#Han's actually the sensible one

[ora-draws]

A little analysis on how Hans & Henry were handled post-ending (heavy KCD2 spoiler alert)

Ok, so I've seen a lot of people talk about how they feel like the ending-part after the siege falls short when it comes to Hansry and leaves out a lot of possible interactions that could have been included.

And I feel you there, although I'm also a big fan of show-don't-tell and leaving things to imagination and interpretation.

However saying we got like a 4 minute romance scene after only being fed crumbs for hundreds of hours does not only fail to acknowledge the crafty subtlety with which their relationship and development has been told over the whole course – it also disregards how impactful the ending actually is.

More under the cut.

In order to put this into perspective, we need to consider not only Hans and Henry, but also the other main romance options: Rosa and Katherine. Rosa happens rather mid-game and while she isn't as mutually exclusive as Kat/Hans, she can be Henry's desired sweetheart by the end if you so choose. Yet whether you do or not, Rosa tells Henry that she considers this a one-time thing, even comes across rather pragmatic about it and tells him off by reminding you that any future is impossible anyway, since he is bastard and she's a nobleman's daughter.

As for Katherine, this is a bit more complicated; she opens up to Henry a bit in the very last moment, they spend an intimate and vulnerable moment together, finding comfort in each other's arms. Yet although she is clearly relieved about Henry's survival and brightens up after the siege, she's more open than set on staying with him, yet implies she'll give it a try. And that's understandable, given her past and circumstances. She even mentions how she doesn't believe she can truly ever be happy again, even if you suggest looking forward. There's a lot of shared trauma here which gives common ground, but is the biggest obstacle at the same time. Apart from that, Kat doesn't bring a lot of baggage, she's a commoner like you, and is just as unbound.

And then we have Hans. Who is not only literally the 'worst' choice Henry could have made in any possible regard considering time period and society, but also a 'lost cause'. We spend half of the ending dialogue with him and Hanush talking about how Henry needs to force him to attend his wedding if the need shall arise. And yet, despite all things given, the moment you can talk privately, Hans doesn't give a second thought to all this. Not only is he genuinely happy and relieved about Henry's well-being: He has no regrets, utters no doubts about what has happend, and the first thing he talks about is how to postpone the wedding as long as possible, even if he cannot avoid it in the end.

He is annoyed, yes, but he doesn't despair about it – and remarks quite clearly that he and Henry will just need to see how things will work out for them. Which is sensible, even if it is also naive. They could never be together openly anyway. But again, it's worth mentioning how even with all that uncercainty, he treats it with a genuine & positive outlook. And – of course – let's not forget that he right away (and happily) jumps onto your offer to take a look at his arrow wound and very bluntly makes the suggestion to find a place which is more private again, showing he wants to be close with you again and stay this way. And Hans – ironically – is the only love interest who does it this way. Which is absolutely heartwrenching and sweet and says a lot, even if we don't get 'much'.

And it is also very very Hans lmao. The second you are alone he's like: Yeah, that's my man, fuck everything, let's go. One has to keep in mind that his heartbreaking Galehaut/Lancelot talk was possibly one of his most vulnerable moments and a rather stark contrast to his usual behavior, because there was just so much at stake. If at all, it shows how much it meant to him.

I see a lot of people depict him as very sensitive, passive or whiny, but honestly, while he can be a spoiled brat and a nuisance, Hans is everything BUT subtle most of the time: he's impulsive, needy, jealous and a short-tempered hothead and it's a very lovely detail this shines through as soon as you are together again. Why? Because it shows how he feels comfortable in his skin and with his choice – and with Henry. Despite everything. This sets him quite apart from the other LIs imo & and all these little details are what make their story and relationship so appealing.

If you've read all of this: Thank you.💚 This is a first for me, I never engaged this much with people online before. I was somehow sucked into this fandom and I genuinely love it, it's an absolutely lovely and welcoming community.

Thanks also to @dill-weeds for chatting about this beforehand, it made me write this down ha.

[restinslices]

Angst Idea: Headcanons or one shot is up to you; but the idea of Bi-Han’s kid died awhile ago prior to the games events(probably do to a rival clan wanting to take out the next heir of the clan) and it fuels a lot of his resentment towards liu Kang and stuff. It’s not until he meets one of the versions of his kid from a different timlime( probably during Khaos regins or during one of the many invasion seasons) and he ends up desperately trying to connect with this version of his kid even if it’s not really his original version of them.

Oh this is delicious.

I'm writing this on the tumblr website so I can’t check the word count, soooo to prevent this from being stupidly long, Imma split this into two parts (if ya’ll want the next part).

CW: Angst, child death, non canon storyline

(He so damn fine. The red flags just looking like flags~)

Bi-Han knew he had his faults. He was ill tempered, dishonest, untrusting, held grudges, the list could go on and on. All those flaws disappeared when he was around a special someone, tossed in the wind and floating about, waiting until he was away from them.

He wouldn't blame anyone for assuming he'd be a strict father who took issue with everything his child did. He knew Kuai Liang and Tomas assumed he'd be just like that, only to be surprised when he proved himself to be the gentlest of souls when it came to his baby.

"Aw man!" The seven year old pouted as they kicked at a rock, "okay, you hide next and I'll try to find you!". Hide and Seek had been their favorite game for years now, for reasons he didn't know. He just chalked it up to one of the many things they found intriguing that he personally didn't care for. They covered their eyes with their hands, "one! Two! Three-!

Bi-Han's rough hands pulled theirs from their eyes, "playtime is over". He had already let them skip out on the last hour of their lessons. He had to be somewhat sensible and at least get them to bed on time. "We'll play again tomorrow"

"But I wanna play now"

"Yeah? Well-"

A gasp followed by a squeal left them, which honestly could've meant a number a things. Children were excitable by nature but he swore they had more energy than any normal child did.

"Daddy look!" his eyes followed where they pointed, eventually seeing…

A butterfly.

A butterfly?

That's what got them excited? "Isn't it pretty?

Not necessarily. It was just a butterfly. A little insect with wings. Whatever caused them to squeal, he didn't see it. But he also wasn't a child anymore. His mind had been reigned in by the reality of being an adult long ago, his childish wonder dripping out of him until there was nothing left. "It's a butterfly"

"But isn't it pretty?". He shrugged. "You don't like butterflies?

"I don't care for them"

"Why not?

"I just don't. Come on, let's go home"

His extended hand went ignored, his child instead choosing to slowly approach the flower the butterfly sat on. "I think you should start liking butterflies. They're small, but small things keep us happy". Ugh, what cereal box did they read that from?

"I'll considerate it" he said, trying not to sound as uninterested as he actually was. "Let's go home"

"Hey dad" you looked over at him, "I'm gonna make history when I'm Grandmaster. Wanna know how?

Hmm... Your intellect maybe? You'll be known as the wisest Grandmaster the Lin Kuei have had so far. Or maybe your strength. You'll crush the bones in someone's body without even thinking. Or maybe you'll be fast enough to kill 1000 men within the blink of an eye. Or maybe-

"I'm gonna be happy"

Happy? How would being happy make history?

"Grandpa was pretty grumpy sometimes. You are too. Maybe Grandmasters are always grumpy. I won't be though. I'm gonna be the very first happy Grandmaster. You wanna know how?". You fully turned to face him, arms outstretched "like this. I'll have open arms"

As smart as Bi-Han was, you had fully lost him by now. "Open arms?

You nodded, "yeah. That means I won't be all angry and violent all the time. I'll be kind. That's what I wanna be when I grow up; kind. I think everyone would be a lot more happier if everyone was kind. Everyone doesn't have to be sad and angry". The butterfly began to flutter away, catching your attention. "Maybe I'll inspire others to greet the world with open arms. You think I can do that?”

No. As harsh as it sounded, Bi-Han knew what you wanted was impossible. People would always yell, fight and kill. The world would continue to be ugly because that's just how the world was. There was no "greeting the world with open arms". That wasn't realistic. No Grandmaster was happy because being a Grandmaster meant carrying a heavy burden. You'd see.

But he couldn't tell you that. You looked too sweet and innocent, eyes full of light when thinking about a future that couldn't be.

"I think... " he began, setting his hand down on your shoulder. "I think you can do whatever you set your mind to"

That smile was worth the lie.

"Can we play one more round of hide and seek before we go home? Please please please? I won't even choose a super good hiding spot, and we can use the clap rules! Please please please please pleeeeeasssee?”

No! You need to get to bed!

"Alright, fine"

Dammit Bi-Han. Just one more round, then you'd be off to bed. Then he swore he'd be more strict with you.

"Close your eyes!”

Yeah yeah, he knew how the game went. He closed his eyes before covering them with his hands (because you always sword he was peeking if he didn't cover his eyes), then counted loudly. 1, 2, 3, he shouted each number until he got to 10. "First clap!”

Clap clap!

East.

His feet carried him while his eyes scanned the area. The faster he found you, the faster you could both be inside. He wouldn't admit it, but damn, he was tired. A mix of both physical and mental exhaustion, but he tried his best to hide all that from you.

"Second clap!”

He waited a bit.

Silence.

"Second clap!" he shouted louder. Still, all he got was silence in return. There was no way you didn't hear him. You always heard him when he called for you. "Clap or we're going home!".

More silence.

Then a ear piercing scream.

"DAD, HELP!”

You were a jokester, yeah, but this was no prank. You'd never play like this with him, and that scream, it was of genuine horror. It was a tone he had never heard you use before. A tone that scared the hell out of him, and caused him to run in the direction where he last heard you clap.

He kept running, calling out for you, heart thumping faster than it ever had before. A snake. Let it be a snake that frightened you. Or a spider. Anything but you actually being harmed. “WHERE ARE YOU?!”.

“DAD!”.

He was getting closer.

He could hear you crying.

All these stupid fucking trees were in his way. He kept having to finagle his way through them, which only added to his panic. Seconds wasted on trying not to run straight into one. “I’M COMING!”.

“DAD!”

“I’M-“ he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw you. A nightmare. That’s what he wanted this to be. This couldn’t be real. You couldn’t actually be laying on the ground, blood seeping from the several stab wounds you had. How? He had just saw you!

Someone had been watching you. How hadn’t he noticed?!

“I have you” he ran to your side, heart tearing into two when he heard you cry in reaction to him sitting you up. “Daddy’s here. I have you”. Who would do this to you?! Who would attack a child just trying to play with their father?!

“I’m scared” you managed to get out in between your heavy breathing. So was he.

“Don’t be. I have you”.

“I don’t wanna die”.

“You won’t! I’ll get you home!”. You blinked, but it lasted too long. He had to get you home now! “Stay awake. I have you”. That’s all he wanted you to do. Just stay awake and let him get you help.

Your breathing changed almost at an instant. Your hyperventilating slowed, which was the exact opposite of what he wanted. “Dad…”.

Bi-Han watched as you let out your last breath.

Your eyes were still open, but they lacked the warmth from earlier. They were lifeless now, no light in sight. A smile no longer graced your face. There was no talk of open arms. There was no big speech like there was in the books he read as a child. You were just gone.

“Baby” he whispered, “wake up. Don’t- this is an order from your Grandmaster! Get up! GET UP!”. He shook you with all his might, but the dead didn’t follow orders. He rocked back and forth, your blood staining his clothes, his forehead on yours, letting out the most gut wrenching sobs he had ever let out in his entire life. When his mother died, he was sad, but he was comforted by the fact that she had lived a beautiful and long life. You were so young. You still had so much of the world to see. Shit, maybe you actually could’ve led some unnatural era of peace. He didn’t fucking know. All he knew was that it would never happen now.

His baby was gone. His beautiful sweetheart with a laugh as beautiful as the clouds in the sky, was gone.

You were just a corpse now.

~~

When Bi-Han found out that Liu Kang was the creator of this timeline, he wasn’t shocked like the others. He hadn’t seen it coming, but he felt something stronger than shock.

He felt rage.

As creator of this timeline, not only had he chosen to have the Lin Kuei remain mediocre, but he must’ve known that you would be killed.

“That’s not true” he tried to tell Bi-Han, “I am no puppet master. I had no idea that your child would die, and I didn’t plan for it to happen”.

“Then bring them back”.

“I can’t”.

Bullshit. He could do anything! He just refused to!

Liu Kang… he was the true traitor yet everyone was angry with Bi-Han?! He hadn’t meant for Sindel to die, but why was everyone upset by her death? What about his child? No one demanded justice for them! Even when their death was fresh, all these people who cried for Sindel, their “allies”, did nothing. Liu Kang could’ve burnt their rival clan down to the ground, but no! Bi-Han had to carry the weight of his grief, and somehow think straight enough to make a plan of attack. When he looked up from your corpse and spotted the pendant of his rival clan nearby, gods, he wanted everyone to die. And Liu Kang had the nerve to advise him to think on it first?! No!

“The innocent men, women and children-”

What about his child?!

That grudge was the wind beneath his wings, carrying him away from everyone he once called an ally. But it also carried him to what appeared to be his own destruction.

He was in an unfamiliar timeline now, woozy from the fight he was just in. Fine, maybe he should’ve made a better decision, but at least he was doing something! Liu Kang would probably have him be inactive as always!

But now he was in an even worse spot. In unfamiliar lands with a madman ranting about his need for anarchy. Black tendrils with sharp points came closer and closer to Bi-Han, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t afraid.

Then, there was a noise. A clattering on the ground.

Before Titan Havik could react, a sudden wave of ice filled the nearby area, freezing anyone with their feet touching the ground. Ice crawled up the nearby machines, but thankfully it didn’t stick the way it did to flesh.

“Move move move!”. Ugh, of all variants, it had to be Jonny Cage?

Johnny Cage in a military uniform? He needed a nap.

“How long do those bombs last?” Johnny asked, rushing over to Geras and freeing him from his confines.

“Long enough for us to get out of here!”.

That voice…

He was upside down, but he could still recognize the child approaching him. He heard that voice in his dreams and nightmares. Of course he’d recognize it.

“Hi dad”.

His baby.

TUMBLR PLS STOP DELETING RANDOM SHIT! THIS IS SUCH A RANDOM ASS GLITCH-

[juniperdugong]

Super Weird - Vernon

WC: 867 || Genre: Fluff || CW: Suggested bullying (?)/ reader being an outcast || Vernon x GN!reader (established relationship)

A/N: For all my weirdos because I'm a weirdo and Vernon is too, ain't no denying it, just a buncha freaks in masks huh?

"Do you think I'm weird?"

Vernon looks at you, eyes squinting in confusion and his expression shifting into a scowl seeing that you're completely serious, "Whaf dar haw ah yo tarking abo-?" (What the hell are you talking about?)

His mouth is filled with the last and biggest spoonful of food that you knew you couldn't finish so - as the routine goes - you gave it to Vernon. He furiously chews at a pace that you know probably isn't safe and with a large and rather painful-looking gulp his mouth is free of obstructions. "What did you just say?" his tone sounds more lightly confused but his face gives quiet anger more than anything.

"Hansol you heard me. Do you think I'm weird?" You speak very monotonously, a trait the two of you shared.

"Of course you're weird." He says it like it's a matter of fact. His expression completely drops into the deadpan face you're used to. He ignores how perplexed you look as he brings the dishes to the sink.

"And you're okay with that?" You ask out of genuine curiosity, you know that most people would outcast someone they think is weird - it's something you've often experienced at school and work. So if he thought you were strange then why would he stick around?

"Why wouldn't I be?" He looks up at you almost accusatorily as he scrubbed the dishes and put them to dry.

"I mean- It doesn't bother you at all that I'm abnormal or weird? I know people talk about how I sound or that I'm too... strange and stuff. It isn't lost on me but if you also know that then why do you stick around?" You let your words spill just wanting to get down to the root of the issue while escaping the heavy-handed approach of blurting out "Why would you want to be with someone you find weird?".

"Nope." That was his reply. His. Entire. Answer. Just "Nope." and then he picked his phone up from the table and went to sit in the living room. You know he saw your face as it contorted into even more confusion and bafflement but he ignored it!

You did the only sensible thing, of course, and immediately trailed him and sat right next to him, snatching his phone out of his hand as he opened up a game. You had his attention and yet he seemed confused? As if he wasn't the one who completely dodged your questioning before.

"Yes?"

"You have nothing else to say?"

He gave himself a moment to think, you thought for a millisecond that perhaps he's finally found a more appropriate answer, "Nope."

"Huh?" You shake your head completely bewildered. "You know I'm weird and you still want to be with me, why is that?"

"It's probably because I love you or something weird like that-" He turns to you as a blush sets in. Chuckling he gives a small pinch to your cheeks, fighting the cuteness aggression he feels, "Don't think about it too much though, that's a fact you should already know about by now... I would hope you know about by now..." He tilts his head as he says that last part as if questioning if you really did know about his love after all this time.

Vernon's love for you was something you never questioned, even though he wasn't exactly the best at physically expressing it he always made sure to assure you through words, actions, or gifts. It was a bit odd honestly, like he had some sort of psychic powers to know what your needs are. Maybe...

"I think you're the weird one actually-" you start thinking out loud.

"Yeah? Maybe."

"And you accept that, Han?"

"Mhm." His answers are blunt and to the point, you have to wonder if he's just saying this to satisfy your curiosity- "I'm not just saying that by the way. I know that I'm weird, babe."

"You a wizard?" He squints as he looks at you, waiting for clarification, "You read my mind like one."

"Nope, I'm just a really good boyfriend I think." He relaxes into the couch, pulling you onto his lap and retrieving his phone from your grasp.

"So we're both just weird and we both just have to accept that?"

"Looks like it, babe."

"huh..." You ponder on it for a moment as your eyes look around your shared apartment. Shelves filled with knick-knacks of yours, pillows in the shape of cartoon characters, anime on the TV currently... "Yeah, okay." You retract your worry as quick as it came, it was an absurd thought that you let yourself get caught up in any way. You wrap your arms around his neck, leaning your head against his shoulder as you watch him play his game.

"Hansol?"

"What?"

"Why am I seeing a half-naked man on your screen right now?"

"That is my current boyfriend, Sylus."

You look at him and raise an eyebrow, he meets your nebulous expression with a peck on the lips. "You are weird, Han."

"I know baby. It's honestly weirder that you heard me say all of that and that's your only reaction."

A/N: Hahaha totally not something to sate you guys as I continue working on the Cheol angst fic... (Please help me I'm 3000 words in and still haven't gotten through half of my bullet points) Tbf I did say it was gonna be long though... First Vernon fic though! Plus comeback around the corner, yeah let's all talk about all the whiplash that's been going on in Caratland rn...

Please Reblog and Comment (They act as power-ups for me)

Taglist (OPEN): @bemybabiibish @bath1lda @porridgesblog

[johanna-swann]

This got a little long and it might sound a little mean at first, but. What exactly does Eddie bring to the table that adds to the bigger picture of the show as a whole?

Disclaimer: If you are a big Eddie fan and/or disagree with me, I am happy to have a civil discussion about this. I mean that, I love debates over fandom stuff. You can comment or drop into my inbox, whatever. Please do keep it civil though and if you could actually read the post before coming at me - that would also be appreciated. I can promise you I'll be nice as long as you are and you won't provoke any sort of reaction out of me other than some polite concern for your mental well being anyway. I pick the fights worth having carefully and if you're just ignorant or aggressive, I'll end up blocking you.

As per usual I'm trying to give my rant a somewhat sensible structure, stay as objective as possible and highlight it when I introduce a new point. Alright, let's go.

Observation number one. The firefamily worked perfectly fine as a found family of 4 in season 1. They were a somewhat dysfunctional family, but that's what made them interesting and they already cared about each other so much, even called themselves a family by episode 3 or 4. The show needed Abby and Athena for their respective perspective as dispatcher/cop, but they weren't integral parts of the firefam (yet).

For Athena that obviously changed quickly when she started hanging out with the 118 more and dating Bobby, they're married now and Athena is no longer just one of Hen's closest friends, she's family to all of them.

Abby didn't leave that big a hole because she was only really connected to Buck and no-one else in the first place. Other characters had scenes with her, but she was always there as Buck's girlfriend. The show needs one main character at dispatch, but that didn't have to be Abby. She was replaceable.

In season 2 we got two new main characters that weren't established members of the found family (yet), kind of like we had Abby and Athena in season 1.

Maddie was immediately connected to Buck of course, but then she also got together with Chimney (another main character) and they became a family as well, she has a handful of lovely scenes with Athena and the Wilson-Han family bonds are stronger now than ever. She is integrated into the firefam, her role as dispatcher is important and she's being played by thee JLH which makes her existence in the show load-bearing and basically irreplaceable.

[Side note: Everybody who has been following me for a bit probably knows I'm not exactly a Maddie fan - personally I wish she was written a little more active than reactive, a little more flawed instead of "crying white woman who suffers more than Jesus Christ himself" (I'm exaggerating to bring across my point) - but objectively speaking I know that Maddie is a perfectly normal character on a show that has much bigger issues and that doesn't change just because I personally find her annyoing. I get why the show needs her and why other fans like her.]

Which makes me ask again though, what does Eddie bring to the table? It's nice to have him, sure. I like all the Diaz family dynamics. I love Christopher. The friendship between Eddie and Buck is amazing. Buck's and Chris' relationship will always be special to me. I like Eddie and his weird ass drama. Does the show need him though?

To go with the "bigger picture" metaphor - it's like the show is one big picture and Eddie is a smaller picture that hangs on the same wall. It has its own frame and exists separately, it can be taken down or to a different floor of the museum without destroying either of the pictures. Walk with me:

On a meta level we just have to be realistic. Ryan Guzman is not a name that will draw a crowd like the names "Jennifer Love Hewitt", "Angela Bassett" or "Peter Krause" do. If people know him at all from previous projects then they'll either know him as Jennifer Lopez' eye candy or as that guy who was in one of those dance movies. (I wanna add here that I actually watched Step Up Miami Heat a few times as a teenager, it's a guilty pleasure movie for me that I come back to every now and then and I didn't even realise it was the same guy until somebody else told me.) So yeah, he's an okay actor and I'm sure he's a nice person (or maybe he's not, idk and idc about the actors that much), but I don't think a lot of people started to watch 911 because they found out their favourite superstar Ryan Guzman was in it.

As for Eddie in his function as a firefighter/army medic: We already have 2 firefighters and we already have 2 paramedics at the 118. Eddie is just extra. No disrespect, but we never needed him the way we need a Maddie to man dispatch or like we need an Athena for the police's perspective. The firefighter/paramedic front was already more than well covered.

So, we don't need him for the actor's star power or the character's unique career, what about personal relationships? Eddie's not particularly close to anyone in the firefam other than Buck whereas everyone else has multiple close connections. His friendship with Bobby is there I guess, but it's only shown in one scene every other season or so. I'd put it in the same category as the Maddie&Athena friendship. Heartwarming and nice to have, not integral to the show though. Nobody watches the show just because they love this friendship in particular so much. Eddie has very casual friendships with Hen and Chimney where they exchange banter or gossip here and there when they all sit in the truck together, but I don't remember many (if any) really meaningful scenes between them. To this day I don't think Eddie ever had scenes with Maddie or Athena at all.

Then there's the fact that next to none of his story lines are connected to the 118. All the other characters have had impactful story lines concerning their job at the 118 itself or their personal drama really involved other main characters. [I got side tracked thinking about this, but I don't want to derail the main train of thought too much here, so I put this part under the cut.*]

The Texas arc, beginning with Kim entering the stage in 7x07 and up until 8x13, only proved once again how disconnected Eddie is from the other main characters.

I don't think anybody except Buck knows what happened between Eddie and Christopher or at least nobody mentioned it. Nobody mentioned the break-up between Eddie and Marisol or Kim's existence either. Not even Eddie really talks about Marisol, nor Kim or Shannon for that matter. He is very focused on his son which, you know, fair enough. But moving to Texas, confronting his parents, stepping up as an actual parental authority again (instead of being a bit of a pushover because he's scared to mess up again) is only treating the symptoms, not the cause. The reason all of this happened in the first place is the Shannon-Marisol-Kim disaster and that hasn't been adressed at all by anyone.

Anyway. None of the other main characters were involved in the love triangle (square?) doppelgänger mess and even Buck took a very passive role here where Eddie told him about what was happening, but he didn't do much. Christopher hasn't interacted with Buck at all in season 8 which feels strange considering he was still willing to talk to Buck immediately after he walked in on Eddie and Kim and Buck was there when Christopher left - all in all they were still very close only one season ago. Now Buck is worried about Eddie, but he doesn't talk about missing Christopher. Not to Eddie or Maddie or Tommy.

Then Eddie moved. He's been in Texas for a while now and Buck has expressed that he misses his best friend, but he doesn't seem to be struggling that much to be honest. Before the move he was mostly upset because it seemed like Eddie didn't care, but they cleared up that misunderstanding. After the move it took him one episode to get over it. In the meantime he's getting closer to Ravi, spends time with his sister, still has fun with his job, settles into his new house - yes, he misses Eddie, it was an adjustment, but he's doing fine without him. They still talk to each other, phones exist. But Buck is okay and nobody else really mentions Eddie.

In comparison: When Chimney left in season 5 to get Maddie back everybody was affected. Eddie suddenly worked medical calls, Hen got snappy with Eddie because they hadn't found their rhythm yet, Buck blamed himself and thought about leaving the 118, Ravi had to step up because he wasn't just the new probie anymore, Bobby had to manage that entire mess and vented to Athena.

Eddie left to get Chris back, Ravi replaced him, even Buck got over it within a single episode. More at eleven. You see the difference?

Conclusion: Eddie is replaceable, you could argue that he doesn't even need replacing since there are still four other main characters working at the 118 who are also all friends with each other. When you pay a little attention it's obvious how disconnected Eddie is from the other characters, even Buck sometimes who shares emotional conversations with Eddie, but isn't always an active participant in Eddie's story lines. I don't like this, I'm not sitting here gloating that "my favourite character is superior", I'm just observing this and it's sad. I usually enjoy Eddie's story lines even when the writing could be better (see Texas arc), I see a lot of potential in his character, I spent the better part of 2023 reading Buddie fanfiction mostly from his perspective. But this insistence that "Eddie completes the firefamily" or that it's "just not the same without him" is more than a little exaggerated. The show is exactly the same without Eddie. It's almost funny how god damn unbothered everybody is by Eddie's absence. How did the Texas arc not make that clear?

*On the career themed story lines:

Chim was feeling like Bobby favours Buck which resulted in a bigger fight, a horrific car crash and the first moment where anybody actually said out loud that the 118 is a familly. He later had his turn as Interim Captain where we saw that while he does have a lot of experience and has been at the 118 the longest, he might not want to be Captain in the long run. As we learn a few seasons later, he could very well be cut out to become an instructor at the academy though, proving leadership qualities in a different way.

Hen had her med school arc and while that didn't lead to anything, it did emphasise and confirm for her that she is exactly where she wants and needs to be. She was also instated as Interim Captain several times which showed that she is Captain material and might take over a station at some point.

Buck was kept from his job and had a whole identity crisis about it in season 3, later "Buck Begins" sort of confirmed that after a lot of searching he found the job that is exactly right for him. In season 6 he was wondering if he could make Captain one day himself and in that season finale got a chance to prove that he can not only work under extreme pressure, he can lead under those same circumstances, too. (It was sadly a very short scene and we haven't seen "potential Captain Buck" since, but the point stands and the idea is out there.)

Bobby had to learn to trust his team so they could trust him in return back in season 1, a theme they also picked up again in "Bobby Begins Again" where he started settling in and making the team into, well, a team instead of just co-workers. We've seen him fighting to stay their Captain both in season 2 and recently in 8a.

Eddie on the other hand quit the 118 during his season 5 breakdown arc, but it wasn't about the job, it was about Chrsitopher. Then he had to extend his time away from active duty because of his ptsd. He never thinks about advancing in his career (everybody else either was Interim Captain at one point or at least showed interest in it) or tries anything else unless he sees himself forced to do it for Christopher. I don't think he even is officially a paramedic. Similar to Hen's med school arc it probably wouldn't really change anything because he's usually paired with Buck and he already (occasionally) works medical calls anyway, but (similar to Hen's med school arc) it would at least give him something to do and show that he is generally invested in his career. I haven't seen "Eddie Begins" in a while, but does that episode give us a moment where Eddie truly finds his calling as a firefighter like the others did? I don't think so, we just got two lines or so about "missing the camaraderie, seemed worth the shot" in season 2.

On to the "personal" stuff. Do any of Eddie's big story lines have any impact on the firefam?

Eddie's love life is a mess. Season 2 was all about Shannon and their marriage and the others gossiped a little about it, but what difference does it make to the firefam who Eddie is dating? None of Eddie's love interests ever have any connection to the other family members whereas the other couples are a) both main characters or b) in Buck's case do often have connections to the others. Abby was a main character who wasn't close to the 118, but still shared a lot of scenes with them. Taylor showed up on calls, had her own story lines when she investigated stuff, asked Bobby about Christmas presents, had dinners with Buck that involved other characters like Albert or Eddie. Tommy of course was good friends with Eddie and Chim, but also acquainted with Bobby, Athena and Hen. Even Veronica who only had one date with Buck then turned out to be his neighbour and dated Albert for a while.

Other than Buck I don't think anybody ever really had scenes with Eddie's love interests and even Buck barely met those women as far as I remember. Eddie talks about Ana and Marisol, sure, but do they interact with Buck much?

Then Eddie of course has story lines about being a (single) father, but somehow he always ends up talking to Buck about this instead of literally any of his friends who actually have children of their own. Denny and Harry are shown to be friends, but despite being about Denny's age, Christopher doesn't have scenes with them outside of that one season 3 Christmas episode. Only Buck ever babysits Christopher for Eddie. Recently even Buck hasn't had anything to do with Chris. He coached Eddie through some parenting decisions, but he doesn't have contact to Chris at all. Neither Chris nor Buck express that they miss each other or anything.

There's Eddie's fight club era which ended after one heart to heart with Bobby, but mostly affected his and Lena's friendship who, again, is a character who was Eddie's friend but barely had scenes with the other mains. This is connected to the fight he had with Buck of course, but while Buck's absence and the lawsuit impacted the entire family who picked sides or felt the tension in the firehouse, Eddie's personal issues with Buck are between the two of them. There are raised eye brows during that supermarket fight, but that's it.

He had the shooting story line and while the other characters worried about Eddie of course, it was Buck who was with him when it happened, Buck who took care of Christopher, Buck who rushed to the hospital when Eddie woke up, Buck who picked him up from the hospital and had a heart to heart with him, etc. The other characters existed in the vicinity of this story line, but only Buck was really in it with Eddie. Compare that to when Buck was struck by lightning. Every single main character had emotional scenes with Buck in that story line.

Eddie eventually started dating again and, once more, this was casual gossip fodder in the firehouse, but it was Eddie's aunt who had an actual, serious conversation with him.

The season 7 stuff is part of the Texas story line for me, so I'm not getting into that again.

[charlie-rulerofhell]

These times to come

This all started with @bad-system's post about Henry affiliating with the Hussites in a possible third game, and the dawning realisation that yes, the Hussite Wars being the grand finale of KCD is actually a quite probable scenario, and yes, it would put our boys on the two opposing ends of this conflict.

You have been warned. (I'll spoil you that much: no character death in this story. Doesn't mean no hearts getting slaughtered, though.)

I

When Hanush stormed into his study, Hans was reading, or so it seemed. The book lay open on the table in front of him, flickering candle light illuminating the thin, fading letters just enough against the darkness that gloomed outside. His eyes were rushing across the parchment like a swarm of wasps, hec­tic and fast, and just like wasps, they couldn't understand the words that they touched. His mind was wandering elsewhere, and yet this elsewhere was still too dreadful for his thoughts to acknowledge it properly. It can't be, was the only thing they brought forth occasionally. They must be wrong. How could they not? It can't be.

Whatever hope for doubt there was got shattered when Ha­nush flung the letter down on the table, with such force that it left a cut as thin as a hair where it hit Hans's outstretched hand. Hanush didn't say anything, but his breath was heavy and hoarse. He didn't need to talk. Everything he could have said was explained in the letter, and even that letter wasn't neces­sary, because Hans knew already. But it can't be, his mind screamed one final time, helplessly, hopelessly, then it gave up. It was. The wasps had landed on the letter, and they had finally found a sentence that they could understand. Radzig Kobyla's bastard, they read, in Prague, conspiring with the Hussites.

“Read it.”

Hans's eyes slid over to the window, behind which the world was collapsing in on itself, dripping from the rain like carelessly applied paint on a wall.

“Or read it not then.”

“There's no need to.��� His own voice was hard to recognise, it could have just as well been the wind howling in the cracks of the walls, had the words not burned in his throat.

“So you know already.”

“I found out this morning.”

“How? Did he tell you?”

Hans didn't reply. It hurt too much. In his throat, he tried to convince himself.

“He didn't then.” Hanush took a step back, turned away, hands pressed into his sides, as if he had just ran up all the stairs of Pirkstein thrice, robbing him of all the breath he had in him. He proved this supposition wrong immediately. “For fuck's sake!” His voice was so loud that it echoed from the walls like a bell. “How many people in this godforsaken country know about it already?”

“Not too many, I reckon.” Against Hanush's bellowing screams, Hans's words were not much more than a breath of wind.

“Well I sure hope so!” Hanush spun around again, his finger slamming down on the letter as if he wanted Hans to look, just look God damn it, but Hans's eyes were still fixed on the window pane, where the world melted into ugly splashes of varying greys. “Radzig Ko­byla's bastard! Knight of the house of Leipa! Siding with the enemy!”

Hans swallowed, and it hurt but not in his throat, Christ, he couldn't even feel his throat anymore, couldn't feel his face or his hands either, only his chest and the sting in it. “Seems like he has made a decision.”

“But he had no right to ever make this decision!”

“If he feels like this is the more sensible battle to fight in, then he will go for it, there is no stopping him, he is a free man, he will –“

“But he isn't!” A noise tore through the air, as Hanush gripped the letter so harshly that it ripped, only to throw it back down a moment later. This time it caught the candle flame on its way and tumbled to the ground like a shot-down bird. “Fucking hell, he isn't! He has never been! But you, you always felt the need to treat him as one. And now all of us have to lie in this shit-covered bed that you have made!” Hanush leaned in closer now, close enough for Hans to smell his breath and the stench of way too much wine in it. His voice was quieter when he spoke again, nothing more than a threatening hiss. “He is your vassal, Hans. So bring your disloyal dog to heel. Before someone mistakes him for a wolf and cuts his treache­rous head off.”

* * *

Heinrich swung the wooden sword around as if it was a bur­ning stick with the most detestable insect dangling from its end. He would blame the heavy rain for it if his friends asked him about it, or the clothes that were just a little too big for him still, or perhaps the cawing of the crows that had distracted him, he always found an excuse. It was a miracle, Hans pondered, how a boy could be so skilled with a needle or a chisel or even a forging hammer, and yet so ungifted with something as simple as a sword.

Hans shivered, the cold creeping under his pourpoint, biting into his skin. He blinked quickly a few times against the rain drops that got stuck in his lashes, and for a while the grey��ness of late autumn vanished in front of his eyes and gave room to lush summer sun, so bright that he was convinced he could feel the warmth on his skin. The vision seemed as real as a dream often did, and it had been real once, more than ten years ago. Jitka sitting on a chair in the middle of the grass, a servant had carried it outside for her. She was leaning over the back rest, one hand pressed to the roundness of her belly, her eyes were closed, her face seemingly at ease for someone who didn't know her as well as Hans did. He had been watching her closely during his training fight with Henry, as if that could keep it from happening. A part of him – a big part, that was – was scared for her, since he knew damn well what giving birth could do to a woman. Another, even bigger part was scared for himself.

The sword hit his shoulder, ever so lightly, not to harm, only to bring him back to reality. “What's that long face about?” Henry laughed. He had the fucking guts to laugh! “You'll be a father soon! That's some cause for celebration, eh?”

“Celebration?” Hans glanced over to Jitka, hoping he hadn't squeaked out the word loud enough for her to hear, or that if he had at least she wouldn't notice the repulsion in it. Cautiously, he lowered his voice as he continued. “What is to be celebrated about this? It's more like this child has already tied an iron chain around my ankles. I can feel it dragging me down to the bottom of the river!”

“This is a gift, you know, not some cruel divine punish­ment.” He laughed again, the fucker. “And let me tell you this, from bastard to becoming father: A child doesn't even have to change anything, if you do not want it to. You might as well give it over to a wet nurse, and talk to it once every other week if that's what you prefer.”

Hans let his sword cut through the air, metal hit metal, a spark broke away from their blades. His skin felt as if it was on fire, too, and the air was filled with the smell of sun-burned grass, blending in with marigold and sweat. “But that's just the thing, I do not prefer! I had the pleasure,” he spat the word out like ve­nom, reinforcing the meaning with another blow of the sword, “of growing up without parents. I won't let my children suffer the same fate.” Henry blocked the stroke, followed it up with a quick aim for the upper thigh that Hans parried lazily before letting his shoulders sink down. “It's just that I don't feel ready for it yet, either.”

The smile that Henry gave him was warmer than the sum­mer sun and way more pleasant. “You won't be alone in this, you know? Jitka will be a wonderful mother, I'm sure of that. And I will keep a close eye on little Heinrich as well. Or on Henriette.” His mouth twisted to a crooked smirk. “Although I have to admit, I'm wishing more for a boy. I could teach him some things on the anvil, so that one day, when he grows tired of politics, he can just run off and become a smith. Like his fa­ther.”

It had to be a joke, a half one at least, but it sounded so sin­cere that Hans just couldn't hold back the soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “A child with a mother and two fa­thers?”

“Stranger things have happened.”

Hans closed his eyes and shook his head in disbelief, and then he stepped forward and lowered his voice once more, while his left hand, covered in a thin leather glove, found its way to Henry's shoulder. “You don't need to do this, you know that. This is my child, my blood, my responsibility. Not yours.”

“You are my responsibility.” Henry brought his free hand up, placing it on Hans's, their fingers intertwining, and, God, after all this time this one simple touch still seemed to lift all the weight of his sorrows off Hans's chest. “And so is Jitka, by ex­tension, and so is this child. I wasn't of Martin's blood either, yet he was the one who raised me, the one who called me son. I don't see why that has to be any different with this one.”

Heinrich screamed as he hit himself with the training sword. The summer sun disappeared, the warmth, the smell of grass and flowers and sweat, the sight of Jitka, her hand resting on the unborn boy. Here he was, right in front of him on the prac­tice ground, and everything was different, every sweet word uttered all these years ago twisted into a lie. Because Henry wasn't really to Heinrich what Martin had been to him, or may­be Martin hadn't been that either, who knew. Hans's children weren't truly Henry's, and every hug, every kiss on the fore­head, every lesson at the forge and every bedtime story hadn't kept him from running off to pursue his own goals. Not giving a fuck that he was putting the whole house of Leipa in danger, Hans and Jitka and the children, his responsibilities, as he had called them once, but the word felt like a mockery now. May­be, Hans thought bitterly, blood was truly running thicker than anything else. Maybe, in the end, Henry had more of Radzig Kobyla in him than he himself believed or wished.

There were footsteps approaching, softly placed but still distinguishable from the rain. Jitka came to a halt next to him, lea­ning over the balustrade of the training ground just as he did, and for a brief moment he could have sworn that there was a round belly underneath her poppy-red dress, but it had just been the memory, clawing itself out of the pits of Hans's mind one last desperate time, before he banished it for good. Jitka didn't look at him, but she didn't say anything either, and there was a sadness in her eyes. So she knew.

Hans allowed himself one final deep breath before he uttered the inevitable. “I will be going to Prague.”

“Prague?” She laughed as if surprised but it sounded shal­low. She had always been a smart woman, sharp with her wits and words, but never with her lies. “What business does the Lord of Rattay have over there in sacred Prague, and in these troubled times no less?”

“My visit is concerning the Hussites.”

She nodded. The feigned smile faded completely, the sad­ness returned stronger than before, but not because of the truth this time, but because he lied. “It's concerning him.”

Hans didn't reply because it wasn't necessary. They watched Heinrich for a while, as he fumbled around ineptly with his wooden sword. The boy's movements had become even more sluggish now, though not from exhaustion. He was listening, and of course he wouldn't let them know just yet, hoped to keep his parents in ignorance just a bit longer, so that they would conti­nue their conversation. Only later would he come running to his father and whine about his departure, perhaps he would even wait until tonight when Hans was already tired and worn out from the day's pre­parations. He was almost as smart as his mother, that little brat.

“He is acting foolishly!” Hans sighed suddenly, and, at first, he wasn't even entirely sure who he was talking about. “I have to go and see him myself, bring him back to his senses some­how.”

Jitka laughed, but there was no happiness in her laughter, only bitter valerian and sharp steel. “Well, good luck then. You will need it.” She turned to go back to the city, arms wrapped tightly around her chest, against the cold, or so Hans hoped. Then she stopped again after a few steps, faced him once more. “This is Henry of Skalitz we are talking about.” Her voice was loud and clear against the rain, and heavy from concern and despair. “No one can bring this man to his senses, Hans, as long as he doesn't will it himself. Not even you.”

II

It was almost ironical, how close their hideout was to the royal castle. A promise to themselves, a reminder of what was to come, a threat to their enemies, had they been smart enough to actually find them.

Or dumb enough, really. It had only taken Hans half a day to do so. For a few hours he had wandered around the city, asking whoever seemed dubious enough to not get him or Henry into any further danger, and even then he hid his true intentions and identity well. As well as he could, that was. He just hoped that the hood of the cheap, grey woolen coat he was wearing co­vered his face enough as to not invite anyone to ask questions about why his skin was this smooth and neatly shaven or why his hair was shining and smelling of roses. Maybe he should have visited Trosky again, for old times' sake, and asked them to cover him in shit once more. That might have done the trick.

The sun had started to set and Hans had relocated his search to the local taverns. Just to one, in fact, because it was there that he stumbled across Kubyenka, of all people. Under diffe­rent circumstances, Hans would have been brimming with joy about finding that old drunkard still alive and thriving, but this night all he managed was a soft smile and a nod. Kubyenka, on the other hand, had turned into a waterfall of talk and emotion, and in the span of only one beer, he had told Hans everything that he needed to know and even offered to accompany him to their hideout him­self.

The first person Hans had met there was Godwin. Of course. He couldn't even tell why it surprised him. Their conversation was reduced to the briefest formalities, a few questions about Hans's family's well-being, and some quick chitchat about the Prague weather. Then they both reached the limits of what little they were comfortable with sharing, and followed it up with a long and unpleasant silence. At last, Godwin stepped forward and wrapped his arms around him, held him for a while, and it felt just like back then, like reassurance before a battle, like the attempt of a final goodbye, should everything go to shit. It was nice. Needed. When they finally parted again, Hans took a deep breath and prepared for the worst. “You know why I'm really here.”

“I do. But he's gone. Went out with Žižka.”

“When will he back?”

“Tonight? Tomorrow? God knows, the two of them always get caught up in something.”

“I will wait then. And if it takes a whole week. I will wait.”

He didn't have to wait for a week. It might have been shortly past midnight, when the door was pushed open and two pairs of booted feet stormed inside, their steps elated, almost floating. Hans couldn't see them from where he was sitting alone in the neighbouring room, but the sound of Henry's walk was enough for him to know that it was him, and to make his heart ache even more terribly than in the last few days and weeks before.

“Godwin!” The deep voice that would usually soothe every nerve in his body now made his hands shake from cold sweat, and Hans tucked them more tightly under his armpits, to re­main as steadfast in his position on the edge of the table as he possibly could. “You won't believe it, but we actually con­vinced them! They will –“

Henry looked like a man that had stumbled out of a merry bathhouse straight into his executioner. Whatever bright smile had been visible in the short moment when he entered the room, vanished within the blink of an eye. His mouth opened like that of a stranded fish, unable to form any words. The shock on his face made Hans realise how much older he had grown. Not just in the past weeks that they hadn't seen each other, but in the decade that lay behind them. Had the wrinkles next to his eyes always been this deep? And were those some grey strands of hair on his temples, reflecting the candle light like molten silver? They hadn't been there before, Hans thought, when he had dragged Henry away from Pirkstein into the woods, just after his accolade, but then again, that before had been ten years ago now, a moment preserved in time like a marble stature when their lives had still belonged to each other, and now the politics and plays of power rampaging around them seemed to have cut all ties loose from that stature with one sharp swing of an axe, had the sweet before shattered on the ground. Reality had caught up with them. Was about time, he mused bitterly, we had been lucky for way too long.

Žižka took one step into the room after Henry, stopped dead once he noticed Hans, raised both his eyebrows, and turned on his heel without a second thought. Hans could hear him walk away, but not very far. He would stay close enough to listen carefully to every word they spoke, Hans was aware of that, and he couldn't have cared less about it.

It was Henry who first broke the silence, still standing right in front of the door, as far away from Hans as he could, and yet it felt not fucking far enough. “You shouldn't be here.”

Hans shrugged his shoulders and felt the shiver return. “I could say the same thing about you. This battle is not the battle of the house of Leipa. And you belong to the house of Leipa.”

“I belong to Žižka.” There was a flicker of confusion still in Henry's voice and in the way his eyes wandered around the room as if he was expecting some wondrous explanation to the man sitting in front of him. “I have been fighting for him for years now, and you know it, you always knew.” He fell silent for a while, his eyes locked on Hans, and Hans wished they hadn't. They were dark, as dark as the night sky, with no trace of the usual blue left in them. It's just the dim light in this room, he told himself, but even the dimness couldn't be responsible for the anger that burned in them, the repulsion. “I belong to my father, who has been fighting on the very same side for all this time.” His words were louder now, too, firmer, hammering in a truth that Hans was aware of and that Henry had no right to speak. “I belong to myself. And to my own believes.”

“You belong to me!” Christ, he knew himself how desperate he sounded. “You swore an oath.”

Henry nodded slowly. It seemed like he was swallowing, but Hans couldn't tell for the life of him whether he was swallowing down sadness or hatred. “You want the sword back? Fine, take it. I have many more.”

“This is not about the sword, Henry!” He rose from the table a little but stayed leaned against it, because his legs felt too weak to properly carry him. “It's not about the knighthood! It's about the oath that you swore to me, to me alone.” Loud fiddles and lutes and drums, the smell of wine and burned meat, the movement of too many feet twirling around in cir­cles. He had taken Henry's hand and pulled him away, away from the celebration, away from the city, down the castle hill and into the woods, to where they were alone, to where they could speak their own oath, an oath that exceeded that of a knight to his lord. “That you would protect me, and I swore that I would protect you, that we would fight side by side until our dying breath.”

“What, against everything that is just?” Henry moved now, stretched out his arms while he was speaking, and it made him seem even broader than he was, intimidating almost, in a way that Hans had never known from him before. “You think that because of a few love-drunken words that we spoke some ten years ago, I am supposed to simply disregard everything I stand by? Is that what you want? To always fight by your side, as long as it only is your side that we fight on! Besides, if I re­call correctly, we both spoke that oath to each other, didn't we? And you broke yours a long time ago.”

“What?”

“You signed that treaty with Petr of Šternberk, even though I advised you not to.”

“Because it was the right thing to do!” His voice cracked, and he detested the sound of it. “The right thing for my people, for the whole of Rattay, for my family.”

“Maybe, but not for me. Not for my people.”

There was a time once, Hans thought, when my people were your people, when my family was yours, too. He didn't say it. It didn't matter now, because Henry was right. No knighthood and no bastard blood could have ever changed that. He let him­self sink back down on the table with a sigh. “You could have at least told me about it.”

“You knew.” Another truth Hans didn't want to hear, every single one feeling like another nail being driven into his out­stretched hands and feet. “You knew it since the day I rode out the Rattay gates and didn't return.”

“But you could have said something. Just one word. Instead of sneaking away like a thief.”

“You would have never let me leave.”

“No!” He brought his hands down, clasped them into fists, and for a moment he was certain there would have to be blood pouring out between his fingers. “No, I fucking wouldn't have! You think I want you to fight on the enemy's side?”

“The Hussites' side. And their cause is just. The church has too much power, and so has nobility. This world isn't ruled by the hearts and wits of people, it's ruled by coin and status alone, and the rulings are enforced with sharp steel and flaming stakes!” Henry talked himself into a rage now, pacing up and down the room like a dog in a cage. “An opposing tongue gets cut out and burned to ash on a pyre. And it's always us, the peo­ple, the peasants, who have to suffer under the nobility's and the church's political chess game.” He paused then, staring at Hans as if the dog had smelled its prey. “I heard you were good at chess, Lord Capon.” The mocking title hurt more than every word before, more than every truth. The lance piercing his side, a final kiss of death. “So tell me. It is the pawns who get sacri­ficed first, isn't it?”

“But you are no pawn! You are the knight, my knight, I knighted you.”

A bitter laugh escaped Henry's throat. “In a foolish act of twisting me into something that I've never been.”

“That doesn't matter, Henry.” He stood up from the table once more, and this time his legs weren't giving in, his hands weren't shaking. The deathblow had been dealt, there was no­thing left to fear, and Hans could sense his own anger rising up in his stomach, burning so hot that it set his throat ablaze. “You are my vassal now. Do you know what my uncle called me when he found out about all this? Weak. Not just because I let you run off and join the enemy's forces, but because of all those years. Because I never punished you for speaking up against me, because you never had to face any consequences for every insult that you threw my way. I treated you as an equal. And you did the same, and that's what held us together.”

“If you truly see me as an equal, then I don't understand why you're here.” He turned his face away, looked at the dusty car­pets on the wall instead, but Hans could tell that something in his expression had shifted. “You chose your side, now I'm choosing mine. And if you ever knew me at all, you'd know that I couldn't possibly choose anything else. Bread for the people, wine for the clergy? Wine for you, while we crawl in the dirt to your feet, picking up the crumbs that you throw us!”

It was unfair because he spoke the truth again, but it was a twisted one. Hans wasn't Sigismund, wasn't the Pope, he was Hans, and this here was about them, not some bigger societal conflict, just the two of them. “I don't care about wine and bread, Henry, I don't care about this bloody chess game, I care about you!”

“Then try to understand what I care about!”

“But when has that stopped being me?” He choked on his own words, a tear running down his cheek that he hadn't even felt coming up. It was a pathetic thing to say, to think even, but it was the truth. Not Henry's destructive truth of nails and lan­ces. His own truth of a pain that he couldn't hide anyway. “You swore an oath.”

For a long while the hissing of the flames and the autumn wind outside the house was the only sound between them. Hans couldn't even hear Henry breathe, and he couldn't see it either. He wasn't moving, his chest wasn't heaving, his eyes were still fixed to the carpets as if they held all the wisdom of this world. When he finally turned his head and spoke again, something in him had changed once more, and this time so much so that Hans couldn't even recognise him. The blue seemed to have fully disappeared from his eyes, and there was a foreign hardness to his voice that Hans had never heard be­fore. This must be how he looks and talks when he is facing someone that he is about to kill, Hans thought. When facing the enemy. “That oath was sworn ten years ago, my lord. Time moved on, I did, too, only you didn't. You are still that scared, little boy who is too afraid of what the world might think or say about him, who is hiding himself in his books of aventiures, waiting for a knight in shining armour to rescue him. Keep on waiting then. I am not that knight.”

Hans wanted to answer. He couldn't. His mouth opened but the only thing escaping were sobs and cries. A scared, little boy, nothing more.

“You can take your sword back, I do not need it. And I do not wish to fight with it either. You should also tell Šternberk and your other allies that I am, indeed, a traitor. That I have acted on my own, without your knowing, that I have broken my oath and will henceforth be considered an enemy to the crown, including the house of Leipa, and that I will be declared an outlaw to the whole of the country.”

“Henry …” Barely a whisper.

Henry didn't seem to have heard it, or he simply didn't care. “Will you remember that? I know, these kinds of political de­clarations have never been a strength of yours. I could write it down for you if you wish.” He waited briefly for a reply that Hans could never give, nodded then and turned as if looking for something. “I will get some parchment.”

“That won't be necessary.” Hans stood up. He didn't know where the strength was coming from. Maybe from the fact that he was already dead. Only a dead man could feel such emptiness in his soul. “I will remember those words. I will remember them clearly.” He put one foot forward, then the other one. Strange how the dead could walk. When he passed by Henry, he stopped for a brief moment, and felt the word “Farewell” creep over his lips. There were other words in his chest, too. My friend. My love. They wouldn't come.

* * *

As soon as the door closed behind Hans, Henry broke down like a tree hit by lightning. He didn't even feel his knees hitting the hard wood of the floorboards, but when he bent forward, curling up, arms clenching his stomach, his forehead touched the ground. He had to press a fist to his mouth to muffle his crying, didn't want Žižka and Godwin and the others to hear, and more importantly Hans, should he still be close by.

Žižka and Godwin of course heard it anyway. They walked into the room together, he could hear their footsteps, and even that couldn't stop him from crying like a child. A hand touched his back, Godwin's clearly, it was soothing, encouraging, the touch of a father.

They gave him time, both of them, neither one said a word, they just watched in silence and understanding. When Henry finally found the strength to push himself up to a kneeling po­sition, he could see the looks they regarded him with, sympa­thetic but not pitying. He tried to wipe the tears away with the ball of his hand. They kept on coming like the plague. “What have I done,” he breathed out finally. “God forgive me, what have I done?”

“You followed your heart,” Godwin answered, his hand still resting on Henry's back, as if he feared that Henry would just collapse in on himself again if he took it away. “You acted out of the deepest love. There is nothing God has to forgive here.”

He shook his head, couldn't believe it, didn't want to believe it. “How could this possibly be love? Love is supposed to build you up and give you strength. Not cripple you.”

“And it did just that. To you. It made you strong. You could have never spoken these words if it weren't for love.”

“I hurt him, Godwin. I slaughtered him.”

“You did the right thing.” Even Žižka's voice sounded hoarse, and he turned away towards the candle on the table, right next to where Hans had been sitting just moments ago. “Capon was never going to join us. Or maybe he would have tried to, but in the end the word of a nobleman is fickle, with all their personal power plays and intrigues going on. We can only rely on allies who fully support our cause.”

“And I would never have allowed him to break his alliances and bring himself into danger like that.” Henry wiped his face again. The cries had stopped, but the tears were still coming, as if something in that conversation had driven a pickaxe straight into his heart and opened a well of sadness in it. Not some­thing, he realised. His very own words. “Hans was right. I swore an oath. And I will see to it until the day I die.”

“Well, I'm glad you did it.” Godwin offered him a hand, and Henry took it, let the priest pull him to his feet with way too much strength for his old age, and yet so much less than when they first met. “I like the lad. When all of this here goes to shit, at least we know that he will be out there somewhere, raising his children, drinking some fine wine, fucking wenches.”

“Will he though?” Henry shook his head again, and it made him so dizzy that he was glad Godwin was still holding onto him. “I broke him, Godwin. I broke his heart.”

“It was inevitable.” Žižka was now standing just where Hans had stood, and it felt almost sacrilegious to hear his voice co­ming from where Hans had spoken and begged and cried. “The sooner you broke his heart, the better.”

He was right, Henry was aware of that. But no army in the world could have forced him to admit it. “I will go out,” he declared instead. “I need to clear my head for a bit.”

“Where will you go?”

“Out of the city,” Henry replied, already on his way to the door, avoiding Žižka's worried look. “Into the woods. Hunting maybe. It might take a while.”

III

Henry had followed the Šárecký potok to the east for a while, staying close to the river as it offered a clearing in the more tree-covered areas, allowing him to see the path he was trea­ding despite the late nighttime. The walk felt good, offered his body something to do and his mind a distraction, because he didn't want to think right now. All thoughts led back to the same thing anyway, running around in circles that were tightening more and more until they felt like a noose around his neck. Hans in that grey beggar's coat on the edge of the table. Can­dlelight making the tears in his eyes shimmer like glowing em­bers. You are still that scared little boy, hiding himself in his books of aventiures. And he had looked just like a boy then, his eyes big as plates, his bottom lip quivering, scared and hurt and alone, and to know that Hans only felt this way because of him. When has that stopped being me?, and Henry had wanted to scream at him that it hadn't, that it never would, that even when their ways parted, Hans would always be there by his side. The memories of a lifetime shared, the hope to what could be again one day, the feeling of being so utterly loved. His lord's wreath wrapped around his jousting lance, protecting him in the tour­ney. Henry shook the thought off and focused on his footsteps again. Sword duels and even bohorts he could get into, but he had never understood the fuss about jousting.

When clouds started covering the whole sky, conceiling the light of the moon, he sought out a place to his left, where the ground lifted up into rugged mountains. He found a rock that reached out far enough to form a small overhang, and sat down underneath it, pulling his knees up to his chest against the cold, and Mutt rolled up next to him, his body pressing against Hen­ry's, lending him warmth and protection.

Henry didn't notice the moment the exhaustion became too much to bear, and how it turned into sleep shortly after. Only that suddenly he found himself on a battlefield, surrounded by shrieking screams and the stench of death, his skin hot from fire and wet from blood. And there were his parents kneeling on the ground, both their bodies sliced open, right above the heart, and his mother's eyes found his, sad, broken, disappoin­ted. "How could you do this to us, Henry," she whispered, and he could hear her words ringing in his ears like a hammer despite all the noise of the battle. "How could you leave us here to die?" He wanted to get closer to her, but he couldn't, his legs weren't moving, as if they had got stuck in vines, and when he looked down he saw that it were hands holding him, arms sticking out of the ground, the arms of soldiers and bandits and thugs, and the gloved hand of Ištván, the white armour of Erik, the black one of Markvart, women's hands, too, his wife's, his daughters'. "I'm doing this for you," Henry screamed, and he wasn't sure if anyone could hear him, anyone but the dead. "Can't you see that I'm doing all of this for you?"

He woke up in cold sweat, the weight of their hands still tearing on his legs, and it took him a while to realise that it was only the rain that had soaked the fabric of his hose. The sun had risen, the clouds had torn open to shower the world in sweet-smelling autumn rain, albeit just a little. The nightmare was still mingling with reality, and for a brief moment he could feel something he hadn't dreamed of, something warm and comforting. A hand caressing his shoulder, a warm breath on his cheek, followed by a kiss, then a forehead pressing against his temple. "It was just a dream, Henry." He couldn't even tell which memory his mind had dug up because this had happened so many times, always the touches and the kisses and the re­assuring words, it was a miracle Hans never got tired of it. "It wasn't real, yes? This is real. I am real. Can you feel this kiss? And this one? That is real."

Henry turned his head and stared into empty space. Liar, he thought bitterly. Not real at all.

It was only when he finally managed to stretch out his numb limbs and crawl out of his night's hiding spot, that he noticed that Mutt was gone. He couldn't be far, Henry knew that, every possible cause for that old dog ever leaving him would have clearly woken him up. Maybe he was hunting. Or trying to, that was. Mutt's sight had been lacking for a while now, and his left hind leg had a limp that made it impossible for him to catch anything faster than a hedgehog.

“Mutt?” There was a bark nearby, a little bit further up the hillside, and Henry waited for a while but Mutt didn't seem to come to him. Maybe he had hunted something and didn't want to leave it alone. Alright then.

At least the short hike got his blood flowing again and hea­ted his body back up. A few more steps and even the terror of the nightmare had faded mostly, only one thing still clung to him like a leech, and it was the one thing he really had no need for right now. A hand on his shoulder, a kiss on his cheek. This is real.

He found Mutt under a far sprawling oak tree, and the stupid dog looked at him like a proud child. Only that there was no­thing to be proud of. No game that he had hunted, no aban­doned camp of another wanderer he had found, not even a flo­wer or a mushroom. “What …?”, Henry just mumbled, and then Mutt turned around, wagged his tail, barked again and limped away further into the woods. Henry sighed loudly. “Fine, I play along. If it makes you happy.”

The play Mutt had chosen for the two of them went on for quite some time. He was clearly sniffing out something, but despite an occasional bark there was no sign of them getting any closer to the source of the trail Mutt had picked up. Henry couldn't see anything in the distance either. There were only trees and clearings every now and then, the rocks to their left disappearing, new ones forming, the rain stopped at some point and a few sunbeams forced themselves through the dense au­tumn leaves, painting them in all shades of orange, yellow and red. They had been his favourite colours once, the colours of the sunrise, but now they were the last thing he wanted to see.

The sun was already high up in the sky when Mutt finally decided to stop. He barked three times, wagged his tail proudly, howled once, then he sat down, as if he had said more than enough for Henry to understand. Henry didn't understand shit. A few steps away from him, the hill formed into a steeper mountain slope, behind him, rock formations rose from the ground like threatening fingers of God, and the trees looked beautiful here, still full of leaves despite the time of year, but there was nothing unusual that could have possibly aroused Mutt's interest like that. For a few moments more, Henry just stood there in bewilderment, then he shook his head, and fi­nally he let out a laugh. “You silly dog. Hoped to get me on a walk, eh? Wanted to distract me a little? Well, it sure worked alright.”

He didn't notice the enemy, only when the arrow missed his head by a hand's breadth and got stuck in the bark of the tree right next to him. Henry drew his sword without a second thought, twirled around, ready to fight. Fool!, he scolded him­self. Stumbling straight into danger, and he wasn't even wea­ring a single proper piece of armour!

He didn't need any armour. His enemy was standing high up on one of the rocks, his bow raised, the string drawn, another arrow nocked. The soft breeze lifted the lower end of his grey beggar's coat, blew golden strands of hair into his blank face, it had grown a little longer than when Henry had left him in Rat­tay a few weeks ago, it hadn't been visible the night before, hadn't been as disheveled yet.

Hans let the second arrow go, and it missed Henry's head again by the smallest distance, this time on the other side, pier­cing the ground. His expression still didn't change, there was no surprise, no love, not even hatred, and Henry felt how that realisation alone gave him hope. Another arrow. To the left again, Henry could see the tiny movement his hands made just before he let go of it, and Henry raised his sword and smashed the arrow in two.

Hans lowered the bow. “Huh,” he made. Appreciation.

Henry stormed forward. Do not!, everything in him screamed. This isn't wise, you will only hurt him more. He gave a shit about it. Just this once he felt like he deserved it.

There was a grass-covered corridor to his left, leading fur­ther up the mountain between the rocks, and he followed it, sheathing his sword again to get more freedom for his hands as he climbed up. By the time he reached the cliff, Hans was gone of course, but he quickly spotted his grey coat dashing through the trees in the distance. Henry ran after him, stumbling across wet autumn leaves and slippery roots, bran­ches slashing his hands and arms, his face, and he couldn't have cared less. Hans was fast. He had always been the faster, more nimble one of the two of them, but the coat seemed to be in his way this time, and it gave Henry an advantage he would make sure not to miss. Another jump across a fallen tree, and Henry wanted to cry and he wanted to laugh, because damn it all, it felt just like they were children again, ignorant to the world around them, living in nothing but this haven they both had created for themselves. More cliffs in front of Hans, and he had to turn around, run back for a bit, and Henry used this moment to change his direc­tion and cross the path Hans had to come down. Hans sidestepped again, tried to go for the opposite way, but Henry saw it coming and cut him off once more. He was trapped now, between Henry and the cliffs, and in a last desperate attempt he just ran for it, perhaps hoping for his own quickness and agility to save him, but it didn't. He was fast, yes, but Henry was stronger, and with one final rush forward he slammed into Hans, pushing him off his feet and down to the ground. The leaves helped to dampen the fall a bit, but the im­pact was still enough to press all air out of Hans's lungs with a sound that made Henry feel dizzy. He gathered his strength quickly again, he was a skilled fighter, too, after all, but Henry was pressing down on him with his whole body weight, his hands wrapped tightly around Hans's wrists, and it felt so fami­liar that Henry wanted to run away and hide. He didn't. Just this once I deserve this foolishness.

He moved his face closer, so far down that their noses al­most touched, and he could feel Hans's breath on his lips. It was just a dream, he seemed to whisper. This is real. I am real. “One last kiss between lovers?” He hated himself for these words as soon as they left his mouth, because he did deserve his fun, yes, but not this, not to fall again when all it would do was to punish them more.

Hans smirked, but it looked wicked and dangerous, the smile of the devil. “No. Make it a kiss between enemies.” His left wrist slipped free from Henry's grip, and before he realised what was going on, Hans had reached out his arm far enough to get hold of the bow that he had lost in the fall. The hit of the wood against his head came unexpected, and it completely in­capacitated him for a moment, more so from surprise than from pain or the actual blow itself. That was all Hans needed. When Henry opened his eyes again, he had moved out from underneath him and got back to his feet, running a little slower now, but still running nonetheless.

Henry grunted, and the sound bore all the anger and frustra­tion and self-loathing that had built up in his chest. “Mutt!”, he shouted, and the dog answered with a high yelp. “Sic!”

Hans didn't get far. The fact that he still must have struggled with breathing certainly played its part, but that didn't matter, neither to Henry nor to Mutt. The dog bit his coat and dragged him to the ground, then he let go and slammed his teeth into his calve, just where the leg of his boot was covering it. Mutt knew Hans just as long as he knew Henry. He would have never actually harmed him, perhaps the only one of Henry's commands that he would always ignore, Henry was sure of that despite never trying.

He called Mutt off anyway, as soon as he reached them, partly to not eventually get Hans hurt, but mostly because this wasn't Mutt's prey to take, this was only his. A quick whistle, a nod to the side, and Mutt knew that he should leave them alone for the time being. He would get a reward later, Henry would make sure to find a special treat for him.

As soon as Mutt was gone, Henry took his place, letting himself sink down on his victim, putting one knee to his lower back and bending his arms up so Hans couldn't reach for anything this time. He still tried to fight but it was point­less. A sharp laugh escaped him, muffled by the leaves beneath his face. “You barely joined the enemy, and already you are playing foul.”

“Let this be your first rule for our future enmity then, my lord.” Henry tugged his arms back a little bit further, and Hans let out a moan that wasn't caused by pain as much as it should have been. “There is no fairness in war, no politeness or ho­nour. Only war.”

Hans wriggled himself free once more, but it was a weak at­tempt, one easily answered by Henry with a tight grip to his shoulders, turning him around on his back. His face showed no will to fight, and Henry realised that it hadn't shown any from the start, not really. This game of catch had been just that, a game, and despite being the one trapped underneath him, Hans had won, because he had Henry just where he wanted him. Henry knew that and he didn't mind. I deserve this, he thought again. Just this once.

Henry leaned down and kissed him. It was a hungry kiss, full of teeth and tongue and despair and stubbornness. As if he had been offered a forbidden fruit for the very last time that he wanted to relish fully before it was ripped from his grasp for­ever. The kiss tasted of wine and roasted bread and of earth and salt. It was dirty. No room for politeness in war.

Hans was the one to break the kiss first, and when he turned his face, Henry could see that his bright eyes were filled with tears. He brought both of Hans's wrists together above his head so he could hold them with one hand alone, didn't want to let go off him just yet, didn't want Hans to feel abandoned. He used the free hand to wipe the tears on his cheek away, together with the dirt that the leaves had painted on his skin when his face had hit the ground. “I'm sorry,” Henry whispered, and he knew that no apology could ever be enough. “I had to.”

“I know,” Hans replied. He meant it. He understood.

Henry wanted to say more, wanted to assure him that his words from last night hadn't been true, that he would never leave Hans alone, that he would always keep his oath, that in the end it was Hans who mattered most to him, no one and no­thing else. He didn't have the heart to do it. There was no fair­ness in war, but this here wasn't war, this was nothing but love and devotion, and there was no room for more lies in that.

“I'm proud of you, you know?” Hans still didn't look at him, and it was better that way, because his words made Henry's face twist in disbelief and pain. “You're doing the right thing.”

“Just like you.” Despite the way his voice broke, Henry tried to make sure Hans could feel the sincerity behind his words. “You are doing the right thing as well. For your people, fulfil­ling your duties. Having the support of Šternberk and Kunštát and even of the king himself secures safety for Rattay. It's a wise thing to do for now, believe me.”

“But it makes us enemies.”

“Yes.”

The wind rattled the trees, more leaves were floating down to earth around them, red and orange and yellow. Somewhere in the distance, a woodpecker hammered his repetitive song into his instrument. The air had gone cold, Henry noticed. Won't be long until the first frost of this year. But nature was so unforgi­ving in its course. Plagues spread, rebellions formed, villages were burned down, and yet nature always trod on, greeted even the most cruel bloodbath with a new spring.

Hans turned his face. The tears were still there, but his ex­pression had changed completely, he didn't look lost and hurt anymore, only determined. He even pouted. Thirty years old, and pouting like a child. “Should we ever face each other in battle, I won't raise my sword against you. I will never hurt you, and should you be in any danger, I will fuck all alliances and rush to your aid.”

There was something in the naivete and sincerity of his words, the way they were not just a declaration but a pledge, that wrapped itself around Henry's throat like an iron gauntlet. He wanted to speak, but it took his voice a few attempts to follow his will, and when it finally did, he felt a single tear run down his face. “So will I. You will always be under my protec­tion, no matter the side I am fighting for.”

Words reminiscent of the ones they spoke back then, after his knighting, in the woods, too, but near Rattay, near home. They had told Godwin about it later, and the priest had laughed. "Couldn't wait for a priest to be present and bear witness to your marriage vows, now could you? How very he­retical of you." He had taken a sip of his beer, then he had winked at them, a soft smile tugging on his thin lips. "Well, I'm sure God still listened. He always does."

Hans chased away the memories by giving Henry a weak kick with the knee to his side. “Keep me informed, will you? Tell me where you are and how you fare, just from time to time, yes? I will do the same.”

“Hans …” He took a deep breath. “I can't. Just knowing of our whereabouts could put you in danger.”

“No one will know. We will exchange private messengers. We don't have to give away any political secrets, I just want to know whether you're still breathing. Maybe we could even ma­nage to see each other every once in a while.”

It was foolish, Henry knew, but he couldn't hold back a smirk. “A meeting of enemy leaders?” He brought both his hands back up to Hans's wrists, pushed them deeper into the leaves. “Perhaps including the taking of a noble hostage?”

“Stop joking, I'm serious!” Hans tried to sound angry, but the smile on his face gave him away, and so did his body. He seemed to notice, too, because he lowered his eyes and his lips twisted into a chaste grin. “Although I have to admit, you are the only one I would ever let myself be taken hostage by, with­out any resistance even. After all, you swore to always save me from harm.”

“Even when I have to save you from myself?” Henry laughed.

“Yes. Even from yourself.”

And damn him for how right he was. The sooner you broke his heart, the better, Žižka had told him, and yet here he was, kissing and swearing to Hans as if his previous words had no meaning at all, despite knowing that it was foolish to keep him this close. But he had to save him, from the heartbreak that he himself had caused. It will be our downfall, a voice of reason in the back of his mind screamed, and his heart replied: What if it won't? “Who knows,” Henry said with a smile, and suddenly he couldn't stop himself anymore, “maybe it will do us good in the end? We will be enemies for a while, yes, but maybe one day we will have created a world in which our two sides are not as drastically opposed anymore as they are now and can come together again. And we can bring peace. Our love brin­ging peace and progress and change to this whole country.”

Hans huffed and frowned skeptically. “Well, now it's you who sounds like he's hiding in an aventiure.”

“We can try, can we not?”

“We will.” Hans shrugged, as well as he could with his arms still restrained above his head. “I wouldn't even know what else to do.”

In the distance, the woodpecker continued his song. Around them, the leaves were falling. The taste of ice lay in the air, and Henry felt his own weight sink down further into Hans, though not against the cold. It would be foolish, he thought. But maybe he deserved this one, too?

“So …” Hans began, his voice only a little bit hoarse, giving away what he, too, was feeling, “this is farewell for now?”

“It is.”

The muscles in Hans's arms tightened, and in one quick movement he pulled them out of Henry's grip, clutching at his belt. “Then we better make it count.”

* * *

Henry couldn't remember ever having cried during a fuck be­fore, and he knew of some friends of his who would have loved to chaff him about it had they found out. But Hans cried, too, and their tears mingled whenever Henry brought his head down to kiss him, and then both their lips tasted of salt, and it was sad and hopeful at the same time, every kiss, every touch, every movement screaming: This is not the end. It was another oath, this one given without any words but with their bodies alone, a keepsake for a long and frightening time, and a promise for the future.

They didn't move for a long while when it was all over, stayed entangled with every limb they had because Henry didn't even know how to break off the embrace, felt like they were two links of a chain, tightly forged together, that no hu­man hand could ever separate. God listened, Godwin had said. He always does.

Even after they had put their clothes back on, they didn't move up from the ground. Henry's arms were wrapped tightly around Hans, holding him, one last action Hans should remem­ber him by. The leaves were falling on them, covering them like a blanket. The woodpecker had stopped his song, but other birds had picked it up, turning it into a more cheerful and ver­satile tune than their friend's monotonous hammering.

He only left when Hans had fallen asleep, pressing one final kiss to his temple that Hans could not feel. Henry wouldn't dare say a proper goodbye. Knew that it might never come across his lips. He stayed close, of course, watched him carefully from a hiding spot below an overgrown tree nearby. A linden tree, Henry noticed as a leaf softly landed on his shoulder. Ma, Pa, he prayed silently, and his breath formed a cloud of hope in the ice-filled air. Please, be with us in these times to come.

[heartbinn]

IN THE BATHROOM

or— taking a bath/shower with straykids!

Bangchan—!

-definitely bath baby. If by himself, he'd take showers, but if you two are in at the same time, expect a fluffy and slightly romantic bubble bath.

-you two would just stare at eachother, or, rather, he would stare at you, admiring you, and sometimes praising your looks.

-its free moments like these when he gets to express how he feels about you, and each time, he slowly falls more and more in love.

-it's very very rare that you two would get touchy while together, unless you want it. Channie either wants to appriciate the moment, or is too shy to do anything.

-you two would soak about atleast an hour, but really, its your choice when you get out. If you do, he follows you. Please give this man big hugs.

Leeknow—!

-do i even have to say anything..

-obviously shower. He'd argue back, wanting to use shower time for himself, but when you agree that he can wash you, its game on for him.

-and he'd make sure its sensible too, wouldnt just wash you but practically massage your body until he hears even the slightest sound from your mouth. He'd grip at your skin gently, squeezing anywhere he finds a little bodyfat. He loves your body and he kets you know.

-of course, you'd argue to wash him too, and after he finally says yes, he'd tease you about it until you dont want to do it anymore. Its just his way.

-maximum 20 minutes in the shower, he'd rather have you in bed.

Changbin—!

-oh he'd be embarassed.. he'd look at you over his shoulder with that little smile he has, and would spend just 15 minutes figuring out of he wants a bubble bath, so you cant see anything, or a shower, so you can see everything.

-well, even so he couldn't decide, you just dragged him to shower beacuse it's easier.

-and could you look anywhere but his muscles? Well..yknow the answer but really no. When you finally reach up and squeeze his bicep a little, he would jump from being sensitive, almost that he'd fall over.

-so babygirl, dont let him break his bones. Take a clear bath next time~

-overall about 25-30 minutes of bickering over eachother until one of you almost slips.

Hyunjin—!

-now.. its either he'd be really really really romantic during a bath or.. just straight up a menace.

-if he feels romantic, he'll have rose petals and shi floating in the water with a glass of wine like sudhsjdhusjdhdb baby

-but then..... if he feels lazy or just tired, he'd have fun in poking at your stomach and side, especially if you're ticklish. From here, when you wanna leave, he'll either pull you back and apologize or tease you for 'not handling his habits.

-don't blame you, he'd be annoyed too. But he just loves how you get all fussy at him.

-he'd come crawling back though

-baths either last two hours or two minutes, you can guess why.

Han—!

-another menace, kinda worse but better.

-absolutely baths. Dont make him convince you to wash his hair, he'd whimper intentionally, enjoying your red face. Its all fun until you pull on his hair. He loves teasing you but knows when to shut up.

-but he's still so cute. Give him little spikes while he has conditioner on his hair and watch him get whiny. Cutie.

-but he'd wash your hair in return too, suddenly understanding why you love massaging his scalp soooo much.

-baby boy, baths last anywhere from 20 minutes to an hour.

Felix—!

-shower boy like ugh so cute just standing there

-he probably wouldnt go in with you but just join you without a word. He's still respectful, doesnt look down if he hasnt seen you naked before, and only with permission.

-once he actually does get permission, he wont keep his hands to himself at all.

-so you either never get intimate in the shower, or every day. Even if you do, he's careful to hold you and himself both steady not to slip or fall, but eventually you'd get used to it.

-well, depending on what you let him it can be 10 minutes or 10 years(jk but about 30 mins, he'd switch to the bed after one round)

Seungmin—!

-if you manage to get in the shower with him, you deserve a reward.

-bro is an absolute menace, he'd lock the door, and would have long long showers himself.

-when you do get in with him, he'd be quiet and embarassed, just muttering to himself, until you help him wash his back or something. He'd hold you for some moments while the water just falls at you both.

-wont say anything but genuinely loves these moments. He's a quiet boy then.

-depending on his mood 5 to 15 minutes.

I.N—!

-the exact opposite, he wants you in the shower with him.

-like he'll actually beg you until you agree. He'd wash you, you'd wash him, everything would be smooth and movie like. Lets hope none of you slip.

-but he'd get tired from the warm water and you next to him, so showers are not longet than 10 minutes.

-after, you'd just cuddle next to a soft movie. He's a normal silly guy but has so much in him to love.

[cityofjieun]

★ . . . . -ˏˋ 2KIDS ROOMˊˎ | EP. 3 - JIA x HAN

date: february 2022 era: maniac word count: 1.4K

a/n: this took a lot longer than i planned and i'm not sure if i like it but if i don't post it now i literally never will. 2 ji is a realtionship thats very dear to me so i hope i did them justice. please lemme know what you think 🙇🏽‍♀️

THE 2KR INTRO PLAYS, FEATURING A COMPILATION OF THE TWO GIGGLING AT EACH OTHER’S EXPENSE, THE OTHER MEMBER USUALLY STARING BLANKLY OR STRUGGLING TO NOT RETURN THE SMILE.

HAN: [sitting on the couch by himself, looking off camera] are you going to come over here so we can start or are you going to stall a little longer?

JIA: [OFF CAMERA] i’m waiting for manager-nim to find the clause in my contract that says i wouldn't have to film with han-ssi outside of group schedules... i think this is a mistake.

HAN: [GIGGLING BUT LOOKING TOWARD THE CAMERA] do you see how difficult jia-nim is… aish, she’s caught the celebrity disease.

JIA: and you would know all about that, oppa-nim [ SITTING DOWN ON THE COUCH ] i mean, you caught it before you were even famous.

HAN: okay, moving on!

꩜

SEUNGMIN: han and jia.

FELIX: they’re like oil and vinegar.

CHANGBIN: in what way??

CHAN: they don’t mix necessarily, but they still go together well.

[ FELIX HUMS IN AGREEMENT ]

꩜

JIA: [ CLAPS ] chidongz 2kids room!

HAN: i still don't know how to feel about that?

JIA: you learn to live with it, i mean it’s a cuter way of calling us rodents…

HAN: [SIGHS]

JIA: anyways, when was the last time we hung out, han-ssi?

HAN: i remember we watched that j-drama you saw on tiktok together but i can’t exactly remember when that was. i see you so much that it kind of blurs together.

JIA: honestly, we are together a lot. you are a homebody, so we don’t actually go out as much as i wish we would, but we usually hang out together at the dorms.

꩜

HYUNJIN: have you noticed that they always tend to end up at our dorm?

JEONGIN: which is interesting, because you'd think jisung-hyung would just come over to ours more because jieun and lino-hyung are there and he could kill two birds with one stone.

[ THE TWO LAUGH]

MINHO: ??

HYUNJIN: that gives him too much credit, it's too sensible.

MINHO: [POINTEDLY IGNORING HYUNJIN] i think it's because jisung-ah thrives in his own personal space, while being home for too long might make jieunnie feel a bit trapped.

꩜

HAN: but we did go out recently to... [TRAILING OFF] umm… what was it…

JIA: [CUTTING HIM OFF] so the time we spend together means nothing.

HAN: stop.

[ THEY STOP LOOKING AT EACH OTHER SERIOUSLY FOR A MOMENT BEFORE JISUNG BREAK INTO LAUGHTER FOLLOWED BY JIEUN ]

JIA: anyways! we went to a cafe in hannam-dong i really wanted to try. i saw it in yoon seung-ah’s vlogs. they’re known for their bagels and that location specifically has a pretty view of the river so i wanted to take insta pictures.

HAN: OH! and we got lost trying to find it?

JIA: because you insisted, we didn't need directions. HAN: [ROLLS EYES] hey, we found it eventually, didn't we? JIA: after wandering around for an hour! by the time we got there the wait was insane.

HAN: [UNDER HIS BREATH] yeah and the bagels were a bit mid for how long we waited.

JIA: we wouldn’t have had to so long if some had gotten up when i told him to originally AND actually used his phone maps [WACKING HIS SHOULDER TO EMPHAZISE HER POINT]

[THE TWO START TO BAT AT EACH OTHER BEFORE THE SCENCE CUTS]

JIA: i think we should go on a trip together next time we have a vacation. we’ve never gone anywhere just the two of us like that it could be fun.

HAN: a vacation with you….

JIA: what’s that supposed to mean???

HAN: i’m kidding i’m kidding

JIA: yeah sure.

HAN: you are very J so you would make a whole itinerary, wouldn’t you?

JIA: i think having a general plan of what you want to do make sure you get to make the most of you time

HAN: hmmm sure...where would we even go?[THINKING] Japan could be fun. Lots of great food, and it's a short trip. What about you?

JIA: [SMILES] Japan sounds fun. But I'd say Europe. We could explore so many different countries and cultures. I’d love to be able to use my french.

HAN: oh, i have an interesting question, what would we do if the other disappeared.

JIA: oh, this gets a bit serious.

HAN: [SERIOUS] it's funny because i think with any other member, i think i’d want to let them have their space because obviously if they run away, it's for some reason and they want to be alone. but i think if you were so upset that you’d isolate yourself, i’d have to check on you immediately. [ TOWARDS THE CAMERA TO AVOID EYE CONTACT WITH JIEUN ] she isn't someone that likes to be by herself, alone time isn’t really something she seeks because she thrives around others, so i think if she's going out of her way to be by herself like that something is really wrong.

JIA: [A BIT STARTLED AT HIS SERIOUSNESS, AS WELL AS THE SLIGHT READ] aww ji…[POKING HIS ARM] i think i'd obviously want to respect the fact that hanji wanted time alone, but i'd have to check in at some point. [SHE PEEKS AT JISUNG BEFORE CONTINUING A BIT BASHFULLY] i know we have very different social batteries, and hanji is pretty good about just letting me know when he needs some time to himself. but i think if he was to go off and not respond i’d be worried.”

꩜

CHAN: honestly, i think out of everyone, jieun has opened up to han the most, besides seungmin.

FELIX: which is interesting because they’re so different.

[THE FOUR MURMUR IN AGREEMENT]

SEUNGMIN: i think they get on so well because they’re aware of how different they are.

CHANGBIN: oh absolutely. the two used to clash a lot, and i think they came to a point where they had to understand how they were different, and what accommodations they need to make to understand the other better.

CHAN: wahh changbin, you're so insightful.

꩜

[SENTIMENTAL SILENCE]

JIA: this may be the only time i every admit to this, but sometimes i wish i were more like you in some ways

HAN: in what ways?

JIA: i mean, like you said earlier i’m not one who enjoys being by themselves. i think when i'm alone for too long i begin to think too hard and get into my own head. honestly, i think not being able to properly spend time alone with myself is a bit unhealthy. i kinda admire the fact that you are capable of being on your own and enjoy your own company.

꩜

MINHO: i’ve been trying to get jieunnie to understand that it’s not wrong to want to be around others and have companionship, it's an innately human thing, you know.

HYUNJIN: she’s a lot like changbin-hyung. he likes to just sit in my room with me to just be there.

JEONGIN: [GIGGLING TO HIMSELF] well, that's because it's you and changbin hyung…

HYUNJIN: …

꩜

JIA: skz-gi behind the camera look like they want us to start wrapping up

HAN: any final words?

[JIA HUMS, SEEMINGLY WEIGHING SOMETHING BACK AND FORTH IN HER MIND, BEFORE SIGHING AND GRABBING ONE OF JISUNGS HANDS]

JIA: i know i don’t say this often but thank you.

HAN: what for?

JIA: being my person i guess? you have always worked really hard to understand me, as well as help me understand myself. i’m so grateful to have a friend like you in my life and i’m so happy i get to live out my childhood dreams with my best friend.

HAN: jieun...

JIA: hey, let me finish. thank you for growing with me thus far, and I'm so excited to see where we go... together.

HAN: jieunnie..

JIA: if you cry so will I

HAN: thank you for understanding me as well. i know i haven't always been the easiest to deal with but y

[ THE TWO SIT IN SILENCE FOR A MOMENT, SOAKING IN JIEUN'S BEFORE JISUNG CLEARS HIS THROAT. THE SOUND MAKES JIEUN SNICKER FOR A MOMENT BEFORE THE TWO DISSOLVES INTO SILENT TEARS. THE VIDEO CUTS TO THE TWO, LESS TEARY BUT NOSES OBVIOUSLY A LITTLE STUFFY]

JIA: well, this was fun.

HAN: should we take our picture and head out?

JIA: yes please [END]

©︎ cityofjieun, all rights reserved. pls, do not copy or repost my work.

[esuemmanuel]

For someone who is extremely sensitive, solitude is more attractive than anything else, because in solitude one is safe; there are no words or attitudes of others that hurt, that is why I love solitude and that is why I take care of it. It has never been easy for me to ignore others, that is why I prefer to exclude myself and shut myself away. In here, in my hiding place, no one touches me, no one reaches me and I don't bother anyone. Sometimes, I would like to stay here forever, just with myself and my imaginary friends; they will never make me feel bad. I don't know how I got here or how I managed not to disappear. I have been hurt by many things, many people, and yet I am still here, what am I looking for? what do I hope for? what do I want? what? "For many, solitude is sad. For me, the world is sad." In solitude you don't have to pretend anything, since you don't have to impress anyone, nor convince or be liked. In solitude you are simply you. Instantaneous, transparent, authentic, sincere and real, while in the world, in front of others, you always have to give in, and this means hiding, covering up, taking care of yourself, and pretending; pretending a lot, pretending just enough to "keep the party in peace". Actually, I don't like being approached by people, not when their intentions are not kind, let alone good. If you're going to approach me, do it with your heart in your hand. If not, don't even dare. And it's not a threat, it's just that… I do feel, I do hurt, I do care.

Para alguien extremadamente sensible es más atrayente la soledad que cualquier cosa, pues en ésta se está a salvo; no hay palabras ni actitudes ajenas que duelan, por eso amo la soledad y por eso la cuido.

Nunca ha sido fácil para mí ignorar a los demás, por eso prefiero excluirme y encerrarme. Aquí dentro, en mi escondite, nadie me toca, nadie me alcanza ni yo incomodo o molesto a nadie. A veces, quisiera quedarme aquí para siempre, solo conmigo y mis amigos imaginarios; estos nunca me harán sentir mal.

No sé cómo es que he llegado hasta aquí ni cómo le he hecho para no desaparecer. Me han dolido muchas cosas, mucha gente y, sin embargo, sigo aquí, ¿qué busco? ¿Qué espero? ¿Qué quiero? ¿Qué?

"Para muchos es triste la soledad. Para mí, es triste el mundo."

En soledad no tienes que aparentar nada, ya que a nadie tienes que impresionar, tampoco convencer o caer bien. En soledad eres, simplemente, tú. Instantáneo, transparente, auténtico, sincero y real, mientras que, en el mundo, frente a los demás, siempre tienes que ceder y esto conlleva ocultarte, cubrirte, cuidarte y fingir, fingir mucho, fingir lo suficiente para "mantener la fiesta en paz".

En realidad, no me gusta que se me acerque la gente, no cuando sus intenciones no son amables ni mucho menos buenas. Si vas a acercarte a mí, hazlo con el corazón en la mano. Si no, mejor ni te atrevas. Y no es amenaza, es que… yo sí siento, a mí sí me duele, a mí sí me importa.

[jesuisgourde]

I'm a bit late in watching Severance (I just finished series 1 episode 6) so I have no idea what's going on in season 2, but here are my theories/thoughts/observations for what I've watched so far:

Theory that is probably so wrong: Helly is meant to sow chaos/rebellion. Idk whether that's to weed out people or if there's something else going on. My only reason for this theory is Milchick telling Helly that what she's doing is "very brave" in episode 1.

I'm *obsessed* with the lighting in scenes outside of Lumen, the little pinpricks of light everyone has in their eyes and how cold the lighting is (except Alexa mostly has warm light which I think is soooo interesting).

I love that none of the characters are boring. Everyone is interesting, even the more minor characters. Everyone is kind of a freak which makes them fascinating.

The security guy looks like a Lego man or a Thwomp block and it's all I can think of when he's on screen but also he's great.

The two characters who I want to know most what the fuck their deal is are Dylan and Cobel. I want to know if Dylan's outie is a conspiracy nut too. I'm fascinated by Cobel. She doesn't seem to be severed (or she's always "severed" and has no outie?). When she was chanting at that shrine thing it looked like there was a trach tube or something? Did she have a daughter who died? She's clearly brainwashed or something like that, which is very interesting.

I'd love to know if any of the writers on this show read David Graeber or Byung Chul Han/I'd love to know what either writer (if Graeber were still alive) would think of the show.

My coworker and I were talking about the character that the sister meets who is severed for the birth of her children and how terrifying that she has a self that only knows childbirth and nothing else. (When Devon asks how she raises 3 kids and she says "I lot of help, I guess". Like, shit! The "I guess" isn't just a minimizing phrase, it's literal! The writing, man!)

Ricken's self help book cracks me up because I work in a secondhand bookstore and every self help book sounds like that: a statement that sounds sensible until you start thinking about it and then it's nonsense, or a statement that is genuinely sensible but is immediately followed up by or "clarified" by something completely insane.

Theory: I don't know anything about Helly's outie yet but the like 2 glimpses we've seen of her (the start of season one and the video message she sends to Helly), it seems as though she and Mark are using severance in opposite ways. At the start of the show he's severed so he can use the time at work to not think about his grieving depressed awful outside life, and it seems to me (with what little I have) like Helly's outie is maybe using severance to forget that she has to work so she can focus on an outside life.

I'm really interested in Irving's weird black goop of fatigue. None of the other characters get that (so far). Is it a commentary on how most Americans now are working far past "traditional" retirement age and being made to do too much work with too little breaks? As far as I can tell the goop is literal (inasmuch as it's an actual hallucination/dream Irving has that scares him, rather than a metaphor) which makes me wonder if it's a function of severance? Like a planned obsolescence type of thing maybe?

My roommate is obsessed with the glass cube Mark has on his desk with the image of his head. She really wants to know if that's important and what it's about, since no one else has one. Now I do too.

I hope we get to see more of June. She's a really interesting character, I think.

Congrats to Nikki M James for getting to be in this show. I saw her as Eponine on Broadway in 2014 and now she's in my tv!

I love the use of the classic "two warring tribes have the same/similar story about their rival clan being evil and dangerous, both realize that the story is false when they finally communicate" kind of trope re: MDR vs O&D but I get the feeling that they're gonna turn this on its head which I'm excited about.

Irving and Burt are so fucking cute, I love the awkward old man crush going on. John Turturro is my favorite!!

Weirdly I feel like Casey the wellness lady has some serious double agent potential.

The actor who plays Milchik is amazing. His ability to switch from looking kind and open to terrifying is fantastic. I've never seen him in anything else before and I think he's incredible.

Prediction: now that we know severance can be turned on/off remotely, that's gonna end up a major plot point either in the series 1 finale or in series 2.

The idea of severance being controlled remotely is a) terrifying and b) an incredible commentary on bosses assuming that they can call their employees on their time off/not at work.

The cinematography and camera work in general is amazing. The focal length change/zoom in the elevators! The use of negative space! The colors!

100% *the* best intro sequence to a show I've ever seen.

Random observation: Helly is the only brightly-colored person. Her hair is red, she wears jewel toned blues and greens and burnt oranges and things. Everyone else wears grey/brown/black/dark blue. Everyone else has dark or grey hair.

Random thought: if Dylan's outie is a conspiracy nut, there's a chance he knows Ricken. (although maybe not because Ricken seems like the kind of person to ask Mark if he and Dylan know each other).

I get the feeling that this show will be amazing to rewatch. I bet there are loads of little details in earlier episodes that I didn't catch because I didn't know to look for them, so I'm excited to rewatch once I've finished everything.

[cellarspider]

6/30 The road to hell

(Previous) | (Index) | (Next)

⛬

We return to the movie equivalent of an incompletely-assembled Ikea PAX / BERGSBO wardrobe surrounded by chips of particle board and eight thousand extra screws, Prometheus.

If that analogy made sense to anybody, congratulations! You too are succumbing to The Madness.

Content warnings for terrible archaeology, terrible chemistry, and blunt force trauma to the audience with a piece of exposition.

Increasingly extensive alt-text ramblings include the logistics of securing items in moving craft, linguistics, atmospheric science, colorblind-friendly diagram design, swearing about orology, and cursing the crew for their fictional crimes against archaeology.

Many on Tumblr are familiar with Chekhov’s Gun, a piece of writing advice that calls for economy of storytelling: if you mention a loaded gun in your story, it should go off at some point. Sergius Shchukin phrased it this way: “Remove everything that has no relevance to the story. If you say in the first act that there is a rifle hanging on the wall, in the second or third act it absolutely must go off. If it's not going to be fired, it shouldn't be hanging there." 

So Prometheus takes the rifle down off the wall and smashes you over the head with it, just to make sure you saw it.

CH: “Wow, nice place.” D: “It's actually a separate module with its own self-contained life support. Air, food. Anything Miss Vickers would need to survive a hostile environment.” CH: “Okay, so she lives on a lifeboat.” MV: “Yes. I do. I like to minimize risk.”

Gee. I wonder if Vickers’ lifeboat living quarters will become relevant later.

Then, Chekhov’s rifle hits us with its next flurry of blows.

“Charlie, look. It's a Pauling Med-Pod. They only made a dozen of these.”

Gee. I wonder if the Pauling Med-Pod–-yes of course it’s going to be relevant later

You want a movie where a literal Chekhov’s gun gets fired off, along with Chekov’s crossword puzzle, Chekov’s ketchup packet, Chekhov’s swan, and Chekhov’s farmer’s mum, Chekhov’s everything all weaving back together again in a beautiful symphony of hilarious violence? Watch Hot Fuzz! Do it! Just watch Hot Fuzz! Not Prometheus!

I have said it before and I say it now, this movie is TERRIBLE at providing the audience with plot-relevant information. It hits you like head trauma. It bellows at you like Hans Zimmer has his entire orchestra hiding behind your chair, ready to let loose with an Inception Noise.

Vickers is here to make David mix drinks and to be a Corpo Ice Queen who demands that the team not make any direct contact with any alien life they find while they’re here. She doesn’t think they will, though. She thinks Weyland was delusional. But she’s the one in charge of the company money, so she’s the boss here.

Which begs the question of why she’s here at all, rather than back on Earth. This is actually a plot point, but because it’s not explicitly called out like the LIFEBOAT with the PAULING MED-POD, and everyone else has acted like loons anyway, it does not stand out. It just seems like another dollop of irrational behavior in the unpalatable stew of these characters.

However, Vicker’s demand that no direct contact be made? Very sensible! In fact, this was the point in the movie where I distinctly remember thinking in the theater “wait, they don’t have a first contact protocol already?” 

Like, Vickers doesn’t think that anything’s going to happen, but there’s enough of a chance that she’s giving orders not to engage. The sum total of their formal first contact attempt was yeeting a cultural message packet at the planet while in-transit to see if they got any response. The only one who appears to have been preparing was David–he basically spent the last two years learning comparative linguistics, with the aim of acting as a translator, should they get that far. That’s a sound choice, though its actual implementation is going to leave me incensed later.

But that still doesn’t answer the question of what they’re planning to do. Weyland certainly believed that they were going to meet aliens here. He’s arrogant enough to have demanded this whole project happen, and he didn’t have anything to say about what should be said if they made contact without him? 

This is, possibly, a plot point. But everything else that happens around this in the next five minutes is pure, howling madness.

Because they’re immediately descending into the atmosphere of this alien world.

This is too fast. In Alien, they landed on-planet to check out a possible distress signal, and it was a goddamn pain in their collective ass that they were only doing out of legal responsibility. In Aliens, they were a bunch of hopped-up marines ready to go shoot bugs. 

These are, again, scientists. The team leads are archaeologists! Aerial archaeology is a thriving field today that’s only going to get more useful as technology improves! There is no sense that they’ve done any scans, they don’t even know what the atmosphere is made out of, something we, right now, can already determine about exoplanets. Really! We can! 

We are explicitly told, in fact, that all this is happening within the same day as everyone waking up. The events of this movie appear to happen over two days, maybe three at the max.

And now, Spider yells at cloud. Or rather, the atmosphere.

The movie claims that if you spend two minutes on the surface without an oxygen supply, you’re dead. Why? Atmospheric CO₂ is over 3%.

Now, 3% CO₂ is not a fun time, and you will definitely experience weird physical and cognitive effects. But if you hang out in 3-5% CO₂, you’re going to be pretty okay for anywhere from four hours to over a month. 

What I've heard consistently is speculation that the movie meant carbon monoxide levels at 3%, which, yeah, that'll kill ya. In fact 2-3 breaths of 1.28% CO makes people pass out and die within under three minutes. 0.01% CO is enough to result in headaches and memory problems, as one redditor demonstrated to the internet back in 2015. 

But no. For whatever reason, the movie script says “CO₂”. Consistently.

And now, we get to the bit that had me screeching under my breath in the theater. Most people who saw Prometheus lost their sympathy for the human characters about 5-20 minutes after this point. I was ahead of the curve. I hated these characters before it was cool. Because they see a structure. They see what looks like roads.

Holloway, who I remind you all, claims to be an archaeologist, demands they set the ship down on one of those roads.

Let me tell you all a story. A few years before this movie first blighted me, I signed up for an archaeological field course. The university offering it didn’t have a dig permit lined up for the year I went, but their campus was in an area that had seen continuous human habitation for at least 15,000 years. They scouted out a bit of lawn, we cut the turf, and started digging. 

A week or two into the dig, we realized that the top layers were probably modern infill, dirt that had been trucked in from somewhere and completely jumbled. We started hacking away at it with mattocks to get down to the actual archaeology, which was delayed by a day or two when I struck 1940s asphalt. 

Like, literally struck it with my mattock. It felt like biting down on aluminum foil, but spread out over my hands to my shoulders. The professors rented a small mechanical digger to tear up the old car park, and also some of the plywood on the sides of our trench by accident. I have never seen a bunch of professors so gleeful about being turned loose on heavy machinery.

But finally, we got to what we were there for. A bunch of 13th century houses, and a Roman road.

I remember we made sure there was photo documentation that captured every fucking pebble on the medieval surface of that road, before we dug in. We were encouraged to sketch it, too. We took precise GPS coordinates of where the edge of the road started. We sifted through the road surface as we dug it up, finding dozens of tiny artifacts, because centuries of people had tossed little bits of trash onto the road, lost things out of their pockets and pouches, all the random little events that might happen on a stretch of road two minutes' walk from the parish church. 

I remember one student found the metal tag off of a horse’s bridle, that would’ve been used to identify it with its owner’s mark. Another found an 800 year old silver coin, tarnished on one side and perfectly, shiningly pristine on the other. It was beautiful.

And over and over, we were told: “A road is a find.” A road itself is history. A road is a place shaped by human hands, where humans have lived their lives. We can learn a lot from roads.

And that was what I was whispering at the screen in the theater, increasingly incensed. “A road is a find. A road is a find. A road is a find!!”

I was ready to reach through the screen and strangle that motherfucker Holloway from this moment on. The movie had lost me fully. Not because of this moment in isolation–if the rest of it had been consistently competent, I would have sighed and done my best to hold onto suspension of disbelief. But the drip feed of problem after problem had taken me from open and interested in the movie to actively spiteful in about 30 minutes or less.

So, fine. The movie seemed determined to make me watch a bunch of unprepared morons stumble to their deaths. Usually, this sort of movie doesn’t appeal to me. I don’t find much use for the kind of movie where you’re supposed to feel antipathy toward the main cast, as a free pass to watch them suffer. It’s why I still haven’t seen Alien Covenant. But I had been unexpectedly ambushed by just such a movie, and I was rooting for whatever horrors awaited them.

⛬

(Previous) | (Index) | (Next)

⛬

Citations for alt text rambling:

1. https://knowyourmeme.com/memes/bane-vs-pink-guy--2

2. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chinese_bronze_inscriptions 

3. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cumulonimbus_incus 

4. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/K%C3%A1rm%C3%A1n_line

5. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mount_Everest

6. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Olympus_Mons

[mids-dumbbrain]

Viktor and Enenra lore post

This contains spoilers for all of Enenra's Shadow, which you can read on @mediocres-writing-blog

FULL NAME: Viktor Wilson (originally Arbeid) and Enenra

AGE: Viktor (as of Enenra's Shadow) is 18 and Enenra's age is unknown (estimated to be thousands of years old)

GENDER: male (he/him pronouns for both)

VIKTOR'S PERSONALITY TRAITS: overly serious, sarcastic smartass, rarely comedic, socially anxious

ENENRA'S PERSONALITY TRAITS: monotone, sensible, acts like a massive prick to Viktor but genuinely likes him

BIOLOGY: Human, quarter-part Outworlder (father is half-outworlder)

PARENTS: Nico Ghai (paternal) and Melisa Wilson (maternal)

REFERENCE SHEET:

STORY: Born and raised in Bosnia and Herzegovina, Viktor is the (previously) bastard son of Red Robin and Melisa Wilson. Living in the Dobrinja settlement, he has a dark exterior and a heart of Gold. One day as he was walking home from school, Enenra latched onto him without his knowledge, and after commiting actual murder with his newfound host, Enenra ran away and hid under the bridge to hide under a bridge and introduced himself to Viktor. After a few days at school, Viktor has found his mother Melisa sick with an unknown disease that will kill her eventually. While walking around to go home, he met a man named Isaac, who told him of a flower that can heal his mom's condition. While Enenra was hella skeptical, Viktor had nothing better to do and went on a private plane with him to china, where the flower was located. Once they landed, a taxi driver and friend of, Gus, picked Viktor up and crazy taxi'd him to the entrance to the forest where it was located. The two took a break in a cafe, met a really sketchy guy named Nico and Viktor and Enenra picked up where they left off and started looking for the flower. Enenra and Viktor argued over if this plant even exist and as they did they find it. However they were ambushed by Lin Kuei scouts who were easely beaten. After running out of energy and entering Viktor to recharge, Bi-Han and Sektor showed up, Shattered his arm and took him to the Lin Kuei Temple for an interrogation. After failing to interrogate him, Viktor was busted out by a masked mad who turned out to be Nico from the cafe. Nico brought in a Lin Kuei fighter for Enenra to eat, which allowed him to begin healing Viktor's arm. The two then began to break out, defeating squad after squad of armored Lin Kuei. Then Bi-Han and Sektor arrived, fighting the two. While Viktor and Enenra easely disposed of Sektor, leaving her on the ground with a temporarily damaged armor, Nico was having trouble with Fighting Bi-Han. Before Bi-Han can kill him through, Enenra dashed in, grabbing Sub Zero and throwing him into a wall, choking him. As he slowly unformed, Nico looked him in the eyes and began to choke him out. Before he could kill him through, Sektor showed up and put a gun to Nico's head. While in slight shock, Enenra's grip loosened and Viktor was kicked to the side by Sub Zero. Viktor used Enenra's extended hand to throw a barrel, missing sub zero and going into the temple. Nico picked up on this, kicked Sektors gun to the side and threw his dagger at the barrel which was full of gunpowder. Nico lit the dagger on fire with his magic and the barrel exploded, setting fire to the Lin Kuei temple and giving the two time to escape. As the two were looking for road, Nico dropped a truth bomb on Viktor and Enenra, revealing that he is Viktors father.The boy took this relatively well and the two called a taxi, which they jumped out of the second they realized the driver was possessed by Quan Chi's magic. The two were close to the airport where their plane was, and before they landed back in Bosnia and Herzegovina, they crashed because Enenra killed Isaac because Isaac killed the pilot and co-pilot because be was also possessed by Quan Chi. Enenra grabbed Nico and jumped out of the plane, saving them from certain death and landing safely on the ground, protecting Nico from the fall. First thing they did was went to the hospital, ran to Viktor's mother's room and crushed the flower into a liquid, giving it to her. She opened her eyes and was instantly hugged by Viktor and greeted by Nico, who she had not seen in a long time. First thing in the morning, Nico and Viktor picked up Melisa from the hospital and headed home, where the three would rest and spend some proper time together

[fromthedeskoftheraven]

Get to know your moots!

Thank you lovely @oonajaeadira for the tag! 💖

What's the origin of your blog title? Ten years ago I decided to dip my toes into the fanfic pool and made a blog with a play on "why is a raven like a writing desk?" because I couldn't think of anything clever and I didn't want something fandom related.

OTP(s) + Shipname: Han/Leia, Aragorn/Arwen, Steve Rogers/Peggy Carter (Steggy), Will Turner/Elizabeth Swann, Cassian Andor/Jyn Erso (rebelcaptain)

Favourite colour: Purple and dark green

Favourite game: Oregon Trail

Song stuck in your head: Sailboat by Ben Rector

Weirdest habit/trait? I usually eat the different foods on my plate one at a time, from what I like least to best.

Hobbies: Sewing, baking, reading, playing Stardew Valley, hunting for the perfect pair of jeans.

If you work, what's your profession? Editing director for an educational publisher.

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be? Successful novelist or travel writer.

Something you're good at: Spelling, singing.

Something you're bad at: Math, sports.

Something you love: Museums.

Something you could talk about for hours off the cuff: Tudor history, the Tolkien cinematic universe, Star Wars, favorite travel destinations, whatever show I'm currently watching (right now it's La Máquina).

Something you hate: Mean people and the sociopathic lack of compassion and civility on social media.

Something you collect: Cookbooks, houseplants, cool rocks, antique teacups.

Something you forget: Anything you asked me to do five minutes ago and I said "oh yeah just a sec."

What's your love language? Giving and words of affirmation.

Favourite movie/show: Sense and Sensibility/The Great British Bake-off

Favourite food: All Indian food.

Favourite animal: Turtles.

What were you like as a child? Smart but socially awkward only child with a very dysfunctional home life who escaped into my imagination with reading and writing stories. A loner by necessity, which is a bad habit I've carried over into adulthood. I loved my dog and my stuffed animals more than anything in the world.

Favourite subject at school? English, history, and music.

Least favorite subject? Math and gym. (I don't even need to change Adira's answers)

What's your best character trait? Being fiercely loyal, protective, and nurturing with the people I love.

What's your worst character trait? Impatience and the hair-trigger frustration that goes with it.

If you could change any detail of your day right now what would it be? I'd like to be a lot less worried about the future.

If you could travel in time who would you like to meet? Anne Boleyn. There's so much rumor and mystery about what she was really like and the events of her life and her own voice is mostly absent in the telling, so it would be interesting to hear her perspective.

Recommend one of your favourite fanfics (spread the love!): you can't go wrong with any of the Ezra fics from @insomniamamma and I especially love her Prickle universe.

No idea how much this one has been spread around, so if you've actually read this far, consider yourself tagged!

[amethystina]

"Han fattas mig."

One of the compliments I often get on my writing is just that — my writing. My word choices, my sentence structure, my imagery, my rhythm, my originality, etc. Now, I never thought I'd reach a point where I’d become that good at the craft itself, especially not in a language that's not even my native tongue. Partly because of imposter syndrome but also because I'm usually such a perfectionist that I never thought I’d dare to write something that doesn't strictly and stiltedly follow the rules.

Sentence fragments? Words used in unusual contexts? Odd or highly specific imagery? No can do!

Except, clearly, I can. I should, even.

And I want to share one of the monumental pieces of writing that made me realise that. And it’s not even a whole work. It's just one sentence, really:

"Han fattas mig."

Now, that probably looks a bit weird to those of you who don't understand Swedish, so let me explain.

That's a quote from the children's book Ronja the Robber's Daughter written by the famous Swedish author Astrid Lindgren. It was published back in 1981 and while I didn't actually read the book as a kid, I DID watch the Swedish live-action movie many times. But, even then, it took until my adult years to fully grasp the utter and heart-breaking brilliance of that quote.

For some context, the book/movie is about Ronja who, surprise surprise, is the young daughter of a robber chief. That quote is said by her father, Mattis, when one of the old robbers of their clan suddenly dies. Now, this old robber, Skalle-Per (uh... I guess the translation would be Bald Pete?), is clearly a father figure for Mattis. A wise old man who, while gloriously snarky, is also incredibly nurturing and emotionally mature. Which stands in stark contrast to Mattis who is the somewhat traditionally dominant, macho man. He HAS to be, on account of being the chief for a clan of rough and tough robbers. They, in many ways, complete each other, where Skalle-Per is kind, thoughtful, and sensible while Mattis is brash, violent, and impulsive.

Now, predictably, when Skalle-Per dies, Mattis throws a full-on tantrum. The kind that shows just how inexperienced he is with dealing with emotions without Skalle-Per to help him work through them. And, since the whole problem is that Skalle-Per is now dead? Mattis has absolutely no idea what to do.

He starts pacing back and forth, crying, flailing his arms, and yelling things like: "He's always been here! He's always existed, and now he doesn't!" And no amount of calming words from his wife soothes him and, eventually, he says that line:

"Han fattas mig."

And there is no direct translation I can give you that fully conveys the amount of raw, almost childlike, grief in that one sentence. This sentence was the one that made me realise that following the rules doesn't matter because, strictly speaking, this one doesn't. The words used are unusual to the point where they're even a little odd at first glance but, once you look deeper, also so incredibly impactful.

The rough translation would probably be "I miss him" but, as said, that doesn't convey the sheer desperation that those words do in Swedish. First of all, it throws the words around, completely changing the focus and weight of the sentence. "Han" is "he" and "mig" is "I." So saying "I miss him" reverses the order where the emphasis SHOULD be put on "him" but the main subject of the sentence now becomes "I" (i.e. less about the loss and more about how "I" am feeling). In “Han fattas mig” the “he” is the most important part.

Second, you have the word "fattas" which, yes, directly translated means "missing." But not the kind of missing that we Swedes normally use for grief. We have another word for that called "saknar." If you miss someone who has died, you'd say: "Jag saknar honom." Which is basically the same as the English “I miss him.” The word "fattas" is for a completely different context — a much more mundane one, with almost no emotional stakes. It's what we use when a piece is missing or something is lacking a required component. Kind of like you would say: "This stew is missing something" when it doesn't taste the way you want it to. But it can also mean "lost" as in "there's one puzzle piece missing."

So when Mattis says those words, he doesn't say "I miss him." He's saying: "He is a part of me and he is now missing," and "he is a part of me and I lost him," and "he is a part of me and now there is a hole where he used to be."

He is saying: "I will never be complete again."

Because "fattas" is also the word we use when something is missing and the thing won't be complete until you add it/return it/get it back. And, in this case, since the man in question is dead, you know Mattis will never get that chance. He will never be whole again. Which, sure, is a rather terrifying take on grief, but also not an untrue one. Grief will lessen over time, but the loss will still be there.

And this isn't me doing some sort of complex linguistic analysis — I don't have to. Because it's all there. It's so simple yet so effective. And yet, somehow, no one had really thought to use the word "fattas" to describe grief before. Because it's just a simple and mundane word we use for entirely different things, not big, painful emotions, right? Except Astrid Lindgren did. And while she no doubt did so to make it easier for children to grasp the concept — since most kids can relate to the feeling of losing something in the context of "fattas," which is much more direct and real than the elusive emotion of "saknar" — it also changes how an adult can view grief and loss.

Not even "I lost him" can fully encompass the absolute BRUTALITY of the grief found in the sentence "Han fattas mig."

And that is why I give fewer and fewer fucks about the rules. Now, obviously, I doubt I'll ever come up with something as brilliant as this sentence (it honestly rocks me to my core sometimes) BUT it's worth trying. It's worth being creative and experiment with the words you know and in what order you place them. Just maybe, you'll end up with something really cool. That's not to say you should ignore any and all rules, but it's okay to play around. It's okay to do the unexpected.

I think it's important to remember that. Writing is creative. We write to express things — to find ways to describe and explain complex emotions, grand adventures, and sweeping love stories. It connect us and gives us a way to share our experiences, thoughts, and feelings. And, sometimes, the set boundaries won't be enough. Sometimes, we might just need someone to look at how we describe grief and go: "I can make it simpler and, at the same time, so much more painful."

And it doesn't always have to be complex. It doesn't have to be difficult words and purple prose. Sometimes, all you need is three words so easy that a child can understand them and, somehow, you will describe a sense of loss so deep and so fundamental to that character that you KNOW that they will never be the same ever again.

So experiment. Be bold. And, above all else, have fun.

And, one final heart-wrenching fact to wrap this all up: The actor who played Skalle-Per — Allan Edwall — was in almost ALL of the movies/shows based on Astrid Lindgren's books. He played different roles, of course, but he was a staple — synonymous with her works. And, when the actor died back in 1997, Astrid Lindgren was asked how she was handling the loss and her reply was the same as Mattis’s:

"Han fattas mig."

[cienie-isengardu]

I feel like a lot of Kuai's clothes were just Bi-Han's hand-me-downs when Bi-Han got too big and they just threw it at Kuai since Kuai would be growing into it.

Not all of them were but I imagine a good portion of his clothes used to be Bi-Han's, especially before puberty.

I feel that will depend a lot on the timeline, socio-economic situation of Lin Kuei and how big the age gap is between brothers. 

For example, if in the new timeline Sub-Zero and Scorpion’s family is treated like a true Royals, then Kuai Liang as the second-in-line to the “throne”  is less likely to wear hand-down clothes, unless the cloth has traditional importance, like it happens with some items passed down from one generation to another. And that could be as much about Grandmaster and his wife’s wish to give only the best to their sons as much as a matter of prestige and upholding their social status. 

However, if despite the importance of the Grandmaster's role in leading the clan, Lin Kuei is in fact a large family unit first and foremost, with close personal bonds, I can see the clothes being handed down as a common practice - especially if the clan resources are limited. I mean, we hardly have any idea what Lin Kuei economy is based on in time of peace and there is something to say about Sub-Zero’s delight about spoils of war to which Scorpion did not disagree with the sole idea of spoils, only that they must first win the war.

Like, is Lin Kuei big enough to be a whole nation, with its industry, farming, cities and trade or do they live in isolated, self -sufficient society hidden from everyone else? Because to make clothes in the traditional way, you need specialized workers to hand -woven material in the first place, which takes time and a lot of hard work. The Lin Kuei brothers’ uniforms were most likely individually tailored which makes sense, as they are Grandmaster’s sons but also grown up and skilled men that worked hard to to be recognized as the warriors of the clan, but back in the time when they were children? It would be easier to store Bi-Han’s clothes until younger brothers grow up enough to wear them than to lose the limited material resources, as Kuai and presumably Tomas would outgrow the new clothes in a few months.

(Also, I’m speaking here from my family experiences, in which the clothes for babies and children were passed down between so many people over the course of years. So I’m here for Lin Kuei being the close-knit family that doesn’t mind hand down clothes between all the children as a way of supporting each other and providing the needed items. If Grandmaster’s family is a bigger unit, Bi-Han too could wear the hand down clothes before he grew up enough to get his own sets.)

Additionally, if Bi-Han and Kuai Liang (and Tomas) were close in age, the passing down of clothes feels natural and sensible. However if Bi-Han is older than 6-10 years or more, I don’t think his parents would store his baby/childhood clothes to collect dust and take up space in the closet, unless they planned to have another child at some point. 

As for the previous timelines, I think the situation is more complicated, because both Kuai Liang and Bi-Han were children forced into Lin Kuei. And a clan that kidnapped children to turn them into killers doesn’t sound like someone who would care what Bi-Han and Kuai Liang wished to wear or after whom they got their clothes.

The clan definitely provided its adepts with the necessary daily life items, but there is a question how much any of them actually owned anything? If adepts got the second-handed clothes and things were passed down between all children, both Kuai Liang and Bi-Han had a small chance to be given a choice what is given to them (unless the original timeline!father had a say in that regard). Could Bi-Han keep his old clothes, as in, have a place to store them for Kuai Liang when he was big enough to wear it? Could he even hand down his clothes in the first place, or would the clan treat it as mandatory equipment and "losing" anything were punished? I feel that in both original and alternative timelines none of the boys have a control over the clothes provided them by clan and if Lin Kuei practiced passing down clothes from one adept to another, as a cheaper and more pragmatic way in regard to fast growing up children, Kuai Liang may not necessary getting old Bi-Han’s clothes.

​

[somebirdortheother]

Skarsgard is a non entity. He's funny in the role but I'm not watching for him. Just watched episode 4 it's so cool if you ever Watch I'll wait for your opinion with great interest. Thoughts to share on Andor? Can I share music too?

Hi, I am now up-to-date with Murderbot!

May I be honest? I will be!

Here is my unfiltered opinion (which is, as always, to paraphrase The Dude, just like, my opinion, human).

What I liked:

SecUnit's snark and inner monologue. I also enjoy how awkward he is; there is a bit of a Lieutenant Commander Data in that performance, which I find very charming. I like that he dislikes eye-contact.

The above is funny (to me), given your comment about Skarsgard being a non-entity. I don't think that I would have continued watching this show without his performance, and without SecUnit's general vibe.

I did enjoy SecUnit's decision-making in Episode 4. The poor creature is clearly going through a lot of trauma from his barely-remembered past, and is making a touching choice in favour of his humans.

What I disliked:

I really dislike when overall humour and references are very very contemporary. That is the case with Murderbot - it really feels like a show written very specifically with 2010-2020s cultural sensibilities in mind, with very current and very very casual lingo. For sci-fi, that really takes me out of the story. Not always, mind you. A counterexample is Futurama, which is, of course, really heavy on early 2000s things, which on a rewatch today are cozily eyeroll-inducing. But, there are plenty of timeless, genuinely funny concepts and clever observations about us as a whole. In Murderbot, instead, I see far too much of casually current dialogue and motivations in characters for my liking. The smallest annoying example is the couple calling each other "babe". But I have more :D

The production value feels cheap and plasticky - which is fine, of course, especially in a comedy-first show. But, once again, it felt like I was watching actors play-pretend with pieces of colourful plastic.

What I am on the fence about:

The humans are really, really stupid. I know, I know - if everyone made good, reasonable decisions, there would be nothing to read or to watch (which I don't actually agree with). I like my characters competent - these ones are decidedly not. SO, while I dislike it, I do find that they make for a funny foil to SecUnit, who bemoans his fate of having to help them. it's cute!

SecUnit has clearly broken the rule of obeying humans many, many, many times in the four episodes. I am on the fence about whether that's sloppy writing, or whether we are meant to notice it and conclude that his humans are truly incredibly dumb (which is possible, given the point above). We shall see!

Overall:

Yeah, of course I'll continue watching it. This is an entertaining TV show with a charming protagonist. It's not that deep, and it scratches my "I always really do like my androids" itch.

NOW, on to Andor!

I like it! I think I have mentioned - I am not a Star Wars universe enjoyer, in general. I liked the original trilogy when I was a kid (especially, R2D2 and C3P0, and of course, who doesn't like Han Solo?), and I remember that even when Episodes 1-3 came out, I was young enough that the visuals of the world and how cool it looked had me charmed. But, alas, as an adult, the universe is not for me.

Once again noting that this isn't a judgement on the work or anyone else's taste (Gods know how much questionable stuff I like!), Star Wars universe, to me, always feels like "good guys fighting cartoonishly evil guys", and it just doesn't compel me, despite the theme of good vs evil being quite eternal.

The above point brings me to Andor. I liked it! While I still don't find the cartoonish evil very compelling, I did enjoy that the show added more layers to "the good guys", and the sacrifices various individuals through them had to make to accomplish their goals. I particularly enjoyed Luthen and Kleya's storylines.

As with the rest of Star Wars, I found "the bad guys" as cartoonish and boring as ever (Oh, this time they are bureaucrats! How novel!). But, the good guys more much more interesting. Their stories were well fleshed out and their stakes felt like they had gravity. It was well-acted, really well-paced, gorgeous costumes and overall look.

Also - yes please! I love music!

[rtrixie]

So what's your opinion of the new 'far right' party in Germany called 'Union of Values' started by somebody who sounds like a card-carrying member of the ultra-moderate CDU.

It’s something like the third or fourth party that has tried to establish itself in between CDU and AfD (albeit the first that wasn’t founded by disgruntled ex-AfD people who felt the party went too far right for their sensibilities), all of the previous ones disappeared straight into obscurity.

Werteunion used to be a group of conservatives in the CDU, which stuck around for years and years even after Merkel opened the borders and the CDU made it clear time and time again that they’re no longer welcome - these people have no political instinct whatsoever.

Party leader is Hans-Georg Maaßen, who used to be the head of Germanys political intelligence that among other things designated the identitarians as extremists, and another big figurehead (supposedly, it’s unclear what position he actually intends to hold), is Markus Krall, who habitually mistakes Twitter likes for real world political support for libertarianism.

This whole thing is the definition of politically useless when we have a real right with the AfD, but at least they are open to cooperating with them.

I don’t see it becoming relevant, even less so when their target demographic tends to vote Freie Wähler (essentially a provincial boomer party for people who don’t want wind turbines in their neighborhood that’s part of Bavaria’s governing coalition and at 2-3% in many other states).

Also AfD is steady in the polls despite the Wagenknecht party and recent “scandals”, so their support is less volatile than it was assumed for the longest time, and so the potential to poach voters from them should be rather limited as well.