So, yay.

My nose is nearly healed. I opted out of plastic surgery, and it just sealed up by itself. I'll never be ready for my closeup, but who the hell cares.

I got to ring the bell.

I had a very, VERY hard time getting back to work, especially with regard to focus and concentration. My work hours dropped by over 2/3. I was so fractured and weak, time kept slipping away while I sat in the studio like a zombie. Most of the last six months were a wash.

I assumed focus issues were due (in part) to stress, so sought counseling. This seemed like a good idea at first, but when the counselor asked me to detail my issues with anxiety, I spent two weeks doing just that and getting way more anxious, which was not helpful.

After that I went EFF THIS NOISE, I want practical tools, not touchy feelies (no judgment on people who need touchy-feelies, I need a pragmatic solution and I need it now,) so tried using the body doubling focus group technique for concentration and deep work.

Within two weeks, I returned to normal work hours.

I got rural broadband, jumping me from dial up speed to 1 GB per second.

It's a miracle.

Massive doses of Vitamin D3 and K2. Yay.

The new computer works great.

The Kickstarter did so well, we got to expand the graphic novel to 200 pages. Double yay.

I'm running late, but everyone on the Good Omens team is super supportive. I don't know if I am going to make the book late or not, but if I do, well, it surely wasn't on purpose, and it won't be super late anyway. I still have months of lead time left.

I used to be something of a social media addict, but now I hardly ever even look at it, haven't been directly on some sites in over a year, and no longer miss it. It used to seem important and now doesn't.

More time for real life.

While I think the last year aged me about twenty years, I actually like me better with short hair. I'm keeping it.

OK. Rough year. 

Not complainin', just sayin'.

Back to work on The Book.

And only a day left to vote for Good Omens, Neil Gaiman, and Sandman in the Comicscene Awards. Thanks. 

[strangersteddierthings]

Here's a lil idea that I simply do not have the time to make a full fic of, but I gotta get it out or it won't leave me alone.

Steve thinks he's in a happy, fulfilling relationship with Eddie, while Eddie's insecurities have him believing he's just a place holder for the future Mrs. Harrington.

It comes to light when Steve does something cheesy and romantic and Eddie, not able to handle it because it's too romantic, tries to joke about it like "why would you bother to put all this effort in just for me?"

And Steve like "what do you mean? You're my boyfriend and I wanted to"

And then Eddie like "yeah, no, I know that. I just don't understand why." And then he goes on a little self-deprecating rant, explaining all the ways he's not good enough for Steve, all while Steve just stares at him, brow furrowing more and more as Eddie speaks.

When Eddie finally runs out of words, Steve says, "I don't understand? What have I done to make you think this?"

And Eddie kinda blue screens. Because Steve hasn't done anything to make Eddie think this; he's been a perfect boyfriend. It's just... it's inevitable, isn't it? That Steve'll move onto to bigger, better things? Eddie says as much.

"Why?"

"Because it's- because you're Steve Harrington!"

Since Steve's brow can't possibly furrow anymore, he starts to frown now. "I still don't understand?? Why did- do you think I'm just going to be going through the checkout at Melvald's and just decide I want to marry some random woman instead of being with you?"

"What? No. It's not- I don't think you'll intentionally decide you want someone else more just randomly but, like..."

"There's no 'but' here, Eds. I asked you out because I want to be with you. You said yes because, I assume, you want to be with me, too! Was I wrong to assume-"

"NO! No! I do want to be with you!"

"Then.... you think I don't want to be with you?"

"I didn't say that."

"Sorry, it felt like you were implying it. So. If I haven't done anything to make you think I don't want to be with you, and you just said you want to be with me, then what... I don't understand where these thoughts have come from. Have you- were you just going to go through our whole relationship waiting for something bad to happen?"

And Eddie can just look down and shrug because, well, yeah. He had been thinking that. He has been waiting for the other shoe to drop. And now they're having this conversation and he's ruined Steve's sweet, romantic gesture with his own bullshit. So, even if the shoe wasn't going to drop before, it will now, because he's gone and fucked it up by putting his insecurities onto Steve and-

"What can I do to help you believe I'm in it, for as long as you want me?"

Eddie looks back to Steve then, because that's not what he expected to hear. "What?"

Steve steps closer, the furrowed brow and the frown gone, replacing it instead is the sappy look he catches on Steve's face every now and then, when Eddie's doing something particularly Eddie-ish. "Tell me what I can do to help you believe in this. In us. And I'll do it. Every day until we die."

"Steve," Eddie warbles out, surprised by his own watery voice. "I-I'm sorry. I-"

"Hush," Steve says, gentle and sure as he takes Eddie's face in his hands. "No apologies. I get it, so you don't have to apologize. Just. Talk to me, okay? Because I'm not holding out for something better. Not when you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. Besides Robin."

"Besides Robin," Eddie agrees, nodding his head as much as he can in Steve's grasp. "But, uh, things like this. This helps." He gestures at the romantic candle-lite dinner slowly getting cold. There are flowers in a vase, and a cheesy little Garfield plushie sitting on the table, leaned against Eddie's wine glass. It's a Tuesday night in June and nowhere near a birthday, or holiday, or anniversary. Steve's just made him a sweet, romantic dinner just because.

"Oh good. You have no idea how much I'm restraining myself by not doing this weekly," Steve whispers before placing a kiss to Eddie's forehead, nose, then lips. "Now. Let's eat dinner before it gets too cold."

And it might take a while, for Eddie's insecurities to fade, but Steve keeps being Steve, which means perfect if not a little snarky, and then the next thing Eddie knows, it's been several decades and Steve will walk with him hand in hand to the courthouse and stand in line for hours to quickly get married. (They'll spend another two years planning the actual wedding because Eddie's dramatic and Steve's a perfectionist.)

[jinxvex]

can we get jinx w a very doting gf :3

♱ gf!jinx x doting (affectionate)!reader ♱

yes!! i love this request! 🖤 oneshot vibes fr!

cw: a bit angsty at first, little snippets of act 1/season 2,SFW & NSFW!!!, smutty drabble at the end, jinx pushes you into a wall once, you're very affectionate (obv), kissing, hugging, dirty talk, tribbing, praise, dom-ish!jinx & sub!reader, etc etc

wc: 1.4K

jinx had nothing; no one.

not after the her attack on piltover.

her unhinged, yet powerful act of rebellion ultimately caused a war between the city of progress and the dangerous underground city of zaun.

and had forced her into hiding…

i mean, what was worse? being caught by the stuck-up, zaunite-hating, piltie goons who murdered her mother and father or being alone?

she often contemplated that question.

she contemplated her future.

was any of it worth it now that her sister wanted nothing to do with her? now that she’s laid her adoptive father to rest in the contaminated murky river? now that she has a bounty on her head?

she wasn’t sure.

she wasn’t sure if anyone even gave a damn about her or whether she lived or died.

“it’s all just… pointless!” she replayed on a loop in her head, the place that has always been too loud and too daunting for her comfort.

jinx was alone.

well, until she met you.

as jinx sneakily roamed the dark and dingy alleyways of zaun in her not-so-discreet disguise, she was met with (almost) complete and utter silence. which casts an eerie feeling of unfamiliarity within her bones.

the lively (although still dangerous) streets of zaun were usually bustling with people. drunks, shimmer addicts, salesmen, crooks, and goons alike typically overcrowd every inch of the sunken city, which used to allow her to go wherever she pleased without anyone noticing her.

since the enforcers started raiding the city and imprisoning the people of zaun, a petty punishment for her own wrongdoings, many zaunites didn’t feel safe. they opted to stay inside, shut themselves out, and draw the blinds closed to prevent them from being taken too.

as jinx continues to walk towards her destination, “home”, a wave of loneliness washes over her, a feeling she so desperately had attempted to rid herself of for years.

she isn’t inclined to speak, though. not out loud to empty space or to the voices. maybe she’d save that for home.

as her head is angled downwards, looking at her dragging feet, she turns another corner in order to make her way back to her humble abode.

and all of a sudden, she bumps into a hard, human-shaped object? as she backs up menacingly after plummeting into something, she slowly brings her head up and is met with the sight of… you.

“a girl?” she exclaims in her head.

“a pretty one.”

“does she live near here?”

“wait! does she know who i am?”

“is she here to kill me? take me away?”

“no. no! i can’t let her.”

“not now…”

“damn it!”

her thoughts overflow with endless possibilities and scenarios that cause her to grip your shoulders and harshly back you up into the hard surface of a cement building without warning.

you gasp loudly, but as you bring your hands up to fight back and protect yourself from whatever is about to come, your moments are suddenly still.

as you look into her pinkish, vibrant eyes, you’re met with fear. you’re met with anger, loneliness, and suffering, which prompt you to freeze. her face is littered with fresh cuts, scrapes, and scars. your heart squeezes in empathy as you look into each other's eyes—jinx not even having the energy to reach for her gun out of concern for herself.

“you’re hurt.” you mutter softly. your caring nature immediately wanting to help her. jinx. and yes, you know of her. that doesn’t matter to you now.

her eyes still gaze into yours, even as she removes her hands from your shoulders.

“yeah, tell me ‘bout it, sweetness.” she laughs almost mockingly, not towards you, but at herself.

“want me to clean that up?” you point your chin up at the wounds on her face.

she blinks at you incredulously before allowing a smirk to grace her features for the first time in what seems like forever.

“damn! take a girl out to dinner first, babe.”

you smile.

… ( mini time skip!! a couple months)

jinx wasn't used to physical and emotional affection. love. let alone romantic gestures. silco looked after her but struggled to give the affection a parent would once he took her in all those years ago.

at first, she was incredibly taken aback by your willingness to help her even though you knew who she was. you knew who she was and still allowed her to lead you back to her workshop to patch her up. after that day, spent cleaning her wounds, you never left.

she was enamored by you.

by your ability to love.

you were moderately affectionate in the beginning, but as the weeks passed, your excessive praise and doting intensified. at first, it was lingering touches on her face after you insisted on "checking" her facial bandages. then it was moving her hair out of her face and caressing the sides of her head when she's in an episode.

once you started coming up behind her as she was working on her gadgets to link your arms around her waist and lay your head on her shoulder, she was hooked on you.

she did initially flinch and curl out of your touch, but as she took in your scent and realized it was you, she relaxed. she accepted you.

...

"just me!" you exclaim happily as you nudge your face into her neck, and she softly gasps when you give her small, gentle pecks.

"hmmph! you're too sweet to me, buttercup! scares me sometimes..." she fluctuates the tone of her voice from happy to unsure and back to happy again.

one thing she is sure of, though, is her love for you.

as you peer up at her from the side of her neck, you tighten your arms around her, "you deserve it. all the hugs, kisses and love!"

you both never felt a need to verbally establish a label on your relationship.

the night you took each other's first kiss, there was a mutual understanding. you were hers, and she was yours.

when she's with you, the voices quiet, and the visions aren't as prevalent anymore. she feels safe. not just because she's in hiding, still successfully dodging piltover, but because you're there.

although that is the case, you still make her crazy for you.

your unconditional affection ignites a fire inside her that loving you could only put out.

...(nsfw incoming!!)

"s-shit, babe! fuck!" her voice echoes throughout the seemingly endless depths of her workshop as she circles her hips and drags her wet cunt against yours.

your moans and little "oh my g-god!'s" adding to the music that is your pussies grinding together to make filthy sloshing noises.

"fuckin' pussy is so so good, bunny! pl-eease!" she begs you, although she's the one above you, her hand pushing one of your legs up to rest on her shoulder and her other hand pressing your leg down onto the couch. her ass is perched on your upper thigh to allow her to buck her hips up into your cunt as close as she possibly can.

"yes! yes! more, baby! you feel so good!" you babble as you lay back, looking up at her through your eyelashes. she's sitting right side up as she continues to hump your cunt with her eyes glued shut in concentration.

she can feel every pulse, every throb of your heat as she chases her high, and it affects her deeply.

"you're perfect, y-you know that?" you question. "fucking perfect. i love you so much!" she almost stills. that "perfect" word causes her heart to beat out her chest. she slows down slightly as she opens her eyes and looks down at you, looking back at her lovingly.

now inspired by your praise, she then speeds up, even faster and rougher than before.

"yeah? yeah? 'm perfect, baby? you loveee me?" she asks you mockingly as she stares into your eyes.

"yes! you feel so good. so perfect! fuckin' love you! need ta' cum! you scream out.

"mhm! thought so. then show me how good you're feelin' and cum all over me." she demands of you. "make a mess on this pussy, toots."

she lets out a "give me that shit, baby" and a "need my sweet girl to cum, so fuckin' nice to this pussy" to urge you on.

"fu-uck! right there! i'm cumming!"

"shit, me too!"

...

as you both come down from your high, she eventually lets your leg down and sits you upright to hug you tightly.

she feels so appreciated, so loved in the moment that she cups your jaw with her shaky hands and kisses you hard.

"i love you, hon. you're so..."

"i love you too, pow."

...

and y'all live happily ever after, and the events of act 3 NEVERRR happen!!! 😜🥳‼️

[justasecretflower]

🥀- dating Eyeless Jack! Before! He was sacrificed

Synopsis- dating eyeless Jack when he was a human in college.

College! Au

~fluff

___________________________________________

- You guys met on the college campus, started talking and realized you couldn’t stop talking. So you exchanged numbers before you ran to your class:).

-You clicked immediately, he mainly listened to your stories and put in his two cents throughout the story, and some questions.

- eventually, he ended up opening up to you, and you’d call everyday. Even in silence while he studied and you took a short nap.

- he intertwines your fingers and kisses your knuckles🤍

- the way he looks as a human, deep blue eyes, chestnut brown hair medium ish length and ivory skin. He’s not too tall but not short, like 5’9.

- in the quiet of his dorm, while his roommates away partying or getting laid somewhere he holds you in his arms and kisses your forehead. Soaking in your soft embrace and your breathing synchronized.

- he gets you coffees in the morning with a little handwritten note with a heart or him complimenting you.

- he dreams about his future life with you, as cheesy as it sounds. A quiet, historical home near a small pond and the forest, a little garden and some little ones running around while you hold his hand with your huge diamond on your ring finger.

-of course, we all know what he ends up as but that’s not relevant.

- play with his hair😔

- “how was your day?” “Tell me everything” “tell me about that new video game you like.”

-he’s such a great listener.

- he teaches you some random medical facts just for fun, which ends up with him going on an hour long rant.

- tells his mom about you.

- whenever he looks at you his eyes visibly soften.

- stargazing dates.

- “love”

- actually so sarcastic it’s really funny.

- doesn’t get jealous easily. He doesn’t doubt your love or loyalty

- gives you his hoodies. They smell soft and clean.

___________________________________________

You seem lost… visit my garden?

I love college boy Jack

I NEED REQUESTS😔💔

Tags

[celaenaeiln]

i once saw a post saying something like that was like, out of dick, jason, and tim, dick should be the one traveling the world as he just feels like a free spirit, jason should be the one staying in gotham as he’s the one whose goal was always to help gotham citizens, and tim should be the one getting his own city so he can step out of the shadow of batman and robin. what are your thoughts on that?

I totally see where they're coming from because I used to think that way too. I still sort of do but some things have changed.

Let's start off with the first one -

"dick should be the one traveling the world as he just feels like a free spirit"

They're very right because this 'free-spirit' trait of his is actually explored in the comics. Like Dick!bats and Barbara actually have a full on discussion of this:

Detective Comics (1937) Issue #872

And this isn't the first time either! Dick LOVES travelling, he can't stay in one place. Actually, in one alternate version of the future, Tim gets mad at Dick because he decides to leave gotham after Bruce dies and Tim wanted Dick to stay as Batman.

After bruce dies, things continue on as always but they don't. Like we know in the brief time that Bruce was lost in time, Dick was forced to become Batman. But we also know that he hated it. But that was temporary right? In the future, Bruce officially died. And Dick HAD to be Batman forever. And he tried but Dick, ONCE AGAIN, HATES being Batman but the bigger issue is, he refuses to be chained down and the batsuit was a suffocating mantle of darkness. A coffin in a costume for him. So guess who becomes Batman in that future? Tim.

Tim becomes this evil-ish Batman in Dick's place. In the detective comcis, Tim meets his Batman self. He's shocked because like Dick, HE doesn't want to be Batman either. People who really understand the weight of the legacy don't ever want to be it. But this is what Future Evil Batman Tim says this to the current Tim:

Detective Comics (2016) Issue #966

Dick is always bouncing from place to place - New York, Chicago, Bludhaven, Gotham, outer space, different cities - he's all over the place. So it sees irrefutable that he shouldn't be tied to once city right?

Well, that person is so right. Because he isn't.

The only reason Dick has stabilized in Bludhaven, is because he's not settled down at all!!

The detective comics and villains address this too!!

Detective Comics (2016) Issue #1039

Like forget the titans for a sec, the villains are so aware of the effect Batman has on Nightwing and Nightwing has on Batman.

but no, the point is. Dick isn't tied down to Bludhaven because Bruce always drags him back to Gotham!

Gotham Knights Issue #1

The New Titans (1988) Issue #61

Dick literally turns back to Gotham in the middle of his way out because Bruce needs him but also Bruce calls him back! He contacts Titans Tower in MANHATTAN, NEW YORK to tell Dick that he needs his help in GOTHAM, NEW JERSEY.

Not only that, but Dick is constantly working with the titans while he's fighting crime in Bludhaven. Titans (1999) while also in Bludhaven and Gotham

The Titans (1999) Issue #14

The Titans (1999) Issue #3

He's literally running in and rushing to switch uniforms from being an officer in Bludhaven to being Nightwing in New York.

But main point with all this, is that Dick is 100% a free soul and his lifestyle now, as Nightwing, allows him to still be that. Bludhaven is his base of operations, his crownpiece, but the reason Dick doesn't feel restricted is because he's still EVERYWHERE. Those boots are continuously flying. He's not stationed there in bludhaven like Bruce is stationed in Gotham.

His need to travel the world is satisfied through his Titans involvement. And another reason why Dick can't be traveling to like China and Brazil constantly is because Bruce needs him. He's Bruce's second in command and confidant. So Bludhaven is the sweet balance between staying near enough to Bruce while being separate and the Titans are his way of flying free since they're fighting all over the world.

The only feasible way for him to travel the world as Nightwing as a lifestyle choice is to cut ties with bruce which he definitely won't be doing because Bruce is his crutch -meant both positively and negatively. (Privately, I agree with the person who said that quote tho even if Dick refuses to choose it).

"jason should be the one staying in gotham as he’s the one whose goal was always to help gotham citizens"

100% agree. Jason was born in gotham, raised in gotham, and died in Gotham. And made his comeback in gotham.

Suddenly he's in the middle of buttfuck nowhere fighting crime? Are you kidding me, DC? This boy, WHO LITERALLY FOUGHT BRUCE OVER BEING MORE CONCERNED ABOUT THE CITIZENS THAN BRUCE WAS-

Batman (1940) Issue #645

Nightwing (2016) Annual 2021

Batman (1940) Issue #422

Batman (1940) Issue #635

-all this and he suddenly abandons his raison d'être to fight crime in who knows where???

At the very least, I'm glad DC brought him back and stationed him in Gotham.

The only thing I would change about their statement is 'his goal is helping gotham citizens' to 'gotham women and kids'. My bro has no qualms about killing the men of gotham and this is also a very important distinction between him and Bruce.

Bruce cares about all of Gotham but his focus is on keeping Gotham functioning. While loss weighs heavily on his soul, a 50 year old man is the same as 32 year old woman in his eyes. His goal behind creating batman was to become a symbol of hope - that even if it seems like there's no one coming to help, there is actually one person who is there on the look out.

Jason's ideology is more effective because he has a certain target he pursues. His cases are likely those that target specifically women and kids where as Bruce's cases are just about anyone.

But the reason I'm bringing up Bruce, is because it relates to Tim.

"tim should be the one getting his own city so he can step out of the shadow of batman and robin."

I disagree. Tim should be stationed in Gotham because out of all the Batkids, he is the one that is most alike to Bruce in his ideology of Batman.

Tim has EVERY RIGHT to Gotham as much as Bruce and Jason. He, like both of them, was born and raised in Gotham his whole life.

Just like how Bruce's KNOWN for representing Gotham and being Gotham's hero, Tim has the exact same life circumstance as Bruce. He, like Bruce, was born and raised rich. He and Bruce are well-used to navigating the upperclass social circles or Gotham. Both of them went to school in Gotham until college.

So what if Tim was born rich. Just because Jason was born poor and knows the dark side of Gotham, it means that Tim doesn't? Tim's background is identical to Bruce's. Bruce Wayne - Batman - is known as Gotham's hero like Red Hood is known as Gotham's antihero. This is whole life! Like where is he gonna go?

Tim LOVES Gotham as much as Bruce does. When Tim became Robin, he became Robin not because he particularily cared for the well-being of the man under the mask, but because Batman's reckless state was affecting the city.

His story is literally how he was obsessed with dick and thus found out the identity of Batman and Robin and he wants Dick to become Bruce's Robin again because Dick healed bruce's mind in a way that Batman's behavior was reflected in his action on the city.

Batman (1940) Issue #441

Listen to his selling to Bruce why Batman needs a Robin-

Batman (1940) Issue #442

"I don't know why you decide to wear that costume-- but it makes you a symbol....And this isn't just a symbol of the law, it's a symbol of Justice. When one policeman is killed, others take his place because justice can't be stopped."

Tim loves Gotham. His reason for becoming robin was because Batman was a symbol of Justice. With the symbol of Justice out of commission, the crime in his city runs rampant.

When Bruce is lost in time, Tim begs Dick to become Batman because his city needs it.

Battle for the Cowl Issue #1

I hit the image limit but Tim gives up on asking Dick and decides to become Batman himself. At this time Jason is acting as a murderous Batman but Tim knows that the city cannot continue with Jason as Batman because the symbol of Justice playing killing and playing favorites? The man would end Gotham in blood battle and none of his actions are anything like Batman's which is what Tim's getting at.

So the main point in all this is, Tim will do anything for Gotham. His thoughts about this in Detective Comics (2016) Issue #966 where he's evil Batman in the future is also explored deeper and he talks about all the things he's done to the current Tim. In the future, he implies that he kills Damian who acts as batman because Damian runs the city into the ground with his actions and current Tim is horrified, calling him a monster.

Detective Comics (2016) Issue #966

Tim might love Gotham more than Bruce does and Bruce is known for it.

So Tim should absolutely not leave and set up station in another city.

Tim should also continue being Robin because he was made for it. Tim, more than anyone, understand what Robin means. Dick created the symbol and personlity and dynamic Robin should have. The thing is, he and Bruce have an inherent bond. Like, something about them just clicked. Bruce loved Dick's hope, thoughtfulness, and personality. They meshed into something inseparable. But Dick didn't actively think about any of his actions having a consequence on bruce when he was Robin. He was just doing his own thing, being his own person, and Bruce really loved him for who he was. No one expected that he would leave Robin one day or that there would be a second Robin.

And this is where Jason comes in. In the comics, Bruce actually tells jason when he becomes Robin that because he is taking the mantle of someone else, everything he does as Robin will always be tied to the mantle the first person created - the good and the bad.

He essentially proceeds to tell Jason that you will never be your own person when your wearing this symbol because you're merely inheriting the legacy of someone else. This is made worse than usual by the fact that you're wearing a mask.

So Jason internalizes this, but so does Bruce. Bruce wanted Jason to be Dick and was disappointed in his actions when he proves to be otherwise and this is what Alfred talks about in the Batman comics.

Now, while Jason internalized this and fought it, Tim reveled in it. He knew exactly what it meant to be wearing Dick's symbol on his chest which is why he gets hurt by Damian's replacement and grateful that Dick made him robin. His thoughts on this are explored in the Red Robin comics where he talks about how he adores Dick and Bruce.

This is also why Tim consistently talks about how Dick is the best robin (Batman/Catwoman: The Gotham War: Scorched Earth and Robin 80th Anniversary 100-Page Super Spectacular #1). And also what he's talking about when he says Robin is a symbol-

Just like how Batman is known to be the dark avenger, Robin is known to be batman's light-hearted partner. The counter-balance. Because this is the dynamic Dick inadvertently created with Bruce.

Because every time a robin, as Tim understands it, steps into his suit and mantle, they are emulating Dick. Which is why Dick is the best Robin in Tim's eyes because not only can no one be Dick, but also Dick exceeded in his responsibility as Bruce's counterweight. To be his partner. (Nightwing 1996 Issue 6).

(On the flipside, Dick think Tim is the best robin. These two <33).

But anyway, Tim deserves to be Robin because he's aware of the meaning more than anyone else. I cannot think of anyone more fitting than Tim to be Batman's robin. To understand the weight of the legacy and to serve the city he loves? He told Dick that he dreamed of being Robin when he was just a civilian watching him and Bruce. Tim should absolutely stay as Robin.

I love Damian, I really, really do but Damian was Dick's robin. His whole breaking free of Batman thing after Alfred's death was proof of that. If there must only be one robin, I believe it should continue being Tim because Damian, based on his thoughts, should grow into a new identity. Because for Damian, being Robin doesn't mean anything in the sense of being Bruce!Batman's partner. They don't mesh. He did specifically for Dick. Something about the cheery/patient-sassy/grumpy dynamic. It doesn't work when both Batman and Robin were both grumpy. But since Dick is Nightwing, I think DC should create a new identity for Dami. I still believe he should still be Batman though and I do like him as Robin but if I really had to choose, Tim was created to be Robin. He understands.

[roses-r-rosie3]

Best Friend’s Brother

Jason Todd x M!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, implied smut, crack-ish

Summary: Jason meets Roy’s brother (the reader) and they start dating

Quote: “OH MY GOD STOP TEXTING Y/N AND GO TO SLEEP!”

✁ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You and Jason first met when your brother, Roy, invited you to hangout at his place. Jason knew that Roy had a brother, but he had never seen you up until that point. You however, haven’t heard of Jason at all. Needless to say you were immediately mesmerized when you first saw Jason.

“Roy never told me he had such hot friends” you flirted.

“And Roy never told me how hot his brother was” Jason replied.

“Ew, Go get a room” Roy Fake-gagged.

Needless to say, you both ended up getting each other’s number by the end of the night. You two texted the whole night. Roy could hear Jason giggling and chuckling through the walls.

“OH MY GOD STOP TEXTING Y/N AND GO TO SLEEP!” Roy yelled out.

Little would Roy know, he would have deal with more of that in the future.

While texting you, Jason found out that you were also a vigilante going under the name ‘Arrowhead’. You still vividly remember Roy making fun of you when you picked out that name (he still does).

Fast forward a few weeks and you and Jason went on your first date and started dating shortly after that. As much as Roy pretended to not be a fan, he secretly (not so secretly) supported the both of you.

After the two of you got together, you had lots of dates with Jason. Some of them at a restaurant, some of them at amusement parks, some of them at museums, but a lot of them were at Jason and Roy’s apartment. Even though your dates would sometime be interrupted by Roy accidentally walking inside, it was always something special.

While we’re on the topic of Roy accidentally walking in on things, he has walked in on you and Jason making out on Jason’s bed countless times, even to the point where Roy doesn’t even try to act surprised anymore.

You also started going on missions with them. Jason had never seen you in your vigilante costume up until that moment. But when he did, he quickly pulled you in a random alleyway… and.. let’s just say you both had to give your suit a deep clean after that.

What Jason also noticed though, was that you were extremely skilled with a bow and arrow, dare he say maybe even better than Roy. And oh boy, as soon as Jason even mentioned your skills to Roy, Roy would immediately tell embarrassing stories about you.

“Hey y/n said that-”

“Oh he thinks he’s mr perfect? Did you know that when we were little he used to be so scared of bunnies that if u even held one near him he would start pissing his pants?! HA! SUCK IT!” Roy blurted out.

“ROY!” You shouted.

“Uhhh.. I was just going to tell you that y/n said he made dinner” Jason said.

“Oh… ignore what I said!” Roy laughed nervously.

[s-4pphics]

moth. (e.w.)

Protected by the Crest. Guarded by light. 

𝓟𝓡𝓞𝓛𝓞𝓖𝓤𝓔

SYNOPSIS: knights of the devil, you all are to be conquered. 

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

WARNINGS: vampire!ellie, vampirekiller!oc, a lot to come FUCK, violence… so blood(drinking), death, murder, gore, suicide, religion briefly, cult-ish bindings, ellie's coven is so cunt, mentions of witchcraft, future tags: hypnosis, abducting, crazy smut

teaser.

1927

Dawn. Combat. Nightfall. Rest. 

Dawn. Combat. Nightfall. Rest. 

The cycle formed over the last decade has revolutionized you. It is all you know; the only remainder of solace you have in this dastard domain. The older you've grown, the more burials you attend. For strangers, for comrades. For children who have been brutalized and left to rot like swine. All enacted by the Devils that lurk in darkness. Radicalization overcame your senses; first writhed beneath your bones at the age of thirteen when intent to kill the Earth’s torturers flourished within you. Welcomed your stout standing with an offered, sharply angled wood. You have read. You have fought. You have been scarred and beaten bloody by the Overseers; suffered numerous nights of unrest due to the wails of your comrades under their scrutiny. 

Another burial, another Overseer. A prime Hunter that controls your underground dominion, trapped trenches below civilization that beam with only candlelight and the creeping rays of the flaming sun.

Protected by the Crest. Guarded by light. 

The lines you march alongside your comrades are congruous; heads covered with black hoods, dozens of silver-soled heels echoing against the tunnel walls. Not one Hunter out of place. Gruesome symmetry. The narrow halls of the tunnel spread into a perfect sphere near its end. Hunters due their promotion disperse along the widening space, encircling the flaming Crest in the center of the chamber. Both rows of teeth are inseparable; a dull ache in your jaw. 

Your heartbeat is reminiscent of drums. Each step is calculated. A second of delay, and… your brain cannot fathom the consequences. 

Rows of comrades enclose and tighten, standing strong before the risen floors where the Overseers inspect their battalion, hoods removed and insignia burning through their black capes. You sneak glances at them despite the rules of a downcast gaze in their presence; no longer than a second. Their years of battle have overtaken their appearance; gray drapes of wool that cascade their shoulders, creases by the eyes and mouth, hands that tremor. 

“Rise.” 

Necks crane until straightened. Palms raise for the Uncovering, hoods pushed until they lay flat at the peak of spines. The first time your heads have seen the unnatural light of the underground. Your Overseer from your recruitment has been replaced with anew; woman, tall and eyes as kind as a doe, but just as ruthless, just as conniving as he. Her lips spread around her white teeth, somehow more venomous than the ghouls that taunt the lands. 

“Welcome to the commencement of our Prodigies.” 

Despite you being only three rows from the raised platform, the Overseer sounds miles away. The rushing in your ears; the thumping in your chest is intruding. 

“You are all here to be recognized for your efforts. You should be proud of choosing the path of righteousness. Your dedication does not go unnoticed, and today marks the finality of your attainment.” 

“We bless you all with our thanks. For this night embarks society’s next generation of Hunters. You have all accepted your duty as a protector. A leader. A virtuous soldier for our Lord.” 

“The battle against Demons will be unkind… Many will be lost, but after years of sacrifice, use this night as a celebration of your bravery…” 

Silence. Then a seized breath. Faulting from an Overseer is unforeseen. 

“It may be your last chance to witness a night of peace… Of unity.” 

Her sudden somber timbre jostles your comrades, backs stiffened under their cloaks. Empathy: considered a display of weakness from your leaders. 

The winds of the tunnel shifted, aimed to suffocate. 

“Live as kings for this last night. Eat, drink… dance if you must. Because come dawn, you will abandon comfort, and return to the higher lands where anguish awaits.” 

One overseer, the man closest to the orator, extends a black, velvet pillow to her. A silver chain dangles from her wrinkled hands; a Hunters pendant, bordering a lit flame. 

“As the world’s Hunters, you will be honored with our sanctuary’s Crest. This will be your protection against the Lustful… They have demonstrated a great deal of power as they develop… Their spread is alarming… To even us.” 

“Do not fall victim to their allure. Their only desire is our demise. Deceit is their only weapon… But it will never compare to the light in your hearts.” 

Rumors have spread through the training grounds; ones of Hunters, Overseers, being blinded by their darkest desires. Controlled by the Devil’s knights to turn against each other. Entranced by pleasure, by riches. By immortality. Their desperation of becoming the rulers of society, tyrants of the land, past the seas… Brought them to their end. Many believed they were created to birth disarray — distrust between comrades. You, still, are not sure what to believe. 

“… All of your souls are blessed… Even in death.” 

Your palm rests over your pounding heart in oath recitation, promising to die for the cause of freedom. For humanity. The remainder of the ceremony hazes as cloaked patrons emerge from the depths of the cave as the Overseers disperse, dressing prideful Hunters with their pendants. They hang perfectly at the center of the sternum, the flames roaring the closer it lays to the heart. 

Your eyes do not wither from the ground, even with the silver shoes before you that penetrate the dirt. An Overseer is not often chosen to promote a Hunter, but she — the orator — blesses you. The heft of your pendant weighs heavy on your shoulders. You sigh a breath of relief at the glow behind metal. 

“Protected by the Crest. Guarded by light.” You say, dismissing your shock with a hand on your chest.

“Guarded, you are…” 

Her declaration is barely a whisper. She pauses, trembling pupils entangled with the glow of your chain, hypnotized by its glimmer. 

“Child.” 

You remain indifferent at her condemnation, against the gulp from your throat. She inspects your stance with the strength of a stalking lion before vanishing, cape gusting up dryness from below. 

“Someone’s special.” 

A hushed snark airs from behind you. Made to be a laughingstock for your comrades once again. But you are not 13. All naivety has been torn from your consciousness, and your vacancies are filled with revenge. 

The cave, for the first time since your recruitment, is undisciplined. Bass from the celebratory drums. Laughter… Laughter from your comrades, Overseers, patrons you recall from passing as they cheers with the finest wine. Intimidation and constraint are no longer. And still, you take no part in true fellowship. Jollity is forbidden. Leisure is forbidden. Benevolence is forbidden. You, and others amongst —children— were trained to hunt. To slain those who left the world in shatters. A morphed weapon of justice.

A laid hand on your shoulder makes you jolt, left frozen when you're met with the orator from the commencement. 

Come, she whispers, and you follow her path through the tunnels of the cave. She retrieves a lantern from the cavity floors and leads you to its corners, deep and untouched. Never once have you seen an Overseer smile, but she is. A pitiful one. 

“Why do you worry, Child?” 

“I do not worry,” You bite more than needed, “And I am not a child.” 

She takes no offense, “Pardon me. Why do you worry, Hunter?” Her tone is mocking, and your blood churns. 

One slip of tongue could earn a blade in your chest. You self-soothe with the foggy air expanding in your lungs. Your agitation calms, only briefly. 

“I do not worry,” Easier on the ears, “I am believed to be more than prepared—“

“There is no preparation against the Devils.” The hiss of a viper, her mouth turned down in dissatisfaction of your attitude. Your brows pinch. 

“Why have you brought me here?” 

Her chest rises and falls and her hands interlock. 

“Do you know your history, Hunter?” 

“It is all I’ve ever known, Master.” You retort with similar irreverence.

“Not the history of the Devils, you imbecile. You. Do you know of your lineage?” 

Your head rattles, “Surely not… A-All outside knowledge of history is forbidden. That is all we’ve ever been taught—“

“Shame on your mother for leaving you useless.” 

Her slander resonates through the tunnel and your conscience dissolves. The blade you always wield in your sheath presses against the throat of your superior, indented around the aged skin.

“I did not follow you to be defamed,” You rebuke with bared teeth, “Do not speak of my mother.” 

“What spirit…” Others would not blink twice at the mention of their family, dead or alive. 

“The Devils starve, Child.” She whispers. 

“What.” 

“They starve… Desperation grows within them as they migrate. They kill anything they can.” Distress grows in her face as she blathers. “Black magic. I have seen its bounds before my eyes. They have tormented and feasted on the blood of your ancestors! The controller of all Devils… She waits to enslave the last of your name—“

“I HAVE NO NAME!” 

Why must she lie? Why are you only hearing of this now? She lies. A shout that cracks through the underground. 

“Your lineage is most susceptible to the curse! You…” 

Tears hang from your lashes before splintering your cheeks. Panic-struck heaves hit your leader’s, her flyways brushing against her nose.

“They’ll torture you, Child.”

Sympathy. Survival. There is no difference. 

“What does it matter?” You whisper painfully, and your blade drops to your side, weeps unmasked. “So many have died before me. I-I do—“

“Your mother was one of us.”

Her wails are quiet and urgent.

“Ask… pray for her guidance.” 

“Mas—“

The Overseer advantages the weakness of your wrist; snags your blade from between your fingertips and glides the edge across her jugular, maroon coating her hands as she chokes on her own blood, her eyes glazing as she slides down the wall. You holler, knees weakening when her gargling form collapses into your arms. Life drains from her eyes with every exclamation you throw to the Heavens. You shout for help, but the depths are too narrow. 

No one comes. 

-

-

-

You, by the grace of your Lord, somehow managed to flee the concaves without being spotted by your commune, cloak submerged in blood that is masked by its darkness. Anxiety forged in the pit of your stomach; unable to return to your base for the last peaceful rest, you ran. You cowered. Just when you believed it was out of your nature. 

An Overseer committed suicide, and you were the only witness. 

You went to your chambers after the accident—warning? — stuffed what you could into your satchel, and escaped the iron gates of your former home. Scaled them like a rabid hyena until your bandaged soles combined with tall greenery. The scene of never-ending land doesn’t ease your nerves, but you sprint until your lungs burn and your legs give out. 

Your path is blind, but your end is near. 

All fingers point at you. 

The greatest form of betrayal. 

The lifeblood of the wealthy always curdles: from concealed shame. From ego. From both; It always leaves a sour film over her tongue. Despairing times. The rosewood floors are bathed in red as the last breaths of her victim shake through her bedroom. A beautiful one, she was; dressed in skirts and stockings that ripped at the lightest touch. 

Blood drips down from Ellie’s mouth to the collar of her unbuttoned shirt, stains seeping into the crew of her undershirt. Barely any effort was needed to lure them all in. Desperation makes obscenity much sweeter. 

A knock erupts from the other side of her door before a sugary utterance echoes, “May I come in?” 

Ellie scoffs at the pester. 

“You may…” She replies.

The door opens, and she’s met with soft eyes twinkling with brown and burgundy. 

Her brow arches, “Not.” She concludes.

The raven-haired girl squints playfully and shuts the door behind her, “Hush, now,” Her strides are strong and assertive, puddles of red soaking the bottom of her heels. 

“Quite the mess,” she mutters at the scene with an upturned nose, “It smells.” 

“Who am I to complain?” 

“The only one that complains,” Her soft hands land on Ellie’s shoulders, and she sighs, taking in the worn appearance of her partner: under eyes darkened and sunk in, dry lips, voice hoarse.

“I bare news.” Dina whispers. 

Ellie curls a tweel of black hair around her finger, “Hm?” 

Dina leans in close, arms locking around the back of her lover’s neck, lips brushing Ellie’s ear. 

“Our little flower is on the loose.” 

Ellie’s body locks, and pressure grows in her fangs. “Liar.” She gasps.

“Nuh uh,” A kiss is planted to the corner of her stained mouth, “Word is she’s fled the sanctuary. Searches are apparently ongoing.” 

“Where.” Ellie presses. 

“Not sure… I came to ask if we should plan for her… arrival while the ladies are away.” Dina suggests with a conniving smirk. 

Ellie’s lips curl dangerously around her sharp teeth, a blinding white. She lifts her darling off the ground, spinning her in celebration as she squeals, droplets of evidence seeping deeper into the floorboards. 

“Absolutely.” 

wittle taglist :3 HIII DEAR: @elliewilliamsblunt

[gerec]

Do you have any canon movie fics to recommend? (could be canon divergence too)

the best ones of course

Hi Anon,

It's impossible to define 'best ones' when it comes to fic as everyone has their own set of preferences but I'm happy to share some of my personal favourites. :D And this list barely scratches the surface of all the incredible fic we've been blessed with in this fandom so def. do your own search on ao3 and filter for your preferred tropes! Also, feel free to check out some of my previous fic recs posts on my blog for more options! Happy reading!

XMFC

never too late to be who you might have been by acetamide Erik wakes suddenly and takes a deep breath, and realises that there is nothing.

Replay by SlightWeasel (series) After Magneto of an X2-ish future succeeds in the unthinkable, Charles sends his consciousness back to 1962 to guide Erik away from the path that will lead to the genocide of the human race forty years hence.Charles knows that Erik has always loved him, and intends to use this knowledge + sex to seduce Erik away from his ideals in his youth.There’s no way this well-thought-out, sensible, debugged and 100% bulletproof plan can possibly go wrong.

When We Two Parted by nekosmuse At the end of X3, a still depowered Erik travels back in time to meet 1962 Charles. Cue angst, desperate kissing and happy endings for all. Written for the x-men kink meme.

Lucid Dreaming by listerinezero Magneto finds himself in 1962, on the morning they go to Cuba, in the bed of the young Charles who’d spent months letting him think they were in love before breaking his heart. But he is not the same man he was forty years earlier, and as he gets to know young Charles again, he discovers that things might not have been exactly the way he remembered them after all.

Time to Grow by zarah5 In which you'll find chess dates which aren't dates (or maybe Charles is wrong about that). -- Based on First Class, this turns (slightly) AU during the beach scene.

Not Half As Blinding by keire-ke Cuban beach AU. Charles discovers that death does, in fact, solve everything.

Blood and Steel and Miles Between by dreamlittleyo (Post-movie AU.) On a beach in Cuba, Charles manages to talk Erik down from the edge. But even after the missiles have been diverted, compromise is impossible. There are two different futures to build, and Erik and Charles will always be separated by their principles. But when Charles is kidnapped and the X-Men can't find him, Erik will get him back no matter the consequences.

Homecoming by nekosmuse Five years after they part ways on a beach in Cuba, Charles sends a telepathic message: We are under attack.. Erik drops everything to rush to Charles' side. In which battles are fought, war is avoided, a middle ground is found, and happily ever afters do exist.

how near to fairyland by ikeracity Since childhood, Charles has kept all the things he can't let go of in a beautiful room in his head. Cuba brings his precarious balancing act crashing down.

The Line in the Sand by ikeracity The CIA agents on the base are bullying the children, mocking them for their mutations. Charles will not tolerate it.

DOFP

Hope by daymarket  A near-decade of hatred can't be wiped out with a single summer, no matter how eventful that summer might be. When Erik shows up uninvited at the mansion, Charles is just barely civil enough to not throw him out, but that doesn't mean he'll let him stay.

Mile High by cygnaut There’s only so much time you can spend sublimating your emotions into chess.

Spark Me Up by blarfkey “This is Erik raw. This is Erik lost. This is Erik looking at Charles like he is the only piece of wreckage in a vast ocean. The only star in the sky.

And such a look does things to Charles.”

After ten years, they are both starving for each other.

XMA

third time's the charm by Gerec XMA ficlets and missing scenes

Regrets by SlightWeasel After Apocalypse, Charles and Erik sleep together—but it’s way too soon for Erik.

as it arcs towards the sun by pearl_o

night by night by pearl_o

things worth fearing by pearl_o

Dark Phoenix

After the End of the World (One Bad Day) by kianspo Set during and immediately after the events of X-Men: Dark Phoenix. Everyone deals with the aftermath of Jean's transformation and everything that comes with it in their own way. Could there be found a measure of peace and happiness after everything they've lost?

Never a Place by kianspo It takes some getting used to. Charles hasn’t seen Erik cheerful, actually cheerful without a homicidal intent of some sort in a very long time—perhaps never. Or. Charles takes Erik up on his offer while trying to process everything. Erik is remarkably patient until he isn't.

rue de la paix by Ireliss Post Dark Phoenix. Charles, Erik, and the winding road towards peace.

The First Move by TurtleTotem Charles and Erik live together now, in Genosha. They get up together, spend the day together. And then... go to sleep in their separate beds.

Charles is going quietly crazy.

[sourbites]

Wildsun

Pairing: James Hetfield/Reader (circa 1997) Contains: Cowboy/Rancher James AU, stupid banter, mentions of a breakup, overall just James and reader self-sabotaging, slowburn-ish (i time skip a lot), sappy James at the climax and resolution of the fic, and smut (i had to stay on brand). Notes: FIRST AU HOW ARE WE FEELING. hopefully i didn't keep you guys hungry for cowboy James for too long. if this was enjoyable (it sparkled and pleased with the masses), please let me know you'd like more AUs for future sourbites posts <3 Word count: 7,716

The only thing that is ever guaranteed in life is change. The backbone of life: progression. You needed that. Desperately. No more did you revel in bustling city life or cheesy billboards at every glance. Or the fact that no one seemed to stick. Your world had quickly morphed into an unknown landscape where your heart no longer had the zeal to beat.

James Hetfield had recently rescued a thoroughbred racing horse whose career was cut short. He had an accident, leaving him unable to race again. His original owners were going to euthanise him. Instead, they sold him to James. The horse, originally named something stupid like Mustang Haze, wasn't strong enough to be transported back and forth to the nearest place that was qualified to care for horses. Which also happened to be where you were employed. You, needing a change, and James, needing a professional to handle Blue (his James-given name), seemed to come to an agreement.

It's all so new and exciting. The sun's premature sunbeams scatter on the horizon, the mountains scraping the light around until it looks washed out. The fields are wide and open— the wind is screeching in your ears, amplified by the trees, prickling with its needled breeze at your spine. It's so flat; there's not much architecture to shield you from the wind or the sun. It's barely even daybreak. James wanted you here early for your first day. (You suspect he thinks you're some city-slicker, as the cowboys say.)

Just before the train ride to the ranch, you had researched him a little. Just to know who you're working with. He's a simple guy who keeps to himself, it seems. Unlike Blue, who's decorated in plaques and rosettes for his shows. It's a shame he won't be able to perform again— though something within you is glad he's out of his jockey's hands because the facts tell you he wasn't being loved in his former life.

"Hi," You offer James a professional, friendly smile. "I'm here for Blue?" He's got massive shoulders. He's kneeling on the floor of the barn, you think either tying up or cutting the string keeping a haystack together. Wind rocks straight through you as you wait for him.

His acknowledgement comes in the form of a grunt. "Stables." James answers, monosyllabic, his well-muscled back facing you. Weren't cowboys supposed to be, like, charmers? Isn't that in all the Western movies? This guy's so rude. Foolishly, you stand there for a few moments, expecting something. Maybe he'd shake your hand, welcome you, introduce himself. Or at least point you in the direction of the stables. Nope. Nothing. As if you're not even there, he ignores you, going about his business.

Eventually, you just kind of... shuffle off.

Okay. Bad first impression. But maybe he had just woken up or something. Maybe he was in desperate need of a cup of coffee.

The ranch seems to stretch on for years. Total neverending, ancient-looking land. Like a set for some 60's folk horror movie. The spindly trees are lonely, naked without their greenery. Spring is hesitant to arrive here. The fields were boundless and near-empty. As you navigated around, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were being watched— but maybe you've got jet lag or something. (If that even happens on trains.)

The stables inside were quiet. Thick with the smell of leather and hay, tickling down your throat. Blue is in his stable, visibly guarded off, his ears turned back. He's mostly brown, with a cute marking on his head that looks like a milk spill going down his forehead. In a way, you and him are alike: in this new place, hoping it'll heal your wounds. For a moment or two, you just observe each other, exchanging an animalistic intimacy.

Hm. There are a couple of scrapes and blotches of lost fur starting from his neck and going down. You know well enough not to go prodding with a strong, skittish horse in a new environment. You purse your lips, thoughtful about what can be done immediately.

The easy, soft thud of footsteps comes from behind you. "He's in a bad way," You turn your neck, sympathy gleaming in your eyes, glancing at James from over his shoulder. He's cutting up an apple with a knife. You cringe each time the blade meets the pad of his thumb, but it doesn't end up slicing him.

"He's tough. He'll make it." James doesn't even spare you a glance. His voice is so low, so certain. Taking the chance while you have it, you turn properly to face him, studying him. He seems more feral than his animals at this moment.

⸻

It turns out that the wounded, anxious horse wasn't the tough nut to crack at the ranch— but its owner.

In the bleakness of April, when everything seems to be keen on swallowing grief, Blue appears to be born again. He's got quite the personality.

The gravel crunches under your boots (you had to swap out loafers pretty quickly on a ranch, you had realised) as you near the stables. James, the early riser that he is, is already there, going about his duties. He hasn't noticed you yet. This means you get to watch him, study him, coloured fascinated. He seems to have an affinity for strays. He'll pick up any pellets of feed that fell from the cup and put them back in, appearing to pluck the exact runaway pellet each time. He'll give Blue two sugar cubes just because he can.

"I can do that," You offer, watching James get a good grip on the horse brush handle. He barely lets you do anything. You're beginning to wonder if he thinks of you as incompetent. He gives you a blue-eyed look of surprise. Wordlessly, he surrenders the brush to you as you step forward to claim it like a trophy.

You smooth a palm over the side of Blue's neck. "Hi, buddy," You speak softly, gliding the brush through his coat. His ears twitch, tilting forward.

Blue isn't the only one observing you. "He doesn't like when you brush like that."

Initially, you want to argue with James. Animals have ways of showing discomfort, don't they? Blue's fine. But then your whole body does that flaring with embarrassment thing, realising he was judging you so intensely. Sighing, you look to him, "How would you do it?" You ask. You extend the brush to him. Show me, then.

And fuck. His skin is so hot in that brief morsel of a second where his big hand swipes against your own. For someone so rugged, he's so tender with how he interacts with the world. Then it's an awkward stare-off where the hair at the back of your neck stands up.

True to his word, James schools you like a pro. One broad hand scratches at Blue's coat in a downward motion, and then the brush follows. You've worked with animals long enough to know when to push and when to leave it be. But after two, three beats of silence, you square your shoulders and clear your throat.

"So..." You begin, stomach immediately twisting in knots at your impulsive decision to be chatty. You're not sure what you expect from him. This distance between the both of you is heavier than the awkward silence that hangs in the air like a noose, swinging around and around no matter how hard you try to catch it and unwind it. "You, uh... going to do anything with Blue once he's better?"

James pauses. Glances at you. You can't read him— he looks at you like you spoke in a foreign language. Sheepish, you smile, seeking and searching to understand him. To make your job go down easier. Sure, the city was awful, but at least you had human interaction then. Even if it was just ordering coffee or getting hollered at by a motorist when you jaywalked. But here? You're going crazy. Not in the cute I love Jeff Buckley crazy, but the drawing on walls and singing nursery rhymes to myself crazy.

One low, rumbling hum comes deep from within James' chest. "Nah." He decides coolly. "Jus' gonna let him be. Let him live. He's done enough in his life." He adds, brushing Blue, looking at him with so much respect— so much regard. You'd kill to be viewed by James like that.

Contrastingly, something within this moment unfurls. Noiselessly so, creeping up upon the both of you. Your hands swipe up the horse's coat, doing it for the love of it, soft fur scraping against your skin. You mull over what James said. He won't put Blue to work. He'll give him a noble life, just being fed and caressed and free. That's not very entrepreneurial of him. However, something within you likes that. He didn't see this broken-down, injured horse as a business opportunity— but a life. To be respected and cherished as life should be.

There's no real need to ruminate, but you do regardless. When your district manager sent out a mass e-mail detailing this job, you didn't accept it solely because an animal was in need. Guilt gnaws at the marrow of your very bones. You saw it as an opportunity. When you had given your yes, you had imagined yourself as some outlaw, freed from the weight of your life's missteps, wind in your hair, the whole nine yards. That maybe... wasn't the noblest of your decisions. But James? He had visited Blue multiple times. Invested time, and money, and love and fuel (yes, that's important. Have you seen fuel prices?) into him. And not because Blue had a use for him, a benefit. James didn't need any more incentive other than he was needed. So he answered.

Stupid, girlish embarrassment writhes within you once you realise you haven't exactly replied to James. You flick your eyes over to him, wide with what could only regally be described as mortification, already rolling around generic responses in your arsenal. But James... doesn't even care. He's contented with the silence, which honestly makes sense now that you think about it. He does have a weird tendency to lean towards solitude.

You genuinely try not to think about him too much. You're just so hyperaware of him. Aware of every soft sigh, of how he shifts his weight on his long legs, of how some metal will clink if he moves too much: his belt buckle, his ring against his necklace if he adjusts his collar. Your heart is racing— why is it racing? You're just... petting a horse. You're not a gazelle being hunted for sport. Why can you feel every pulse of your heart, rattling the bones of your ribcage?

Maybe you're just psychic. James slides the brush into your hands, his burning hot palm on the back of your hand, guiding you, moulding your dexterity to be sufficient for his impossible standard. He smells like leather, obviously, but also some hazy, nostalgic molasses-sweetness. Citrusy, you realise. He smells like a fucking elixir. You can physically feel every single atom of his against yours. He holds your hand (and the brush by proxy, but who cares about that) with so much skill, and yet you get this taste in your mouth that tells you he's withholding himself. His fingers flex around the sides of your hand hesitantly, the fingertip of his pinky finger unintentionally - or maybe intentionally. You pray it's intentional - sweeping down the base of your hand, hooked under the side of your outer wrist. You shudder. In your head, you blame it on the cold wind. But that excuse won't be around for much longer when May comes bumbling in like an idiot.

He mystifies you, just standing there behind you.

"You're good with animals." The words tumble from your mouth before you can stop them. You're pinned between Blue and James. Each heavy thump, thump-thump, thump of your heart drums within your ears between every syllable you speak. You don't really expect a reply from him. Monosyllabic as he is, you thought you'd get a low-effort, Mhm, and nothing more.

"I find 'em easier than people." James lets his hand uncurl from your own. Palm flat against your forearm, where it drags up until the inside of your elbow, then he cruelly withdraws all that safe body heat from you. "Most days." He adds with a smoky chuckle, the vibration within his chest smothering against your back.

He's reeled you in perfectly. Sucker. "I'm listening, James."

He seems pleased by your words because he leans in to pat Blue's flank, giving you a nice view of his juicy forearm, tanned from working outside all the time, his sleeves rolled up an inch or so before his elbows. "There's no judgin'. No hate, war, violence. Anything they do is to live and persevere. S' noble, don'cha think?"

Your smile slanted into a thoughtful frown. There's more to James than expected. Maybe you're overthinking it; maybe you want to be close to him because you know he's the only human connection you've had in three weeks and, by the looks of it, for a few months more. Humans are social creatures, after all. You just want to know him, understand him. He wants to be understood— doesn't he? Or is that you projecting? Point is, you were too critical of the poor guy. He speaks with so much clarity, yet so absent of vehemence or frustration. Like he's just accepted it all.

"You're wrong." You murmur, unsure if these are the right words. Unsure if they're your words or someone else's, like a book character or a politician. They can be borrowed words, then. "About people, I mean," You add quickly, not wanting to slander any cute puppy or silly little chipmunk. "Hate and war comes from humanity, not humans. And animals are violent, too, with their prey or to assert dominance." The brush against Blue's coat pauses for a moment. "Humans are just as capable of love and art as they are of some nuclear blast. Good and bad in everything, y'know?" You end awkwardly, trying not to come off as too philosophical. You're a hired hand on a ranch, not Socrates.

All the warmth you've ever known is filtered away from you as James withdraws, not without a parting pat to Blue. "Yeah," He wipes his hands on his jeans, "maybe you're onto something, huh?"

⸻

"I'm fine— stop fussin' over it." James gruffs out, steering your hand away from his own. You grumble, exasperated. The stupid idiot basically punctured his finger with a nail. Summer thunderstorms are kicking up, which means the inevitable weather wreaks hell on manmade structures outside. James was repairing a broken fence when it happened. He didn't even tell you he was hurt; he just soldiered on as usual. You only managed to notice he was hurt because you've recently been, uhm, attentive to his hands, one could say.

You try again, reaching for his hand. He flexes it, hesitant, but somehow doesn't recoil from your touch just yet. "S' fine. Wasn't rusted, so I don't have tetanus or anything. Leave it." He urges again. Through your eyelashes, you glare at him warningly.

"You don't get tetanus from rust, James. Try literally anything else. Like dirt." You deadpan. You've learnt that James listens most when you're blunt and honest. Though he's smart enough to decipher any flowery language, he doesn't prefer it most days. You wonder if he'd be any good at writing those sappy birthday cards people throw in a scrapbook.

His brows raise, those mesmerising blue eyes gleaming as he smiles. "Seriously?"

You wonder how he managed to get by alone for so long. He's no sage, that's for sure. Maybe a nomad? You know he moved a lot when he was younger. And besides, his accent is a funny amalgamation of valley girl meets brooding cowboy. By the threshold of his doorway, on the welcome mat, he looks as golden as ever. The sun dips low into the horizon, reaching out by the sunbeams to caress and lave all over James' complexion. You cannot bite back the smile that infects you. James already forgets about the pulsing cuts on the back of his knuckles.

To humour you, James walks through the entryway and into his kitchen, sitting comfortably up on the countertop. He points you in the direction of the first-aid kit (you're surprised he knew where it even was, considering he likes to walk any injury off or some stupid thing like that), watching you with some unfamiliar yet welcome glimmer in his eyes. It is sturdy, unwavering as he observes you like some long-lost friend, with the same heat of a lover and the same affliction of a betrayer. He studies you like poetry. Unsure how he feels while trying to assign a meaning to you. Interpret you. While furiously dissecting you piece by piece. But you can't prosecute him for his curiosity— you do the same to him.

"I can't believe you managed to whack yourself with a nail like that." You laugh, preoccupied with rolling gauze around the base of his finger and the side of his hand. James' legs are between you, brushing against your side ever so slightly. The slight touches of your skin on his births brief bursts of electric contact. There are tiny little flecks of blood staining where the gauze settles onto James. You watch in real-time as his cheeks colour red, his lips pursing nervously. You didn't realise he was squeamish.

"I know," He agrees. It almost sounds like a thank you in that masculine, velvety timbre that you've grown to recognise (and revel in).

Once you give him a once-over, ensuring he'll live, you step away, satisfied with your work. "All done, Cowboy." You call him, decided in a fraction of a second. Impulsivity seems to suit you— because James is more than pleased with your nickname, giving you the best performance of schoolboy shyness on a man's face and build. He throws in a little aw, shucks, scraping his uninjured hand over the stubble along his mandible, palm eventually falling down into his lap.

James watches you for a moment, wetting his lips with his tongue. There's a hesitant gleam in those blue eyes of his, reaching out and staring at you. After living alongside him for a few months, you can tell when his nerves are needling around in his guts. He clears his throat, looking at his hands in his lap for a second— gathering his bearings. You watch him, amused and admittedly a little curious. "Thanks. For, uh, for being here. You're actually a good help."

You raise your brows, smiling. Your open palms press into his hands gingerly— because they're resting on his lap, and he's been messing with them all day, and they're right there. The perfect place for you to rest your hands. His skin is so warm; it climbs up your arms in steady, tingling bursts. A deep, low sigh drains from James, his shoulders un-tensing. He squeezes your hands back, revelling in how it feels to be touched like this. He hasn't had it in a while— touching someone, feeling the tender stumble of girl's hands along his skin. His heart lurches and writhes within his chest.

A warm, steady palm cups the swell of your cheek. Your entire nervous system implodes with all those good, buttery and fluttery feelings. Maybe there is a God above— because things don't just feel like heaven if you haven't had a taste of it yet. The easy, subtle throb of hot skin against your cheek lures you in. You look up at James, peering at him through your eyelashes. You want to peel that armour of his, strip him to the bone until you can see all those wires that make him tick.

He slowly eases off the countertop, and he's still infuriatingly tall. The other hand (the one not cupping your cheek) coasts down the length of your arm. You could sit with this feeling for hours. You're scooped in his arms and herded into his steady chest. In a matter of seconds, you have fallen terribly in favour of how all that spiked loneliness drips from your organs like tar, falling asleep the moment your ear rests over his beating heart in his chest. You flatten your hands against him, just under his ribcage. You reach out to each other wordlessly.

His breath is hot against your skin, you want to close your eyes and bask in it like it is your own sun. James' hands on you ease you into him until you're standing chest-to-chest. He dips down low, the tip of his nose gliding against your own for a second. Then, you barely tilt your head up, your lips catching his. You lay your mouth onto his in a burst of impulsivity, and yet, ironically, it was always going to end up this way. You squeeze his tricep, urging him to react. He hums lowly, like an engine purring, vibrating against your frame. He inches closer, his stubbly facial hair rasping across your skin, sinking into you: a steady anchor within a tempestuous ocean. It's one of those kisses that should be framed for the work of art that it is because you can taste his soul through this sugar-lipped kiss, and it tastes like red. Palms outward on his Herculean-chiseled body, you're in his teeth, and he's kissing you with a mouth that tastes like everything you've searched for— looking for it at the bottom of a bottle, in the pages of a book, in the eyes of everyone you've ever been hungry enough to gaze upon. It's all him, and he's right here, holding the side of your face in his hand as if he had never let it go. It puts everything into perspective for you; every single puzzle piece falls into place, every riddle solved, because the two of you have spent an entirety of four months alone, but together. He's here and he wants this. His atoms tell you so.

"Wow," You're stupefied, head fogged with the smell and the heat of him. "That's one way to thank me."

James chuckles, his mouth brushing against your temple, unwilling to truly part so soon. You've never seen him - or any man, really - wear happiness this way before. "Easy, Darlin', don't swoon too hard."

Your fists curl around the collar of his shirt, your back arching felinely as you tiptoe up to reach him since he's not helping you by swooping down like last time. Last time, your heart trembles. Last time, when you kissed him. "Don't backtrack now, Cowboy."

⸻

Late August bites you by the wrists, the sun saturates the earth and refuses to let up. The familiar crunch of gravel under weight creeps up behind you.

"Hey," James rasps, wiping his hands on his jeans, trying to get that sticky, annoying palm sweat off his skin. "Can we talk?"

You pat the warm slate you're perched on, inviting him to sit. You get a morsel of a cool breeze as his weight shifts through the thick, densely heated atmosphere to accept your invitation. Things between you and James have been difficult lately. Not to be a chicken or coward or anything else that would elicit a bunch of nine-year-olds to hurl their meanest insult towards you, but you've been toying with the idea of leaving the ranch.

Two weeks ago, the both of you were playing poker. Or, James was playing poker, and you were emptying out your wallet with the flushed cheeks of a sore loser. You both got talking, just some innocent conversation about your lives before a few months back. To before you had met. "I want to know everything I can about you," James had said, shuffling the cards for the billionth time. "You've got your head screwed on, I'm surprised you came from the city. What were you there for?" He had grinned, pushing the wads of money over to his growing pile. Knowing James, he'd be a good sport and find a way to give you your money back. Save for five dollars or something— just to teach you a lesson. You were giving him a lot of smack-talk in the beginning before he schooled you so hard you're still embarrassed.

"Work, mostly. And some guy I was seeing, but we split up." You dropped your measly hand (a two-pair) onto the table. "Oh yeah? You break up with him?" James eyed you carefully. You nodded: "Yeah, he was cheating on me with a colleague. That's why I'm genuinely grateful for the opportunity to work away from the city, clear my head. I was really lost, you know."

"M' sorry for what I said," James murmurs, taking a cautious glance at your expression.

"Wait, when did you end it with him?" He paused, leaning back in his seat. There were cards and cash scattered over the table. "March. A week before I arrived here." He had scoffed at that. You didn't like that noise. It stung you. "So that's why you're really here, not because you care about helping others. Because all of this - me - it's an escape to you."

"It's fine," You shift your melting limbs in your spot on the stone. Your tone doesn't quite match your words. The air is blurry and fiery, the day is plagued with a heat that gnaws away at your synapses.

"What? No, that's not it at all. It's just that— I don't know if I would've been brave enough to move if I didn't need a fresh start, that's what I was trying to say, that being here's a good thing for me." You had scrambled to salvage the evening, drenched in your own nerves. "Fresh start," James echoed in disbelief. "And what happens when you're bored of playing house? You're going to pack your bags and leave, aren't you?" You bristled at that, too. His voice was growing in intensity, and you felt he was patronising to you, trying to get you backed into a moral corner. "Did you expect Blue to need my help forever? It's a job, James, I came here to make him better, and yeah, I'll probably leave when he's good and healthy— because it's my job."

James had shook his head. You'll never shake that look on his face. He looked so mad, and so hurt. You couldn't fathom how the evening had soured so quickly. You remembered, strangely, that you wanted to pull at his throat and hope he'd reshuffle those syllables into something kind. "Don't hold your breath, now. He's right as rain, so you can leave any time you'd like." James spoke, the final nails in your coffin. The wooden chair squeaked a cry against the floor as you stood up, erect and furious, and nursing an aching heart full of raw upset.

"No," James sighed, pushing a hand through his hair, the other holding onto his hat. "No, it's not. I shouldn't have questioned you like that. It wasn't my place, an' I'm real sorry, Darlin'." His voice is velvet-smooth, softly insisting, coaxing you to melt. You cross your arms, frowning, wuffing out a breath.

"I'm not that mad because you questioned me. I'm upset that you just flipped out on me." Your chest aches. With every deep inhale, your lungs hit this knotted-up cramp as they expand.

He rests a palm on your knee. "Look, I know I treated you awfully. I'm trying to apologise here, okay? Lemme make it up to you, I know you're not using me for an escape or distraction or whatever it was that I said."

Your guts are a mangled mess of guilt and hurt and shame, and it all conflicts and festers off each other, growing like steel and tar and acid all at once. You're not sure about it anymore— are you using James? You do like him, but he's not like anyone else you've ever known. You want these feelings to be real. As much as it hurts, you push his hand off your leg. You can't risk it. Hurting him. Or yourself, because you'll eventually leave the ranch, and probably sometime soon considering how well Blue is doing, and if your feelings are true, and you end up ripping yourself away from a man you have genuine feelings for, then you're an idiot. You feel like an idiot anyway— for letting it all get this far. At the first spark when he touched your hand with his, at the first sign of butterflies in your stomach at his voice, you should've turned back and ran. Stupid, stupid, stupid. This is what you get for jumping the gun, thinking you're ready for such a huge change: people get hurt.

"Darlin', please," James speaks again, his expression crumbling. Fuck, how does he manage to look like a kicked puppy?

"I'll get back to work." You slide off the stone wall, shoes hitting the ground with a crunchy thud. You give him one glance before you walk away, maybe just to punish yourself, seeing that slow, skin-burning upset of James' pretty blue eyes and handsome face sink into your memory.

⸻

The high-pitched squeak of your bags being zipped up holds more weight than a Judge's gavel. September slices everything loose. Just like a guitar string caught between scissors, forcefully exploding, flung at two separate ends.

"Here's the spare keys," You murmur to James, your eyes on the table where you lay them, metal clinking together in protest. James didn't think you were serious about leaving. It had been established since day one: you'd show up, help Blue, and leave. But he just... didn't think it was real. Letting you go would be so much easier if he hated you. He wishes you'd have been rude off the bat, he wishes you weren't so fucking perfect. Then he'd be glad to be rid of you. But he's not, and this hurts so much he cannot breathe. He doesn't want to hate spring and summer because it's too sweet, and it reminds him of you.

"Do you need anything?" James asks, trying to buy some time— delay the inevitable. You shake your head, throat blocked with an aching lump of everything you want to say.

He steps towards you cautiously. His hands are up as if he's approaching an animal, eyeing you for any sudden shift or bristle. "Hey," He coos, laying his palms flat on your shoulders, brushing his knuckles against your jaw. "Come have a drink with me. Even if it's just to make the train ride go down a little easier."

Whiskey-lipped, your blood burns with a buzz that puts all that ugliness to rest. James is the same, shuffling closer to you on his couch, touched with liquid courage. Your head is humming and it won't go.

You lay your head on his shoulder, watching the fireplace cast tall shadows, caricatures of the furniture and your silhouettes. "Whaddya say I give you a kiss goodbye?" James' hot mouth purrs into the shell of your ear, echoing and rattling around until you can't point his words out from your own blood thrumming around your head.

He sweeps your hair from your beginning to flush cheeks, tucking it behind your other ear as you pull away from him to sit upright. His mouth is warm and wetter than you expected. He is lovely even in this maddening heartache. His breath becomes yours, and yours becomes his— in your very own symbiotic relationship. He just wants you to stay. You can taste it on his lips, you can feel it in his touch. Stay, stay, with me, stay here. You want to go back to the golden-winded days where James would chase you with an alien-looking bug, and you squeal overdramatic profanities at him.

But today tastes like an epilogue, no matter how hard you try to gorge on the niceties of last season's harvest. So you break the kiss with a heavy heart, lay a kiss onto James' cheek and whisper the best, proper goodbye you're strong enough to wield. Which is just a measly I'll see you, because you're not brave enough to actually say goodbye. They feel too final.

He follows you all the way to the front door, after a few seconds where he was too surprised to do anything but watch your frame get smaller and smaller away from him. He doesn't like that sight. You hesitate to step out the front door and onto the welcome mat. You get that familiar fear like you've forgotten something. You hope you have. You hope you forgot your necklace in his life, just so you have the excuse to come back and get it. But it's around your neck.

It's a long, gruelling road out of the Garden of Eden.

James locks his arms around you, face shoved into your neck. "Don't go."

Any protest that cooks in your brain is spoiled the second you feel those fucking-hell-big hands on your hips, with his stubble on your neck, with his hot mouth smooshing pleas into your skin as if he thinks you can absorb them like a sponge. You twist in his arms, bags forgotten, and squeeze your arms together, sitting them on his broad shoulders. He pulls you from the welcome mat and back inside.

"M' such an idiot, pushing you away like that," He huffs out, kissing down the curve of your neck, unbuttoning your shirt. His fingers blur together with the speed at which he opens you up, skimming his glowing-hot palms over your exposed midriff.

"It's my fault too. I was such an idiot." You grab onto the collar of his shirt as he swoops down, mouthing at your pulse.

"No." James quickly protests, "You're not an idiot." He stresses this belief with a kiss on your chin. A great deal of heat falls on everything. Give me more, you seem to say, fisting at his shirt.

You're eased onto the floor, which isn't as cold as you anticipated (probably because you're lying on your shirt), near the fireplace. You don't need it to keep you warm from the sinister chill of the September evening because your body is warm enough. James put this heat within you, and now he must ease it.

"Tell me you'll stay," He pleads, kissing down your stomach, his hands eagerly unbuttoning your jeans. You nod, your appetite for him creating an ache of emptiness deep within you, buried beneath all that tissue and skin. You can't even point out where it aches— it's just all over. A need so intense that you've made it corporeal, and it's demands are undeniable.

"Yes. Yes, I'll stay." You roll your hips up per his request, letting his hands strip your jeans from your legs. Humming, pleased with you, James tugs your bra down, flattening his tongue and licking across your nipple. You squirm, prompting him to nudge his knee between your legs, pinning you to the floor and forcing his bulge to smoosh against your wettening-in-real-time underwear.

He moans once he feels it: your wet cunt, drooling for his cock. "I don't deserve you." He mutters, in between sinking his teeth into your shoulder, groping handfuls of your soft, sweet thighs. It's taken you months to strip him down of all those façades, to unwind the temper and the aloofness to get a taste of the James you always knew was in there. And now you've had a taste of it? A slice of that Paradise? Yeah, you're not going anywhere.

He's got that knife-edged jaw and bewitching blue eyes, golden hair. You're not walking away from that. You slip a hand down onto his shirt, unbuttoning it slowly, with a little less dexterity than he did yours. He unhooks your bra with one clean motion, so unlike anyone else, who would always fumble to get it undone. It's as if your bra undid itself. James kisses everywhere he can think of: your tits, nose, mouth, hair, collarbones, ribs. You cup his bulge.

"Baby," He manages against your pelvis (how'd he get there?), trying so hard to be good and gentle the way you deserve. "Are you sure? I've got a lotta making up t' do first..."

You bump your hips into his, "Please, James? Need you to show me I'm wanted here." You look up at him. For you, it's just a look. For James, it's two big, gleaming, pleading, baby-doll eyes that he'll never be able to shake from his memory, so pretty and sweet his cock hardens fully at just one glance that you spare for him. There's this underlying cadence to your voice— because it's not just about sex, but about feeling like you're welcome here, like you belong, like he wants you, and not just because you're chill with his horses. But you also do want him to fuck you until your brain melts.

"Oh, you're wanted, alright." He confirms, grinning at you. This moment feels like the solution to all hardships. When you lose people, either through death or outgrowing the other, or when you spill a drink you were really looking forward to enjoying, and you think, what's the point of all this? You have your answer in the here and now.

You make a soft, happy noise in the back of your throat, easing his opened shirt off his shoulders as his fingers twist into the waistband of your panties.

"There we go, you're so gorgeous." James rasps against your pelvis, tossing his shirt and your panties aside before subtly shifting his hips. You weave your hands into his short hair, wondering what it'd look like right now if it was long like he told you it was in his early twenties. Your fingers in his hair like this are all the inviting welcomeness that he needs. The way he's kissing you, hovering over you, you know you'll be riddled with homesickness the moment it's over.

His hand cups your pussy for a moment, his mouth busy on your ribs again. James slips lower and lower, and with your go-ahead, pushes his middle and ring finger within you, his thumb, index, and pinky all splayed over the natural fold of your thighs. "Hear that?" He coos, his voice ringing hushedly and sexily beneath the lewd way your wet cunt squelches with glossy arousal. "Hear how much this pretty pussy wants me?" He dips down to press a kiss to your hardened, puffy clit. You tremble, practically dissolving into his mouth.

He gives your slit a couple of flickering licks to your sensitive cunt with his tongue, laving over you, sucking and kissing and making a mess of you. Your skin, coated in his spit and your slick, glistens in the light of the fire, the whole room all orange and pinkish from the burning flames. The raw nerves of your pussy are detangled and worshipped; until he's grinding his constricted cock into anything he can bump it against— until his cute nose is smooshed into the delicious skin above your clit.

He wants to keep going, but he has the rest of his life to indulge in the taste of your cunt. And you're acting super squirmy and whiny. You want him. You want the intimacy that comes with being impaled by a thick cock (which you know James has got, considering it's rubbing in a side-to-side motion against your thigh).

With two eager sets of hands, James rids himself of his jeans and boxers. You're winded by the sight of him. Head all juicy and pink with precum. You make a mental note to suck his cock later. And then another mental note to remember your mental note: because you're not sure how brainless you'll be by the time he's finished with you. He dips his lazy temple to rest on your knee, which is bent and steered to wrap around his waist. He watches himself, his entire length dragging up and down the length of your sex, just wetting his cock with you. A happy purr drizzles out of you, and you stir your hips a little, chasing the friction that consoles your anticipating nerves.

James pulls away. You lock the leg he had around himself, trapping him against you on instinct, both your hands digging into his arms for extra security. "What're you doing?" You ask.

He bursts into chuckles, kissing at your hairline to soothe you. "Was gonna get a condom, Darlin'."

The tensed air rolls out of your lungs in relief. "Could've asked, I would've said I'm on the pill." You lecture jokingly. James, endeared by you, smacks his wet mouth onto your nose bridge. You scrunch it up, giggling out a melodramatic ewww, although you're definitely charmed by it. Or him— just all of him.

"You're phenomenal, y'know that? You sure you wanna do it like this?" His jaw is clenched, holding back that all-possessing urge that demands he immediately takes you up on that offer, sibilating his words into the swell of your warm cheek.

You nod, teetering your fingertips down his spine coyly, feeling the delicious plane of his well-toned back. For good measure, you press your hips into his, immediately slicking up his shaft with your cunt. A bit of incentive couldn't hurt, right? You conjure up the image of James' cum oozing out of you and add it to your vision board.

You're kissed through it, face glowing with heat so intense that the fireplace seems a little dimmer all of a sudden. James inches into you, his cock is one-hundred-per-fucking-cent as thick as you assumed, forcing your hole to open up for him to roll into you enough to bottom out. His bulbous cockhead slots within the deep channel of your cunt so perfectly you're half sure that maybe soulmates are real; because no two people can match up this perfectly without being cut from the same universal cloth.

You squeal out a giddy, keening yes that trickles out from the top of your throat. You're stuffed to the brim with outlaw cock, and you blame this hazy heat on being so close and so low to the fireplace. Goosebumps prickle on your clammy skin. James pours out a low groan into the underside of one of your tits. The head of his cock slicks into your sex so pathetically easily. You can feel the thirst on James' hungry mouth for you, tongue sucking at the tender skin of your breast.

He's on his knees between your legs as you lie spread out below him, his hands scraping up your calves and sides and arms, in pure disbelief that you're still here and you're going to stay. Everything invades your senses, most notably the cindering of wood into ashes, and the smoky, musky leather that seems to constantly cling to James, with the natural earthy-saltiness of naked bodies. Your hips are dragged up to meet the needy thrusts of his cock.

James is a big guy, and it seems he's elected to forget that fact right now— because he's battering your puffy cunt until it's a wet, swollen ring around the base of his relentless cock. Every thrust punches you into and sometimes a centimetre up the floor. You're squeaking out his name like they're hymns. Why not? James is kneeling against you like you're an altar.

In fact, there's something so endearingly first-human about having sex with someone for the first time. It's just intimate learning and enjoyment. You go there, I go here, oh! You like it when I do that! The next time you and James have sex (yes, there will be a next time), he will know exactly how to swirl his tongue around your clit the way you like because he's already discovered it this time around.

He gives you his all, truly a gifted lover, kissing all around you, whispering warm, sweet, and filthy-mouthed things into your sweat-tacky skin. He feels too big for your body to physically take, but by sheer force of will maybe, your cunt easily welcomes him each time he burrows back within you. There's so much pleasure mounting at the base of your spine, seeping into your hips through your bone marrow.

The room is stuffy— and filled with the glorious sound of thick, wet sounds of his cock pounding into you in a rhythm your heart will beat to for the rest of your days. It's sometimes punctuated with the crackling of fire consuming the firewood.

You think James cannot get any better— and then boom! He does! The pad of his thumb scrapes against your clit, and you tighten around him like a wind-up toy, just all springs and well-intended consequences.

Sobbing - truly sobbing his name - you shudder, your cunt tight as a fist as it pulses and gingerly squeezes around him with every rolling wave of your orgasm. You crash against the shore of the hardwood floor, pawing at his thick, broad shoulders. James whispers poetry books full of comforting niceties into your temple, brushing your hair back and cooing at you: at how proud he is, how pretty you are, how perfect and sweet you are to him. Your muscles ache, and your nervous system has been totally and completely scrambled into something new.

While you had the most intense orgasm ever recorded in history, you didn't realise James was filling you up with every hot spurt of his cum. You only realise it when he inevitably withdraws his hips from between your locked-in-place, shaking-like-a-bunch-of leaves-legs.

Spent, James just lays on top of you. His weight is oddly comforting, even if he makes breathing ten times more difficult. In more ways than one, too. He noses into your clavicle. "I'm real glad you've decided to stay. Gotten too used to you, now." You feel him smile against your clammy skin.

You hum softly, patting his shoulder. "You just love adopting strays, don't you?"

[whateverisbeautiful]

♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#32: The Safety (1.04)

gif cred: @riickgrimes

It was very clear up to this point in TOWL that Rick hadn't felt alive in years. But in this next scene, we learn that Michonne hadn't truly been feeling safe in years. And why? Because the only time she feels safe is with Rick Grimes. 😭

Danai wrote and delivered a line that moved me, broke me, and healed me all at the same and I have so many thoughts on it because I appreciate it so much 🥲...

So inside the gym, Rick lets Michonne know that the CRM took out the helicopter because they always destroy any evidence that they exist. Then he acknowledges that the whole building is buckling but Michonne is preoccupied with something that’s caught her attention.

When she doesn’t respond to him, Rick says, "Michonne?" and she takes hold of a note left behind by a deceased innovator, Lakshmi Patel. Michonne starts to read it aloud and it explains that this place consisted of like-minded innovators trying to live off the grid and create a new, sustained, and hopeful future.

Patel clearly lost hope in that vision saying that their motto of ‘progress and redemption through innovation’ is now like a sick joke. It’s interesting the letter then says, “I can’t face how much I have failed everyone” because that connects to something Rick feels, especially since when he chose to die he believed he died a failure.

Patel says she can’t continue to watch their mission die and apologizes. Meanwhile, Rick reads a much-needed message on the wall that says “Trust in your ability to adapt and overcome. Your past doesn’t define you.” And he def needs to hear that. 

gif cred: @clonecaptains

Michonne concludes reading the letter as Patel expresses her hope to be remembered as someone who refused to leave the world the same way she found it. And then Michonne gives a sad look at the body beside the letter seeing the somber fate of Patel. 

Michonne knows there are some connections to be drawn between this letter and Rick so she notes how it tends to not work out and fall apart when people try to save the world their own way. And just to make it extra clear she’s talking about Rick she says, “Sound familiar?”

(Side note: I like how she stays having one side of her shirt hanging off her shoulder. There’s something casual and comfortable about it plus it’s sorta like she’s trying to get Rick to realize the shirts already hanging off and he can take the rest off if he gets it together lol) 

Michonne says, “It’s just like this place. They thought they knew it all.” And then because these two can’t resist throwing some jabs in their arguments this ep she adds, “Oh except the killing of innocent people. Except that part.”

Also, I like the framing with a literal barrier between Rick and Michonne that paints the picture of the figurative barriers between them as well. Then Rick sounds the most CRM-ish he’s ever sounded when he responds saying, “The city stands.” Had me like...

And Michonne felt the same because the way she sighs - she’s so over this Commando front Rick is putting on. What happened to 'this isn’t my city'? I miss that energy.

And then Rick says, “And I’ll stop the killing. I’ll find a way.” He's so prepared to just burden himself with this mission. And Michonne challenges that, mentioning just like Patel thought she’d find a way...and we see how that worked out for her. 

Rick says, “You still don’t understand.” And the reason Michonne 'doesn’t understand' this is because it’s not the actual root of why Rick won’t go home. She can’t be fooled. And what Michonne does understand is that what Rick is proposing to do is basically, “Signing up for lifelong duty to the enemy.” But Rick rebuts that, “This is about ending the enemy.”

I love that Michonne is quick to respond saying, “This is not you, Rick.” She keeps trying to emphasize this because she knows him deeply and she knows this is not him being anywhere near his true self.

It's really fascinating to see this scenario play out where Rick has lost himself and is now back with the one person who knows him better than he knows himself, who can continually and accurately remind him that this version of him is not really him.

gif cred: @riickgrimes

But Rick thinks there are some aspects of this version of him that are authentic as he says, “This isn’t me how? That I would give everything - my hand - my life for you. That’s not me?”

gif cred: @riickgrimes

And I do love hearing Rick basically say I would give absolutely everything for you and how that's him to his core. And it is him, but also a healthy Rick would be fighting to be with her too, not just die for her.

gif cred: @riickgrimes

As Rick makes his way over to her side of the barrier he yells, “This is what I need to do to keep you safe!” Safety has understandably been such a huge priority for Rick to provide since the very beginning of TWD. And when he yells this I can hear this fear in his voice that he genuinely doesn’t think there’s another way to keep her safe than the one he’s taking.

I appreciate how passionate Rick feels about keeping her safe but also…the tone of it just needed to come down a few notches because no one should be yelling at Michonne. 👌🏽

Also, this made me think about how in the season 4 finale, Rick tells Daryl “I want to keep him safe. That’s all that matters” regarding protecting Carl after the horrible night with the Claimers. Keeping his family safe is such a driving force of Rick's character and he feels the same intense devotion to protecting Michonne as he yells that he has to stay with the CRM to keep her safe.

Her safety is all that matters to him rn and he’ll do anything to preserve it. But that’s why it’s such a perfect and impactful gut punch for Michonne to then reveal where her true source of safety comes from in this scene.

gif cred: @riickgrimes

Despite Rick's more ramped-up energy, Michonne, like she so often had done in the main show, (with that bullet moment from Clear being top of mind) approaches Rick's antsy energy with this arresting calm and beautiful vulnerability as she just melts my heart by softly telling Rick....

“The only time I feel safe is when I’m with you.”

gif cred: @figmentof

Y’all…😭😭😭 Perfection. I love it so much and it’s truly my favorite thing she’s ever told him. 😍

Before I started writing these TOWL posts I knew two lines were basically going to need a whole post dedicated to the line alone and it’s this one here from Michonne and another line from Rick in episode 5 that we’ll talk about later. There’s just so much to unpack with Michonne telling Rick that the only time she feels safe is with him. It makes total sense.

I had made a post right after episode 4 that incorporated TWD gifs of all the moments where it was evident Michonne got her safety from Rick. And I just think it’s the sweetest thing on the planet to know that in this dangerous world, the one thing that most made Michonne feel like it’s gonna be okay is Rick. 🥹 I once saw someone say Michonne makes Rick strong and Rick makes Michonne safe and I love that. Gospel truth. 💯

It’s such a big deal too because Michonne is an incredibly strong, competent, independent woman who many look at and quickly assume she can just fearlessly protect herself. And while she can protect herself, Michonne has always had so many layers to her so she’s also vulnerable and needs to feel safe and reassured from something outside of herself too. And I love that she knows she found that in Rick. 🥹

gif cred: @coolpartytimefan

Then the utter pain comes in when you realize this means for almost eight years Michonne hasn’t truly felt safe. She’s had to gracefully balance the responsibilities, fears, and expectations of motherhood and leadership as well as establish security for others and some semblance of security for herself, all without the personal safe space of her husband to turn to. It breaks me. 😥

And this is another reason I’m glad TOWL gave Rick and Michonne this space to be not just fighters, community leaders, or parents, but a husband and wife trying to find each other and themselves again.

Also, I love that she says 'the only time.' Like genuinely she’s either safe with him or not really feeling safe at all. And I feel like that’s also clear in her TWD scenes post-Rick with all the ways Michonne would cling to Rick's memory through various items. It's like she was trying to garner some sense of comfort again from the only person she ever completely let her guard down and trusted she’ll be safe with.

I remember I received a message a few months ago that touched on if I'd explore when Michonne seemed to realize that she only felt safe with Rick in TWD, how it impacted her actions, and what that evolving journey of safety with him looked like. It took me a minute to get to, but I said I would definitely talk about it, and so I want to break that all down now, right here. ⬇😊

When it comes to Michonne and her safety becoming tied to Rick. I think it happened before she knew it happened. 👌🏽

Now of course in season 3, Rick and Michonne are strangers so it doesn't happen this season. But it does seem like Michonne's inherent safety with Rick started at least budding even this early.

I especially think this because of that beloved scene in Clear where she tells Rick about talking to her dead boyfriend. That’s a very personal and vulnerable thing to share, especially from someone who didn’t even tell Andrea much about herself when traveling with her for months. (Which was a smart move considering the way Andrea stayed gossiping 🙂)

To me, it shows that somehow Michonne felt safe enough with Rick to open up about herself - I think because she recognized that she and him have qualities inside of them that are uniquely similar.

And then at the end of season 3 when Rick comes real close to delivering her to the Governor she still comes back and shows grace, trusting that she could return and be safe with them. But again I don’t think it’s season 3 where her safety is tied to Rick yet.

I think that comes in season 4.

However, not 4A just yet because I think in the first half of season 4 Michonne is absolutely starting to feel more safe and comfortable with Rick but that in itself feels unsafe to her at the time. Which is why she keeps herself at a warm distance from him.

I never lose sight of Michonne’s backstory when thinking about what’s made the character who she is because it’s so important. I know the show sorta put her losing a son and boyfriend in the background but for me it always informs so much about her, in the early seasons especially. And that’s such a traumatizing thing she had to go through and so you just know that it’s probably a lot to now be growing closer and closer to this man and his son at the prison knowing how things turned out for the man and child she lost at that refugee camp.

Michonne clearly really likes Rick and Carl in 4A but letting them in close after knowing profound loss is a bit of a fear for her so instead she’d always find ways to keep Rick at a friendly distance and stay out and about, of course for other motives like tracking down the Governor but also to run from the potential “danger” of being hurt again if she lets Rick become a safe space for her like he’s so naturally becoming. 

...But then the prison falls and so too do some of the walls around Michonne’s heart.

She tries to go back to her isolated ways after the prison but she can’t. She’s found family in those Grimes boys and she knows it and so even if she doesn’t know where those footsteps lead in After she knows she has to follow the call of her heart to be apart of something again.

In a heartbreaking scene in After (4.09), Michonne talks to Mike one more time, vulnerably saying she misses him and even saying she missed him while he was still here. It made me think how Michonne had probably also been keeping her distance from Rick out of a sense of loyalty to Mike. Just like Rick wrestled with feeling like he needed to be solely grieving Lori all the while falling hard for the katana-wielding woman that’s entered his life, I think Michonne also was subconsciously wrestling with feeling this intrinsic connection to Rick so soon after losing her family.

I really feel like Rick and Michonne’s immense sense of loyalty played a part in their slow burn being slow despite catching feelings for each other so quickly. Because while both of their former partners weren’t their person, they still weren’t just going to give up on them or abandon the memory of them, it’s not who Rick and Michonne are - they’re both loyal to the core, even to partners who weren’t loyal to them.

In some ways it seems like Mike might have stopped being able to understand Michonne, figuratively disappearing on her and giving up while she kept fighting, similar to how Lori just couldn’t understand Rick. But then Michonne and Rick met each other and felt exceptionally seen, known, heard, loved, and safe in ways that probably even surprised them towards the beginning of their bond. They finally found someone who could love them as loyally as they love, which is part of why of course their love can never be stopped or denied, not even by each other.

I think about how in season 3 Lori tells Rick he’s not a killer. But the thing is that killer is a part of him. It's not all of him but it is in him as we saw him really confronted with that side of himself at the end of season 4.

What’s beautiful about Rick's relationship with Michonne is she knows he’s a killer, even verbalizing that outright to Merle early in season 3, and she doesn’t have to deny it or change it to love him. Michonne gets that it’s in Rick and respects that as one of the many parts of him she respects and understands, not just from the outside looking in but personally. Basically, Rick and Michonne are each other's match in all the ways.

So in a beautiful act of resilience, Michonne fights the fear of being close to people again when she finds Rick and Carl in that house. And she truly embraces them as hers from here on out.

And I think here in this wonderful 4.09 moment when she finds Rick and Carl in that house is when Michonne more readily embraces that she feels most safe with Rick. 

In Claimed (4.11), I think we start seeing more visibly how Michonne's safety is tied to Rick and how she subconsciously senses it. In that home, both Rick and Michonne express that they need each other and are willing to possibly make a home with the two of them and Carl. An unspoken agreement that they're forever family now.

One of the many interesting things about that scene between Rick and Michonne in Claimed is that Michonne says she’s done taking breaks. But she wasn’t necessarily leaving the prison to take breaks, she was going on runs and hunting down the Governor. However, phrasing it as 'breaks' could imply that part of her constant trips away from the prison was her leaving to run from how close she was becoming to Rick and Carl - to “take a break” from becoming reintegrated into a family after the tragic aftermath of her last family turned her into a lone wolf.

But I love that when she said she’s done taking breaks she meant that and lived up to it. And then in each 4B scene, we see more and more how Michonne starts to draw closer to the Grimes boys and feel safe enough to be herself with Rick.

Rick gets to see Michonne's playful side with Carl, he wants to include her in family hunting excursions, they like talking to each other and smiling over dinner, and they both often check in on each other to make sure they’re taken care of.

By the end of season 4 when Michonne knows she’s okay because Rick's okay, I think she's now cognizant that she feels safe with Rick in a way that’s different than anything & anyone else. And truly how beautiful is it that in a world where safety is a true rarity, Michonne found that so fully in Rick. 🥹

Also, as I've detailed in many a post, this is also the point where I believe she's subconsciously fallen in love with him. 🥰

And where Rick’s previous wife and his former best friend/sheriff's deputy doubted his ability to keep people safe, Michonne trusts Rick wholeheartedly as a good man capable of protecting his family against anything. 

That's one of the great things about rewatching TWD Seasons 1 & 2. Those early seasons make it so clear that Michonne is a love Rick has never experienced before. We don’t just feel like their love is different we get to see it in how much more Michonne loves, respects, understands, believes in, and just all and all likes Rick as opposed to his former wife and best friend.

Last year I wrote a whole reflecting on richonne post about how Michonne and Rick rarely ever split up in TWD and were always paired up for most things. It was proof of their magnetism, trust, fondness for one another, and love.

But I like how now Rick and Michonne never splitting up in TWD is also such a clear sign of the safety they brought each other. And in season 5, that’s especially clear because they really are side by side through so much that season.

I think about when Michonne put her hand on Ricks before they entered Alexandria and how that was her way of offering comfort to him while also being comforted by his presence too. Just like Rick, a large reason she felt safe enough to walk out of that car and approach those ASZ gates after everything they’d been through is because she had Rick by her side.🥲 

The one time they’re not operating side by side with Rick hiding the gun plot from her, they both feel so weighed down by having anything come between them, and they're eager to repair the distance by the end of the season.

Michonne had felt both asleep and restless when they arrived at ASZ and part of it is because her source of safety was sorta losing his mind. When Rick begins his return to sanity - and Michonne really is a core source of sanity for him - we see a sense of safety return to Michonne as well as she declares she’ll always be with him.

I always adored that s5 'I’m still with you moment' and I love it even more now knowing that part of why she so confidently knows she’ll be with him no matter what is because Rick is who she feels safest with. 😭

In 6A all of Richonne's scenes continue to solidify that Michonne feels most safe with Rick. And when Rick goes out into the horde in NWO Michonne full-on panics because he’s doing something unsafe and her own safety just evaporates as she expresses a rare moment of disarray. 

And then in 6B we get to see a more personal and intimate way that Michonne feels safe with Rick. Even just walking around more stripped down in a robe and towel shows he’s made her feel super comfortable.

The heightened safety she feels with Rick is especially evident in their canon era - from the way they decompress on that couch before their first kiss, the way he calmingly reaches for her in the RV and it seems to immediately bring her peace, to just the safety to let herself be adored and loved on so fully by Rick’s good kind heart in all their comfy and sensual moments at home. 🥰

When she confides in Rick and tells him at the end of 7A that she only wants to go forward if it's with him - "you and me" - she means it.

And all through season 7 it’s clear she knows full well that the only time she truly feels safe is with him. It’s why she nearly throws in the towel - or throws in the sword - when she thinks walkers got to Rick in Say Yes and so vulnerably runs into his arms when seeing he is alive.

Michonne knew she couldn’t lose him on that honeymoon run. Not just 'I don't want to lose you,' she knew 'I can't lose you,' - something Rick too would grasp fully once taken from her for years. With soulmates like this, they lose each other, then in many ways they lose themselves.

When Michonne told Rick she couldn't lose him in Say Yes, I knew she felt it was because she loves him deeply but after TOWL it’s clear how she also knew she’d never truly feel safe again if she were to lose him. 😭 They are each other's security in this crazy world.

Then, after getting in that brutal brawl in the s7 finale, Rick makes getting to Michonne a priority and when he finds her against that wall, she just hears his voice and feels his touch and it looks like a sense of safety has been restored to her. And to Rick too.

In season 8, sirens go off in Michonne's head being away from Rick during the war and it’s clear she won’t be able to rest truly until he’s back.

And in that season's msf I’ve always felt it’s so clear that when she tells Judith she’ll bring her daddy back, Michonne is excited for both her baby girl and herself that they’ll have Rick back finally - the man who makes their family feel complete and safe. 👌🏽

After tragically losing Carl (which is forever heartbreaking 💔💔💔), both Michonne and Rick try to be a safe space for each other even despite their own immense individual pain.

And they do find their way back to each other, saying i love you and holding hands off to war because no matter the circumstances if they can hold each other they can feel a sense of safety.

And in s9, before Rick leaves, Richonne really feel so at home and safer than ever with each other. It’s a beautiful time for them and all their nice season 9 scenes show how Michonne is wrapped in the love and safety of her husband. Even literally just waking up with his arm wrapped around her.

When Michonne had some real apprehension regarding if the people could really band together after Negan, she always knew she could voice those concerns with Rick and he’d reassure her so encouragingly. Also for a woman to agree to get pregnant in an apocalypse - that requires feeling a lot of safety and Rick made Michonne feel safe enough to do that. 🥲

But then Rick is taken and it’s devastating. 💔 And with his absence, Michonne’s safety also goes away.

She had to bring the beautiful life they created into the world without him. And you can just imagine there were so many nights alone in bed during her pregnancy when she’d longed for him to be there. And so when she looks at Rick with the CRM in ep 3 and yells you were alive ‘with them’ in this episode, I always sense this added hurt because those CRM people, who don’t even appreciate Rick, got to be around him all the time while she was miles away longing for him to be with her and feeling unsafe without him.

And this profession that she only feels safe with him makes all those moments post-Rick where she’d still find ways to connect with him all the more meaningful because even after he’s gone, she still only feels at least a semblance of safety with him.

Be it through the ring she wears and even fiddles with on her finger when needing to think, a Sherriff action figure, the bullet shell from his gun that she always wears in her hair to keep him close, talking to him in their bedroom, and most notably wrapping herself in his clothes just to try to remember how safe she once felt in his arms.

It moves me so much how she still only felt safe with Rick even after he was taken from her. She tells Judith how she felt so lost after Rick was gone. And because she’s strong she figured out how to keep going of course, but the world became an ultra-dangerous place again so it makes sense why she’d become as cautious as she became. Nothing could make her truly feel safe until she was back with her true love.

And when Michonne is back with Rick in TOWL, you see that sense of safety start to come back. She has no clue where he’s taking her or how they’ll get out of this CRM place but she trusts him. She knows he’ll do anything to keep her safe.

But the surprising aspect is Rick will do anything to keep her safe…including trying to destroy being her safe space so that she’ll be willing to leave him and make it home. 🥀☹️

And that is exactly what we see happen as this heart-gripping gym scene continues. So my extra self has to do a part two to talk about the latter half of this gym scene.

I'll conclude this post by saying, “The only time I feel safe if when I’m with you” is such a deeply beautiful, meaningful, and memorable line. 😭 Black women, both in fiction and in reality, don't always get to express that innate want to feel safe with someone/something outside of ourselves and so seeing Michonne get to say that her safety doesn't just come from her but from her husband was powerful and lovely. 👏🏽

I forever love Danai for knowing Michonne would feel this way in her relationship with Rick and allowing her to voice it so perfectly and authentically here. This episode really was written by someone who knows Rick and Michonne inside and out and I adore the way Richonne is each other's truest safe space. 🥹👌🏽

[onedeadkitty]

Mizus Gender

He/him they/them she/her pronouns for Mizu

I know the writers of the show wrote blue eye samurai with Mizu as a woman disguised as a man in a way similar ish to Mulan but uh

They accidentally made it deeper than that ??

If you removed like 2 lines of dialogue in episode 5 you could even make an argument for trans masc Mizu. Or at the least gender queer.

Being transgender is not a concept in this time period. But trust. People have always wanted to be other genders, probably for the entirety of human history. And how someone would go about being trans in a world with no true understanding of the concept, might be similar to what Mizu IS DOING RIGHT NOW.

Living as a man. PERMANENTLY. Not temporarily to achieve some near goal like Mulan and the many other stories with this concept. Mizu has lived as a man nearly their entire life and no intention to ever live as a woman in the future.

Mizu admires their freshly binded chest in the mirror as a teen.

When alone Mizu refers to himself as a man.

When alone with Ringo, (someone who knows the secret) Ringo also refers to Mizu as a man.

Mizu threatens to straight kill Ringo at the the very use of the word “girl”.

When, and ONLY when seeing 2 MEN kiss does he think of Taigen.

Not to mention madame Kajis indelicate insinuation of gay sex to Mizu, something I believe wasn’t for no reason. OR Madams iconic line “you are more man than ANY come through my door” (I’m convinced she has an idea of Mizus true sex but doesn’t care to accuse or call them out for it)

They HAD lived as a woman in the past. Only for about a year, and they did it to get married for her mothers sake. To save her from a life of prostitution. She was able to be happy, because it IS POSSIBLE to be happy while not presenting how you like. It’s a strain and some can never be happy doing so but it’s possible and people do it all the time to make their lives easier or to keep the peace with family or for many other reasons.

Episode 5 gave HUGE VIBES of going back into the closet when living with your parents or just visiting. And Mizu looked SO uncomfortable and awkward in woman’s clothing and doing “wife things” (partly cause they have never done that before) and maybe it was my own projecting but I felt so uncomfortable FOR Mizu.

These things don’t necessarily mean being a transgender man specifically. Gender is actually really complicated and has ALOT to do with what society deems it.

Mizu is a masculine person. Being what Japan wants women to be isn’t in line with what Mizu is. A violent, practical, stoic, cold, masculine, confident and capable warrior.

dressing up as a woman with the makeup ONLY to try and make her husband happy. She didn’t WANT to. “To soften her husbands heart, the bride… danced” performed femininity FOR HIM. Only for Mikio to betray her for, in his eyes, being more masculine than him, by beating him in a physical fight.

Mizu is both the ronin and the bride. Mizu will be whatever they need to in order to achieve their owed deaths. They HAVE to be a man to get their revenge but that doesn’t mean Mizu WANTS to be a woman. (To be fair who WOULD in that time but I digress) and it doesn’t mean they WANT to be a man. They WANT their revenge. Everything is secondary to that.

Mizu is so different from other characters…

I grew up in a kinda misogynistic place and my mom really didn’t let me “do boy stuff” or dress masculine in any sense until my late teens. I my self don’t know if I can even call myself Trans. But I’m masculine, I like looking like a man and dressing as one but I don’t WANT to be a man necessarily. But I don’t WANT to be a woman. I feel like we as a society put to much distinction between the two and the people who don’t fit either side get left out at times.

Mizu is such a relatable character to me, like no other characters complicated feelings about their own sex and gender have ever come close.

They are for those who don’t have a strong sense of their own gender. Especially those who are biologically female and hesitant to lean into their sex because of the societal baggage.

Once people realize that how you dress, how you act, and what you do in reality have nothing to do with your bio sex and everything with what society has forced people to do based on factors out of our control is the day we can finally stop having these conversations.

Do what you want, gender is fake.

But Mizu is forever 🫶

[siflshonen]

The Greatest Robot on Earth: Astro Boy and Pluto Part I

So you’ve just watched Pluto on Netflix, but you didn’t know that it is the best Astro Boy fanfiction ever made. Great! Or maybe, hypothetically, you’ve read classic Astro Boy but don’t know about Pluto, or, as it was called for the Viz release, Pluto: UrasawaXTezuka. Well, awesome, because I’m about to give you all the details behind their creators and creation and give you a side-by-side of the classic Astro Boy and this new(ish)-fangled Pluto.

C'mon. Look under the read more line. You know you want to.

If you want to skip to the manga side-by-sides, check out part II and part III. Or, you can read the whole thing in one go on Ao3.

Context and Background

Tezuka, Urasawa, and the Showa Era

So, let me start with the basics: What is Astro Boy? What ain’t Astro Boy?

Tetsuwan Atom, known in the west as Astro Boy, is the most well-known manga created by the “Godfather of Manga/God of Manga” Osamu Tezuka in the 1950s, but it metastasized into multiple anime series, games, merch, spin offs of various types, and that one CGI movie in 2009. The series follows the adventures of robot hero Atom (called Astro in the west) as he fights for the benefit of humans and robots to create a harmonious future for both.

Here’s a timeline of Astro Boy- and Pluto-related events to help you visualize what came out when and why there were multiple runs of the Astro Boy manga. For our purposes, the most important thing to understand is that, even though Astro Boy was a kids’ series, its attitude and themes, as written by Tezuka, reflected the incredible shifts in Japan after World War II and the ever-present shadow of it still left in the minds of its citizens.

But before we get into all that, let’s talk about Osamu Tezuka himself.

Osamu Tezuka's Legacy and His Monster

If you, sweet reader, are a self-appointed weeb and you don’t know the name Osamu Tezuka, I’m personally scandalized. Still, here’s the short version: he was a workaholic mangaka that many hail as the creator of modern shonen manga (historians get heated about when, how, and if Japanese comics made the jump to modern manga, so do your own research, but Astro Boy is definitely the most famous worldwide contender for this title instead of, say, Tezuka’s first work Shin Takarajima/New Treasure Island), and he’s the guy who created the world’s first serialized made-for-TV anime with a sequential plot and sold it as a loss leader to get it on the air.

Arguably, the precedent he set in order to get the anime-ified Astro Boy to screens everywhere is a major reason that the anime industry is so unsustainable, but we’re not here to talk about that.

Tezuka-sensei was a prolific, passionate, and deeply beloved artist from Osaka who tackled damn near every manga genre and arguably created some of them before he died of stomach cancer (and overwork, if we’re being honest here.) I’ve only shown a few of the 400-plus titles he created to give a brief overview of the scope of his work. Since I’m talking to you as a fan, not a historian, I specifically chose titles I own or have read most closely.

Message to Adolf, which was also published as Adolf, is about Nazis. Okay, that’s only part of what it’s about, but we’ll revisit this one in more detail later.

Black Jack is probably Tezuka’s second most famous work, and yeah, it’s broadly categorized as a shonen. It follows the adventures of underground doctor and genius surgeon Kuroo Hazama who dresses like a vampire, acts like a black-hearted and preachy douchebag, and endears himself to everyone who interacts with him.

Dororo is a historical fantasy thriller about a guy regaining parts of his sacrificed-upon-his-birth body by slaying demons and uncovering the mysterious past of his companion, the child thief Dororo.

On the flipside, Princess Knight is a shojo for younger kids about a princess with the heart of a boy and the heart of a girl who uses her two hearts to genderbend as needed to maintain her claim over her kingdom and keep it out of the hands of the wicked.

Meanwhile, Ode to Kirihito is an extremely mature medical fantasy drama that questions when and how a person still maintains their humanity and when they become a beast in their own eyes and the eyes of others. As I’m sure you can tell, such themes exploring what humanity means are almost as common to Tezuka’s works as a medical professional featuring as a main character. He needed to use his degree for something, I suppose.

In fact, the common conflict between Tezuka’s bright, young, optimistic, passionate, independently-minded, and opinionated doctor main characters and the corrupt, constricting, slow-moving, old-fashioned medical institution probably offers the most insight as to why Tezuka chose to pursue manga over medicine. I don’t think this was the only reason, but from reading his manga, I feel founded in asserting that the stifling status quo of established medicine was a contributing factor.

Tezuka never made any bones about putting himself and his feelings directly in his work. He spoke what was on his mind throughout his manga, and his introductions to various Astro Boy stories are no exception. He was also transparent about his struggle to make sure his works maintained popularity even when he resented any changes others suggested he make  in pursuit of this goal. In general, Tezuka-sensei didn’t take kindly to the idea of others influencing the direction of his creative visions basically ever, if the story of the Jungle Emperor: Onward, Leo! anime is any indication. (He’s just like me for real.)

If Tezuka-sensei wanted to write about war, he did. If he wanted to write about rape or trauma or abortion or racism, he did. He jumped on the chance to write about sex ed and, well, several of those other topics in Apollo’s Song.

If that scares you, don’t worry. Most of the time, Astro Boy was usually about the nature of war, human rights, the nature of humanity, and robots. It was also written for grade school kids.

Tezuka’s penchant for frank honesty wasn’t limited to commentary made within his manga, but also about his manga, and his statements on Astro Boy are some of his more standout claims on that front. That he called Atom a “monster” and said he created him “for the exposure and the money” doesn’t paint a flattering picture of his attitude towards his most famous work.

But, in truth, his distaste for compromising the truth of his characters at others’ suggestions probably betrays his real feelings about Atom. As much as he may be Tezuka’s monster, he is also his pure-hearted hero of justice and beloved creation. And, by his own admission, his feelings towards his work during the creation of “The Greatest Robot on Earth”, the Astro Boy story on which Pluto is based, were distinctly positive (even if at one point the background characters remark that Atom is a monster!)

The readership’s opinions on “The Greatest Robot on Earth” were likewise pretty positive. Among those readers was Naoki Urasawa, who credits the story with inspiring his deep love of manga. (His recounting of the impression the story left on him in this interview with Netflix Anime is incredibly sweet.)

Naoki Urasawa and His Monster

Who is Naoki Urasawa, besides the guy who co-wrote and illustrated the 2003 Pluto manga? Well, Urasawa-sensei is my favorite mangaka, so jot that down, and he’s known for his suspense thrillers, layered narratives, melodramatic showstopper moments, and also stories about cute girls doing sports. He is also a musician and guest professor alongside his editor and Pluto co-writer, Takashi Nagasaki.

20th Century Boys, named in part for a T.Rex song, is arguably his most famous work and it is heavy on the 1960s-1970s nostalgia, but in a good way! The inherent optimism, kindness, hope, and passion (and sometimes outright cheese) of every Urasawa character and title never feels insincere. The series is a seinen with the heart and whimsy of a shonen (and personally, I feel like such a description holds true for even Uraswa’s darker works.) 

If you don’t want to read 20th Century Boys or its sequel, 21st Century Boys, you can watch the live-action movie adaptations.

Meanwhile, Monster is my favorite manga and anime. Herr Doktor Tenma (yeah, like Astro Boy’s Tenma), a Japanese brain surgeon practicing in 1980s Germany, saves the life of a little boy only to learn years later that the kid is a mass murderer, his murdering ways continue into his adulthood, and he will likely never be caught. Only Tenma knows the truth, so he embarks on a quest to stop the “monster” he revived. 

I have less familiarity with Yawara! and Happy!, but the first is a sports comedy about a girl struggling to balance an athletic career and a normal life, and the second is a sports drama about a girl pursuing tennis to avoid becoming a prostitute. 

Pineapple Army is about an ex-merc’s adventures working as a self-defense instructor. Urasawa illustrated this one, but did not write it. I suppose I could have included Billy Bat as a representative work instead, but I honestly didn’t want to start unpacking that—though I will say that Billy Bat is probably the closest answer Urasawa has to Tezuka’s Message to Adolf since they both spin around the concept of a rumor or idea causing the world to lose its collective mind.

So what motivated Urasawa to add Pluto to his body of work? Mostly his editor/producer and co-writer, Takashi Nagasaki, probably. Er, that’s not very flattering. Let me try again.

Japanese media loves to emphasize passing its passions and convictions to the new generations (source: have you ever read or watched a mainstream action shonen in your life? If you’ve been paying attention to anything I’ve written about My Hero Academia or read the manga itself, I’m sure you think as much as I do that pointing out such a thing feels like beating a dead horse), and Urasawa’s (and later, the M2 team’s) motivation in creating Pluto is no exception. As Urasawa put it in his Netflix interview, “It’s like we received the baton from Tezuka-sensei, and would pass it on to the new generation."

And Osamu Tezuka-sensei’s son, Macoto Tezka (who probably spells his name that way so people don’t get him mixed up with his dad) let Urasawa and Nagasaki do it so long as they made sure the new retelling was something new, exciting, and unique when compared to the original! And while the pressure to succeed in this endeavor probably damn well near killed Urasawa-sensei, I think Tezka made the right call!

But if the goal was to pass on this Astro Boy story, which was written by a REALLY old dude, beloved by kinda-old dudes to the new generation, and practically unheard-of by today’s anklebiters, what kind of direction was the damn thing meant to take?! And why was the answer “fantasy Gulf War Astro Boy fanfiction”?!

Astro Boy in the Eyes of the New Breed

Astro Boy may be a series meant for younger kids, but it didn’t exist in a vacuum separate from the climate of the world from which it came. Tezuka would probably roll over in his grave if it did. The work, its messages, and its sensibilities were grade-A, postwar Showa stuff—particularly its reflections on pacifism, war, and power. 

Nagasaki’s summation from the postscript of Pluto: UrasawaXTezuka volume 8 sums up Tezuka and his generation’s outlook pretty handily, but I think it’s helpful to show exemplify this outlook and contrast it with the outlook of Nagasaki and Urasawa’s generation through manga!

Please observe this key moral-of-the-story panel from “The Greatest Robot on Earth” published in 1964 alongside this panel from late-1980s Dragonball featuring Muten Roshi stating the core idea of his series. I’ve chosen Dragonball as a point of comparison not just because of its notoriety as a big shonen title created for a similar audience as the original Astro Boy, but because creator Akira Toriyama was born in 1955 and, much like his contemporary Urasawa, who was born in 1960, “The Greatest Robot on Earth” left a deep impression on him. (Despite what the caption implies, the photographed page in this tweet actually features Toriyama’s admiration of Tezuka, though I don’t doubt the article from which it is pulled also includes Tezuka’s feelings about Toriyama. I ran it through Google Translate a few times and then laughed when I realized Toriyama made a self-deprecating joke about his poor reading skills, since he points out that he was in third grade when he read “The Greatest Robot on Earth” in the magazine Second Grader.)

To Astro Boy’s Ochanomizu, strength ain’t all that great, and strength for strength’s sake is foolish and vain. In fact, Professor Ochanomizu, who is the moral compass for most Astro Boy adventures, doesn’t value the pursuit of strength the way modern shonen, and several other characters within his own series, do. Hell, he doesn’t give Uran any superpowers even though Atom, the robot boy with nuclear power fueling his 100,000 horsepower (later 1,000,000 horsepower) and seven special powers is her brother! 

At the time of Ochanomizu’s creation, real-life Japan still freshly remembered World War II and the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki; no the fuck Ochanomizu (and Tezuka, through him) wasn’t about to endorse or create robots that doubled as weapons. That nonsense was for other, “more violent” robot manga, or the slew of other misguided and corrupt roboticists within the Astro Boy canon. Well, except there was that one time Ochanomizu helped create the artificial sun, but he didn’t ever intend for it to become a weapon.

Meanwhile, while Roshi also does not believe in strength for strength’s sake, he absolutely pursues it and encourages his pupils to do the same while fostering their awareness of the hardship, dangers, and fun of their path. Even with his warning, the Dragonball cast’s pursuit of strength is portrayed as alluring despite the double-edge, much like promoting national pride (and power) increases a nation’s convictions in its unity and identity but also draws the negative attention of other, possibly more powerful nations. Andy Yee succinctly frames this still-impending crossroads about how Japan might use its nationalism—its “pursuit of strength” in Dragonball lingo—in his 2013 article “The Twin Faces of Japanese Nationalism”. In it, he quotes this 2012 Project Syndicate article by Joseph S. Nye, Jr. pointing out that nationalism could be a force for positivity if tempered with reform and control, but could also cause the country to start conflict with its neighbors and shit the bed if left to run wild. (The conversation surrounding the topic of Japanese nationalism continues beyond 1980s manga or the 2013 socio-political scene, of course.)

Unlike Atom or Ochanomizu, Dragonball’s Goku finds such attention alluring: his heart’s desire is to fight strong opponents. It is his ikigai (“reason to live”) and at the end of the Cell Games, it becomes his, uh, shinigai (“reason to die”), if you will.

Did I lose you? I just asserted that the messages in these shonen about acquiring strength = messages about acquiring national pride and power. At its best, the Dragonball-esque attitude towards increasing national pride (and combat strength) is empowering, inspirational, and bolsters the good-hearted. At its worst, it could feed into a cycle of toxicity, unproductive self-importance and, ultimately, flat-out Japanese nationalism and war (and at its stupidest, it just becomes Let’s Fighting Love. Protect my balls.) Since classic Dragonball is a gag manga, I doubt Toriyama was ever thinking this hard about the messages of his work in regards to world history, but that’s sort of the point: Toriyama and his generation likely weren’t thinking this hard about it. Dragonball’s authorship lacks the crushing, firsthand memory of the consequences of unbalanced and misused power that the authorship of Astro Boy has.

In other words, Astro Boy’s cast pursued scientific advancement while lamenting the inevitable folly and destruction mankind brought forth with it so that Son Goku could fish naked, kick ass, get his ass kicked, meet god, kick ass, ghost god, ghost his family and friends, come back, kick more ass, repeat this cycle like twice, and get everyone to thank him for it. Dragonball’s more optimistic, power-fantasy-ish outlook broadly categorizes the outlook generation of New Breeds (shinjinrui) born around the 1960s like Toriyama, Urasawa, and Nagasaki before the reality introduced in their emerging adulthood hit them like a fucking truck.

The New Breed generation earned its name because their outlook and values, which were developed during a time of economic plenty and peace, seemed totally divorced from the values of the generations that lived during or immediately after World War II.

“They might as well be a different species,” snarked their elders, probably, though not necessarily out of bland hatred—Yoshiyuki Tomino’s Gundam series portrays his Newtypes, who are meant to be at least somewhat analogous to the real-life shinjinrui, in a generally more sympathetic light and occasionally a positive one (if they aren’t being used by someone else, that is.)

Tomino, who was born in 1941, also worked on Astro Boy at Mushi Pro.

Baggage between generations is not unique to any one country, obviously. But in this case, it seems Urasawa and Nagasaki decided to tap into it and incorporate the core beliefs, hopes, and grief of their generation and those of the generations before them into Pluto. 

Taking this approach was also the perfect excuse for Urasawa to distill everything he knew and loved about Tezuka’s works into one transformative manga. And don’t just trust Tomohiko Murakami on that—trust me as a fan of both Tezuka and Urasawa. It’s very noticeable that Urasawa and Nagasaki pulled from all things Tezuka to create Pluto even as it incorporated new ideas, including criticism of the Gulf War.

…So it’s probably a good thing I took the time to explain all this stuff to you so that you can now start to see it too! You can thank me later. Let’s see how the classic “The Greatest Robot on Earth” compares to Pluto.

[starlightkun]

⇢ word count: 20.8k ⇢ warnings: past unethical experimentation, brief blood and gore descriptions (some human and some non-human), you have to accept the premise of a single human empire in space in the future with colonies and a military and not think deeper about that, multiple needle/injection mentions, knife/injury/blood description, main characters are morally gray, and oh yeah cursing ⇢ genre: sci-fi, set in the near-ish future, humans and aliens and robots, black op mission, captain kun, ?????? reader, slow burn, fluff, dash of angst, ft. wayv as the crew of the vision ⇢ extra info: took a lot of obvious inspo for this one from isaac asimov’s robot stories, specifically his concept of positronic brains & the three laws of robotics (and if you’ve read any of his stories, you’ll probably be able to see some other places too) ⇢ series masterlist | prev. | next

“You deserve to know that I’m not entirely human.”

“Is that really how you feel? Inhuman?”

“There are parts of me that are… manufactured. Irrevocably altered. I don’t think I remember how it felt before I was like this.”

The next morning, you were awake early again. You stared into the darkness, listening to Dejun’s breathing. The distant sounds of two voices started getting closer, and you perked up at this. If some of the others were up, you’d be more than happy to join them, see if they needed any help getting breakfast together.

Just as you’d swung your legs over the side of your cot to stand, you heard the distinct sound of your name float in as it sounded like they had stopped right at the campfire. They were keeping their voices low, but it did little to help with the absolute silence all around. You paused, overwhelmed with curiosity.

“I asked Xiao last night, if he thinks Y/N will ever remember.” The first voice was Kun, and you looked at the sleeping doctor in front of you curiously. You could only imagine this conversation happened before you walked into the captain’s tent last night.

“Yeah?” It was Kunhang with him. “What’d he say?”

“He can’t say for sure at this point, since he doesn’t know what caused it.”

“Useful.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Part of me hopes she doesn’t remember.” Kunhang let out a bitter sigh with his words.

“What?” Kun responded, and you imagined that his face was as bewildered as yours was right now. Why wouldn’t Kunhang want you to regain your memories?

“Dude, you saw where we found her.”

“God, yeah. The sort of shit she probably saw.”

“Or did. She’s the only survivor. You don’t exactly get through Hell by being sweet and virtuous.”

Kun’s voice was surprisingly harsh, “We don’t know—”

“Hey, no judgment here. Who knows what she had to do to survive. I wouldn’t want to remember that either.”

“Her hands were clean when we found her.”

“A bit too clean, don’t you think?” A third voice had joined them now, Ten.

“Maybe she hid early, got out before the worst of it.” Kun was still vehemently defending you.

“You think the same person who pulls people out of the way of falling ceiling chunks without thinking is a coward?”

“I’m saying we don’t know anything.”

“And I’m just saying something’s not right about how Y/N ended up in there, Captain.”

“Nothing here is right, Ten. This facility, the experiments, the Skippers, all of it.”

“And you’re letting the only person left who might be responsible for it walk around free.”

“I wouldn’t call being stuck with all of us ‘free.’”

“But it’s not exactly a prisoner’s watch.”

“Because she’s not a prisoner. For all we know they could’ve been experimenting on her—”

“Or she’s part of that vague They we keep referring to.”

There was a moment of tense silence—or at least it sure felt strained to you from inside your tent, you had to imagine it was suffocating out there—before Kun spoke again. “We have no clue what was going on here, and no proof that she did anything. Until we know anything for certain, I’m not going to treat her like a criminal.”

“I’m not saying you have to. Look, I like her too, she seems like a nice person, but maybe—”

A loud yawn came from your roommate’s cot, and the conversation outside suddenly ceased. Dejun sat up slowly, rubbing sleep out of his eye as he let out another forceful yawn.

“Oh, morning, Y/N,” he greeted you, stretching and groaning. “Sleep okay?”

“Yeah, I uh, I just woke up,” you replied awkwardly. A couple minutes could be classified as just, you were pretty sure. “How about you? Sleep okay?”

“Mm, like a baby. You’re a much better bunkmate than Liu. Kid talks in his sleep. Recites code and equations.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little at the mental image, momentarily distracted from the conversation you’d just been listening to. “That’s rather unfortunate for Ten and Kunhang then.”

Dejun shrugged. “Wong shouldn’t have been such a weirdo, then he might’ve been your roomie.”

He stood up then, groaning as he leaned over to touch his toes, then reached up and fully stretched his arms over his head. “Alright, breakfast?”

Ten and Kunhang had just started on breakfast when you left your tent, and apparently didn’t need any help, so with nothing better left to do and a lot on your mind, you turned down the paths between the fields. The artificial sun had already risen, full daylight around you, making it easy to keep your eyes on the ground under your feet. It wasn’t long until you heard footsteps behind you. You stopped in your tracks and turned to see who it was.

“Don’t tell me I’m late for breakfast again,” you groaned. “I’ve been gone for two minutes.”

“No, you’re not,” Kun informed you, putting his hands in his pockets as he stopped in front of you. “Can I join you? On your walk?”

You put your hands on your hips, suspicious. “Why?”

“Why do I want to walk with you?”

“Yeah. The exit doors are within view of camp.”

“I don’t think you’re trying to escape. If you managed to get out of the facility, your only two options would be a K’llor ship that you don’t know the state of, and our ship that has ZEN on it, who would never let you past the entry bay, much less off the surface. I don’t think you’re that stupid. Are you?”

“No. Glad we’re on the same page.”

“So… was that a no on the walk?”

“You didn’t answer my question, Kun,” you replied frankly. “You’re not as good at that as you think you are.”

“At what? Avoiding?”

“Yes, like you’re doing now. Why do you want to walk with me?”

“You went on a walk with Liu yesterday, did you interrogate him beforehand as well?”

“You’re still not answering my question, you’re just asking me more questions.”

He rubbed his face and sighed. “You know, never mind.”

You let out an incredulous laugh. “Really? You just fold like that?”

“Clearly you want to be alone. I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t say that. All I did was ask you a simple question that you apparently can’t answer.”

“Ten and Wong are almost done with breakfast, I’d get going on that walk if I were you.”

“Fine.” You held your hands up. “I’ll be back in five minutes.”

Five minutes wasn’t nearly long enough for your liking, but as promised, you were back at the camp for breakfast. Kun and Dejun were already discussing something when you got back, Ten and Kunhang made you a bit uneasy after the conversation you overheard this morning, so you were pleasantly surprised when the Professor intercepted you, already with two plates of food in his hands.

“Want to eat with me?” He offered. “We can talk about plans for today.”

“Sure, Professor,” you accepted the food from him gratefully.

“I don’t think the notes will be too excessive for you to go through,” he began. “ZEN came equipped with the UHN’s entire language database, including what few Outspacer glyphs they had. My notes are just additions to that gathered during this mission—it’s not my focus language back in academia, so you’re not going to be reviewing years’ worth of research or anything.”

“What is your focus language then? For your xenolinguistics?”

The Professor momentarily looked over your shoulder, then back to you. “Ourogish.”

You tilted your head curiously. “Can you… make all those sounds?”

“I speak with an accent. But it’s passable.”

So they were doing something involving Ourogos and/or the Ourogi. Didn’t help much more, but it was information.

“So any corrections, missing links, anything you can give me and ZEN will be a help,” the Professor continued.

“I mean, I don’t know how good of a teacher I’ll be… I don’t even remember learning it.”

“Don’t worry, ZEN and I are quick learners.”

The other five left right after breakfast, and you were left with the Professor and ZEN. You took the Professor’s tablet that contained all of his notes under the shade of a tree in one of the nearby orchards. Resting your cheek in your palm, you started in on the file that had already been opened for you. You doubted ZEN would let you access anything else that was on here. The AI was projecting himself as a small cube above your knees, slowly bobbing up and down like a buoy in the ocean, but otherwise quiet as you worked.

The Professor, meanwhile, was restless, asking you what you were doing every two minutes, as he did something to the tree you were under, which you could hear by the rustling of branches and leaves.

After the fifth interruption, you finally told him through gritted teeth, “You know, Professor, this would go much faster if you didn’t stop me every two minutes.”

“Right. Sorry!” And he went back to messing with the tree.

A few moments later, he plopped down next to you, breathless, and held a plum out to you. You looked between him and the deep maroon fruit before accepting it.

“You seem off,” he said.

“What?” You mumbled, setting your plum aside.

“You seem off.”

“Do I?”

“Pissed that you have a babysitter?”

“Aren’t you pissed that you got landed with babysitting duty?”

He shrugged, taking a bite of his plum. “I’m a civvie, remember? I’d much rather stick back here and talk about a dead language than go look at a bunch of alien corpses.”

You made a noise of acknowledgment, still combing through his notes on syntax.

“So… What’d you do?”

“What?”

“To get put in time out. What’d you do that you need a babysitter?”

You let out a frustrated sigh, pushing some of your hair back from your face. “I deserve it, I know I do. It’s perfectly reasonable for Kun to stick me in camp all day but—I hate it.”

“Come on, you can tell me.” He nudged you with his elbow. “Us civvies have got to stick together, you know. What’d you do?”

“We were walking through the facility yesterday, and a piece of ceiling came loose. I didn’t even think about it, I just pulled Kun back so it didn’t hit him.”

The Professor burst into laughter, a stray drop of plum juice dribbling down his chin as he coughed through it. He sat forward, hitting himself on the chest with a fist. “Oh my God, that’s really good.”

“What’s so funny about that? I’m a liability, he had every right to leave me here with a babysitter.”

“Well, yes,” he chuckled. “If you’re going to be trying to save the guy in Class-V armor as an unarmored civilian with nothing but a rebreather, that’s a little concerning. But it’s also pretty funny. I bet that’s the first time Captain’s been genuinely surprised in years.”

“I’m glad you can see some humor in the situation.” You put your cheek back in your palm, striking out an error in his notes and starting the correction. “I think I ruined my chances of ever leaving the ag bubble again until you all take me to UHN Main for debriefing.”

“It’s not so bad in here.”

“Yeah, but… everything’s out there. Whoever I am, whatever I’ve done, whatever I wanted to do, whoever I wanted to be, is out there, was out there. And I’m stuck in here grading.”

The Professor was quiet, and for a second you were worried that he was offended at your comparison between his notes and a grade-schooler’s homework until he spoke. “Would it change anything?”

“What?”

“If you remembered? If you found out who you were, what you’ve done, what you wanted to do, who you wanted to be? Would it change anything?”

“How could it not?”

“Would you decide that’s who you are now, just because that’s who you were?”

“I-I mean, it was me. I’m not a different person just because I lost my memory.”

“How do you know? You just said, you don’t know who you were, what you’ve done, what sort of future you wanted for yourself.”

“Well…”

“Y/N, what do you want for your life?”

“To remember what it is. My life.”

“And if you can’t? Right now, what do you to do? What sort of person do you want to be?”

“I-I guess I want to be an okay person. Like, pretty good to the people around me? And, live a life that I like? I don’t know a lot about what I like, but I guess I’d figure that out, and do more of that stuff?”

“That’s good. That’s a pretty good aspiration, actually.”

“Isn’t it kind of boring?”

“A little.” He shrugged. “But maybe, the person you were before you lost your memory, didn’t want that. Maybe you wanted something that you would now consider to be bad. Imagine if the you before this wanted to kick as many puppies as possible before you died.”

“Why—”

“It’s a hypothetical. Do you want to do that, right now?”

“No, of course not.”

“If you found out, right now, that you wanted to do that before you lost your memory, would that change anything? Would you suddenly want to kick puppies?”

You crossed your arms. “No.”

“And do you want to crusade for Universal Peace until the end of your days?”

“That… sounds very tiring.”

“Yes? No?”

“Probably not.”

“So if you found out that the you before you lost your memory was dedicating your life to doing that, would you suddenly want to? Would that change anything?”

You took a deep breath. “No.”

“Obviously, it’s got to suck not remembering friends or family or anything like that. But you’re still a person without those memories, Y/N. You’re still you, just whoever you are now.”

“Thanks, Professor.” You smiled a little, spinning the stylus around in your fingers.

“Now, why did you cross that out?” He pointed to the section you had been absentmindedly correcting. “I could’ve sworn I had gotten that listing function correct.”

“You were close!”

“You completely scribbled it out.”

That night, you were helping Ten and Kunhang prepare dinner again.

“Everything okay, Y/N?” Ten asked as the two of you shucked some corn.

“Yeah, fine,” you answered shortly, tossing a corn husk onto the pile at your feet. “Why?”

“You seem a bit…”

“Off?” You guessed.

“Yeah.”

“That’s what the Professor said earlier.”

“Something happen with the captain?” Kunhang questioned from where he was chopping up ingredients with a pocketknife and plastic container as his cutting board.

You pressed your lips together in a line before replying. “I don’t know. Why are you asking?”

“He uh, he said he was going to join you on your walk this morning. And then came back alone.”

“We had an argument, I guess. It was about nothing.”

“Y/N—”

“No, seriously, it wasn’t anything of substance.” You huffed, grabbing your next cob. “I asked him why he wanted to walk with me, he refused to answer. That’s it.”

There was an odd pause, and you turned your gaze up to see the other two exchanging a look.

Ten spoke next, “Well I’m sure being stuck in the ag bubble with the Professor all day wasn’t fun either.”

“The Professor wasn’t the problem. Sucked being put in timeout. Rightfully so, but it still sucked.” You had finished with your ears of corn, and took them over to Kunhang’s makeshift station.

“So you saved him from getting concussed by falling ceiling with no concern for your own safety, big deal,” Kunhang scoffed, gesturing wildly with both hands as he talked. “If you ask me, that kind of instinct is a good thing. Bit hypocritical for the captain to be punishing you for it anyway.”

Ten watched Kunhang waving the knife around warily. “Careful with that thing, Wong, you’re gonna—”

As Ten was talking, Kunhang had tried to spin the knife around his finger by the handle, but you knew it wasn’t going to be successful, grabbing the spinning blade before it could take his finger off. And before you even realized what you were doing. The action registered in your mind at the same time the sharp edge cutting open your palm did, and you let out a yip of surprise and pain, dropping the knife to the ground.

“—take someone’s eye out.” Ten finished his sentence almost absentmindedly, staring at you with wide eyes.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck—” Kunhang cursed as you all watched blood well up in your hand from the cut. “Captain Qian’s going to kill me.”

“Well don’t just stare, go get Xiao!” Ten scolded his teammate, getting to his feet. “Or—fuck! ZEN! Where’s Xiao? Tell him to get over here!”

“Shit, Y/N!” Kunhang was scrambling around for something. “God damn it! Don’t we have paper towels or something?”

“What the hell is going on out here?” Kun emerged from his tent, annoyed gaze quickly flitting over all three of you before zeroing in on your hand and turning hard. He made it over to you in three quick strides, taking your hand by your fingertips to avoid where your blood had started to drip down your forearm to your elbow.

He looked down at the ground, and saw the knife at your feet glinting in the firelight. “What happened?”

Ten took the lead, “Wong was—”

When the captain immediately turned on him, Kunhang quickly jumped to defend himself.

“No, no, listen, I didn’t—Okay, yes, I probably shouldn’t have been trying out tricks with the knife, but Y/N just grabbed it. I didn’t do this to her,” he pleaded with Kun, then look at you desperately. “Y/N, tell him, come on.”

Kun turned back to you, a frank eyebrow raised. You looked between the three of them and nodded. “He’s telling the truth, Kun.”

“Wong, stop doing knife tricks,” Kun ordered sharply.

Kunhang gulped. “Sir, yes sir.”

“ZEN, call off Xiao,” Kun commanded, making the other two exchange a worried look. The captain’s tone was still biting as he addressed the AI again, “Of course not, tell him I’ve got her.”

Then Kun was ushering you towards his tent, and you obliged. The flap had been clipped up when you entered, and you noted that he unhooked it after him, letting it hang closed and unzipped. He nodded towards his own cot for you to sit, and you did so hesitantly, holding your non-injured hand under your elbow to catch the blood that you were now very aware was dripping onto anything under you.

Kun rooted around in a pack at the end of the cot, then pulled up and sat on the container that had served as your seat last night when you administered his injection. He unhooked his canteen from his waist, putting a towel across his knees before he flushed the wound and washed your arm. He patted your arm dry, and grabbed a flashlight from one of his pockets to shine onto your hand to get a closer look at the cut. It was a thin slice across most of your palm, but the majority of it didn’t look too terribly deep at least. More blood rushed to the surface again as he clicked the flashlight off and put it away, grabbing his next materials.

Kun didn’t even need to speak for you to feel the disappointment seeping off of him. He silently pressed a gauze pad to the slice, and you felt both a dull pressure and sharp sting, gritting your teeth against it to avoid making a sound. As he started wrapping bandages around the site, you finally put some kind of words together.

“I don’t know who I used to be, before I lost my memory,” you started quietly, and he flicked his gaze up from your hand to your eyes for a moment before looking back down at his task. “And it’s going to take a while for me to figure out who I am now. Maybe my whole life. But I know that I can’t stand the thought of seeing anybody, any of you, getting hurt if I can do something about it.”

“You’re telling me you’re going to keep doing stuff like this?” He was still meticulously wrapping your palm.

“Yes. And you can keep me in camp, have the other guys babysit me, whatever you need to do for your mission. But I didn’t want to make some promise to you that I know I’m not going to keep.”

Kun sat up straight again, having finished with bandaging your hand. He held your gaze steadily this time. “I suppose I should thank you for your candidness, and not lying to me just to get out of here.”

“Was that you actually thanking me, or…?”

“Let’s make a deal, since I’m not keen on making you a prisoner in the ag bubble for however long we’re here, you’ve proven yourself useful, and I need my crew out there and not on… babysitting duty.”

You perked up at this. “Okay, what are the terms?”

“I assume Xiao has already asked you to give me the injections?”

“He’s mentioned it. I’m not sure why he thinks I’d convince you any better, but you need them, Kun.”

“You can give me the injections every night, no complaining, no skipping. And you can leave the ag bubble with at least one of us. But whenever you do some stupid thing like this, you come get me, okay? I’m the captain, which makes everyone here my responsibility, including you.”

You nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Kun held out a hand, and you eagerly shook it with your non-bandaged one.

“So, I will see you back here after mess then.” He stood, starting to clean up.

“See you then.” You nodded, standing and slipping back out of his tent.

The others had all returned to camp, and Dejun immediately threw his hands up in disbelief as he saw you coming back over.

“What the hell?” He reached for your arm to inspect the bandages. “First I have ZEN telling me you have a medical emergency back at camp, then thirty seconds later he’s telling me there’s direct orders from the captain that I don’t need to come back for your medical emergency because he’s going to take care of it? Did the captain go to med school in the fifteen minutes I was gone?”

“It was just a cut, Dejun,” you reassured him, nevertheless letting him turn over the injured hand. “Clean cut, no debris in the wound, it just needed to be cleaned and bandaged up.”

He rolled his eyes, letting you go. “God, why am I here? Everybody’s a doctor now!”

Mess was a quiet and short affair, and you swore Kunhang scooped out an extra big portion for you tonight. After, everyone tended to their post-mess duties, and you kept an eye on Dejun in your periphery. You weren’t sure how much the others knew about Kun's injections, so you figured intercepting him in your tent to let him know was the safest choice. When Dejun ducked into your tent, you looked at the couple dishes that Ten was still drying and you would then need to put away.

“Hey, uh, I’m sorry, but do you mind if I go ask Dejun for something?” You asked them sheepishly, hoping they wouldn’t have any questions for that extremely vague question.

“Oh, shit, your hand!” Ten looked down at it. “Yeah, of course, I’m sure your endorphins have worn off by now, it must hurt like a bitch. Go, we can finish up.”

You hadn’t really thought much about the dull, persistent pain throughout dinner. Sure, it felt a bit uncomfortable whenever you bent or closed your palm, but that wasn’t really in the forefront of your mind. After all, you having a cut palm right now was much more manageable than Kunhang missing a finger for the rest of his life.

You bit down on your lip, feeling a little bad about misleading them, but then shot them a quick smile. “Thanks, guys.”

Hurrying over to your tent, you barely caught Dejun before he left, nearly toppling him over, in fact.

“Jeez, Y/N, see a ghost?” He stumbled back. He was still in his casual clothes, one of his medic packs around his hips like usual.

“No, sorry, didn’t mean to hit you,” you apologized. “I just wanted to find you before you went to Kun’s tent.”

“Why? Everything okay with your hand?” He asked.

“Huh?” You looked down at your hand, having once again forgotten that it was injured for a moment. “Oh, no, I’m okay—”

“I don’t mean to be abrasive, but can it wait? It usually takes at least fifteen minutes of coercion on a good day before he’ll let me do it. If he even does.”

“That’s why I’m here. Kun agreed to let me give him the injections. Every night, no complaining and no skipping,” you explained, watching as his face turned into a deep frown. “That’ll be okay, right? It’s just med-pods, those are designed for soldiers to use on themselves and each other in the field with no medical training.”

“Yeah, I’ve just been doing it because it’s kind of a weird angle for him to get to on his own, and I couldn’t trust him to do it every night himself.” Dejun slowly unzipped the pack, still with that same look on his face.

“Then… what’s wrong? You look worried.”

“Captain Qian just agreed to let you do the injections? Out of the blue?”

“We did make a deal,” you admitted, watching as he pulled a couple things out of the pack.

Dejun’s eyes shot up to yours as he placed a med-pod and alcohol wipe in your clean hand. “And what was your end? Stop catching flying knives with your bare hands?”

“Not quite… We both know I’ll probably do something like that again, so—”

“House arrest? Can’t leave the ag bubble until the mission is over?”

“When I leave the ag bubble, I have to be with one of you guys.”

Dejun didn’t conceal his unimpressed look very well. He probably wasn’t trying to.

“And when I do something like this again,” you held up your injured hand, “I have to tell him, since he’s responsible for everyone.”

The doctor rolled his eyes and scoffed, “Uh-huh. Go, I don’t want to give snark to the wrong person.”

“What—”

“Go. You need to give the captain his injection, remember?”

“Right. Uh, see you in a bit.” You tucked the materials into your pocket before ducking out of your tent.

The entrance to Kun’s tent was still down and unzipped, and you stopped outside, having learned your lesson last night. Hesitantly, you called out his name instead.

“Come in.”

You quickly parted the flap and slipped inside.

Kun was sitting on his cot already, and when he had appraised that you were alone, you saw his features contort from their usual stoic default to a slight wince. You pulled up the container seat next to him, and gestured for him to lie down.

“How’s your hand?” He asked, staying upright as he reached for your extremity.

“It’s fine, Kun,” you informed him, letting him look over the bandages. “Honestly, I keep forgetting about it, it barely even hurts.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. Now come on, your turn.” You took your hand back and pointed insistently at the cot.

He grabbed at his lower back and huffed a little bit as he maneuvered around to lay on his front. You frowned thoughtfully as he pulled up the hem of his shirt for you.

“Is the med-pod as effective as before?” You questioned, opening the disinfectant wipe.

“How do you mean?”

You delicately wiped the area, careful not to touch his skin with your fingers. “Is it wearing off faster? Does it not relieve as much pain as before?”

“I can’t be using up all our supplies.”

“Is that a yes?”

“One is fine.”

“But two would be more effective.”

“I can’t be using twice as many as before. If someone else needs them—”

“The UHN won’t resupply your vessel?”

He sighed. “They will. I’m just—I don’t know. I’m used to scarcity and self-reliance. Must be a Dura-Jil boy thing.”

You lined the med-pod up, and like last night, didn’t give a countdown before pressing the start button. “Is this your first crew?”

“Why would you ask that?”

“Because you said you’re used to self-reliance. If you’d been a captain for a while, you would have gotten used to relying on others, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah, they are,” he chuckled fondly. “I do rely on them. Or I’m learning to, I guess.”

There was a pause, and as you watched the med-pod drain you felt a sense of urgency, not wanting to waste the opportunity you had in front of you. The conversation you’d heard this morning was still on your mind.

“What if it turns out that I was involved in whatever was going on here? Did horrible stuff…” You asked tentatively. “Then what’ll you do?”

“I don’t think you were,” he replied simply.

“You don’t know. I don’t know.”

“Call it a hunch.”

“I won’t resist, or try to escape. Whatever the UHN wants to do with me, I’ll comply fully,” you declared, quiet but firm in your convictions.

He turned to look at you over his shoulder, brow furrowed. “Why are you talking like you’ve already been put on trial and found guilty? You just said it yourself, we don’t know anything. Either way.”

“Yeah, but we know they weren’t doing good things here… and I’m here.”

“No, we don’t even know what they were doing here. Somebody made sure of that. Besides, you could’ve been scrubbing the floors for all we know. I don’t think you deserve the death sentence for that.”

“I doubt they had people scrubbing the floors…” You pointed out.

“I’m just saying, there’s other reasons you could’ve been here, Y/N.”

“Like… being experimented on.”

“I didn’t want to say anything.” His gaze and his tone softened. “Do you… You don’t remember anything like that, do you?”

“No, I don’t have any episodic memories before meeting you. But that’s what you were thinking, right? That I was either the experimenter or the subject?”

“You weren’t wearing a lab coat when we found you, and you don’t have a neural port.”

“Dejun doesn’t have a neural port, and he’s UHN.”

“We don’t know enough to think anything about anything, okay?”

“ZEN should be finished with synthesizing the Outspacer into his translation program by morning. We can go through the computer tomorrow,” you reiterated yours and the Professor’s report from the pre-mess meeting. “With any luck, there will be employee profiles.”

“And what will you be hoping to find in them?”

“The truth.” The med-pod clicked off then, and you reached out to grab the empty device. “Whatever that is.”

Kun sat up, keeping his eyes on you as you went to stand. Your task was done for the night, so was your time with him.

“Why do you seem so convinced that you were involved?” He questioned, drawing you back into conversation and stopping you from leaving entirely.

“I… know too much, Kun.” You shook your head. “Why do you seem so convinced that I wasn’t?”

“You said it yourself, Y/N. You can’t stand the thought of seeing anybody get hurt if you can do something about it. I find it hard to believe that you’d do something like… whatever what going on here.”

“Dejun said that humans can do really bad stuff if they think they’re doing the right thing. Even to each other. Maybe I just thought it was the right thing.”

“Maybe,” Kun shrugged. “Or maybe you didn’t do anything. What were you two talking about? When he said that.”

“Your skeletal enhancements,” you admitted.

“I see.”

“Do you know how much longer your mission here will be?” You asked. “When can you get your next adjustment? Dejun said it happens at UHN Main, so it’ll be when you drop me off after this, right?”

“No, I don’t know how much longer this mission will take,” he replied. “It depends on what you and ZEN find on that computer tomorrow. And yes, it’ll be at UHN Main.”

“Then ZEN and I will just have to be quick.”

“Don’t rush for my sake,” he warned, an edge to his voice. “We need to make sure we get everything from here. I can wait.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Fine. But I’m bringing two med-pods tomorrow, and you’re taking both of them, no complaints, no skipping. Understood?”

The corner of his lip twitched as he nodded. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Kun.”

And with that, you left his tent. Back in your own, you gave the med-pod back to Dejun, filling him in on Kun’s condition.

“It’s getting worse,” you told the doctor, keeping your voice hushed. “The medication wears off faster and isn’t as effective. I think he needs two.”

“Damn it…” He sighed, zipping the pack up. “Yeah, start taking two tomorrow. Stupid son of a bitch. I told him not to skip his last tune-up.”

“Do you have any idea how much longer he can go without one before… it gets worse?”

“No.” Dejun informed you shortly, running a hand through his hair. “No clue. This is the longest he’s missed one before.”

“Oh no…”

“Yeah. Like I said, stupid son of a bitch.”

“This mission… He really believes it’s that important? More than him? Than his health?”

“Yes,” he answered immediately. “The program he was in… Let’s say he didn’t just get some skeletal enhancements and cool armor. You should ask him about it.”

You were quiet, and Dejun plopped himself back down onto his cot. You silently put yourself to bed, staring up at the ceiling of the tent listlessly as Dejun put out the lamp, plunging you into the darkness of night.

Resting your cheek in the palm of your injured hand, you tapped the edge of the keyboard with your fingernail anxiously as you waited. ZEN had to break off another fragment with his new Outspacer translation update, then join those two fragments together once plugged into the computer. And of course, the fragment(s) in the computer were asynchronous with the one in the crew’s HUDs and the Professor’s tablet, so there was no way for you to get an update from the ZEN that could actually vocalize anything. The computer had no microphone or speakers that you could see, only the keyboard, mouse, and monitor in front of you. You couldn’t even see the end of where the wires led, the actual computer itself. ZEN was plugged into a docking station at the base of the monitor.

The entire crew was in the robotics lab. Some milling around behind where you were sat at the computer, a couple others looking at the defunct robots in the side room.

Yangyang walked up behind you, one of the schematics books in his hands again.

“I didn’t know you were ambidextrous,” he commented conversationally, his eyes on the pages.

“What?” You looked up at him questioningly.

“Your hand,” he gestured to the bandaged one, “You caught the knife with that one, but you’re using the computer with the other. I don’t think my first instinct would be to catch a flying knife with my non-dominant hand. Well, it wouldn’t be to catch it all, but still.”

You looked down at your hand that was hovering over the mouse. “Oh. I don’t know, I guess.”

“What do you make of this?” He pointed to a drawing.

“It… looks like a hand. A prosthetic?”

“There’s no indication of anything mechanical, why’d you jump to prosthetic?”

“You found it in a robotics lab. I didn’t think they’d be doing anatomy practice for fun.”

“Robot-people…” Ten muttered under his breath.

A small window popped up in the bottom right of the right then, a chat box.

ZEN: I’m ready.

Y/N: How are we dividing this?

ZEN: I can review data without interrupting you.

Y/N: I’ll start in the first folder, you start at the last, we’ll work our way towards the middle?

ZEN: I’ll let you know if I find anything of interest.

Clicking into the first folder, ‘Robotics,’ you skimmed through the subfolder options. They were mainly named with seemingly incomprehensible codes, combinations of glyphs and numbers that made no sense. You randomly clicked into the first one anyway, and were presented with more subfolders. These were simply labeled in trial phases and sub-phases: Phase 0.1, 0.1.2, 1.0, 1.3, 1.5, 2.0.3. You again clicked on the very first one, 0.1, and were greeted with nothing. It was empty, not a single file to actually review. You clicked back out and selected the next one, 0.1.2. Empty again. Narrowing your eyes at the display, you clicked on 1.0, hoping that they had just maybe moved all of those into the succeeding phase. Nothing.

Letting out a huff, you clicked back into the chat window.

Y/N: ZEN, do any of the folders I’m looking in actually have anything?

ZEN: No.

Y/N: In the entire Robotics folder?

ZEN: No data.

You groaned, going back out to the main menu.

“What?” Kun questioned as you clicked into ‘Synthetic Biology.’

“That folder was purged. It’s just empty subfolders,” you informed them with a sigh.

“What were the subfolders?” Yangyang asked with interest.

“The main branches were just random glyphs? And then each main folder had even more subfolders with phases.”

“Must have been project names. Maybe serial numbers?” The roboticist suggested. “Can you go back?”

You did as he asked. “Now what?”

“Just read the first one for me? The individual glyphs, not as a sentence.”

“Blue, red, add, inside-of, twelve hundred. As in the time, not one-thousand and two hundred.”

“Noon?”

“Well, yeah,” you nodded. “But I figure everyone used twenty-four-hour time around here, right?”

“What are you thinking, kid?” Kunhang asked knowingly.

“Assuming it’s meant to be read as noon, translated back out and using only the first letters… B-R-A-I-N. Brain.”

The Professor lit up at this. “A code within a code! What’s the next one?”

You read it off, “Cube, add, sun, inside-of, noon, green. Casing?”

“Positronic brain casing. Like the sketch!” Yangyang practically ran to get the other sketchbook. “That must have had the actually specs and computer modeling of it. These sketches are just conceptual.”

“It’s a robotics lab, it’s not a surprise that they would’ve had positronic brains here,” Dejun pointed out frankly.

“Keep going, Y/N, he hates fun,” Yangyang urged you on, the Professor right on your other side with his tablet.

You read out all of the glyphs, every so often needing input from the others to find a more colloquial synonym in standard human that would actually make a real word. By the time that you were done with all of the folders, ZEN had popped up in your chat window again.

ZEN: I believe I may have found something of interest.

Y/N: Can you display it?

ZEN: Certainly.

And seemingly on its own, the computer went into the Facility folder, then into one of the subfolders. Before you could even begin to work through the nonsense Outspacer code, ZEN had already translated it for you.

ZEN: Employee files, by department. The personnel files themselves are no longer in here, but the comms directory survived.

“ZEN found something,” you announced to the others. “Employee directory. He says the actual personnel files are gone, but the comms directory is here.”

“So we’ve got a partial list of who was here,” Kun surmised. “Whoever had their own extension, at least.”

ZEN brought it up for you, and you skimmed through the names quickly, looking only for one. When you got to the end, however, despite not having seen your own name there, you still couldn’t let out the breath you were holding. This was only a partial list, after all. You could’ve just as easily worked here and not had an extension on the comms directory.

“Are those… pager numbers?” Dejun asked, leaning in over your shoulder to squint at the screen suspiciously. “On the second page. The first page are all three-digit comms extensions, presumably department heads and general-use areas, but this looks like a list of individual pager numbers.”

“They don’t look different than any old phone numbers, why would they be pager numbers?” Kun asked.

“Well, cell phones are entirely outdated with interstellar travel, but in the medical field, we still use pagers for quick communication within facilities. It doesn’t get clogged up with everything that’s in a HUD, they’re a cheap and efficient way to get short bursts of information from person-to-person. Medical facilities will usually set up their own short-range tower that’s only used by pagers issued by that facility to providers,” he explained. “The only thing on this planet is this facility, pagers solve intra-facility communication issues, and prevent anything from being sent out. Nowadays, ships don’t have receivers to pick up this kind of signal, if they even got close enough. They’d only be able to send messages from pager-to-pager here.”

“Everyone can talk to each other, but can’t send information to outsiders,” the captain paraphrased.

“Hold on a second,” Kunhang announced before abruptly leaving the room.

Everyone watched the door after him in confusion, occasionally looking around to see if anybody else was going to do something. You assumed the others who still had their helmets on could see what he was doing in their HUDs, as a couple let out noises of disgust, then a few moments later Kunhang burst through the door. He was triumphantly holding up a small grey rectangle, no bigger than the palm of his hand.

“Here!” He thrust it out towards Dejun. “Is this a pager?”

“I could’ve told you that without you pulling it off a dead body…” The doctor sighed, removing his own helmet before taking the small device into his hands anyway. As he turned it over, you saw several dark splotches on it. “Yes, this is a pager. They probably gave one to everyone working here.”

Your eyes quickly went back to the screen, to reread the list more closely this time. Nothing, again.

You went back to the chat window.

Y/N: Have you found anything else? We got stuck back in Robotics.

ZEN: No data in Synthetic Biology, Administrative, and Support. Facility still has files in it.

Y/N: What else is in there besides the directory?

ZEN: Maintenance history, blueprints of the entire facility, emergency protocols.

Y/N: What sorts of emergencies?

ZEN: Fire, severe surface weather, emergent stratospheric weather, alien invasion, human invasion. I can’t translate the final one.

Y/N: Pull it up.

With the first page of the mystery emergency protocol on the screen, you immediately realized that this gibberish must be in the code again, and went back to read the title again.

“Sun, cube, red, under, blue, blue, inside-of, noon, green. Scrubbing?” You squinted at the screen. “There’s no way this is a cleaning manual…”

Y/N: Scrubbing? Does that make sense with the rest of the document?

ZEN: It does not contain instructions for cleaning.

Y/N: What is in it?

ZEN: I do not believe I was equipped with many of these glyphs, and my algorithm is having trouble extrapolating reasonable suggestions for them without enough contextual words.

Y/N: You really just have a bunch of grammar and mostly food vocabulary, not a full dictionary. It’s okay, I’ll skim.

“You’re typing a lot,” Yangyang observed. “Is scrubbing good? Bad? What’s happening?”

“ZEN found the emergency protocols. There’s the usual stuff, though the addition of a ‘human invasion’ protocol at this human research facility is rather interesting,” you informed the others, scrolling to the next page of the document. “There’s one that he couldn’t translate the name of, though. He doesn’t have enough vocabulary to make any sense of the inside, either.”

“Scrubbing,” Kunhang determined. “And you said it’s not for cleaning? Maybe it’s like a hazmat thing?”

“No…” You shook your head, looking over just the headers. “This is definitely about… computers? Wait, and fire….?”

“Data,” Kun interrupted. “It’s about purging all classified data from a facility, digital and physical. That’s what scrubbing is.”

You all looked at each other knowingly. It was Kun who said what everyone was thinking, however.

“The Skippers interrupted the facility before they could finish scrubbing. The question is why they started the scrub in the first place.”

“It says here only two people can order a… scrub.” You read off the protocol stiltedly. “The… Sorry, give me a second.”

“Are you okay?” Kun had made his way to the front of the group, next to the chair you were in.

You pushed the heel of your palm against the space between your brows, squeezing your eyes shut. “Yeah, fine. It keeps switching back and forth between normal Outspacer and that code, it’s giving me a headache to read.”

“They probably used the code whenever there wasn’t a good Outspacer approximate for the word they wanted to use,” the Professor suggested, his voice rising with excitement. “It’s like… a pidgin of Outspacer and standard human with sneaky intelligence code thrown in. God, this is so fascinating!”

“Can ZEN or the Professor do the code?” Kun grabbed your shoulder, gently turning you away from the computer.

“I’d love to take a crack at it!” The Professor rubbed his hands together excitedly.

You let Kun usher you to your feet, and the Professor hurriedly took your seat. Dejun met you and Kun at the back of the group, a frown on his features.

“How’s the pain? Same kind as before?” The doctor asked.

“Yeah, same pressure,” you confirmed, still holding your head. “Not as bad, though.”

“I keep telling you and everyone else that you need to let your brain rest. And what do you do? Teach an AI a dead alien language, decode ciphers in said dead alien language…”

“Right. Sorry…”

“You can’t give her anything?” Kun questioned. “At least for the headache? She’ll rest tomorrow.”

“I’m fine,” you insisted. “It’s already going away. Save your supplies.”

“Y/N—”

“I don’t really have anything for minor bumps on me,” Dejun interrupted before Kun could escalate your bickering. “That’s back on the Vision. Just took the essentials down.”

“Admiral!” The Professor yelled out enthusiastically. “Only the Admiral, and the… Research Director can order a scrub.”

“Is that all it says? Just Admiral? Not Rear Admiral, or Vice Admiral, or Fleet Admiral?” Kun questioned.

“The Admiral, or an Admiral?” You added.

The Professor looked back at the screen as if double-checking his work. “Definitely the Admiral. I’m assuming that would be whichever one was overseeing this facility? Doesn’t give a name. And it’s just Admiral. But there’s two kinds of scrubs, actually. A partial and a full scrub.”

“What’s the point of a partial scrub?” Ten asked. “Why would you destroy only some confidential stuff, but not all of it? Isn’t the point to leave nothing behind?”

“Don’t know, but the partial scrub protocol only has them spare one thing.”

“Must be pretty damn important,” Kunhang commented. “What is it? A port-drive or something?”

“I doubt many of the personnel here had neural ports,” Dejun said. “They were scientists. I’ve only seen a couple on bodies since we’ve been here, and they were clearly soldiers.”

“Well? Does it say?” Yangyang prompted the Professor.

“Yeah, but it’s about as helpful as ‘Admiral’ was,” he sighed. “‘Proof of concept.’ A partial scrub preserves the proof of concept, with some of its own security protocols in place.”

“Proof of what concept? We don’t even know what they were trying to do here,” Dejun scoffed, rubbing a hand over his face.

Yangyang seemed interested again, though. “The proof of concept has its own security protocols? Is there any indicator if they’re internal or external? Like if it’s locked up somewhere, or if it might be… programmed into the proof itself?”

“No, it doesn’t say,” the Professor answered.

“What are you thinking, Liu?” Kun prompted the younger man.

“If it’s some kind of… robot, then they could program whatever security protocols they needed into it to make it secure for this partial scrub, without completely destroying all their years of work. But if it was… biological, it would probably need some kind of external security to not only prevent the wrong people from finding it, but also stop it from uh, escaping…”

“And what if it was a person-robot?” Ten replied.

The roboticist shook his head. “They just say proof of concept. That’s usually not anywhere close to the final product. I can’t imagine they actually made a person-robot, whatever that entails. After all, the ag bubble was still set for humans when we got here. And proofs of concept aren’t meant to be a fleshed-out prototype of the final product, either. They’re just supposed to test one or two functions of it and be thrown away after.”

“But this one was worth risking a security breach over,” Kun pinched the bridge of his nose. “Professor, in the full scrub protocol, does it say when the proof would be destroyed? First? Last?”

“Uhm…” He went back to the screen, scrolling and squinting at it for a moment before answering. “First.”

That garnered a few groans from the soldiers around you, but you saw the Professor suddenly perk up as he continued through the document.

“What is it?” You asked. “Something else?”

“That’s not the only difference between a partial and full scrub. The order’s different. I guess since a full scrub is a little more scorched-Earth and a partial scrub has to leave at least some kind of either digital or physical infrastructure for the proof… I think we can figure out if they were doing a partial or full scrub before the Skippers got here.”

“What’s the difference?”

“There’s a lot of things that happen simultaneously, Robotics destroying digital data while SynthBio destroys physical specimens…” The Professor hummed as he continued skimming. “But in a full scrub, the entire facility would be burned at once. In a partial, they only have directions to burn certain areas: the two labs, the Research Director’s office, places like that.”

“So there’s no individual fires in the full scrub?” Kun clarified. “It would all go up at once?”

“Yeah, just one big boom at the end.”

You all looked at each other knowingly, then at Kun expectantly.

“So they were doing a partial scrub,” he declared. “Which means we need to find that proof of concept.”

“We don’t know what it could even be, what it looks like, if it’s physical or digital,” Ten pointed out.

“It’s the best lead we’ve got. Has anybody seen anything out of the ordinary?”

“Uh… Everything?” Kunhang said pointedly.

“Very helpful, Wong, thank you,” the captain retorted. “Come on, guys, anything?”

“Was there anything in that safe room with Y/N?” Yangyang offered. “When you found her? Only survivor… might’ve taken the proof into the safe room with her.”

Kun immediately shot it down, “No.”

“Wong?” Ten focused on the other Marine. “You might’ve had a better… perspective than the captain. You see anything in there?”

“I don’t remember seeing anything, no,” he shook his head. “But it can’t hurt looking a second time. We’re going to have to search the entire place anyway, right, Captain?”

“Yeah, top to bottom,” Kun confirmed shortly. “Again.”

“Yippee…” Ten grumbled.

“But I want that entire document translated first, and for us to finish going through all of the files,” he added sternly. “We need to know everything we can about what we’ll even be looking for before we searching.”

“ZEN and I will get right on it,” the Professor nodded.

“And the rest of us are just going to… watch him read?” Kunhang asked.

Kun took his helmet off and set it down on a nearby counter. “Afternoon off. Congrats, don’t kill yourselves.”

The others started celebrating, Kunhang, Ten, and Yangyang already launching into discussions of what they’d do with the free time as they headed towards the exit. They stopped at the door as they seemed to notice that you, Kun, and Dejun hadn’t moved.

“Hey, you guys coming?” Kunhang called out. “I don’t think the Professor needs you three watching over his shoulder.”

“I figured I’d stay, in case he needed any help,” you admitted.

“No,” Kun shook his head. “You’re going to rest. Doctor’s orders, remember?”

“I won’t be the one translating, just in case he hits a snag with a glyph or something,” you argued.

“He’s got ZEN. Two of him, technically. If he really needs you, he’ll let those at the ag bubble know and you can come back.”

You let up with a huff. “Fine. Are you coming then, Kun? You haven’t reached for your helmet.”

“I will.”

“So you get to stay but I don’t?”

“Yes. Because Xiao hasn’t said I need to rest my injured brain.”

“But you—” You bit your tongue before you could bring up his enhancements. He raised his eyebrows almost in a challenge, and you simply narrowed your eyes at him. “I will come looking for you if you’re not back at the ag bubble in an hour.”

“I get a whole hour? How gracious.”

As you went to join the other guys by the door, you saw that Dejun was still in the same place. “Dejun, come on, not you too?”

“I’ll be there in less than an hour, swear it. Just need to talk to the captain about something,” your tentmate reassured you. “I’ll be right behind you.”

“Stop worrying about them, Y/N,” Yangyang ushered you towards the door. “I told you, Xiao hates fun, and the captain’s a workaholic.”

“The river’s fine for swimming, right?” Kunhang questioned, pulling the door open.

“We’ve been drinking from it, I would hope so,” Ten snorted, following after him.

“No, I mean, there’s nothing living it, right?”

“If there was, don’t you think we would’ve had a smoked salmon dinner at this point?” Ten and Wong’s voices faded away as the door closed behind the four of them, leaving just the Professor, the two ZEN fragments, Xiao, and the captain.

“What do you need, Xiao?” The captain questioned, leaning against a countertop.

The Professor was utterly locked into his task at the moment, and Captain Qian was used to seeing the civvie in such a state. Practically impossible to disturb, even by his own normal bodily needs—sleep, food, hygiene, it would all go to the wayside if he was allowed. So really, it felt like it was just him and Xiao. And ZEN, of course, but the AI’s constant presence was an unspoken fact of their lives at this point, so ingrained that he accepted that there was pretty much no privacy from ZEN at the end of the day, only from the other humans aboard the mission. Which was interesting as to why Xiao had picked this moment to get such privacy.

“Your deal, with Y/N,” Xiao began frankly.

“What about it? I’m getting the injections, figured you’d be thrilled,” the captain replied with a tilted head.

“I’m trying to figure out what you actually get out of it, Captain,” the lieutenant wagged a finger at him. “Because Y/N gets to give you your injections, which was a concern of hers, not yours; she gets to leave the ag bubble; and you didn’t even make her promise not to catch knives with her bare hands anymore.”

“She does stuff like that without thinking, it would’ve been pointless to make her promise not to do it anymore.”

“Which makes her a liability, Captain.”

“She’s an asset,” Captain Qian retorted.

“Because she can read Outspacer? She’s already taught ZEN and the Professor,” Xiao gestured to the man still at the computer pointedly.

“They’re not fluent.”

“Barely. And anything they don’t know, they can bring back to her. Like you just suggested.”

After the Professor, Xiao was the team member that the captain had known for the longest, he could tell that the doctor was slowly circling his actual argument. “What is your point, Xiao?”

“Is she really more of an asset than a liability?”

“I can’t afford to have one of you on babysitting duty every day.”

“We can switch out. Morning and afternoon shifts.”

The captain arched an eyebrow curiously as he studied the other man. “I figured you would’ve been one of the last people to be doing this. I thought you liked Y/N.”

“I do, which is why I don’t want her to do something worse than cut her palm,” Xiao sighed.

“I don’t either, but she told me quite plainly that she won’t stop.”

Xiao looked like he was about to pull his hair out. “Captain, a civilian tells you in no uncertain terms that they will endanger themselves and your mission, and you strike a deal to continue letting them?”

“She’s not… It was a judgment call, Xiao,” he declared sharply.

“And I’m still thinking about what you get out of the deal…” The doctor was pacing now, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Whenever she gets hurt, she has to go to you?”

Captain Qian shifted in place, stretching out his neck and crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m the Captain, you’re all my responsibility—”

“Injured people are my responsibility. What do you get out of patching up a civvie every time she hurts herself?” Xiao scoffed.

“I need to know how often she’s—”

“You like her,” Xiao breathed out in realization, coming to a stop.

“Excuse me?”

“That’s the only way for that stupid deal to make sense. You actually like her as a person instead of her just being some civvie that’s in the way of the mission. So she can leave the ag bubble, but you still want one of us with her for protection. And when she does stupid things—which you’re smiling about right now, you like that about her—” Xiao pointed to the faint smile on the captain’s face victoriously, “—you want to personally make sure she’s okay after.”

The captain had regained control of his features, staring at his teammate neutrally. “Are you done?”

“No denial?”

“I’m not going to engage with your baseless speculation,” Captain Qian replied, his voice sounding unnaturally tight. “So if that’s all, then you can go.”

“Didn’t really sound like a no to me.” The doctor was grinning now.

“That would imply that your theory was something worth denying. Which I’ve already established, it isn’t.”

“Oh my god, you’re an awful liar, Captain,” Xiao peered at him, delight on his own features. “At least about this, because I know you’re way better on missions.”

“Since you’ve forced my hand…” he sighed, Xiao leaning forward to listen eagerly. “You’re dismissed. Formally. Officially. Goodbye.”

Xiao chuckled as he hoisted his own helmet back up and onto his head, meandering towards the exit. “Alright, alright. See you in a few, Captain.”

And that just left him, the ZENs, and the Professor. The captain rubbed his face with exasperation, turning his focus back towards the computer screen. The utter silence that he had been hoping for was short-lived, however.

“So… Y/N, huh?” The Professor asked, and despite the fact that his back was still to him, Captain Qian could hear the grin in his voice.

“Aren’t you supposed to be translating?” He snapped.

“I can multi-task.”

“And be slower than if you didn’t. So focus.”

You were sat by the riverside, dangling your feet into the cool water as Ten, Kunhang, and Yangyang all swam around. Dejun had come back some time ago, alone, and was sitting next to you as he continued reading On the Ethics of Robotics. You were straining your ears as you listened for the sound of the door of the ag bubble to open, occasionally looking over your shoulder at it.

“He’ll be here, Y/N,” Dejun stated after the fourth time you had glanced at the door. He hadn’t looked up from the text, but apparently could read your mind.

“It’s been fifty-two minutes,” you replied derisively. “According to Yangyang, he’s a workaholic, and according to you, he’s a stubborn, bad patient. Excuse me for doubting that he’ll be eagerly participating in taking an afternoon off. Especially when some of his crew is still working.”

“That’s all true. But you forgot one crucial part.”

“And what is that?”

Dejun flipped a page. “He told you he would.”

“He said he’d be here, at some point in time. I’m the one who put the hour-limit on him, which he didn’t exactly agree to.”

“And yet, he didn’t tell you no, either.” Your companion said, the corner of his mouth twitching, as if he found something amusing. You doubted there was anything in that treatise that was exceptionally humorous. “He’ll be here, Y/N.”

“Can I ask what you needed to talk to him about?”

“You can ask. But that’s a different question than if I’ll answer.”

“I just… wanted to know if it’s about—” You looked at the other three, thoroughly engrossed with trying to splash and dunk each other in ways that were definitely unfair to poor Yangyang, who lacked anywhere near the same combat experience that Ten and Kunhang had. You leaned over to whisper to Dejun, “—the enhancements. If he’s okay.”

Dejun let out a chuckle, as if any of this were funny. “No, it wasn’t about that. He’s quite alright.”

You were able to relax a little with this confirmation. “Okay. Thank you.”

“How’s your hand, by the way?”

“Oh, it’s fine. I don’t even think about it,” you said, flexing your injured palm. “Doesn’t hurt.”

“Good. You should ask Captain Qian to change your bandage tonight.”

You looked at the doctor next to you with confusion. “Why…? But you’re… You were just ranting about how you’re the doctor here, not him.”

“Like you said, it’s just a cut. Don’t need an MD to change a bandage. Captain’s perfectly capable for something like that.”

“I suppose. But what’s with the change of heart of all of a sudden?”

“I have a feeling he’ll want to check on you personally, even if I were to change your bandage now. No point in changing it just for him to reapply a fresh one in a couple more hours anyway.”

It was then that you heard the front door to the ag bubble open, and you snapped your head around to look. You immediately recognized Kun by his gait, before he even took his helmet off.

“Fifty-four minutes…” You muttered to yourself.

“Told you,” Dejun said in a sing-song voice.

You continued watching as Kun disappeared into his tent, zipping it shut behind him. After a couple minutes, he reemerged, out of his armor and in his usual casual clothes. Instead of joining you and the others by the riverside, you frowned as you watched him take off on the trails between the crops, in the opposite direction from you all.

With a frown, you scrambled to your feet, giving the doctor a distracted goodbye as you went off after Kun. It didn’t take you very long to catch up to him as you cut through the grass as you made a beeline towards him.

“Hey,” you called out when you got close enough to him.

“Hey,” he replied over his shoulder, not slowing down or stopping for you.

“What are you doing?”

“Going on a walk.”

“Can I— Can I walk with you?”

He abruptly stopped and pivoted on his heel, turning to you curiously. You skidded to a stop in front of him.

“Why do you want to?” He questioned.

“So you don’t have to answer that question, but I do?”

“Just curious.” He shrugged, then jerked his head in invitation before he started walking again. “I won’t make you answer. It would be a bit hypocritical of me.”

“So how’s it going? The translation?” You easily kept up with his much more meandering pace now.

“The Professor seemed to be enjoying himself.”

“Anything useful? About what the proof of concept is? Or otherwise?”

“Not that he said. But he’s not very talkative when he gets like that.”

“Oh, okay.”

After a few moments of silence, Kun spoke again, “I’m sorry about this morning. It was… I had no good reason to not answer your perfectly reasonable question. I was just caught off-guard. I shouldn’t have been so abrasive about it.”

“Well, thank you. For apologizing.”

“The truth is, I don’t know why I wanted to walk with you. It wasn’t any sort of suspicion, I just saw you going and wanted to go with you. Nothing more.”

“Oh.” You looked down at your feet, once again struggling to not let it immediately go to your head. “I can understand that. When I saw you start walking, I wanted to go too.”

He smiled in just the slightest. “And here we are.”

“Would you mind telling me more about Dura-Jil?” You asked hesitantly.

“Why are you so curious about Dura-Jil?”

“I suppose… I’m curious about you. And where you came from,” you admitted quietly. “And you talk about it so fondly, it’s nice to see you not stressing about what’s going on right now.”

“You know, this really isn’t fair,” he shook his head with a chuckle. “You can ask me all sorts of stuff, but you never have to tell me any embarrassing childhood stories.”

“I didn’t ask specifically for embarrassing ones!” You protested. “And I would tell you if I could remember!”

“That’s okay, I’ll supply the nostalgia for now.” Kun looked up ahead, eyes seemingly focused on one area in particular. “We had to get all of our food imported from Earth. We had no farms, no ag bubbles, nothing. That was the first thing smuggled in, really. Food. Specialty stuff, higher-quality stuff than what was usually imported. I still remember the first time I had a strawberry.”

It was then that you saw what he was looking at, a strawberry field that was growing closer and closer.

“I… don’t remember ever having a strawberry,” you stated. “How old were you? The first time you had a strawberry?”

“The actual fruit, nine or ten. I’m pretty sure we’d gotten our hands on strawberry jam before that, though.” He stopped at the edge of the field, the plants nearby all dotted with bright red fruit. “My mom tried growing her own plant from some of the seeds, but as soon as she had to move the seedling outdoors, the climate froze it dead.”

Kun deftly plucked a handful of strawberries off the plant, and offered the gleaming rubies out towards you. You accepted one, then he took one into his other hand by the leaves, bringing it up to his mouth. You followed his lead, taking a bite. The bright, tart, sweetness was a pleasant surprise, and you decided that you quite liked strawberries, too.

“Ooh, that’s good,” Kun commented, dropping the uneaten leaves back onto the soil. “My dad built my mom a greenhouse, a small one, in our backyard. Took a little figuring out, but she could finally garden.”

“That’s really sweet of him,” you said, taking another strawberry as it was offered to you.

“Yeah, whenever I think about what love is, I think about that.”

You bit into the strawberry, looking at him curiously as he took another handful of strawberries off the plant. “How often are you contemplating what love is?”

He once again held his hand out for you to pick from first, then grabbed one of his own. “Comes and goes. Not often, as of late.”

“Been focused on the mission?”

“Trying.”

At that cryptic answer, you decided to try another question, “Do your parents still live on Dura-Jil?”

Kun once again dropped his discarded leaves into the soil, this time nudging some dirt over them with the toe of his boot. “They’re dead.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You bit your lip, wanting to kick yourself.

“It’s okay, you didn’t know.”

“For that, yes. But I’m also just… sorry. For your loss.”

“Even if you don’t get your memories back, I’ll make sure we do everything we can to get you back to… whoever’s missing you. Your family, your friends,” he said strongly, clasping his hands behind his back.

You looked up ahead, at the far end of the strawberry patch. “What if… What if it turns out that I don’t have anyone? That nobody’s waiting for me?”

“There will be somebody,” Kun assured you. “People like you don’t disappear unnoticed.”

“People like me?” You echoed curiously.

He started down the trail again, and you followed. “I didn’t see your name, on the directory.”

“So you were looking too,” you sighed, accepting the change in topic. It was something that had been nagging at you as well.

“You almost sound disappointed.”

“I just want answers. Good or bad,” you groaned. “All we know is that I didn’t have a personal comms extension, and didn’t have a pager.”

“Xiao said they would’ve given every employee a pager,” he reminded you gently.

“All we have is a lack of evidence of me being an employee. That doesn’t equal proof that I was… something else.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think we’re ever going to find proof of anything.”

“That’s my fear as well.”

“With no intent to stress your brain… Nothing feels any more familiar than the first day?”

“No. I mean, there’s the stuff I remember from, you know, the past few days. But nothing feels even vaguely familiar. No déjà vu, nothing.” You inhaled deeply. “I either know something or I don’t. There’s no grey area.”

“That must be terrifying.”

“I was shook up that first day, yeah. But right now I’m less concerned with the past and more with the future. You know, what I’m going to do from here.”

“I told you, we’ll help you.”

“I know, you said the UHN has programs—”

“No, we’ll help you, Y/N. We’re not going to just to abandon you as soon as we get back to Earth. Not until we know you’re good.”

“Thanks, Kun.” You offered him a genuine smile. “I… I guess I’m just worried about what to do. Who I want to be. I don’t really know if you guys can help much with that. I think that part’s on me.”

“Do you think you know everything about me and the kind of person I am?”

“Uhm, no?”

“You’ve only known yourself for as long as you’ve known me. You can’t expect to know exactly who you are yet. Or anytime soon.”

“Thank you.” You watched as Kun rolled out one of his shoulders uncomfortably, clearly trying to readjust something in his back. You furrowed your brows with concern; it seemed as though the injection from last night was starting to wear off. “How’s the pain?”

“Manageable,” he replied briskly, face relaxing again. But you knew it was practiced, rehearsed—a cover.

“Kun.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I wish you’d be kinder to yourself,” you sighed. “Honestly, this tough guy thing you think you have to do, it’s just… pathetic.”

He slowed your walk to a stop, eyes widened minutely as he blinked at you. “You really think I’m pathetic?”

“A soldier who won’t ask for help when they need it isn’t brave, they’re reckless and stupid,” you said frankly. “And yes, I think this entire charade you do when you’re hurting is pathetic. Pain has never made anyone stronger, healing it does. I don’t know if you think it’ll make you look weak to your crew, or that you don’t deserve to feel better, or if it’s something else—but you don’t have to do all this around me.”

There was a stretch of silence as he took a steady inhale, and you met his gaze unwaveringly. Kun looked down at the ground, then back up at you. There was a slight wince on his face, and you were unsure if it was from pain, shame, or perhaps both. “Do you mind if we sat? My back…”

“Of course, Kun.” You nodded, letting him lead the way over to a grassy patch under a tree in a nearby orchard.

Kun let out a soft but noticeable, appreciative groan as he sat down. Looking up above you two, you spotted oranges among the green foliage along the branches.

“Do you know why there’s no clouds?” He questioned. “In the ag bubble? It’s a pocket dimension; I figure between the plants and the river, the water cycle should still be working.”

“Well there’s no Sun, so that’s a big piece of the water cycle missing,” you pointed out humorously. “Ag bubbles carefully regulate the atmosphere, including the water vapor. Since the fields self-water depending on the needs on the individual crops, it’d be a little inconvenient for it to also rain.”

“And it’s a perfect, mild spring day every day.”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “It is.”

“I know the guys are glad to stretch their legs without getting shot at. The Vision is a bit cramped, and we’re only off it for missions.”

“Sounds like an eventful deployment so far.”

“Very.”

You looked over at Kun leaning back against the trunk, his eyes closed for a moment. A soft breeze kicked up a few strands of his dark brown hair. You didn’t think you’d even seen him so relaxed, and you found yourself strangely happy that he felt like he could rest like this around you, even if it was partially coerced.

“Why did you join the UHN?” You asked, unable to contain your curiosity about him as usual.

“Hm?” He made a questioning noise, raising his eyebrows without opening his eyes.

“Why did you leave Dura-Jil and join the UHN?”

“Wanted to help Earth and humanity. Stars in my eyes, you know?”

You tilted your head curiously. “People from the colonies aren’t exceptionally fond of Earth. Especially those who had never even been there, and especially ones from Dura-Jil. Why would you want to fight for a planet you had never seen?”

He chuckled, and you got the distinct feeling that you weren’t in on the joke. “I—” He cut himself off, eyes opening as he sat up straight, gaze landing sharply on a spot in the distance as he seemed to be listening for something you couldn’t hear. “Okay. Yeah, got it, Professor. We’ll see you in a few.”

“Is everything okay?” You questioned, watching as Kun went to stand.

“The Professor and ZEN have hit a snag in the translation. It’s too much to bring back on the tablet, so come on, we’re heading back out.”

You stood as well, but didn’t follow him as he turned to go. He stopped and turned back to look at you, but whatever question he was about to ask you got cut short as he twisted in such a way that made him wince.

“You should rest, Kun.” You crossed your arms. “One of the others can go with me.”

He took a deep breath, then nodded. “See if Xiao can go. The others were swimming, it’ll take them longer to get back into their armor.”

“Got it. You go rest. I’ll bring you mess along with the med-pods tonight.”

“I can’t be lazing in my tent all day and have food delivered to me,” he snorted. “The crew will think I’m on my deathbed.”

“You could tell them what’s going on. Would that be the heat death of the Universe?”

“No, but—”

“If one of your crew was injured, would you want them to be doing what you’re doing right now? Leaving you in the dark? Refusing rest and treatment?” You asked steadily. “Or would you call them an idiot and send them to their tent?”

“You’ve called me pathetic and an idiot in less than ten minutes, you know?”

“I’ll call you a pathetic idiot if that’ll convince you to go lay down.”

Kun’s eyes crinkled as he laughed, hard. When he’d caught his breath, he held his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright, I get it. I’ll go rest for a bit.”

The two of you finally started walking back towards the camp, soon coming upon the others still hanging out by the water. Kun lifted a hand in farewell to you and casual greeting to his crew as he kept walking, and you watched him until he eventually disappeared into his tent.

“Y/N!” Kunhang called from the water.

“Yeah?” You replied, not bothering to sit or get comfortable.

“What was so funny?” He paddled closer to the edge you were standing at. “We’ve never heard the captain laugh like that.”

“Oh, uh, I called him a pathetic idiot,” you said with a shrug.

Everyone’s heads whipped around to look at you. Ten then turned a mischievous grin on Yangyang. “You’ve got to try that.”

“My parents paid good money for braces for me as a kid, I’m not going to disrespect their investment,” Yangyang retorted.

As the three in the water began bickering and teasing and taunting each other again, you turned your focus down to the doctor still on the shore. “Professor and ZEN need some help. You mind going with me, Dejun?”

“Sure.” Dejun snapped his book shut. “Give me a second to put my armor back on. Then you can tell me how you got away with insulting the captain to his face.”

That night, everyone was back at camp. The Professor was still messing around with a few series of glyphs on his tablet that he wanted to try on his own before letting you reveal the translation to him. The document on scrubbing was fully translated, and the ZEN fragment in the facility computer would continue going through the remaining files through the night. The scrubbing procedures didn’t really have any extra clues about the proof of concept that you could decipher, but it was worth a shot.

As the Professor tried out the glyphs, Yangyang and Dejun seemed to be discussing the book that the doctor had been borrowing from the younger man, as Dejun held it in his hand and they had a rather impassioned conversation in one corner of camp. You, Ten, and Kunhang were cooking dinner. And by that, you mean Ten and Kunhang were cooking dinner and you were watching them, as they had officially banned you from being near sharp objects while your hand healed. And you noticed that Ten was the one cutting ingredients tonight, not Kunhang.

“So why is there no meat here?” Kunhang asked you. “Ag bubbles can keep livestock too. Why not here?”

“I… don’t know,” you confessed. “I mean, technically ag bubbles don’t need to have livestock, since the crops can be modified to meet all nutritional requirements without the need for meat. Preference?”

“You think the Research Director was a vegan or something?”

Ten snorted incredulously as soon as the words were out of his teammate’s mouth. “Anybody who can do… whatever the hell what happening here also being a vegan would be painfully ironic.”

You felt a pit grow in your stomach as you remembered the conversation you’d overheard just yesterday morning. Impulsively, you looked down at your own hands, as if expecting to see them literally covered in blood, any sort of evidence of the sins they think you might have committed. You must have committed.

“How’s your hand?” Ten asked, clearly having seen the motion.

“It’s fine,” you brushed it off, putting both your appendages down and looking back up at the two Marines. “Do you guys think I worked here?”

Kunhang at least seemed a bit taken aback by the question, looking at Ten awkwardly for some kind of cue, as his buddy raised an eyebrow at you curiously.

“Do you think you worked here?”

“I-I don’t know. Nothing’s familiar.”

“We don’t have any proof you did anything, Y/N,” Ten said plainly. “All we know is that you were here when we got here. You’re not wearing a lab coat, you don’t have a neural port, you apparently didn’t have a pager.”

Kunhang picked up from Ten’s implicit conclusion, “You’ve been pretty cool since we found you. I think if you did work here, you’d be a lot more stuck up. Never met a UHN scientist without a bit of an ego.”

“And by ego, you mean God complex.”

“That too.”

You smiled faintly at their assessment. “Thanks. I don’t know how much of this is me or the amnesia, but…”

“It’s you now,” Ten shrugged.

“Soup’s on!” Kunhang suddenly announced to the entire camp.

As servings started being passed out to everyone who had swarmed the station, you accepted one as it was handed to you, then there was one dish left. The others looked around with confusion, realizing exactly who was missing as all their gazes turned in the direction of Kun’s tent.

“Is the captain… napping?” Kunhang hazarded a guess.

“No way that man takes naps,” Yangyang shook his head furiously. “Maybe he didn’t hear you? ZEN? Did you accidentally isolate his comms?” And almost immediately, followed it up with, “Oh my god, of course, my bad, I’m sorry. You would never make a mistake like that, you’re in Kunhang’s neural port, you know exactly who he wants to be talking to.”

“Is he okay?” The Professor asked aloud as well, presumably to ZEN, the only one of you who would have real-time information on that sort of thing. “Oh. Well should we… go get him?”

You picked up the extra bowl. “I’ve got it.”

Without another word, you headed off towards Kun’s tent. The front flap was down, but unzipped, and you stopped just outside to call out to him.

“Kun? Can I come in?” You requested.

“Yeah.” Came his short reply.

You ducked your head as you stepped in, careful to shield the food from the tarp as you entered. You had already grabbed the disinfecting wipe two med-pods from Dejun before starting the food prep with Ten and Kunhang, so you wouldn’t need to duck back out for those. Kun was laying on his back on his cot, which you were honestly surprised about. He started slowly sitting up as you approached, and once he seemed settled, you handed his food to him, then pulled up your usual container seat.

“Thank you,” he said, leaning his elbows on his knees.

“Did you actually stay in here the whole time?” You inquired, picking up your first bite on your utensil. “While I was gone?”

“I felt like I was going crazy, but yes.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “You should borrow Yangyang’s book next. Dejun seems to be enjoying it.”

“His robotics textbook?” Kun clarified doubtfully.

“It’s on roboethics. And what else are you going to do?”

“Good point.” He ran a hand through his hair. “But hopefully, I won’t have civvie-mandated bed rest again and need entertainment.”

“Depends on how you do with two med-pods, and how soon you get tuned up.” You pointed your utensil at him accusatorily. “You should rest while you can. You’ll be useless to your crew if you’re in even worse shape somewhere more dangerous than here.”

“Noted. So you, ZEN, and the Professor are almost done with the scrubbing protocol?”

“Technically, we’re done. But it was so close to mess that the Professor asked if I could let him try some of the last sections by himself tonight before giving him the real translation in the morning.”

“Anything useful for searching for the proof of concept?”

“Not that I could tell,” you sighed. “It just kept talking about preserving it, nothing about if that was in a physical location, or digital. And Yangyang said that a proof of concept could be proving any tiny facet of the final product, so we have no clue what this thing could be. Could be a single circuit for all we know.”

“It’d be something groundbreaking. Something worth risking a security breach.”

“And what does groundbreaking look like, exactly?”

“Yeah, that’s the problem, huh?”

“Mm-hm.” You had finished your food, and set it aside as Kun had a couple more bites left of his. “I think the organic material that Dejun found will be interesting, once he can analyze it on the Vision.”

“If there’s enough,” Kun added, also putting his empty plate down.

You started reaching into your pockets for your supplies, “Lie down.”

He reached for your bandaged hand. “Let me see your hand.”

You held it away from him. “Your injections—”

“I’m not avoiding,” he promised. “I’ll take care of you, then you can take care of me, okay?”

After a beat, you relented. “Alright.”

Kun began unwrapping the bandages as precisely as he had wound them in the first place, slowly revealing the gauze underneath. He left that as he reached over to grab his canteen, preparing to rinse the cut again. As he peeled the gauze off, you saw his eyes widen as you felt your own take it in as well. The gauze itself was stained with dark red blood, but your skin was fully mended, no open wound, no scabbing, not even a scar.

“What the fuck?” He breathed out, pure bewilderment in his tone.

You weren’t sure what to say, well aware that wasn’t supposed to happen. “Uh—”

“Wiggle your fingers,” he instructed, and you did so. “Does that hurt?”

“No.” It felt normal, no pain, no residual issues from having a knife go into the skin and muscle.

“Make a fist.”

You curled your fingers into a loose fist, then a tighter one when you realized it didn’t hurt.

“That hurt?” Kun asked again.

“No.”

He took your hand, pressing one of his thumbs into your previously-injured palm, hard. “That?”

“Nothing. It… It feels fine.”

He let you go, still looking down at your hand that you were hovering in between the two of you, unsure. “Maybe you’re part-Phaser?”

“My eyes aren’t silver, are they?” You moved your gaze up to his questioningly. “I feel like you guys would’ve mentioned that…”

“No, they’re not.” He shook his head. “Maybe it’s like… your great-grandma was a Phaser or something.”

“…I don’t know.”

“I’m going to wrap this up again,” Kun declared, grabbing a fresh piece of gauze and bandage.

“Why?”

His brow was set, face serious and tone level as he addressed you, “This is between us, do you understand?”

“I… Okay.” You nodded, swallowing down all your questions, most of which Kun couldn’t even answer. “Thank you.”

After Kun had finished bandaging up your perfectly fine palm, he dutifully laid back down, this time on his front, for you to administer the first of the med-pods. As you disinfected the injection site, you once again felt a strange sense of urgency to talk to him as much as you could, ask him as many questions as possible while you had this uninterrupted, strangely personal-feeling time with him.

“Do you like me?”

Kun immediately shot up to his elbows, and you could see the muscles in his back tense with the movement then stay tensed. “ZEN, stop eavesdropping.” A moment later, he looked upwards as he rolled his eyes at nothing. “Yeah, I know you’re in my neural port, don’t make me take you out of there. I said blackout my mic, including to you.”

You looked at him with mild alarm. You’d never been entirely alone with any crew member of the Vision, you knew that ZEN was always there, and knowing that it now really was just you and Kun only added to the odd feeling of intimacy you had about the situation.

He now turned his focus to you, looking at you over his shoulder. “Excuse me?”

“Like, as a person?” You tacked on some clarification. “I’m still trying to figure out who I am, and the others have said stuff like that—”

“Like what, exactly?”

“That they like having me around, or consider me a friend of some sort. I don’t know, I’m trying to figure out if I’m likeable.”

“Word of advice, Y/N.” He settled back down. “Don’t try to define yourself by how other people think of you. It’s never going to end well.”

“I’ll… take that under advisement, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” You positioned the first med pod.

“Does it matter?”

“Not for that, no.”

“For something else?”

You clicked the button, beginning the first injection. “Your refusal to answer is rather frustrating.”

“Your insistence that I answer is fascinating.”

“I’m getting a strange sense of déjà vu right now…” You snorted, thinking about your pointless little argument over him wanting to walk with you.

“You questioned my motives for wanting to walk with you, I’m questioning yours for asking me that question. Is that unfair?”

“I only know six people. Seven including ZEN,” you pointed out frankly. “So excuse me for maybe being a little nervous about whether or not those six people dislike me.”

He paused for too long to be comfortable before answering. “No, I don’t dislike you.”

“Not an affirmative.”

“Y/N, you’re afraid that I’m being polite? That I’ve just been tolerating you this whole time?”

“Yes, I suppose.”

“Do I seem like a man who would waste so much of my time on niceties?”

“Well… no.”

“There you go. Seven out of seven, congrats,” he said dryly.

“ZEN likes me?” You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you took the now-empty med pod off his back and grabbed the next one.

“He can’t hear us right now, but if he could, he’d agree with me.”

“Thanks, Kun.”

“I don’t know what that says for your general likeability that all of us like you, though.”

“That’s alright. You’re the only seven people I know.”

The next morning, everyone split up to look for the proof of concept. Just as you’d thought, the rest of the manual had given no more clues to its whereabouts, form, or purpose, and ZEN hadn’t found any new information in the computer to assist you either.

You were with Kun and Ten in the employee quarters, searching every nook and cranny you could for anything that seemed to be of importance. Either a fair amount of stuff had already been removed, or the employees didn’t have very many personal belongings to begin with. Often, you could only tell if someone had been living in a room if something was slightly askew, a bedsheet out of place, desk chair not pushed in all the way, lamp light left on. There was no personal memorabilia like pictures or knickknacks in any of the rooms you searched through, and you wondered to yourself if they had no family to bring a picture of, or if they couldn’t for some reason. The barren, muted grey walls were discouraging, but you still kept a secondary search going in the back of your mind, waiting to see if anything would spark some familiarity. If you could find your own quarters, maybe.

As you looked under someone’s bed, Kun went through the small dresser, and Ten rummaged around in their desk. The staff sergeant let out an incredulous noise, making you look over at him as he held up a small paperback book for you and Kun to see.

“Frankenstein,” he announced. “Bit on the nose, isn’t it?”

“Do you not like robots, Ten?” You asked curiously as he tossed the book onto the desk and went back to searching.

“Robots are fine, AI is fine. I don’t like the idea of people-robots,” he clarified. “I like all of those things—robots, AI, humans—to be very distinct from each other. Instead of worrying about turning into Victor Frankenstein, I think humanity should be worrying about turning into Icarus.”

“Icarus?”

“Old myth from an ancient Earth civilization. Icarus was a human who had wax wings built for him. He flew too close to the Sun, they melted, and he fell into the sea and died. It’s a lesson about hubris.”

“Unless they hollowed out the book to hide something in there, I don’t really care,” Kun interrupted sternly.

“No, I’ve got nothing,” Ten responded.

“Me too,” you sighed, standing back up.

“Next room, then,” Kun declared with little fanfare.

At camp that afternoon, the three teams had comparable results: Nothing. No proof of concept, or anything more interesting than the random book Ten had found.

The Professor, Yangyang, and ZEN were finishing up the secondary task you all had for today, marking off the dead employees from the comms directory, and the rest of you started on your evening chores.

“Done!” The Professor announced, drawing in the rest of the crew to gather around. “And uh, Y/N isn’t the only survivor.”

Nervous murmurs erupted around you, and you started at the Professor with wide eyes.

“W-Who?” You stammered out, your mind racing immediately.

“The Research Director, Dr. Yoon. He’s not here. Everyone else on the directory is accounted for, and we have no unidentified humans.”

“What do we know about him?” Ten addressed the group as a whole.

“Not much,” Yangyang spoke up. “Civilian only on technicality. He’s worked for the UHN for the past 40 years as a researcher. Everything else on him is classified since ZEN’s fragment has a lower clearance by default.”

“If he was here, then whatever he was doing was much worse than the rumors,” Kun interjected coarsely, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You know this guy?” The roboticist asked him, clearly surprised.

“Heard of him. At the UHN from other officers. I thought he was… retired. I suppose a guy like that couldn’t ever retire, though.”

“UHN probably told everyone he retired so they could send him out here for this super secret, super illegal experiment,” Ten suggested.

“Yeah, probably,” Kun agreed, his voice still short as his face didn’t lose the troubled look that had overtaken it since the Professor stood up.

“Don’t feel too bad, Captain, you probably weren’t even a Lieutenant back then, and it would’ve been need to know. Way above your head at the time,” Kunhang said, going to pat him on the shoulder, but one hard gaze from the captain stopped his hand in midair.

“We’re done here,” Kun declared, stepping back from the group.

“Alright, cool, before we break, what’s the plan for tomorrow?” Kunhang questioned.

“I mean we’re done here. On Aegeum. We’ve gotten everything we need. Be ready to leave the surface after mess tomorrow morning,” he turned away sharply.

Ten called after him, “Wait, Cap—”

“Dismissed.” Kun tossed back over his shoulder, taking off from camp with a fast stride.

“And he’s gone.” Ten sighed, then looked around at all of you, who were equally dumbfounded. “What the hell?”

You were still watching after Kun’s quickly retreating figure as the others erupted into uncertain chatter. Some were still discussing the other survivor, while others were elatedly discussing finally getting off of Aegeum and where they’d go next.

“Sorry, excuse me, guys,” you excused yourself hastily, rushing off in the direction you saw Kun go.

You found him by the river, on a rockier patch of shoreline. He threw a rock at an angle towards the water, the stone immediately breaking the surface and sinking. The captain silently picked up another, casting it harshly into the river.

You stopped a fair distance away as you hesitantly called out, “Kun?”

“Yes?” He didn’t look back at you, just picked up another rock.

“Do you want to be alone?”

Another throw, plop, and sink. “You can stay.”

“Thanks.” You approached, keeping some space between you. “Who is Dr. Yoon, really?”

He turned over the rock in his hand before sharply throwing it at the water, creating a spray around it as it violently broke the surface on its way under. “He was the head of the program I was put in, at the UHN.”

“With the skeletal enhancements.”

“I thought he was dead. He was supposed to be dead.”

“How… did he supposedly die?”

“Skipper raid on the facility he was working at. Entire building was destroyed. No survivors.” He stated, though his voice was hard. “Or so I thought. I should’ve known the Devil wouldn’t have gone like that.”

“But somehow he ended up here.”

“Yeah…” He replied bitterly. Grabbing another stone, he motioned you closer. “Come here.”

“Huh?” You stayed in place as you tried to comprehend the sudden shift in conversation.

“I’m going to teach you how to skip a rock.”

“No offense, but you haven’t actually skipped a single rock while we’ve been standing here.”

“Trust me.”

“How do you know I don’t already know how to skip a rock?”

“How do you know that you do?” He replied with an eyebrow arched.

“…Alright, teach me how to skip rocks,” you relented, stepping towards him.

Kun stood behind you as you took the rock in your own hand.

“Okay, so first, you want to hold it like this.” He used both of his hands to readjust the positioning of your hand and fingers on the stone. “And you’ve got to stand like this.” He made some minute corrections to the alignment of your shoulders, hips, and arm holding the rock. Then, his hand was wrapping around the back of yours that held the rock, gently guiding it through a demonstration of the throw arc. “And you want to kind of swing, flick, release it out there, and follow through.”

“And are all of your rock skipping lessons this… interactive?” You questioned, turning your head towards the side where he was looking over your shoulder.

“Are you going to do it?” He asked, returning your slight teasing tone.

You wound your arm back, then did just as he’d shown you, swing, flick, release, and follow through. The rock skipped across the surface three times before sinking.

“Huh. You’re a pretty good teacher, Kun.”

“And here you were just questioning my methods.”

“Not their efficacy, just how often you implement them.” You looked back at him again, where he hadn’t moved from his instructional position. You hadn’t been close to the captain like this before, but you didn’t really mind.

“You’re a special case,” he murmured, meeting your gaze steadily. You found yourself holding your breath, watching as his eyes flicked down, then he suddenly stepped back.

Your back felt oddly cool as you turned to face him. Scrambling for another topic, you found yourself thinking about what else he had said at the very short status meeting. “So tomorrow we leave.”

“I want you to stay with us,” he said, taking you by surprise. “We don’t know enough about what was going on here, and with Dr. Yoon in the wind… We can’t—I can’t just leave you on Earth alone.”

“We’ve never known what was going on here, and you had never mentioned not taking me to UHN Main,” you pointed out calmly. “It’s Dr. Yoon, isn’t it?”

“The program I was in wasn’t just some skeletal enhancements and nice armor,” he admitted, sitting in the neighboring grass just a couple steps away.

“What else…?” You followed, sitting down next to him.

“I left Dura-Jil when I was fifteen, for the program.”

“You can’t enlist until you’re eighteen.”

“Didn’t enlist, I was selected, along with a bunch of others.” He said the word ‘selected’ with a hint of irony. “I was one of the oldest. We were supposed to save humanity, after some training, and a few… modifications. My age was probably why my body had a harder time acclimating to the modifications. I could only take the first round of skeletal enhancements, brainstem neural port, and cardiopulmonary augmentation.” He turned his head and parted some of his hair, letting you see the small port at the base of his skull. “Neural ports aren’t unheard of at the UHN—Wong and Ten have them, but theirs are situated higher up, since implantation in the brainstem is much riskier. But we had a special purpose, and they needed access to the brainstem for ours. It was the second round of skeletal enhancements that almost crippled me.”

“Almost?” You echoed, thinking of how well he seemed, aside from the degradation of his skeletal enhancements.

“Most of us who didn’t make it through either died or were beyond repair. Admiral Lee picked me back up, put me back together, and let me enroll in the Academy to join as an officer.”

“As in… Admiral Lee, the head of Intelligence?”

“Yes. Though, back then, he was only Vice Admiral.”

“Learning that not everyone wants the same kind of life… Were you talking about the life that the program had prescribed for you? Or the one that Admiral Lee gave you?”

“All of it, I think,” he let out a cynical chuckle.

“And what kind of life do you want now? For yourself?”

“Y/N…” He turned his focus from where it had been on the river to you. “I didn’t tell you all of that as a heart-on-my-sleeve, vulnerable moment. You deserve to know that I’m not entirely human.”

“Is that really how you feel? Inhuman?”

He sighed, looking down at himself. “There are parts of me that are… manufactured. Irrevocably altered. I don’t think I remember how it felt before I was like this.”

“So what do you think you are, then? If not human?” You asked curiously.

“I think Liu would classify me as a cyborg?”

“I didn’t ask what Yangyang would classify you as. I asked what you think you are.”

“I’m… something else,” he determined, voice hollow.

“Kun…”

“Hm?” He gazed over at you.

“Thank you for telling me. I do care, about all of that. Because it’s you, it’s about you, part of who you are, whether you think that’s for better or for worse. But that doesn’t make you any less in my eyes,” you said sincerely.

“Any less human?”

“Any less… you. Don’t you get it? That’s what I care about, not your alleged humanity, or lack thereof.”

“When Admiral Lee told me Dr. Yoon was dead, I celebrated,” he said with a cold kind of humor.

“I think that’s warranted.”

“Not because a bad man who had done bad things to me and other kids was dead. But because—because finally, the part of me that still wanted to make him proud had died with him.”

“Kun… I’m going to tell you something that I think you already know. Just because he played a part in how your body physically developed, does not mean that he made you the man that you are now. You are not his creation, or even Admiral Lee’s. You are your own person, whole and complete. A sum of all the parts, everything you’ve been through, and everything you’ve learned. But you. Not anybody else.” You placed a hand on his forearm, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You do not owe that man anything.”

He looked down at your hand. “I don’t think I ever want you to remember…”

“What?”

“Knowing that he might’ve… to you. I think it might be better for you to never remember.” Kun slowly put his hand over yours.

“Oh…”

“What are we doing, Y/N?”

You looked around uncertainly. “Uh… sitting?”

“Why are you sitting with me right now? Instead of starting mess with everyone else back at camp?”

“Because I’d rather be here than there. Is that hard to believe?”

“No. I just…” He breathed out, looking down at your connected hands. “I can’t promise you any sort of normal life. Or anything, really. Other than me.”

“I wouldn’t really know what a normal life is. I have a feeling that I wasn’t exactly living one before this, either,” you pointed out. “That’s all I can offer, too. Myself.”

“That’s more than enough.”

“And so are you.” You reassured him. “So? Will you let us…?”

He swallowed, then nodded. “Sure, yes.”

“Thank you,” you said quietly, scooting closer to him.

“There will be no way to keep this from the others,” he cautioned.

“Just how many warnings are you going to try to scare me off with before you realize I don’t care?”

“I was stating a fact.”

“It was the way you said it, how you looked at me. Like you expected me to leave,” you frowned.

“It should’ve at least given you pause. All of this should’ve,” he shook his head, carefully taking his arm back to loop it around your shoulders.

“And yet it didn’t.”

The two of you were quiet for another moment, then you heard Kun scoff under his breath.

“Yeah, ZEN?” He addressed the AI tersely. “Fine, you can patch him through... What do you need, Wong? Yeah, we’ll be there in a minute.”

“Soup’s on?” You guessed.

“Yeah…” He sighed, not making a move to leave yet.

“Do you… want to go?”

“In a minute.”

By the time you got back to camp, the others were already sat around the campfire with their dishes, though it looked like they hadn’t started eating yet.

“There you are!” The Professor waved to the two of you as soon as he saw you. “Thought we were going to have to send a search party or something.”

“We had to walk all the way back here,” Kun said plainly, grabbing both of the extra dishes from the food prep station and handing you one. “You all could have started without us.”

“ZEN said you were only—” Yangyang got cut off by Ten elbowing him in the side. “Ow! What was that for?”

“Thanks for waiting,” you opted not to address whatever that was, sitting down in the single large gap left between Dejun and the Professor, in the spot closer to your tentmate.

“So what’s the next destination, then, Captain?” Ten inquired. “Dropping Y/N off at UHN Main for debriefing?”

“Oh, shit, yeah.” Kunhang shook his head. “It’s weird, I got so used to you being here, Y/N. Kind of forgot you weren’t actually one of us.”

“Yeah, we’ll miss you,” Dejun patted your shoulder, then focused a pointed stare on the youngest crew member. “And I’ll miss you extra when Liu sleeptalks.”

“Thanks, guys,” you gave them all an appreciative smile before looking at Kun out of the corner of your eye uncertainly.

Kun cleared his throat. “However, Y/N will be staying with us for the foreseeable future, due—”

“Seriously?!” Yangyang interrupted incredulously. “I got chewed out for like two hours for even suggesting—”

“Because at the time, it was the reckless and stupid option,” Kun cut him off strictly. “But, if you had let me finish what I was saying, Lieutenant, I would’ve been able to explain that I now believe it’s the safer option for her. We don’t know the whereabouts of the other survivor, and there’s a very good chance that he has the proof with him—whatever it is. There’s too many uncertainties for us to leave Y/N on Earth alone.”

“You think this Dr. Yoon is a danger to Y/N?” The Professor questioned.

“More of a danger than being around us?” Dejun added.

“Yes,” the captain replied very seriously. “We’re a self-contained vessel; our courses aren’t plotted externally ahead of time, our missions aren’t documented in a centralized record after the fact, and we’re undetectable in flight as well. Nobody will know about her unless we want them to.”

Ten nodded. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

“Hell yeah!” Kunhang grinned and held a hand up towards you. “Welcome aboard.”

You accepted his high-five with a laugh. “Thanks, Kunhang.”

“So back to my question, then,” Ten cocked his head. “Where to next?”

“UHN Main,” Kun answered. “I need to provide the Admiral with an update, in person. We also need to resupply, and you all are due for some shore leave.”

They all erupted into cheers, and you found yourself smiling down at your food, too. UHN Main, where Kun could get his much-needed readjustment.

The rest of dinner was an amiable, jovial affair as the crew spitballed ideas for their shore leave. After the food was finished, everyone pitched in with cleaning up and packing away the materials that wouldn’t be needed again. You were leaving tomorrow.

“Y/N,” Dejun called for you when pretty much everything was done, but the others were still milling about, talking to each other excitedly. “Let me take a look at your hand in the tent.”

“Oh, uhm—” You gave in to his insistent tug on your elbow, despite your brain frantically trying to think of a reason why he couldn’t inspect your perfectly healed palm.

In your tent, Dejun started rooting through one of his med packs as you were still stumbling through the beginning of an excuse.

“Dejun, you don’t need to—”

“I know,” he said simply, standing back up and handing you a disinfectant wipe and two med-pods. “Captain’s got you. Right?”

“…Right.” You accepted the supplies. “Thanks.”

“Are you okay with this?”

“With what?”

“Staying with us. You know, not getting a normal life yet. I know you can’t remember, or maybe don’t know what that’s like, but… I don’t want you to think you have to do this. The UHN can give you a new identity, hide you in other ways.”

You paused, looking at him curiously. “Why did you join the UHN, Dejun?”

“After med school, I did my residency at a rehab clinic for veterans. Thought I could make more of a difference if I got to them earlier.” He fidgeted with the holster around his thigh.

“I’m okay with this,” you assured him. “Whatever kind of life I had before, normal or not… I can never go back to it. Even if I remember, it’ll never be the same. And after the war—who does have a normal life anymore? Or gets to say what that is?”

“Alright.” Dejun patted your shoulder. “I’m happy to have you aboard, don’t get me wrong. Not trying to get rid of you or anything. Just want to make sure you know your options.”

“Thanks, Dejun.” You gave him a smile before ducking out of the tent.

You couldn’t see the others around the campfire anymore, but you swore you heard voices and what sounded like splashing in the direction of the river. One last late-night swim, it seemed.

“Kun?” You waited outside his tent.

“Come in!” He beckoned you in just a moment later.

Kun was sitting on his cot, a thin paperback book in his hands.

“Is that the book Ten found earlier?” You asked, moving over the container you usually sat on.

“Yeah.” He held it up so you could see the cover. Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus by Mary Shelley.

“I didn’t realize you’d grabbed it.”

“ZEN could probably pull it up for me, back on the Vision. But my eyes hurt looking at those screens for too long, you know?” He put in a bookmark, a folded-up piece of graph paper, before setting the book aside.

He laid down without prompting, reaching around to adjust his shirt for you. You ripped open the antiseptic wipe first.

“So why now?” You asked, disinfecting the injection site. “Why do you want to leave Aegeum now? There were lots of other times you could’ve called the mission over.”

“I need to report Dr. Yoon being alive to Admiral Lee as soon as possible.”

“Do you think that Admiral Lee knew he was alive?” You took out the first med-pod.

“No, Admiral Lee hates him as much as I do,” Kun said, staring ahead of him. “And the Admiral has never lied to me. When he can’t tell me something, he lets me know.”

“Do you think you’ll be going after him? Dr. Yoon?”

Click.

“I’ll need further directions from the Admiral.” He ran a hand through his hair. “If we don’t have any leads, he’ll probably just have us focus on our original mission.”

“And what is the mission?”

“Well…”

“I’m part of the crew now, kind of. Indefinitely. Shouldn’t I get to know what your mission that you’re on actually is?”

“No, you’re right. I’m trying to find the best starting place,” he mused. “So, the Intergalactic War ended almost a year ago.”

“Yes, I did know that,” you informed him, carefully picking through your memory. “It was the United Human Intercosmic Territories against Ourogos, the K’llor, and some factions of A-Jregth.”

You used the proper name for the A-Jregth, as opposed to the common, less-than-flattering human nickname for them—Dumbo, for their large ears that reminded the first UHN soldiers to make contact with them of elephants. In that moment, you couldn’t recall the original connection between the name and the Earth animal, but that could wait.

“Well, UHIT is much less united now; we’ve got a lot on our plate trying to keep ourselves together. Especially with some planets of Phasers and other human-originated species talking about wanting independence from humans.”

“On the grounds that they’re not humans?” You guessed.

“Exactly. There’s rumors of talks of secession.” The med-pod clicked then, and he paused as you grabbed the next one. Once you had them swapped out, he continued, “The aliens’ alliance has completely dissolved, however. Before we came here, we were on Ourogos; it’s especially nasty there. They’re almost in a civil war, trapped between two zealots vying for power ever since their leader, Busr Gorkourontorous, was assassinated. The Fisheads and Dumbo went back to their own business, and the Skippers are doing what they’ve always done.”

“You don’t sound too troubled about any of that.”

“The more time they spend killing each other, the more time we have to figure our own shit out.”

Moving your gaze from the med-pod to his face, you asked, “When did the busr die?”

“Recently,” he replied knowingly.

“Did one of you…?”

“We didn’t pull the trigger,” Kun said. “But we supplied the gun. And the bullet.”

“Arms dealing. To both sides?”

“The more of them that are dead, the fewer there will be to come kill humans.” He finally looked back at you. “That’s our mission. Less dead humans.”

“Do you think you’re accomplishing that?” You held his eye contact, leaning forward to rest your elbows on your knee and prop up your chin with one of your palms.

“That’s not my determination to make right now. Not yet.”

“You’re a self-contained vessel. That comes with quite a bit of leeway with decision-making, doesn’t it?”

“Day-to-day decisions, yes. Admiral Lee has put a lot of trust in me. But every one of my calls is supposed to be made with that objective in mind.”

The second med-pod finished, and you took it off him as well, setting it at your feet with the rest of the trash that you’d take with you to put in Dejun’s medical disposal container in your tent. For once, neither of you made a move to leave now that it was done.

“How did you end up on Aegeum?” You asked.

“Intelligence guy picked up chatter from some Skippers. He didn’t speak Skipper, but he could make out one word they kept saying over and over that sounded like human. You know Skipper, it sounds like a bunch of chipmunks chittering about, so the word ‘Aegeum’ kind of caught his attention. Relayed it back to Admiral Lee. He sent us out here.”

“Do you have the recording of the Skippers? The Professor or ZEN…?”

“UHN translators have been working on it since we’ve been down here. It might be done, I’ll have to check once we’re back on the Vision.”

“Kind of makes me think…” You mused aloud. “About what would’ve happened if you all hadn’t found me. If I would’ve ever gotten out of that shelter.”

“I know you don’t remember how you got in there, but… what do you think you would’ve done? If you’d left the shelter, you’d have been able to survive off the ag bubble indefinitely, at least.”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, messing with your fingers. “I-I didn’t know, or didn’t remember, what was going on outside of the shelter other than the smell, but I had this feeling that I shouldn’t leave it, and I shouldn’t be found, you know? But when I saw you and Kunhang, and I knew you were UHN—I knew that the UHN was safe, at least. So… I really don’t know if I would’ve ever left.”

You watched as he slowly started sitting back up, and he thankfully didn’t clutch his back, wince, or groan this time. The two med-pods seemed to be doing pretty well for him. But they were only a temporary fix.

“You’re going to get your tune-up at UHN Main, right?” You looked at him seriously. “You’ll give your report to Admiral Lee, the crew will go on shore leave, and you’ll get your adjustment?”

“Yes, Y/N,” he confirmed with a hint of a smile. “I’ll get my adjustment while we’re there.”

“Good.”

“But then what excuse will you have for coming into my quarters every night?”

You landed a soft kick against his ankle at his teasing words, making him snicker. “You say that as if the crew know why I’ve been doing it in the first place. Other than Dejun, they have no clue. Who knows what they’re thinking now.”

“That’s true.” He still had a hint of a chuckle in his voice. “Speaking of… I have a spare bunk in my cabin on the Vision, you’re welcome to it. Or you can room with the Professor, if you’d like. I’m sure he’d enjoy the opportunity to ask you more about Outspacer.”

“Wait, if you both have spare bunks, then why is Dejun rooming with Yangyang, who talks in his sleep?” You cocked your head in bewilderment. “Why doesn’t he just stay with one of you so he isn’t disturbed by Yangyang’s sleeptalking?”

“Kid can’t sleep by himself. Apparently wasn’t a problem until he got onto a ship. We’ve offered for Xiao to move, but—” Kun shrugged.

“He’s a good teammate.” You then circled back to his original offer, bringing your hand up to tap your chin as if deep in thought. “I’ll have to think about it… Staying in the captain’s quarters, wouldn’t want anybody to get the wrong idea, you know?”

“Oh, of course not.”

“And I should probably be getting back to my tent,” you sighed melodramatically, slowly getting to your feet. “I’ve been in here for a suspicious amount of time already, don’t you think?”

“Hold on—ZEN? Where are the others?” Kun was still as he listened to ZEN’s response from within his neural port. “Great. Cut out your incoming audiovisual feed from me, but let me know when they start heading back, okay? Thanks.”

You tilted your head in a silent question.

“Everyone’s down at the river still,” he informed you, offering his hand out to you. “We have some time.”

“Mm… okay.” You placed your hand in his.

Kun scooted over to make some room beside him on the cot, and you accepted the invitation, sitting beside him instead of on the container like before.

“Are you ready? To leave?” He asked quietly.

“Yeah. I don’t really have a lot of personal effects to pack up, so…” You shrugged. “Though, I was curious about getting from the facility to your ship. Is the atmosphere breathable?”

“It’s a bit thin. Unfortunately, we weren’t expecting to acquire anybody while we were down here, so we don’t have an extra suit for you on the dropship. Xiao has masks with limited oxygen supply, you should be okay with one of those for the short walk on the surface.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“But I wasn’t asking you if you were packed,” he continued, rubbing a thumb over the back of your hand. “I mean, this is the only place you can remember. Are you ready to leave it?”

You nodded in determination. “I am. It’s unfortunate that we didn’t find the proof of concept or figure out why the Skippers were here, but I have no personal reservations about leaving. This isn’t my home.”

“Okay, good.”

“What are you going to say about me? In your report to the Admiral?”

“I’ll give him a brief update when we get back on the Vision tomorrow, before leaving. I’ll say we found a survivor, and we’re headed back to UHN Main so I can make a full report, but that’ll be it. I know you’ve only met his dumbed-down safety version, but ZEN’s a very good AI, he’ll keep the connection between the Admiral and I secure while I report.”

“This has been ZEN dumbed down?” You repeated with a smile. “I’m excited to meet him fully, then.”

“He’s something else,” Kun said with a shake of his head. “Like what I just had to do, asking him to butt out to get some privacy. ZEN at full capacity understands the concept of appropriate levels of snooping. This one, you have to give some clearer direction. He understands when we don’t need to hear each other—most of the time—but can’t turn off incoming audiovisual to himself of his own volition.”

“You must be used to his omnipresence on the Vision. His main nexus is there, I’m assuming he’s throughout the ship’s systems.”

“Well yes, but I don’t really care if he hears our talk around the mess table or sees me cleaning my armor. This… is different.”

“How so?”

“Well—”

“I’m kidding, Kun,” you laughed, bumping your shoulder against his. “I like knowing that we’re really alone, too. Makes it feel more… intimate, I think.”

“I agree.”

“There is one thing I’ll miss about Aegeum, though.”

“What’s that?”

“Those strawberries were really good.”

Kun’s eyes crinkled as he smiled fondly. “They were. Do you want to go get some?”

“Now?”

“Why not? One last handful, a midnight snack.”

“I do.”

And so the two of you quietly slipped out of his tent, hurrying off in the direction of the strawberry fields. You could hear the others by the river, though their voices and splashing got more distant the nearer you got to the fields. Finally, you made it to the strawberry patch, and the air of the ag bubble was peaceful around you.

There were small, hidden lights along the pathways and edges of the fields that automatically turned on at night, affording just enough brightness for you to be able to distinguish the fruits on the bushes as Kun went to pick them. He handed you the first one he grabbed, then bit into the second himself.

“Kun, you’ve got some on your face,” you pointed out, and he went to wipe at his right cheek. You shook your head with a giggle, bringing your own thumb up to his left cheek. “No, you— Here, I’ve got it.”

“Oh now that’s not fair,” he complained with an air of teasing in his tone.

“Why’s that?”

“You don’t have anything on your face, so I don’t have an excuse to charmingly cradle your cheek like you’re doing to me.”

“How about you do it anyway—” You took his free hand and brought it up to your face, “—and while we’re here, you can kiss me like you’ve been thinking about doing since the river today?”

“Am I easy to read or have you failed to mention that you’re a mind reader?”

“The first one,” you teased.

“All those years of intelligence operative training were wasted, apparently,” he chuckled.

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

You met him halfway, closing the distance and melting into a kiss that tasted of the sweet-tart strawberry juice still on your lips. You took your hand from his face to tangle your fingers in the hair at the back of his head, definitely longer than regulation, and he continue pressing his lips to yours over and over, as if making up for every moment tonight that he had wanted to kiss you but didn’t. You lost track of how many strawberry sweet kisses the two of you exchanged between bites, conversation, hushed bursts of laughter, and even more strawberries. And you thought that if this was part of your normal, no matter how fleeting, you could be pretty happy with this.

⇢ next | series masterlist | blog masterlist

[bengiyo]

BL 2023 Review

I wasn’t sure how I wanted to write about BL for this year. I was originally going to do a The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly framework for it, but that feels meaner than I actually am about it. Instead, I think I’ll just write out some sections and unpack some things I felt along the way.

I Watched Too Much Again

Last year I engaged with about 92 productions around the world. This year it was 99 (I tracked stuff I completed here). Sure I dropped 18 of them this year, but goddamn. The problem with watching as much as I did this year is that I worked full time this year and also maintained a separate hobby. I also continued my twice-weekly watch sessions with my friend Emily, so there are an additional 100-ish watch sessions in here of rewatching, plus a few other rewatches (Theory of Love and My Ride most notably).

One of my struggles at this point is I’m far too familiar with the genre, and find myself feeling impatient and irritable with shows that aren’t to my taste the way I used to. Throughout the late summer and fall I found myself increasingly grumpier about the genre, and it didn’t get better until I had a holiday and basically slept a day to get some energy back. I also found myself growing apart from fans I’ve known and followed a long time. It’s been a difficult year for me as a long-time fan because my tastes, habits, and friendships in the genre have changed even if the amount I watch hasn’t really.

I Wrote a Lot This Year

I recently converted my watch tag away from my gaming internet persona to just my shortname, so all near-1000 of my Stray Thoughts posts can be found under #ben watches now. I’ve also been going back and adding #ben writes to some of the standalone pieces that I really liked. In reviewing them, the pieces I’m happiest about are my ode to Framboise from Kabe Koji Nekoyashiki-kun Desires to Be Recognized, my post begging everyone to watch La Pluie, my post about what it means to actually like queer men, my SBS ep 10 post that ended up being wrong, my post about the Lavender Scare and Be My Favorite, my Tokyo in April is… post about the breaking of the BL line,

However, the two posts I am most proud of is my half-joking response about why I think tagging each other back and forth across Tumblr in our writing is so important. and The Knowing: Being Queer in BL because I had so much great conversations with folks as a result of both of these posts.

Looking back at my own blog, this is probably the most active I’ve been in my entire time on this website, so thank you to everyone who interacted with me this year, because it really is people talking to me that gets me most inspired to write things down. Big shout out to @lurkingshan who will bug me repeatedly until I blog something that I said in passing.

We Started a Podcast!

After hanging out with @shortpplfedup since Bad Buddy, she got inspired and really wanted to bring something different to the BL podcasting sphere. I had time, and liked talking with her enough, so we started @the-conversation-pod. Now we’re a full year into it and planning out future stuff. It’s been so much fun being able to get things off my soul and break poor NiNi in our recording sessions.

From this year, I think my favorite episodes we did were The Moonlight Chicken Episode, the Eighth Sense episode, the ITSAY Anniversary Episodes,  The Wedding Plan episode, , and The Holiday Clip Show. Huge shout out to @ginnymoonbeam for anchoring the transcription process, and @lurkingshan for editing.

The VIIB Awards will begin airing soontm so look forward to that.

Favorite New Term: Business Gay Performance

Let’s be clear, Bump Up Business is not good. It is an obvious BL cash grab from OnlyOneOf that seeks to comment on the fake nature of BL while doing everything it can to trick the audience into believing that the BL pair is real.

Before we got deeper into this year, I was a big fan of a certain pairing, and then their fans took it too far and it affected the way I engaged with their performances and their work. I like that we have a new term for “fanservice” that communicates that you understand that this is for work. (thanks to NiNi for this comparison) I can look at the latest behind the scenes video from Last Twilight and say that I think Sea really understands the work they’re doing, and he and Jimmy have a very relaxed and mature version of BGP without feeling like I’m feeding into shipping.

Do I think they’re dating? No. Do I like the way they fake it? Absolutely!

I can look at one of @respectthepetty posts about Yin and War having personalized, color-coded mics, and we can talk about the next level BGP between the two and both communicate that we know that this is a performance.

It actually makes the extra PR work fun for me again, because now I can just shout “BGP! BGP! BGP!” and it not feel like I’m giving myself brainrot.

Thai BL Needs to Finish Stronger Next Year

Let’s get into some of the show stuff. This year was defined for me by Thai BL starting strong with good premises and then squandering them by not focusing on the details that mattered or leaning into baseless melodrama. Time for some reads. Some of these shows were generally good, but they failed at these things:

609 Bedtime Story: The world building crumpled in the back half and both endings are flat.

A Boss and a Babe: Cher is a pro gamer who worked for a gaming company and there was no plot point about this at all, or collaboration between the two groups.

Bake Me Please: Why was a show about cake so lacking in flavor?

Be Mine SuperStar: You had a real opportunity to explore a fan and idol romance and had Punn show so little growth. I hope the footage of First’s range is helpful now that Ja is out of BL.

Be My Favorite: You redid that whole amusement park date and muddled so much of what the hell happened on that day.

Between Us: You had years to make this interesting. Why are there five pairs and why is the end of this a JC Penny catalog photoshoot?

Dangerous Romance: What the fuck happened to the Sailom we had in episode 1 and 2 before that gun incident?

Hidden Agenda: Tee, what the hell was this? Twelve weeks of this?

I Feel You Linger in the Air: You may be the most beautiful show, with some of the most impressive performances of the year, but you absolutely botched this ending. Finish the goddamn season next time.

Love in Translation: I love you, but that whole kidnapping plot was so stupid at the end.

Low Frequency: I like your OST. That's about it.

My Dear Gangster Oppa: No examination about how gaming friendships become close quickly because of the combination of anonymity and teamwork (shout out to @twig-tea for this excellent summation).

My School President: Saving your gay commentary for the final episode felt like a conservative choice. I want more from you next time.

Naughty Babe: You retconned your own characters to tell a worse story. Unforgiveable.

Never Let Me Go: You didn’t know if you wanted to be a high school BL or a mafia story. It was difficult to watch.

Only Friends: I cannot believe you did Boston like that at the end. Either give Force’s character a clear personality next time, or keep him enigmatic; half measures make him and Book look worse. Sand was absolutely embarrassing. Boeing was a waste. Ending on all of them paired like that felt so unearned.

Step By Step: You forgot to ground Jeng’s external dreams at the end, so the final two episodes are just frustrating.

I’m glad I got that off my chest. We can go into the next year now.

Korea Put in the Work This Year

I really like the efforts from the various Korean studios this year. I really hope we get a Strongberry joint next year, but I want to acknowledge that we had 18 Korean BL dramas I watched this year, and at least three of them I think are must watches: Our Dating Sim, Sing My Crush, and The Eighth Sense. Beyond that, I think Love Tractor, Unintentional Love Story, and A Breeze of Love are easy recommendations.

It’s really impressive how the complaint for me this year with Korean BL is not about them using their time poorly. It’s more about normal drama concerns, where I think characterization is a little weak, or a theme doesn’t land squarely. This rapid iteration from the Korean studios is really impressive to watch, and I’m excited to see what some of the recognized players do next year.

Taiwan and The Philippines Have Been Quiet for Me

I wasn’t really able to connect with much from the Philippines this year except for The Day I Loved You. I never wrote about The Day I Loved You, but this beautiful and heart wrenching show is one of my favorites from this year. I wasn’t too keen on the Oxin Films offerings of this year, and I’m still chasing down the ones from The IdeaFirst Company.

As for Taiwan, this new BL project from the end of the year just isn’t hitting. Kiseki: Dear to Me also ended up really hurting me with the way they used Wayne Song and Huang Chun Chih. I love that angry little man with the white hair, but I’m still salty about Wayne and the general mess of that show.

Japan was Busy This Year

I watched 16 new shows, a few older ones, and a few movies this year from Japan. We haven’t gotten this much from them ever. I continue to love the Drama Shower project from MBS, and my beloved What Did You Eat Yesterday? returned this year. We had pretty stellar outings with Our Dining Table, If It’s With You, and I Cannot Reach You.

I think a third of the Japanese BL I’ve tracked on MDL actually released this year. That’s huge.

Still, I am going to side eye Minato’s Laundromat 2. You were the show that let me down the most this entire year. More than Only Friends, more than Step By Step, and even more than Kiseki. You absolutely blew it. You were telling a great story about a man with an acute case of internalized homophobia coming out of his shell and learning to love his younger partner and you blew it for stupid amnesia nonsense. I will never forgive you for this.

Where Were All the Uncles This Year?

Really, without Jim from Moonlight Chicken, and without the men from What Did You Eat Yesterday? we had an alarming dearth of older gay characters passing on knowledge and wisdom to the youngsters this year. What the hell happened?

Rare Dynamics Won: Second Chance Romance and Friends to Lovers!

We had so much second chance romance this year. It’s really my favorite version of gay romance because gays don’t always have ideal settings when they’re young. We had Our Dating Sim, Individual Circumstances, Jun & Jun, The End of the World With You, Tokyo in April is…, Be My Favorite, Love Class Season 2, and A Breeze of Love. I am satisfied.

Friends to Lovers is actually so rare in romance and we have so many to choose from this year! The best examples are I Cannot Reach You and Sing My Crush, but we also have one of the pairs in Love Class Season 2.

Gay Thoughts

I had a couple of ongoing thoughts this year about queerness in BL.

First, I want to return to my post about Sing My Crush and La Pluie, and how I assert that Men Need to Be Angry Sometimes. More than giving men grace to be righteously angry or upset about things, along with letting them express it in ugly ways, I really want to get into how we engage with these shows. I will stop engaging with moralistic reads on characters in 2024. I will no longer engage with asks, reblogs, or meta gripping the fandom where we're judging the moral fiber of the character.

The question that really only matters for me at this point is: Is this act from the character justified from their characterization, the narrative, or genre conventions; and is it interesting? Whether or not the character is good or bad reeks of the lame arguments about good and bad representation, and I am not watching BL like I’m being graded in Sunday school.

The second thing I really want to acknowledge at the end of the year is that the gay sex is finally getting better again. I watched The Novelist this year, and we have taken so long to get back to the space that show took us on the portrayal of male-male intimacy. We are in the genre about people with dicks. It should feel like it. There should be a masculine component there that feels specific to queer intimacy.

I will acknowledge 2 Cutie 2 Pie, A Boss and a Babe, Be Mine SuperStar, Bed Friend, Candy Color Paradox, For Him, I Cannot Reach You, Kiseki: Dear to Me, La Pluie, Love Class 2, Love in Translation, Love Mate, Middleman’s Love, Naughty Babe, Only Friends, The End of the World With You, Tokyo in April is…, and Wedding Plan for your contributions.

Final Thoughts

I like how broad the genre felt this year, and I enjoyed how much speculative fiction is entering into the conversation. I don’t know how I feel about there being five vampire stories in the works next year, but overall I’m glad that we’re getting more experimental concepts. I’m burnt out on the college engineering BL, and would like to see more shows about working adults.

Despite how grumpy I was for at least three months, I think this has genuinely been one of the best years we’ve ever had in the genre. I made a lot of new friends in BL this year, and I’m excited to see what comes next. Thank you all for spending some of your time with me this year and I’ll see you in the next one.