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coffee-in-veins · 3 years ago

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Day 12: Candles

an entry for darkest prompts promptober 2022

previous days: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11

now available on ao3 too

Candle NOUN - an ignitable wick embedded in wax, or another flammable solid substance such as tallow, that provides light, and in some cases, a fragrance; can also provide heat or a method of keeping time.

* * *

There was an old saying that a mercenary's worth was measured in his gear and, more importantly, in his bravado. In Hamlet, it rang especially true, considering the lengths the Heiress chose to go for the tools she deemed the most useful in her dilapidated chest of living toy soldiers. The prospect of getting better gear and maybe a more private sleeping quarter with merely four - or hell, even two, for her especially prized champions! - people instead of the cold and messy barracks was an alluring one. Not to mention the rise in payment prolonged survival promised on top of, well, such a trifle as continuous existence.

Most saw the price for their services in the means most convenient - like gems, coins, and jewellery. After all, gold was the thing that greased palms and built empires with a healthy dose of instigated murder. Fewer took their wages in luxury items which were hard to come by - like spices or silks. Selected few people in Hamlet understood the true worth hidden in a stack of yellowed paper, cracked parchment, or torn scrolls. And despite words of all the jealous underfucked swine-sarders who spread debauched rumours about him in the gossip-starved town, Dismas knew good vellum when he saw one. Never written on one, sure, since his own tiny notebook of the cheapest pulp paper won with honest cheating, but it didn't mean he wouldn't recognize the fancy thing.

The thing the rogue knew even better, though, was that unless you were using them as kindling, books and scrolls and whatnot were utterly useless in the dark. An issue most prominent in someone with night vision as abysmal as the crusader Dismas ended up stuck with, for example.

At first, it provided him with cheap entertainment. Riling up the noble bastard by proving that the carnal pleasures were superior to verse reading - by personal example and with a stare in the eyes, for added effect - was a fun way to start yet another round of bickering. Neither of them wanted to back away from another, so they ended up in shouting matches more often than not. Brawls followed on the next day since apparently kicking someone's teeth in was un-knightly if their dick was out.

The first shift happened after the crusader dragged the barely alive highwayman back from the Ruins and into Sanatorium. Sure, the pitiful condition only happened because Dis was slightly off his rocker and lunged at the monster who might or might not have been almost successful in killing the insufferable holy prick. But it wasn't like the rogue would look his lowlife's luck in the mouth and question it.

The first thing Dismas saw when he returned to the loathed shared room was the sight of the prick near the window, his boring book in his hands. The sun was setting, but he merely caressed the cover in an oddly stiff gesture.

Dismas remembered as he barged in, heading to his cot, but paused. The scene felt wrong somehow. Probably because of unfamiliarity.

"Hey."

"For the last time, heathen, my name is..."

"Choke on it, thoroughbred," the ex-brigand paused, unsure why he was even doing this. "Why ain'tcha readin'?"

"I'm reciting verses. It's enough for a true--"

"Cut the bullshite."

They glared at each other for the longest time.

"When would I stop expecting manners from a convict," the knight sighed finally and touched his bandaged head after hesitation. "Too little light. My head has hurt ever since the expedition. It would kill me if I tried."

That answer gave the rogue a pause. It was barely turning to dusk, plenty of time till actual darkness. Frankly, Dis was planning to carve himself a new dice.

Crusader's vicelike grip on the book suddenly became much more understandable. As did his irritation. What was odd, though, was an absence of accusations that it was Dismas' fault.

"What, not going to insult me, hedge-born?" the knight snapped, clearly looking solace in the familiarity of their fighting. Too bad Dismas was a loathsome man because he didn't take the obvious bait, opting to look at his forced companion thoughtfully instead.

The thing was, the highwayman might've been hedge-born, but he wasn't a lowlife. Not completely, at the very least. Thus the answer he gave was just as curt and unusual for them:

"No."

The next evening, there was a bundle of rushlights at the knight's desk. The crusader was suspicious, probably, but the rogue was in the tavern and definitely, absolutely couldn't care less.

The next week, there was a rushlight fixture in addition to a few fresh bundles - Dismas had enough time to observe the time the knight needed to read his imbecilic verses, the quality of the material he could get his hands on to make the lights and make necessary adjustments.

Next month, when he was too tired of gritting his teeth to dust as he watched his work go wasted, Dismas marched to the crusader's table and instructed Reynauld on how to use the sodded thing so it wouldn't burn in like twenty minutes and how the fuck did he live for so long without this knowledge. It was the first thank you the highwayman had ever heard from the man.

Later still, Dismas offered a bundle of thin funny smelling candles. Reynauld was suspicious but accepted. When a dishevelled, furious Alhazred barged into the room and finally doused the cold blue flames that spread to the walls by that point, they both got an earful and had to pay for renovations themselves. Still, somehow, they ended up laughing half the night in the charred room.

After some time more, Dismas placed a few pristine, even, finely crafted beeswax candles onto the scribing desk. Wax was an expensive thing, readily available only to the Heiress. Rey wouldn't question for the sake of his sanity and Dis wouldn't tell - for the same reason. But it was funny how easily he accepted the worn-out rogue leaning onto his armoured side during the next expedition.

Finally, before the Night of the Newborn Flame, as Rey was writing yet another report to the Heiress, Dis gently pushed an intricately carved candle, meticulously decorated in swirls and latticework patterns, and turned to leave the knight to his work. Instead, his hand was caught, and he was pulled into a tight hug and, for once, allowed to hug back.

The day the crusader lost his night vision was probably a strange thing to mark on the calendar, but as Rey sat to read his stupid verses for the umpteenth time, Dis couldn't quite care. Instead, he quietly watched his dearest, insufferable friend basking in the warm candlelight of his own making and couldn't help but notice how soothing the sight was.

With a silent huff, he rubbed his ripped earlobe.

Maybe that apprenticeship wasn't useless after all.

----

A bit of explanation:

Vellum is a type of parchment made out of calfskin, and of higher quality. The finest vellum was considered to be that of a stillborn calf.

It was customary for apprentice craftsmen to get one of their ears pierced with an earring that showed off the crest of their craft. However, if they fucked up, the master would rip out the earring and create an obviously placed scar to warn other masters who were looking to hire, that this individual was a fuck up (maybe lazy or stole or something like that) and they should think twice before hiring them.

#dd promptober 2022 #darkest dungeon #dismas #reynauld #Reymas #you can take Dis being a candlemaker only from my cold dead hands RH #also i'm proud of the stare down during the (literal) dick measuring contest #because he's a little shite #fanfic #The bloodied journal page || my writing #the tapestries of words || my ao3 #dd highwayman #dd crusader

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maplemarcher · 4 years ago

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Reconciliaiton

Words: 4,486

Rating: T

Warnings: Mild violence, blood

Summary: rec·on·cil·i·a·tion/ noun 1.the restoration of friendly relations.

Notes: So, uh. I really love the roleswap au from @yumoirail. I hope they like this, if they see it!

It’s been one week since Ganon’s siege on Vah Ruta ended. Not a drop of rain has fallen in that time, allowing the ground to dry out and the swollen Zora River to slowly return to its natural state, banks once hidden by muddy flood waters revealing themselves once more and its current slowing. The divine beast that had previously instilled unease and dread upon all who looked at it stands proudly above the domain, trunk raised to the heavens and its sights set on Hyrule Castle, waiting for its companions to be brought back to the light and for the hero to venture into the castle’s depths and rid it of the dark force within. Repairs from the unprecedented torrent of rain are well under way. Joy has returned to the hearts of the people of Zora’s Domain as they feel the sun on their scales for the first time in what seems like an eternity.

There is only one that still carries a considerable weight.

Sidon spends his days on the perimeter of the domain, gazing out into the world beyond, wondering. His nights are spent either in the town square staring up at his sister’s statue or in his chambers, once more looking out past the borders of the land of his people. After seeing Ruta make its way to the mountaintop (by Mipha’s hand, who else could it possibly have been, only she could control it with such grace), he’d expected to see Zelda again, despite what she’d said just before making her way inside the massive piece of ancient machinery. He’s desperate to know what had happened, if Mipha’s spirit is truly free, if there is even a tiny fraction of a threat still hanging over his people regarding Vah Ruta, if Zelda is—

Sidon shakes his head and runs his hands down his face haggardly as he turns away from the railing of the balcony just outside his chambers. He shouldn’t care where Zelda is. He should be beside himself with joy that he’ll never have to see the one who failed his sister, failed all of Hyrule, and cost Mipha her life, ever again. Instead, he’s worried about her. He may even go so far as to say he misses her.

The water of his sleeping pool is soothing as he steps into it, but it does nothing to clear his mind. Nothing has been able to that as of late—not having one-sided conversations with his sister’s likeness immortalized in luminous stone, not training with his spear until his arms tremble with exhaustion, not the thrilling weightlessness of the apex of an arc out of the water, just before the descent. His thoughts are occupied with golden hair and green eyes full of determination and sadness. The conversation he’d had with Bazz a few days prior plays over in his head.

Hope. She gave me hope.

Sidon sighs and walks down the steps into his sleeping pool, laying back and letting the water support him. If he floats in the right spot, he can see the night sky. The way the stars are glittering reminds him of the adornments on the Lightscale Trident. Memories of Mipha that belong to him rather than his father or the elders are few and far between, but he remembers watching her train rather clearly. She’d been unmatched in her spearmanship, her movements smooth and graceful, the trident shining as it arced through the air. Mipha’s prized possession hasn’t seen the sun in as many years as she’s been gone—it sits on a special mount in the armory, slowly gathering dust.

A splash interrupts the silence as Sidon rises out of the pool and makes for his father’s chambers. King Dorephan is most likely asleep, but that doesn’t occur to him as he walks through the palace halls, water still dripping from his scales and void of any of his adornments. He knocks twice on the king’s chambers before entering, unsurprised to see him rubbing sleep from his eyes as he groggily lifts his head out of the water.

“Sidon?” Dorephan says. “Is something the matter?”

“It’s my doing that Zelda hasn’t returned,” Sidon says. “I treated her so harshly—I refused to let her near Vah Ruta, despite what you and Muzu said. Just before she entered it, she told me she wasn’t coming back, and she was gone before I could protest.”

“My son. Calm yourself.” Dorephan swims to the edge of his massive sleeping pool where Sidon stands. “I am sure that you are not the only reason she has not returned. This place must hold many memories for her that are painful now, and she has other work to do.”

“Even so, I want to make things right. The things I said to her, Father—I—”

“My son,” Dorephan says again, softly. He rests one massive hand atop Sidon’s head. It’s an act he hasn’t performed in years, not since Sidon would easily fit in his whole hand. The prince can’t help closing his eyes and letting out a long, shaky breath. “I have not seen you so troubled in a long time.”

“I feel like a fool,” Sidon confesses. “I spent so long blaming her for Mipha’s death and the state of Hyrule. The prince and other Hylians as well, but Zelda especially. I hated her, Father. The mere sight of her made my blood boil.”

“As much as it saddens me to hear that, I do understand,” Dorephan says. “We lost so much. You lost so much. The influence of the elders certainly did not help.”

“I shouldn’t have let their opinions become my own.”

“You were a child, Sidon. You cannot blame yourself too much.” Sidon sighs once more and nods. “Now, while I do not at all mind you seeking comfort, I cannot imagine that is all you came for.”

“Indeed,” Sidon agrees, straightening his spine as Dorephan returns his hand to his side. “As I said, I intend to make things right. While I can’t say my feelings toward Zelda are all positive, I can acknowledge that she was undeserving of my harsh words and disdain.”

“I am glad you realize this,” Dorephan says with a nod. “How is it you intend to make things right?”

“By giving her the Lightscale Trident,” Sidon answers. “I know you intended to gift it to her upon her return. It’s what Mipha would have wanted, and therefore it’s what I want.”

“And you intend to deliver it to her?”

“With your permission, yes. I—I want to see her myself. Whether she accepts them or not, I want to offer her my apologies personally.”

“You are a noble soul, my son,” Dorephan says with a pleased chuckle. “You have not only my permission, but my insistence. With the threat from Vah Ruta lifted and many of the monsters around the Domain slain by the hero herself, we will be well protected.”

“Thank you, Father,” Sidon says. “I promise not to be gone for too long.”

“Take all the time you need.” There’s a twinkle in Dorephan’s eyes that Sidon can’t quite decipher, so he dismisses it for the moment. “She may be difficult to track down with that curious slate at her hip. Prepare for a long journey, and take heart.”

“I will,” Sidon reassures. “I apologize for barging in at such a late hour.”

“Not at all,” Dorephan dismisses with a wave of his hand. “You can always come to me.”

Sidon smiles. “Yes, Father. I know.” He bids the king goodnight and turns to leave, only to be stopped by a call of his name just before the door.

“I am proud of you, my son,” Dorephan says with a warm, if tired, smile. “I know you shall make a fine king someday.”

Sidon is struck speechless by this. Rather than answer with his usual eloquence, he simply ducks his head and stammers out a thank you. Dorephan nods and slowly sinks back into his pool, and Sidon takes that as his dismissal. His father is snoring even before the door closes behind him.

Sidon departs the Domain several days later, carrying the Lightscale Trident as well as his own spear and a silver bow. He also bears a bag packed for him by Kodah and Marot, one of the innkeepers and the owner of the general store, respectively. It contains all manner of supplies, cooking ingredients, and meals made for the road. His final and arguably most valuable gift is a small wooden chest contained in his bag that holds many an elixir crafted by Laflat. They’re different from the one Sidon had (begrudgingly) given Zelda at the start of her journey to the Domain—they actually work for Zora. Laflat had explained what she’d done differently—something about making the base with water from the Domain, or perhaps putting a few of her scales in the mixtures—but Sidon can’t recall exactly what she’d said. If he’s being honest, he’s not sure how much of it he understands. He isn’t unintelligent, but his mind is more catered to battle strategy than magic or science.

Tracking Zelda down does in fact prove to be a tricky feat. For one thing, nearly everyone he approaches stares up at him with wide eyes and a slack jaw. He supposes that many of the people he encounters haven’t seen a Zora in person before, let alone one of his stature. When he does manage to get people to answer his questions about having seen Zelda, they give him vague answers, unable to remember her face in the sea of travelers they see each day. Sidon nearly gives up after days of unsuccessful searching, but the sight of Ruta in the distance is enough to spur him on.

He’s lost track of how long he’s been gone when he sees a most unusual sight. From downriver, it had looked to be an enormous insect, but upon closer inspection, the creature stuck on its back and flailing on the bridge above him is a Hylian wearing a frankly enormous backpack in the shape of a beetle. Sidon leaps from the water and onto the rickety wooden bridge, landing just short of the Hylian’s head. He takes hold of the beetle backpack’s horns and pushes, helping the Hylian to stand upright.

“Oh, thank you!” the Hylian says, dusting himself off.

“No problem at all, my friend,” Sidon says with a smile. “If you don’t mind me asking, how did you find yourself in that position?”

The Hylian seems unfazed by his height or the fact that he’s a Zora as he cranes his neck to look him in the eye, much to Sidon’s relief. “Someone on horseback came barreling by and knocked me onto my back!” he huffs. “They didn’t even stop to see if I was alright. Imagine if a monster had come by, or if I’d fallen into the river!”

“Dreadful,” Sidon says with a grimace.

“Yeah,” the Hylian agrees, sighing. “But, anyway! Thank you so much for helping me! My name is Beedle, by the way. I normally sell the things I carry here, but as payment, I can give you something for free as a thank you!”

“No need,” Sidon says, raising his hand to stop Beedle from reaching for the straps on his pack. “But if I may ask you a few questions, I’d be quite grateful.”

“Of course!” Beedle says enthusiastically, drawing another smile from Sidon.

“Do you travel around Hyrule frequently?”

“Do I? I’ve been just about everywhere you can go!” Beedle gesticulates grandly, seemingly unfazed by what must be the massive weight on his shoulders. “From Hebra to Faron, I go wherever things can be bought and sold!”

“Then have you encountered a young woman by the name of Zelda? Golden hair, green eyes, and carrying more weapons than should be strictly possible?”

“Oh, yes! I see Zelda quite frequently,” Beedle says. “She’s my most loyal customer! I don’t know exactly what it is she gets up to on her adventures, but she’s very kind to me. She even gave me this!” He reaches into a pocket on his backpack and presents Sidon with a bright yellow beetle contained in a glass bottle along with a few leaves. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“It is,” Sidon agrees. “Would you mind telling me where you saw her last? And if you happen to know where she’s going?”

“Only if you tell me why you’re looking for her,” Beedle says as he lovingly puts the beetle back in its little pocket. “My heart may belong to Hyrule, but I still don’t want to see anything bad happen to her.”

Sidon sighs and scratches at the back of his neck. “Zelda helped me and my people in our time of need. Despite all of this, I was—unkind to her. I wish to mend our relationship as best I can.” Beedle studies his face with a scrutinizing eye for a long moment before nodding.

“You get good at reading people after meeting as many as I have, and you seem like you’re being sincere,” he says. “The last time I saw her, Zelda said she was headed to Hateno Village. Follow the river south until it leads through the Dueling Peaks, then go east.”

“Thank you,” Sidon says. “Truly. When you see her next, would you tell her I’m searching for her?”

“Sure, but you’ll probably see her before I do! That, and I don’t know your name.”

“Oh! Forgive my rudeness. I am Prince Sidon of the Zora.”

“A prince? Wow! I don’t think I’ve ever met royalty before!”

“Perhaps not,” SIdon chuckles. “Thank you again, Beedle. I wish you safe travels.”

“You too!”

With that, Sidon gives Beedle a wave and dives back into the water. The gasp of wonder that meets his ears as he twists through the air brings a smile to his face once more. Over the course of his journey, the grip of hatred and anger over his heart regarding Hylians has begun to loosen. He still can’t quite fathom completely forgiving those responsible for what had happened a century before, but he’s able to set aside his negative feelings aside for those such as Beedle, who are simply trying to live their lives in the wake of tragedy. It’s too easy for him to forget the relative brevity of their lifespans compared to his.

Sidon follows the river south, just as Beedle guided him, keeping an eye out for the Dueling Peaks. The occasional lizalfos or octorock blocks his path, but he makes quick work of them with his spear. They’re nothing compared to the behemoth he’d faced years prior. The next few days pass like this: swimming for long periods, dispatching enemies as they come, and asking passerby for directions to ensure he’s heading in the right direction. Before long, he reaches the stable on the other side of the Dueling Peaks. He inquires about Zelda and is directed again to Hateno. The river grows too small for him to swim in as it passes through a fort surrounded by the decayed remains of guardians, so he’s forced to continue on foot. He finally catches up with her as he emerges from the forest surrounding the fort.

It’s a rather violent reunion—there’s a massive explosion below the cliffs on the other side of the river followed by the pained screeching of bokoblins and the stench of burning flesh. Sidon catches a glimpse of yellow and a high-pitched chime before a red barrel adorned with a white skull and crossbones hurtles toward the monster camp below the cliffs, exploding on impact. The screeching doubles in volume, and the prince watches as Zelda descends upon the monsters making the noise.

Even from the river on the outskirts of the camp, Sidon can hear the wet thud of blade meeting flesh and smell the metallic-sulfur of monster blood. Zelda wrenches her sword from the torso of the first bokoblin and dodges a strike from another just before it hits her. She’s behind it before it can retaliate, bringing her blade down upon its head. It catches on the horn atop the creature’s skull, causing the already chipped metal to splinter and break off. Zelda takes this in stride, shoving the now jagged blade in the bokoblin’s neck. It falls with a pig-like squeal, its bat falling out of its grip and into the fire at the center of the camp. One last monster flees for its life, but arrows riddle its back before it can get far. Zelda stands in the center of the destruction, breath coming in pants, purple blood smeared across her face.

Just as Sidon climbs onto the shore, he spots a stray bokoblin out of the corner of his eye. It’s severely burned and limping, but alive. Its bluish-green skin is colored red as it nocks a fire arrow and aims for a bomb barrel that had escaped the initial detonation, laying on its side behind a pillar. Out of Zelda’s field of vision. No more than ten paces from where she now crouches, wrenching the fang out of the charred remains of a bokoblin.

There’s no time to think. Sidon charges toward Zelda, grabbing her around the waist and hauling her up with one arm. She (expectedly, really) lets out a shriek of surprise as she’s lifted off the ground. Behind them, the fire arrow whizzes through the air, carrying with it the sound of roaring flames. It explodes upon contact with the bomb barrel at the same moment that Sidon leaps into the air, aiming for the river. White-hot shrapnel makes contact with his scales. The pain barely registers as he and Zelda crash into the water, breaking the surface a moment later. Zelda squirms out of his grip and hauls herself up on the bank opposite the camp, coughing.

“What in Hylia’s name—” she wheezes.

“You wouldn’t have noticed in time,” Sidon says through gritted teeth. The source of the tension in his jaw isn’t sourced from any frustration with her, but the feeling of wooden splinters and a few rather sharp rocks embedded in his back. He hisses as he climbs on the bank beside her, collapsing on his stomach.

“Don’t move,” Zelda says. There’s no trace of harshness in her tone as there had been before, but an edge is still present. Sidon obeys without question. Now that the adrenaline is no longer coursing through his veins, he has no desire to move. “This isn’t going to feel good, but it will help.”

Sidon grits his teeth as Zelda begins pulling the shrapnel from his back. She works efficiently, only taking a few minutes to finish. Sidon moves to sit up, but she stops him with a single touch. Soft blue light radiates from her hands as she passes over his wounds, bringing with it the soothing coolness of running water and the scent of salt. It feels like—

“Mipha’s Grace,” Sidon says softly. Zelda merely nods, eyes flitting to the trident strapped to his back. She sits back on her heels when she’s finished, and Sidon takes that as his cue to sit up.

“That was incredibly stupid,” Zelda says. “But thank you.”

“No need,” Sidon replies. They stare at each other for a long moment, tense silence stretching between them. Words refuse to come to him no matter how hard he searches.

After what seems like an eternity, Zelda gets to her feet and motions for Sidon to follow. They go back the way he’d come, into the trees and to a hastily-made encampment standing near a small pond. Zelda sits on a moss-covered log near the fire, turning a spit skewering a few Hyrule bass. Sidon’s mouth waters. It’s been too long since he’s had freshly caught fish—he’s been so focused on his task of finding Zelda that he hasn’t bothered with anything other than the rations packed for him.

“What are you doing here, Sidon?” Zelda asks finally.

“I was looking for you,” he answers. “I have been for a little while.”

“I see,” she says, eyes intense and unreadable. “Why?”

“A few reasons.”

Sidon retrieves the Lightscale Trident from his back as he sits on the log next to her. It glitters in the light of the fire, magnificent as ever. Zelda turns her attention from the fish to stare at it. Silence descends upon them once more. Sidon is the one to break it this time.

“This belonged to Mipha, as I’m sure you remember,” he says. “My father intended to give it to you upon your return to the Domain, both as a reward for freeing Vah Ruta and a hope that Mipha’s spirit would guard you as long as you carried it.”

“She already does.” Zelda stares at her hands, refusing to look him in the eye.

“Even so, I’m certain she would want you to have it,” Sidon says. He presses the handle into her hands, and she finally looks up at him. “So please.”

“If you insist,” she replies. She holds the trident close to her for a moment before gingerly resting it on the ground behind them. “But I must ask—why deliver it to me personally? I thought you made it clear that you never wanted to see me again.”

“I…”

Sidon has thought about what he’d say to Zelda when he finally found her ever since he left Zora’s Domain. He’s run through the speech in his head time and time again, so sure that she would be impressed by his eloquence and grant him forgiveness without a second thought. Now, though, the words so carefully crafted in his mind refuse to come to him. It’s entirely too difficult to plan what he’s going to say when she’s looking at him like that, emerald piercing straight into him, straight through him—

“Sidon?”

“I’m sorry,” he blurts, decidedly un-princelike. “I let my pain and anger blind me and I lashed out at you. What happened all those years ago can’t be changed, and staying angry with you isn’t useful to anyone. I nearly stopped you from doing the very thing that set Mipha’s spirit free. I may be undeserving of your forgiveness, but all I can do is ask for it.”

Zelda stares up at him, eyes wide. Sidon doesn’t waver, though he still feels as if she’s seeing right into his soul. He nearly yelps in surprise when she surges forward and wraps her arms around his neck in an embrace. It’s a nearly perfect recreation of their last interaction before Zelda boarded Ruta, but this time, Sidon returns Zelda’s gesture. All he can hear is the gentle crackling of the fire, the wind blowing over the cliffs, and the croaking of frogs, though he’s sure his pounding heart is loud and clear in Zelda’s ears.

“I’m going to make this right,” she says. “I won’t fail again. I’ll free the rest of the Champions, just as I did Mipha, and vanquish Ganon once and for all. This I promise you.”

“I believe in you,” Sidon says, prompting her to tighten her grip. “Know you are always welcome in Zora’s Domain.”

“Thank you,” Zelda whispers. She releases her grip on him, wiping her face with the back of her hand. Sidon averts his gaze, giving her a moment of privacy.

The charcoal-like scent of burning food wafts through the air, accompanied by a curse from Zelda and the sound of her scrambling back to the fire. The fish aren’t burned too badly—there’s only a faint black mark on one side. Zelda sighs and removes them from the spit, offering one to Sidon, who gratefully accepts. They’re plain, lacking even a bit of salt, but the flesh is hot and deliciously flaky as well as the only freshly prepared food he’s had in days.

“I’m normally a better cook than this, I promise,” Zelda says, and Sidon chuckles. She sends him a glare out of the corner of her eye, but there’s no anger behind it. She may even be smiling. The fire hisses and pops as water is poured over it and the ashes scattered.

“Thank you for the fish, regardless of them being burned.” Sidon laughs when Zelda glares at him again.

“I was going to offer to take you back to Zora’s Domain, but perhaps I’ll retract my offer,” she sniffs in faux haughtiness as she finishes clearing her encampment.

“I assure you I don’t need an escort.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that. But I can get you there much more quickly than you could ever get there on foot.”

“And how is that?” Sidon asks, head tilted slightly.

Zelda doesn’t answer. Instead, she pulls the Sheikah Slate from her hip and pulls up the map, tapping on one of the many blue icons. She extends her hand and looks up at him expectantly. He takes it a bit hesitantly, taking note of the way his hand dwarfs hers. Before he can ask her what it is she’s planning, she taps on the Slate once more and the world dissolves into blue light.

Sidon stumbles a bit when he and Zelda materialize on the pedestal of the shrine in the Domain. He doesn’t realize how tightly he’s gripping her hand until she visibly winces, and he relinquishes it with mumbled apologies. Were it not for the twinkle of amusement in her eyes, he’d feel a bit more guilty. His scales prickle as he runs his hands up and down his arms as if to check that all of him is there.

“Well,” he says, “you certainly weren’t kidding.”

Zelda laughs, and his chest tightens a bit. The ghostly blue of luminous stone combined with the faint glow of the Sheikah Slate’s display playing off her face makes for a captivating picture, made only more so when she looks up at him with a smile. The shrine chamber of the Domain gets very little daylight, but Sidon swears he can feel the sun’s warmth on his scales.

“I should get back,” Zelda says, snapping him out of his reverie. “I believe I’m on the brink of deciphering one of the puzzles a shrine is locked behind. Something about a statue and dark light.”

“But you’ll be back?” Sidon nearly bites his tongue, embarrassed by his overly hopeful tone.

“I’ll return,” Zelda promises. “And Sidon...thank you.”

Sidon nods, and with one last smile, Zelda dissolves into strings of blue light that ascend through the ceiling of the shrine’s chamber and out of sight. Sidon stares at the spot she was just standing for a moment before making his way to the throne room, eager to inform King Dorephan of his success. He laughs at the startled reaction from the guard outside the shrine chamber as he passes, and the final cloud hanging over the Zora’s Domain finally parts.

#maplewrites #botw

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thegrapeandthefig · 4 years ago

Note

Ive got a real academic in reconstructionist hellenic polytheism, but as someone who's spent the past few years studying Christian theology at university, I'm cautious of not reading my own concept of God, theology etc. into a different tradition - something I've been wondering recently, is it correct/proper to say the Greek Gods love us in the same way we would say of the Christian God? Reading some ancient sources it can almost seem as if the Greek Gods are somewhat disinterested in humanity

The involvement/interest of the divine in mortal matters is a debate people worshipping those gods have been having for hundreds of years (cf. Stoicism vs. Epicuranism). This question is very much also present in early Christianity (about that, see Did God Care? Providence, Dualism & Will in Later Greek & Early Christian Philosophy by Dylan M. Burns)

It is, frankly, a question that will not be solved. We are mortals, and no matter how much we try or convince ourselves, we have no way of knowing divine logic with certainty. I can only advise to read both stances, compare with your own experience with the gods and choose your stance.

That being said, the question of divine love (either from the gods or from us to them) is more complex. Even from a stoic point of view, I still would argue that it's not the same concept of "love" found in Christianity. For a late stoic (eg. Marcus Aurelius), the gods are perfect beings that define goodness, and yet this doesn't necessarily mean it equals to love in the Christian meaning of the word.

Which brings us to the word "philos" in a religious context, which Mikalson defines/explains as such:

φιλος, as adjective, ‘dear’. φιλος and φιλια are complex terms about which both the ancients and moderns have written books. They are problematic to translate in their noun, adjectival, and verbal forms. In a religious context an action may be φιλον to the gods or a person may be θεοφιλης. These and their verbal equivalents are often treated as ‘god-loved ’, but we must be sure of the nature of that ‘love’ because it affects so greatly our understanding of a god’s feeling for man and his actions. Φιλοσ, in classical Greek, as a noun is ‘friend’, that is ‘a party to a voluntary bond of affection and goodwill, and normally excludes both close kin and more distant acquaintances whether neighbors or fellow-citizens’. Usually with the genitive, as ‘friend of Philip’. φιλια, as the abstract noun, is ‘friendship’, ‘affection’, or ‘mutual affection’. But φιλοσ as an adjective, ‘dear’, may be applied more broadly, beyond the range of ‘friendship’ to family members, other kinds of acquaintances, and even objects. Usually with the dative, as ‘dear to the gods’. The verbal forms (φιλειν) may reject both the noun (‘to treat as a ‘‘friend’’ ’) and the adjective (‘to consider ‘‘dear’’ ’). Given the limitations of English, I transform some of the verbal expressions (for example, Χ φιλειται υπο των θεων) into a ‘dear’ form, as ‘x is dear to the gods’. ‘Dear’ seems to me best, though certainly not perfectly, to capture the adjectival and verbal uses of φιλος in a religious context without introducing inappropriate connotations of ‘love’.

- Jon D. Mikalson, Greek Popular Religion in Greek Philosophy

Alternatively, still on the interpretation of philos, Buckert says this:

Regularity of custom brings familiarity. A Greek can address a god as his dear god, philos. ‘Dearest Apollo’ cries the master of the house in excitement while looking at the statue which stands in front of his house door. When Hipponax calls on his ‘dear Hermes’ while he is obviously about to commit some theft, this familiarity seems somewhat suspect; and ‘dear Zeus’ may sound even more ironical. For Euripides’ Hippolytos, Artemis is ‘dear mistress’, indeed ‘dearest Artemis’; and yet she abandons him. ‘It would be absurd if someone were to say that he loves Zeus,’ is the blunt judgement of the Aristotelian Ethics. The poets ever since Homer proudly say that a god loves a special city or an individual man. But to be man-loving in general would be beneath the dignity of Zeus; this qualification is left for Prometheus or Hermes, at best. The same god who at times loves can also conceive hate and work destruction. The bond between a man and a god never becomes so close that it could be expressed by a positive pronoun: Greeks do not pray ‘my god!’, as Hittites or Hebrews do. The despairing question: ‘My god, my god, why hast thou forsaken me,’ is countered by the defiant assertion: ‘Father Zeus, no god is more destructive than you.’ It is left for men to endure as long as they are able.

- Walter Burkert, Greek Religion, 1991

This is where the concept of kharis takes its place. Because kharis is something that defines your personal relationship with the divine, it is less about "do the gods love us?" and more about "do I have a good relationship with this deity?"

Sorry if this answer went all over the place, but as you can see this is a packed question to which the answer depends a lot on what you perceive love to be and how you define your own relationship with deities.

#there's a quote i read not long ago about how it would have been quite alien for the ancients to say they feel love for the gods #at least in the context of epiphany #what comes up most is reverance or shock #but i can't fucking find it #if i find it back i'll add it in a reblog #sorry about that

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maniculum · 2 years ago

Text

Last update for the night. First, adding to the list of off-by-one spellings that stump Google Docs:

chere ("cheer")

sylver ("silver")

ete ("ate")

Also, I didn't notice this issue when I made the original post, but Google Docs thinks the following words are spelled correctly (below the cut, it's a long list):

som ("some")

poyson ("poison")

sodeynly ("suddenly")

wythoute ("without")

seyde ("said")

knyght ("knight")

wyte ("wit", used here as "to be certain")

trew ("true)

mayster ("master")

nother ("neither")

hote ("hot")

ryght ("right")

bedde ("bed")

souper ("supper")

ayen ("again")

brede ("bread")

whyle ("while")

venyson ("venison")

baken ("baked")

hondred ("hundred")

holde ("hold")

hyghe ("high")

feste ("feast")

wolde ("would")

I'm not positive whether it actually "thinks" these are correct or if it's just randomly "decided" to ignore them -- these weren't given red underlines, but I tried right-clicking a few to ask Google Docs to define them and it came up empty, so it doesn't seem to think they're real words either. (Or the dictionary function is just fully divorced from the spellcheck function.) Sure, maybe it's just overwhelmed by the Middle English block quotes or something and it's decided to pick and choose what to fix, but frankly I'd like my spellcheck to be more consistent than that. It's not even consistent with the same words: ones that I type often in this chapter (e.g., "wyne" and "hym") only get underlined sometimes, and it doesn't always suggest the same corrections. It also seems to ignore anything with an accent mark.

Anyway, last set of screenshots for the night:

As in "Percy Bysshe Shelley", Mary Shelley's disaster of a husband? I mean, I can't really blame Google Docs for not understanding that "fysshe" is "fish", but that's a wild swing and I'm surprised it's in the data.

This is one of those inconsistencies I'm talking about. Sometimes "wyne" is left alone, sometimes it's "wayne", at least once it's correctly been identified as "wine", and this time it's just a different variant on the Middle English spelling. Why, Google Docs?

And here's the other one I mentioned as being inconsistent. Google Docs hasn't gotten this one right once -- it usually ignores it or tries to correct it to "hymn". This time, however, it's decided I'm talking about the brand name. Google knows its brands, you have to give it that. Not that this is a positive -- if anything, I think it's indicative of the intended use case for these programs, and I don't like it.

This one isn't necessarily that out of pocket, but I can't help but notice that "hermytage" is only one letter off from the modern spelling. Why choose "heritage", which is two letters off, as the suggested correction? Are hermitages not in the data?

Unless I've missed something, "spicy" is not a noun, which means "spicys" is not a construction one would expect to see. Especially since, if you were to construct it by analogy with other English words, it would probably be spelled "spicies". Who is out there writing "spicys" enough for Google Docs to think that is a valid suggestion?

Now, you may think this is just straight up not a word. Not so! This is another Middle English variant spelling for the same word. Why is Middle English even in the data? You can't spellcheck Middle English. They hadn't invented standardized spelling yet. That's the whole reason getting spellcheck suggestions on Malory is absurd in the first place.

So, between these examples and the list of words Google Docs doesn't red-underline, I'm going to go ahead and guess some Middle English text got into whatever corpus they trained this damnable machine on. Which, speaking as someone who doesn't know computers but does know Middle English, I don't think is going to be good for the program's function.

I'd also recommend that anyone who knows they are prone to misspellings try to find a spellcheck program that does things the old way, with a built-in dictionary instead of machine learning. Because this is just... it's not going to serve you well.

Google Docs vs. Thomas Malory

I'm working on the Malory chapter of my dissertation, and at one point Google Docs' spellcheck red-underlined a word but failed to provide a suggestion.

I thought it was odd that Google Docs was unable to spot the fact that I'd dropped an R, and then I recalled hearing recently that Google had started using a machine-learning-powered spellcheck that was, frankly, terrible.

Incidentally, clicking "Why am I not seeing a suggestion?" takes you to a section of their Support page that reads as follows:

Words where spelling is not recognized are underlined in red to warn you of a possible misspelling. When you click on the word, you'll see a "Spelling" label. If there is no spelling suggestion available, you can choose to edit the word, add the word to your personal dictionary, or ignore the suggestion.

Note that this does not answer the question, which to me implies that the real answer is "because it's crap". (Quick aside: I'm not one who is generally inclined to trust spellcheck anyway, as I am in my 30s and remember when "blindly taking spellcheck's suggestions" was something one would get mocked for, but I am annoyed that it's actively getting worse.)

So I decided to play with Google Docs a bit and see what it had to say about all the words it was underlining in the Malory quotations. (This may be a bit unfair, since "modernize 15th-century spelling" is not a function spellcheck is meant to have, but I also think that ruining a perfectly adequate spellcheck system with machine learning isn't fair to its users, so they started it.

Some of my favorite results below the cut.

Okay, that's also not a Modern English word. It's still Middle English, just a different variant spelling. Google Docs, you are out of your lane here.

This is not in the OED, and Googling it reveals that it's a surname. Weird guess here, Google Docs. At least capitalize it if you want me to lump Mx. DeVellis in with the fiends.

Buddy (derogatory), I don't think that one's correct either.

I thought this was just nonsense guessing, but apparently there's a company called "Bonwyke" that sells window films. You know, I'm somehow not surprised that the machine knows the names of corporations.

Google Docs failed to even come up with a suggestion for about half the words it underlined, which is fair, but the ones that stumped it include the following off-by-one-letter spellings:

calle ("call")

mayden ("maiden")

nyght ("night")

It's also continuing with this malarkey:

Google Docs, worstie -- you have got to learn what an abbreviation is. This isn't even an uncommon one. Why do they confuse you every time? If you're really using machine learning, surely you should eventually figure out that periods are used for purposes other than ending a sentence.

Anyway, I'm only three pages into writing this chapter, so I may well come back with more of these, but in the meantime allow me to leave you with a spelling suggestion that I just think is funny.

The Strongest Wayne. And Percival did what to him?

#damnable machines

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binniesthighs · 4 years ago

Text

two tails | reader x minho |

Two

Pairing: self insert, female reader x lee minho

Genre: strangers to lovers, neighbors to lovers, fluff

Tags: neighbors au, comfort fic, catowner!minho, catowner!reader, author!reader, bestfriend!seungmin, coworker!hyunjin, florist!jisung, punk!jisung (yeah boiiii), agedup!skz, slow burn, plot-driven, gradual romance, lil bit of angst, strained parental relationship, explicit language, mentions of food, passive body shaming

Word count: 5.5k (y e e t we love self indulgence)

Tagging: @lauraneuuh

Chapters

P | ONE | TWO | THREE

busybody noun

:an officious or inquisitive person.

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

There are a couple things that your mother is known for--or rather, a couple things that she has been deemed.

Mother, wife, friend, matriarch, socialite, unofficial event planner, gossip, show off, professional nagger, and, to certain people, bitch.

And yet, somehow your mother was intertwined with some of the most prominent circles within the city, and she knew everything about everyone’s business. Frankly, she often didn’t have anything better to to with her time. ” If she had any job at all, it would be calling you every weekend to give her opinions on your rather “less than auspicious” life choices.

To her, another one of your “less than auspicious” life choices had to do with the way that you had dressed yourself; however little sense this made.

Your mother sipped at her tea with dainty fingers, barely cracking with age due to her expensive hand creams.

“Quickly. Go get changed. We don’t have much more time and you’re dallying. It should fit you, just as long as you haven’t put on any more weight.” Her hawk-like gaze inspected your hips and thighs. “Hmm. I think you’ll be fine.”

Seungmin, where he sat on the couch with perfect posture tapped his feet up and down with discomfort.

I hate you for doing this to me, he glared at you with despair, hiding it behind the wide smile he performed for your mother.

“What? Do you not trust me to be alone with your friend here?”

Your best friend nervously chuckled out in that little puppy-like way that he would. “What? Ahh no, I’ll be fine, go on Y/n, I should be leaving soon anyway, I was just stopping by.”

Your mother’s eyes followed you up your staircase, watching for the very moment that you closed your bedroom door. The second you did, her snide voice hissed out loud whispers, undoubtedly drilling Seungmin about the usual questions: are you married, where do you live, what’s your profession, what does your family do etc.

The little metal zipper of the pencil skirt pinched your fingertips as you attacked it up your body. Once again, your mother had underestimated your clothing size. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes looking at the tags for the designer matching skirt and blazer ensemble. There was nothing in your mother’s life that didn’t denote the status that she “worked so hard for.”

In a way, you hated that you had done this to Seungmin as well. Initially you had thought that having some kind of male presence over when your mother arrived would deter her stabbing remarks about your singledom, but in fact, it has just made it worse. For once in your life, you just wanted to hold something over her. Now, you’d likely traumatized the best friend that you had.

You nearly slipped on the carpeted stairs in your nylon stockings on the way down, but held fast the the banister, looking a bit like some kind of sad, business-casual, plastic-looking prom queen.

Seungmin’s eyes widened seeing you in the toning skirt. Likely you knew that he must’ve been keeping his jokes to himself the very best that he could--you wouldn’t hear the end of it later.

“Wonderful. Let’s get going.” Your mother set down her teacup with a clink. “I’ve got some cosmetics in the car that you can use as well. We’ll be stopping off at the flower shop before we get to the venue. I’ve ordered an arrangement for the bride-to-be.”

“I feel like a China doll.” You muttered under your breath, catching a little laugh from your friend. Your eyes met as if to ask him if he was okay, which he rolled his eyes as his answer.

You put on the only pair of kitten heels that you owned: they were brown, banged up and the pleather was cracking a little at the edges. Of course, your mother let out an exasperated sigh upon seeing them.

“I’ll bring shoes next time.”

Seungmin politely opened the door for the both of you and the spring morning’s sun washed your face in it’s warmth. The morning was perfect: the exact kind of day that you would spend in your garden writing or reading on the single-person porch swing you had just installed. Dew still held to the Kelly green blades of grass and your cherry blossom tree bowed a little in the breeze.

“Well, it was nice meeting and speaking with you Seungmin--”

“--We’ve met before thou--”

“--You seem to be a strapping and organized young man. I do hope that you consider what we discussed.”

Seungmin appeared to flush a little, “I-I’ll think about it.”

You tugged at your friend’s shirt, pulling him in to whisper, “What the hell did she talk to you about?”

“Don’t worry about it.” His eyes fluttered around nervously. “She just kept going on about how she wanted me to--”

“--Oh, Y/n!”

From your mother’s surprised expression on the other side of the car, to the way that Seungmin stopped dead in his sentence, you knew exactly who that voice belonged to.

Your body turned around in slow-motion, hoping that this must have been some kind of nightmare, and that you hadn’t woken up that morning yet and were cozily still tucked in bed.

If it would have been socially acceptable, you would have hidden behind that car until he walked away, but it was too late considering he already knew you were there.

Your mother let out some kind of ungodly squeal before rushing towards Minho and taking his hand in hers to shake.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you! I take it that you know my daughter? And who might you be, such a handsome man as yourself???”

You really did contemplate hiding behind that car.

It was unfair how you had to run him into at a time when he looked like that. Your mother was nearly eating him with her eyes while Minho looked to you in his confusion.

Of course when your mother had to see him, he was fresh off of his morning run: white cotton sleeveless shirt, running joggers, a thick headband with sweat dripping down his body in rivets from his forehead to the curves of his toned arms.

Life was just too fucking unfair.

“Minho!” Internally, you crawled so far into yourself it was like you were barely there. You squeaked out the words coupled with a poorly-timed voice crack, “I didn’t plan on seeing YOu here!”

“Minho?!” Seungmin echoed your phrase, grabbing onto your arm with force.

“Uh, hello, nice to meet you I’m Lee Minho. And yes, I do know Y/n, I actually live a couple doors down--”

“--A neighbor! How wonderful! I know she doesn’t leave the house that much, but I’m so glad that the two of you have met. Do you live your family..? Or...your wife...?”

He smiled warmly, polite as always, “No Ma’am, I’m not married, I live with my mother.”

“Your mother? Well, that’s very honorable.”

You and your best friend locked eyes upon hearing the answer to the question that both of you had been silently wondering.

With a little eyebrow raised, he gave you a smirk, before braiding his hand through his locks strung with sweat. “I also live with my cats too.”

“Cats?” Your mother tried her best to hide the distaste in her mouth. “That’s...honorable as well. Taking care of animals is...hm, well, Y/n get in the car, time is ticking!!”

Your mother’s shrill voice was clipped by the sound of the car door closing behind her. You and your best friend choked in silent laughter together.

“Are you sure I don’t look ridiculous?” You patted down your itchy grey blazer.

Seungmin nodded, “Do you want me to tell you the truth? Not your colors. But, you’ll just have to live with it.”

“I think that you look nice.” Minho’s compliment melted into your skin like honey. “But I agree, the colors don’t work the best. Sorry.”

“Oh. Thank you...” Your cheeks warmed, “Sorry! God, I’m-this is Seungmin, my-my friend Seungmin, sorry I didn’t introduce you both, my head is just--”

“--Nice to meet you. Finally.” Seungmin’s expression turned a bit more stoic, a stark contrast to his softer features.

“Nice to meet you as well.”

“Okayyyy, well, I’ll just...get going then. See you both...later.”

Seungmin slammed the door behind you, leaving you with your huffing mother in the car.

“All of these handsome men around you and you can’t lock down one? I can’t believe you...” She threw her makeup bag on your lap. “I’ll play matchmaker if you want me to, I don’t mind, but you know that I have a lot going on already--”

“--Haven’t you already started? Don’t pretend like you didn’t tell Seungmin something. Seungmin is my friend, mom.”

“I just don’t get you. Aren’t you ever a bit sad that you don’t get invited to things like this since you have no female friends...?”

“Honestly? I don’t really care--”

“--You should. Thank God that you have me.”

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

The front windows to the floral shop winked in the morning sun and the gold lettering of the signage glistened with a similar glow. On the display, there were several dozens of different types of flowers all arranged into different glass vases, tied with bows or swaddled in burlap. The arrangements of roses, chrysanthemums, peonies, daises, sunflowers and other wildflowers appeared to be freshly cut, and beaded with water droplets.

“Here. Take my card. If any of them seem to be brown at all, tell them that you won’t pay until they fix it.”

You took the little plastic card from her red painted nails. “Will do.”

There was a little bell hung over the shop door, and it tinkled when you entered like fairy chimes. The entire place seemed a little magical: the kind of place that you would find yourself reiterating in your writings. On the marble tiled floors, flecks of dirt seemed to gather in the grout.

The golden brass counter stretched on for nearly the whole length of the shop, and held a display case which doubled as a cooler holding smaller things like corsages and boutonnières.

“Can I help you?”

The man approached you wiping the dirt off of his hands onto his canvas apron which was stained with smudges of green and brown. Your eyes were immediately drawn to the tattoos adorning his arms in beautiful patterns of black with muted colors of yellow, lavender and pink. They were nearly all floral in design and reminded you of the drawings from a botany book. His shaggy dark hair had a bit of a curl to it that tasseled over his eyes. His smile too was devastatingly charming, decorating it was a black hooped lip ring.

“Here to pick up an order?”

“Y-yes, for L/n.”

“I just finished that one up, lucky for you.” He palmed through the little stack of receipts near the register. “I’ll go get it real quick.”

It was criminal how fast you found your heart beating after hearing how strikingly soothing his voice had sounded. You also found your head spinning over how familiar he seemed, like someone you had met before, but couldn’t place where.

He had brought the sizeable arrangement over, and upon seeing it, you knew that your mother must’ve asked them to pull out all the works. Not only were flowers like this a bit of an unusual bridal shower gift, but it was just one more way for her to show off. The moment that the two of you would arrive with that, heads would turn, and that was exactly what she wanted. It was so large, you had to crane a little to see the florist behind it.

“That’ll be 360.”

Never had you been more thankful to pay for a gift with someone else’s money.

When you passed him the card, you noted the little scrapes up and down his hands and forearms, looking a bit like cat scratches.

“It’s the roses.” He chuckled. “This job is a lot more dangerous than you would think.”

“Oh.” A heat in your cheeks rose along with his observation of you.

“Beautiful day isn’t it?” He tapped at the register, then nodded to the sunlight streamlining in from the windows. There were little rainbows speckling the store from the prisms hung above the displays.

“I-it really is.”

Your eyes wandered to his nametag which looked like he had decorated with hand-drawn stars. Jisung. Once again, he caught your eyes, slyly rolling his tongue over that black hoop.

“It’s the kind of day that makes me wish I wasn’t cooped up in here and doing something else; going somewhere else. You seen the cherry blossoms yet?”

“I-I have one in my yard.”

“Oh really? It’s my favorite time of year because of them.”

His smile was a bit in the shape of a heart, and the way that his eyes smiled along with it was just as charming as the rest of him.

Blaze.

He was Blaze.

Quite literally, never in your life could you have said that you had felt your heart skip a beat, but, you imagined that there’s a first time for everything.

He scribbled down something down on the receipt, handing you both the card and the slip.

“Have a good one, ‘kay?”

Had it been socially acceptable, you would have slapped yourself square in the face, right then and there, to snap yourself out of your awe.

“Yo-you as well.”

It was a miracle you didn’t drop that expensive-ass floral arrangement getting out of there as fast as you did.

“What took you so long? People will start wondering where we are.”

Your mother said a couple more chastising remarks, but they faded away once you looked at the crinkled piece of paper on your hand:

I hope to see you again, Blossom.

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

“Y/n!!! Oh my god, I am so happy to see you. I’ve been decaying, simply drying out in this office all by myself.”

You swatted your melodramatic friend by the backside of his head, subsequently ruffling up his perfectly primped long, blond hair.

“Shut up. You’re surviving just fine without me.”

Hyunjin lowered his voice into a rather loud whisper, “Everyone here is just so boring.”

“I don’t know what you’re expecting ‘Jin. It’s a publishing company, all we do is read here. You kind of did it to yourself too. Hell, you edit the children’s books!! You don’t have a thing to complain about.”

“Are you sure that you can’t take an office here? We could eat lunch together, make coffee together from that broken-ass coffee machine, and bitch about Mr. Yoon together. By the way, what are you doing here anyway besides not seeing me?”

“Picking up a couple manuscripts. I finished the ones from before.”

“You’re inhuman. I don’t know how you get through 300+ pages over a weekend.”

You shrugged, “It’s just what I like to do, that’s all. And, no, I will not be taking an office here, not when I have my classes too.”

“Aren’t you the perfect symbol of adulthood.” Hyunjin pulled up for you the creaky plastic office chair from the empty desk next to his.

“Tell that to my mother, I think she’d have a different oponion.”

“Screw your mother--and you can tell her that I said that too.” Your coworker fiddled with his white collar, pulling it from his neck. You knew how much he hated those and would have much rather preferred the silky low-cut ones which had become his trademark.

“If only it were that easy.”

“How’s Princess Bomi doing?”

“My cat or the story?”

“I was talking about the story, but sure, tell me about your cat too.”

Hyunjin was a sarcastic little shit, but that was why you loved him. Seungmin tended to be the same sometimes--you surmised that perhaps you made the same type of people gravitate towards you.

“It’s been pretty well received actually, and I think I’m just about done with the first book, there’s probably only a few chapters left. I just passed 8,000 reads.”

“Wow, that’s actually...really impressive. I mean it.”

When he wasn’t being a sarcastic little shit, Hyunjin was actually a genuine friend. He had been supportive of your writing ever since he forced the information out of you a few months ago after seeing a your chaotic notes mixed in with your manuscript ones. Of course, he had laughed at the prospect of you naming your main character after your cat, but he understood otherwise.

“You’ve been getting good feedback?”

“Mmhm! They really like Bomi as a character, that, and it seems like Blaze has some fans too...”

Upon saying the same, the boy from the flower shop sneakily crept back into your head along with that stupidly Blaze-like smile of his--or at least, the smile that you had always pictured Blaze to have.

Hyunjin snapped his fingers in front of your face. “Earth to Y/n? Where did you go?”

“Huh? Oh sorry, I think I just got...lost in thought.”

“I said I think that you should really consider brining it to the company. What if they want to publish it? I think that it’s worth a shot. You said yourself that its successful online. What makes you think that people wouldn’t be interested in the print version?”

“I--Hyunjin, Princess Bomi is kind of a personal thing...”

“--Why do I even bother!” In his mock disgust, Hyunjin crossed his flabbergast arms against his chest. “I’m only trying to give you a helpful suggestion.”

Above the two of you, the florescent white lights bore down on you with a harsh luminescence.

“But--” You shyly picked at the hem of your blouse, “I could use your help with something else.”

“What?”

“What do you suggest that I wear...to meet someone’s mom?”

Hyunjin practically leapt out of his chair and three feet into the air.

“YOU’RE MEETING SOMEONE’S MOTHER?! I’M SO PROUD OF YOU!!”

“Get your ass back down in your seat.” You whipped your head around to see your coworkers concerned glances. “Yes, I am.”

“Thank God that you asked me. This is a serious matter.”

“I can’t exactly ask Seungmin...so...”

“Don’t you worry! I know exactly what you can do. So,” His voice turned sing-songy, “~What’s he like~ And how come you didn’t tell me about this sooner??”

“-Because I knew that you would have this exact same reaction.”

“I promise I’ll calm down, okay, go:”

“Well, he’s my neighbor, and I’ve only met him a few weeks ago, and he’s got cats, and he’s really sweet and not to mention hot as well but in like kind of a... cozy, librarian kind of way? Anyway, he wears cardigans--and you know that I’m a sucker for a good cardigan--and I’m convinced that the universe is trying to get me to destroy him but, that’s beside the point--”

“Slow down slow down! Literally all of the words you said just now don’t make sense together.”

You wheeled your chair closer to the man across from you, “And then he asked me to meet his cats and his mom or maybe just his cats or his mom, he was kinda unclear about that now that I think about it...”

“So he’s hot and has cats, hmm, sounds right up your alley.”

“I-I guess.”

“Are you sure he’s not, you know, trying to be neighborly?”

You punched Hyunjin’s arm so hard you jiggled your glasses on your face. “Don’t ruin this for me.”

“Sorry I brought it up! Ok, ok, I think I know what you should do. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t help you bag this sexy librarian man?”

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

“I sure as hell hope that you’re not trying to be neighborly.”

You smoothed down your freshly ironed blouse: a floral pattern with birds, something “light and springy” just as Hyunjin had recommended. The pleats in your trousers were in shape as well. He had suggested too that you tied your hair up, something about it being professional and “dateable.”

Bomi sauntered up to you while you inspected your outfit in the full-length mirror. Her gorgeous green eyes were squinted after her day-long nap, and she yawned while she brushed up against your leg.

“To what do I owe the pleasure Bomi?” You bent down to pat her head, which she promptly shied away from. “You think that this looks good? Mother-worthy?”

Bomi blinked.

“Thanks for your input Bo.”

Another yawn.

Your nightstand held your little jewelry tree, and from it you took a dainty silver necklace that hung just above the neckline of your blouse, as well as the thin tan wristwatch that you wore once in a blue moon.

The watch face read 5 o’clock exactly.

“Shit! Shit shit shit shit!.”

Bomi scrambled out of your way as you flew around the room trying to find a matching pair of socks. You stopped one more in front of the mirror. Your mother’s words always did find a way of seeping back into your skin like poison. Even if you had looked “nice” a nagging voice deep down echoed: “you’ve only ever been less than auspicious. Why don’t you ever change that?”

“Screw your mother.” Hyunjin had said.

If it only was that easy.

Your footsteps clomped down the stairs, and you threw on the same pair of kitten heels.

“Shit. The gift.” You slapped your forehead, cursing your horrid memory.

“And don’t forget to bring his mother something. A gift. Something small but thoughtful. Something that she can use. Mothers eat shit up like that.”

You frantically searched your entire home for something that resembled a gift. After a few moments of searching, you had resolved to go without it--you’d explain that it was in the mail, or misplaced, or anything but the fact that you didn’t have one. You grabbed your humorous amount of keychains on your keys, eyes catching that little box of complimentary chocolates from the bridal shower.

“Good enough.”

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

One more time, you checked your reflection in the glass door leading to Minho’s mother’s townhouse.

“This is fine, you can do this. Don’t screw this up, you’re fine, you’re fine.”

Minho opened the door, looking as confusingly adorable and downright gorgeous as you had grown to know him as. This time, he had ditched the cardigan for a sky blue sweater that still pooled at his palms. Seeing how casually he had dressed, you instantly felt overdressed, and made a mental reminder to cuss out Hyunjin when you got the chance later.

“Come in,” He gently ushered you to the spot where you switched on shoes for slippers.

“You-um, look really nice.” Minho pushed up his glasses up his nose bridge, “Really pretty.”

“Th-thank you, um, you too.”

He snickered, “No one has called me pretty before.”

“Shit, Sorry, that was weird, sorry, I’m just kinda...nervous.”

“No, not at all, I don’t mind. I appreciate the compliment.”

You stood at the doorway, awkward silence permeating the air. Suddenly, you remembered the chocolates in your hands.

“Oh, this is for you and your mother, I thought I might as well bring something over...”

Minho took it from you, and you prayed that he wouldn’t think too much of the packaging that just looked a little too wedding-y.

“Thank you for this.” He popped the box open excitedly, “What kind are they?”

It took a couple seconds, but you watched in horror as his expression turned from thrilled to deeply confused.

“What is it?” You craned your neck over to see.

“Are they...supposed to look like that?”

Inside of the little plastic compartments, each of the chocolates had melted into blobs pathetically and swirled together making one huge, brown, melted--and then solidified again--chocolate mess.

“Oh my god.” Your throat felt as tight as a knot in your embarrassment. “They’ve...”

Minho hurriedly closed the box. “It’s okay! Don’t worry about it.” He tried the best he could to suppress his laughter. “It’s still about the same.”

“No it’s not.” You whined out the words. “Don’t let your mother can’t see them, oh shit, oh shit.”

“What happened to them?”

Your horrid memory suddenly let you remember the fact that those chocolates had stayed in the car after the bridal shower when you had gone to visit your mother’s home.

“Nothing good, just-hide them--”

“Minho? Is that Y/n? Is she here?”

“--Hide it, quick!!!”

Minho shoved the box behind a large houseplant, still hiding his laughter caught in his throat.

“Ahhh Y/n! It’s so good to meet you at last! I’ve heard so much about you!”

You greeted Minho’s mother with a bow, throwing the box of chocolates a disdainful glare. She was a gentle looking woman who appeared to be a little older than your own, or, perhaps the same age. You wouldn’t be surprised if your mother had paid enough to procure the elixir of life; sounds like something she would have done.

“I’m so happy to meet you as well. Thank you for inviting me in.”

“Minho!!” His mother nudged his arm, “You didn’t tell me how pretty she was.”

Your cheeks flushed with heat when you gave another little bow in thanks. “Your home is really lovely too.”

“Oh, it was all Minho’s idea, I’m just the one that did the cooking. I’m always happy to cook for a neighbor.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ve got a couple more things to prepare, Minho, you go show her the cats, I’m sure that she’d like that--I hear that you have a cat too?”

You nodded. “Are you sure that you don’t need any help?”

“No no, you both go on, I’ll handle this.”

By each passing moment, this all started to feel a bit more like a playdate than an official meeting of one’s mother. Here you were, a grown woman, and you had gone over to someone’s house to play with their cats. Maybe you weren’t as much of a grown woman as you thought you were.

“Over here.” Minho guided you to the living room: it was a modest one with furniture that looked to be very old, with beautiful traditional pictures of landscapes with assorted baby photos hanging on the walls. Everywhere, there was little pieces of evidence of the residence of cats: cat toys, scratching pads, a couple cat carriers and the cat tree nearest the window. At the top tier of the structure, there was a white and orange cat lazing with a foot slung over the side.

“Doongie?” You carefully approached the furball to pet it’s tiny paw.

“That one is Soonie, I have two cats that look a bit similar. Doongie is probably somewhere strange. You never know cats. Mine really like hopping on top of the china cabinet; it scares my mother half to death”

“I can imagine.”

Soonie remained unbothered, little cat body peacefully sleeping.

“Over here is Dori, the youngest one.”

Dori was a bit striped, with a grey body and a white belly. The smaller cat was rolled up into a perfect cinnamon roll on the loveseat. The cat stirred hearing it’s name, and keened into Minho’s touch when he scratched its head. You copied the touch, and Dori granted you the same permission.

“You cats are so sweet...wanna trade?”

“I...think that I’m good with the cat’s I’ve got. But that is a tempting offer.”

Making a rather loud appearance was Doongie, who ambled into the room with a series of loud yowls and meows, looking up to both you and Minho with striking yellow eyes.

“Doongie!” You crouched down to give the cat scratches under it’s chin, making it purr slightly. “Did you miss me? I hope that you’ve been staying out of trouble.”

Minho’s gentle brown eyes observed your interactions with his cats, simply letting you play around with them as you wished. Every once and a while, you could catch his eyes following you with a contented little grin on his face.

There was something so domestic and comforting about the whole scene. Inside the townhouse that felt well loved and with the smell of a homecooked meal in the air, there was something so peaceful about it all that was a little foreign to you.

“Minho! Please come help me with the bowls!”

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Crickets chirped along the pathway and into the spring’s chilly nighttime air. Minho had offered to walk you home, even though you were just two houses down. Because of this, it seemed as if the two of you were walking in slow motion, taking one step after the other as slowly and carefully as you could. Absentmindedly, you both wanted just a little more time.

After spending the night being on your best behavior, you felt as if you could finally breathe. Granted, you had grandly spilled soup all over Minho’s mother, but this seemed to diffuse quickly once she had laughed raucously at the event. She was a sweet woman, with a kind soul, much like Minho. Her lightly wrinkled face shone like the sun and made you feel loved even without knowing her much.

In many ways, you wondered what it would be like having a mother as such. It was likely however, maybe you just weren’t supposed to know.

Minho cast his gaze up to the sprinkling of stars spread out over the vast sky: most of them invisible due to the closeness to the city.

“You know, I’m starting to really like living out here, in the suburbs I mean. Everything in the city was so fast and chaotic, it’s nice to sit back and let things be still for a while.”

“You don’t miss it?”

“Not as much as I did. The city...holds a lot of memories for me; some of them I’d rather forget. Being out here feels like a new start.”

The two of you stopped near the light coming from your porch. In the soft glow of yellow, coupled with the gentle navy blue tint of the night, Minho looked ethereal--perhaps even a little fairy-like.

You cursed out your writer brain for thinking of your little made up world at a time like this when you had this boy, real, in front of you.

“I had a nice time with you tonight.” Minho shoved his hands into his pants pockets with a cute little smirk. “I think my cats are a fan of you as well, so, that puts a good word in for you in my book.”

“Me too. Thank-thank you for inviting me.”

“Next time, we should do something different, I heard actually that there’s a meteor shower in a couple weeks.”

“Wait, next time?”

“Or, we could do something sooner if you’d like.”

“You want to do something else? With me?”

“Yes you, who else would I be talking about?” Minho capped his sentence with a little snicker.

“S-sorry, I just...don’t understand...why would you... I mean, I don’t do too much besides kinda hide in my house with my cat...there isn’t really a lot of things interesting about--”

Minho squatted down, sweeping something off of the sidewalk. It wasn’t until he had put it in your hair that you had realized he had taken one of the cherry blossoms from your tree to tuck it behind your ear. His head titled slightly as he admired the decoration, fingers lingering by the side of your cheek for a moment.

“I disagree.” He hushed, barely saying the words louder than a whisper. “Even though you you tent to get yourself into...situations--not that I mind anyway, you are special. Hell, and I haven’t even known you that long. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

Had it been socially acceptable, you would’ve kissed him right then and there.

If only it were that easy.

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Chapter 25

There Blaze was, standing, simple, cuts on his face and that little scar on his eyebrow twitching. The campfire illuminated his eyes with the flames, creating that brazen fire that he had gotten his name from.

Bomi knew him well. In fact, she thought she had known him better than most--a fact which she selfishly kept to herself. Blaze was everything she had known for the past year or so, and the time had interwoven their paths in ways that she had never expected. Before her was a person who knew her too, perhaps better than she knew herself.

Blaze’s callused hand rose to cup her cheek, thumb rubbing over her own battle scars.

“If you’ll not have me, please know Princess, you are the strongest warrior, bravest leader, and wisest friend that I have had the pleasure of knowing. I’ll stay by your side until I breathe my last breath.”

With a shaking hand, Bomi took Blaze’s hand resting on her cheek. She memorized the way that his skin felt on hers, making a million silent wishes that she knew would never come true.

“You and I, we both know that fate would have other plans for us...I’m sorry.”

Bomi turned from the warmth of the campfire, and the way that his eyes held hers.

She wished a million wishes, and he was nearly every one one of them.

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justapoet · 4 years ago

Text

Four-letter noun

TK thinks about how three words can summarize so many things. Then, he thinks how Carlos can summarize these words as well.

Or,

TK writes a letter to Carlos, just because three little words are not wuite enough.

(honestly I just wanted to write a letter and then I made TK write one)

“Carlos,

Honestly, this is something I've never done before, writing letters. As a child, I would think that writing down your feelings and thoughts and then addressing them to someone you care about is just so sweet, and I would wish I could do it someday. Then, I learned that no one did this anymore and that people would think it's boring and silly.

That was probably my first heartbreak.

As the years passed by, I even forgot what I used to think about letters and feelings. Everything I felt would fit in a few words or emojis, so complex sentences or long texts were just unnecessary.

Then I met you, and, of course, you had to prove me wrong.

I've heard already that people use "I love you" to summarize all the things they want to say and all the feelings they feel. Thinking about it, it does make sense. If they make you feel love, then you love them ― duh. But it also makes me wonder what composes love in its totality.

Frankly, the conclusion I got to was you.

Cliché, yeah, I know. And I wish I could verbalize everything that made me get to this ― you ― conclusion, but the thing is that every time I try to tell you, you're right in front of me, and you leave me breathless.

And I simultaneously feel like I can breathe.

All my life, I have been searching for one feeling to take over my chest and bones, making me feel warm and safe and happy. I have been craving for this feeling to make my bad days turn into good ones, that feeling people describe in books and stories, that one feeling that would make me feel whole again.

Now I know I will never find this one feeling. Because, and only because, it doesn't exist.

The truth is that "love" is a word used to summarize a myriad of feelings, so you don't have to list them all every time. "Love" is a word to epitomize smiles and tears and laughs ― "love" is a word to synthesize you.

I found out that loving someone is to be scared and ridiculously safe at the same time. Is when your partner calls me, and I don't know if I'll be heading to the hospital or feeling my heart melt because your phone died and you asked her to tell me that you're thinking about me.

I found out that loving someone is to be happy and pathetically sad at once. Is when you call me in the middle of the night because you can't sleep and just wanted to hear me breathing, so you know I'll be back home.

I also found out that loving someone means that people fight, and, sometimes, you're both going to be wrong or right. It's when Michelle and Paul have to put our heads in the right place, because, after all, the color of the wedding invitations is not as important as the names on them.

After all these years, I found out that "love" is just a simple way to talk about happiness, evolving, mistakes, and the future. Loving someone means that you can feel everything all at once, and it's going to be chaotic. Yet, you're going to choose to go back to that chaos.

I have been alone in chaos before, and ours sounds like music.

I'd be pleased to dance to it forever if you lead me ― I'm a disaster on the dance floor, you know.

After all those years, I also figured why people used to write letters instead of just saying they loved each other ― three words don't seem to be enough to fit so many feelings. It sounds deeply unfair to compact so many sentences in a four-letter noun.

It might be hypocritical of me to say that since I will be compacting all of these words here ― and a bunch of others I'm still trying to fit in sentences ― in a wedding band a week from now. But I'm not truly worried about it ― can hypocrisy be put in "love" as well?

Some people say love is hypothetical, while others swear it's metaphorical ― I thought it was paradoxical, but you make perfect sense, so I got lost in my conclusions. Maybe you should think about stopping to ruin my convictions.

Honestly, this is something I have never done before, writing letters. I see now that it's because this is also something I've never done before ― loving someone with all the feelings inside a four-letter noun.

That is probably my first heartbeat.

The four-letter noun,

Ty(ger).”

There were soft, warm kisses on his neck and a wet cheek against his jawline.

He was pretty sure the sun didn't come up yet since his skin wasn't warm from the sunlight sneaking through the curtains, and Carlos usually didn't wake him up when he got back from a shift ― he'd curl himself with TK and make sure his fiancé wouldn't steal all the blankets in the middle of the night by letting the paramedic use him as a body pillow ―, so the delicate kisses, although sweet and welcome, made his body become alert.

It changed, though, when he heard the low rustle of paper and opened his eyes to find the letter he had written the day before over his bedside table. One of Carlos' hands delicately touched his waist, his arm slowly wrapping TK's body, and he could feel more kisses over his neck, arm and face when he turned his head a little in the detective's direction.

"I love you, too," the sweet voice whispered against his ear. TK chuckled, turning his body so he could hug his fiancé comfortably. He felt a kiss being placed on his forehead, sighing before hiding his head on the crook of Carlos' neck and lightly kissing the skin he could reach.

Those were the exact moments he couldn't fit in a four-letter noun.

#tarlos fic #tarlos #911 lone star fic #911 lone star #carlos reyes #tk strand #paramedic tk #paramedic tk strand #carlos reyes x tk strand #tk strand x carlos reyes #carlos x tk #tk x carlos #my fic #my writing

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robotslenderman · 4 years ago

Text

Someone on Reddit was asking why labels were important and I went into a whole goddamn essay because my Vyvanse is kicking in.

TLDR - Labels are important for communication. Without communication, we are isolated. Sexuality is so fundamental to our experiences as human beings that being able to describe those experiences succinctly can mean the difference between feeling isolated and feeling connected. Also sneering at ace people for microlabels dismisses the asexual experience as so unimportant that we SHOULDN'T be able to describe our exact experience of it, when discussing asexuality often requires these labels because of how varied and complicated the asexual experience is.

I've been waffling on the fence about microlabels but I've decided that no, microlabels aren't overthinking it, for the reasons I discuss below. In the past I've reblogged things saying that microlabels are about isolation instead of connection, that further dividing our sexuality into smaller and smaller boxes creates increasingly exclusive clubs.

I no longer believe that. I believe it does the opposite. I believe that being in touch with your sexuality just as much as you need to helps you connect to others even outside your microlabel, not just within it, because then it makes it clearer to everyone involved what experiences you have in common and makes it easier to set aside the ones you don't.

You don't understand how important labels are until you've struggled without one. It's human nature to use language to describe our experiences, and when we don't have the language to do so it is stressful and isolating. Because language is how we connect to other people, so when we can't use easy language to summarise our experiences, it becomes isolating.

My personal experience - I struggled with my asexuality for years, even before I began to realise that I was asexual. Even once I started letting myself admit it, I didn't feel that the word "asexual" was enough. Sure, I could explain to people "I'm asexual and don't want to have sex, but I love sex in theory and in novels and I love reading about romance and daydreaming about them, but don't want a relationship." That's a very specific type of asexuality that people don't think of when they hear "asexual". People hear "asexual" and think "doesn't like sex."

But people use labels because others don't want to stick around and listen to your dissertation on what your sexuality actually is, they want bite sized information as soon as possible and sometimes YOU want to describe who you are without spending a ton of time explaining it. It's not just because I want to understand myself, it's because I want other people to, too, and labels is how we communicate. It's the fundamentals of how language works. Labels are so important that they consist of two entire grammatical categories - adjectives and nouns.

So when I found out about aegosexuality? I was like "oh thank god, I'm not a broken asexual, I'm this specific TYPE of asexual."

Most people haven't heard of aegosexuality. I used to actually roll my eyes at microlabels like that, thinking it was needlessly self absorbed and pretentious. But now I get it. Now I have the ABILITY to summarise my experiences in one word, and it turns out that having that ability to use language efficiently to describe myself has brought me quite a significant amount of peace. Because when I tell people I'm asexual, they often have a certain idea in their heads of what asexuality is, and I don't fit under most of that. Many asexuals don't, because asexuality is the most complicated sexuality there is.

But god is it fucking exhausting to say "I'm asexual" and then have to hold a fucking Q and A session about how I'm asexual and yes, I really am asexual even though I'm not adhering to someone else's idea of what asexuality is. By knowing I'm aegosexual, I can say, "oh, you're thinking of X type of asexuality, which is when you experience Y. I'm aegosexual, which means that I still get horny and love sex in fiction, but I don't personally want to experience it, unlike X type of sexuality which doesn't like sex at ALL."

And then people get it! They don't get "I'm asexual, but different." That just makes them think I'm not actually asexual, or that I'm an allo in denial who needs therapy to be "fixed". They get "I'm asexual, but this specific type of asexuality that has a name." People respond to names. People respond to labels. They GET labels, even ones they haven't heard of, even ones they roll their eyes at because they think we're over thinking it because they assume that because their sexuality is so fucking simple, everyone else's must be too.

I still tell people I'm asexual because a lot of the time my type of asexuality isn't actually important. Actually, most of the time I tell them I'm queer and leave it vague because queer is a wonderful umbrella word and my sexuality isn't anyone's business. For me, "queer" is often enough because it communicates that my experience isn't a straight one, and that's usually all people need to know.

But having that label just on *hand* that describes my experiences, and having the option to use it to people who do know what it means, and being able to hand it to people who are lost like I used to be lost -

That's powerful. It's important. It *matters*.

It's not like needing a label for yourself because you prefer pineapple on pizza, this is sexuality, this is the kind of thing that makes or breaks your experiences with other human beings. When you're straight your sexuality is so simple and easy that you don't even need to think about it. You're straight. That's easy. And as homosexuality becomes more accepted I'm seeing baby gays start to take that attitude as well because they're gay and as homosexuality becomes less stigmatised, it's allowed to become more simple.

But other sexualities don't have that luxury.

Bisexuality and pansexuality are more complicated because often people experience a split attraction model, or they don't have equal attraction to different genders and they're not fully comfortable describing themselves as bi or pan because again, people hear "bisexual" or "pansexual" and assume that you experience the same amount of attraction to different genders and it's important to be able to communicate to people that no, you don't. The whole point of using a word is so that the other people understand you - if they don't understand the word, they don't understand YOU. So I think bisexuality and pansexuality is also a spectrum in that there's different types of both depending on how your attraction works, and that it would help bi and pan people to have more specific words - using bisexual and pansexual as an umbrella term much like queer and asexual - to allow them to better communicate their experiences.

And asexuality is, I think, the most complicated sexuality of all. It's based not just on who you're attracted to, like other sexualities, but if you're attracted at ALL. No other sexuality has a footnote attached of "but this one likes sex" or "this one doesn't like sex" or "this one is indifferent to sex". Even bisexuality and pansexuality don't. It also has the contradictory feature of involving some level of attraction - demisexuals and grey aces experience attraction! Just only under specific circumstances. The split attraction model is also much more significant; whereas some bisexual people are explicitly homo- or heteroromantic, many asexuals are not aromantic, and many aromantic people are not asexual. This is far more common with us.

It's also the ONLY sexuality where the split attraction communities are actively hostile to each other. Aromantic people have lately been slinging a lot of shit at asexual people because in their need to be told apart from us (I say "us" even though I'm aromantic myself because I'm also asexual), some have gone to the extreme of showing outright hostility to asexual people and show offence for being associated with us at all. When I thought that I was bi, for example, I NEVER saw this kind of shit between homoromantic bis, heteroromantic bis and biromantic bis. Only the asexual and aromantic community has this hostility.

I respect that aros don't want people to mistake them for asexual people and that's important for the same reasons I've been discussing in this entire essay, but here I'm referring to outright hostility aimed AT asexuals because of other people's failures to understand them. "Aromanticism isn't the same as asexuality" is not hostility. Treating asexual people like garbage - or even aroace people because they dare to exist as asexual AND aromantic - is hostility. This hostility is rising.

So asexuality is deeply complicated, and when you have completed concepts, you need simple labels to communicate that. And frankly - allos don't fucking get it. Bi and pan people do to a certain level, but their sexuality, while more complicated than being gay or straight, is still not as complicated as asexuality. That's not a bad thing, having a more complicated sexuality doesn't make us superior, nor is complication the same thing as depth. Other sexualities are not shallow for lacking the same level of complication, nor should they be taken less seriously.

But it does mean each sexuality has nuance to it that you can't understand without being that sexuality, and it's vital not to fall into the same trap straight people do that your experience of sexuality applies to everyone else, of assuming that because your sexuality isn't complicated to you that it must be the same for everyone else or we're overthinking it. And it's important for us to be able to succinctly sum up our sexuality so that we can share our experiences.

People who've never faced that don't understand how important it is to feel connected to people by being able to efficiently describe yourself. To use language is to connect, to use language and labels is to communicate. Without that, it's an isolating experience, simply because people do not fucking want to hear you bring out a PowerPoint presentation to talk about yourself when they just want one word. And when you're talking about something that defines your human experience, that makes your ability to communicate it THE difference between being isolated and disconnected, and feeling human.

Having different levels of labels helps, too. Sure, I'm aegosexual, but even if most people knew what that meant, most of the time it's completely fucking irrelevant. Most of the time all I need to do is say I'm queer - because I'm communicating that my experience isn't a straight one (or a cis one, if you're queer because of your gender). Sometimes I need to say I'm aroace, or just asexual, because that's what the conversation calls for. It's only when discussing asexuality itself that I actually need to say I'm aegosexual - but that's important, too.

Discussion of asexuality is no less important than being able to say I'm ace, or that I'm queer, and a lot of allos think that distinguishing yourself from straight people is important, that distinguishing yourself from non straight people is important, but asexuality itself is so unimportant that we're not allowed to distinguish ourselves among each other. And that's just another form of aphobia. It doesn't mean that we're going "ew, we're not THOSE asexuals" like I've been seeing in the arosexual community lately, it's being able to say "this is my experience of asexuality, so I'm viewing our discussion through THIS lens, whereas you might not."

And it's so fucking typical that allos think that that shouldn't be important to us. I regret ever thinking the same.

At the end of the day, we need language. It describes our experiences, and without being able to describe those experiences, we are isolated. We need language and labels to connect.

#Dusty has opinions #I need to stop talking on the internet when my Vyvanse kicks in #I just don't fucking stop

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nerdygaymormon · 4 years ago

Note

I’m sorry if this has been asked before, but- can I, as a gay person, go to heaven? I was reading in 1 Corinthians 6:9, which says “Know ye not that the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God? Be not deceived: neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor abusers of themselves with mankind,” and the footnote on ‘abusers of themselves’ states that this means homosexual behavior. It just makes me really sad and scared. Do I have to change to receive the blessing of god? Am I not a whole person worth of his kingdom? I just feel so lost and hurt.

Let’s first look at the scripture in 1 Corinthians 6:9-10

Know ye not that the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God? Be not deceived: neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor abusers of themselves with mankind, Nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners, shall inherit the kingdom of God.

All of the terms in Paul’s list, except for the first and last, appear to have been intentionally paired together:

idolatry was often associated with adultery in the Old Testament

makakoi and arsenokoitai

thieves and coveters both passionately want what belongs to others

drunkenness often leads to reviling (slander)

There’s some question over the proper translation of some terms in verse 9.

The Greek word makakoi means “soft, delicate.”

Arsenokoitai is a compound noun, joining arsen (“male”) and koite (“bed,” inferring sex). Paul seems to have invented this word.

Since they are paired by Paul, the translators let arsenokoitai determine their word choice for makakoi. Other English translations of the Bible generally use words to indicate male prostitutes or young call boys for makakoi.

Modern scholars have interpreted makakoi and arsenokoitai generally as young (effeminate) male prostitutes and the men who bought their services. The scholars also interpret these words as the passive and active partners in same-sex activity (”bottom” and “top”). It wasn’t respectable for a male Roman citizen to take the women’s role in sex, so they were expected to be the “active” partner. Rather than homosexuality, the footnote could just as easily mention pederasty, pedophilia or prostitution as possible meaning of these words.

Following this list of vices, Paul discusses prostitution at some length (1 Cor 6:12-20), talking about “fornication” and “harlots." Paul has sex outside of marriage on his mind.

Paul is talking about a way of life in which we allow ourselves to be governed by worldly appetites rather than by the Spirit. He’s speaking against prostitutes or random hook-ups, where sex is being pursued for sex’s sake. Yet no one believes he is condemning sex between heterosexual married individuals. We likewise shouldn’t assume he’s forbidding relationships of commitment and love and trust between people of the same gender. That would be an inconsistent way of applying scriptures.

————————————————————

There’s some new Mormon folk doctrine being created about LGBTQ+ people because we don’t fit into the Plan of Salvation, or at least not the version of The Plan the church has.

Because the church sees no gay people in The Plan, the church used to say that no one is gay, and leaders give all sorts of reasons that might make someone have these attractions (overbearing mother, absent father, lack of faith, masturbation, and so on). The church also taught that anyone who experiences these attractions can change and become straight.

Several church leaders even taught that if gay people couldn’t change, that would frustrate God’s plan. Therefore God wouldn’t make it so people couldn’t change while also forbidding them from getting married.

The church was wrong.

The church now says it doesn’t know why anyone experiences these attractions, but acknowledges people have same-sex attractions. In General Conference several times it’s been said we don’t expect these attractions to change. A few years ago the church ceased conversion therapies which tried to turn queer people straight.

Yet the church hasn’t addressed the idea that God wouldn’t make people this way and forbid them from getting married.

To get around this problem, some in the church are now saying that gay people will be changed to become straight after they die, and then they can get married and have all the blessings.

That’s certainly inventive, but I don’t know any scriptures that would support this idea that someone undergoes a complete metamorphosis of who they are to someone else.

I have serious concerns about the Church saying to stay in church and remain alone and you’ll be blessed. If this is God’s will for us, why don’t we have resources to help us do this? We aren’t given ways to do this in a healthy way. In fact, this sort of path is usually accompanied by many negative impacts to our mental health and quality of life.

Think about single cishet members of the church. They have leaders assigned to them to be aware of their concerns at the ward and stake level. There’s activities and groups arranged for them so they can meet and socialize and study the gospel together. Their ministering brothers & sisters are asked to be especially sensitive to them, to be available to give them blessings, to make sure they feel welcome to church activities. No such care is given to LGBTQIA members.

————————————————————

The best advice I can give you is to trust yourself, listen to your feelings, pray and ask about your path in life, the next steps.

If the Spirit says it’s okay to date, to pursue a relationship, then you know that this is approved by God, no matter what the church thinks about it.

When I date a woman, try to hold her hand, it’s just, idk. It’s a chore. Yes, I can like her as a friend, but that’s it. I don’t feel any spark or deep connection. But if I’m on a date with a man, I feel a little giddy. Holding his hand is exciting, a kiss is electric. I feel things I don’t with women, I feel complete, whole, it feels so natural and right. All the love songs suddenly made sense.

When I envision what an ideal life for me would be, I see me with a husband in a loving home, going to church, and doting on grandkids. Why do I feel such warm feelings when I picture this when the church says God wouldn’t want this for me? This may not become my reality, but there is a part of me that yearns for it.

————————————————————

Will a gay person go to heaven? I don’t know, I can’t answer that. I don’t know what a post-mortal life looks like. And frankly, no one else does either. If anyone claims they know, ask them what a typical day in heaven is like, what do people do? They can’t answer that.

What I will say is that God loves LGBTQIA+ people. God doesn’t respond to fervent prayers to “fix” us because being gay or trans isn’t “broken.” God intends for us to live our lives as queer people. God also wants us to have joy in our existence, and one way to do that is having a very close, intimate relationship with another person whom we love and who has our back.

I also don’t think any of us are powerful enough to thwart God’s plan for us. The longer I live, the more I think we don’t have a blueprint to follow, but instead we co-create our path forward in life with God.

Some LGBTQIA+ people feel called to stay in the church, perhaps just for now or perhaps for all their life. Others come back to church after their spouse dies. Great. I’m not saying there’s one path for all gay or queer people.

In a sense, we have the opportunity to use our agency, our ability to make choices, in a broader sense than other members of the church because they have so many rules and policies and advice given to them. They choose whether to follow the path the church gives to them, we have to imagine what possibilities are open to us.

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faulty-writes · 5 years ago

Text

Warning: A Few Swears, Mentions Of Blood, Mentions of Injuries.

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Pairing: Dabi x Reader

[First part located here. Third part located here]

[Requested tag: @marydragneell]

[As requested, this is the second part of my Soulmate Sensations. Since your fateful meeting, you had been unable to feel Dabi. No pain, no nothing and it’s driving you mad. Aizawa kept to his word and kept his eye on you, but you had a promise you needed to keep and you were about to get desperate.]

Life /līf/

Noun:

the sequence of physical and mental experiences that make up the existence of an individual

You could hear the rain continue to echo off the rooftop of U.A., you were currently in the Development Studio. A piece of equipment laid before you on the table, but you hadn’t touched it since you entered the studio hours ago. You were currently sitting on your work stool, your eyes focused on your hands. Your fingers moved ever so slightly and the burn scars from Dabi were still imprinted on your skin, which at this point was almost a comfort. The thought of the villain caused your heart to sink, It was strange, how much you missed the pain. Despite having to deal with it for years, without it. You felt like nothing.

It just wasn’t fair! It had been a month, maybe more since the mission and Aizawa had kept his word. You could not volunteer for missions, no matter how small or big. You could only work in the Development Studio but your work itself had been shotty and everyone noticed your change in behavior. You were depressed, had a lack of motivation and overall you weren’t yourself. You played it off using stupid excuses like you were tired or simply preoccupied with your own thoughts.

It was strange how one person, how one villain could consume your mind. “Y/n!” you snapped out of your thoughts when you heard your name and turned your head to the doorway where Aizawa stood. Almost immediately you narrowed your eyes. “School hours are over, time to go.” you blinked before looking at the clock, how did it get that late already? If you were being honest, you had grown to have quite a dislike towards Aizawa since the day he decided to punish you. But regardless, you slid off your stool and walked past him.

It was no better at home, you felt empty and you continued to stare at your hands almost like they’d produce Dabi’s flames. “Ah damn it all!” you shouted as you sat on your couch, your hands curling into fists. You were beyond frustrated, everyone else got a happy ending but you, your ending was ruined because of Deku and you sighed. “No …” you said as you ran your hand through your hair. It wasn’t their fault, they didn’t know what was going on. You hadn’t told anyone about your soulmate calling and now it was too late to tell anyone without looking like a fool.

“What am I going to do?” with each day that passed you felt more hopeless and despite your best efforts in trying to track Dabi down yourself. You were at a loss, the League of Villains seemed quiet lately and the news proved to have no leads you could follow. You felt like a sitting duck, just what the hell were you supposed to do? Part of you wondered if Dabi was missing you too or if it was just a one-sided emotion. Well, it didn’t matter, either way, you made a promise and a hero you never went back on your promises.

But still, the question of how you’d go through with your promise was up in the air, Aizawa wouldn’t let you volunteer for missions but that didn’t mean you didn’t hear about them. The Hero Course students were constantly going on missions. But you hated the idea of waiting even longer than you already were. Though no other option was working, so did you really have a choice? Maybe that was the only solution, just listen and wait around for the Hero Course to talk about their missions and follow behind them if one sounded right? Usually, those who were selected for a mission met outside the gates of U.A. so it wasn’t too complicated.

You groaned and laid down on the sofa, your arm draped over your eyes. Your head was beginning to ache from the constant thoughts and you honestly hated yourself. Maybe it was best you told someone about what was happening, but who on Earth would be crazy enough to listen to you and do it without judgment? You paused, wait there was one person and you had class with her every day. “Would she really …” you spoke to yourself and slowly sat up, your feet tapping against the floor. It was a long shot, but it might just work.

You took a deep breath before falling back onto the couch, pulling a nearby blanket over you. Another sleepless night awaited you but at least when you did manage to sleep, you dreamed of Dabi so it was almost worth it. The next day at the Development Studio you cornered Mei, “EH!? You want me TO BUILD YOU SOMETHING!?” she screamed in your face, though you knew it was only out of excitement and not because she was angry with you. “Yes.” you watched her smile and she reached out to grab your shoulders, bringing her face closer to yours. “WHAT sort of BABY would you LIKE!?” you blinked, where the hell did she get all this energy from?

But still, she had helped you in the past and she was your best shot at getting all the precautions you needed. “I need another set of Hydraulic Bracers, uh sorry about what happened to them,” you said as your glance turned to the side, they had gotten pretty busted up in the aftermath of your small fight with Dabi. You were just thankful Mei wasn’t the vengeful type, in fact, she seemed overjoyed because she could redesign them. Still a small part of you felt guilty.

Pushing that feeling aside, you continued, “I would also need another pair of Hover Soles, preferably with the sensor this time.” Mei smiled and released your shoulders, “AH YES! I can make those for you easy!” she declared, her fists raised in the air. “Uh ...yeah,” you said before taking a step away. “I would also need some type of arm bracers that can produce enough pressure to deflect ...fire.” Mei paused, lowering her hands before looking at you from over her shoulder. Her eyebrow was raised and you knew she would probably ask questions.

You sighed, lowering your head. “Does this HAVE anything to do with the fact you’ve been ACTING so weird lately?” you blinked, a little surprised that even Mei noticed your change of behavior, usually she was too involved with her latest invention to notice the world around her. Your heart raced as you lifted your head, looking at her with a frown. Should you tell her? You weren’t sure where your life was going to go if you did this, more than likely you felt if you went after Dabi your life as a hero would be over.

But maybe that was for the best, it was clear you couldn’t get over Dabi and while you expected the way you felt to lessen as time went on, it only seemed to get worse. Others gave up their lives for the people they loved, couldn’t you do the same for your soulmate? Your heart and your brain were in constant battle but it seems they both longed for Dabi. A sigh escaped your lips, “Do you really want to know the story behind that?” you questioned and Mei looked at you with a curious expression before sitting down, patting the stool next to her.

You took a deep breath, “Here goes nothing.” you muttered to yourself before taking the seat and began to tell your story. You had expected Mei to be shocked, tell you it was a bad idea, refuse to make you those weapons but instead, she smiled. “So you want to find this Dabi pretty bad huh?” you nodded. “I see ...hm.” she leaned back, tapping her chin with one of her gloved fingers. “I thought you’d refuse to help me after you heard my story,” you confessed before Mei turned her head, those eyes of hers bright and her smile wide.

“NONSENSE!” she exclaimed as she waved you off, “Frankly, I don’t understand the idea of soulmates my only love is my BABIES, but!” she paused and leaned close to you, her finger pointed at your face. “If it’s meant to be and he’s your SO CALLED soulmate, I think I can understand the NEED to want to BE WITH HIM.” you glanced to the side, a nervous chuckle leaving your lips. But you felt a little relieved, at least someone was on your side. “Though one thing still CONCERNS me, however, I THINK I have FIGURED IT OUT.” she declared and leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You said you couldn’t FEEL him anymore correct?” your heart sank as you were yet again reminded of that, but nonetheless you nodded. “It is possible that ONCE you met him, your calling of sensation broke? Think about it, there are VARIOUS stories out there that claim once your soulmate is FOUND the ability you used to find them disappears. I think it’s because in MOST cases you’d well, have a happy ending.” your eyes widened, you hadn’t thought about that. But it would make sense. Despite having felt pain during your battle against Dabi, it wasn’t until after he kissed you that the sensation went away.

So was it that the physical affection he gave broke the connection? You weren’t sure, there were still so many unanswered questions but the only way they would be answered is if you found him again. You looked down, sighing. “Maybe ...but that’s why I need those items. Dabi’s quirk is fire and I narrowly escaped it last time.” the memories flashed in your mind while Mei placed her hands on her hips. “Well, a good designer can meet all the reckless, ignorant, and ill-advised demands of the client. I’ll make the items for you! BUT it might take ...a month, maybe more.” the hope you felt shattered when you heard those words.

“A month …” you repeated, your shoulders slumping again. Mei frowned at your display and reached over to lay her hand on your shoulder. “It’ll be worth it.” you knew she was trying to cheer you up but honestly, the thought of waiting was driving you mad. You sighed yet again, “Are you sure about that?” you questioned, looking back at her with uncertain eyes. She only nodded in response, “Besides I can tell you aren’t EXACTLY focused on your work right now. I know under NORMAL circumstances you could create these yourself.” you looked at her surprised and blushed.

“Well uh, you ...you were always better at this stuff than I was,” you confessed before glancing at your hands, “I thought my support course work was going to be the only thing I’d love but …” you trailed off and Mei smiled. “THAT’S OKAY! You don’t have to explain, I’ll start on those items for you,” she said as she walked over to her work table and pulled out a sheet of blue paper. You looked at her as she began to sketch, Mei certainly knew how to tug on your heartstrings. “Uh Mei …” you began, watching her pause and look over her shoulder.

“Uh, I just wanted to say thanks …” she chuckled and saluted you. “NO PROBLEM!” grinning she turned back to her work. You, however, continued to sit on the stool. For the past month, you had done nothing productive. Perhaps you’d be smarter this time, you reached up tapping your chin. “Hey Mei …” you said and once more watched her perk up and look at you. “Could you do me one more favor, I know I’m asking a lot,” you said knowing that you’d have to repay her after all of the shit you were dragging her through.

“What is it?” she questioned, her dreadlocks moving slightly as she tilted her head. Latching onto your bottom lip, you actually debated for a split moment about telling her. But you had already started so might as well finish. “Can you keep an ear out when you’re around the hero course students? I want to know what missions they have and if any of them will ...led me back to ...Dabi.” Mei looked surprised a moment, her eyes wide but her expression soon softened. “I see, I’ll try my best. I usually run into Deku once a day so I’ll keep my ears open and my eyes peeled.” you chuckled, feeling your heart flutter.

“Thank you Mei, I just ...I just really needed someone on my side,” you said, reaching up to brush a piece of your hair back. Mei nodded, “No problem, I GUESS it’s in the name of LOVE so.” you chuckled again, “I guess that’s one way to put it.” you said before sliding off the stool. Slowly walking to your work table where you picked up the gadget lying there. Twirling it in your hands, it was only half complete and you could see the inside of it. You looked around the workshop, this is where your journey first began and it seemed this is where your journey would end as well.

You looked back to the gadget, “This is going to be a long month.” you said before deciding to try and get some work done after all. You almost felt like an undercover agent as the days began to pass, Mei and yourself would work in the studio together. She would tell you all she knew about the hero course missions and you were beginning to lose hope, each mission she had heard about only sounded like the bottom of the barrel average everyday filler missions. You decided to do some snooping of your own and stood outside the teacher’s lounge, hoping to overhear something but Aizawa almost caught you.

So it was back to hearing reports from Mei. For a moment, you thought about falling back on your previous plan of trying to track Dabi down yourself. Maybe there was a step you missed? Damn, you knew it was hard but why did it seem like your life was going downhill ever since you met Dabi? It wasn’t his fault and maybe you only felt this way because for the first time in your life you were experiencing love for something other than your support work.

24 days passed and the small high you felt was declining, “What am I going to do …” you spoke to yourself as you walked through the halls of U.A, your destination, the Development Studio. Your fellow students looked at you as you passed them but you ignored their stares, you knew you probably looked exhausted, your mind somewhere else. Upon arriving at your destination, you walked through the door to see Mei and Midoriya talking to one another. “Yeah, the mission is going to be a little tough. But I’m ready, it’s time to stop the League of Villains before they steal more of those drugs.” you blinked, wait ...drugs?!

You watched Midoriya turn to you, “Oh,” he smiled and waved. “Hey y/n, I’m glad to see you’re doing better. It’s been about two months since our last mission,” he said as he approached you. “I hope you’re doing okay, uh I know Aizawa isn’t the nicest when it comes to punishments.” you felt that anger boil inside you at the mention of the teacher and nodded. “Yeah, it’s not exactly fair,” you muttered with your arms crossed and your glance to the side. You heard Midoriya chuckle, more than likely feeling awkward because of your response.

“Uh, yeah ...um sorry. But if it means anything, I think you did a wonderful job.” you wanted to roll your eyes, but you knew what happened wasn’t Midoriya’s fault. “Yeah, well thanks …” you trailed off and let the moment of silence take over, “Heh uh …” Midoriya reached up, rubbing the back of his head. “Well uh, I’ll see you later, thanks again Mei!” he said before running out of the studio. Your eyes followed him before turning back to Mei who had a huge smile on her face. “What was that about?” you questioned and heard her chuckle in response.

She placed her hand on her hip and pointed a finger at you. “Not SURE, but I think YOU finally found your break.” your eyes widened and you dropped your backpack onto the floor. “What do you mean?” she chuckled and tapped her cheek. “Midoriya was talking about the newest mission he signed up for, something about he needed a certain weapon for it but he mentioned drugs and I’m assuming the mission is not only related to the League of Villains but your previous one.” you felt your heart skip as Mei turned to fish something out of a cardboard box.

You stood there a moment before she turned back to you and in her hands was a brand new Hydraulic Bracer. Your jaw dropped and you looked at Mei with teary eyes. “I finished it LAST NIGHT, I’m hoping I can GET some sleep now. But I also have those Hover Soles you asked for!” she said as she approached you and unclasped the bracer. You felt a wave of happiness as she clasped you in, “Hm.” you pushed down on the bracer, it felt a little heavier than her previous one. But that was likely to make it more durable.

“NOW, let’s try them out,” Mei suggested as she held up a button which made you nervous and for a moment you prayed the device wouldn’t blow up. “What do you mean test-ah!” your sentence was cut short when a metal leg came out and made your world spin before you finally landed on the opposite side of the room. “Okay then …” you said before finally stabilizing your legs. “PERFECT. It works!” Mei said, patting herself on the back which you found both endearing and silly. But she was a master of her craft, so you couldn’t really blame her for being happy over the fact an invention worked. Especially considering most of them blew up.

“Now, let’s try the hover soles.” she insisted and your shoulders slumped. “Okay …” you said, a bit hesitant as you walked over and took your seat. Mei strapped them to your feet and the back of them ran up your legs which also meant there were straps securely tied to your calves. You took a breath and stood on your feet, Mei clicked the button once again. “Ah …” your arms waved back and forth as you were lifted a couple inches off the ground, trying to get a sense of balance but it was proving to be a difficult task and you ended up falling onto the floor sideways.

For a brief moment, you felt frustrated as you pushed yourself up, your feet still floating in the air before Mei disabled them. “Well ...THAT’S OKAY,” she said as if trying to cheer you up. “YOU just need PRACTICE! You can teach yourself quickly, my hover soles are easy to navigate once you get the hang of them.” she insisted as she held her hand out to help you up and though you were still frustrated, you took her hand and stood back on your feet. “Besides, I still need to make that compact FIRE DEFLECTION wrist braces for you. Shouldn’t take more than another two weeks,” she informed you before patting you on the back.

Yet more burden was placed upon your shoulders, just two more weeks. “Wait ...when is the mission Midoriya spoke about?” you questioned, a little concerned Mei wouldn’t be able to make your requested item on time. “OH THAT.” she chuckled and waved you off. “The students still need to prepare and make a plan for that, I’m sure Aizawa informed them that he doesn’t want any failures this time.” your eyes narrowed, more than likely he only said that because he blames you for being the cause of failure last time.

“Hm, I see …” you said, your eyes shifting to the side and Mei took note of your behavior. “I also have to finish the piece of equipment Midoriya requested, I will complete yours first and once that’s finished I will complete Midoriya’s and then …” she paused and you looked at her as she approached you, resting her hands on your shoulders. “We’ll make a plan so you can find Dabi again, I would suggest following the group. But we have to be SMART about it.” you had to admit, you thought about trailing behind the students but you knew that was too risky unless you did it the right way.

You took a breath, reaching up to clasp your hands over Mei’s. Taking a moment to look at her expression, she was the only person you could trust at this point. “I’m willing to exchange plans on that if you are,” you said before smiling, finally everything seemed to be falling into place. But there were still loose ends that you had to make sure were tied, you couldn’t risk giving up or failing at this point. Aizawa seemed to be your biggest enemy at the moment, but when it came right down to it. You’d be willing to fight even All Might if it meant you had a chance at seeing Dabi.

As you entered the beginning of a new month, despite feeling like you couldn’t wait any longer. Mei, as promised, finished your requested item, it strapped easily to your wrists and had large slots to produce air pressure that could hopefully defect Dabi’s flames enough for you to create a diversion. You tried to resume your normal life in school, having been able to complete a few requests of your own between your discussions with Mei. Though it was a long shot, she agreed she would tag along with you and trail behind the mission students from a safe distance.

She could easily track them with her quirk and she even suggested allowing a drone to keep sight from the sky in case she somehow lost track of the students. Part of you could hardly believe this was happening, you felt butterflies in your stomach. A small amount of doubt did cross your mind, but you knew that was silly. Even if your plan was compromised, you wouldn’t give up. This was something you needed to do, regardless if it ruined your career as a support hero. Maybe that was a chance you were willing to take, giving up your life for someone else’s.

Another few days passed before Mei informed you she had finished Midoriya’s new weapon and she had even gathered the intel about when and where the mission students were meeting. As per usual they would wait outside the school before departing to the location. Mei suggested waiting at the opposite end of the school building in order to give yourselves distance before following. You thought that was your best shot, you had trained enough with your new weapons to be able to handle your own.

The morning of the mission, you had gotten up early. Dressed in a skinsuit complete with a tunic that was similar to Suneater’s. You wore boots though they were covered by the hover soles, the hydraulic bracer was securely strapped around your waist as well as the air pressure stabilizers which strapped to your wrists and had wires that connected a small compressed air tank that was hidden beneath your tunic. You couldn’t describe the number of butterflies you were feeling as you looked at yourself in the mirror but your expression was serious. There was no going back now.

You met Mei outside the front gates of U.A. She was dressed in her U.A. uniform complete with her goggles. “Ah, there you are! COME ON, before they show up.” she insisted as she grabbed your arm and dragged you behind the school. “I SET UP a drone, I designed it to be as QUIET as possible.” she shared before taking out her phone, you hovered over her shoulder as she pressed a sequence of buttons which brought up a small screen that looked to be the video feedback from the drone. You blinked, “Are you sure this is going to work? They won’t spot it will they?” you questioned and Mei waved you off.

“This will work, shh. I think they are gathering.” the screen narrowed in on the group of students, you could clearly make out Midoriya, Togata, Amajiki, and Katsuki. You almost wanted to laugh, they thought you were the reason for failure last time so they replaced you with the ticking time bomb? You crossed your arms, pushing your own feelings aside as you continued to watch. You saw Aizawa come into frame, giving the heroes the rundown of the mission before they began to depart. Those butterflies only got worse as the minutes ticked by and you waited for Mei to confirm when you could begin to follow.

Though you couldn’t see ahead of you like Mei and her quirk, you trusted her as you walked. It seems hours had passed by and you were somewhere past Shizuoka, Japan. A location about two hours from Tokyo. Your feet would have ached if not for the aid of the hover soles you had, hovering was so much easier than walking. Once you had found out what location the heroes were headed for, you quickly learned it was an abandoned light factory. But then again, that would make sense, if the League of Villains was behind this they would pick a secluded location.

Mei insisted on waiting until the heroes got into their positions and until something happened, your eyes were getting tired of looking at the phone screen and it was getting dark. You yawned and Mei quickly silenced you, “Shh,” you blinked, “Why shh? What’s happening-” you had leaned over her shoulder to look when she clasped her hand over your mouth. You looked at her confused before your eyes caught the glint of headlights on the screen, “Hm?” you removed her hand and continued to watch, just like before it seemed the villains thought it was smart to arrive in an unnamed vehicle.

Your heart pounded with anticipation as you watched the doors open, your hands were clenched so tight you were surprised your bones didn’t break. “Please Dabi …” you whispered, he needed to be here. You held your breath as four men stepped out and sure enough, your heart skipped a beat when one of them was Dabi. He was wearing the same outfit as last time and his hands were in his pockets, his head was tilted towards the sky so you assumed he was either looking at the stars or saying something to his teammates.

“It’s him!” you squealed as you grasped onto Mei’s shoulders and while she laughed, she also tried to keep hold of her phone. “I have to go see him-” you were about to run off when Mei grabbed your arm and pulled you back, causing you to cry “Ah!” and stumble back. “You can’t go in now. YOU’LL expose yourself.” you frowned, you finally saw Dabi and you felt a strong urge to run to him but she was right. You couldn’t expose yourself yet, as much as you wanted to.

“W-What do you suggest?” you asked and Mei tapped her chin a moment. “Well, YOU could wait UNTIL CHAOS,” she emphasized the word chaos by throwing her arms up in the air, “unleashes and sneak into the midst of it, that’s the best strategy I CAN think of given the situation.” in addition to that with your costume, it was highly unlikely anyone would recognize you if you had your hood up and maybe Mei had a point, it would be hard to keep track of the number of people around if chaos was erupting.

“Mm …” you frowned, despite your heart pounding softly at the thought of seeing Dabi again. “How long do you think it’ll take for that to happen?” you asked and watched Mei lean back, her eyes glued to the screen. “I’d say right about now, considering Deku just threw the first punch.” you leaned over her shoulder, “WHAT?!” you exclaimed but sure enough there was Deku. That familiar lightning surrounding him and the unmarked vehicle now had a large dent in it. You assumed the villains had scattered everywhere.

You looked to Mei, your lips pressed together in a thin line. She looked back at you, a smile on her face. “Do it,” she said and despite the butterflies in your stomach, you nodded and pulled your hood up before taking off. The hover soles made it easy to increase your speed and it was almost like rolling skating, it took but a few moments to arrive. But as you did you could see smoke billowing from a section of the surrounding forest area. You placed your hand to your chest, your heart was still racing.

Well, it was now or never, you glanced back and forth making sure there were no heroes around as you made your move. You could hear the hover soles kick up dirt as you made your way into the smoky forest, the smoke was thick and you began to cough the deeper you ventured inside. Bringing your wrists up, you released a shot of compressed air. It blew some of the smoke away as you closed in on its source. You heard two voices as you got closer and ducked into some bushes, holding your breath as you peered through the leaves.

You could see Dabi, he was standing by a tree. His palm pressed against it to keep his flames going. Then there was someone in a dark bodysuit who seemed to be having some type of argument with himself, “Hm, strange.” you muttered to yourself before Dabi pointed down the forest path. “Yeah, whatever Twice. Just keep those damn heroes at bay.” you shivered at the sound of his voice, it was as monotone as ever. You watched “Twice” ramble off something before departing and you leaned back, however that proved to be a mistake.

You ended up snapping a twig which caught Dabi’s attention and you watched his head turn to the bushes where you currently were. “Alright, come out,” he said, stepping away from the tree. His eyes were absent of any emotion and you clasped your hands over your mouth, trying to keep silent. This wasn’t exactly the introduction you had thought of. You watched him step forward, raising his arms. “Guess I’ll have to force you out then …” he said, his eyes seeming to shine as his arms were engulfed with his flames.

Oh no. You cried out when they came, the metal beam from your hydraulic bracer came out. Pulling you away and out of the bushes, which were set ablaze seconds later. Leaves flew everywhere and obscured your vision. “Ah!” your eyes widened when you felt the heat of Dabi’s fireball hurling towards you. “Damn!” you hissed and brought your wrist up, releasing that compressed air to deflect it. However, it only weakened the flame and your hydraulic bracer retracted its beam. You felt yourself fall, that fireball grazing your arm and though it hurt, you almost felt happy to feel that burn again.

You landed on the ground, grunting before you stumbled onto your feet again. Dabi scoffed and slowly stepped in front of you, “Well ...if it isn’t the little hero from before.” he almost sounded like he was mocking you and despite the fact that your arm was now bleeding from that fireball, you took a deep breath. He had recognized you? “My name is y/n,” you said with a small hiss, Dabi had to have known your name. Then again, you don’t remember telling him your name before. Okay, maybe this was awkward. Your soulmate should know your name, but that didn’t stop the fact that you two were destined to be together.

“Should I really care about that doll?” he replied before reeling his hand back and sending several flames towards you. “Damn it.” you hissed and dodged them the best you could, using your compressed air devices to redirect them. “You should care! Considering what you did to me last time!” you shouted before crossing your arms as Dabi charged at you, he knocked you off your feet and once more you found yourself trying to escape him. He grabbed your ankle, pulling you back. You felt his palm growing hot and more than likely he was using that as a silent threat to keep you from moving.

You clenched your jaw, your hands curling into the ground which stained your palms with dirt. You could hear fighting off in the distance as well as the small aftershocks of the heroes’ super moves. “You really trying to escape again? Dollface, I thought you would have learned from last time.” the memories flashed in your head before you turned and shot a compressed amount of air into Dabi’s face. He hissed and covered his eyes which now watered, “Fuck.” he groaned and you took your chance.

Leaping up, you grabbed his wrists and pinned him to the ground. Your legs spread and your knees dug into his waist. He seemed unphased as he stared at you, meaningless tears running down his cheeks. You paused a moment, he almost looked human and your heart sank again. But you leaned over him, tightening your grip on his wrists. “Do you know ...how fucking long I was looking for you!?” you exclaimed, ignoring the fact that the voices were growing closer to your location.

Your hood was down, but even so, you didn’t care. Dabi kept quiet, his eyes locked on you. “Do you feel it anymore? Do you feel me!? My pain?” you questioned and watched his head cock to the side. “Why does that matter?” he questioned and you felt your heart sink and your nails dug into his wrists but once again, it didn’t seem to phase him. “Can you feel the pain I feel inside, missing you?” you asked before releasing his wrists and leaned up to press a hand to your chest.

You almost felt like crying, but you refused to. You gasped when Dabi reached up and you more than certain he was going to choke you, but instead, he grabbed your hand and pulled it away from your chest. You looked at him, a little worried about his next move but found yourself surprised when he placed his hand over your heart. You looked down, his hand was so large and yet it laid innocently there, feeling the rhythm of your heart. You then looked back at him as he sat up and sighed. “If you’re talking about that heavy feeling in my chest, yeah y/n I feel it.” your eyes widened and a shiver ran down your spine at the sound of him speaking your name.

“But I can’t bother with it right now,” he growled before you felt a powerful burst of heat, the burning and blood followed as you were thrown back by the force of it. You hit the ground and rolled, your hand now clenching your open wound. “W-Wait Dabi …” you said weakly as you held your hand out to him, he was standing and looking down at you though you couldn’t read his expression. You could hear the heroes closing in, their words audible but you knew you couldn’t escape in your condition.

Still, you looked at Dabi with a pleading glance and he sighed. “I’ll find you this time.” he said before taking off, “Dabi …” you whimpered before lowering your head to the ground, the pain radiating through your chest was unbearable and your hand was covered in blood. I’ll find you this time, your eyelids began to feel heavy. He better keep that promise or you didn’t know what you’d do. Your vision started to fade and your body went limp against the ground as you finally passed out. The heroes approached your unconscious body and once more, you were taken to the hospital.

When you woke up days later, the sound of the cardiac monitor beeping filled your ears. You groaned, feeling your chest give a soft ache. Looking down, you noticed your chest was wrapped up tight with bandages. More than likely you’d have another burn scar from Dabi, you sighed as you sat up in the hospital bed. Your hands rested on your thighs, your thoughts going back to what Dabi had said. Would he find you, was he trying to find you last time? You couldn’t really tell, but once more you found yourself waiting.

“Well, I would say it’s glad to see you awake but the fact is I need to discuss some things with you, y/n.” a shiver ran down your spine as you glanced over to the door, Aizawa was standing there with his arms crossed over his chest. You said nothing, “You took it upon yourself to not only disobey my orders but you bluntly put yourself in danger once again and in addition, you managed to drag your classmate into your nonsense.” you clenched your jaw. “I-It’s not nonsense,” you replied, though it’s not like he’d understand.

He seemed to perk up at your words, but a frown was still plastered on his face. “Frankly, I don’t care what it is. I’m not trying to be the bad guy, y/n but you did disobey me and go against the orders I put in place-” you snapped, “The orders you gave me when I was injured! The orders you gave me because you thought I was the reason for the failure of the last mission!” despite your chest aching, you were ready to throw down with your teacher. He sighed and shook his head. “I did not call you a failure y/n but even so that’s not what I’m here to discuss,” he said firmly, his eyes narrowing on you.

“I have spoken to Principal Nezu and given the circumstances though he did mention he was impressed by the fact you trailed behind the hero students without being caught. I am until further notice, putting you on suspension from U.A.” you felt your heart shatter and your fingers curled into the blanket that draped over your legs, your face twisted with anger. “What do you mean suspension you can’t do that-” before you could finish you heard a scream and the sound of panicked running came.

You weren’t sure what was happening, but slowly you turned to look out the window. Seeing the trees give off smoke and a blue flame hidden in between them. The world around you slowed as you pulled the blanket back and slowly rose to your feet, the heart monitor suction pads peeling off as you made your way to the window. You looked at the burning trees as though you were hypnotized, “Dabi …” you whispered before your thoughts were shattered by Aizawa’s yelling. “Y/n! Y/n!” you gasped and looked at him as he pulled down his signature goggles.

“Stay here, under no circumstances are you leaving this room and you better listen this time,” Aizawa growled the last words before shutting the door behind him, more than likely going to address the situation. You stood there a moment, a frown on your face before you turned back to the window, the smoke was growing thicker and spreading to the various trees that were near the hospital. All in a line, everything was slowly engulfing into blue flame. and for some reason, you felt hope. Dabi was coming.

#dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi imagine

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