#Anyways singing lessons might do me good either way since my normal voice is very timid and if i need more volume i reach a limit very fast

[pipariperho]

Ever since the coworkers night out I have been making a playlist for songs I could potentially sing when we have another karaoke night and then practise singing them in my car. Today was my longest session since I drove for 2 hours to visit my parents and like 5 minutes before I arrived I once again found the spot where I can sing almost effortlessly with a strong voice and it's so weird, like, am I secretly an opera singer, or is this just some pretentious shit I made up that sounds terrible af irl? Who can tell, not me until I record myself singing that way and overanalyse the shit out of it. I just would love it if I could access that way of singing faster than this.

[kekoma]

— semi as your boyfriend.

can’t imagine not crushing on this man. hope you enjoy.

many many thoughts with this man.

so many that it hurts in good way.

first of all, semi MOST LIKELY named one of his guitars after you.

and i’m not talking about some ordinary guitar that he may occasionally play or anything— nah, i’m talking about the most expensive one that’s gorgeous.

takes the utter most care of that guitar since he plays it often and no one is allowed to touch it.

def learns the songs you like and covers them because this man has bomb ass vocals. i said what i said and won’t take it back.

or he just plays the melody, asking that you sing instead (if you’re up to it)

when semi isn’t covering/playing songs for you then he’s writing them about you.

you’re his sole inspiration for most of the songs he ends up creating and you’re also the first one to hear it before anyone else too.

also something to point out— he creates most of those songs during the night when you’re around.

semi knows most late nights can pull out the strangest topics but it can also open you and him up at the same time when it comes to emotions.

so he’ll be staring at you from his computer chair with his guitar resting on his lap, listening precisely to every word that slip pass your lips as you laid on his bed; rambling about your emotions and how you’re thankful that the universe has put you two in the same timeline.

suddenly he starts strumming a soft tune that makes you feel like you’re floating and turning those words you said not too long ago into something lyrical, something that you two will understand but those that hear it would need to decipher (because there’s no way he’s making it easy for outsiders to understand)

AND if you know a few things about music, can sing well from taking lessons/taking a chorus class in school and/or play an instrument then semi is going AWOOGA 😍 

def can see him wanting to collab with you or asking if you could be his hidden vocals/use your voice in general (meaning he would ask you to record a fake voicemail or say his name a certain way so he can put it in the song)

although if you aren’t comfortable with that concept then he understands and won’t push you to do anything.

whew let me move on because i could literally go on and on about this man being musically talented.

anyways, semi def creates a bunch of playlist for you. 

each one having a description for why it was made and the feeling he wants to give off with it.

something i feel like he may also do is send over songs he currently listens to and says you should listen to it too so you both feel more connected.

BUT really stepping aside from music.

he’s extremely caring and respectful towards you.

truly studies you, making mental notes about everything and makes sure he avoids cause any discomfort.

when it comes to caring— semi semi here might go out his way to show you through his actions if he feels his words and physical touches may not be enough.

i’ll say he’s a bit clingy— dude loves being around you no matter what.

for sure invites you to his volleyball practices and games.

you’re his lucky charm and he enjoys the thought of knowing you’re supportive of him when it comes to volleyball.

also he’s supportive of anything you do as well, even shows up to your events too (but if it clashes with a volleyball then he won’t be able to go obviously but he makes it up by ordering food in and asking you to tell him all the details about what happened)

now i briefly brought pda earlier and its about that time to talk about it... does eita like it?

yeah he does but it’s not very common in public.

the best you’ll get from him is holding hands, small pecks on the lips/cheeks and ONCE in a blue moon will he wrap his arms around you from behind.

there’s no real reason for why he’s like that but hopefully you’re understanding.

now in private; he does a bit more pda. kisses become a bit more frequent, won’t pass up the chance to hold you in his arms through cuddling or whatever.

side fact: semi definitely likes when you’re in between his legs, your back pressed against his chest and the guitar would be settled on your legs— basically teaching you how to play (if you ever asked him to)

“where do i place my fingers next?”

“right here... you’ll bring your pinky up a bit but keep these two fingers on the the second fret.” he’ll carefully move one of your fingers just to put them in the correct place.

“then you’ll strum. i’ll let you try it without my help this time.”

literally would smile when you do it, finding himself falling deeper in love with you than before.

semi adores that you’re willing to learn something he’s very passionate about it and appreciates you for even taking the time for it when you could do other things.

vvv soft and we stan that here.

moving on— lets talk about nicknames really quick.

drumroll please 🥁🥁🥁 

top nicknames: my melody/melody, love, angel and occasionally he’ll toss in lotus along with bambi. 

had to keep it cute and interesting <3 semi isn’t going for the basics.

something to mention, we’ve all seen the way he dresses in casual clothes... now you can either a) hype him up about his clothes to the point he’s no longer concerned about how tendou says he looks uncool or b) help the boy out with his style just a bit. all up to you cutie.

heh now let me discuss dates right because whew~ dates with this cutie? hits deliciously.

of course most of the dates are music related so tickets to a concert is on there, going to certain places (such as a park with others and a little picnic set up) to see free performances from new/upcoming artists and etc.

“that last set was actually good, don’t you think so melody?”

“yeah~ i liked the emotions the singer had in her voice. it really connected with me but what do you think?”

“same thing as you. however, did you notice how they had a shift in the cords that created the perfect harmonic? and it wasn’t completely soft too.”

“now that i think about it, my ears didn’t catch on the first time but yeah. oh look! the next act is going up~!”

but when he isn’t dragging you out for that then he mainly takes you out for a drive/walk around the city, cafes, those karaoke places that also serves food, shopping and stay-at-home dates which he tries his best to make them fun (there’s probably more but im just naming a few here)

dates are normally chilled with him and always fun so we loving it.

bonus: semi FOR SURE has you as his lockscreen. no doubt about it.

he loves waking up to your picture in the morning or even checking the time because he gets to see how adorable his love is.

also on his sns (instagram mainly)— he has a highlight called ‘me and my melody 🎶🤍’ which is filled with a bunch of pictures of you two together.

the pictures are so cute that they end up on Pinterest and everyone starts  spamming your dms with ��so 👀 does your boyfriend have any siblings?”, “can you drop a tutorial on how to get a fine boyfriend like yours?”, “ayo 😳 think i can have him on the weekends and you get him for the weekdays?” and much more crazier things we won’t mention here.

another bonus: probably sings you to sleep if you’re having trouble sleeping. don’t try fighting me on this because i won’t allow it.

ANYWAYS, to conclude this before i have complete semi brainrot— dating this man is a 10/10 and it’s worth it.

we love semi eita over here <333

© all content belongs to kekoma 2020. do not repost, modify or translate.

[myfriendsarerealidiots]

Comparing Adaptations

‘Kay so I went on one of my whims again and did something stupid. Couple weeks or so ago, I wasn’t really in the mood to watch anime so I opened up Netflix and watched a Cdrama that I wanted to watch for a while now.

That Cdrama was ‘The Untamed’ which, prior to me watching it and doing said whim, I thought was just your typical historic Cdrama. Oh boy I was wrong. As I was watching it, I was thinking to myself, “This show’s really selling itself off as BL.” Which, I found out after finishing it was because it is BL. Hah...and that was just the start of it.

As I was doing my ‘Post-show research,’ I found out that it was based of a novel, called ‘Mo Dao Zu Shi’or as translated by the people on the internet as ‘Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation.’ Said novel had 2 more adaptations along with ‘The Untamed’ which were a manhua and a donghua. So me being me, I decided to watch the donghua adaptation and read both the og novel and manhua.

So how I went through this was...

The Untamed (2019)

The Donghua aka Anime I guess

The Manhua which I read while having class (such a responsible student aren’t I)

The original novel

All hail this person who has too much free time on her hands.

Anyways, as it says on the tin, I’ll be comparing the 4 adaptations/versions of the story and see what changes between them as well as the pros and cons. (Wow I sound so professional)

Some background of myself just to avoid confusion

I am not a mega hardcore Fujoshi. I don’t really enjoy reading smut, nor am I old enough to do so bear that in mind

I have 7 years worth of Chinese lessons under my belt which means I barely understand a thing and that I can get some of the jokes like how Wei Ying’s sword is called ‘Sui Bien’ and it’s funnier to hear in Chinese. In other words, compared to like actual Chinese people who live in China, I pretty much have the knowledge of a 10 year old.

The versions of the Manhua and Novel that I read were translated in English so somethings might have been lost in translation.

I have a bit of a goldfish brain so forgive me if I wrote something wrong or forgot the name of a certain character, most likely I will look it up to correct it but if I don’t...well sorry.

I am writing my opinions on each version as I finish them, so if they don’t link up to the original that’s the reasoning behind it.

All of these are my opinions and thoughts on the story. You are not entitled to follow them if you disagree. I personally believe that everyone has a voice of their own and they should use it. (Even though I don’t half of the time.)

Slight Spoiler Warning

I will be breaking down some of the scenes and characters for my comparisons so please keep that in mind.

The Untamed (2019)

As this was my first exposure to the story, I didn’t know what to expect. I loved everything about it except for the fact that literally half of the show was spent in the past, building context for what was happening in the present.

The characters were lovable and all had distict personalities, especially Wei Ying and Lan Zhan which I guess makes sense since they’re the main characters (their actors are also cute and have good chemistry.) Speaking of characters, Yanli has a more forward role in the story here compared to the other versions. The way certain characters were introduced was different too. Since it’s live action, it’s also harder to show things like extreme blushing and such so it makes Lan Zhan look very stoic and way more unexpressive here than in the other versions.

The soundtrack is nice to listen to, especially with the 2 mains singing the theme song together it’s so cute and gives it another meaning in itself. Although, I do wonder how that poor bamboo flute Wei Ying made in like 2 mins plays decent sounding music. Chen Qing(is this the name of it?), the flute he uses after his trip to the Burial Grounds has the same sound quality as that bamboo flute which is just, “how???”

They took out most of the extreme BL!!! I feel like that is the biggest difference between this version and all the rest. I know they did that to appeal to more people but it does remove some of the context to things. That doesn’t mean the moments that were kept in weren’t cute though. It did make the pair look more plantonic than romantic.

As for the story itself, as a story on its own, it’s nice, as an adaptation that’s where the line gets blurry but it leans more towards the good side. They did indeed change some things, made them work better with the medium than if they didn’t.

An example I can place is the mask. Where the other versions used white make up with oddly placed red circles around the eyes, this one used a mask instead. I agree with the choice they made, seeing as they removed the fact that Mo Xuanyu was homosexual and so the make up wouldn’t make sense. It also looks nicer than what I imagined what could’ve happened with they kept with the make up. They do make a reference to this in the show when Jin Ling and Wei Ying have a conversation in Carp Tower. ���You’ve seen my face right?” “How do I know? Your face is always caked in make up or covered by that mask.”

Another issue I had which I’ll touch on later was the first episode—I had no idea what was going on for those 40 minutes of screentime.

Donghua

As of writing this post, season 3 of this has yet to come out.

My first reaction to this was “Man, the animation’s pretty, and they made Wei Ying look scarier.” Watching stuff at 12 in the morning isn’t the best thing but that’s what I do.

Anywho, this version made Wei Ying really attracted to going down the path of ‘evil’ compared to the other versions. I don’t really understand why they made this change...but they did so we have to deal with that. And his eyes glow red!! It makes him look scary and cool at the same time. I love it!!

The transitions between certain events were a bit weird to say the least. For example, at the end of episode 2/3 Wei Ying gets forcibly dragged into the Cloud Recesses and the episode ends there. By the next episode, we’re 16/23/13 however many years in the past. This makes it really confusing for someone who hasn’t watched or read any other version of the story. It definitely made me confused and I already finished one.

While ‘The Untamed’ told us everything in one long flashback, the donghua broke it up into small chunks placed whenever information was needed. I don’t think that was a good idea, but then I also think it was a better decision than what they did for the Cdrama. As I watched this adaptation, I found myself confused from time to time because what happened in the prior episode didn’t always match what happened in the current episode like I mentioned earlier.

As for the artstyle, personally, I think some of the characters look similar minus the hair. However, I do like the little ways they made Lan Zhan express his feelings towards Wei Ying.

Speaking of which, when I first saw them together in this version in the forest near the Goddess Temple, I had to do a bit of a double take because of the height difference which wasn’t so evident in ‘The Untamed’. I soon found out that Lan Zhan was taller than Wei Ying before and after he gets reincarnated(?) Prior, it was just a small gap of 2cm which later turned to 6cm after possessing Mo Xuanyu.

I didn’t notice their height gaps while watching ‘The Untamed’ because Wei Ying’s actor, Xiao Zhan, is taller than Lan Zhan’s actor, Wang Yi Bo by about 2 inches which is like 5 cm? and so they had to do some weird thing with platforms to make Xiao Zhan look shorter in comparison.

Soundtrack wise, I personally think that ‘The Untamed’ was better in that sense. Where it had an amazing souding flute, this one had minor earrape in a nutshell.

This version made itself, in my eyes look more like a historical fighting anime as opposed to the BL vibes I was getting from ‘The Untamed’ and the other versions. They added a lot of action scenes and made the mystery more interesting for me. Along with this, the overall look and feel of this made it seem like it came from a completely different source material.

Manhua

Small FYI, as of writing this post the Manhua is at 147 Chapters.

(I should’ve kept up the trend and got a screenshot from that scene in the Manhua but I didn’t so here we are with gay rabbits.)

As your local internet friend who reads more manga than normal books nowadays, I enjoyed reading the manhua and finished it in a couple days.

Compared to the first 2 versions here, these last 2 are both things that you have to read to get through, albeit one has pictures and one doesn’t.

While normally, one would read silently, I like listening to music while I do. And seeing as the OST of ‘The Untamed’ sounds really nice, I listened to it while reading both the manhua and novel when I could.

This one brought out the BL elements that were missing from the first 2. They gave Wei Ying and Lan Zhan a lot of kissing or just straight up affectionate scenes which I think ties in with the general theming of the original novel more.

As this one is probably the closest of the adaptations to the original, it’s the least confusing to read, although that might’ve been influenced by my experiencing the story for the third time at this point. I say that, however, there were many story elements that weren’t present in either one prior to this.

Examples this can be seen with their collecting of body parts that belonged to the former Nie Sect Leader. In ‘The Untamed’ they find the sword spirit which guides them through the rest of the story. In the Donghua adaptation, they get the arm, but also get the head of the the Jin with the hundred holes curse which was an original addition. Here, they get the arm from Mo Manor, find the other one then find the torso and so on before finding the head in Jin GuangYao’s possession.

The flashbacks in this version were also executed really well, in my opinion, as it doesn’t feel super confusing while reading it and it gives just enough information to help the events unfold. It also gives us a chance to see how much of an ass(sorry) Wei Ying was when he was the Yiling Patriach from his own perspective as well as give us a moment of WangXian in the middle of all that chaos.

Novel

Here’s a picture of gay rabbits for everyone.

At this point, I was switching between the novel and the Manhua to read whichever one I wanted at any given time which might have blurred my sense of what belonged in each one so I’ll try my best to make sure.

Since this one is the original source material, it was clear from the get go that this will be the one with the least confusing version of events and the most amount of detail.

I was surprised on how close the manhua and ‘The Untamed’ was to the novel. Although, the former condensed the mystery to fit within the timeframe while the latter hasn’t finished just yet.

Personally, I like this author, and will probably read more of her works further down the line. Even though the version I read was in english, I still could feel the meaning behind certain aspects which I think shows her skill as an author.

The novel clearly shows the mischief that goes through Wei Ying’s head and their gradual (I say gradual but I think Lan Zhan just snapped) change of attitudes towards each other.

Arc One- Mo Manor

Past here I’ll break down the first arc of each one because I think all of them did it in relatively different ways. Be warned for spoilers if you haven’t watched or read all of them.

The Untamed (2019)

Out of all of these versions, this one definitely had me scratching my head in confusion the most even after watching it a second time once I finished the entire show.

As the only version that had the curse issued at the start as a moving factor of the story as well as the Yin Iron which was specifically made for this version, it didn’t explain enough at the start.

There were many things I could say were wrong about this beginning, from starting at a flashback to not properly introducing us to our characters but the biggest problem in my mind was the lack of explanation at the present.

Like I mentioned, starting at a flashback is a terrible idea as it gives the viewer high expectations only for it to be crushed the second it ends. Here, it shows a small portion of the battle at the Nightless City without much context then it quickly changes to 16 years later with a seemingly random group of people.

Another issue is the amount of useless characters who were introduced. In the other versions, there were only 2 Lan disciples who were given names and were introduced properly while here there were more than I want to count. Add to that the one telling stories about the YiLing Patriarch and the weird guy walking around with a flag, and you got yourself total confusion.

Donghua

This one was slightly less confusing to watch. As it starts with a clip of Wei Ying commanding corpses which matches the overall feel of the donghua. The rumors that he died stretched over the time skip and we meet this version of Mo Xuanyu who is caked with make up, whether or not he was a cut-sleeve (gay) in this version, I forgot.

It fully explains the curse and instead of having a couple of Lan disciples just standing there watching, we get to focus on the 2 important ones, Lan Sizhui and Lan JiYing. It gives us a slightly deeper insight into Wei Ying’s mind, as he states ‘you got the wrong one,’ just after being reincarnated, indicating that he isn’t as vicious as painted by the first few minutes of the show. Like the other versions, they also show how he considers the cons of using his demonic abilities and that Sizhui would probably tell on him to Lan Zhan, meaning that Sizhui was a keen, observant young man.

Manhua and the Novel

As for the introductions, these two were very similar. Both have the rumors of the Yiling Patriarch across the screen as we get further down the story and meet our main character.

It gets the details from the Donghua adaptation and mixes it with more information to create a more detailed account of what was happening, also making this Wei Ying seem smarter compared to his counterparts in other versions. He also hesitates more on showing his abilities, knowing that he’s going to be caught if he does.

Final Thoughts

As of writing this, I’m only halfway through the novel but it covers the portion until where the manhua is currently at. I would finish reading it before posting this but it would take too long and probably make this post even longer than it currently is, which isn’t such a good idea. If I had much more patience and effort I would really like to break down each arc and their differences from one another but I can’t be bothered right now. (Sorry)

I can safely say that in terms of adaptations, ‘The Untamed’ is relatively close to the novel, albeit a very condensed version. As flashback filled as it is, it wasn’t very confusing to watch past the first two episodes.

The Donghua adaptation takes several liberties, going more of an action oriented route instead of the calmer more, I wouldn’t say love but character oriented novel.

The manhua is definitely the closest to the novel, so if you really don’t want to read a lot of words, and I mean a lot of words, then go ahead and read it.

What else do I have to say...if you’re new to the story, welcome, if you’re a veteran who’s been here longer than me, sorry for taking up space on your feed. And congrats for making it to the end.

[xiolaperry]

The Piano - Chapter 8

Summary: Belle French and her daughter arrive in New Zealand to an arranged marriage with Gaston LeGume.  Gaston shows little interest in her or her piano and books. However, Mr. Gold is fascinated… (Rumbelling of the 1993 film “The Piano”)

Rating: E (for smut, dark subject matter and violence)

Also available on AO3

-

When Gaston came home and saw the piano, he was furious.

“What is this doing here?”

Belle did not acknowledge him.

“Answer me!” He grabbed a pile of books from the table and threw them to the ground in a rage. Belle's hands clenched into fists at the sight of them on the floor.

“Mr. Gold has given it back,” said Tilly, coming to her mother's rescue.

“You will not ruin this land deal for me.” He shook his finger in Belle's face. Without waiting for a response, he stormed out, almost ripping the door off its hinges.

What would people think if Gold took that land back? They'd say Gold tricked him, and he'd look foolish. He’d already started fences to mark the boundary! If Belle had worked some kind of deal behind his back, he didn't know what he'd do to her. She'd regret it.

“Gold!” he yelled, pounding on the door. “I know you're in there!” There was no reply. He barged in.

The sight of Gold sitting at the table, his head resting on his arms, stopped him in his tracks. Gold was never disheveled or caught in a vulnerable position. Some of Gaston’s anger dissipated from the surprise.

“Are you sick?”

“Something like that.”

“Listen, Gold. You're not going to weasel your way out of this agreement. The land is mine. If Belle isn't doing a good enough job teaching you, we can figure something else out.”

Gold raised his head. “I don't want to learn anymore.”

“What about our deal? I can't afford the piano if you expect me to pay for it.”

“No payment. I've given it back.”

“But I don’t need a piano.”

“I'm not giving it to you, dearie. I'm giving it to your wife.” Idiot.

“Oh. I see.” He didn't. He was more confused than ever. Since when did Gold give anybody anything? “I'm sure she'll appreciate it.”

The whiskey bottle caught Gaston's eye. Only an inch of amber liquid remained at the bottom. “Wait a minute. Are you drunk? This still counts, even if you're drunk.”

Gold's head hurt. He could endure this conversation no longer.

“Leave before I change my mind.” He would do no such thing, but Gaston didn't know that. He put his head back down. The door creaked open and then closed again. Footsteps went down the porch steps. Blessed silence. Until the hinges groaned again.

“Gaston, I told you to get out.”

“I'm not Gaston.”

Someone else was here. Wonderful. It took significant effort to lean back and open his eyes. “What do you want?”

Granny stood before him, hands on her hips. “I saw your face when you left last night.”

“And?”

“I don't think I've ever seen you look so distressed. Not even when you lost your top hat to Kamira in a card game.”

“Indigestion. That's all it was.”

“The piano's gone.” Granny swept her arm to the empty spot in the room.

“How observant of you.”

“Where are your manners, Gold? Aren't you going to invite an old woman to sit down?”

“I would if I wanted you to stay. But I don't.”

She sat down anyway.

“Is everyone being deliberately dense today? I obviously don't want visitors. I'm quite busy. This whiskey isn't going to finish itself.” He poured the rest into his cup with a flourish.

Granny sighed. “I saw Gaston Legume leave. He looked very pleased with himself. You gave that piano back and let him keep the acreage, didn’t you? You have feelings for that woman, Belle. You're smarter than this. Snap out of it. This can only end badly.”

“If I wanted your opinion, I'd ask for it.” His tone went from antagonistic to defeated. “And it has ended. It's over. Done. Like this conversation.”

Her face softened. She reached out and touched his hand. “Gold, I'm worried about you.”

“That's it. I'm going to bed.” He downed the rest of the whiskey and staggered to his feet, his grip on his cane the only thing keeping him from falling over. Granny helped him to the bed. She took off his shoes and covered him with a blanket. Gold muttered something unintelligible. She doubted it was complimentary.

“Sleep it off, you grumpy old bastard. You'll feel better when you wake up.”

---

Pleased that everything had worked out so well, Gaston whistled as he strolled back to the house. Looking like a fool was his biggest fear, and now the opposite happened. He got to keep the land and his odd wife had her piano back without cost or inconvenience to himself. It couldn't have turned out better if he had planned the entire thing.

He remembered holding Belle's hand at the play. The experience wasn’t terrible. Maybe she was warming up to him? Perhaps everything would work out with her too. He knew he'd be good at this husband thing.

Gaston entered the house. Belle was stroking the piano keys with an expression on her face that he didn’t understand.

“Everything all right with it?” he asked. “Why don't you play something?”

Belle stepped back from the piano and gestured to Tilly to take her place. She was reluctant to perform for the man who traded what she held dear with no thought to her feelings. Not to mention how angry Gaston had been just a short time ago, yelling and throwing things. People who threw books were not to be trusted. Now he was acting as though nothing happened.

“What shall I play?” asked Tilly, pleased to be the center of attention.

“Something fun.”

Tilly played an upbeat tune. “Would you like me to sing along?”

“Yes, that would be nice. At least someone is happy.”

After listening for a few seconds, Belle walked out of the house. There was a jumble of emotions inside of her: confusion with Gold, irritation with Gaston and her marriage. What did it all mean? She should be happy. Mr. Gold returned her precious things to her, no more bartering for black keys.

Attempting to analyze what happened that afternoon, Belle replayed the event in her mind. He'd said, “I've had enough.” Initially, she’d taken that as rejection. He was bored with her and didn't want her anymore. But then he said he wanted her to care for him. The self-loathing in his voice when he said he would turn her into a whore, that he would be a monster. Mr. Gold thought she had rejected him. He was letting her go because he cared for her.

Her mind spun and circled, overwrought. She wrapped her arms around herself and paced.

Gaston watched her from the window.

“Why won't she play? She gets the thing back after being so upset about losing it. Now she just wanders off.” He shook his head. “Women. They make no sense.” They ought to be celebrating. It wasn’t every day that someone bested Gold, and he couldn’t wait to boast about it.

Tilly shrugged and kept playing. Her mother wasn't making any sense to her either.

Her mother's strange mood continued the next morning. Tilly dressed in her costume and wings to get her attention. Why was her mother ignoring her? It was simple: Mr. Gold gave back the piano and books. Mama should be happy. She should be smiling and asking her what she wanted for breakfast. Her child's mind could not see her mother's distraction as anything other than an insult to her.

Gaston noticed she was wearing her costume from the play. Still in a pleasant mood from the day before, he told her how pretty she looked in it as he was leaving. What would Mama do if she started calling Gaston 'Papa'? That might get her attention.

Belle had not spoiled Tilly, but their relationship was unique, symbiotic in nature. Being her mother's voice had altered the normal mother/daughter dynamic. Maurice had loved his granddaughter, but there was always distance – she was a tangible reminder of his daughter's shame. Belle and Tilly had been the center of each other's world. Any rival to her mother’s affections would be met with jealousy.

Belle tried to play her piano, but she kept having to stop. It wasn't the same without Gold. She tried to read a book. He was in her mind and would not leave. She could not endure this. “Do the brave thing, and bravery will follow.” That's what it said in 'Her Handsome Hero.' It was good advice, and she would take it. She would be brave and go to him.

She told Tilly to wash the dishes and read her lessons. Her daughter could not accompany her today. Hurrying, she rushed to fix her hair and lace her boots.

Even though she was instructed to stay behind, Tilly followed her outside. “Wait for me! I want to come too.” She grabbed Belle's skirt.

Belle turned and snatched her skirt back, impatient to be going now that she had decided on a course of action. She signed, “No. Go inside and don’t follow me. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone.”

Tilly stamped her foot, outraged. Accompanying her mother had never been denied to her. “Why not? Why can't I?”

Belle took a deep breath, trying to be patient, but she had to leave before she lost her nerve. “You will listen to me. Go into the house. Now.” Her movements were sharp, irritated.

Tilly ran back in the house, angry tears in her eyes.

[dolphin-enthusiast]

hi there honeybun!! 💘✨🌼 how are you doing love?? i saw that you posted some hc today,, i thought they were very cute! 💕 you should know that when you do get those little bursts of inspiration, you truly do such amazing things darling!! burn-out really does feel awful, no? (1/9)

"well i should say that i saw the anon's dream... wow,, that sounds as if it came straight out of an action movie!!! (which happen to be my favorite genre alongside drama) honestly, i would wake up in a cold sweat too if i dreamt up something like that,, such high intensity warrants lots of emotion for me haha, not to mention that i am quite the skittish person myself (as morgy already knows by now 😅) by the way dear anon, if you do end up finishing the dream, i'd love to hear it hehehe (2/9)

dreams are a funny thing for me,, considering they are either night terrors, surreal/nonsensical, or intensely dramatic,, i don't think i've ever had a straight up pleasant dream before! i can also remember a lot of them, and i like to tell my friends about some of my craziest dreams!! oh, and a little fun tidbit is that i can dream in both color and black/white!! (3/9)

dreaming has always been such a fascinating concept to me, there have been days with my friends where all i'll do is talk about dreams with people,, it's pretty relaxing, especially if the dreams you discuss are nightmares!! it's nice to get such things out of your system after all! 💭 (4/9)

mamma mia,, sorry for the ramble, it annoys most people after a while,, i have a tendency to talk about certain things for a while 😖 well, today consisted of mostly sewing for me, both by hand and with a machine... needless to say my fingers are bruised up now 😂 i bruise pretty easily, so it's normal i guess,, (5/9)

and i have some people now asking me to make them stuff!! i'd love to but with a lack of motivation and being in a rough spot lately, i don't think i have the capacity for that hehe, maybe some time in the future!! (6/9)

waifu bro was able to show me more of the movie script!! the movie is actually based on his personal interpretation of the song hotel california by the eagles,, it's one of our all-time favorites!! he might actually have me cover the song for him soon!! he said it would mostly receive a mature rating since it is very dark in subject matter, but if he actually ends up producing it, i bet i would be old enough to see it when it releases!! (7/9)

and oh my, a whole year of singing lessons,, i bet you sound amazing dear!! my family could never afford that sort of stuff, so naturally i just sing along to songs casually hehe,, i bet you would've made for an amazing singer amore 💖💖 (8/9)

oh dio, it's now 0:50!! time flies fast when i'm doing the things i love 😊 then that's it for tonight i suppose! buonanotte e sogni d'oro, dolcezza ☀💓 - always with love, waifu xoxo 😍😳😘❤💗💓💕💖💞💘💌💋 ps: if the film ends up being produced in the future, will you go see it with me? 🥺👉👈 (9/9)"

God love again you praise me way too much trust me im really not THAT good at singing esp since i havent attended the lessons bc of the current situation ever since march i think so im a lil rusty even tho i sing by myself many times around the house....if anything i'd say my voice sounds lowkey weird since im an alto and was told i had the deepest timbre out of the girls and it wouldnt be the first time anyway🤡✌️but nevertheless theres much to improve and it aint perfect dhshhzhz and the hcs i wrote were kinda minimal but im glad u liked them?? also watching the movie with you?? A B S O L U T E L Y

I love hotel california but then again its a classic its only natural 😳 again ur bro is a literal icon, his brain is gigantic and i'd pay to watch that shit anyday fam esp if its with u👁️

And dont apologize for rambling since dreams do happen to fascinate me as well... as a matter of fact i just woke up from a very cursed one thats gonna get me hella clowned by one of my mutuals a h a h a but i fully understand ur experiences since i myself usually just dream of nonsensical bits that i dont even remember or its just straight up nightmares🤡🤡🤡🤡 the only exception being that 1 week ago i think i had a surprisingly nice dream that consisted of me achieving some goals which was VERY unexpected considering all i dream of are wacky things so that was nice for once ig hssjdjd

And do b careful w the bruising stuff i cant imagine how hard it must be to embroider like that...my short tempered dumbass would b like i g h t m b o u t t a h e a d o u t in less than a second-

[luki-fanfic]

Dr. Stone Fanfic: Crossed Your Mind - Part 1

Yes I know, it’s not KHR.  But I’m liking this fandom and it’s proving frustratingly effective at distracting me from my other works, so bear with me.

WARNING: suicide of OC, and some minor manga spoilers (end of the stone wars)

—

“Remember Gen, you must always give them enough reason to doubt.”

It’s the mantra his grandmother had uttered every day, before he’d head to school. They’d lived on the outskirts of the town, inside a traditional Japanese home, and the family bitterly held on to every acre around them they could find, no matter how good the offer that came.

It was so isolated, you could almost pretend you were the only one for miles.

Almost, anyway.  And Gen enjoyed the quiet.  It certainly didn’t last long when he had to walk into town, and sound started to echo in his head.  While the citizens and his fellow classmates kept their voices low and polite, their inner voices were no such thing.

‘God, when is he going to call me?’

‘Okay, so if I get A Meal today and the C Meal tomorrow, maybe I can afford two B meals-’

“Ugh, I’m so not ready for that test today.  I’m so screwed!”

‘Dammit, I’m going to be late again!’

Gen winces and resists the urge to cover his ears.

Physic powers are a real burden sometimes.

—

In a place like Japan, filled with overpopulated cities, telepathy is not so much a gift as it is a curse.  It normally runs down his mother’s side, but Gen happened to be one of the lucky males to have it passed down. While movies and comic books might suggest to the common man on the street that having real life super-powers would be cool, Gen will quite happily tell them otherwise.

For one thing, it doesn’t turn off.  It’s a sense, as much as sight and taste, and Gen’s only saving grace is that his own seems to be limited to hearing range at the moment.  His grandmother hears significantly further, and his mother…

Well, she’s not hearing much of anything any more.  But it had been far.

His father does the best he can, raising Gen with his grandmother.  For someone without mind-reading, his father had been a rock.  A psychologist, who worked regularly with police, and had studied ESP as a hobby.  It’s how he’d met his mother, and his days spent analysing witnesses and criminals made him a natural at reading people.  

“If I didn’t know he couldn’t read minds, I’d honestly think he could,” his mother had told at age five, in one of her better moments.  “He knew everything I was thinking just from a smile and a twitch of my hand.”

She wasn’t wrong, and it’s quite frustrating to grow up when both of your parents are impossible to lie to.  On the plus side, they couldn’t lie to him either, and his younger memories are fully of happy moments.

Unfortunately, those became a lot less when his mother’s gift spiked.

—

It gets worse in your mid twenties.  That’s the one thing that seems constant. While the radius remains almost tolerable through childhood and the teens, by 25, the mental reading spikes.  How far varies, but both his mother and grandmother had been brutally honest on what his future entails.  

His grandmother is the only one in the family with the gift to make it past thirty for generations.  And she hasn’t left this house since she was 23.  Not even the threat of bombs during the war had pried her out.  She’d tried to get her daughter to do the same, but she’d ran off to university, positive she could handle it.

At first, she’d been fine.  She’d studied, she’d met Gen’s old man – who found her ability fascinating, and could keep up with her despite his lack of it.  They’d been married in six months, and Gen came along a year later.  When he was two, they learned he’d inherited his mother’s gift, and celebrated his luck.

He was five when his mother started screaming, with the entire city suddenly pounding into her head, and they’d all packed up and moved to the house in the forest while her sanity bled out her eardrums.

Her mother had seen it coming, and tried to help traditionally.  Meditation, and long walks into the country.  Gen, his mother and father, would spend their weekends hiking in the forest, camping in the wild, trying to find areas that were isolated enough to make his mother’s headache tolerable.  Gen is not the outdoors type, but he appreciates the lessons as things he’ll need to learn for his own safety.  If he’s honest, there’s something soothing about the wild – while it frustrates his father, he likes to take off his shoes and wander barefoot when he can.  It genuinely makes him feel at peace.

Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for his mother.  The trips only help so much. Japan is a populated country, and it’s nearly impossible to find yourself outside of civilisation.  While Gen might find it quiet, neither woman ever finds true success.

His father had tried to help her through modern means.  Reduced his hours and thrown himself into parapsychology.  Prescribed any medication that might possibly help.  Sometimes it did.  But she kept getting stronger. Sometimes, the voices were so loud, she couldn’t even tell who was saying what.  Her mental state is so bad at times, his father sometimes thinks to himself she might have genuinely developed schizophrenia.  Which is a dangerous thing to think in a house of telepaths.

On the worst nights, his mother will attack his father, both with her fists, and her words.

“You hate me!” she screams, hands trying to claw at his father’s face.

“I don’t, I love you!” his father screams back, pinning her hands down.  

From his room, Gen just turned and fell into bed, burying deeper into his pillow, pretending that would drown out the words not being spoken.  

Once upon a time nobody in his family ever thought to lie.

But that was a long time ago.

—

If there’s one thing Gen’s ability has taught him, it’s this.  Everybody lies.

It’s a universal constant.  A lot of people don’t even seem to know they’re doing it, but you can’t hide your true feeling from him.  He learns quite young to never trust a smile, or a tear.  He sees and hears first hand someone uttering words of affection while screaming abuse in their head, seen teachers feign affection for eager students when they’re mentally begging them to vanish so they can go drinking.

‘I like you.’

‘It’s no trouble at all.’

‘It’s not that impressive, really.’

‘Gen, I promise, I’ll never hurt you, my baby boy.’

Lies. Lies. Lies.

—

When Gen was eight, he woke up to hear his mother singing in her head.  A happy, ditzy tune, that almost made him hopeful that today was a good day.  That this set of drugs had finally calmed down her hysterics.  In the back of the house, he can hear his grandmother thinking something quite similar, and they laugh to themselves at their need to be hopeful. It’s a thought that stays with them, right up until his mother’s musings cut straight out, leaving frightful silence.

His grandmother screams out loud.  Gen doesn’t, merely jumping out of bed and running towards his mother’s bedroom.

She’s in the cupboard.  She’d used a scarf.  Gen thinks it might have been one he gave her for a birthday, once upon a time.  His grandmother tries to usher him away, but the same thought is going through her head.

His father was away during the incident, and after the funeral, starts looking at Gen differently.  He doesn’t say why – he doesn’t have to.  Gen doesn’t need telepathy to know that his father has suddenly realised his son has a bomb trigger in his head, and his police work falls to the wayside, focused completely on looking at psychic research, looking for something, anything, that might save him.  Gen leaves him to it – it means they speak over phone while he travels, and it keeps things quiet and less depressing at home.

His grandmother has always been the bulk caretaker for him, and that definitely doesn’t change when his mother passes.  If anything, life becomes easier, because they don’t have to worry about her episodes.  A thought that makes both of them feel overwhelmingly guilty, so they never mention it.

To recover, his grandmother teaches him meditation and yoga, ways to calm his mind, and digs out decks of cards to show him tricks.  Given their natural talent, some of ancestors were known in the magic circles – when the world was smaller, and their skills not quite as strong – they worked as magicians, or magicians assistants.  She’s happy to give Gen a hobby that keeps his mind of…well, his mind.  Playing the magician is what allows their family to survive in this modern era - a way for people to explain away their uncanny ability to know all.

Then, his grandmother dies when he’s fourteen, and he’s the only voice in his head for now.

—

When he turns sixteen, he moves to Tokyo, and gets an agent.

His father thinks he’s an idiot.  Begs him to reconsider.  In this day and age, Gen can still be home schooled, and go to university online.  He can have an entire life without ever having to leave their little corner of the world.

Gen is mature enough to admit he might have a point – both of them understand that he has a very tight deadline on his life.  But he wont live like his grandmother, caged in her own house for her own sanity.  And his mother had done everything right and still ended up the way she did. Why spend years studying for a job he might not have the mental faculties to do in a decade?  If that’s his inevitable fate, he’s at least going to enjoy the time he has left and spend it being rich and adored.  

Knowing that people lie, is his strength.  Knowing precisely what they lie about, is something he can use.  While his father might suggest using it to better society, Gen won’t take the risk.  Too many dark and dangerous people to interact with, and the concept is still laughed upon in a lot of enforcement agencies.  Entertainment is far safer – he won’t even be the first in his family to use his skills this way.

The term is ‘Mentalist.’  An entertainer who feigns mind reading or other psychic abilities.  His grandmother had taught him some family methods and the basic card tricks, so he has a pretty good base to start on.  A natural talent at mental tricks, and long, painful hours in a cheap apartment, trying to block out his neighbours voices until he can manipulate a deck backwards and forwards, get him his first gig.  His attractive features, and a knack for knowing just what to say, get him his first TV performance.

A year later, and he’s doing full on shows to a sold out crowd.  Up to a thousand people, all watching him.  All loving him both in their applause and heads.

It’s a drug.  A beautiful, wonderful drug that makes up for living in one of the worlds most over populated cities.

Granted, there’s always a few that don’t enjoy it.  Gen takes pleasure in trying to seek them out whenever he needs an audience member to help him.  The ones that are looking for the trick – Gen does try to keep his act within the realms of possible most of the time.  There needs to be some way for people to guess how he does it, but every now and then, he’ll show off.  Get the biggest disbeliever in the room on stage, and mentally take him apart.  The look of shock, of horror, and astonishment, as this simple being had their entire world view shaken.  When the revelation that they can’t tell anyone because they won’t be believed crosses their mind.  It’s a beautiful thing - Gen thinks he’s personally made at least a dozen sceptics full on psychic believers by this point.

On one occasion, it’s another celebrity.  He’s been booked for a special on exceptional young Japanese citizens, and he’s there for both his psychology and magic credentials.  The piece was fairly run of the mill, with one exceptions – a teen by the name of Shishio Tsukasa.

Although ‘teen’ is a bit of stretch – muscles like that shouldn’t be possible on someone that young.  He’s attending as an example of psychology in fighting – how the state of mind can improve anyone’s abilities. During his own display, Gen can’t deny he’s impressed.  Tsukasa’s mind is calm, and focused, and terrifyingly powerful.

But he also doesn’t believe in magic.  He looks over Gen with the usual polite respect that one in the media masters, but his dismissal of Gen’s talents rings clear as day to him.

As such, when the show cuts for a break, and the two of them are alone in the green room, Gen hides a vicious smirk behind a glass of water, and gets to work.  After a few moments of quiet contemplation, trying to block out the voices around them and focusing on Tsukasa’s own thoughts, he’s ready to go.

“How is dear little Mirai?”

The reaction is beautiful.  He waited until Tsukasa was drinking, and he has to fight back the smirk as the taller teen chokes on the liquid, hand trembling as he drops it to glare over at the mentalist.

Gen gives an innocent smile.

“It’s quite an impressive feat, to soldier all those medical bills on your own.  For what it’s worth, I can completely sympathise.”

That’s not even a lie.  Throwing yourself into work, desperately putting money together to help a family member that has no hope of ever getting better?

Oh, Gen can definitely sympathise.  Tsukasa however, doesn’t seem amused.

“How do you know about Mirai?” he asks, voice low.  Gen completely understands – the teen has gone to extraordinary lengths to keep his little sister’s state out of the media.  There’s only a handful of people who know the Strongest Primate High Schooler even has a sibling.  

“It is my business to know, Tsukasa-chan,” Gen offers, leaning back and resting his hand on one cheek.  “I make a point to know everything about everyone I deal with.  You’d be amazed at the secrets I know.”

“Is that a fact?” Tsukasa asks, body tense, and Gen grins.

“My dear Tsukasa-chan, my entire career is built on reading people,” he says.  “I am young, I am pretty, and I am new to the game.  On the one hand, it works for my brand, but on the other, people always think they can use me for their own good fortune.  If I don’t learn how to manipulate, how to get into the heads of people, I’d never survive.”

He flashes Tsukasa a dark smirk.

“I’m sure you understand this as well as I do.  This world is not fair one, but if you know that, you can still come out on top.”

Tsukasa stays silent, but gives a nod of comprehension, and Gen settles back, satisfied that the indifference in the fighter’s head has been quite firmly replaced with respect.

—

A few months later, Gen is sporting a new black and white hairstyle, and is running through a stage performance to a regular audience.  It’s a small crowd, and there’s nobody he can pick up that’s not genuinely enjoying his act, so there’s no need to psychologically gut anyone in the finale.  Everyone seems happy, and he’ll give them the best show he can to reward that.

Next week, he’ll probably show off, because his father will be attending.  Right now he’s in America, attending some medical conference.  Gen has only seen the man in person since he left for Tokyo three times, but they call regularly.  He’d come to see Gen perform twice, and once come just to yell at him, having taken great offence at Gen’s ‘psychology’ book, especially considering Gen hadn’t even finished High School – but Gen could have seen that coming without psychic powers.  No doubt, he’ll roll his eyes when Gen publicly dissects the biggest sceptic in the crowd for his finale, but then he’ll laugh, and take his famous son out to dinner, before going over the newest research he has in how to keep Gen’s mind sane.

Gen looks forward to it.  Even though he already knows his father has no faith whatsoever that they’ll find a cure in time, no matter what words he might offer.

He’s just completed his final act, one of the more standard ‘magical’ aspects of his performance, where he escapes from a box stabbed with knives, basking in the approving minds, when something dark and ominous hits him like a sledgehammer.

‘What’s happening?’

‘Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.’

‘Am I dying? What is this!’

His smile falters as the voices scream inside his head.  But before he can process the danger, his arms stiffen, his vision vanishes, and he has nothing left but the voices.

Oh god, there’s so many…

‘Is this part of the act?  I don’t like this!”

‘Mom!  I want my mom!’

‘Can anyone hear me!  Help me!’

‘Please!  I’m scared!’

‘HELP!’

He wants to scream. Wants to run away from this darkness and their screams.  But he’s as frozen as everyone else.

Has it finally happened?  Has he succumbed to his family’s curse?  He’s only 19, he supposed to have time left…

But there’s no answer, and the crying, sobbing, frantic minds don’t let up for hours.  But eventually, they start to quiet, and Gen becomes even more alarmed when he starts to realise he can pick out individual voices – the crowd thinning for unknown reasons.

It should be comforting, but with nothing to see, hear, smell…those voices are the only thing keeping him sane.  He cries every time a voice tapers off.

‘Stay!  Come back!’ he begs in his own head.  ‘Don’t leave me alone!’

He doesn’t know how long it takes for the last voice, a young woman whose last thoughts are of her fiancé, to drift away.  But the time after is horrifying.  He’s never been so alone.  There’s always been someone on the edge of his head.  This silence is terrifying.

So, when his own mind starts to drift away, its nothing but a relief.

—

Several thousand years later, he meets Shishio Tsukasa again.  The teen is even more impressive, and the army of stone behind him does not fill Gen with confidence.  Neither does his mental state –and Gen suddenly becomes exceedingly grateful his father would have been in America and is far, far away from him.

He is given clothing, which to his surprise is slightly more elaborate than everyone else, and based on traditional Japanese garb.  It’s the style he’s admitted in interviews and TV appearances to being his preference, and it doesn’t take much to realise he’s being buttered up.  Better clothes to elevate his position in Tsukasa’s new world.  The girl who made them is torn between being happy at making something creative, and being terrified of Gen’s existence. She knows exactly why Gen’s been revived, and she’s not happy about it.

Granted, Gen also knows why he’s been revived, but he can’t tell Tsukasa that.  Any more than he can tell him the one called Senku is still alive.  At this point, he’s not even supposed to know the scientist’s name, so he stays mum.

He’s given a tour of Tsukasa’s kingdom, the strange caves utterly alien to him.  It’s difficult to imagine that this is where Tokyo once stood.  Or that this simple little cave holds the key to their revival.  It’s there that he finds something truly phenomenal.  The date.

Tsukasa had told it to him, but he was still wrapping his head around the concept of what happened that it didn’t register.  But here it is, written on a tree, plain as day.  

Gen’s reeling. Someone was awake during the petrification?  The whole time?  And stayed coherent enough to keep track of the date?  Gen had stayed conscious longer than everyone because he had mental stimulation, and even he’s still iffy on exactly how long he was functioning.  The mental feat this must have taken…

He laughs long and hard in his head when he realises Tsukasa has revived him to track Senku down.  A man Gen suddenly realises he has to meet, no matter what.

So he plays along, trailing after Tsukasa, acting the role of shallow egoist, looking at his options and realising Tsukasa was his key to success in this new world – the person Tsukasa, and most of the modern world, believed he was – looking over Senku’s abandoned hut, and being directed to where Tsukasa had once left a strange blonde girl, only to return and find her missing.

Gen is given a fortnight to hunt down Senku or the village, or Tsukasa will send out a rescue team.  He’s rather surprised that Tsukasa is willing to let him go alone, but then again, a more censored version of his family’s hiking trips have also made it into his biography, so perhaps it’s just rationing resources.  And it does make Gen’s plans so much easier.

—

Once he’s stepped into the forest, and Tsukasa’s mind is no longer close enough to be heard, Gen immediately kicks off the primitive shoes he’d been offered, and sits in the crook of a tree to process what’s just happened.

The world is so quiet.  That’s the first thing he truly registers.  Now that he’s out of the Kingdom of Might, and away from the half dozen people up and running, it’s truly alien at how quiet his head is.  There is nothing but the sounds of wildlife in his ears, and not a single stray thought in his mind.

He hasn’t been this alone in years.  It’s kind of soothing…normal people don’t know how lucky they are, to have this every day.

But as much as he’d love to bask in this quiet, he somehow needs to track down this now infamous ‘Senku’ over untamed wilderness, and figure out a way back without issue.  While he has some outdoors experience, he had modern clothing and supplies on hand, and there’s no markers to help him out, or minds to pick up.

Thankfully, Senku and his blonde friend didn’t do much to cover their tracks. They’re faint from time, but he does manage to follow a trail, finding an old campfire, and then wheel tracks.  He also stumbles across a hot spring, which he admittedly spends a day at before moving on.

Between marking a trail, and his wrong turns, it takes four days before he comes across civilisation.  A beaten mud path that’s probably used by hunters, and when he follows it, he picks up the sound of an instrument, too melodic to be natural.  A few minutes later, he rests at the top of the hill, grinning at the village on the water.

The grin gets wider when he picks up an amazing smell too.  It’s not perfect, but that’s definitely ramen.  And the idea of eating something he didn’t have to gather himself is too good to pass up.

When he walks out of the forest, he settles on a grouping of rocks, just out of sight.  A passing glance at the locals make it clear his getup will stand out like sore thumb, so he needs to stay in observation mode.

Most of the village are hoarded around a bamboo cart, and everyone’s thoughts are filled with only one thing.  How phenomenal this strange food is. They’ve never tasted anything like it.

But there’s one mind that’s running at a frantic pace.  Gen’s almost taken aback – it’s practically speaking another language compared to the more simplistic thoughts around him.  The owner is going over the components of ramen, a string of insanely long chemical components, and most curious of all, counting seconds almost subconsciously.

Gen smiles.  

Hello Senku.

Now, how to approach?  The last time Senku met a fellow modern man, he was supposedly killed.  Gen can’t imagine he’ll be received with much trust.  Gen himself has gone and put together makeshift armour just in case the reaction is more extreme than he expects, so he should expect Senku to be at least that paranoid.

He’s still mulling it over, when an utterly adorable slip of a girl wearing a watermelon on her head hands him a bowl of ramen.  She’s so focused on handing food out, she doesn’t even seem to realise he’s not a villager. Or perhaps that mask is obscuring her eyes?

The ramen itself is…well it’s a painful example of why MSG is in so much food, but the sensation of eating something cooked, that’s been even a little bit processed, is a glorious feeling.  The general aura of delight and joy surrounding him definitely sweeten the bowl too.  One girl even thinks about how they should stretch the rules to get the stranger into the village if he cooks like this.

The teen that can only be Senku is starting to slow down at his cart, and the crowd is dispersing in order to eat, so Gen makes his move.  Something that will get Senku’s attention, but wont appear threatening.

“This ramen is making me wickedly thirsty,” he says with a smile.  “A cola would be great…”

[heroineimages]

Slavery in First Empress

Given the assumed Iron Age setting of First Empress to me it feels... disingenuous not to cover the topic of slavery within the story. I’ve studied plenty of ancient cultures and the only people I’m aware of who didn’t practice slavery was the followers of Zoroastrianism under the Persian Empire. Under the Ancient Greeks, off of whom I based Queen Viarra’s people, slaves were bought and sold and traded like any other commodity or resource, and indenturing oneself or one’s family was a common and legitimate form of favor exchange or debt settlement. 

For the most part, I tend to treat slavery as something normal in First Empress, but I also try to show the consequences. One example from later in the story, Viarra’s hegemony comes under attack by a coalition of Gannic (Gaul) tribes from the Vedrian Mountains that form the northern border of her kingdom. Repelling the invaders requires a massive mobilization of hoplites from her own and her allies’ city-states. Such mobilization isn’t cheap, and a defensive campaign just doesn’t produce the spoils of war that come from an offensive campaign. 

Thus the most practical way to pay for this mobilization is in slaves captured from the invading tribes. And as these tribes were largely migratory, the families of the invading warriors are left vulnerable to the defenders’ retaliation once the warriors are defeated. The following scene is from Zahnia’s perspective and shows the grimmer side of the aftermath of war and conquest. It’s not particularly graphic, but it does show specific examples of captured invaders and their tribes people being enslaved and oppressed by Queen Viarra’s soldiers and allies. To help emphasize that this was considered ‘normal,’ I added in descriptions of kind and otherwise likable and heroic characters taking prisoners to keep for themselves or sell as slaves. Reader discretion for descriptions of ancient-world slavery. 

Covering her mouth with one hand and grasping Elissa’s hand with the other, Zahnia wept with horror as Tollesian soldiers rounded up thousands of Vedrian slaves. 

Across the camp, some of Captain Vola’s cavalry escorted over a hundred captives from whichever tribe they’d raided or demanded reparations from. Despite having once been a slave, Vola laughed and joked with some of the other riders, seemingly nonplussed at the sight of others’ enslavement. 

Zahnia wept as Tapris, the nice hoplite who’d rushed to defend Zahnia and Elissa that night their camp’s defenses were breached, dragged a wailing, brown-haired boy away from his mother or sister. The woman screamed and sobbed, reaching after him as another soldier dragged her in a different direction. 

The Gannic mercenaries and allies in Queen Viarra’s service were no more merciful toward their fellow Vedrians. She overheard a group of warriors debating whether the pregnant woman they’d captured would sell for less money or more money. Across the way, Zahnia saw a fistfight break out between two mercenary spear-warriors over a pair of handsome twin boys. Three hoplites rushed in to break up the fight. 

Meanwhile, two of the observers from the Daughters of Avilee examined a naked, weeping shieldmaiden, still bandaged and recovering from battle injuries. Zahnia looked away when one of them wrapped her arm around the captive and made some kind of joke or innuendo to her companion.

The freedom that these tribespeople were losing and their treatment from their captors threatened to wrench Zahnia’s lunch from her stomach. Since many Tollesians and Venari and other peoples from around the Vestic Sea considered the Gannic paler skin and lighter hair exotic, many of these captives might eventually end up as decorative, household, or harem slaves, Zahnia knew—living trinkets for rich people to show off to their rich friends. Other slaves would end up in brothels, spending every day and night servicing dozens of infantrymen or sailors or nobles or whoever.

Many of the slaves, however, would be forced to work in the quarries, lumber camps, grain fields, or merchant galleys, toiling at back-breaking manual labor until they died from exhaustion or injuries. 

Damn it, it wasn’t their fault that their leaders and warriors had declared war on Queen Viarra. But with many of their leaders and warriors dead or wishing to curtail the queen’s retribution, it was the people who now suffered her soldiers’ wrath. The slavers led away a very pretty, blonde teenaged boy who would probably end up as a catamite in the nobles’ brothels. Zahnia wept for him and for the other slaves. 

The tears and screams dragged up dozens of memories for Zahnia—painful memories of her own enslavement and captivity. They were memories she thought she’d forgotten. She remembered now the raid on her home village. Soldiers from another city-state, she thought they were. Zahnia remembered them now—their shining, steel-tipped spears and their bronze and linen armor. They’d raided houses, murdered resisters, and demanded money and slaves from the village leaders. Zahnia, an orphan, had been given to them without hesitation. 

She could see those men now. She could see them in the hoplites of Queen Viarraluca—hoplites of Zahnia’s beloved queen—now beating and enslaving others just as Zahnia had once been beaten and enslaved. 

“Are you alright, Zahnia?” Elissa asked her. 

Zahnia couldn’t answer, closing her eyes against the tears. Releasing Elissa’s hand, she turned to run. Not caring the direction, Zahnia ran as far and as fast as she could, barely registering Elissa calling her name. Out of the encampment and past the guards and palisades she ran. Tears burned her cheeks as she ran amid the pines, west or southwest of the camp. Deep into the woods she ran, finally collapsing at the foot of a great, tall pine. 

Curling up on her side amid the grass and dirt, Zahnia coughed and sobbed, choking on the memories and the sights and sounds of others’ grief. Gradually, she dragged herself upright, scooting up against the tree trunk. Pulling her legs against her chest, Zahnia continued to weep against her knees. 

Perhaps minutes later, perhaps an hour later, Zahnia heard calm footsteps approaching from the direction of the camp. Based on the length and authority of the stride, she had a pretty good guess who it was. Not looking up, Zahnia pressed her face into her knees. 

“May I sit?” Queen Viarra’s voice spoke from a few feet away. 

“Like I could stop you,” Zahnia bit out, still not looking at her. 

“On the contrary,” her majesty disagreed. “You’re one of very few people whose permission I would ask and one of fewer from whom I would accept such a rejection.”

“I don’t care what you do,” Zahnia muttered. 

The queen paused as if studying her, then stepped closer and sat beside her, armor clinking as she sat back against the tree. 

“Would you like to talk about it?” Queen Viarra offered. 

“Part of me wants to hate you for bringing me here,” Zahnia murmured, eyes still closed and her nose between her knees. “But you gave me a choice to be here. You warned me of how terrible war is and how I’d see things no one should have to and how coming with you would change me forever—and I chose to come anyway. I could have sailed back to Kel Fimmaril with Pella and Naddie and not had to know the sights and sounds and smells of warfare and conquest and enslavement. And... I kind of feel like there’s a part of you that would have preferred that,” she added, opening her eyes as the thought occurred to her. 

“There is indeed a part of me that would have preferred that you returned to Kel Fimmaril to be with your friends,” Queen Viarra agreed. “There are horrors of war that no one should be exposed to, let alone a child. But this was a lesson I realized you’d need eventually as my chronicler, and I’d have stopped you from coming if I didn’t believe you were strong enough to handle it. You’re far too introspective to believe there’s anything good or honorable about any of this—and that is exactly the kind of chronicler I need. I don’t need or want a chronicler to stroke my ego, sing my praises, and to only portray my good side and great deeds. What I need is a chronicler who’s not afraid to disagree with me and not unwilling to portray the darker side of who I must be as queen and hegemon—one who understands the difficult choices I must make and the consequences of those choices.”

“I wish knowing and understanding things better made them easier to deal with,” Zahnia sighed, lifting her head enough to rest her chin on her knees. “I know that King Vedon and his allies started this awful war. I realize that they slaughtered and enslaved the people of Gillespar. I know that he’d do the same thing to our people if he’d won. And I understand that mobilizing our soldiers and allies against him was expensive and that the surest, most practical way to pay for that mobilization is with slaves taken from the invaders. But, gods, I wish there was another way!”

“So do I,” Queen Viarra sighed. “But slavery is how the world works. It plays an irreplaceable role in how resources are gathered, goods are produced, materials are transported, and trade is conducted. If there’s a culture that doesn’t rely heavily on some form of enslavement of others, I’m not aware of it.”

“But you’re–you’re one of the wisest and most powerful rulers on the Vestic Sea,” Zahnia protested, knowing she was grasping at straws. “Surely there’s something you can do to–to–to... to I don’t know. Couldn’t you phase slavery out or discourage it somehow or–or something?”

“How would you suggest I go about accomplishing either of those things?” Queen Viarra asked, sounding both patient and curious. 

“I don’t know,” Zahnia sighed, looking down with defeat. She sniffed, scowling as she rubbed a tear from her eye.

“I’m a powerful monarch reigning over an expanding hegemony, but abolishing an institution that’s older than history itself is a task far beyond even me,” the queen admitted. “Though, I’m honored that you think so highly of my abilities.” Zahnia looked up to see Queen Viarra smiling down at her. 

“Regardless, I’ll never live to see the day when humankind no longer conquers and enslaves its brethren,” her majesty shook her head, leaning back to stare into the distance. “Nor will my children,” she added, “nor will my children’s children, nor the children of my children’s children. Nor perhaps will anyone who can trace their ancestry back to me. But perhaps...” she paused, looking meaningfully down at Zahnia. “But perhaps, dearest Zahnia, you will live to see that day,” she concluded, raising her brows and reaching over to stroke Zahnia’s hair. “And perhaps when you chronicle those events for future generations to learn of, there will be deeds I accomplished and decisions I made within my lifetime that will have led to that day.”

Zahnia pursed her lips as she considered that. 

[ethereal-pluto-blog]

Markus × North Headcanons since I can't find enough of these !! (SFW)

(North is my angry baby I love her so much)

Sure they have some shit to work on to make their bond stronger (especially if you chose pacifist route for Markus) but neither are the type to just drop something without trying.

Markus and North are both leadership oriented, so they both take lessons from each other to improve their ways of leading.

Markus learns to be more assertive in his position, as now the successful leader of the android revolution many try to undermine his authority + take advantage of his position.

North learns to soften up. (With time, of course) Although her normal personality is bold and brash, Markus helps her with dialogue, and that simply wasting rage is a useless way to waste energy and time, saving her from unnecessary trouble.

North is !very! subtle with affection.

Don't get me wrong, she likes being adored, but at the same time she was programmed to constantly give and give and give affection (sexually, working at the Eden Club for clients all the time). So she likes to take things slowly once the revolution relaxes. Doing things at her own pace gives her back control she needs, so it doesn't feel like she's falling back into an obligated position to please someone else.

Markus doesn't mind, he's a patient soul after all.

Whenever Markus gets too stressed out from his Robo-Jesus work, North becomes gentle and lightly whispers praise and encouragement as she gently caresses his neck and shoulders.

It makes him weak trust me 10/10 he melts into a puddle of goo.

If North gets too riled up from anger episodes Markus lightly hums or sings to her.

She immediately shuts up and pretty much forgets what made her so upset in the first place, since damn, his voice is always so.. s o o t h i n g.

The trust in this relationship is outstanding.

Eventually, North opens up more about the abuse, and how she felt used, how eventually it all snapped inside of her to make her go deviant.

Markus always listens to her.

And wipes her tears away when eventually it all becomes too much to unload all at once.

He'll kiss the crown of her forehead, then her lips softly, as he embraces her until she comes back down from her venting episode.

He's a cuddle monster in general so it doesn't bother him when she clings on like a lifeline in these moments, hell he loves being close to her.

North always returns the gesture too.

If he needs to vent she's THERE IN A HEARTBEAT.

She'll always remind him that his frustrations are valid, and the more she listens to him it becomes less "Let's cut his dick off!!" And eventually more "I understand, love, we'll find a way to get through this together. (But if you need me to cut his dick off I'm down baby ily.)"

Their dates would be so sentimental and so cute I cannot.

Their lives are so hectic that it would probably be on the more tame side.

They can't eat so restaurants aren't on the itinerary, but they'd love some at home movie nights, stargazing, going to book stores, exploring hiking trails, going to the beach, and visiting museums.

Speaking of art, of course North inspires some of Markus' works.

He'll often appeal to her likeness with red's, yellow's, and orange's. Perhaps even painting fire around her/ in her heart.

He sees her as a passionate being, like a flame to a forest.

North gets flustered since Markus is so fucking pure, and she's so blushy when thanking him every single time.

She isn't that artistic, but she does try and impress Markus in other ways/ Show appreciation.

She tries many hobbies (keyword, t r i e s), but nothing comes to her until she discovers photography as an option. She takes to it almost immediately.

Her galleries are gorgeous as fuck and of course the full course meal Markus is a part of them. Sometimes she can't exactly vocalize praise or compliments, so catching him in his natural beauty is her fullproof way of showing him that she's honored to be his.

Markus and North also spend a lot of time with their squad.

Markus, Simon, and Josh sometimes have guys night outs. What are they doing you might inquire? Who knows! Literally they'll either be in bible study or committing lowkey arson lmao it's either one or the other.

North is chill since she likes hanging out with her friends from the Eden Club.

North is best friends with the power couple, the Traci's, and they go shopping sometimes for good clothes. They'll also occasionally go visit pet shelters since these girls are soft for fuzzy adorable animals. Lmaodon'ttellMarkus.

They do eventually get pets together as a couple.

They'll probably get a Pit bull and a hedgehog.

The Pit Bull will be tan with blue eyes, named Rosie. The hedgehog is named Oakley.

North wanted Rosie since she's a powerful doggo but also gentle af.

Markus liked Oakley since he could have a lil buddy to rest in his hoodie pocket while he painted.

Carl, although with his condition still not in the best shape, becomes a sort of father figure to North that she didn't know she needed.

She became more involved with caregiving for him after observing Markus do it so easily.

She'll jokingly call him a "crazy old man" but it turns more into "Pops" whenever she greets him.

Carl and North team up to mess with Markus from time to time, and it's fucking HILARIOUS.

Markus is peeved but he's happy his lil family is getting along. ("Guys... s e r i o u s l y where are the paintbrushes??")

Carl also teaches North some valuable insight, stuff that even she can't argue with. She nods thoughtfully and lightly hugs him.

Markus is so proud.

Proud son tears.

Proud significant other tears.

("Markus..?! Babe what's wrong why are you crying??" "Son you alright..?")

They're the most powerful of power couples.

You mess with North you'll have an angry Markus on your hands. Which can be surprisingly more intimidating than North.

You mess with Markus and well...accept your fate I guess lol since North won't hesitate to whoop you to within an inch of your life if you threaten her mans.

Honestly couple goals.

They may have fights from time to time but they become less frequent the more they have discussions afterwards to reconcile their differing personalities and temperaments.

And if you're wondering about marriage yes that's gonna be a thing with these two.

Markus believes marriage is a beautiful union between those in love.

North is skeptical since when presented to her in legal terms she's like: "...So a contract basically?"

Though she does warm up to it since she'll be the Maid of Honor to the Traci's wedding. Seeing their love and bond in a special ceremony helps cease her doubts. (She's not crying you're crying) (But honestly everyone there was a fucking mess after the vows were read but that's another headcanon for another day)

They'll probably accidentally propose at the same time.

(Totally not Carl's secret plan)

Literally they'll both kneel down and be like ???

They both had rings.

It was fucking hilarious.

They both had planned on proposing at the first place they met, at Jericho.

It was a shock to both of them.

Somehow Simon, Josh, and Lucy knew it was going to happen so they were spying on the couple and they were WEAK AS SHIT!!

When they do get married though it's going to be a fairly large ceremony. (Since every fucking android and android supporter from across the nation wanted to be there for the headline breaking wedding of the century)

Markus' groomsmen are going to include Simon as his best man, Connor, Luther, Carl, and surprisingly Leo too.

North's bridesmaids are going to include Lucy as her Maid of Honor, the Traci's, Kara, and Chloe.

Josh is going to be ordained for this occasion (seeing as he's the only emotionally stable one during this high stakes event)

Alice is going to be the ring bearer fucking fight me on this.

North is also walked down the isle by Carl since he's basically become her dad at this point since she's known him for years.

Everyone is going to be emotional.

I mean everyone.

Markus almost shuts down a few times.

North is just perpetual tears and happiness.

Now they're officially joined together as Mr. Markus Manfred and Mrs. North Manfred.

You bet your entire ass they're getting kids.

It's gonna be blended.

Some android some human.

Probably get around 3-5 kids.

All adopted obviously.

Markus is soft huggy calm dad.

North is strong momma.

People who thought that their relationship wasn't going to work are now eating their hats.

Honestly they're so in love and devoted to each other that nothing can separate them now.

I love these dorks so much can't you tell? :')

Anyways yeah here's my contribution to this ship that I really like so :')

Probably not going to be a fanfiction blog but who knows I might pop more of these out whenever I have motivation to do so. This was kinda fun to do. Hope whoever reads this enjoys! !

[threemoonsareshining]

hey i can’t sleep it’s 1am and i’m too out of it to pick i can’t properly express how much i love reading your answers so just answer any / all of those fruit asks i know i said that last time but time is a lie and you’re a cool person yeet

Hi! Oh my god it’s me the one who can’t properly express how much I like getting your asks, and how weird it feels when someone tells you that they like your answers (I still don’t get how you find my ramblings interesting!), but I actually find writing them quite liberating, and it helps me practice my writing skills in English even though they’re not very good! Ok, so you ask for it, here are some long-ass answers

peach: do you have any piercings or tattoos? No! I just had my ears pierced when I was a baby and I wear normal earrings. I don’t really want any kind of piercings because I find them soo unnecessary (for me personally), I don’t see the use in involuntarily mutilating my body you know (I hate needles). I don’t have tattoos either, and I’d like to get one someday, just something tiny and pretty, but then again we encounter the problem of needles…….

raspberry: favorite flower? I honestly love all kinds of flowers but I really like… orchids for example, and when I was little I used to be obsessed with wildflowers (I made bouquets all the time) and now every once in a while I go out to my garden and pick flowers so i can press them in a book and then stick them to an empty notebook (so cliche I know) but I just think they look so so nice.

passion fruit: how would you describe your style? Mmmm I don’t really know if I have a style, I’m really basic tbh. I wear simple clothing but somehow I always manage to differentiate myself from the rest, sometimes without even trying. Like, when I go shopping I get really annoyed because 90% of the shops in every mall are owned by the same company (Inditex) and want it or not, they always end up selling the same stuff, because it’s what everybody is wearing and they sell more you know, but I hate wearing That Exact Garment That Everyone Is Wearing This Season, unless I really really like it. But most of the time I just stick to a simple style, with plain colors, although now I’m trying to broaden my horizons and feel a little bit more comfortable showing a little more skin, which I don’t always like but I’m trying you know.

pineapple: sexual orientation? Ah, the eternal question. I’m honestly not sure. I spent a lot of time believing I was ace, I have always been “mocked” for my lack of sexual behaviours. When I was in middle school people thought it was because I was  a lesbian, but I gave it a lot of thought and I arrived at the conclusion that I wasn’t, I just didn’t have attraction towards anyone, which apparently people find completely incomprehensible. But this last year I’ve experienced some situations that have made me realise I might not be 100% ace, but it’s weird because I don’t think those feelings were towards anyone in particular, so I’m pretty confused. What I have more or less clear so far is that I need a lot of trust, and when I say a lot I mean a lot, like I need to “click” with that person in a special way so I am capable of feeling the minimum sexual desire, or at least to feel comfortable enough to engage in some kind of physical contact (even kissing, like, last year I couldn’t even stand people touching my arm, so yeah all kinds of physical contact are kind of big deal to me, specially with the opposite sex, idk why), and even then it doesn’t always happen. I still have a lot to figure out, but I’m not really stressed about it, right now I’m pretty much craving some human contact (this sounds contradictory to what I wrote above, I just think I avoid physical contact because I don’t really know how to react to those situations) and hopefully I’ll get it tomorrow, even if it’s from someone that hasn't been really been really nice to me

strawberry: favorite desserts? Always ice cream, or any of the cakes that my mom bakes because they are all delicious.

cherry: can you play any musical instruments or can you sing? I used to take violin lessons and I self-taught a little of piano, but last year I didn’t have time to do anything and I ended up dropping everything art-related, which pretty much killed my soul. Giving up violin was to be expected, since it was never my passion, it felt more like an obligation because my parents pressured me a lot, and by doing that I refused to practice as much as I should so I never got to see much progress and I got stuck, while the rest of my mates kept getting better and better, which discouraged me even more. With piano, I enjoy a lot playing the little I know, and I’ve composed some themes (without any actual academic knowledge of music of course) but I think they sounded pretty good given that I came up with them with 14 years old or so. Right now I have some themes in mind (it’s amazing because I came up with them like 4 years ago and I still haven’t forgotten them, which is dangerous because I haven’t written or recorded them…). Regarding singing, I like to do it (as I type this I’m performing Africa by Toto with my heart and soul and I bet my neighbour wants to kill me right now) but I’m too shy to sing in front of people, even though I’ve been told I’m good at it (my voice isn’t strong at all btw). I’ve just performed alone in public once and I still don’t know how I managed to do it without having a nervous breakdown. Anyways, yesterday I was home alone and I started singing while doing my hair and I was surprised by myself like “woah bitch when did you learn to do that with your voice” and it was a nice feeling.

banana: favorite horror movies? Mmmmm I’m not a fan of horror movies, I’ve only started to watch some this year. For example, the only horror movie I’ve seen in an actual cinema was A quiet place, and it wasn’t even that scary, but I really liked it. I’ve also seen The Others and The Shining, which were also pretty scary for me hahah

blackberry: is your life an action film, a comedy, a romantic comedy, or drama? My life is one of those pretentious indie European drama movies in which nothing happens, except it’s not aesthetically pleasing

pomegranate: when do you feel the most confident? The other day I was wearing a clean pyjama and I was freshly shaven and honestly, I had the confidence to kill a man.

guava: dark & dramatic makeup or natural makeup? I’m trying to perfect the art of achieving a natural makeup that actually looks natural, but problem: I’m bad at it and I don’t have the right products to do it.

tangelo: if you could be any mythical creature, which would you be? I’d be a dryad, an elf or something that lives in the forest, nothing like a mermaid or a creature that lives in the water because I’m afraid of it, just let be me eaten by the moss please and thank you

papaya: what song describes your aesthetic? I’ve said it like 461654 times but Plant Life by Owl City is me, like, if that song was a person, it would be me.

cranberry: favorite time of the day; morning, afternoon, dusk, or night? I love the night because it feels like time stops. If I’m alone, I don’t feel judged because there’s no one else to see me, I can just enjoy the world when everything’s quiet and if I stay awake till dawn I get to see how the world wakes up which is also really nice. I also like the night when I’m with people, I can’t describe the feeling, like, when I breathe deeply, I feel some butterflies in my stomach (sometimes it’s the anxiety and I want to end my suffering right there but other times it’s like a nice way of feeling excited), just being surrounded by people... it gives me a weird feeling (my way of expressing this is so shitty i’m sorry)

nectarine: would you consider yourself an emotional person? I’ve always been known for being stone cold and emotionless, but actually I am Very Sensitive, everything affects me, even if I’m not the target of it (I would get really upset at school when my classmates were mean to teachers because I felt so so so so bad for them and my mom told me like “but the haven0t done anything to you!” and I’m like I know but my soul is in pain what can I do). Despite this, I never cried once at school, I just let it all out when I got home (I would cry a lot outside), and that’s why everyone thought I had no feelings, when actually I had a lot of them, too many, I just got really really good at hiding them. This is now a problem since I find myself incapable of expressing my feelings to other people. I’m good at rationalising them to myself, I can distance myself from my own perspective and think “You’re feeling this because of that”, but there’s a difference between being able to acknowledge your feelings objectively and actually having the capability to control them, or change them (that’s why they’re feelings, they’re the opposite of “objective” and they can’t just be turned off whenever you want). This is the reason why it’s so exhausting to be concealing them all the time like I do or not even that, just trying to canalise negative feelings instead of avoiding them can be really hard. So yeah, to sum up, I’m very emotional, but I’d like to believe I’m very self-aware so I can find some kind of balance.

orange: do you have long eyelashes? I actually do, but only because I apply ricin oil every night before bed. I did it just to give it a try but my lashes are now not only longer, but also denser (I have lots of new hairs popping out, it’s very nice to see). I do it because I hate wearing mascara, and I want them to look fuller without having to apply anything.

apricot: what do you do when you’re sad? When I’m very very sad I just get this sinking feeling in my chest, which I can’t express with words how much I hate it, it reminds me of all the times I’ve gotten that feeling in my life and makes me feel completely miserable. When I feel like that, there’s literally nothing else I can do but lie feeling just kind of paralyzed. I often try to watch a tv show, and even though I can’t concentrate on it and I’ll probably end up having to rewatch that episode, it distracts me a little. I also play music, but it sometimes makes it even worse. Lately, when I feel really down, or anxious (specifically anxiety over things I know are stupid and no big deal, but things that my brain decides to worry about anyway), I end up cleaning something very thoroughly, like my bedroom or bathroom while listening to some playlist with mainstream songs that I know the lyrics to but that I’m not emotionally attached to so I can keep my mind busy until lunchtime or until I have to go out.

star fruit: favorite sea creature? I used to be obsessed, and when I said obsessed I mean obsessed with whales, specifically beluga whales. I have a stuffed beluga toy, a beluga notebook and I still have the picture of a beluga hung on my wall (it’s not big I swear it’s not that bad now). I also made my mom tell my tales about belugas for like 6 or 7 years every single night (I can’t remember when exactly she stopped doing it but I can tell you I was old enough to feel really, really ashamed of it if anyone found out about it), now I feel sorry for her because it must had been a really big effort for her… I was obsessed with dolphins as well, I remember crying while watching dolphin documentaries on tv because I wanted one so bad and my parents tried to explain me that that was just… not possible. Oh I also have those figurines that glow in the dark with whale shapes (you know those stars that are on the ceiling of kids’ rooms? well just like that but with whales, I still have them)

dragonfruit: do you drink alcohol? I do, and I know it’s really unhealthy but I mean… besides that I’m a pretty healthy girl, I don’t smoke, I don’t eat processed foods and I work out every once in a while… you gotta live a little. And it’s also nothing like drinking every day or anything, it’s just that when I go out with friends I drink, heavily, but I still know when to stop (I’ve only gone overboard like… twice, and it was nothing serious, like, you end up getting all your dinner out and with a terrible hangover the next day). It’s funny because when I’m drunk and my head is spinning, I can still see myself trying to rationalise everything and i have some principles as a drunk girl: 1. Watch your step as gracefully as you can 2. Be nice and try to help everyone, stranger or not 3. Pick up the things you drop on the ground because the environment is still in danger 4. If someone needs to go to pee, especially if it’s one of your girlfriends, don’t let them go alone. It’s actually a little sad because one of the main reasons why I drink at parties it’s because I get really anxious in social situations, and it helps me feel a little less self-conscious, but lately it doesn’t do the trick, and I just stare into space and my mind goes blank every time someone talks to me, and them feeling terrible about my lack of social skills… I should fix that

This was really nice to write, it kept me busy for a while, just what I needed. I don’t know if you go through all of it but hey at least it helped me!

Have a nice nice day!!! 🍃🍃🍃🍂🍂🍂

[captain-zajjy]

Solstice, Chapter 29 - A Final Fantasy XV Story

Pairing: Ignis x Female Original Character

AO3 | Chapter 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28

A/N: FINALLY hitting the character moment for Ignis that I envisioned when creating this story way back when. I hope it works for you :)

Ignis had wanted to prepare a large breakfast using a few things he’d been saving for a special occasion, but Valeria insisted he do not waste them on her father’s account. So, he served their usual morning meal of dry toast with the thinnest smear of berry preserves. Before Ignis could apologize for the paltry spread, Mr. Soleil smacked his lips and let out a long, contented sigh.

“That sure hit the spot.” He even sounded like he meant it.

“I- it did?” Ignis blurted out.

“Couldn’t even tell you the last time I had bread, to be honest,” Mr. Soleil said. “All they had at Galdin was fish, fish, and more fish.”

After finishing his own toast, Ignis immediately went to the refrigerator and replaced the fish filet he’d set out to thaw with what remained of a behemoth steak Gladio had brought him weeks ago. It was barely enough for two people, let alone three, but Ignis had high hopes that a bit of red meat, however small, would go a long way in impressing the man. Valeria might not have cared what her father thought, but he certainly did.

And so, when Valeria left the two of them to have her first shooting lesson with Prompto, and Mr. Soleil asked Ignis if he’d like to accompany him on a stroll around the market, Ignis was left with a dilemma.

He desperately wanted to show her father that he was capable, that he wasn’t a burden to whom Valeria had to constantly play nursemaid. On the other hand, Ignis still struggled with the cacophony of the market; he hadn’t gone by himself since Valeria had joined him in Lestallum. Have I become too dependent on her? Even if he could manage by himself, short of forcing the man to wear some sort of bell, it would be impossible for Ignis to keep track of Mr. Soleil in the crowd.

Putting his pride aside, Ignis nodded. “I shall join you.” He wanted to spend time with this man, the father of the woman he loved, get to know him and, Gods willing, obtain his approval.

Ignis donned his gloves and took up his cane, easily following behind Mr. Soleil in the familiar confines of the apartment building.

When the stink of the city streets assailed his nostrils, Ignis cleared his throat and stuck out his hand, moving it up Mr. Soleil’s back to grip his shoulder.

“If it’s not too much of a bother…”

He felt Mr. Soleil shrug in response. “Not using that shoulder for much, anyway.” His body was tense at first, as it always went with people guiding Ignis for the first time, but quickly relaxed when it became apparent that the only thing Ignis required of him was to proceed as he normally would.

“I can usually manage on my own,” Ignis heard himself say. “It’s just that with the crowds and maze of the market, it’s difficult to keep track of one’s companion, and I believe Valeria would be very cross with me if I lost her father on his second day, so I-” He knew he was babbling, and clamped his mouth shut. “I very much appreciate the assistance.”

Again, Mr. Soleil shrugged. “Not a problem, son.” Did he really not care? He certainly sounded indifferent, but Ignis felt that old specter of self-doubt rear its ugly head once more. Was he not thinking, ‘this is what my daughter has to put up with every day?’ Blast you, Ignis said to the intrusive thoughts.

“So tell me - how does a son of Tenebrae come to serve the Lucian crown?” Mr. Soleil asked as they set out down the street.

It was a question Ignis had been asked many times before. “I was a small child when I immigrated to Lucis,” he explained. “It’s the only home I’ve ever known.”

“So you got out of Tenebrae before the Niffs moved in, huh?”

Ignis nodded. “Had I not, I suspect I would have perished during the Empire’s Purges.” That had always struck him as the bitterest irony: he was alive today because his parents had died then, before the Empire had taken the country and eradicated the ruling class.

“Blue blood, eh?” Mr. Soleil asked.

“A minor noble house,” Ignis admitted. “And now, a nonexistent one, since the Empire abolished all titles and seized all holdings.�� He knew he ought to feel some kind of sadness when speaking of the fate of the country where he was born, but, in truth, he felt very little. His uncle had said nothing when the news broke back on that fateful day over a decade ago, but had appeared ashen-faced, cleaning their already-tidy apartment in an aimless, mechanical way, like the walking dead. Ignis had not been able to understand, not until another fateful day in the near-past, when Insomnia was taken.

“Damn,” Mr. Soleil muttered. “They even killed the kids?”

“Root and stem.” There was a logic in that - cold and cruel, as logic often was - and part of Ignis loathed himself for being able to see it.

“Did you like your job?”

Such a simple question, and yet it nearly knocked Ignis off his feet. Did I... like it? It was his duty; his personal feelings were irrelevant. And yet, here was someone asking, by all appearances in earnest.

“It...it was my whole world. For better or for worse.” Ignis knew that wasn’t an answer, but it was the best he could come up with.

Of course he liked it. Everytime Noctis asked for his counsel and heeded it, he liked it. Every time King Regis had favored him with an approving nod for a task completed, he liked it. Every time he did something that, in its own small, insignificant way benefited the people of Lucis, he liked it.

And he loathed it. Noct’s apartment covered in trash, the calls just as he’d finally settled into bed, the disparaging looks from the Lucian uppercrust at the foreigner who’d been chosen over their own flesh and blood to serve the Prince. At least he wouldn’t have to suffer that last one any longer.

“Never been one to hold down a job for long, myself,” Mr. Soleil said. “I know, I know - try to contain your surprise.” Now that they were in the thick of the market, he frequently stopped and paused, humming tunelessly to himself.

“May I ask what you’re shopping for?” Ignis asked.

“You can, but I ain’t gonna tell ya. It’s a surprise.”

Ignis frowned. “I believe Valeria will be rather vexed by a ‘surprise.’”

“Oh, yeah,” Mr. Soleil replied, flippant. “And this way, you can tell her you didn’t know anything about it.” He clapped Ignis on the back. “Just looking out for you, son. I know she can be nasty when she’s mad.”

Well, yes . Ignis knew better than to agree with him out loud.

“Still, not half as bad as her mother,” Mr. Soleil added offhandedly with a low whistle. “That woman, Gods rest her soul, could punch you in the gut, then kick you in the balls with a single sentence.”

Ignis lowered his voice. “You have my condolences on your loss.”

“We all lost something that day.” Ignis surmised that, glib as he was, Mr. Soleil’s former wife was an understandably sensitive subject.

“Indeed.” We all lost something....starting with our innocence.

“You’re probably wondering how someone like her ended up with someone like me.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to pry…” But, yes. Ignis had wondered that from the moment he’d met the man all those years ago.

“Yeah, me too, kid. Me too. Ol’ Viv sure was a piece of work. Ambitious, smart as a whip - I didn’t mind living in her shadow - that was alright.” He cleared his throat. “Once the company started getting real big she changed - or maybe that was who she really was all along. Hell, I don’t know. I just couldn’t take being treated like one of her damn employees, you know? But, she was the mother of my child. And for that, Vivienne will always be important to me.”

Mr. Soleil stopped abruptly. “Ohh,” he said. “Here’s what I’m talking about.” Ignis sidled alongside the older man as he chatted with the vendor, trying to make himself less obtrusive to the aimless throng of passers-by. He didn’t think many people actually did much shopping anymore - the market was simply a place to go, to idle away the hours until one’s next paltry meal, to stave off the overwhelming sense of loneliness and hopelessness that pervaded the city’s population.

“Barter only,” the vendor said off to Ignis’s left, as something metallic clinked on the counter. “Don’t have any use for money these days.”

“A wise man,” Mr. Soleil crooned. “But this isn’t gil. This here’s ancient Solheim money, genuine, one hundred percent silver.”

“Don’t have much use for silver either.”

“Oh, but you will!” Mr. Soleil’s voice radiated confidence, assurance. “Silver’s an investment in your future. When all this is over, who knows what the gil will be worth, if anything. But silver? Always worth something! Way more than just these few things here.”

Ignis heard something rattle as it slid across the counter.

“Hmm…” the vendor responded.

“Alright, alright. You’ve got me.” Another coin clinked as it was set down. “Double or nothing.”

“Fine,” the vendor relented. Ignis tried not to chuckle at how thoroughly the man had been foxed.

“Thanks for doing business, my man.” There was the rustling sound of a paper bag, and then Mr. Soleil gave Ignis a nudge. Ignis placed his hand back on the man’s shoulder and they continued on their way.

“A silver tongue runs in the family, I see,” Ignis mused.

“Heh, well...I ain’t good at much - or anything, really. Just talking to people.”

“An extremely valuable skill, under any circumstances.”

“Eh. I guess.” Mr. Soleil paused. “Hey. Isn’t that my daughter’s necklace?”

“Oh.” Ignis resisted the urge to bring his hand up to the chain around his throat. “Well, I...she, er, gave it to me.”

“Ohhh.” The sing-songy way Mr. Soleil crooned reminded Ignis of Prompto. At least he isn’t angry. “You two go way back, then?”

“Since the Academy. First year.”

“That’s a good thing to have these days. Someone you know you can trust, that ain’t gonna go up and bonkers on you.”

“Indeed.” Ignis nodded, ruminating on just how fortunate he’d been in that regard. Not only did he have Valeria, but the Amicitias, Prompto, the Marshal - all people he’d known for years, people whose intentions he never had to second-guess.

With his shopping concluded, Ignis took Mr. Soleil to pick up his ration vouchers, explaining how Valeria had played a pivotal role in establishing the food bank that now fed the entire city. On the way home, they stopped somewhere - Ignis wasn’t entirely sure where, exactly - to sit on a curb and ‘people watch,’ which seemed like it would be terribly depressing, but since Mr. Soleil was apparently quite keen on it, Ignis went along.

Since he obviously could not watch the passersby, Ignis instead worked on drumming up the bravery to ask a very important question.

“Sir, I…” Ignis plucked at his collar, nerves suddenly causing his stomach to churn. “I would like to ask your permission to court your daughter.”

Mr. Soleil let out a hearty guffaw, and Ignis’s dark thoughts immediately began to swirl. Is that really such a laughable request? Have I read him all wrong?

“Damn, kid. You really are old-fashioned, aren’t you?”

“Er-”

Mr. Soleil clapped a hand on Ignis’s shoulder. “Here’s some advice - typically, you wanna ask that question before sharing a bed with the lady in question.” Ignis felt his face flush hot, stammering out something that was half-apology and half-explanation, making very little sense.

“You’re both adults,” Mr. Soleil went on, still chuckling. “Only person’s permission you need is hers. Besides, it ain’t like she ever cared what I thought before.”

“I care,” Ignis asserted, despite his embarrassment. He knew her mother never would have approved, and even less so now. But there was still hope for her father.

Mr. Soleil’s laughter tapered off into a lengthy silence. “Huh,” he finally said, sounding more surprised than amused. “You sure are an odd one. But if you want my blessing or whatever, then okay. I know people, and I can tell you’re one of the good ones. Odd, but good.”

Ignis felt relief flooding his limbs and warmth filling his chest. Good. A good person . He’d never really thought of himself as such; he was just someone who had the fortune to serve good masters.

“Er...thank you, sir. Thank you.”

Although Valeria had serious reservations about leaving Ignis alone with her father, it wasn’t in her nature to break off an appointment at the last minute, especially when Prompto had so generously offered his time and expertise, asking for nothing in return. Before leaving, Ignis had reminded her that he was able to advocate for himself - his very polite way of telling her to back off.

Valeria sighed as she made her way to the high school. What was the worst her father could really do to Ignis? Make a cruel joke at his expense? Maybe she was just projecting her own fears onto him. Because her father had hurt her, cut her down to the core, and he could absolutely do it again - if she let him. I’m not a little girl anymore, she reminded herself. I don’t need him anymore. What a lie that was.

Fortunately, Prompto provided a welcome distraction. “No Iggy?” he asked after greeting her.

“He’s entertaining a guest,” she replied, praying Prompto didn’t nose into the matter further. He whistled, but let it go, and she followed him to the school’s gymnasium.

“Got the place to ourselves for the next hour,” he said. Toward the back of the large room, a human-sized target had been strung up on a crude pulley system between the basketball hoops. Upon further inspection, she saw that the target was a photograph of an older man, blown up to life-size, its subject sporting auburn hair, a striped scarf, and a sickeningly smug grin.

“Ardyn,” Prompto explained, his usual sunny disposition suddenly uncharacteristically dark.

It took Valiera a moment to place the name. “The Imperial Chancellor.”

“Uh-huh.” Prompto had turned his attention to loading his special rubber bullets into a small revolver.

She turned back to the photo. “This guy is the Chancellor? He looks like a bum.” He wasn’t wearing a uniform, not even a badge of office.

“He is a bum. And a lot of other words Iggy says I shouldn’t say in front of a lady. So-” Prompto handed her the gun, then took a step behind her. “Put a couple between his eyes for me, will you?”

Valeria turned the weapon over in her hands and exhaled deeply, trying to recall what she’d been taught back in high school. Target shooting, along with archery and fencing, had been part of the physical education curriculum, not to train future soldiers or even for self-defense, but because, for Insomnia’s elite, such things were - or had been - considered leisure activities, sport, a way to pass the hours when you had no real obligations on your time.

She raised the gun, both hands on the grip, and took aim at the Chancellor’s forehead. After taking a few moments to calm herself, she squeezed the trigger. The noise and the recoil startled her, jerking her arms backward. After composing herself, Valeria turned toward the target, noting a small hole along the man’s hairline. Okay, not exactly between the eyes.

Valeria shook her head, let her heart rate come down, this time aiming lower. By the time the six rounds were spent, she had decent grouping in the target’s face.

“Hey, that’s pretty good!” Prompto handed her six more rounds, which she loaded much slower and more clumsily than he had. When she looked up, Prompto was behind her near the basketball hoop, tugging on a string.

“How about a moving target?” The cut out of the Chancellor danced along the rope as Prompto pulled it. Oh Gods …

Valeria tried to track the movement with the barrel of the gun, but her first two shots missed the target entirely. Then she tried leading it, but went too far, ending up with only two of the six shots hitting the Chancellor at all - in the side of his arm.

“Well, you winged him.” Prompto gave her an encouraging smile and handed over more rounds. They repeated this until his supply of rubber bullets was spent, and Valeria stared at the target in frustration as Prompto gathered up the spent casings and rounds to be reused. In all of that shooting, she’d hit the target in the chest exactly once, and the majority of her shots had missed it entirely.

“I’m terrible at this,” she said with disgust. There were few things she hated more than failure.

“What?” Prompto said. “It was your first time!”

“Yeah.” Valeria gestured at the target. “And I’m terrible.”

“Oh, come on. Nobody’s good at stuff their first time.”

I am, she thought. And if I’m not, I don’t do it again.

“You’re too tense.” Prompto pointed at the target, encouraging her to take aim with the unloaded gun. “See, your shoulders are up at your ears. Just relax.”

“How am I supposed to relax if this thing were trying to kill me?”

Prompto chuckled. “Just like Iggy. Overthinking everything. You just gotta keep practicing.”

Valeria handed the gun back over with a deep frown. “Thanks, Prompto. Sorry I’m such a crappy pupil.”

“Bah.” Prompto threw up his hands. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. Hey, you wanna see something cool I’ve been working on?”

“Okay,” she said slowly, wondering just what she might be getting herself into.

Prompto led her to a small classroom on the second floor. Most of the student desks had been removed or pushed aside, the teacher’s desk and floor were littered with an assortment of wires and electronics.

“Just gimme a sec to get it set up.” As Prompto scuttled about, Valeria turned toward the front of the classroom. Someone (likely Prompto) had drawn a chocobo pecking at a stick figure whose hair was reminiscent of Prince Noctis on the chalkboard.

Next to that was a bulletin board, the border of which was decorated with a colorful pattern made from layered construction paper and a various shapes of a hole punch. If something had been hanging there before, Prompto must’ve taken it down, and replaced it with photos that had to have been taken while he and the others had been on the road for Prince Noctis’s wedding.

Some were posed, many were candid, and Valeria was struck by just how content they all looked in one another’s company. A shot of all four of them with their car at Hammerhead Garage, Gladio leaning on Noctis outside of a diner, Ignis sitting by a campfire drinking his coffee. She knew that while these photos were taken she had been stuck in Insomnia, frightened and hurt, still reeling from the loss of her mother, but Valeria didn’t begrudge them their tranquility here. She was glad Ignis and the others had been able to have this time and these experiences together, knowing what misery the world had in store for them later.

“Those were the best times of my life,” Prompto said, standing next to her, looking at his photos with a faraway smile. “Sometimes I still can’t believe they let me tag along.”

Valeria tore her gaze away from the photo of Ignis and turned to him. “Is that why you joined the Crownsguard? Adventure?”

“Nah,” Prompto replied. “Noct’s my best friend. A job that’s basically just hanging out with him all the time? It seemed too good to be true, but it wasn’t.”

“It must be hard for you now.”

Prompto shrugged. “He’s gonna come back. Until then…” He gestured at the photographs. “And I’ve started tinkering with things to keep myself busy. Check this out.”

Prompto had cleared the teacher’s desk, leaving only two rectangular lights the size of her fist, crudely linked together with electrical tape, wires spilling out the back and hooked to a pair of large batteries.

“Are those...flashes? Like, for a camera?”

“Yup!” Prompto replied. “Studio grade. Super bright. My first idea was to convert them to something like a flashlight, but it drained the battery way too fast. So, I slowed down the timing on the flash so that it fires for a couple of seconds, instead of like, half of one. It still needs some tuning, but right now I can get about five shots out of one battery.”

“Huh.” Valeria took a closer look at the device. “For daemons?”

“Yep. Got the idea after we fought that monster one back at the Fort. A few seconds of light probably won’t kill the big guys, but it should mess ‘em up pretty good.”

Valeria imagined it was similar to dousing someone in boiling water - even if it cooled right away, the damage was already done. “So, you won’t have to be Gladiolus to finish them off.”

Prompto snapped his fingers. “Exactly. Here, let me show you.” She joined Prompto behind the desk, and he leaned forward to flip the switch. “Uh, you might want to cover your eyes.”

“Then how can I see how it works?”

“Just sayin.” With one hand over his eyes - and his face turned away - he flipped the switch. The room instantly filled with brilliant white light, so bright she felt it searing through her eyes and right into her brain. Valeria shrieked and brought her hands up to her face, but it was too late. Her vision swam with white and yellow and violet starbursts, her head throbbed, and she clung to the desk to keep herself upright.

“Gods, Prompto!”

“I warned you!” he said. “But...it’s pretty cool, right?”

Valeria rubbed at her eyes. Splotches of the classroom began to return here and there, but her vision still swam with the blinding light. “I think that ought to do it. Stars above,” she muttered. She was still seeing them. “Don’t you think you should have safety glasses or something if you’re going to work on this stuff?”

“What, like goggles?”

Valeria sighed, wiping her watering eyes. “Goggles, sure. They make them like normal glasses too - or, they used to anyway. You seriously work on electronics without any safety gear?”

“I like to wing it,” he replied with a grin. How are you even still alive ? “I think I might have put some gloves or something in the desk.”

Shaking her head, Valeria began to rifle through the drawers. She found a large amount of school supplies - markers, glue, paper punches in various shapes - and eventually pulled out a clunky pair of clear goggles missing the strap.

“I’ll take this stuff to the market,” she said, putting the things in her jacket pockets. “See if I can’t trade it for some actual safety gear.” Now that she was finally able to see clearly again, she favored Prompto with a smile. “This is a really good idea, Prompto.”

“Oh, well…” He rubbed a hand over his reddening neck. “Just messing around, really.”

“I’m serious. This can save lives. Just... don’t hurt yourself in the process, okay?”

Valeria returned home to find Ignis in the kitchen and her father in the window sill, the top half of his body concealed behind the blinds. Before she could even ask, Ignis greeted her.

“Welcome back, my dear. How was your lesson?”

“It was...not good,” she admitted, never taking her eyes from her father. The only thing worse than being bad at something was having to admit she was bad at something.

As Ignis began to offer some words of encouragement, her father chuckled and hopped out of the window. “So, what - you miss the target once or twice?”

“A lot more than twice. What the hell are you doing?”

“I asked several times,” Ignis said from the kitchen. “He wouldn’t say.”

“Yeah, so don’t yell at him.”

Valeria crossed her arms over her chest. “Just tell me.”

“This, pumpkin - this here is a gold mine.” Her father pulled up the blinds and lifted a terracotta pot almost reverently. A small lamp had been placed next to it on the sill, which she immediately identified as a UV lamp meant to mimic the lost light of the sun.

“A planter?” Valeria asked skeptically.

“Seeds.” Her father poked his finger into the soft soil filling the pot. “Tobacco.”

“Tobacco?” She let out a noise of disgust. “Really, Dad? Not food?”

“Alas.” Ignis let out a crestfallen sigh. “What I wouldn’t give for some fresh herbs…”

“Not half as what the nicotine addicts will pay when the cigarettes run out,” her father quipped, a shit-eating grin on his face. Just another one of his idiotic schemes.

“Like you’re not going to keep it all for yourself,” Valeria muttered.

“Well…” Her father winked. “You never know. Might be room for another pot or two here, too. As you’ll see,” he made an exaggerated demonstrative gesture, “everything’s tucked away, nothing underfoot. You won’t even notice it’s here.”

Except for the ridiculously bright lamp, Valeria thought with a frown, although she knew her father wasn’t really referring to her. All the things he’d acquired, even the bag of potting soil, were gathered on the window sill, and the cord of the lamp had been taped against the wall - an eyesore, but not a tripping hazard, and that was all she really cared about.

With no real reason to chastise her father further, Valeria was forced to relent. After he finished raving about their afternoon meal, she told both men about Prompto’s invention - and his apparent lack of safety concerns. The three of them spent the rest of the evening listening to the radio; Valeria and Ignis were beyond sick of the reruns, but her father laughed at every joke.

That night, laying in bed, she shamelessly watched as Ignis undressed, feeling her pulse quicken as the broad muscles in his shoulders and back worked and rippled as he moved. She remembered back in high school when she’d first noticed his shoulders and chest getting wider, noticed just how much taller he was becoming relative to her, and the multitude of strange, confusing feelings that accompanied those observations, feelings she had kept deep inside for so long. And now, if it hadn’t been for her damned father, already sound asleep and snoring a few feet away on the couch, she could have acted upon those feelings at long last.

Valeria couldn’t help her disappointment when Ignis covered his bare torso with a thin undershirt and crawled into bed alongside her. Swallowing all those things down, as she had time and again, she rolled onto her side, facing Ignis as he laid down on his back.

“Okay,” she began, her voice low. “Tell me how it really was being stuck with him all day.”

Ignis’s lips parted in concern. “Your father,” he whispered. “He’s...he’s right there.”

“Can’t you hear him snoring? He’s not going to wake up unless we start shouting. Trust me.”

“I suppose ‘snoring’ is relative, but if you say so,” Ignis muttered. “It was a perfectly pleasant day. Truly.”

Valeria’s eyebrows shot up. “Seriously?” She studied Ignis’s face, striped by soft orange light that filtered in through the slats in the blinds. He didn’t look like he was lying. “He didn’t call you names and do everything in his power to embarass you?”

“He can be a bit crass,” Ignis admitted. “But there’s no malice in it. Don’t you think you’re being a bit hard on him?”

Valeria frowned. “He left me. He abandoned me.”

“I’m not saying he hasn’t made mistakes in the past,” Ignis said, shifting so that he could wrap an arm around her back. “But given all that’s happened in the last year, I consider it a small miracle not only that you’re both alive, but have managed to find one another here.”

Valeria bit her lip. She knew he was right. “It scares me,” she admitted.

Ignis reached out with his other hand to stroke her cheek. “Why?”

“Because he hurt me. And I...if I let him in, what if he does it again?”

Ignis let out a knowing sigh and pulled her close. “You are strong. I suspect you can handle just about anything this world will throw at you. I admit I don’t know him well, but I believe he cares for you. I really do.” Valeria felt her lip begin to tremble and buried her face into Ignis’s neck. “Oh… Have I upset you?” He ran his fingers through her hair.

“It’s just a lot,” she said, managing to keep herself from crying. Valeria didn’t even fully understand all the overwhelming emotional baggage that accompanied the topic of her father, let alone possess the ability to articulate it. “I…” She’d already forced herself to face daemons - was her father really so frightening? “Okay, Iggy. I’ll try. But old habits might be kind of hard to break.”

“Ah,” he said after planting a soft kiss on her temple. “They really are, aren’t they? Even so, I’d daresay that if anyone can do it, it’s you.”

Valeria snorted. “I think your opinion of me is a little inflated, but thanks.”

Ignis smiled as they fell silent, appreciating the quiet comfort of each other’s company. After a while, he spoke. “Am I really your boyfriend now?”

Valeria couldn’t help but laugh. “That didn’t get past you, huh?”

“Few things do,” he replied with a smirk.

“Well…” Valeria nuzzled her head into his chest. “Of course you are - if you want to be. I love you. I’ve always loved you.”

Perhaps such an admission should have been accompanied by embarrassment, or apprehension that her feelings wouldn’t be reciprocated, but for Valeria, it was simply stating a fact. There was nothing to fear, because she knew Ignis felt the same. She turned her head to see him swallowing hard, adam’s apple bobbing at his throat.

“That is…” Ignis’s voice was trembling, and she could feel his heart pounding in his chest. The last thing she had expected was to distress him.

Valeria propped herself up on an elbow to get a better look at his face. “What is it?”

“I…” Ignis cleared his throat. “I never thought I was someone who could be loved.” Valeria began to speak, but he shook his head, so she let him continue. “All these years, I contented myself with being needed. I… I thought that would be enough. It would have to be enough, because I-” His voice broke.

“Oh, Iggy…” Valeria wrapped her arms around him, planting kisses along his scarred cheek. “You are loved - not just by me. Gladio, Prompto, Prince Noctis - they’re your friends. They don’t just need you; they love you. We all love you.” Different kinds of love, but one was no less valuable than another.

“When I was injured, my friends, they… I was helpless. I could do nothing for them, but they stood by me.” A tear formed in the corner of his right eye, and Valeria wiped it away with her index finger. “When they wanted me to stay behind - and I know it was only out of concern for my well-being - I couldn’t bear it. I knew it was foolish, and it was dangerous, but it was as if all my fears were being realized: I was useless, no longer needed. The only value I saw in myself was in what I could do for others. If I was needed, then at least I...I wouldn’t be alone. ”

Looking at the man now, Valeria could see the boy who still lived buried deep inside, small and frightened and solitary, and her heart broke for that child who had lost his parents and his home, thrust into a strange new city filled with unfamiliar faces. Even if her mother had sometimes made it feel like her love was conditional, even if her father had made it seem like his love was only available when it was convenient for him, Valeria still knew her parents cared. They were still there, in her life, even if it wasn’t always when and how she wanted them to be.

Ignis might not have had that as a child, but he had a family now. Her, and the Amicitias, Prompto and Talcott, and of course, Prince Noctis.

“You’re not useless, Iggy. I need you,” she whispered, rubbing his cheek. “I need you, and I love you.”

“You don’t need me,” Ignis said, sounding almost pleased. “If something were to happen to me, you might grieve, but you would get by. You could take care of yourself. You wouldn’t end up taking ill from the mound of trash accumulating in your living room.”

In spite of the seriousness of the conversation, Valeria giggled.

“That was only half a joke,” Ignis went on. “There was a time - a long time - when, if I didn’t do Noct’s chores, they simply wouldn’t get done. And I suppose I encouraged that, enabled his laziness in a way, to ensure that he continued to need me.”

“But he’s your friend.” Ignis’s hairstyle had begun to come undone, and Valeria pushed away the stray locks that had fallen forward into his face. “You don’t have to do anything like that so that he’ll keep you around.”

Ignis’s lips quirked upward in a smile, a smile that was tinged with sadness. “I- Yes. I understand that now. It certainly took me a while, but I understand, and I want to show him that when he returns. I want to thank him for being my friend.”

“I’m sure he knows.”

“And you.” Ignis turned his head toward her, his hazy right eye looking through her, into the darkness only he could see. “Thank you. Thank you. For loving me, and for showing me that I am someone worthy of love.”

Now she was crying. Despite her best efforts to keep them contained, the tears began to fall. Ignis held her and kissed her softly on the mouth, and for this moment, at least inside the space of their narrow little bed, it felt like everything was finally as it should be and all was right with the world. Like all the terrible things that she’d seen and felt were somehow alright, because they’d led her to this time and place, in the arms of the man she adored.

“When this is all over,” Ignis said, wiping the moisture from Valeria’s cheeks. “Well, I hope you haven’t grown tired of me by then.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“It is my job - my duty - to advise the King of Lucis. Not to do his laundry. Anyone can do those mundane chores.” Ignis paused for a moment before continuing. “He will be surrounded by sycophants and people trying to further their own interest. What Noct will require isn’t a servant, but a friend, with whom he can speak plainly, and trust to tell him the truth, to keep him grounded. Which is all to say, I will no longer be working sixteen hours a day. Of course, if you still want to-”

“No,” Valeria said quickly, grinning from ear to ear. “That was a life someone else wanted for me. I want to help rebuild Lucis, but I want to be with you, too. And since everyone else seems to be able to balance work with their personal lives, I think we’ll be able to figure it out.”

Ignis was smiling as broadly as she was. “Yes. Yes, indeed.”

[queenofcats17]

The Intern

Audio logs from Cordelia Bell, music department intern and devoted fan of Sammy Lawrence. 

The assface part comes from here

Voice of Cordelia Bell

I can’t believe it! I’m really working at Joey Drew Studios! I’ve been dreaming about this day since I was a little kid, and it’s finally here! I know it’s going to be a lot of hard work, but I’m ready to roll up my sleeves and do what I have to. Mr. Lawrence is nicer than everyone says he is. Mr. Drew says I’ll be working under him since none of the other interns want to. Mr. Drew was really surprised when I said I wanted to work with Mr. Lawrence, but he seemed kind of glad too. Mr. Lawrence is very demanding, so I guess I can understand why a lot of the other interns are scared. But I’ve been writing him for years. I came here to work for him. I’m not going to give up on my dream now. Mr. Lawrence says he’s not going to give me special treatment just because we’ve been writing each other for awhile. I told him I never expected anything different from him and he smiled. Miss Campbell is really nice too, and I love hearing her do lines and sing. Oh! And Mr. Ross said I had a good work ethic! Mostly I’ve just been getting coffee for everyone, filling up the ink wells, getting Mr. Lawrence or Mr. Ross or the other animators paper, but he says I’ve been working real hard and he appreciates that. I think I’m really going to like it here.

.

.

Voice of Cordelia Bell

So, it’s been a couple of months, and things are still going pretty well. Mr. Drew’s been acting a little strange though. I...I’m not sure how to explain it. Nothing’s wrong, it’s just....Something’s a little off. Of course, something’s always a little off when it comes to Mr. Drew, so I guess I shouldn’t be all that worried. Everyone is really nice here. When I have anxiety attacks, Mr. Polk lets me sit in the corner in the band room and just listen to the band. It helps a lot. And Miss Campbell, sorry, Miss Susie has been giving me voice lessons when we have free time. She says I could really go places someday! I’m happy here for now, though. Someday I’ll go back to school, finish college, but for now I’m happy where I am. We need the money, after all. Roy’s surgeries won’t pay for themselves. N-Not that I’m resentful of him or anything! I’m really not. It’s just tough sometimes. Anyway, Mr. Lawrence has been a good boss so far, if a bit strict. Nothing I can’t handle though. Oh! Want to know something funny? Sometimes he just writes Assface on the paper instead of a song, and then I have to deliver it to the band! I always feel bad for the poor musicians. They always look so confused.

.

.

Voice of Cordelia Bell

Mr. Ross got drafted, and Mr. Drew got really mad about it. I don’t know why he got so angry, it’s not like Mr. Ross can get out of it. I’ll keep that to myself, though. Everyone in the studio heard the two of them yelling at each other. I didn’t even want to go upstairs in case I ran into them. Then Mr. Ross stormed out. I don’t think he’s going to be coming back. I’m scared. I’ve never seen Mr. Drew this angry before. Mr. Lawrence says it’ll pass, that everything will be fine, but I don’t know if he actually believes that. I think he’s scared too. Then, when I went upstairs to give Mr. Drew his coffee, he said something really weird. He said, ‘You aren’t going to leave me, are you Cordelia?’ There was this....This look in his eyes. I’ve never seen him look like that before. He had a book open on his desk, and I swear I saw some kind of....sigil in there. Like a daemonic sigil or something. I think something is about to go very wrong.

.

.

Voice of Cordelia Bell

Mr. Drew brought in this...ink machine from a man named Murray Hill. I don’t know what exactly it’s supposed to do. It’s big and ugly and the pipes keep bursting. The music department’s flooded at least three times in the past week alone. Mr. Lawrence is getting fed up with it and he’s gone to complain more than once. Mr. Drew keeps brushing it off though. I’ve been going up to deliver the complaints lately since Mr. Lawrence might lose his job if he says some of his complaints to Mr. Drew’s face. I’m expendable, Mr. Lawrence isn’t. Miss Susie says I shouldn’t worry so much, but I can’t help it. These people are like family to me. I don’t want any of them to suffer. The smell of ink here is getting to be overpowering. I don’t know how much longer I can stand it.

.

.

Voice of Cordelia Bell

I’m starting to get really scared now. People have been leaving the studio faster than they can get hired. The studio has been flooding even more, and I think Mr. Lawrence is on his way to a complete mental breakdown. Wally got fired last week for forgetting his keys for the millionth time. That’s probably the most normal thing that’s happened in the past few weeks, but I wish he hadn’t left. I need someone else to confide in. Mr. Lawrence has been so on edge that I don’t want to burden him any more than he already is, and Miss Susie is always busy. At least I can hide in the music room if things get really bad. Mr. Polk has been really nice about everything. Honestly, I don’t know how much longer I can do this. I don’t look forward to coming to work anymore. I dread every day I have to wake up and come here. Something bad is happening. I have to get out. But how am I supposed to tell Mr. Drew? He’ll go crazy if I try to leave, I just know it! I have to find some way out.

.

.

Voice of Cordelia Bell

I tried to commit suicide yesterday. It was a mistake, I know, but I was just so scared. I don’t know why I’m even recording this. I just want to talk it out, I guess. Everyone from the studio came and visited. Roy called them and told them what happened. They were all really worried. Mr. Drew didn’t come though. I’m glad he didn’t, even though saying that makes me feel bad. I’m afraid of what he might have done if he’d shown up. There’s something wrong with him now. Before...Before I left yesterday, I saw him painting a pentagram on the floor of his office. I can’t go back there. Roy says I need help. I know I do. He says he’ll call Mr. Drew and inform him of my resignation. That makes me feel a little better, but I’m still scared. Not for myself, but for everyone who works in the studio. Especially Mr. Lawrence. Miss Susie says she might quit soon, but I think this job is all Mr. Lawrence has. I’m...I’m scared. -The recording devolves into quiet sobbing.-

.

.

Voice of Cordelia Bell

My therapist says that recording my thoughts might make me feel better. I am feeling better, just being out of that environment. I’ve been writing Mr. Lawrence and he seems to be doing okay too. Mr. Drew’s been devolving though. Mr. Lawrence says Mr. Drew never leaves his office anymore, and the ink leaks have been happening more and more. I’m kind of worried for him. Working in that environment can’t be healthy for him, at the very least because of all the ink. I wouldn’t be surprised if we all got ink poisoning. The other reason is Mr. Drew himself. I think I said before that there’s always something a little off about him. The way he is now...That’s different. The way Mr. Lawrence talks about him, he sounds unhinged. I just hope everyone will be okay.

.

.

Voice of Cordelia Bell

Mr. Lawrence stopped writing back. I went to his apartment and his landlady said he hadn’t been back in a couple days. Roy says I shouldn’t go back to the studio, but I’m starting to get really worried. Miss Susie left about a week back, so she doesn’t know what’s going on either. I tried to hitchhike to the studio earlier, but Roy found me and took me home. He threatened to send me to a mental hospital. I know he’s just scared something bad will happen to me. Mr. Drew’s behavior scared him too. But Mr. Lawrence might be in danger. I can’t just let that go.

.

.

Voice of Cordelia Bell

I went back. I know I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t help myself. Oh God. I wish I hadn’t. Something horrible happened there. There were no cars when I showed up. The door was unlocked and the studio was a mess. There was ink everywhere, everything was boarded up. I couldn’t find Mr. Drew anywhere. Couldn’t find anyone. No, that’s not true. I found Mr. Lawrence, didn’t I? God. Poor Mr. Lawrence. I don’t know what happened to him. He...It looked like he was covered in ink. Like his body was made of ink. He was wearing these ratty overalls and a Bendy mask and...and...He tried to sacrifice me. He kept talking about sheep and Bendy being his savior. I don’t know what happened to him. That thing...it was barely Mr. Lawrence. I don’t know if he even recognized me anymore. He said I looked familiar. Familiar! He tied me up in the music department, but his fingers were too thick to tie the ropes properly, so I got out pretty easy. I didn’t wait around to see what happened. I ran as fast as I could until I was home. I think Roy knows what I did. He didn’t say anything, but he knows. I’m sure of it. I don’t know what Mr. Drew did....But something awful happened in that studio. I’m sorry Mr. Lawrence. I can’t go back there.

[asreoninfusion]

1-4,7,10, 11,13,14,16, 19-21, 25,26,30,34, 39,52,54,55, 61,62,65,67 also 69 - (b) - How mature do you think i am on a scale of 1 to 10 giggity giggity!

That’s a lotta questions! :o I’mma put this one under a cut, lol.

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents?

Yeah, my mum especially. To the point where we’ve been discussing buying a plot of land for my hobbit house and splitting the payments and I’d be 100% fine with doing that and trusting there to be no issues with the money and also we’d probably build the house together. She’s on board with my hobbit house plans.

02: Who did you last say “I love you” to?

Uuuuuumm, I don’t think I’ve said it for a long time, I can’t remember. I imagine it probably would have been my mum, but more likely in writing that in person ‘cause I’ve been away at uni and haven’t seen any of the family in a few months now.

03: Do you regret anything?

Many stupid small things and instances where I’ve embarrassed myself by being socially awkward. Nothing major though.

04: Are you insecure?

Depends on what about. I am content about some things, like being able to achieve things independently and get by on my own and also I’m generally perfectly happy with how I look, except for in photos which pisses me off because I know I look better than I do in photos and it annoys me that they make look bad. Fuck photos.

But then I am hideously insecure when it comes to dealing with other people like ahahahaha I am so bad it’s embarrassing. I need to go back to self-isolating I can handle that so much better. Every time I try to interact with people I end up fucking up somehow and hating myself.

07: What did you last eat?

I still haven’t eaten today, so it would have been dinner last night. I tried some of Domino’s new meatball things at a society/social thing last night, they weren’t that great.

10: When was your last physical fight?

Uhhh. Do sword fights count? Cause I imagine it would have been when I was taking the sword fighting lessons. That was like three years ago now.

11: Do you like someone?

Presuming this means like like as in crush-type like, no.

13: Do you hate anyone at the moment?

Nn, hate is a bit strong. There’s a few people in the aforementioned society that I am wary of, because they’ve made comments that are kind of racist or transphobic or otherwise Not Cool, but I’m too fucking weak-ass to call them out on it.

14: Do you miss someone?

Not really. It’s kind of weird, like, I say I’m close to my family but at the same time long periods of separation seem totally normal and I don’t miss them much at all idk.

16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment?

I... am still not entirely okay about last night’s society thing and the guy who was making transphobic comments. Like, if there’s one thing I really fucking hate, it’s people who spout opinions - usually opinions that are shitting on other people’s existences - when they clearly know fuck-all about what they’re talking about. Making judgements without knowing the full situation kind of thing. 

But I don’t feel like I know enough either to really stand my ground, so I say nothing because, as I mentioned before, I am fucking disgustingly weak. Like, evil flourishes if good people stand by and do nothing and all that jazz.

So, I feel gross about the comments, and I feel gross for not saying anything, and I just want to barricade myself off from the world because I can’t fucking handle anything, and then I feel gross about that too because ahahaha that is not how to respond to conflict.

(The amount of weakness + running away from my problems has gotten so bad I can’t even project onto Cloud anymore, even though he used to be my go-to identifier for that kind of shit. orz)

19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance?

Mmm, I don’t know, that could end badly. I don’t think there’s anywhen I’d want to go to enough to risk it. I’d rather just go somewhere else geographically in the current time.

20: Where was the last place you snogged someone?

I have not snogged anyone at any point ever.

21: What are your plans for this weekend?

Too much plans, I wanna sleep. But I want to get the tables and graphs done for one lab report and do a decent chunk of the research for the case study thing I have to do for next week. Then I’m gonna hang out with a friend this evening. Tomorrow there are mentions of a group of friends going to the Chinese supermarket and getting together and cooking stuff?? (We’ve done that before but there has been very little in the way of organisation/confirmation of anything this time round so idk.) And there’s the social for the BDSM club people tomorrow evening as well.

This is too much people I’m gonna burn out by the end of the weekend aaaaaahh. DX

Also I needed to try a wash my hair at some point, because we do not talk about how horrifically bad that situation is. (I look at those posts that occassionally crop up with neurotypical people horrified that someone with a mental illness might not shower for two or three days because spoons and I die imaging the reaction if they knew how godawful I am with that shit.)

25: Do you miss anyone from your past?

Nah. I’ve moved countries enough that I am very good at forgetting people and moving on, I’ve had a lot of practice. That’s probably not entirely a good thing, but.

26: What are you craving right now?

Breakfast.

30: What’s irritating you right now?

I think I already gave a far too detailed answer for that in question 16. >>

34: Who/what was your last dream about?

Oooooh. I did have quite an involved dream, but I can’t remember it all that well now. I think the vine guy was there briefly for some reason.

39: How old were you when you had your first kiss?

I have not yet had a first kiss.

52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason?

Nah, sometimes shit just happens because people are assholes. Most times there will be a way to rebuild and make something better out of whatever situation, but I wouldn’t say it ‘happens for a reason’ as if people were meant to suffer however they have.

54: Is cheating ever okay?

No. I mean, I don’t understand it anyway because being ace I’m just here like ‘wtf??? is it really that damn hard to keep it in your pants???’ lol. But if you are interested in having more than one partner, good communication and polyamorous type arrangements are a much better way to go if everyone’s on board with that. 

55: Are you mean?

Never intentionally, though I imagine my awkwardness sometimes can be interpreted as rudeness.

61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby?

It would depend on the person saying it. I used to have a friend a very long time ago who called me and our other friend ‘babe’, that was cute. If I trusted the person and it was done in a joking but affectionate kind of manner within a friendship/queerplatonic relationship I’d be fine with it. If it was someone I didn’t know so well and, like, if they’re trying to be sexy with it like a ‘hey baby’ kind of thing, that would be weird and creepy ‘cause no thank you.

62: What makes you happy?

Long hikes in lots of nature when the weather is nice, people saying nice things about fic or that thing that happens where we all bounce ideas off each other and end up with fic of art and art of fic, uni work that is actually fun to do and I feel accomplished when I make something I’m proud of, randomly having a gigglefit over recalling stupid funny things (mostly dumb vines or Markiplier, lol), when my voice cooperates and I can sing well.

65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do?

That is awkward as hell because I can guarantee I won’t feel the same way about them, soooo. If it was my best friend of the same sex that has more potential, since I would consider a queerplatonic kind of relationship with someone I was really close friends with and trusted a lot, but I’d be 100 times more comfortable with it if that person was female as well. (Or nonbinary, or trans, actually... now I think about, it’s only cis males that make me really nervous about being liked by. A generalisation, I know, but if any demographic is going to feel entitled to more than I’m comfortable with, it’d be them.)

67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to?

Probably someone at the uni society thing yesterday, I guess.

69: Do you believe in soulmates?

No, certainly not as a universal thing. Like, it’s sweet to some people click so well it feels like they’re soulmates, but I don’t think that can be expected for everyone.

[kdinthecity]

Unexpected

OK, I did not expect this one to come out so angsty! This is for Day 7: Unexpected Visits, and it’s super sad! I’m just warning you. I promise I will follow with Day 8: Spice where Katara visits a sex shop... ooh fun!

I’m actually writing this one in another author’s universe. So, if you don’t like mine, go read hers because it’s way better. So @until-my-last, I hope this is worthy of your awesome Zutara fic, Time Heals Wounds.

Did I warn you that it’s sad? Also, it’s Kataang. I know! So sad! And no cheating, only bonding between Katara and Zuko. Like serious bonding. Oh, and Ume is Zuko’s wife, an OC from Time Heals Wounds.

There were lots of things about turning thirty-five that Katara hadn’t expected.

 First, the recovery after her last pregnancy. It had been hard. Harder than she expected. Harder than the other two. It took much longer for her to feel normal again. And she was unexpectedly relieved when Tenzin weaned. Like this whole baby thing was just so taxing on her—physically and emotionally—and she would be juuuuuuust fine to be done with it.

 But she knew Aang would want more.

 She didn’t expect to get pregnant again so soon, though.

 Her hormones were such a mess, but she really did want to hit him when he said, “That’s great news, Katara! Another chance for an airbender!” It didn’t help that he said it in front of Bumi. Who by now had passed the age where bending ability was typically revealed—or not.

 Tenzin had been such a fitful baby that she was almost certain he’d turn out to be an airbender. The same week she found out she was pregnant, he learned to walk—no, wander. Her little nomad child, she’d come to think of him. Except that she was so very tired in these early stages of pregnancy that she didn’t want to chase a toddler. Surely this had been easier with Bumi and Kya, hadn’t it?

 It was also the same week that Aang was called away to weeklong peace proceedings in Ba Sing Se. The Earth Kingdom was worse than the Fire Nation at maintaining the peace, she decided. They always needed Aang’s help. Then again, King Kuei was no Fire Lord Zuko. And Zuko would probably not ask for help even if he needed it.

 But then her dear friend did ask for help—when she least expected it. And he was there to offer help—when she unexpectedly needed it.

Aang’s one-week trip turned into three weeks which wasn’t altogether unexpected. She would’ve graciously accepted this as typical Avatar duty, if only she hadn’t been so tired—and hot. Did she have these hot flashes last time? It wasn’t even summer, yet. At some point, bending away her own sweat wasn’t worth the energy or the effort.

 Thankfully an air acolyte took a break from her ceaseless praying to lend a hand with the kids. Katara knew she would never have that kind of devotion. Aang probably deserved someone who did. And someone who didn’t resent the idea of having another baby.

 Surely these thoughts were just the hormones talking. She loved her children. And she loved this new life inside her just the same. Didn’t she?

 “Uncle used to say that if you frown too much, your face will stick that way.”

 Katara nearly fainted. But not from hormones. From the sound of his voice.

 “Zuko! What are you doing here?”

 “Well, I realized that I’ve never met Tenzin. So it’s been over a year. And Izumi wanted to see Bumi and Kya. It’s dreadfully boring at the palace.” His tone was uncharacteristically upbeat. The crease in his brow gave him away.

 “No siblings, yet?” It was a personal question that she disliked when people asked her. Especially since she heard no airbenders, yet, instead. But this was Zuko, her best friend. Surely he wouldn’t take it personally.

 Except that unexpectedly, he did, thus confirming her suspicions. “Ahhh, no—um…”

 “Zuko, what is it? Is Ume OK?”

 “She’s uhh—well, we’ve tried, of course. But I think something’s wrong. Not with that. I don’t care about that. She’s just tired all the time. And short of breath. Do you think you could…?”

 “Of course, Zuko. I’d be glad to take a look. Is she here?”

 “No. She didn’t feel up to the journey. I—of course, we have plenty of room for your family at the palace. Come whenever is convenient. Stay as long as you like.”

 “Aang is in Ba Sing Se right now, but when he gets back…”

 A flurry of activity interrupted their conversation. Bumi practically tackled Zuko with a laughing Kya trailing him. Ten-year-old Izumi then appeared with a drooly Tenzin perched on her hip. Katara marveled at how much the young firebender had grown, her childlike features fading into a womanly beauty. There were definite traces of Zuko in her appearance, but glimpses of Ume, too.

 “I heard you’ve been training with the sword, Master Bumi.” Zuko ruffled the seven-year-old’s crazy crop of hair.

 “Yes sir, but I’m hardly a master. I sometimes train with Uncle Sokka… when he’s not busy.”

 “Hmm, you need a master, don’t you?” Zuko’s eyes flickered to Katara, but she didn’t have a good answer to his unspoken question. She taught Kya waterbending, but it was true that Bumi’s own training had been neglected.

 “Yes sir.” The disappointment in the child’s voice was answer enough, though.

 “Tell me, Bumi, have you ever fought with two swords?” Zuko redirected.

 The boy’s chin lifted, and his eyes sparkled. “Like at the same time? That’s impossible!”

 “Well, you have two hands, don’t you?”

 Katara fought the urge to say that her son might not have two hands after swordfighting lessons with Zuko. She could tell, though, by the way his eyes lit up and how Izumi rolled hers that he didn’t get to do this often, if ever.

 So Zuko went off with Bumi, Izumi and Kya practiced their bending moves together, and Katara put Tenzin down for a nap. Suddenly it was very quiet, and she had time for herself. It was most unexpected, and she honestly didn’t know what to do with herself. She decided to prepare the guest room for their unexpected visitors in hopes that they would stay awhile.

 Later that evening, a giddy, sweaty Zuko shooed her out of the kitchen and offered to make dinner. It was such an unusual gesture. Aang never made dinner. She didn’t even expect Zuko to know how to cook. He was royalty, after all. The bigger surprise, though, was that he cooked them meat. She didn’t realize how much she’d missed it—how much it reminded her of home. She didn’t dare ask where it came from, although Bumi answered soon enough.

 “Mom, Fire Lord Zuko took me hunting!”

 “Oh, he did, did he?” She shot her friend a look of warning. It was one thing to teach Bumi the swords, but hunting encroached on their family values.

 Zuko just shrugged. “It wasn’t really hunting. The animal was already hurt, so we kinda… put it out of its misery? I’m a terrible hunter anyway. I couldn’t hit a moving target if I tried.”

 Somehow Katara doubted that. She was about to expound on her reprimand, but Izumi spoke first.

 “Ew, Dad. Can we not talk about our food like that?” She made a fake choking sound. “I think I’m going to become a vegetarian.”

 “Cool. Can we trade families then? Because I want to eat meat everyday!” Bumi popped another bite into his mouth, beaming proudly as he did.

 It was a most unfortunate time for “morning” sickness to hit. Katara quickly excused herself from the table. She didn’t expect Zuko to follow her.

 “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—“ He held back her hair. He actually held back her hair. She held back her tears.

 After she had recovered, both from the retching and repressing, he continued in a calm and soothing voice, “I didn’t mean to make you sick. I didn’t think… of course, if you never eat meat—“

 “No, Zuko, it’s not your fault. I-I’m pregnant.”

 “Oh.”

 She couldn’t read his expression much like she could read her own emotions in that moment, either. She wondered why he had to be so nice, so helpful, so… perfect. Scarred, yet flawless.

 That was ridiculous, though. Nobody was perfect. The only reason people would overlook each other’s imperfections was if love had made them blind.

 Suddenly, Katara saw the situation all too clearly.

 “I’m tired. I’m going to bed. You and Izumi are welcome to stay, of course. Just make yourself at home.”

 “I’d prefer not to travel at night if that’s alright. We’ll head back first thing in the morning. I appreciate your hospitality.”

 His tone was so formal and his expression so stiff, it was like she was talking to the Fire Lord and not a dear friend. Had he also noticed the shift that had occurred between them, albeit subtle? She couldn’t very well sort through these muddled thoughts and emotions, not in her current state. Perhaps it would be best if she slept through his departure the next day.

 Little did she know what darkness lie ahead in the night and what new light would be cast on their relationship by morning.

 She expected to drift right to sleep, but a slight cramping sensation kept her awake. She blamed it on the meat… at first. Then the pain intensified. Then there was blood. Then water—her hands coated in it, glowing, healing. Then stillness. Then screaming.

 She almost felt like she was outside of herself watching the scene unfold. This couldn’t be happening. No. This wasn’t happening.

 She must have fallen asleep at some point because she woke up the next morning in his arms. She remembered what had happened, but she didn’t remember him.

 “Zuko, wha—“

 “Shhhhhh. It’s OK.”

 Her throat felt raw, so she knew she had been crying—a lot. Still, she managed, “I k-k-killed my baby.”

 Zuko tightened his grip on her shoulders. “What!? Of course you didn’t! These things… just happen. It’s nobody’s fault. You even tried to save your baby. I saw your healing water.”

 She sighed deeply and buried her face in his chest. “But I d-d-didn’t want to be pregnant again. Not so soon. Not when Aang—“ She couldn’t finish. It sounded too selfish to say out loud. But the pressure had become so overwhelming. She couldn’t promise airbending heirs to her Avatar husband no matter how much she wanted to—no matter how hard she tried. She felt like a failure of a wife—and a mother.

 She saw Zuko’s jaw clinch, and she knew what he must be thinking. She didn’t want to portray Aang in a bad light. It certainly wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t even here.

 That’s right. He wasn’t here.

 But Zuko was.

 She nestled deeper into his warmth, his comfort. It was what she needed, and she admitted to herself that she needed it from him. Somehow she knew that Aang would grieve the loss of their child, the chance at another airbender. He would grieve for her. But Zuko—he would grieve with her.

 I’m sorry. That’s something we have in common. It seemed like only yesterday that he’d spoken those words in a cave full of glowing green crystals.

 “It gets easier,” Zuko said suddenly.

 “What?” His words shook her from her reverie.

 “S-s-sorry. That’s not very comforting, I know. I shouldn’t have—“

 “Ume,” she whispered before she realized the name had escaped her lips. The same thing must’ve happened to her—to them. Guilt overtook her. She shouldn’t be here clinging to Zuko when he had a sick wife back at home. She quickly released him and moved away from the bed.

 “Katara, I’m sorry if I did something wrong, I—“ There was pain in his voice and sadness in his eyes, like he was still very much the boy in the cave. But he wasn’t, and they had come so far since then. They were closer than she’d ever expected to become with someone from the Fire Nation, a former enemy, the Fire Lord, even.

 “No, Zuko, it’s fine. You’re… I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’ve been… perfect.”

 She reached out to take his hand and gave it a small squeeze. Her gaze then drifted to the stained bedsheets, and her vision blurred with tears. A warm hand cupped her face, and a calloused thumb swiped across her wet cheek. His touch felt nice, but as she leaned into it, confusion and clarity struck her once again.

 “Zuko, why are you here?”

 “Because I heard you screaming in the night.”

 “No, I mean, why are you here?”

 “Oh. I came to ask you for help.”

 Yes, of course. She sighed and pulled away.

 “And because I wanted to see you.”

 His statement and his smile were so genuine that her tears flowed freely now. There was something so painfully beautiful about this moment they shared together. She would never want to relive it, but she would cherish it all the same. She shuddered at the calm comfort of his next words.

 “Hey. You go get yourself cleaned up. I’ll take care of cleaning up in here. OK? Then, you get some rest, and I’ll get some breakfast ready for when the kids wake up.”

 Yet again, unexpectedly perfect. Or perhaps perfectly unexpected?

 With Zuko, it was always a little unclear.

[liveathousandlives2013]

Without You, There Is No Us, by Suki Kim

From Goodreads:

Neither a straightforward reporter's nonfiction nor a memoir about a woman's self-discovery, Without You, There Is No Us is a tour de force journalistic feat delivered in a narrative literary voice from within the world's most brutal gulag nation.

Every day, three times a day, the students march in two straight lines, singing praises to Kim Jong-il and North Korea: Without you, there is no motherland. Without you, there is no us. It is a chilling scene, but gradually Suki Kim, too, learns the tune and, without noticing, begins to hum it. 

In 2011, Suki Kim went to North Korea to teach English to the sons of the North Korean elite. She went in the employ and in the company of a group of evangelical Christians, who had raised funds from fellow evangelical Christians all over the world to run a school in North Korea. Proselytizing is a capital crime in North Korea and the teachers were explicitly forbidden from even discussing their faith with their students, but they went anyway in the hopes of establishing a foothold for the future. 

Kim signed up to go with them to teach at Pyongyang University of Science and Technology (PUST) without volunteering that she had written articles for Harper’s and the New York Review of Books about North Korea before, or that she did not share their faith, and for whatever reason, the school directors and her fellow teachers did not discover this easily Googled information about Kim, nor did they ask her to sign any agreements not to discuss her experiences in North Korea.  

In essence, Kim was a journalist, undercover as a missionary, undercover as a teacher.  Without You, There Is No Us is her account of the months she spent there.

Because of the extreme secrecy surrounding North Korea and the severe restrictions placed on not only the teachers’ movements but also the students’ and, by logical extension, all North Koreans, Kim could not have written anything like a normal investigative report. It is not possible to investigate anything about North Korea in this way. Instead, what we get in  Without You, There Is No Us is what Kim was able to see, and what those few brief glimpses led her to wonder and to guess about what everyday life was like for her students and for other North Koreans. 

The picture painted by Kim’s observations is a stark one, heartbreaking in its details as much as in its vague incompleteness. For example, it becomes obvious to her that her students are accomplished liars; they lie to her not only about their pasts, but even about their daily activities, to the point that it takes great effort for her to really know when her students are lying unless she happens to see something that contradicts them.

And so I went from love to pity to repulsion and distrust, then back to empathy and love again...I reminded myself that I did not come from a place where mind games were a prerequisite for survival to such an extreme degree, a place where the slightest act of rebellion could have unimaginable consequences.

Slowly, I became used to the expressions on their faces as they lied or said things they regretted, and I began to be able to tell which statements were true and which were not, which students never ever faltered, and which sometimes made slips. But there were some evenings when I did not want to play this guessing game, when my disappointment was so profound that I chose to sit with the students whose English was the poorest so that they would be less likely to lie to me.

Kim was born in Seoul and fled to the United States with her family when she was thirteen, to avoid her father being jailed for bankruptcy. Her mother was a child during the Korean War and remembers fleeing south with her mother and siblings. On the way, they were separated from her eldest brother, Kim’s uncle. He was never seen again. 

Thus, the scars of the violent separation of the Korean peninsula touched Kim and her family personally, which might explain her self-described “obsession” with the isolated country of North Korea:

Strangely, in 2002, when I visited Pyongyang for the first time, I felt more at home than I had since I left Seoul as a child. There was a sense of recognition. The past was all right there before me: generations of Koreans separated by division; decades of longing, loss, hurt, regret, guilt. I identified with it in a way that I could never shake off. I thought that if only I could understand the place, then I could find a way to help put the fragments back together.*

Without You, There Is No Us therefore is a strange book to pin down--neither straightforward journalistic non-fiction, nor memoir, nor history. Kim draws on her family’s history, her own past, and her state of mind to fill in the blanks in her North Korean experience because she has no other alternative. As we read, it becomes clear to us what Kim has learned: it is as impossible to know and understand North Korea as it is to explain it. 

This feeling was akin to heartbreak, and it took me a while to make sense of it--until one evening...it occured to me that it was all futile, the fantasy of Korean unity, the five thousand years of Korean identity, because the unified nation was broken, irreparably, in 1945 when a group of politicians drew a random line across the map, separating families who would die without meeting again, with all their sorrow and anger and regret unrequited...I saw very clearly that there was no redemption here.

I found  Without You, There Is No Us to be an incredibly compelling and moving book that really brings forth the humanity of North Koreans and the terrible tragedy of the regime that smothers their country, so much so that I was surprised that the top review on Goodreads was so negative. 

I won’t claim that my feelings about the book should be universal, or that there aren’t any flaws in either how Kim wrote about her experiences or even in how she went about gathering those experiences. But I thought it was interesting how the Goodreads reviewer in the top review (a woman, judging by her photo) criticized Kim so harshly for how she framed her experience, even going so far as to unironically agree with the extremely misogynistic assessment of one of the “minders” at the school (Koreans loyal to the regime who monitored both the teachers and the students for any rebellion or misbehavior) that Kim was using her sexuality to manipulate her students. She even goes so far as to describe his (frankly, disgusting) comments as “ self-flattering dialogue spoken by others “ that Kim “tossed in.” 

I really don’t know and can’t understand where such a criticism comes from, if not from outright misogyny, especially when Kim makes clear how threatening such comments were to her, coming from a minder with far more authority than any of the teachers, to the extend that Kim from then on made certain that she would not meet that minder alone again, even in daylight, despite knowing that her status as a foreign teacher made her pretty much safe from assault from anyone for fear of harsh punishment. At least, so long as no one ever discovered the notes she was making for this book.

Even considering the danger, Kim had an amazing amount of privilege compared to her students: she could leave North Korea. They cannot. So long as the current regime in North Korea stands, they never will. Kim went to North Korea hoping to understand it better, but also with a hope that maybe she might be able to give some sign to her students of what the outside world was like, what they lacked as virtual prisoners of their country, some inspiration to change things once they inherited power. It is unclear whether she had any success at this, but I will end here with Kim’s own words:

Now, a few years later, their faces still come to me, one by one, and this motherly feeling overwhelms me. I taught them how to speak, this strange breed of children, unaware of the world outside. Yet I hope they have forgotten everything I inspired in them and have simply grown to become soldiers of the regime. I do not want to imagine what might happen if they retained my lessons, remembered me, began questioning the system. I cannot bear the idea that any of my students--my boys who so eagerly shouted, “Good morning, Professor Kim! How are you?” every time I walked into the classroom--might end up somewhere dark and cold, in one of the gulags that exist all over North Korea. The thought keeps me awake at night still.

*all emphasis in quotes is mine.