#as you might already be able to tell given the insane amount of detail for those ones esp the fwb one oops

[kamaluhkhan]

read below the cut if you wanna know more about each option ;))

HER CANINE TEETH IN THE SIDE OF MY NECK (werewolf!vi x vampire slayer!reader)

slightly canon-divergent....basically set during pit fighter!vi arc except in this world we've got vampires! and werewolves!!!! (can you tell i've been rewatching buffy the vampire slayer and first kill???)

so reader is also a pit fighter -- they literally meet for the first time when they're competing underground. the next morning vi wakes up with a wicked hangover in some stranger's apartment and that stranger is you! and your dog! vi doesn't realize this yet but you saved her drunk ass from a vampire anyways, you invite vi to train with you and some other girls, which she denies at first but vi's eventually like,, tired of the whole lone wolf thing but still very scared to let people in after what happened with caitlyn,, so she joins somewhat reluctantly and you become friends ("whoever wins the most fights that night picks up the tab for the bar.") and vi maybe has a crush on you but she tries very hard to keep her identity a secret.....while you're also trying to keep the whole vampire slayer thing under wraps....perhaps unsuccessfully, but i don't want to spoil it hehe. i will however share this moodboard thing that i spent a bunch of time at work making

IS IT CASUAL NOW? (college fwb!vi x reader)

SO this is probably my most self-indulgent fic oops - it's kinda inspired by leighton's arc in sex lives of college girls season 1! basically, vi's on the varsity soccer team and after a series of unfortunate events (anger issues, bad breakup) is put on academic probation and has to volunteer at the women's centre or else she'd get kicked off of the team. she goes for her first shift and she's like...that president looks awfully familiar?? and reader's like, yeah, i work at that bar you keep starting fights in....so off to a great start. reader and vi don't really get along at first bc obviously vi doesn't wanna be there and reader is just not having it so there's TENSION. but then vi's like ,, oh this actually isn't so bad??? these ppl are kinda cool??? and maybe wait is reader kinda hot??? and reader's like....maybe this angry butch lesbian has a soft heart (vi is the definition of looks like she could kill you and she COULD but is also a huge cinnamon roll). eventually turns into a friends with benefits situation. (yeah, we bang on the couch.....yeah, she's knee deep in the passenger seat eating me out vibes). but then there are like moments where it's like....are we dating? like, reader will run into vi at the library where she's checking out feminist literature and reader's like...since when are you into this stuff? turns out vi is taking a gender studies elective so she can impress reader; vi starts showering at reader's place after practice bc she just really loves smelling like reader's shampoo, and reader keeps her fridge stocked with those energy drinks vi is obsessed with; reader wears vi's jersey to one of her games, meets her family, and they insist that reader join them for dinner to celebrate (i fucked you in the bathroom when we went to dinner!!! your parents at the table, you wonder why i'm bitter!!!); one night vi is worried when reader doesn't show up for her shift at work so checks in on reader and turns out she's having really bad period cramps and is like super stressed so vi stays in bed with her watching movies until she falls asleep and then cleans up her apartment (vi is such an acts of service person!!!); they both hate doing laundry so they do it together on a sunday morning after spending all of saturday night fucking. something about being happy doing laundry and taxes with someone (iykyk). spoiler alert, it'll end with the centre in dire need of funding so reader's scrambling to save it and one day reader sees vi talking to her ex and gets super jealous but then vi's like ,, babe ,, i was trying to convince caitlyn to get her family to donate and it WORKED !!! so ,, yeah ,, reader is convinced vi's the woman she'll one day make her wife (and she's more than happy to get down on her knees for her oop). the centre is saved and reader and vi confess their feelings for each other and live happily ever after <3

GLORY AND GORE (the hunger games au)

basically sapphic katniss x peeta. vi and reader are picked for the 74th annual hunger games ,, they do the whole fake relationship for the camera thing that eventually turns into them needing each other to survive in the arena...and then after they're like oh shit not only can i not survive without you, i don't wanna survive without you.

LIKE SOME MISPLACED JOAN OF ARC (spiderverse au)

vi is spider-gwen spider-woman! she's in college, plays drums in a band, has an internship at some lab and spends a lot of her time saving the city but there's the lingering guilt that she couldn't save you (canon event: losing their first love). one day she's fighting some villian and....a portal opens? and she's transported into another universe?? the only place she knows of for sure is her apartment and when she knocks on the door, her heart almost stops -- because you're the one who opens it. turns out in this universe, you're spider-woman, dealing with some demons of your own (two canon events rolled into one: losing their first love and not being able to save the life of a police captain....and your vi was an enforcer). basically you have to work together to get vi back home and maybe fall for each other along the way even though you both really really don't wanna go through losing the other and it seems like it's inevitable. but, fuck the universe, right?

[sarahjtv]

BNHA Chapter 320 Short Spoiler Analysis: The Power of Friendship

The battle between Deku Vs. Class A has begun!  Well, it’s technically a battle, but more so a “Catch-A-Deku” situation.  Everyone is trying to use their cool Super Moves and words of friendship to try to convince Deku to come back home.  They’re all reminding him all of times he helped them, so they’re trying to return the favor.  So far, I think half the class was featured here including Shoto who I thought would be saved til the end.  Maybe he will be featured again since he’s one of Deku’s closest friends.  What’s interesting is that the trio that was shown at the end of last week’s chapter, Bakugo, Ochako, and Iida, didn’t have their heart-to-hearts with Deku this week, so I bet you they’re being saved for the end.  Anyway, my left hand is still on the mend, so I’ll keep this one short this week.  I hope it heals soon.

The 2nd Color page is shown this week!  It’s of Froppy this time around!  I think it’s been a while since we’ve seen Froppy featured in a color page, so this is cool to see.  She looks really good here too.  Horikoshi’s art rarely disappoints.  Next week is going to be the 7th BNHA Anniversary color page and the 7th Popularity Poll announcement, so I’m excited for that.  Apparently we’re going to get a lot of BNHA things next week including things for the WHM movie, Team-Up Missions, and the WHM one-shot manga.

I love how at the beginning, Bakugo breaks the 4th wall here by commenting on how Deku’s “art style” underwent a complete change.  It’s both a good taunt on Bakugo’s part and some acknowledgment from Horikoshi-sensei on the change of Deku’s design in general since this arc began.

So, Bakugo did tell the rest of 1-A about Deku’s other Quirks which is good.  I thought that would be the case after remembering that Bakugo read All Might’s OFA archive book.  Bakugo would still look over the other Holder’s Quirks, so he would have knowledge on the 4th-6ths Holders.  Problem is that none of them know of the 2nd and 3rd’s Quirks, so dealing with Fa-Jin will be troublesome.  None of us know what the 2nd’s Quirk is yet though, but I have a feeling we’ll see it in this battle.

Quite a few new Super Moves debut in this chapter!  

Katsuki Bakugo: Shockwave Landmine: Looks like Bakugo creates a blast on the ground so that the blast blows away anything around it like Deku’s Smokescreen.  It’s a big blast too, so Bakugo’s got a lot of range with this thing.

Kiyoka Jiro: Heartbeat Wall: It’s hard to tell, but I think it’s a move where Jiro uses her sound waves to block or stop whatever comes her way.  It could be really effective to stop anyone who can hear I’m sure.

Fumikage Tokoyami: Ragnorok: “Womb”: It’s a like a capturing move that traps anyone within Dark Shadow.  It kind of looks like one of the moves Tokoyami uses in The Strongest Hero Game.  Unless someone has a light Quirk, I can see this move being very effective in capturing villains.

Really, everyone is doing their best to remind Deku of all the good times they had with them. They’re using the power of feels and friendship to bring their sacrificial idiot home.  I like to believe it’s working given how Deku is finally shown crying tears of sadness as he pushes his friends away.  God, please let this kid have a good cry.  How they’ll be able to catch Deku though I still have no idea.

Deku is able to overpower pretty much everyone this chapter.  Even Tokoyami, who is considered one of the strongest in the class, and Momo who created this insanely complex machine to try to put Deku to sleep (how the hell did she make that anyway???).  At the end he’s captured by Shoto’s Heaven-Piercing Ice Wall (which he’s standing on btw and looks so damn pretty 💙☺️), but I doubt that will last.  Deku’s probably going to break right through the ice next chapter.

Speaking of Shoto, since I’m such a simp for him 😔, he has the least amount of dialogue out of everyone having heart-to-hearts with Deku.  But what he says is significant: he basically asks Deku if he can still truly cry and for Deku to share the responsibility with his friends.  I think this is calling back to when Shoto reassured Deku that heroes are allowed to cry back in the Overhaul arc and when Deku meddled with Shoto’s life to save him.  Which is essentially the philosophy everyone’s running on.  Meddling in Deku’s mission is the only way to save him now.

Side note, but I love that Kaminari is the one to tell Deku to take a freaking bath 😂!  Like, we’ve all been telling Deku that, but it’s good to know that Horikoshi and his characters are thinking the same thing.  Now someone has to tell Deku to eat a good meal and take a long nap.  

Also, small detail, but Sato comes in at one point and reminds Deku that they won’t be able to make candied apples for Eri anymore if Deku doesn’t come back.  Deku tells Sato that Eri will be fine without him 😭.  No, Deku, you dumbass!  Eri needs her big bro in her life!  I can’t imagine how sad she must be if she already knows about Deku’s disappearance 😭❤️

I’m also glad to see pretty much every student get some kind of spotlight especially the ones who are more minor characters than the others.  Koda actually gets a mini-monoluge this chapter.  Also, Froppy’s got a lot of focus at the end along with the color page this chapter.  Which, I’m glad to see.  It’s been a long time since Tsuyu got some spotlight.  Really, all the girls need more spotlight.  I assume everyone else will get their shine the next few chapters.  

It’s small and I’m still trying to find the meaning of it, but there’s one panel after Deku escapes from Tokoyami showing him flying through the air in the background and you can see the All Might statue at the forefront.  I want to say this symbolizes Deku being All Might’s successor or something, but I’m not sure.  This one just stood out to me for some reason.  

But yeah, like I said, the last half of the class will probably be featured next chapter.  I think Bakugo will be the last person to talk to Deku since he’s the most important one here.  Remember: Bakugo knows Deku better than anyone.  He will be the turning point I’m positive.  Iida and Ochako will definitely have an impact on Deku, but Bakugo will truly HIT DIFFERENT!  I won’t be surprised if that last conversation leads up to Deku Vs. Kacchan Part 3.  I wouldn’t be mad if that will happen tbh.  Part 2 was about understanding Bakugo and letting his feelings out.  Part 3 could be Deku’s turn.  And of course you gotta have a trilogy to cap it off.  I’m really excited to see what happens next!

Me seeing all my adopted children come together to save my green broccoli boy 💚🥦:

[robininthelabyrinth]

part 3 of Escape Your Destiny (Star Wars Wangxian AU) - on ao3 or tumblr part 1, part 2

-

He had been right to reject seclusion, Lan Wangji thought grimly. The sweet siren call of calm contemplation had nearly seduced him, the Dark Side seeking to eat away at him through other means now that anger and hatred had not done the work – he would have meditated himself into a stupor, becoming little more than a vacuum within the Force, a black hole of deathly intent.

More than that, though, he would have missed – this.

This disaster.

Wei Wuxian’s lips were pale from blood loss and hypothermia. Two of his limbs were at odd angles, probably broken, and Lan Wangji feared that there were more like them beneath the body that was bruised like a tender peach – he had been shielding as many people as he could, Lan Wangji knew, because he knew his Wei Ying too well to think that he might have done anything else.

Lan Wangji still didn’t know all the details, what exactly had been the disaster or why Wei Wuxian’s starfighter had crashed when he knew (with painful recollection) exactly how good a pilot Wei Wuxian was, but it hadn’t really mattered. Xue Yang had rushed into his chamber shouting excitedly - not exactly a rare event - saying something about an alarm and a disaster and a crash and can I have one of these gadgets? possibly two, maybe, I’m thinking two but haven’t really committed yet, it’s a big decision you know, and Lan Wangji’s blood had run cold when he realized what alarm he was referencing.

(A proper Jedi would never have tagged the object of his affections like an endangered bird or a criminal, injecting the tracking chip so deep into bone and muscle that standard scans wouldn’t pick it up and even in-depth scans might register it as a naturally occurring aberration. A proper Jedi would think of such intimate surveillance as cruelty, dehumanization, the caging of a free bird –

A proper Jedi wouldn’t have known what happened.

A proper Jedi wouldn’t have been able to rush over at once, wouldn’t have been in time to retrieve the body from the wreckage, finding it still warm and breathing but swiftly fading into the Force.

A proper Jedi would have been worthless.)

“That looks pretty bad, Master,” Xue Yang said, the comm crackling in his ear, and for once his tone was almost solemn. Perhaps the lessons on empathy were working, following the introduction of the rancor Xue Yang had named Chengmei with an expression so pained and vicious that Lan Wangji had refrained from asking. Perhaps it was that he’d grown so obsessed with his pair of bounty hunters and their foundling assistant, a little not-blind Bothan girl who liked to mouth off at him. Or perhaps it was just something as simple as knowing that if Wei Wuxian were lost, Lan Wangji would have no reason to –

No reason to anything at all.

“It is within the limits of what a bacta tank can heal,” Lan Wangji said, because it was, it would be, as long as he got him there in time. 

Time that was swiftly running out.

Later, when Wei Wuxian was safe, Lan Wangji would return to that obscure little space station that had nearly caused his beloved’s death and he would find out what had happened properly. He would find out, and he would slaughter every one of them that caused it, torment them for days if he needed to in order to know who to blame – it didn’t matter if their contribution were accidental or deliberate, major or slight. He would offer up a sacrifice of their suffering to the Dark Side, as solemn as lighting a stick of incense at a temple –

When Wei Wuxian was safe.

Because he would be. He had to be.

Lan Wangji’s Wei Ying would not die so easily.

“Uh, Master? We don’t have a bacta tank.” Xue Yang was silent for a long moment. “I don’t know that many people around here that do. This is Outer Rim, remember? Not even the Hutts have one.”

“There is one in an outpost in the Quiberon sector,” Lan Wangji said. His attention was split between piloting their stolen ship as fast as he could and monitoring Wei Wuxian’s vital signs. He had transferred a certain amount of energy into him already, but the Dark Side was poisonous in overly large quantities, especially if one was not accustomed to it; a pure Jedi like Wei Wuxian couldn’t tolerate it, and Lan Wangji would not risk making him worse. “Inat Prime system. I’ve entered the coordinates. Set us up for a jump to lightspeed.”

“Inat Prime,” Xue Yang repeated, instead of doing as he was told. “Isn’t that – near Rothana?”

Lan Wangji said nothing.

“Rothana’s a manufacturing planet. Heavy engineering – warships. It used to belong to a subsidy of the Jin Engineering Corps, maybe still does, I don’t know, but either way manufacturing planets like that are where those sleemos keep their precious IP. And that means it’s going to be guarded and booby-trapped up your chubba. Who in their right mind would set up an outpost anywhere near there?”

Xue Yang was descending into Huttese slang again, Lan Wangji noted to himself, keeping his calm only by sheer force of willpower even as the Dark Side screamed in his mind that now was the time for rage and pain and blood. Given his hatred of the entire species, Xue Yang only did that when he was especially anxious and didn’t want to admit it.

Later, when he didn’t have more pressing things on his mind, Lan Wangji would have to inquire of his apprentice – which he had previously believed was as transparent to him as a sheet of transparisteel – how he had learned about things like top-secret Jin Engineering manufacturing planets and IP and such things like that.

Later. Right now, he didn’t care.

“Prepare for jump,” he said again, the threat in his voice clear, and this time Xue Yang scrambled to obey, mumbling curses as he went. This was more typical of Xue Yang, but in this case it signified that he was concentrating, and that was all Lan Wangji cared about.

The rest of the trip passed as if in a daze, time counted in the beats of Wei Wuxian’s heart. Still strong, because Wei Wuxian was strong – this wouldn’t be the end of him. It wouldn’t.

Lan Wangji would make sure of that.

“We’re here,” Xue Yang said, breaking through Lan Wangji’s extreme focus on the rise and fall of Wei Wuxian’s chest. “I’m going to guess that our destination is the third planet? If you can call those other ones planets, they’re barely more than asteroids…”

Lan Wangji hummed, affirming.

“So, you going to tell me what this place is? Some super-secret Sith hideout?”

“No.”

“Smuggler’s base? Bounty hunter lair? Mandalorian terrorist cell? Clone factory?”

Lan Wangji rolled his eyes. Xue Yang had been reading too many historical action comics again.

“No, but seriously, Master! I deserve to know what we’re getting into, don’t I? What is this place?”

Lan Wangji was tempted to say you deserve nothing but what I give you, you filthy-tongue swamp-rat, but that was the Dark Side speaking, not him, and not only because the Gusu Lan Jedi order in which he had been raised did not permit cursing. It was simply anathema to him - he was Sith, but not a Lord, and he had encouraged this self-same insolence because it was better than having Xue Yang cringe before him like a kicked dog.

No matter how irritating it might be at times like this.

“It’s Jedi,” he said shortly, and to his amusement that actually shut Xue Yang up for a solid minute.

“I’m sorry, Master, I think I temporarily went insane due to Dark Force poisoning,” Xue Yang finally said. “But did you say that we’re planning on popping over and ‘borrowing’ the bacta tank of a bunch of Jedi?”

“Mm.”

“Master. Master. Please tell me you remember that we’re Sith, right? Sort of the sworn enemy of the Jedi? Arrest-on-sight orders? Any of this ringing any bells here? No? In short, have you lost your mind?”

Lan Wangji took Wei Wuxian’s pulse again. It was getting increasingly thready; he frowned.

“Take us in,” he ordered, and Xue Yang made a whining sound not unlike an especially agitated cat, but he obeyed, finding the planetary base and flashing them with a urgent medical attention required signal and transmitting the passcode Lan Wangji recited to him.

The base opened its doors in silent invitation.

Xue Yang took them in, apparently resigned to his fate and determined to pointedly suffer and judge him without saying a word.

This determination cracked the second they passed through the gates.

“Master!” he shrieked. “Master, Master! That’s the Qinghe Nie emblem!”

“It is,” Lan Wangji agreed. Foreseeing Xue Yang’s next question, he added, “It is here because this is an outpost of the Qinghe Nie Jedi order.”

Xue Yang sounded a bit like a rusty door when he hyperventilated, and even more so when he started laughing hysterically. How had he ever survived being a Sith before, if this was how he reacted to stress?

“Great, right, yes,” he said, nearly howling. “Sure, why not? Let’s go knock on the door of some Jedi and ask them for a bacta tank like we’re borrowing a cup of sugar, sure, okay, we can do that. Jedi are chumps, they’re all about mercy and sympathy and bantha fodder like that; we can con ‘em - it’ll be tricky, but it can be done when you’re in a pinch. I’m fine with that, up for it, it’s cool, all cool. You know who we can’t con? Qinghe Nie, that’s who. ‘Suppress evil no matter the cost’ Qinghe karking Nie.”

Lan Wangji ignored him, scooping Wei Wuxian into his arms and heading out into the saber hall.

Three grim-faced Jedi dressed in the immediately identifiable colors of the Qinghe Nie were waiting there, hands on their lightsabers and droids lingering in the corridors, but they did not attack. Instead, they led Lan Wangji, a nervous Xue Yang dogging his heels, to the medical bay, never uttering a single word.

The medical droids took Wei Wuxian from his arms – Lan Wangji forced himself to recall the Lan sect mantras on restraint and allowed them to do so without ripping out their wires for daring to touch him – but it wasn’t until Wei Wuxian was firmly encased in the bacta tank, the oxygen-rich liquid flowing into his lungs to heal him, the colors on all the screens all showing positive signs, that he was finally able to release the breath it felt that he’d been holding since he first saw the broken starfighter that encased Wei Wuxian’s broken body.

This was fine.

“Wangji,” a low voice said from behind him, and Lan Wangji’s back stiffened.

This was not fine.

The Qinghe Nie were a strange order of Jedi – almost heretical, really, by any traditional measure. The orthodox Jedi order, for the most part, valued calm and serenity and selflessness, prioritizing the logic of the mind over the yearning of the heart, preaching detachment from worldly concerns and attachments…

Qinghe Nie, in contrast, valued righteousness, and cultivated rage.

Halfway to Sith, Lan Wangji’s uncle had once remarked after a glass of something stronger than tea. He’d regretted it later, of course, and tried to walk it back, smooth over his uncharacteristic rudeness, but Lan Wangji still remembered.

The adherents of Qinghe Nie were of the view that for every virtue there was a fault – that the Jedi’s emotional remove would at times render them passive, that self-control could too quickly shade into indifference. They argued that it was the duty of the virtuous to be enraged by evil, intolerant of it, and that only through that anger would they be motivated to act to eradicate it.

Their philosophy often led to their deaths, whether through reckless action or through the corruption of rage into madness, but even their harshest critics had to concede that they were devastatingly effective. 

Lan Wangji had always thought that there was something heartbreakingly sincere about all the Jedi that took the harsh vows of Qinghe Nie, each one willingly trading away long lives for the sake of righteousness, for the ability to make a change in the world, each one unable to tolerate life if it meant they weren’t striving to make things better. Perhaps they did not match the Jiang for creativity or the Lan for elegance, perhaps their techniques were more brutish and less refined, their diplomacy little short of appalling, but no other Jedi order could match them for sheer power.

Very few people wanted to be between a Qinghe Nie Jedi and their target, and still less if they had allowed themselves to succumb to the beserker rage that sometimes took them on the battlefield – indeed, in a crisis that called for force of arms, most people who knew what they were about would rather have a single Qinghe Nie on their side than an entire battalion of war-droids from the Jin or Wen engineering corps.

Still, even that efficiency might not have been enough to convince the ancient sticklers of the Jedi Council to condone such a Sith-like view of the Force, but the Qinghe Nie also had an unsurpassed connection to the kyber crystals that were essential to the creation of lightsabers – the mines under their hands were far more numerous and more fruitful than any other order, and for all that they seemed to have dubious connections to the lightsabers they crafted and wielded, with their highly unusual one-sided edge, they were always open-handed and willing to let other Jedi pick freely from their stores. 

With the ancestral weapon of the entire Jedi order at stake, even the Jedi Council unwillingly bowed its head to reality and compromised.

Not very happily. Especially since the fierce young head of the Qinghe Nie order – the great Chifeng-zun, Nie Mingjue – had been constantly causing trouble for them ever since he had been admitted to their deliberations.

More relevantly, though, was that Nie Mingjue was also a good friend of Lan Xichen, Lan Wangji’s elder brother by blood, and it had been the gift of his token, his passcode, never revoked, that they had used to enter through the gates.

(Look what happened to the Twin Jades you prized so much, my old clansmen, Uncle, Father, Grandfather. Look at me now. Begging for scraps from a Nie -)

Lan Wangji turned and saluted, bowing deeply and ignoring Xue Yang, who had progressed so far into hysterical laughter that he was now hiccupping.

Nie Mingjue caught his hands and raised him up, just the way he always had, and that grim face surveyed Lan Wangji from top to bottom, those searing eyes seeming to pierce into the depths of his corrupted soul.

“You look well,” he said, which surprised even Lan Wangji, who had thought himself beyond surprises. “That’s good.”

“What the fuck,” Xue Yang muttered. “What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck – you guys are with me here, right? This is kriffing insane…”

The Qinghe Nie Jedi ignored him.

“Chifeng-zun,” Lan Wangji said politely, and ignored the man’s raised eyebrow. He was not about to fall back into calling him da-ge the way he’d done back when he was in the Jedi crèche, no matter how tempting – everyone had called Nie Mingjue da-ge back then, too young to be afraid of his fierce and barely leashed energy. “Thank you for lending us temporary use of your base.”

There wasn’t really a polite way to say I wasn’t expecting to run into you here under the circumstances, but from the way Nie Mingjue snorted, Lan Wangji suspected he’d understood regardless.

“Checking up on the Jin,” he said, an explanation that Lan Wangji didn’t deserve to hear. “Treasonous svapers, the lot of them. Is this Wei Wuixan?”

Lan Wangji nodded. His heart was unexpectedly in his throat as Nie Mingjue studied the other Jedi through the glass of the bacta tank, though he wasn’t sure why.

He was Sith now, after all. Why would he care what Nie Mingjue thought?

It would have been easier if Nie Mingjue had been angry at him, full of rage the way he so often was. Easier if he’d turned his tongue as sharp as any lightsaber to scolding him, or turned his face away in coldness. Nie Mingjue notoriously despised the Sith, had probably meant to call the Jin Sithspawn instead of svapers earlier, had probably switched the word only in deference to Lan Wangji’s current occupation – which meant he knew, because of course he knew, there was no way Lan Xichen hadn’t told him even if his position on the Council hadn’t already entitled him to all such secrets.

He knew, and he still persisted in acting like – like –  

“Cute enough,” Nie Mingjue commented, and Lan Wangji covered his suddenly burning face with both hands. “You have good taste.”

“Please stop,” Lan Wangji mumbled, mortified beyond all belief. Xue Yang was looking back and between the two of them with his jaw gaping wider than a Gungan’s.

Nie Mingjue snorted, amused. “I carried you around on my shoulders when you were knee high, Wangji. I think I’m entitled to torment you a bit about your crush.”

Xue Yang looked like he was going to forsake the ways of the Sith, convert to Qinghe Nie, and start logging prayers at the temple of Nie Mingjue, and Lan Wangji couldn’t even blame him.

“Don’t you have anything to say about –” Lan Wangji shut his mouth with a snap. 

He didn’t actually want to hear Nie Mingjue exorcising him for his choices, no matter how little he regretted them.

Nie Mingjue was silent for a moment, contemplative. “No.”

Lan Wangji blinked, not understanding.

“I don’t have anything to say,” Nie Mingjue clarified with a shrug. “I can’t say I entirely understand why you chose what you did, but we all choose our own paths in the Force, Wangji. I have faith that even though your path leads you to the Dark Side now, it will eventually lead you back to us once more. If you keep your sense of righteousness about you and continue to stand up for what you believe is right as you always have – and avoid engaging in the wholesale slaughter of innocents the way so many Sith do – I will never be disappointed in you.”

…maybe Lan Wangji would allow the people in that spaceport to live.

But only because it would hurt Wei Wuxian to know that he had sacrificed so much for nothing, of course. It was pure selfishness, nothing more. 

(The Dark Side hissed in his head, bitter-angry-vicious-hate-hate-hate, but Lan Wangji hadn’t been Hanguang-jun for nothing. He controlled himself, allowing for only the influences he chose to accept – it was his independence that had led him to the Dark Side, and his independence, he believed, that would allow him to forge his own path, as Nie Mingjue had said, even inside the ways of the Sith. His uncle would say that such thoughts were pure arrogance, pride before the fall, but, well. He’d already Fallen, hadn’t he?)

“Would you like to stay with him until his vital signs have recovered?” Nie Mingjue asked, and Lan Wangji nodded, grateful despite himself.

Grateful, too, that Nie Mingjue did not speak of Lan Wangji reconciling with the rest of his old order.

“I will not stay longer,” he added. “I know it must be a burden to you, opening your doors to one such as me –”

“Ridiculous,” Nie Mingjue scoffed. “This is a secret base, Wangji. If you don’t say anything about it, who’ll know? And before you ask, I’m going to tell Wei Wuxian that you saved his life whether you’re here for him waking up or not, so take that into account when selecting your leave time. And I’ll exaggerate.”

He would, too, Lan Wangji thought fondly. Nie Mingjue had always been big brother to all the Jedi younglings, no matter how grown up they eventually got, and he never let them forget it.

“I’ll consider it,” he allowed, and settled into a meditation pose at the side of the room.

“As for you,” Nie Mingjue said to Xue Yang, who straightened up so quickly that he might as well have attached a ruler to his spine. “I hear that you’re the one that’s been attacking Hutt palaces?”

Xue Yang glanced at Lan Wangji, who sighed. 

“You shouldn’t encourage him, da-ge,” he murmured. “He gets into enough trouble as it is.”

“Comradery does more to defeat evil than any amount of solitary philosophizing,” Nie Mingjue proclaimed, certain as ever in his own righteousness. It would be unbearably irritating if it was anyone less sincerely bullheaded about it, earnest but full of flaws. “Anyway, it’d be good for some of our padawans to see a Sith in action without needing to go up against one right off the bat. You in?”

“…in? I don’t – there aren’t any Hutt palaces around here..?”

“They take their travelling palaces on the Quiberon Line,” one of the Qinghe Nie Jedi said, and Xue Yang’s eyes lit up at the promise of what he undoubtedly thought was an opportunity for wholesale slaughter. It wouldn’t be, of course, not when he was going to be fighting alongside the strict Qinghe Nie, but it would keep him busy for the time it took Wei Wuxian to stabilize and recover.

Maybe Lan Wangji would even stay long enough to speak with his Wei Ying before retreating to be his silent and unwanted protector again.

Maybe.

[bluerosesburnblue]

I hope you don't mind this ask, but... Any theories / speculations about the most recent story update for KHUX?

Oh, I don’t mind at all! I’m glad you asked, actually, because I’ve had some thoughts, though not many new theories of my own, unfortunately. That being said, I can definitely go over how some of my old theories and some of the fandom’s hold up and my thoughts on a few of the new theories I’ve seen floating around

One thing that I’m consistently proud of is how my old guesses about Darkness’s true nature just keep ending up almost right barring some slight details. I made the claim back when Re:Mind first came out that Darkness could be a hive mind of entities that plant bits of themselves in others, and then refined that back in July of 2020 by likening it to a parasite that worms its way into people’s hearts and incorporates itself into them to control them. This past update confirmed that the Darkness we’re fighting is one part of the hive mind that wormed its way into Ven to force him to act out, and that by doing so it detached itself from that hive mind and became incorporated into Ven’s being (which Ven can then shape). So I gotta say I’m pretty pleased about that part

All that’s left to be seen from the July post is if Darkness has a connection to Verum Rex/Quadratum, but I doubt that that will be touched on by the KHUx finale. Though I will say that it’s pretty interesting that the Master of Masters tells Darkness about “a world [he] can’t even conceive,” which seems like it could easily be referring to Quadratum, which also means that Darkness knows about it

That’s pretty much all I have to say on the Ventus/Darkness/Vanitas connection, but there’s still more to cover in this update

One thing that I’ve been trying to figure out is who the cloaked figure right at the start of the update is, Luxu or the MoM. Measuring the sizes and my old guess based on the KH3 Secret Reports both say Luxu, but this brings into question “when,” exactly, the True Dandelion scene takes place as it doesn’t have the dark haze around the edges that they give flashbacks, but is clearly the real-world set of pods as they’re not destroyed AND it’s missing the pod that Maleficent already used. The True Dandelion scene has a lot to unpack, but this scene at the start does make me wonder if Luxu and/or the Master have a way in and out of the datascape that doesn’t involve the pods, otherwise the numbers don’t add up

Also related to the post of mine I just linked is the idea that the Black Box is the datascape. I believe that this might still hold true. It’s interesting to note that they show the scene from Back Cover where Luxu is given the box in the first place just prior to the reveal that using the lifeboats to escape starts the process to seal it off and have the real Daybreak Town fall to darkness, and the Master’s “hint” to Luxu involves this very process. Why would Luxu be forbidden to open the box? Quite possibly because it contains the infected datascape meant to seal off the vast majority of the Darkness hive mind. And several Dandelions. It is both the “hope” mentioned in KH3 through those Dandelions, as well as a trap to keep Darkness out of being able to interfere for quite a long time

Now, the questions that I’m sure are on everyone’s minds are “who is the True Dandelion,” and “who are the ones who use the lifeboats?” Let’s start with the True Dandelion, as there’s far less moving pieces involved in that one

I won’t take credit for coming up with any of these options, I’m just going to discuss the logistics of them. So the candidates for the True Dandelion in, what is in my opinion, the least likely option to the most likely option, are:

Kairi: I’ve seen this one floating around and... honestly don’t believe it at all due to the sheer amount of logical contortions that you have to do to make it work. To wit:

Where the hell would she even come from if it was Kairi? As can be clearly seen with Ven, is stated to be true with Subject X, and is implied to be true of Lauriam/Elrena, those who travel to the future using the pods will regenerate their bodies at the age they were when they used the pods. Which would make Kairi at the oldest a four-year-old. Four years prior to KHUx was when Brain was told that he was a Union Leader. So she either would have been just born immediately prior to the war and was just... stolen or something? And we never saw? Or just after the war, where she would probably have to be the child of a Dandelion that got teen pregnant because they’re supposed to be both kids and the only survivors? Or Luxu and Ava’s kid somehow? Like, what? The timeline is just insane with that

If she was born before the war... you would assume that the True Dandelion would be, you know, a Dandelion. Which would mean that Ava handed a Keyblade to and recruited a literal toddler. This would also retcon Aqua being the one to accidentally pass the ability to wield a Keyblade down to Kairi and I refuse to make theories predicated on “the author will retcon this.” You just open up a huge can of worms doing that

The body wrapped in white looked a hell of a lot bigger than a four-year-old to me

I am sick to death of “this character was secretly from the Age of Fairytales~” being employed by the narrative. It’s happened at least three times already (four if you count Luxu). Enough already

Ventus: Ven has some hints, though some notable contradictions to it being him

On the one had, the sheet that the True Dandelion is wrapped in is extremely similar to the one that Xehanort wrapped him in when planning to leave him on Destiny Islands in BBS and there’s a possibility that Xehanort may have found him in that very sheet if he regenerated wearing it

On the other hand: Ventus might not have even been a Dandelion in the first place (he definitely wasn’t a Union Leader, but I don’t know if it was ever said whether he was selected as a regular Dandelion or not), and there’s the timing of the scene that I mentioned above. It’s definitely after Maleficent used her lifeboat but before anyone else used theirs (when you would expect Ven to remain with his friends) and, since the scene doesn’t have the flashback effect, it’s implied to be happening concurrently with everything else, so Ven should still be fighting Darkness in the datascape while it’s happening and eliminating him from being this particular person

Strelitzia: Oh, boy, have we got some nice old hints to Strelitzia, but still a few logical contortions, just like Ven

The white sheet is coming back up again. Namely, the fact that we still have an unexplained scene where Strelitzia appears to Lauriam in a dream wrapped in a white cloak, though it’s of a different style than the one that the True Dandelion is in. That scene also featured flower petals being blown into the wind, much like a dandelion seed (though, notably, the petals that are blown aren’t Dandelion seeds)

The question is, yet again, one of timing. How would Luxu get her body? While she was only introduced in KHUx, her scenes are all flashbacks to before the war, so we know that she was struck down in the real world, not the datascape. We see her body dissolve into light and her heart be released. Now, technically you only need a heart to time travel (actually, a heart is the only thing that can time travel), but Luxu is clearly seen putting a body into the machine. A machine that only allows for time travel because it destroys the body. If he had her heart, he wouldn’t need to use the lifeboat because she’s already in a state to time-travel on her own and this eliminates the possibility of him putting her Nobody into the machine, because without a heart it would just evaporate her body leaving... absolutely no heart to go to the future with

Now, Luxu theoretically could have grabbed her heart. We know that he was hanging around Daybreak Town at the time while observing thanks to his fight with Ava, but Strelitzia is struck down just after the fight with Ava starts so it’s very likely that Luxu was too preoccupied to retrieve her heart before it was gone. Speaking of Luxu’s fight with Ava...

Ava is my current top pick for the True Dandelion candidate due to the sheer number of questions it answers and how few it raises

Ever since KH3 came out, the question of “where the heck is Ava?” has been buzzing around as a major mystery. Her last chronological point of appearance is the same as the other Foretellers: the Keyblade War itself, where she’s shown leading her Union to battle. Notably, she seems resigned to her part in this, and this is the first and only time we see her after her battle with Luxu where he reveals to her the Master’s true plans. Melody of Memory seems to imply that the other Foretellers managed to skip to the future by going to another world, Quadratum (or at least this is the most likely explanation as there’s not enough pods to send all four of the other Foretellers AND the characters that we know end up in the future to their destination). However, Ava isn’t with them and Luxu knows what happened to her

It would be easy to write this off as them trying to drop Ava from the narrative or her not being important, but her chess piece is included in the “Eraqus and Xehanort foreshadow the next saga” chess game on the far right of the board and Nomura confirms that they represent the Master’s six apprentices, i.e. the five Foretellers + Luxu. So, Ava is necessary in the upcoming saga and yet, she didn’t get to the future the same way as any of the Master’s other apprentices leaving her open to get there via a lifeboat

Ava is the very founder of the Dandelions, who all of the others look up to and defer to and was spoken of heavily in the scene just prior to the True Dandelion reveal. That’s grounds for being called the True Dandelion if I’ve ever seen one

Luxu would very easily be able to ensure that Ava would be able to make it to the future. Just like with the Master of Masters, he already has the memories necessary for her to use to regenerate a body, and either her Keyblade or her mask would make for effective mediums that wouldn’t be too difficult for Luxu to take. If he put her in the white cloth, he probably took her mask off already

Ava hasn’t been around for the events of KHUx, so there’s no timeline discrepancies if it’s her

So, now that we have an idea of who the True Dandelion could be, let’s talk about the rest of the lifeboats and how they might fit together. For the purposes of this discussion, let’s assume that the True Dandelion can’t be one of the Union Leaders and that their battle with Darkness is taking place at the same time as Luxu is sending off the True Dandelion. I’ll be referencing an old theory of mine, while making additions now that it’s clear that there’s two sets of lifeboats: the Data Set and the Real Set

Right now, there’s an equal number of Real Pods and Data Pods: 5 each. For the Data Pods, of the seven that we started with, one was used by Maleficent and one was damaged in the battle between Maleficent and Lauriam. As for the Real Pods, one has been used by Maleficent, and one has been used by the True Dandelion. This leaves us with five each.

We can narrow this down further by eliminating people that we know end up in the future. These are:

Ventus

Subject X, who is most likely Skuld based on her description

Lauriam

Elrena* (of note with Elrena is that we actually have no idea where the hell she is at the moment or how she’s going to get into the pods. Furthermore, while every other lifeboat user sans Maleficent has been shown to have amnesia upon waking and Lauriam/Marluxia directly indicates as such applies to him, too, in KH3, Elrena/Larxene’s KH3 scene and character file short story both indicate that she recalls Lauriam and possibly Strelitzia, though she also seems surprised at the idea that she’s part of an ancient Keyblade legacy. I won’t deny that there’s a possibility that she doesn’t use a lifeboat and ends up in the future by other means based on the discrepancies)

So with three confirmed cases, we’re left with one ambiguous case in Elrena and three more possible candidates: Ephemer, Brain, and Player. Four people, and two pods

I want to make it clear that despite what I brought up against Elrena, I do think that she’ll be using one of the lifeboats if only so that KHUx has narrative consistency. They introduced Elrena, they made her part of the investigation on Strelitzia’s whereabouts, so it only makes sense that they need to show us where she ended up for a satisfying conclusion. So let’s slot Elrena in for one of the lifeboats. That leaves one between Player, Ephemer, and Brain

My best guess is that Player won’t be using a lifeboat at all. Not only are they a create-a-character that would be a HUGE pain to try and incorporate into future entries in the series without making a “canon” version and thus ruining their appeal as an avatar, but we haven’t seen or heard mention of them at all in the games set in the present-day. There’s zero indication that they made it, which makes them the most easily eliminated as a lifeboat user

That leaves Ephemer and Brain, and I still believe that Ephemer will be the final lifeboat user, and for the same reasons as stated in the theory I linked at the start of this section. Not only does Brain have the same facial sprite as Eraqus, but he wields the Master’s Defender which will be later passed down to Eraqus and I believe that this eliminates him as a time traveler, despite the fandom’s popular opinion that it confirms it

Because I don’t believe that Brain is Eraqus’s grandfather, but rather his distant ancestor who inherited the No Name and passed down both Keyblades through the ages

So let’s resolve some plot threads taking everything I’ve stated and linked to above into account

My Big Guess for the KHUx Finale

Ventus will use the fact that Darkness is tied to his heart now to give it a physical, but still mostly amorphous form that he, the Union Leaders, and Player can finally take down. Darkness will be sealed inside Ven’s heart, where it will lie dormant until he reaches the future. Eventually, Xehanort will extract it in the form of Vanitas and it will follow Vanitas’s life cycle, ending in him being reabsorbed into Ven at the end of BBS. Darkness, now back in Ven’s heart, will make brief contact with Sora during the events of Re:Mind

Lauriam, upon learning that the world will be sealed with the use of the lifeboats, will attempt to rescue his partner, Elrena. Both will take lifeboats out of the datascape and into the future, whereupon they will be recruited into Organization XIII by Luxu’s current incarnation, Xigbar, likely to keep an eye on them. I believe there might be a squabble among Ephemer, Skuld, Brain, and Player among who will use the final lifeboats (each person nominating others besides themselves), but ultimately they will settle on Ephemer and Skuld

Skuld will wind up amnesiac in the future Radiant Garden and is discovered by Ansem the Wise and his apprentices and dubbed Subject X. She becomes Xehanort’s favorite test subject due to the similarities in their amnesia and possibly some lingering memories that he has that don’t quite belong to him (KHDR Xehanort certainly seems to want to meet his “old friends” very badly)

Ephemer’s heart will wind up in the Keyblade Graveyard as I mentioned in an old theory, unable to manifest a body due to the lack of a medium present. Through this state of being just a heart (and possibly related to those old talks about him being “unchained”), he will be able to enact the Light of the Past moment from KH3, and may very well be revived for future events in the series

This leaves Brain and Player behind in the datascape. However, you may remember one detail that I brought up, but neglected to fully expand on until now. There is a difference between the Data Pods and the Real Pods. While all of the Real Pods have been used up at the time of my proposed sequence of events, the Data Pods have not been. One was never used, only damaged. This leaves open the possibility that it can also be repaired (Also, I’m just gonna say it. Player’s met someone recently who has a magic hammer that can repair anything... might not come back but also totally could). Brain and Player could then repair the final pod and, in a callback to when Player was sent to Game Central Station, have them both agree once again that Player is the more expendable person in the scenario. Brain will take the repaired pod, leaving no way out of the datascape for anyone else, while Player stays behind to be sealed away for the time being (this could also be a callback to the original KHx, where Player also stayed behind to take part in the war instead of fleeing with the Dandelions, as they refused to leave their party behind)

When Brain escapes, however, he will be met with a Daybreak Town with no Real Pods left, as Luxu used one on the True Dandelion. Now that the seven pods have all been used up and the real Daybreak Town is falling to darkness, Luxu will take a corridor out as the Master instructed, but bring the newly appeared Brain along with him (either that or Brain emerges after Daybreak Town falls, either is possible) and bequeaths the No Name onto him. Brain, stranded in the past while all of his friends have been sent to the future, will be Luxu’s new apprentice and rebuild the fallen Daybreak Town as Scala ad Caelum, then pass down both of his Keyblades: Master’s Defender to his biological descendants, and No Name to his apprentices

As for the Master of Masters? I think he’s already taken an eighth lifeboat (you’ll note that there’s space right in the center of the cluster where one more could theoretically fit) and had done so before the start of the original KHx. He’ll be revived at some point in Xehanort’s young adult life to goad him into his insane plans as seen in Re:Mind, then duck into Quadratum to hang out until the next arc in the franchise, as hinted at with his appearance in the KH3 Secret Movie

(He is most definitely not Sora. He’s clearly bound to the same rules of time travel as everyone else which means that Sora couldn’t go back in time to become him as that would be long before the point in time where Sora was born and that breaks KH time travel rules. Not to mention that the Master talks about Quadratum in this update like he’s never seen it before until it came up in the No Name’s range of vision. Sora is literally in Quadratum right now, he’d definitely know what it was already if he was the Master)

And I do believe that should cover everyone’s whereabouts by the end of the game and into the next arc of Kingdom Hearts with minimal plot holes

This is just my best guess, putting together details that I’ve been accumulating for the past year and a half or so into what sounds like a coherent sequence of events that bridge the gap between KHUx and KH3 and beyond. There may be some details I get wrong, obviously. Nomura has been known to be... unpredictable. But I think, based on the evidence we have at hand, that this is the most logical series of events to end the game on and I’m really interested to see how close this gets to the actual finale we see

[ridiculousn3sswrites]

Prince Thomas - My Princess Pt. 11

*Zendaya x Reader

*Summary: Prince Thomas gets a PoV.

*Warnings: Awkwardness, trying to navigate feelings, failed attempts at flirting, swearing (idk this is just in case). Let me know if I missed anything.

*A/N: The amount of times I would just stand up and talk through Prince Thomas’s stuff while writing this was insane.

Tip Jar

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five || Part Six || Part Seven || Part Eight || Part Nine || Part Ten || Part Eleven

**********

This entire process was nothing new to Tom. He’d known for years that he was expected to court and marry some princess for stronger alliances for his kingdom, and he’d even gone through the courting process a couple times before something or the other happened and they’d go their separate ways. There was always something that bothered him about it; it just seemed like they were a distraction from him being able to live his life for the moment. Tom was still young - there would be time before he would have to step up and take the throne, he just wanted to enjoy life before then.

He should have known it wouldn’t last for long. He got his teen years to spend with Harrison, getting into more trouble than he should have, but now he was approaching his mid-twenties and he’d be expected to stop all of that. It wasn’t considered acceptable that he hasn’t courted anyone since he’d become of age, and he could tell that even his parents were getting antsy about it at this point. His parents didn’t tell him until the day before they were set to visit Xaya, leaving him with no room for objection.

His parents left Harrison’s father in charge, and off they went with their trunks packed in a separate carriage. The trip was going to take a few days - with stops along the way - and the silence that fell over the group was already deafening. Prince Thomas knew nothing about Xaya, other than the fact that his kingdom had some form of an alliance with them. He knew he’d have to learn something about them if he was expected to marry their princess, but that could wait until later into the engagement.

It didn’t take long for Prince Thomas’s father to hand him a bundle of papers. As soon as the bundle landed in his lap, Prince Thomas looked away from the carriage window. “What’s this?”

“It’s some information about our friends in Xaya. Adviser Osterfield put together a crash course for you,” the King explained. “We have enough time until we get there for you to familiarize yourself.”

“Why do I have to know about Xaya? Wouldn’t the Princess be coming back home with me?” Thomas asked. He watched as his mother put her hand on his father’s knee before speaking.

“She’s the sole heir to the throne in Xerin, I don’t expect she’ll want to leave so easily. Especially with her family’s reputation of service to their people,” she explained. “Show that you care for her land, and she may consider you as a genuine candidate.”

“I thought her hand was guaranteed.” His mother shook her head.

“We’re going to officially ask for a betrothal, but she may be allowed to dissolve the engagement at any point.” Prince Thomas didn’t know that was allowed, but he just nodded in understanding. There must have been a reason his parents were insisting on this woman, and he didn’t want to ruin the work they’d put into setting this entire thing up. “We also put the terms of the betrothal in there. We should be the ones handling it, but we want you to know what’s going on too.”

Now that was the interesting part. Prince Thomas started rifling through the papers given to him, hoping there would be something that was obvious as the terms of the betrothal. He caught brief glimpses of other information - a map of the kingdom, what appeared to be a list of alliances, normal diplomatic relations stuff - until he saw a document with his family’s official seal. It listed out what Xerin would provide following the engagement - a large monetary gift to Xaya after the wedding, free travel between the two kingdoms, typical things - and the expectations of Xaya - military support should it be needed, the princess to come to Xerin following the wedding, access to the diplomatic resources Xaya had. As far as Prince Thomas was concerned, everything seemed standard for an arranged marriage.

The trip to Xaya would take a couple days, so there would be time for Prince Thomas to go through the packet and memorize things, especially when they stopped to rest at night. Even as he combed through the packet, there was nothing really about the Princess herself. Then again, that wasn’t really important in arranged marriages; they’d both do what was best for their kingdoms.

**********

It seemed as though the world was out to get him. As the royals relaxed for the night and prepared for the next day’s travels, a messenger rode up to the cabin. He wasn’t allowed into the room while his parents talked to the messenger, but he had an idea that their plans would have to change. On other diplomatic trips he’d taken with his parents, they normally weren’t bothered with small details; Harrison’s father and the other advisors were trusted to handle the small things while they were gone. If a messenger was sent, something must have happened (and perhaps Thomas would be allowed to live as a single man for a while longer). 

Of course that wasn’t how things would work. His parents called him into the room, both looking more serious than they had the entire day. His father was the first to break the silence. “Thomas, there’s been a change of plans.”

“Aw, really? What a shame, I guess we’ll have to visit Xaya some other day,” Prince Thomas tried to brush it off. His mother furrowed her brow.

“You talk about this trip as though it’s a leisure trip,” she said. “However, the trip will go as planned for you. Your father and I are going to take a carriage back to the kingdom and you will proceed ahead to Xaya.”

“Wait, what? Aren’t you guys supposed to handle all of this?” Thomas asked, panicking slightly.

“You know the terms of the betrothal, you will be able to handle this. After all, you’ll have to negotiate the terms of betrothal for your own children one day. Consider it as practice,” she replied. “You will be fine.”

Thomas wanted to tell her just how wrong she was, but he would never tell his mother that. If his parents trusted him enough to handle this entire thing on his own, then he would do his best to not let them down. He simply nodded.

“Please give the King and Queen our apologies. We will try to join you as soon as we can, but we’re not sure when that will be,” his father said.

**********

Traveling alone was not as fun as he thought it’d be. He’d always had dreams of traveling the world on his own, but when he was forced to travel to another kingdom on official business on his own, he only found nerves and no enjoyment at all. The day he arrived to Xaya, he would have to present the request in front of the royal family. Of course there had been preliminary talks, so this request would not come out of the blue, but it was still a request nonetheless.

As soon as he was announced for his audience in front of the royal family, his mind went blank. His body moved on autopilot, the training he’d had for years providing him the chance to just try to restart his mind. The second he saw her, the one who was supposed to be his betrothed (if only he could actually get through this meeting), he could’ve sworn he heard angels singing as his breath was taken from his lungs. She looked bored, and like she’d rather be anywhere than sitting at the front of the room, but she was still stunning. He needed to do this right. 

As her mother introduced the Princess, she reached out her hand. He stepped forward, taking it and brushing a kiss against her knuckles. “It’s a pleasure.”

Though she gave him a kind smile, he could tell there was something else behind her eyes. He didn’t expect her to be completely comfortable with him seconds after meeting him, but he expected it would come in time. As he stepped back to discuss the terms of betrothal with the King and Queen - though they’d received the terms in written form - his eyes kept wandering to the Princess. She wasn’t completely present in the conversation, but she was watching him. Perhaps she was sizing him up, maybe just taking in his appearance, but her attention was enough to send a shiver up his spine. There was a moment of silence after he explained the terms of the betrothal and the King and Queen took in the proposal.

“Then it is settled,” her father said. “You and my daughter will be wed before the year is finished.”

Prince Thomas had to stop himself from showing his excitement, instead opting to smile at the royals. “Thank you, sir. I’ll write my parents in the morning to let them know the good news.”

When he looked over at the Princess, her shock was evident. Had her parents not let her know the betrothal was a possibility? She was looking across the room, and as he stepped to the side to allow the audiences to end, he saw she had locked eyes with a guard on the other side of the room. The other woman looked like she was trying not to look bothered, but her clenched jaw and narrowed eyes gave her away. As audiences ended, the Princess tried making her exit, but the Queen directed her to him instead.

He could feel the heat in his face as he tried his best to just talk normally to the Princess. Well, as normally as he could in front of her parents. Of course her beauty was what caught his attention, but he wanted to see if he’d truly be compatible with his future bride. While actual feelings weren’t a necessity for arranged marriages, he could see himself falling for the Princess. 

**********

Prince Thomas sent the letter to his parents in the morning, asking for permission to stay in Xaya for the duration of the engagement. It might be a long shot, but he wanted the chance to get to know his future bride as well as he could. With how shocked she seemed by the betrothal, he could tell it might take a while for her to warm up to him. All he could do was try to make himself familiar to the Princess and hope her fondness would grow for him.

He could tell she was simply being polite at first, but he didn’t want to hold that against her. Polite was supposed to be the default for royals, especially around others they didn’t know. There were moments when he could see her really bring down her walls, but even those were fleeting at first - walking through the gardens, when she teased him for not knowing his way around the castle at first, the moment on the balcony as they overlooked the kingdom. That moment on the balcony, just talking to her and seeing the love she held for her people, he realized his mother was right. She didn’t want to leave her land, but he would have to lead his with her.

As he tried spending more time with the Princess, there was one clear barrier in his way: her guard dog, Lady Zendaya. At first he tried making jokes about it, but he was quickly shot down by (y/n). After all, Lady Zendaya was her best friend and she would not hear anything ill of the other woman. He could understand; if someone were to try talking ill about Harrison, he wouldn’t entertain it either. However, his frustrations just continued. Every time he tried spending time alone with the Princess - having tea, taking walks, having dinner - Lady Zendaya was only a few feet away, watching him like a hawk.

Whenever he had the chance to actually be alone with her - or even just with a different guard - he took the opportunity. She was warming up to him, she really was, and Thomas figured it wouldn’t be long for feelings to actually grow. He received word from Harrison that he’d be coming to Xaya in the coming days, and he felt like he needed to have some sort of progress to show for all the time he’d spent away from his kingdom. Prince Thomas asked her to dinner when she returned to the castle after having spent the day away, and he was ecstatic when Lady Zendaya didn’t join them.

Then he messed up. He escorted her back to her chambers - as he tended to do if they had dinner together - and stalled for time as they were in front of her door. “Thank you for joining me tonight.”

“Of course, it was a nice dinner,” she said with a soft smile.

“It was nice to get some proper time alone with you. I always enjoy getting to see who you are outside of the expectations of our roles,” he said, taking her hands in his. Thomas rubbed his thumb over the side of her hand, trying to figure out how to make his next move. “You’re really an amazing person, I want to be able to spend more time alone with you.”

Before she could respond, he leaned in with eyes closed. The hand on his chest, gently pushing him away, brought him back to the reality. She set her terms, requiring a chaperone on any potential future outings, and he wasn’t going to argue with her about that. He made her uncomfortable, and he was going to have to deal with the consequences. Thomas wished her a goodnight, not even fully around the corner before he allowed a swear to escape him. He really messed that up.

**********

Harrison coming to Xaya seemed to be exactly the thing he needed. Trying to figure out all of this on his own, sending letters back home occasionally for advice, wasn’t exactly working in his favor. Prince Thomas had been moping after the rejection, trying to figure out how to make things better.

“Tom, mate, why don’t you just talk to her?” Harrison asked, reclining on the Prince’s bed as Thomas paced around the room.

“She doesn’t wanna see me.”

“Did she tell you that?”

“No, but why would she want to? I really made her uncomfortable, Haz,” Thomas whined as he continued his pacing.

“Just go and apologize to her, she’ll probably appreciate you admitting you were wrong,” Harrison said. “I’m gonna get dizzy if you keep pacing in circles like that.”

“I don’t know, then I’ll have to apologize in front of a guard, and if it’s her guard dog then Lord help me I’ll probably end up dead.”

“I thought she didn’t like you calling her guard a guard dog?”

“Well, yes, but you should see the way Lady Zendaya glares at me whenever we’re in the same room.”

“They take shifts, right? Just go when it’s not Lady Zendaya’s shift and apologize to her.” That made Thomas completely pause in his pacing and just look at his friend. It was really that easy, and he couldn’t believe he never thought of it in the days he’d been avoiding the situation. Maybe then things could go back to the way they were developing, and he could slowly work towards the intimacy he craved with her.

“Haz, you might just be a genius,” Thomas said, rushing to the side of the bed just to clasp a hand on his friend’s shoulder. Harrison jumped at the sudden contact.

“Christ, man! Why’d you have to rush me like that?” Harrison exclaimed. Thomas didn’t acknowledge the protest, instead focused on how to get his relationship back on track. 

With this new plan, Thomas needed to apologize as soon as possible. He already figured he’d lost valuable time by avoiding her for these past few days, but if he was sincere enough, then maybe she’d be willing to forgive him. Thomas talked to a few people around the castle, finding out where the Princess was. He spoke to the guard outside the library doors briefly, and he was actually surprised when the guard didn’t put up much argument against him. As soon as he was inside the library, he could tell he was walking on thin ice with her. He didn’t plan out the apology, instead opting to go in with a vague idea on what he wanted to say to her. After all, the best apologies came from the heart.

**********

Every day he thanked the heavens she accepted his apology. She had every right to refuse him, but as long as he stuck to her boundaries, she was willing to give him another chance. However, he had to admit that having Harrison there to hang out with allowed for him to relax a bit. She seemed to really get along with Harrison, and he saw her becoming more open with the both of them. What had been polite smiles before turned genuine, her laughter became one of his favorite sounds, the shine in her eyes as he told stories from his teen years made him want to tell more, even if he embarrassed himself. Though he’d fallen for her beauty at first, he could say that she was definitely more than just a pretty face, and he’d be truly honored to have her ruling beside him.

The festival that Harrison brought up was the perfect chance to show off for her. He’d been to a few festivals in Xerin with Harrison, and he saw the way other men would win things for the women they were courting (or trying to). He knew there was something about festivals that held a romantic air, and he hoped (y/n) would feel the same. When the Princess agreed to going with them, he knew this would be his big chance.

Thomas didn’t plan for Lady Zendaya to go with them, though now it made sense to him. However, he truly didn’t plan for the Princess to first look at Lady Zendaya to win prizes for her. He didn’t expect to end up in a semi-joking competition with Lady Zendaya to win the most prizes for the Princess, but he would say he held his own fairly well. Even though this obstacle was present, he couldn’t deny the pure enjoyment in his heart. The Princess was finally calling him by his name rather than his title, she looked like she was having an amazing time, gifting him with things he loved - her smile, her laughter, that gleam in her eyes that could only come from having the time of her life.

When the Princess brought up staying for the fireworks, Prince Thomas knew this was his chance. Lady Zendaya stepped away for a bit, and he couldn’t believe the heavens aligned for him like this. Once their small group found somewhere to watch the fireworks, Thomas turned to the Princess to make small talk. He just wanted to make sure she was enjoying this night as much as he was. He was rewarded with her bright smile, taking his breath away as it tended to do.

“I’m glad you had fun,” he told her. He took a second, stealing his nerves for what he wanted to say next, but he was interrupted by the sound of the first fireworks firing into the air. She looked away from him, awe on her face as she watched the colors explode in the sky. He looked up to watch the display as well, but he had to try something, so he brushed his fingers against hers, wanting to take her hand in his. She must not have noticed, not with the way she gasped at the new colors in the sky and held her hands over her heart. His pride was slightly wounded, but the way she watched the sky was enough to make it okay.

Lady Zendaya returned soon after the first set of fireworks, taking her place by the Princess’s side. As the colorful display in the sky continued, Prince Thomas couldn’t help but steal glances at the Princess. The way she watched the sky - eyes bright and lips slightly parted in awe - was enough to make his heart race. It didn’t take long for her to become the focus of his gaze, but when his gaze traveled only a few inches to the side, he could feel his breath catch in his throat. Lady Zendaya was also watching the Princess, eyes soft and a small smile threatening to break the cold demeanor she usually held. It was fonder than two friends, even if they were best friends. It was the way he looked at the Princess.  

Harrison warned them that the ten minutes was up, and Thomas was forced into his thoughts as they walked back to the High Priestess’s house. The words he’d wanted to tell the Princess earlier played at the back of his mind, but they now had a new piece of information. I’ve fallen in love with you, but I think she has too.

**********

Tag List: @uncookspaget​, @ddesert-rosee, @gangganggg

Permanent Tag List: @treatallwithkindness, @laic2299, @delaber

[recurring-polynya]

Request: RenRuki; Mad Scientist!Renji shocks Frankenstein Monster!Rukia with electricity to test the endurance of Mikasa's heart

I am not quite sure who you mean by Mikasa-- I am guessing either Masaki or Hisana? I really enjoy making Renji into Byakuya’s beleaguered minion in any universe, and I was extremely charmed by the idea of the latter, so that’s what I went with. I supposed this is a little less “Mad Scientist” and a little more Ticked-Off Postdoc, but a crumbling castle on a moonswept cliff? In this economy??

CW: Some detailed discussion of building a monster out of body parts. It’s not intended to be scary or gross, but just wanted to be on the safe side.

Read on ao3 or ff.net

🧪   🧠   ⚡

I should have finished my dissertation, Abarai Renji thought to himself, irritably rubbing at the nicotine patch under the collar of his shirt.

Education-in-perpetuum was a rich kid’s game, though, and when he’d had to choose between a paying entry-level gig at Kuchiki Biotech or a continued monk-like existence grading freshman papers and scrubbing out the autoclave, he’d followed the money. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time, working in industry. Eating food that didn’t come with a seasoning packet, living in an apartment that had both heating and air-conditioning, the indescribable luxury of a monthly transit pass. Yeah, it stung a little when Kira and Hinamori sent selfies of themselves at that conference in Berlin, and later, in their stupid graduation get-ups, but after seven years of working his ass off, of being on time every day, of covering his ink and minding his manners, Renji had been noticed by Kuchiki Byakuya himself, the reclusive CEO of the company.

“You were a student of Dr. Aizen Sousuke?” Kuchiki had asked, his cold grey eyes skipping past Renji’s carefully knotted tie and spotless lab coat to linger on his bandana and the cover-up smudges that protruded from beneath it. “The cephalopod neurophysicist?”

“That’s correct.”

“His work on artificial chromatophores was stunning.”

Right. That.

“Er, the camouflage stuff wasn’t my area of interest, but I have a couple of friends in that area if you’re--”

“You studied nervous system regeneration. But you did not graduate.”

Renji had tried not to look surprised, because his supervisor had warned him that Byakuya liked to try and surprise people and then judge them for being surprised. Byakuya had probably just dug up his resume from HR prior to this interview. “That’s right. Well. About the nervous system thing. I did graduate, just, y’know, ABD. That’s not even true, I wrote about half a dissertation. Maybe two-thirds.” His mouth snapped shut. Kuchiki Byakuya definitely did not want to hear about his two-thirds of a dissertation.

“I read your article in the Journal of Zoological Neuroscience, the one about using a donor octopus brain to reanimate a dead specimen? I assume you wrote it. You were listed as second author, but it was not rife with Dr. Aizen’s usual bloviations. It was excellent work.”

Renji had failed in his attempts to keep from looking surprised.

“I am starting a special project that could use a man of your expertise. Dr. Shirogane spoke well of your time here, and felt that you were ready to take on the role of primary investigator.” Byakuya looked at his extremely expensive watch, as though he were already getting bored of this meeting. “It is a small project, a one-man project, and I am afraid it will not produce any sort of publishable results. In fact, I will require you to sign a number of non-disclosure agreements, should you accept. But it is a very important project to me, personally.”

Renji could still remember the excitement, the feel of his heart stuttering in his chest. He imagined telling Kira and Hinamori about the personal project he was doing for the wealthiest biotech entrepreneur in Japan. He felt smart. He felt important. He felt like industry was finally paying off for him.

Two days later, he found out that this project involved grave-robbing.

It turned out that Kuchiki was a widower. His wife had been a kind, beautiful angel who had died of complications from cystic fibrosis at the tender age of 34. Despite everything, her heart has been very strong at the time of her death. So Kuchiki kept it, y’know, like a normal person. And then he found one of his employees, a guy with big muscles and no family and a lot of student debt, and asked him to make a new body to put that heart in.

That was three years ago. Since then, Renji had acquired his own sub-basement laboratory and a used pick-up truck. He had a lot of middle-of-the-night meetings with Kuchiki, where he got used to delivering absolutely deranged progress reports in a calm and conversational tone. He’d taken up smoking again, but then he had to quit because Kuchiki didn’t like the smell. He stopped seeing most of his old friends, in favor of his fabulous new friends, like Isane, the nervous assistant mortician at the hospital, and Hisagi, who worked down at the funeral home and drove a hearse like it was a Shelby Cobra. His new best drinking buddy was a guy named Akon, who worked over at Kurosutchi Heavy Industries and was building some sort of cyborg daughter for his creepy boss.

And now he had her.

Maybe she’ll turn out to be better than a dissertation, Renji thought, contemplating the girl-thing floating in an antifreeze bath in his sub-basement lab.

She was small, in part because the original Hisana had been small, but also because regrowing the nervous system had been the hardest part, and the less he had to grow, the better.

At first, he’d put a fair amount of effort into making her look like Hisana, but Byakuya never seemed to give a shit about stuff like that, so Renji started to take a few liberties here and there. An athlete’s limbs (well, more like three different athlete’s limbs) gave her a lean and powerful build, instead of the wispy slenderness of her predecessor. He’d been very picky about the eyes, but his patience had paid off when he scored a stunning pair from Ishida, a bitter med student who had a part time job in the university’s dissection sample acquisition department. They were deep blue, nearly verging on purple, like a starless sky. Renji wasn’t very good at suturing at first, and the big, clunky stitches that held her mismatched parts together were a little jarring. Renji had come to rather like them, though. She wasn’t a perfect, flawless angel. She was a pile of lost potential, cobbled together and given a second chance, and he liked that she wore that openly on her skin. If she didn’t like it, well, he could always offer to take her down to his tattoo place.

The only thing Byakuya had objected to was the brain.

It was a criminal’s brain, or at least that’s what Byakuya said. The brain had belonged to a teen girl who’d been caught shoplifting, and in her attempt to make a break for it, darted into traffic. It was extremely fresh, though. The girl died in the hospital and Isane called him right away. By the time Byakuya even found out about it, Renji already had the brain nestled in among the little baby human-octopus hybrid nervous system he’d been growing, so there was nothing to be done. Renji had assured Byakuya it would be fine, she wasn’t going to remember anything about her old life anyway. He did not mention that he’d done a fair bit of petty theft in his youth, and he’d turned out… well. Never mind.

He’d turned out to be an insane person, actually. A person who flaunted the rules of ethics and nature. He was an actual, real-life, mad scientist (ABD). Well, assuming all this worked.

In the morning, Byakuya was expecting a demonstration. The demonstration. The part where Renji pulled a lever and sent enough voltage surging through that precious little Kuchiki heart to bring Byakuya���s new sister to life.

He’d run and re-run all the individual organ tests. Reviewed his check list three times. Read and re-read all his notes. It was either going to work, or it wasn’t. If it worked, he was a genius, a mastermind. Kuchiki would give him a pat on the back and a big bonus and he was also going to start addressing Renji as Doctor Abarai, dissertation be damned.

If it failed, Renji was going to be lugging his belongings to the curb in a cardboard box.

It was now 2:16am.

If he went home, he’d just stare at the ceiling for four hours, but at least he would be able to shower before he had to face his moment of doom.

You could just do it, he realized. Pull the lever. Pull it right now.

Byakuya would be pissed, of course, he wanted to be there for the Big Shock, but if it worked, he’d be so happy to have a living, breathing, undead sister that he’d probably overlook Renji jumping the gun. If it didn’t work, Renji would have those four hours to troubleshoot.

The more he thought about it, the better the idea sounded. He honestly wasn’t real sure what kind of mental capabilities, if any, his monster girl was going to have. If she woke up spitting and clawing, he was okay with that, but Byakuya might not take it so well. Yeah, it definitely made good sense to give her a boot up now, so there were no surprises in the morning.

Renji stood up, and strode over to the portable generator he’d rigged up over the weekend. His hand hovered over the switch. He was gonna do it.

No.

In a minute.

He walked back over to the cold tank and plopped down in the chair sitting next to it, where he often sat when he had Serious Thinking to do. She floated serenely an inch under the liquid, her pale skin tinted blue, her hair floating in a cloud around her face. The cold was necessary to keep her organs in stasis, and it’s not like she could feel it, but he felt a little bad about it anyway.

“Hey, there,” he said softly. “It’s me. Renji. We’ve been through a lot, you and me. I’m gonna turn you on, in a minute. I’m not sure how it’s gonna go. I’ve been kind of a screw-up my whole life, but you seem pretty perfect, so may we’ll even each other out.” He chewed the inside of his cheek. “Another guy is gonna come by in the morning. He’s rich and powerful and has, like 17 cars. He’s gonna be your brother, and if you can be a convincing enough person, he’s gonna treat you like his sister and you’ll be set for life. But I want you to know that even if you’re a failure, even if you try to eat my face or something, that I always liked you. Hopefully, I’ll still get to see you a lot. But if not… I just wanted to let you know that I’m only giving you up ‘cause I gotta, not ‘cause I want to.” He breathed out through his nose. “Kuchiki’s probably gonna give you some flowery princess name. He’s never told me. But a while ago, I started thinking of you as ‘Rukia.’ I don’t really know where it came from. I think it means ‘light.’ So if you don’t like whatever name he gives you, you always got that one to fall back on.” He slapped his knees and stood up. “Enough of this! It’s time for you to get up.”

Once again, Renji stood, gripping the on switch in one sweaty hand. “Here goes nothing,” he declared, and flipped it.

First, there was a hum, which gradually raised in pitch until his ears rang. The needle on the voltage gauge climbed steadily. A few wisps of Renji’s hair began to stand on end. Rukia’s body bucked.

And then, with a loud crack, all the lights went out. Fuck.

Of all the things he had double and triple checked, the power supply to the generator had not been one of them. Renji groaned, and scrolled through his phone, trying to find the damn flashlight app. He only had 6% battery, which meant it was going to last about sixteen seconds. Fortunately, his lab was on an isolated circuit, so hopefully, he hadn’t knocked out power anywhere else in the building.

He had his phone pointed the wrong way when he turned the app on, and it immediately blinded him. “Ah, shit!” he exclaimed.

As he was blinking the stars out of his eyes, he heard a splash and he realized that he might have actually managed to bring Rukia to life before the generator died. He dashed over to the bath frantically. If she tried to get her own oxygen mask off, she might drown. Renji scanned liquid with his flashlight, but it was murky with bubbles. He couldn’t see anything. Had she sunk down to the bottom? He was practically leaning over the tank when he felt a hand on his arm that was so frigid that it burned, even through his lab coat and the shirt beneath it.

Slowly, Renji panned his already-dimming flashlight around, keeping it pointed at the floor, in part, so he didn’t blind her as he had himself, and in part because… well, because…

“Hi,” he said, as a pale face swam into view.

“Hi,” she repeated in the exact same inflection.

She could talk. She had speech, or at least repetition abilities. Renji wanted desperately to take notes, but he was frozen. “How do you feel?” he asked.

Those big, dark blue eyes blinked at him. “Cold,” Rukia replied.

[literaila]

hm. have you given me a specific show that’s one of your favorites? i’ll watch it right away. i do as well, i’ve been on a star wars movie for like months.. and ‘early man’ which was like, since summer. but.. what if you both die anyways? then that would be for nothing.

alsooo! have i asked for your favorite quote? or poem?

so. very hard to explain. me and my mother were at a store- then i saw these 2 guys that looked off. one pulled like a hood or beanie over him. so i was instantly like, “i have a bad feeling about this.” and i told my mother. she was like “???” but i dragged her over to the cashier and we just finished up before those guys pulled out guns. so the store was getting robbed and everything- i was right, obviously- and i just booked it. instantly ran out those doors, my mother following behind. we got into the car and drove away, then it cut off. i wonder if we got the bags and stuff that we bought. can’t remember. hope so.

right. so now i’m alone. in the streets or whatever. i think it was dark? i was just trying to get around, food and water, blah blah. i don’t know.

cut off again. now i’m at school. guess what? we’re held hostage. by the same two fucking idiots. it was so weird too. like we weren’t getting murdered or anything? just captive. we had class slowly, nothing really.. stopped completely. was a bit depressing. so it was lunch or we were outside, and i asked one of my teachers “you’re in on it, right?” because i thought it was a joke and all. there was no way that could be real, especially with how we were handling it. very weird. she just responded with, “no. this is real” and we were still switching classes and all. i didn’t really talk or anything, pretty silent.

it cut again. so in the middle of school, i kinda woke up then dozed off again. last dream. some of my classmates & i were.. outside. far away from school, i think. and it was dark outside. we touched something, and it was like a huge building. kinda like a castle. that’s all i can remember. sorry for the rant, my dreams are pretty weird. did i tell you about the one where i forgot my shoes at school?

yes i 100% agree. i think i’ve cried once in fourth grade and never after that. i can barely cry by myself, let alone in a school with teachers and kids. no way.

i left on page 434. so.. and my mother said she loved the twilight films, like, actually loved them. my mother spoiled it for me. haha. they got married??? and bella’s pregnant?? in the second one, or what? ugh. now i wanna know. yes obviously i did. who wouldn’t like chocolate? also, my brother bought donuts. i tasted one bite from the one my sister picked up- it was good. i’ll bring one with me to school.

no, i’m definitely the comedian. i have dark humor, but still classified as a comedian. i’m much more funnier >:)

noooo. i didn’t mean it like that. a late night walk, or an evening walk. outside. not in my house. i pace around a lot, since i daydream so much and. i just pace a lot. glad!! very glad. make sure to drink some water! that’s very important.

ahh, yeah. school is tomorrow. do you have any work on monday’s? that sounds horrible. i don’t write, but i know that feeling when you want to do something and just. don’t do it. tomorrow will be better! trust me, slug.

oh no no. let me guess, luke through or luke and see something. boringggg!

i think i’m going to sleep? well, obviously i’ll try to stay up to the best of my abilities. but goodnight verity. sleep well, slug :)

— 🐢

i just don’t know if you’ll like any of them. you might like “the haunting of hill house” if you aren’t afraid of ghosts— think you said you haven’t watched that. ha! i’ve learned that when i watch things for the first time i pay absolutely no attention. well then i tried— that’s worth it to me.

oh well. my favorite poem is one of my own— that’s a bit egotistical, but hey, i never said i was perfect. actually, yes i did. i am (get it?). as for quotes i’m just gonna…

“horror rips my eyelids open.”

“‘yes’ he says ‘this is okay’”

“‘because if i lower my voice i won’t be able to hear myself speak. and that’ he says ‘is my favorite part.”

okay last one. “his smile is wide, so wide. ‘god, i love that’

‘your name?’

‘only when you say it’”

(in case you couldn’t already tell, those are all from shatter me)

but! i also like “hell is empty and all the devils are here”

you remember a lot. im kind of amazed. that’s an insane amount of detail— and strange. i like dream theory, but i still couldn’t tell you what all that says about yourself. you.. forgot? your shoes at school? i know it didn’t actually happen— but how did you manage that? my dreams are all just blurs. had one about a criminal minds x greys anatomy… it was quite terrifying actually.

last time i cried at school was last week. but to be fair, i was crying cause of tv and not because of school. when i get really frustrated and can’t voice my thoughts out loud— all the time —i cry.

they don’t get married in the second one, and they also don’t have a baby. the second one is actually really sad so.. none of that. but the end is good. the end is great. lots of people don’t like chocolate. mmm donuts. yummy, glad you’re eating breakfast. i had soup this morning.

tell me one joke.

late night walks are dangerous >:( but yes, i understand what you mean. walks are nice, sometimes.

i like working on mondays but i don’t anymore. not working till tomorrow, and then on thursday. doing homework now so.

actually, no. luke how much snow there is. so funny, awe-inspiring, magnificent.

hope you slept well darling, enjoy today.

-v

[yoonzinow]

red moon - intro 

➼ So I never did anything on tumblr, but a while back I wrote something based on the 'Bad Clue' episode of Going Seventeen and I'm sooooo nervous but I decided to post a bit of it to see if anyone is interested in reading the rest. It does have a reader, but it's pretty neutral, (I'm pretty sure I didn't use any pronouns) but it's mostly Mingyu's side of the story, explaining why he did it. I removed completely the DID part because I wasn't into the idea of using mental illness for the sake of a plot. But there is talk of crimes, s*icide and trauma, so it can still be triggering. I changed a lot from the episode to match the ages and only mentioned a few other members. There is also work misconduct and probably inaccuracies regarding treatment so I apologize. I also apologize for my English, is not my first language so there might be some weird sentences and typos! I tried to add ‘keep reading’ so I hope it works. Let me know if I should post this. 

Since you became a therapist, you knew you who you would want to work with: the criminally insane.

Some people would say it was weakness to defend someone’s actions like that, or to treat a patient like anyone else while knowing the horrible things they had done, but to you, it was simply curiosity. There was a fascination behind getting into someone’s mind so deeply you could find answers to why they were able to perform such actions with no remorse whatsoever.

Sometimes, it was this single information from their past who would show something wasn’t right or the smallest trauma that would poke out eventually in a devious way, or sometimes, it was the extreme case of a psychopath, which was even more fascinating. And that’s all that instigated you: how much of the human emotion one could waste until they don’t have any left at all?

Kim Mingyu.

 You treated all of your patients the same, and even though it was a rule at first, it eventually became something natural. The own essence of your job was to not judge, but simply help those people by stopping them from hurting others and themselves.

There wasn’t much time to react or pick sides, once a patient was assigned to you, you had to assist them and report, simple as that. However, for the first time, in that boring morning, you stopped on your tracks as you read the name of your next patient.

The nurses all over the ward gathered at the break room were whispering and wondering about the latest addition to the Hospital’s list of criminals.

Mina, a short and small nurse who would eventually fill you up on the gossip from the staff came closer.

-So that boy was finally caught, huh? – she took a sip of her tea and sat next to you while you read the medical record and police report given to you earlier that day. – I think you’ll have him, considering the pattern they follow with your cases. Young people with childhood trauma who can still be saved?

You weren’t sure whether her comments were sarcastic or harmless, but you were too deep in your mind to even wonder.

-Sorry, I prefer not to talk about my patients at all. In fact, I’m not allowed. –You smiled politely and stood up, walking to your office.

But the name was still in your head.  You couldn’t help but wonder if treating him would be a conflict or unethical.

Your relationship with Jeon Wonwoo, if you could call that, was short lived. By the time you were in college, studying was your top priority, there being little to no room for relationships. Wonwoo was studying to become a doctor, but you two happened to take a few classes together. Sometimes, after classes, you would hang out, share notes and help each other with projects. Eventually, that became going out for drinks and hooking up. There was no label, since you both knew that he would be graduating soon and you wouldn’t see each other, so you decided not to push it too deep to avoid being hurt later. He wasn’t the warmest person you ever met but he was a good person as far as you knew.

Even though your relationship was no Hollywood romance, you couldn’t help but be shocked when you saw his name on the news, along with the several men who had been murdered in a single night by a mentally ill young man.

 Maybe you should have told someone about that, maybe someone would tell you it wasn’t appropriate and you would avoid the whole thing, but you didn’t. Instead, you waited for the next day when Mingyu would arrive.

The walk from the outside gates through the garden and into the facility would not feel any shorter, no matter how many times you crossed it. Sure, you could drive inside and hop out of the car right outside the main building, but something about the gardens and the purity of the flowers all around eased your insides a bit, considering you would be soon facing a heavy spirited space, filled with regrets and rage.

The vibrant green from the grass was a big contrast to the boring shades of grey on the walls, especially when the Sun was out, peaking through the clouds and shining over the field.

As you reached the front, there was a meticulous identification. Even though the guards already knew you, they still needed your badge. You finished the whole process and walked towards the Board meeting room where you’d be given all the details about the cases. You were told about the criminal part only, which, to be honest, wouldn’t really interest you that much. However, when it came to the murder of someone you somewhat cared about, you listened carefully to the version given in court, along with his sentence and alleged motifs. After learning the necessary, you left and got ready to work.

There wasn’t much time left for thinking when you heard the loud sound of the old metal gates opening and the beep of the electrical system indicating the door was opening. A quick knock on the door was heard and you knew there was no way out. You had to treat the man who killed your ex-boyfriend.

The talk with the first patient wasn’t out of the ordinary, since she had been with you for a few months, easily communicating and opening up. The moment she left, you started to get nervous, which didn’t happen that often, at least not since your first days on the job. You wouldn’t pursue that kind of career if you had any fear, but not being nervous standing two feet apart from a serial killer for the first time wasn’t exactly easy.

The amount of nervousness you felt showed exactly why people shouldn’t have patients with any sort of connection. As the clock got closer and closer to the time of his first appointment, you started sweating. Was it a bad idea? Should I just tell someone before he arrives? What if…

[pricemarshfield]

what do you truly desire?

A Deckerstar human/romcom AU. Chapter 5/10, read on AO3 here (or the full fic here). Will be rated E eventually, so minors DNI.

Five months later, Lucifer's life is fantastic.

It's not a surprise. His life has always been better than the average person's: plenty of money, some of the world's best alcohol, possibly the most active sex life of anyone in the LA area. Maze's brief trend of being gentle after Chloe had rejected him because of her has long-since ended, so she's back to her normal self: quick-witted and vicious and Lucifer's best friend.

She doesn't tell him anymore stories about her roommate, and he doesn't ask her about Chloe. It's basically the same way they did things before, just with the one tweak. Still, it's not as though he doesn't know when she tiptoes around things. Maze happily starts a story about building a model rocket with her other best friend (Lucifer holds a hand to his chest, mostly-mock-offended) but then clams up when Lucifer asks the friend's name or any other details, or Maze corrects him on some minor detail about LA's liquor laws that only someone who spent a lot of time with a cop would know. (Lucifer doesn't remember what that one was. Maze handles the books.)

Lucifer continues to talk up their customers almost every night, waxing poetic about their most expensive whiskeys, whispering in a handsome man's ear about how good Maze looks mixing cocktails, helping them through the potential sexuality crisis that tends to cause. It's certainly not a traditional lifestyle, but anyone he has a conversation with long enough to actually talk about it tend to say how lucky he is.

Which is right, obviously. He's lucky. What more could he want?

Of course, the life of a club owner doesn't start at opening. He needs a new suit, deep blue for an event someone's paying a truly sinful amount of money to host at Lux, and his tailor won't do house calls. Maze had tried, at one point, to wake him up earlier, if only so that he'd cook her breakfast since she burns everything short-of-but-sometimes-including toast. But he spends over a thousand on just the sheets on his bed, let alone how much he spent on the mattress, and he's damn well going to enjoy it.

(It's not--and this is crucial--it's not moping. He doesn't have anything to mope over, definitely not, his life is absolutely wonderful and he doesn't spend any time thinking of a blonde woman who doesn't swoon at everything he says like anyone he puts any effort in with, the first person he'd been interested in since Eve and the rebellion she represented.)

He's running late for the appointment, due to some truly abysmal traffic and a lack of parking anywhere near the shop, so he's rushing along through the crowd of people that seem to be omnipresent anytime he needs to get somewhere quickly in this city.

"Excuse me, pardon me, I'm actually in a hurry, so--okay, now you're purposefully obstructing everyone here, step to the side if you're going to text--" He turns his head to stare down the offending party, a stern-faced woman with a harsh haircut and horrifically short bangs--when he runs right into someone in the street and gets hot coffee all over his person.

It's not necessarily bad form to swear in public, but the string of words that come out of his mouth certainly cross the line into bad etiquette. It hurts like a motherfucker, and worst of all, the shirt he's wearing is white. Lucifer spares a moment to be thankful--not to a God or anything, just in general--that he's already got an appointment with a tailor.

"Shit!" says the woman he bumped into, and Lucifer turns his head to see Chloe. Because he'd only just managed to mostly put her out of his mind, and the universe is a vicious, punishing thing. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry--"

She's still looking with dismay between his shirt and what's left of her coffee, not at his face, and Lucifer coughs a little. "I didn't take you for a black coffee drinker."

Chloe looks up at him, eyes wide with surprise. "Lucifer? That's--insane, LA is a city of almost 4 million people, what are the chances?"

"Given my luck? Quite high, actually," Lucifer says, and Chloe's expression shutters almost quick enough for Lucifer to miss the flash of hurt across her face. "Because of the coffee! Not--I did like this shirt, but it is good to see you. And I'm near my tailor, anyway."

Chloe still looks a little offended, but she manages a small smile up at him. "You have your own tailor?"

"Well, suits like these don't come off the rack." He holds his arms out, realizes that he's now blocking the crowd and being a huge hypocrite, and lowers them. "Let's step to the side for a second."

"What? Oh, right," Chloe says, and gets out of the way. Someone shoots them a dirty look as they shuffle through to the side. The--chicken and waffles place...interesting--has a bright, tacky red-and-gold awning that gets them a bit of respite from the shade so they can talk.

Chloe digs through her pockets, pulling out receipts and crumpled-up straw wrappers. After glancing at his face, she says, "I'm just trying to find a napkin or something to get the coffee."

Lucifer looks at the reflection of the two of them in the window. His shirt has a giant brown spot in the middle of it that, while it should come out with dry cleaning, is certainly not going to be helped by old napkins. "I'll buy a new shirt while I'm at the tailor. Hopefully it won't need alterations."

Chloe snorts. "'Alterations.'" Her British accent is abysmal and sounds less like him and more like an offensive impression of a character from a cult classic BBC show. "This place looks like a college haunt, you could probably get a USC T-shirt inside until you get home tonight."

Lucifer shudders. "Ugh. Absolutely not."

"What, you're telling me you don't have any cheap clothes that you hold onto just 'cause they're comfortable?"

"A silk robe is comfortable," he grumbles. "Certainly more comfortable than a T-shirt from--" He looks at the door, squinting against the glare of the sun against the 'restaurant' door. "--Classic Southern Cafe of the West Coast."

"I mean, the name leaves something to be desired, but if a place with a name like that's still open then it can't be all bad."

"Or someone with more money than sense decided to throw their life savings at something they were completely unqualified for. Like that cafe in Boston."

Chloe blinks at him. "The cat cafe?"

"You're familiar!" Lucifer says, delighted. "Maze told me about it, she delights in disasters."

"...she told me, too."

Right.

"Okay, look," Chloe says, and Lucifer braces himself for the worst of it. "I'm really sorry about the way I kicked you out." Oh? "I mean...I just--okay, I'm not jealous."

"I hadn't thought you were?" Lucifer says, unsure if he's about to be insulted or what. He's not letting himself be hopeful about anything, though, suffocating the urge to be optimistic about it before it can say whatever it wants to. If this conversation goes well, he'll be pleasantly surprised, and if not, he won't have lost any of the progress he's made over the course of the past few months.

(The most he's hoping for is that he'll be able to talk to her. He enjoys that, more than he does talking with almost anyone else.)

"I just mean...ugh, okay, Maze and I were a thing, okay? Just briefly, barely a month! We didn't really work like that, but we made good friends, and then she was moving out of her old roommate's place and I needed to move out of my mom's old house and it just worked? And it was just--weird, you having slept with her and me also--fuck, sorry, I'm rambling."

She is, which seems pretty unlike her from Lucifer's previous two times that he'd met her, but it's annoyingly endearing anyway. "It's fine, Detective. Don't stop on my account."

Chloe reaches a hand up to rub the back of her neck. "Right. And I just...don't really casually see people, okay? I mean, Maze was an exception. Not in that way, I'm definitely bisexual, just...yeah. And as much as I liked you, I just don't think I have the room for a relationship right now."

Lucifer's heart definitely doesn't drop down into his stomach at that, not at all. "Of course."

"I would like to hang out, though? As friends?" Chloe says. "If you're alright with--"

"I am," Lucifer says, quickly enough that he accidentally interrupts her. She grins up at him, though, so it's good, it's fine. "I...do have to get to this appointment, I need a suit for work--"

"Yeah, of course, sorry to keep you, and sorry again about the coffee! You were right, too, I don't normally like my coffee black, but it's--not important, go get a new suit."

Lucifer nods and smiles, a little awkward, a little unsure, but generally...happier. It's not even as though he was in a bad mood before, but now he's smiling easier, chattier with his tailor, doesn't mind the stain on one of his nicer shirts that's had some time to set in now and might not wash out as easily as he'd like.

--

Maze has been staring at Lucifer ever since he walked into the bar, wearing a new shirt and a smile. She's been drying the same glass now for almost five minutes, despite how busy it is at the bar and how much Patrick's scrambling to get things done, and it's now just a matter of which one of them will break first: Maze's impatience or Lucifer's love of talking about himself.

Lucifer really does love talking about the things that go well in his life, though, and Maze hasn't even blinked for the last stretch of time. So eventually he heads over with an eyeroll, doesn't miss the victorious smirk on her face, and sits down at the one barstool that's, miraculously, available.

"Spill," Maze says, putting the glass down at last and starting to mix a drink, to Patrick's obvious relief.

"I ran into Chloe," Lucifer says, delighted, and looks to see if Maze will tense up, if she'll show any jealousy that her ex is spending time with him. Decidedly platonic time, but still. He doesn't want a repeat of what happened with Eve. That had been a difficult time for their friendship, and for Lucifer in general, if he's being honest.

She doesn't seem to, not smiling (normal) but nodding in agreement as she looks down at the drink she's pouring. "Cool. Did you go try and find her at the police station or something? Hold up a sign like that dumb movie?"

Lucifer scoffs. "No, of course not, that would have been completely inappropriate, and not in a fun way. Especially given she rejected me." Much as that stings, it's still a novel feeling.

"Good," Maze says, sliding the drink over to a customer who only barely manages to catch it before the glass would've fallen and shattered on the floor and gotten--whatever that drink is, some lurid pink thing, all over her clothes. "So...what? She came to see you at Lux before we opened?"

"No," Lucifer says. "We just ran into each other."

"Jesus, what are the odds," Maze says, grabbing some orange juice from beneath the counter. "You wanna come back here and help out?"

"Of course not," Lucifer says, then walks to the back of the bar to help out anyway. He's not actually good at mixing drinks at all, but he knows where everything is, mostly, grabbing Maze some rum and chopping limes since they're running low. "Are we especially busy today or something? I've never seen the bar this backed up."

"Well, you weren't telling me right away, I had to make a point," Maze says with a quick glare at him. "Apologize to Patrick."

Lucifer doesn't particularly feel like apologizing to Patrick for Maze's behavior, and Patrick seems a bit too busy with pitchers of sangria to do much of anything. There's a lull in their conversation as they get drinks out to the customers as fast as possible without missing any tabs or charges or anything else, but then it slows to something they can talk during.

"Well, I'm glad it worked out, I guess?" Maze says. "Did she, like, rip your shirt off or something? I didn't think Decker had it in her."

"No," Lucifer says. "While I'm not at all opposed, she actually just spilled some coffee--"

Maze laughs. "Holy shit, really? Wow, I didn't realize she was mad at you! I'm normally really good at picking up on anger!"

"It was an accident, Mazikeen, would I be in a good mood if it wasn't?" Lucifer says, annoyed, wiping down the counter with a rag just to get the worst of the condensation and sweat off.

She doesn't respond right away, and when he looks back, she's smiling at him, softer than she normally would. "Hey. I'm glad you're in a good mood about it."

"Okay?" Lucifer says, unused to Maze being nice when she doesn't want something from him. "Why--"

"Which is why I'm gonna tell you right now," Maze interrupts. "That you're my best friend. And that I care about you."

"I--okay? I--"

"And that if you hurt Chloe," Maze says, still smiling, still with that same casual tone. "I will fucking end you. Got that?"

"I haven't even done anything!" Lucifer protests. "Is she getting this same shovel talk? And besides, she's said she's not interested, it's just--friendly."

"Oh," Maze says, relaxing against the counter a little more. "Really? Wouldn't have guessed that. Also...yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, she got the same shovel talk," Maze says with another eyeroll, all trace of her sweet, fake smile gone. "Obviously. You're my best friend."

Lucifer nods, shoulders dropping just a little. It's not that he was worried Maze was picking between him and Chloe, like it's some sort of fight, but it's--nice, to be reassured that she's on his side anyway.

"Also?" Maze says, glare getting worse.

"Also...I care about you too?"

"Thank you!" Maze says in her sweetest, fakest voice of all. "Also, I'm guessing you two didn't exchange numbers again?"

"Shit."

"It's fine, I got you, let me just make sure Chloe's cool with it once I'm home," Maze says. "You're definitely both being stupid as hell, but whatever, at least it'll be fun to watch."

--

At 1:43am, after they've finished closing up and cleaning and getting everything ready for tomorrow, Lucifer checks his phone for the first time in an hour and sees a text from a number he doesn't recognize.

Hey! It's Chloe. Maze gave me your number, she said you said it was okay

If it's not, I'm sorry and I won't text again

And if you're not Lucifer, I'm sorry and please let me know?

Hello, Detective

She doesn't respond, but it's late enough that she's probably asleep, and frankly, after having to actually work tonight, he's about ready to pass out himself. So he does, gets into the most comfortable sheets he's ever head and is unconscious almost as soon as his head hits the pillow. He misses one more text, from a number he hasn't texted in years.

hey! i'm back in town if you want to meet up! let's partyyyy

[musingsofaperpetualdaydreamer]

THIS HAS GONE TOO FAR.

You don’t have to agree with what I’m about to say, you’re allowed to have your own feelings and opinion, this is just my post reflection re-examined take not just as a black fan but as human in general but I hope it gives you a new perspective. I’ve been thinking about this whole situation and wanting to see if there’s something I’m missing because something feels badly wrong and I just can’t shake it. 

I think what genuinely started off as respectful constructive criticism has now become people nitpicking on a whole new level and some people just being flat out hateful. I’m talking DEMONIC level vile and twisting things to fit some messed up agenda they have. To be honest some non black or poc fans seem more upset about this situation than black fans themselves. I feel like this whole thing has now gotten out of hand and taken a lot of focus off the movement that could honestly be a lot better spent.

The class of 2020 video I felt was her just trying to be light hearted and connect with people who yes, many are going through a difficult time, but their graduation was supposed to be a really happy day. She was bullied a lot in school, so graduation must’ve been something she held on to during dark times and looked forward to to give her hope. Then she never got to fulfil the ending she imagined but she celebrated in her own way with her mum who was her rock the whole time in a not so glamorous setting but she was happy. So I think she just wanted to make them feel better and focus on the positives. Which I thought was nice of her. Taylor’s going through her own difficulties also. I didn’t see it as her trying to trivialise what other people may be going through at all. What did you want her to do? I’m pretty sure if she took a focus on the serious issues approach you’d say she’s being too negative or it wouldn’t be right in some other way.

As for the BLM situation, I too wished she’d do more and felt she had so much potential to still do better. I wrote a whole rambly post explaining my feelings. Here’s my original post for reference: https://musingsofaperpetualdaydreamer.tumblr.com/post/620145959803961344/maybe-i-am-stupid-for-feeling-this-hurt-and-its

After taking some time to think about it, I’ve come to some realisations that have given me a new perspective. Do I think that Taylor could still do better? Yes she has lots of potential to improve. But what is better? Who gets to decide what level of better is enough? What I’ve come to realise is though I think a lot of people are genuinely coming from a place of love, we’re holding Taylor to an unfair standard. Before you get all outraged just hear me out.

Like I said in my original post I think most of us feel this is odd and confusing for the same reasons. In any case, I think our special bond with her is the major part of why we’re holding her to this high standard. The fan/celebrity dynamic can be incredibly toxic for both parties. She’s grateful for her fans and goes above and beyond the norm to really make us all feel special and loved, like we’re friends almost. But the truth is, fan love can be very toxic and in reality she’ll never be able to love us back the way we love her or want her to. Not because she doesn’t care enough to but the very nature of our relationship makes it impossible to do so because this relationship is an unnatural one.

Essentially she is one human who is and or does something we like (ie. make music), that we often also attach our own super meaningful significances and emotion to. So it’s more than just what they are/do it’s also what that means to us. We are over a million individual STRANGERS who obsess and sort of stalk her in a socially acceptable way (for the most part) and we love her and believe we’re special to her because she approves and acknowledges and interacts with us as a collective group through posts online and during in person events. But because we also feel that we love her in our own unique way as individuals distinct from the group and have our own ‘love story’ with her, we believe we all have a unique special bond with her. Logically we know we are just a stranger but emotionally I guess deep down we crave that love being reciprocated as an individual. We don’t just want to be loved as a collective, we want to be special to her, we want to let her know how much we love her and have her listen to our thoughts/feelings and essentially feel like her friend and for us to tell us personally she loves and appreciates us back or to praise or validate our displays of love in some way.

Without meaning to we can often put her on a pedestal. She is our perfect idol, queen of whatever safe haven we’ve created in ‘her magical world’ we escape to. We love and defend her. In some cases it almost becomes like borderline worship. We would do anything for her or anything to feel close to her no matter how humiliating or whatever the cost, because it’s for her she is our everything and no one could understand your love, they just don’t get it. Who cares if you look crazy, love is crazy right? We obsessively learn facts about her as a way to feel closer. Or save up for ages just to buy objects she sells or pay to be in her presence for an hour or two. Those who get to meet her report back to the group details which would be viewed as incredibly creepy outside the context of fan/celebrity, like what does she smell like, how long you remember her holding your hand for in seconds, the instant you saw her you fell on the floor overcome with emotion and ugly cried, despite this being your first time ever meeting her, so you are again likely a literal stranger to her, you profess your love and proceed to tell her your deepest darkest and most intimate thoughts, feelings, life traumas and secrets and want her to be completely chill and loving and instantly say something beautiful and profound in response to treasure forever. The group fawn over you when you return, you become a chosen one, the chosen elite are specially selected and invited to her home (the HIGHEST honour) where she shares her work with you before anyone, you then have a secret to keep because she trusts you and loves you.

Human beings cannot form deep intimate friendships with over a million people. It’s just not possible. She will never be our friend friend, but the closest thing we have is her momentarily acknowledging our existence. We know this and so it becomes a competition for her attention. This kind of one sided love and weird relationship dynamic, allows us to more easily tap into the darker sometimes more destructive sides of love; obsession, jealousy, rage, neediness, possessiveness. I’m not saying this to make fun of anyone (trust me, I have humiliated myself in ways as fangirl especially as a teen that continue to haunt me to this day), I just wanted to give you a very literal description of our relationship with her so you’ll understand my point that our relationship is unnatural.

We would say we love Taylor like a friend, but when you’re a fan you don’t really. Not because you don’t know enough about her or she doesn’t talk to you enough but for the very nature of what I explained above, she may mean something to us but to her we are literally strangers. Besides, imagine a good friend of yours right now, imagine doing everything you do for Taylor for your friend. Put pictures of them all over your bedroom wall, frame a tissue they touched, make web pages dedicated to them, wearing clothing with their face on it. Yeah, there’s a high chance they’d get a restraining order against you.

From Taylor’s perspective it must be incredibly strange. She’s said she often feels like she’s in a fish bowl. Well what we essentially do is all smoosh our faces against the glass and repeatedly tap it to get the attention of the pretty fish (Taylor). Every time it comes out of the little castle in the bowl, the frenzy begins. Could you imagine what it must feel like to be her? All that attention? All those people pinning all their expectations hopes and dreams on you. Thousands of people making you their sanctuary and safety comforter so if you did something to loose them their worlds would come crashing down. That’s an insane amount of pressure. It must be genuinely terrifying. 

Taylor said she struggles with wanting to keep everybody happy and giving too much of herself to do so, she’s a perfectionist and hates letting people down or she beats herself up about it. I know she loves what she does, but at the same time it must be so exhausting and really drain you. She must read lots of really happy & silly posts, but then some might be people sharing really emotional things about a very difficult and dark time they’re going through, though we mean well when we share it, it must be really hard knowing that you can’t help them. I don’t even want to imagine the vile hate that she reads, because imagine how one hate comment makes us feel but she gets hundreds and sometimes it’s on magazines at the store so it follows her everywhere. She can’t even go outside to do regular human things without the risk of getting mobbed or just knowing everyone’s staring at her and watching her every move. Look how we all hate being trapped at home because everywhere we go outside is dangerous due to COVID-19. It’s a huge amount to take in and process emotionally.

Sometimes I think she research’s people before she meets them, not just because she cares, but for her own sanity and to make it less strange. So the interaction can be more normal. She seems to really like reading people just talking about their ordinary life, day to day things because her life is far from normal. But she meets us like a conveyer belt, people that she makes a connection with and then they get taken away and she’ll never get to meet them again. When she wants to see someone again, people get upset because why aren’t they getting a chance to get picked or that person had already met her, but they don’t think about how Taylor feels because maybe she likes that person and wants to talk to them again. We think her life is incredibly privileged and yes she’s incredibly smart and knows how to handle her career but in reality in a lot of ways it must be so maddening, sad and lonely because human beings were not designed to live this way. “And they tell you that you’re lucky but you’re so confused, ‘cause you don’t feel pretty you just feel used.”

It’s okay to be a fan of someone or look up to them or connect and find meaning with them and their work. As long as it’s done in a healthy way. We need to really work on that or we’re really going to hurt her more than we have. For Taylor to live the life she does, you have to develop really thick skin or turn to things to just numb everything, I see how celebrities end up with addiction problems or suddenly acting out because they can’t cope anymore. You have to learn to shut it out to survive. We made her our comfort blanket that we’d find it hard to live without. So we want her to behave in a way that we approve, not just because we want her to be her best self but also because we struggle to think how we’d cope without her. But we have to remember she’s human just like us. She’s going to make mistakes, not always be her best self, have bad days. Just because she might have more money or more people that know her doesn’t make her magically stop being human. She goes through life like everyone else. It’s healthy to give her constructive criticism but we have to watch the tone in which we say things. I’m not saying we baby her but we have to remember unnatural dynamic we have. It’s not just a few posts, it ends up being thunderously loud because it’s thousands or more than a million people saying the same thing. Social media makes you forget you’re talking to a human being because you can’t see their face or their reaction to how your words are impacting them. Sometimes you can’t shut it out and to her it must feel like a million people are suddenly very angry or disappointed with you and are going to take their love away. Because I guess in a way she becomes attached to us also. You don’t stop caring no matter what people say, you’re human. Remember how it feels when one person you love is disappointed or angry with you. Now amplify that. Mentally that’s...wow. I feel so so bad for her because I honestly don’t know how she copes and does this so well. This could all really send someone over the edge and we’ve seen it happen. We’ve gotten a tiny glimpse into how badly it can affect her. I’m glad she has an amazing family, Joe and true friends who are there for her but God only how she copes behind closed doors.

This fandom sometimes reaches an ugly level of entitlement because the truth is she has spoiled us. We expect things that we shouldn’t expect because she gives us more attention and puts more effort into making all of us feel special than we deserve. I can’t believe after everything she’s ever done, people would think it was all a lie. Mess up one time and everything you did was fake? People who are fake mess up, especially when things aren’t going their way or to plan and they snap and reveal what they’re really like. She’s been through so many trials time and time again and proven her character. Come on, we know who she is. Like all humans she might not be perfect but she is truly good person and she has a good heart and a pure beautiful soul. She’d have to be an insanely good actress and dedicate a huge amount of time to planning all of these lies. You guys have met her, you’ve seen how good she is at connecting with people instantly. She’s warm and loving and even the cats love her as much as she loves them. For someone who has so much money, she seems to enjoy the simple things in life the most and making everyone happy and she’s so humble. I think a lot of that is also in part to the people around her who keep her grounded. 

Anyhow, that black and white thinking of you are either all good or you’re all bad, is so immature and dangerous, because people are more complicated than that because we’re not simply one thing. Which one of us is a perfect person that has never made a mistake or let people down? Ever made a resolution that you stuck to or you needed more time to work on, or were just unsure how to begin or feel overwhelmed? Exactly. I know a lot of us came from a place of love, we don’t hate her at all we just wanted her to do better. And we’ve come up with all kinds of conspiracies of why she doesn’t want to post more because we feel that this doesn’t match the Taylor that we know in our hearts that she is. 

We need to stop judging and shaming each other. Virtue signalling for the sake of looking woke and outrage culture needs to end because it honestly does more harm than good. I’ve seen it become like dangerous mob behaviour and people get hurt. We all learn at our own pace and handle things in our own way and prefer helping in our own preferred ways. Don’t always assume the worst about people. Like I said, social media isn’t the be all and end of everything. Just because you don’t post about it doesn’t mean you don’t care. You could be doing lots of things offline to help that could be really impactful. Often times these can have huge meaningful long term impact, because we literally don’t live inside the internet. Humans connecting with each other in the real world as nature intended us to be is actually super important. I think a lot of problems could be resolved by people logging off the internet and talking to each other in person; people say things behind a screen that they wouldn’t in real life or may regret because it’s easier to not access empathy and not view the person you’re talking to as human this way. It’s good to take your own time to properly think about things before you just open your mouth. Besides everyone starts somewhere. 

There’s lots of really graphic stuff online at the moment and even I had to take a break. Someone not being black doesn’t mean they don’t need to care for their mental health or don’t get affected. The virus has been really hard on a lot of us in many ways, it can infect anyone and honestly all the panic and doom and uncertainty starts to really get to you after a while and sometime’s you just have to disconnect. Her mother is very vulnerable and Taylor is a human with feelings. You have to fill up your own cup before you can pour into other people’s. We need to be kinder to each other, you never know what someone is going through or what their circumstances are. It might not always be safe for someone to speak out publicly, it’s often more complicated than we think. We know white supremacist groups have made Taylor a focus before, maybe her recent activity could make her a target and put her in a lot danger. I pray not and that she and everyone she loves is safe. 

We have to remember to try and have empathy for her and not look at her as just Taylor with the huge fan base, but Taylor the human being. We all have our flaws. Her mother is really gravely ill. I know lots of you will be like so? that’s not an excuse. But I think we all need to examine who we’ve allowed ourselves to become because that’s such a gross attitude and we’re not being fair with her. Her mum is her best friend and the most important person who comforts her and is her source of security and stability. She means so much to her, she’s her mum. We too should care about her mum because she’s been such an angel to us as fans and is a pure bright light in this world. Remember soon you’ll get better? That broke my heart. God only knows how Taylor is coping with all of that, the scrutiny of fame, the pandemic and whatever threats she could have received. If you’ve ever had someone you love go through something like this, you know how hard it can be, how helpless you can feel and how your head might not always be in the right space. Every second with them is precious because things genuinely change in an instant and you could suddenly lose them. Imagine your own darkest moment. Maybe given her circumstances that’s the best she can do right now. It’s not our place to judge her. 

Why can’t she get her team to simply post for her? I imagine she’d rather do it and select things herself given the sensitive important nature of this cause (it’s not like merch promo) or else we’d then start to question everything else. She would make headlines for anything she did. It would draw attention to her and could put her family in more danger. Remember how her dad was so afraid for her? Well I don’t think any added stress is what her family needs with her sick mother in the midst of a global pandemic. When does Taylor get a break from everyone and just get a second to look after herself? We can wish but we cannot demand that she come and explain to console us. We are not her responsibility. 

I’ve noticed she’s been different the past few months. She doesn’t look like herself in the pictures she’s posted, she just looks blank and this whole situation has felt very off and I’ve really worried something was wrong. Watching that class 2020 video Idk you might think I’m crazy but it genuinely sounded like she was holding in tears and she looked sad. Like she was somewhere else when she was talking but forcing herself to look happy. Just because she may look like she’s holding it together doesn’t mean she actually is. My heart is broken for her and I pray for her and her loved ones. Go back and watch it yourself. 

We all need to really reflect and deeply think about how our actions can affect others and take a long hard look at the people we have become and ask ourselves if this is who we really want to be, myself included. You can still have your own feelings and opinions on this situation but I really hope this helps you see a new perspective. We have to remember there are multiple injustices and hardships going on all over the world at once. We need to check our pride and our egos and humble ourselves. Be less judgmental and more empathetic. Everyone is fighting a battle you know nothing about. Be kind. 

Taylor if you’re reading this (I know the chances are teensy), I’m genuinely so sorry. I hope you and your loved ones are safe and well. I love you so so much and I’ll keep you and your family in my prayers 💖

[grandpeanutchild]

cheese fries restaurant

In France, steak frites, which translates "steak and fries" in English, may be a prolific dish throughout the country's brasseries. cheese fries restaurant While the sort of steak and sauce utilized in the preparation has changed over time and between countries, the quintessential French fry is an everlasting factor.  

BUT WHY THE POPULARITY

So why are french-fried potatoes so popular? Certainly there are other side dishes that might pair well with a protein. While speculative, it's believed that french-fried potatoes first gained a following in Europe, popularized by dishes including the aforementioned steak frites and moules-frites. Subsequently, french-fried potatoes became fashionable American soldiers stationed overseas during war I. once they returned home, they sought their new favorite snack to no avail. At this point , however, America was witnessing the renaissance of the fashionable nutriment restaurant. Inexpensive to organize and with an already established clientele, White Castle began offering french-fried potatoes with their hamburgers. The rest, as they assert , is history.

The French fry's meteoric rise from a humble fish-substitute to the world's quintessential culinary accompaniment has been an extended time within the making. Thus, we encourage you to celebrate (and, of course, eat) the world's greatest and most venerated entremots .The Quora recipe took 3 days but mostly zero effort. The post was short on details, so I invented them as I went by . the primary thing I noticed was that they discolored while drying within the fridge. After frying, they recolored themselves but appeared to be the smallest amount crispy, and thus , most disappointing of the bunch. As I ate more and more of them however, it ended up that that they had the simplest , most potatoey flavor and satisfying crisp (as against the boom-in-your-face crunch of the opposite two). I felt like I could eat endless amounts of those guys, which made them the winner for meKenji’s fries take 2 days and are specified to be shoestring sized, so I followed his recipe to a tee. His came out more intact than Heston’s but still broken, I’m unsure how he managed to avoid the broken ones on a high heat boil, but i think that’s why his lead photo is merely of 12 intact french-fried potatoes . within the end, the recipe was about twice as involved as Heston’s, with vinegar and agitation needed, but looked and tasted better with more intact fries (marginally more intact).

The easiest thanks to make homemade french-fried potatoes - www.iamafoodblog.com Random Quora Dude’s Method

The Quora recipe took 3 days but mostly zero effort. The post was short on details, so I invented them as I went by . the primary thing I noticed was that they discolored while drying within the fridge. After frying, they recolored themselves but appeared to be the smallest amount crispy, and thus , most disappointing of the bunch. As I ate more and more of them however, it ended up that that they had the simplest , most potatoey flavor and satisfying crisp (as against the boom-in-your-face crunch of the opposite two). I felt like I could eat endless amounts of those guys, which made them the winner on behalf of me .

Thinking that I could optimize on this recipe, i attempted condensing the method into one long day. By 10pm that night, I ended up with soggy fries that couldn’t hold a candle to their 3 day brethren. Something magical seems to happen on the third day.

Was this easier than simply throwing some Ore-Ida or McCains fries within the oven? No, but it had been far, much more satisfying, and I’m guessing either (or both) Steph or i will be able to be improving this recipe as time goes by, until at some point we’ll just effortlessly be ready to throw together a simple batch of french-fried potatoes which will rival the simplest french restaurants, or McDonalds.

Do you guys have an honest french fry recipe? I’m all ears.

Potato love -Mike

The easiest thanks to make homemade french-fried potatoes - www.iamafoodblog.com

HOW TO MAKE french-fried potatoes reception 1 POTATO PER PERSONPREP TIME: 3 DAYSCOOK TIME: 3 MINUTESTOTAL TIME: 3 DAYS and three MINUTES Large russet potatoes, dig 1/4″ shoestrings Oil for frying Salt

Soak your potatoes for 30 mins to 1hr. Blot dry with a towel and arrange on rack. Dry in refrigerator overnight.

The next day, heat your oil to 375°F. Ensure your potatoes are completely dry (dry with paper towels if needed). Fry your potatoes for exactly 1 minute. Drain and place back on rack, and dry in fridge overnight.

On the ultimate day, heat your oil copy to 375°F. Blot dry any excess oil on your potatoes with a towel , then fry for exactly two minutes. Drain on a rack, salt immediately, and luxuriate in as soon as possible.

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5 COMMENTS Peppermint Dolly says: June 8, 2017 at 12:44 am I don’t know if it’d be a weekly occurrence with such a lot prep involved, but still, I’m intrigued to offer it a go!!

Rebecca xx http://www.peppermintdolly.com

Reply Rachael @Rachael's Foodie Life says: June 8, 2017 at 1:49 am It seems like you're making my dreams come true. I even have had numerous fakes attempts at french-fried potatoes reception that I had given up hope. But I can’t wait to undertake these!!

Reply irene says: June 8, 2017 at 6:49 am This is very informative. Are the potatoes soaked in warm or cold water for the 30 -1hr period? How are they dried overnight within the refridgerator, in an open plastic container or left open?

Reply Ruby says: June 10, 2017 at 8:30 pm oh no – the very easiest method (and delicious too) is that the America’s Test Kitchen way of putting shoestrings in room temp oil and bringing it up to boil on high heat. It never sputters or spits and you simply stir them once. Hey presto – perfect fries

Reply gary says: June 11, 2017 at 8:34 pm These make me insane they're so good (use peanut oil), we make them once every week probably: https://smittenkitchen.com/2017/03/easiest-french-fries/

In addition to being the simplest fries ever to return out of my kitchen, included triple fried,etc., they're far and away the simplest . I even have been telling everyone i do know to form these!

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[ih8paris]

i hate paris

Do people still use tumblr? I’m so old. And I never used it. I don’t keep up with the times. I don’t give a shit. You know what? It all passes. Except facebook. They made a deal with the devil and really, was it worth it? I use facebook. I live in Paris and there are these groups for women, expats, cheap people like me that want free yoga. That’s what I use it for. And news. BBC CNN ABC NBC MSNBC, you get it and the posts. They report what the people supposedly want, but then we can see what the people are actually saying. Donald Trump won’t win? Look at voices talking? Look at the little people. It looked like he was going to win. What do you know, he did. But what if he had lost. What if Hilary didn’t get a handle on COVID and then Donald won in 2020? We would all be so fucked right now. Maybe we already are. Anyway, I’m not here to talk politics. I’m here to process my life choices and see if there were signs that I was making HUGE mistake. 

So here’s the thing. I’m a bit untraditional. Growing up was shit. Chuck left and made sure to shit all over everything before he did. And the whole get married in your 20′s have babies get divorced get remarried have more kids bc hey you’re not old at 30 and this is the guy you actually wanted to have kids with. I rant but you get it. Traditional not for me. Also not traditional, i have some money. This money has paid for college, pastry school and yes this wonderful covid filled experience in paris: the city that hates me. I’m fortunate. I don’t live lavishly. It’s not that much money. I grew up poor, I pinch pennies. Then i do exciting things. Or maybe challenging things? I am fortunate and grateful. And guilt filled. I am given this gift and shit it away, trying make something out of this paris experience. It’s like a bad relationship where i keep begging to give it one more change. It will get better. I’m a fucking idiot. So here I am, you know third times the charm, right? Back in paris. Vaccinated. I’ve made connections with people. I feel confident that this will not be a waste. It will be fun. It will be educational. I will network. Gain experiences. Omg learn so much. Be able to travel. OH the hopes and delusions i had. But maybe we should start from the beginning. 

Omg, which beginning. Paris, i guess, we can go back further when the moment calls. So 30 is approaching. I’ve moved back home. That’s story for another time. Remember my life is not traditional. So I’m home to help out and idk try to figure out what the fuck i want to do with my life. See the big mistake i made in my 20s was listening to people i don’t admire. i graduate with an art degree. my college exit interview said i am qualified to work at a bank or Kraft foods. no connects, recommendations. No direct. And my family keeps talking about getting a job, benefits, 401k. At one point a little later on, my grandpa was pushing for me to go into service. Sorry gramps, they don’t want me. My education was good. I learned a lot. They had good resources and a lot. But then nothings. So i worked at a bakery. I worked hard at this bakery. For more than a few months i worked 7 days a week. I didn’t have a life. i had money. Money i made. And apparently that was the most important thing, from the talks i keep getting from my family. And of course i wasn’t earning enough, so needed to work harder and climb the ladder. There is no ladder in a bakery. Whatever, I rant again. We’ll come back to this. 

So 30. It’s looming. I’ve thought about grad school. The money I mentioned earlier. It’s had time to grow. The GRE expires after 5 years, not that i took it but 7 years after I graduated, i wasn’t taking it. So Europe. Europe is artsy. I would like to make good money, enjoy the work okay, but mostly make good money with the least amount of actual work. So teaching. My mom teaches. Computer programing. She’s the head of the department. She fucking hates it. The dude that was suppose to get that job, he died. It was sad. But they also didn’t replace him so when the other guy retired, it became her job. It was an unpleasant 10ish years. But again, I digress. So teaching. Work hard and play hard. And it’s always changing - ish. I guess as much as you want, or don’t. New students every 15 weeks. breaks at all the holidays. Summers off. And when you’re just about to get bored, you’re back at work. Maybe because this is the only lifestyle i know, but it doesn’t sound bad. I worked in an office of women in high school. That i for sure knew i never wanted. But teaching. College. Okay. I need a masters. Learn about MA and MFA. Start looking for jobs in Cali because life’s too short to fucking deal with the snow and mosquitos. Idk everyone doesn’t live in Cali. So now the plan is MFA. They are much more rare and more in demand at universities. More money - but this time i think chasing the money necessary bc Calif = expensive. Now back to looking in Europe. I love Italy. I would love to live in in Italy for more that just a semester but actually live Italian or close to it. The language makes sense. The people make sense. The art makes sense. And it’s omg gorgeous. Alas, no American accredited MFA programs I could qualify for in Italy. I don’t know if there were none but if there were, they would have been in textiles, or digital/graphic design. Which I don’t know anything about. I’m old school, metal work, drawing, printmaking - although so far we haven’t gotten along, another thing i going to try to make work before i leave this city that hates me, for good - painting, ceramics, you get it. I hate computers. I appreciate technology but my mom teaches computers therefore there was never a working computer in my house so we (my brothers and me) don’t do computers. So i find this school - in english and in Paris. Paris, so glamorous. Home of famous artists and their art. The Louvre and Eiffel Tower and Fashion. So okay, i check out their programs. One i have no fucking clue what it is. Still don’t. Another is Photography - pass. Graphics - no. List continues. Then i see Drawing. That’s interesting. I can draw, i draw well. This is a program i could probably get into. SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT: you can get into any program. No program is ever full. It’s bull shit. Masters program. Undergrad = everyone is applying at the same time. Masters = ages range and much fewer people go. So don’t fall for that shit - EVER. 

They have a one year and two year program. The second year is less than half the first year so makes sense to go the second year and get the MFA vs MA. So that works out. I’m reading and checking it out. Not sure what I’m looking for but in hindsight, i knew something was missing. Talk it over with my mom and her peers who are also teachers. Consensus - don’t be part of the first group. So i have an interview to get it - what a joke. It is also a time for me to learn more about the program. So i ask, is this new? How long has it been around. Answer: Oh no, it’s been working several years. Very confident. I didn’t have a follow-up, just said I don’t want to be in the first group. I said those words. Her response: Oh no no don’t worry. I was so naive. And yes this continued through the whole program. People’s personalities are what they are. So she lied to get me into the program and just kept lying. No respect for the insane about of money i was paying for this ‘experience’. No respect for the education i could have gotten somewhere else. Because this program had NO educational value. I’m not being bitter or dramatic. It was a complete waste of time and money. Then covid happened. Might have been a blessing in disguise. I can go into detail of the program later. This is just an overview of the beginning. 

So, I get accepted. What a surprise. I’m now officially 30 and this - i feel- is my last hoorah. After this i will be an adult who can get an adult job and become an adult. But first i need housing. And a visa. Which is very confusing. So the French and Italians - Italians I am familiar  with, tell you about it later. So they’re similar in that lazy, lack of thoroughness, that’s their thing. Difference being Italians own it, French hardcore deny. So I’m reading this paperwork and it says thing like you need to have all your documents before your visa appointment including plane ticket. Well I can’t go without the visa so why would i get a plane ticket? Cart before the horse shit - it’s very french, wait until you hear about banks.  

[kronecker-delta]

Farscape Nier crossover and ideas

Snippet (from 2017) Farscape/Nier: Automata --- Her room was a mess. Scattered parts of her uniform and other clothes piled along along the sides, kicked there when she came and went. Her personal books disarrayed, off the shelf and toppled over by her bed. She'd been putting off cleaning again and with the recent arrivals none of the operators could be spared to make up for her bad habits. None of that mattered at the moment. White sat in her chair, staring out into the void. A souvenir of her old days in the ground based resistance held in her hands. The framed picture of pair of androids seated on the still smoldering bulk of the ruined machine behemoth a memory of a simpler, happier time. A knock on her door brought her attention away from melancholy remembrance. Before she could compose herself and more sternly tell whoever had interrupted her what she had meant by 'Only bother me if there's an emergency' another knock issued forth. Followed by a voice. "Hey White? You in there?" She froze. She had so desperately hoped that it wouldn't be him. *** "I've never been here before," White said apologetically as their transport ship came down beside the small lunar outpost. A tiny thing, compared to the bunker. Even given the greater volume underground for secured data storage and backup generators. "No problem. First time I've been on the moon," he said, giving her a reassuring smile that didn't quite manage to look entirely honest. His frown returning as they stepped out of the transport, the boots of his pressured suit crunching into the light dusting of lunar sand that had covered part of the landing pad. "Feels like I should say something... 'Great leap for mankind and all that' you know. Hey, is the Apollo site still around?" "It is. If you want we could visit there Commander Crichton." "Just John... or Crichton. Being called Commander all the time feels weird," John Crichton said. "I know I'm the last human but..." "I-I understand," White answered. Keeping her own emotions deeply locked down as they passed into the fortified complex of the moon server. Past the scant few technicians and guards and into a dark room, nearly empty save for a single console located in the center. A black void engulfed the walls, impenetrable shadows, as the terminals and screens had long laid dormant. "So now what?" His voice echoed in the room, which must have been far larger than they had at first thought. Low clicks and whirs came from the bulk of the machine, the long slumbering physical access port awakening. Lights flashed along the walls and beyond them, racks upon racks of computer systems networked together awakening. A great screen before them coming on and displaying a stylized picture of a tree, long dark roots stretching out from its base. OVERSIGHT AND RECORDING SYSTEM VER. 2.01 SLEEPING BEAUTY ONLINE. CONFIRM USER PERMISSIONS NOW. "Commander White, YoRHa access S-Class security," White said. Looking to her side and adding, "As well as a guest." CONFIRM GUEST'S IDENTITY. "John Crichton, Commander in the IASA," John said. "Born... 1969. June 6th. If that helps any." The computer sat in silence for a long moment, not responding, the screen frozen as the loading bar seemed stuck in time. They shared a look of confusion, both android and human wondering if the ancient archive might have crashed and who was going to have to go out and ask the few technicians to help reboot it. Then the room came alight, a dozen more monitors online, the totality of it awake for the first time in forever. HUMAN IDENTITY CONFIRMED BASED ON HISTORICAL RECORDS. YoRHA S-CLASS SECURITY CLEARANCE SUBSTITUTED FOR UNRESTRICTED SYSTEM ACCESS. S-CLASS, SS-CLASS, AND HAMELIN ORGANIZATION FILES NOW UNLOCKED. GREETINGS COMMANDER JOHN CRICHTON. HOW MAY THIS SYSTEM AID YOU TODAY? "What... what's 'SS-Class?' There shouldn't be a level of security above mine." NEGATIVE. THERE ARE TWO. SS-CLASS, CONTAINING SENSITIVE FILES DEEMED TOO DANGEROUS TO BE KNOWN OUTSIDE OF THE ADMINISTRATIVE COUNCIL. AS WELL AS FILES REGARDING THE HAMELIN ORGANIZATION, WHICH WERE TO BE SEALED UNTIL SUCH A TIME AS A HUMAN USER ACCESSED THIS SYSTEM. "We do this so that the future generations will have the opportunity to judge us for our sins." "Who the hell was that?" John asked, shocked by the computer suddenly vocalizing. Producing the sound of some long dead man. Old and ill, his voice straining to make the words clear into the recording. DR. EUGENE ADLER, HAMELIN RESEARCHER IN DEMONIC ELEMENT MANIPULATION EXPERIMENTS. BY HIS RECOMMENDATION AND THE UN SPECIAL SECURITY COUNCIL'S AUTHORITY IT WAS FELT THAT KNOWLEDGE OF THE HAMELIN ORGANIZATION'S INVESTIGATIONS INTO THE DEMONIC ELEMENT AND THE 6-12 INCIDENT COULD NOT BE PUBLICLY REVEALED UNTIL THE CRISIS HAD PASSED. John looked to White, hoping she might be able to explain something, anything of what the computer had just told them. But she looked just as confused as he did. "Ah... Computer?" YES JOHN CRICHTON? "Define 'demonic element' please." DEMONIC ELEMENT: QUANTUM OBSERVATION REACTING PARTICLES BROUGHT OVER BY THE ENTITIES INVOLVED IN THE 6-12 INCIDENT. TWO VARIETIES WERE DETERMINED UPON FURTHER RESEARCH. TYPE I, WHICH CAME FROM THE ENTITY CLASSIFIED 'QUEEN OF THE GROTESQUE' AMONG NUMEROUS OTHER NAMES ACQUIRED FROM OBSERVATION DATA OF LEGION FORCES AND PRE-SUBLIMATION MEMETIC CORRUPTION OF WHITE CHLORINATION SYNDROME PATIENTS. TYPE I MATERIAL HAS BEEN REMOVED FROM THIS UNIVERSE FOR THE LAST EIGHT THOUSAND YEARS FOLLOWING THE COMPLETE PURGING OF IT FROM THE EARTH'S ENVIRONMENT. TYPE II CAME FROM THE OTHER ENTITY, CLASSIFIED AS 'A DRAGON' NO OTHER NAME OR IDENTITY DETERMINED. WHILE HIGHLY REACTIVE AND DANGEROUS IN LARGE DOSES IT WAS FOUND TO BE STABLE IN SMALL AMOUNTS AND TO LACK THE MALEVOLENT EFFECT ON INTELLIGENT LIFE THAT TYPE I MATERIAL EXHIBITED. EVENTUAL CONTROLLED EXPOSURE AND SYNTHESIS EXPERIMENTS LED TO THE CREATION OF FOCUSED MAGIC ENERGY EFFECTS AND SUBSEQUENT DEVELOPMENTS IN FIELDS OF NEUROLOGY AND META-COGNITION AS WELL AS NUMEROUS OTHERS. PROJECT GESTALT AND ANDROID CONSCIOUSNESS ARE BOTH LONG TERM SUCCESSES OF THIS RESEARCH. HIGH ENERGY MAGIC WEAPONS WERE ALSO ATTEMPTED BUT LATER SHELVED FOR BEING UNRELIABLE. AS OF THIS DATE THE AMOUNT OF TYPE II MATERIAL PRESENT IN THIS UNIVERSE IS ESTIMATED TO BE 63 METRIC TONS, OVER A HUNDRED FOLD INCREASE IN MASS FROM THAT OF THE ORIGINAL ENTITY BROUGHT ABOUT BY CONTINUAL SYNTHESIS AND ITS NECESSITY IN THE CREATION OF NEW ANDROIDS AND ALL CURRENT GENERATION MAGICAL DEVICES. THE ANDROID WHITE HAS 6 GRAMS OF IT AS PART OF THEIR INTERNAL SYSTEMS, MOSTLY RELEGATED TO META-COGNITIVE PROCESSES. "Wait... wait!" John yelled out, grabbing onto the unused console as he stared at the enormous amount of text that had just been displayed. More and more appearing on other monitors, going into greater detail about all sorts of absurd things. "What do you mean by magic? And dragons? What the hell happened to Earth?" THE 6-12 INCIDENT. PLAYING ARCHIVED DATA NOW... *** Crichton sat on the edge of her bed. Looking down at his hands, fingers intertwined. He hadn't spoken since White had stepped aside and ushered him in. Neither had she. She had wanted to be alone, and had hoped that Crichton would choose to spend some time with his alien friends. Or his semi-human lover... "You know, it's kind of funny," he said at last, a low chuckle that surprised White. He truly did sound amused by the dark comedy of his situation. "What?" "Well, when I first realized you were lying about something... after I got over the whole 'android' deal anyway," Crichton said, looking up from his hands to look into White's eyes. "I was so certain that the deep dark secret you were keeping from me was that you all went Terminator on the humans and than got ashamed about it." White found herself smiling despite it all. "I guess I can imagine why you would think that. Even if we don't all look like Central European bodybuilders from the Old World." His expression collapsed, going from amusement to a shock so profound it looked like a stiff breeze would have knocked him over. White found herself confused and then very worried. Had she said something wrong? Then he started to laugh, slow at first, but building into something that bordered on mania. Rolling onto his back and shaking in the hysterics. "Haha... oh god... you have no idea, no goddamn idea how long I've wanted someone to get one of my dumb references," Crichton sat up looking far happier than he had a moment ago, the levity of their absurd connection dispelling the melancholy cloud that had hung over them since their return from the lunar server. "Like I love those idiots on Moya, but being around aliens on the other side of the galaxy for a few years really makes you long for some normal human conversation." "I... I think I can understand. Somewhat. It must have been very lonely out there." "Lonely, terrifying, insane... beautiful too. Space is crazy like that. Full of contrasts so sharp it's stunning. I-I wanted to bring that back you know? Not just to get home, but to show what I had found out there," he said, pointing to the stars outside White's window. "I guess it's too late for that now." "I'm sorry," White said. Noting the strange look that Crichton was giving her now she hesitated before continuing. "I'm sorry we failed." "Failed? Failed at what? Stopping a magic apocalypse that had already started before the first androids came online? Which reminds me, we're going to need to do something about them later. Those twin models that someone had the bright idea to shoulder with some fucked up version of android collective punishment." Crichton leaned forward, massaging his forehead as he did so. "That's probably only the tip of the bullshit you're dealing with and here I come with a whole new mess of problems. Maybe it would have been better if I had never found Earth." "No! Crichton you-we can fix things. I know we can. Not just your presence here or for getting access to sealed archives in the server. The technology you brought with you. It very well might represent a turning point in the war with the machines." "And what about the Sebaceans... the Peacekeepers? The Scarren Empire? Or hell, even the Nebari Establishment? Better gravity control systems and two hundred year old ship scale energy shields won't stop a fleet if it comes knocking at our door." "We'll do what we always have. Try and protect Earth and mankind's legacy from any aggressor. Whether distant cousins that no longer remember their home-world like the Sebaceans... or these Scarrens you've mentioned so much. We won't- we cannot retreat from this fight. Not now." White clenched her fist tightly, the glove creaking as she set a firm expression on her face. "I promise you Crichton, even if the past is lost, we will make a future worth fighting for." Ideas: I've been thinking over the ideas of a Farscape/Nier crossover some more, coming up with elements, themes, and specific scenes that would be fun to explore and write. These are some of the ideas I've had in no particular order. 1. Androids in relation to the Last Human (Crichton). Crichton is a self-admitted sci-fi geek, not surprising for a second generation astronaut that grew up wanting to explore the stars. He straight up makes comparisons to how he attempts to handle alien encounters to be inspired from watching Star Trek. Given that I think his relation to the androids would develop in a certain direction. Once the initial shock of a) the amount of time passed and b) that these people he thought were human aren't passes, he wouldn't feel comfortable having an intelligent race acting subordinate to him. I can see multiple incidents where some variety of complex philosophical quandary or just plain relationship question from 6O results in him telling them that humans really didn't have a better answer. Long term this would likely take the form of a very serious conversation where he points out that Earth, and what of its culture and history still lives, isn't in just human, whether the dead ones or genetically altered human descended Sebaceans. Or even in any hypothetical offspring that he might have. Basically, 'Mankind' includes them, as they're what's keeping the memory of it all alive. Aside from some bonding scenes between various androids and Crichton as they go over bits of alien tech, one idea I have in particular is that he takes a tour of moon landing sites, including the one his father visited. Effectively the only place he will ever see any lasting evidence of that man in particular. And the reaction of his android guide (White perhaps?) as well as the Apollo 11 plaque cements his decision to change the way the androids view their relation with humans, at least in so much as he can. 2. 2B and 9S (and others perhaps). I think there's a lot of fun to be had in placing the androids into weird situations with the aliens, and even more so if for some reason they have to head off away from Earth for a period of time. Since I can easily see the plan being for them to lie constantly. Lie about being human, lie about the 'Glorious Terran Federation' which is totally a military power that we didn't just make up, lie about what they're capable of, lies upon lies as they try and deceive the Scarrens and the Peacekeepers and keep Earth safe from either side those aggressive powers. In general I think 'Androids pretend to be human to deceive aliens' is a good plot for lots of stories, and could easily be turned into a rather long plot. Since the androids wouldn't want to let Crichton head off to parley with these alien aggressors on his own. And he could really use all the help he can get for whatever crazy ass plot he comes up with next. 3. Aliens would want Android tech. Probably just Scorpius, but others too if they find out more about Earth. I hadn't realized it at the time, but there was a period of the show where the hybrid Scarren-Sebacean was working with Crichton, and that would be the perfect opportunity for him to learn something about the androids and Earth history. And being him, he would look at all this extra-dimensional BS and android super soldiers and see potential weapons. He'd probably be disappointed that the Queen's Maso wasn't around anymore and that Hamelin Organization stopped human testing after Emil, since it would mean he'd be working from scratch if he could just get back into the good graces of the Peacekeepers and do so with enough of the demonic element to set up another research base. Hell, he'd probably try to directly convince Crichton get the androids to agree to serve the Peacekeepers, since that would technically put them back into contact with 'humans' if genetically engineered ones. Arguing that he could get the entire remaining population of Earth a ticket off world (to a nice Peacekeeper controlled colony where the can serve their new military overlords) if destroying the machine lifefroms proved to difficult even with a few starships to blast them from orbit. 4. The Terminals. The central intelligence of the machine lifeforms would likely reconsider its direction of evolution far earlier with a living human to observe, especially one that tries so hard to avoid aggressive resolutions. Even if that doesn't work, Crichton's crew and allies proves that he has managed to connect and form lasting bonds with entirely alien beings over and over. A direct repudiation of what the machine network had thus far found to be the fastest way to accelerate its own growth. Whether this would lead to a quicker conclusion that it needs to escape Earth and find its own destiny, likely expedited by FTL tech it took from the androids once Crichton revealed it to them, or an attempt at some kind of allegiance against the various hostile powers of the greater galaxy is unknown. While I can easily see Pascal and various pacifistic or non-hostile machine lifeforms being taken into account as potential allies the actions of the terminals past and potentially present would form a barrier to attempted cooperation. 5. Allying with the Worm Hole Ancients. The aliens that gave John Crichton knowledge about worm holes in the first place did so because they were running from an unstated catastrophe that had destroyed their home world. They originally decided against direct contact with Earth because it was likely to be divided and hostile. 21st century Earth that doesn't exist outside of Crichton's memories. It would be very interesting to see how they might react to finding out the new status quo. I've got a couple ideas that might be fun with them. One being that their dimension/time traveling tech lead to them accidentally creating their own personal Watcher related incident and the subsequent self-inflicted annihilation of their home world to stop it from spreading to the greater portion of the galaxy. Creating a situation where despite their far greater technological adeptness they find a reason to deeply respect humans/androids for facing down and defeating what they truthfully could not, reclaiming their world instead of burning it and running. (Though I'm iffy on that alteration/crossover expansion as it sort of makes them more like the Stargate's Asgard.)

[arandompostarchive]

SALEM - Ch. 16

SAVED WORK

Summary: In all the centuries of your existence, you had never been dragged out of hiding by another god, put in a superhero team and forced to save the universe. But it seems your luck has run out.

_____________

Salem was nothing like he remembered it.

The town was quiet. No soft shouting in the background, or small children running around, bumping into him. You hadn’t sensed his arrival and run out to meet him with your usual wide smile.

There was nothing.

In fact, he smelled fire, ash, and some sort of cooked meat.

His nose wrinkled at the scent. He had never liked the smells fire left behind for whatever reason. He walked into the town and immediately sensed the use of magic. The grass was wet with red, but there were no bodies in sight. He was sure he sensed recent magic, maybe someone had decided to clean the place up.

But from what he could tell, there weren’t any humans around to do that. He looked around more, trying to figure out exactly where you were. Looking closer, he saw there were a few bodies, though they had been burnt to char. His eyes widened. He became a bit more nauseous now that he was able to identify one of the smells.

The bodies, whoever they were, seemed to have been haphazardly thrown by someone else. The saw the town’s square, a stacked of burnt wood in front of its usual decorations. There was another body tied to it, also burnt. It seemed less charred than the others but was still most certainly dead.

He rushed over to it. There was a nauseating squish sound beneath his shoes, a small amount of blood splashed onto his pant leg, staining the fabric. He recognized the woman there, he was sure of it. He couldn’t place it though.

The skin was charcoal black.

He ran his hand over the face. The red-black of the skin flaked under his head and he struggled to identify what he felt.

It was most certainly your magic.

It floated around the burnt wood, hovering in the air. It was stronger than he had ever felt it before. Strangely strong. It almost reminded him of his mother’s power. A strange, intense type of magic.

This had to be you. There’s no way you, even if you were a demi-god, could release this much power unless it was revenge for your own death. They had killed you.

He felt an extreme type of rage. A boiling kind of rage. The kind that bubbles in the pits of your stomach and makes you see red. He could feel water run does his face. He hadn’t even realized he’d started crying until he felt the tears drip from his chin.

He untied the body. He managed to teleport over to a nearby bench, something he had never perfect it. He’d never use it for long distances, but small ones were do-able.

He laid you down next to the lake he had met you at and slowly started at the sun. It was a sunrise instead of a sunset, and somehow that made this all worse. The universe had given you a sunset at the beginning and a sunrise at the end. Everything seemed to be backward. He would’ve laughed at the circumstances, but all that came to his ears was silence. His silence.

Your hands were frozen in place, creating a terrifying statue. An actual person etched in time. He used magic to drift your body out before allowing it to sink.

Loki woke up sweating, his shirt sticking to his back. He was breathing heavily as he whipped his head around, looking at his surroundings. His room. Rather the one Stark had assigned him. It didn’t quite feel like ‘his’ yet, but it was where he was supposed to sleep. Thor had somehow convinced the man of iron to let him stay on the same floor as you and share a small common area with you. Leave it to Stark to make over the top living areas. Usually, he wouldn’t mind silence. Especially since he spent his childhood with Thor, who wasn’t exactly known for being quiet. But with the knowledge that you were supposed to be there too, it felt unsettling. Odd.

He ran his hands over his face, feeling the sweat on his forehead. He had been dreaming about you. He didn’t want to get Stark’s hopes up. He may not like the man, but Loki wasn’t cruel. That and he’d seen rock fall from above him as he left. He was too far sense where you were, not that he was even sure where he should be looking. He wasn’t certain how to get to Kalan from Earth, Kalan to Earth, he’d much rather find a ship and fly. If you were dead, there was no point in going now. If you weren’t, you were probably already on your way. Either way, waiting seemed to be his only option.

He hadn’t spent any time outside of his room, aside from the day or two he was in the Avenger’s medical wing. Some of the team had come up to his door, asking questions.

Peter was the first one. He tried asking what happened, but Loki simply ignored until the boy eventually left, telling Loki that whatever happened wasn’t his fault.

It didn’t help.

Tony came several times.

At first, it was yelling. Mostly questioning why he was there and you weren’t.

And of course, there was Thor. Thor was concerned about Loki’s health, encouraging him to eat or get out of his room. It never worked.

Then, late that night he heard the soft, recognizable footsteps of the spider boy.

“Hi, Mr. Loki.” Peter started. There was a chair next to Loki’s door. Peter wasn’t certain who had put it there, but he pulled it closer to him and sat down.

“She left that note behind when you first left.” Peter held the letter in his hand. “Seemed like she wasn’t sure if it was a good idea in the first place.”

Peter’s hand was shaking. He could hear shuffling behind the door. He took a deep breath.

“I’m just going to read the note.”

Hello, all.

Well, this letter certainly won’t be the nicest thing you’ve ever read.

Sorry.

If this actually opens, I’d say chances are high that I’m dead. Don’t give up hope on me completely though. But, still.

Moros is still dangerous. If I’m not back, we probably didn’t manage to kill the asshole. I’m sorry. I’m sure I tried, but fighting isn’t an exact science, you know? I hope you’ll eventually forgive me for leaving without you.

Cap, you never really liked me. I was hoping that maybe by breaking the rules successfully, you might have more respect for me. I guess I failed that one. I’m sorry I never really proved myself a worthy teammate.

Tony, you are the best brother I never wanted. Thanks for showing me more about technology and humanity. It’s been a while since I’ve spent this much time with mortals. I know you’re upset, and I’m sorry. All my life I’ve wanted to be the hero. The person people think of when they need help, someone they feel they can rely on. You showed me I could do that. And for a moment, I really was a hero. I doubt you understand how much that meant to me.

Peter, I hope that project went well. Sorry I couldn’t help. I’ll miss you, kid. You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for. For once, just let yourself be in the spotlight, huh? You may not be an official Avenger now, but you will be. I promise.

Loki. Hopefully, I’ll find a way to save you even if I can’t save myself. I loved you years ago. And well I wouldn’t use the word “love”, I definitely feel strongly for you now. Maybe we could’ve been something again. I hope to see you in Elysium.

Everyone else. I didn’t know you well. I hoped that we would be close. That I would be a real part of this team, but it never seemed to happen. Still, thank you.

Your name was signed messily on the bottom. You had clearly been rushing. Peter was sure he heard something on the other side of the door. Your letter may speak about you like you were dead, but you asked him not to give up hope.

So he wasn’t going to.

Tony didn’t speak too much. I spent most of his time in his lab, which wasn’t too different from his norm. But he didn’t seem to make the same jokes. He hadn’t called anyone a nickname in a good few days. But even Nat missed Tony’s sarcastic comments.

Peter tried his best to get through to Tony, and Tony was clearly trying his best to make Peter feel better, but it didn’t seem to be helping either of them.

Loki stayed away from everyone. Everyone took turns bringing him up food. Most of the time he ate it, though sometimes he just didn’t want to get up. Losing you once was hard, losing you twice was taking a toll.

He went over every detail of the past two weeks in his head. Moros and Ker, Kalan, then hell itself. The small, chaste kiss you had planted on his lips before sending him back to Kalan. He wished he held it just a second longer. Maybe argued against you more. Tried to stay in Tartarus as long as he could. But no. He didn’t do any of that.

Centuries ago, you were the greatest person he had ever met. Nothing had changed.

***

On your travel, you dozed off more than once. Piloting a ship alone was boring. Insanely boring. And it’s like finally being alone let your body catch up with the events of the past two weeks.

Two weeks.

It seemed like longer.

Much longer.

You weren’t certain how long it took you to get home. Space was pitch black, and it was harder to navigate than you’d like to admit.

Over your life, you’d spent time in space. Gods were used to that sort of thing. But that doesn’t mean it was somewhere you liked spending your time.

You were sure it was at least a few days before you began to recognize the star patterns. By then, the ship was running low on whatever fueled it. You were thankful you didn’t have to teleport yourself again, you weren’t sure if you could handle that again. Physically or mentally.

The small patch over your eye made it difficult to see, much less find your way to Earth. You had never really gotten to see the stars around Earth up close, and although they were beautiful, you had much more important things to do.

You paced around the back of your ship, waiting to get the alert that you were entering Earth’s atmosphere. You let out a small groan. Not like there was anyone around to hear you.

It was silent. Eerily silent. Not a single sound around and it was beginning to drive you insane. You had started humming songs you’d learn over the past few hundred years. Some melodies you had overheard a century ago, other modern songs you had heard Stark playing in his lab.

You paced and hummed, trying to create some sort of sound besides the drowning quiet of space. Eventually, you heard a small siren sound, and the front windshield of the ship flashed red. A symbol came up in a language you hadn’t seen before. Thank the gods for Allspeak.

It seemed to be the Kalan equivalent of an exclamation mark, which was never good when accompanied by sirens and flashing lights.

You rushed to the front looking over some of the systems. The ones you understood at least. It seemed you were approaching Earth’s atmosphere far too fast.

You sat down in the pilot’s seat and steered the ship. Hopefully, it would stay intact enough to land.

***

Loki had spent the two weeks sitting in his room or in Tony’s garage. It had the body of the ship you had stolen. Tony didn’t want to rebuild it, so it made for a nice quiet place that nobody would look for him in.

He had brought a few books down, mostly Midgardian ones you had shown him centuries ago. Everyone was preparing to fight Moros, and he had sat in on more than a few strategy meetings. They mostly consisted of him repeating the same information over and over.

But the garage was quiet.

He paced around, picking his palm. It was a bad habit he had picked up from his mother over the years, but it helped calm his nerves. As he walked back and forth, the metal beneath him creaked. It was less than stable, which wasn’t reassuring, but at the moment he wasn’t particularly worried.

As he walked toward the back of the ship, he heard a soft crunch beneath his feet.

He lifted his boot and some broken petals fell from his shoe. It was the flower he had discarded into the ship after it had scratched you. He picked it up. The petals were only beginning to dry, and some were still the same soft purple they had been before. It really was a pretty color.

One thorn of the rose-like flower still had a small bit of blood on it. He frowned at the now dried liquid. He carefully set the flower aside and sat down on the floor, his head in his hands.

He took a deep breath before the ship shook. There was some sort of loud sound in the background and a few seconds went by before he heard a voice address him.

“Loki, Captain Rogers has asked you to meet the team outside immediately. He has also said you may need your armor.”

Loki sighed and stood. It felt more like clawing his way out of a whole than simply walking out of the garage. His armor appeared on him as he walked outside. He heard some yelling and other voices in the distance. And maybe someone crying?

When he stepped outside he saw a ship that had landed. Well, it was closer to ‘crashed’ but it was certainly better than his landing.

The man of iron and the Captain were yelling at each other, and he saw a body lying on the ground. He walked a bit quicker toward the group. The closer he got, the better he could hear the argument.

A doctor rushed past him toward the body, sitting next to the spider boy. She seemed to be checking vitals, and she gestured to someone behind him before a few other doctors walked past Loki with a stretcher. They picked the body up (which he could now tell was a woman with a large scar and a patch on her face).

“Tony you need to calm down. For all we know, Moros is coming here now. We need to wake her up as soon as possible.”

“I don’t care Steve. I thought she was dead. Everyone thought she was dead. She wrote a note saying she was dead! Let her relax for five seconds, will you?”

Peter was trying his best to get you up. At the very least, he wanted to make sure you were alright.What the hell had happened? The was a slight, still raw-looking scar on about half your face, though it was partially covered by a white and red patch. He assumed the red was blood, but did his best to ignore that.

Steve and Tony were yelling in the background, everyone else was talking amongst themselves and interjecting every so often. Thor and Clint had gone in to get Cho not too long ago and help her with any supplies she’d need and soon they had all returned and you were taken away. Loki had arrived, and Peter saw his face shift into one of horror as you passed.

“What is going on?” Loki said, rapidly looking between Tony and Steve.

Steve sighed before answering. “It seemed Y/n is alright. Broadly speaking that is. We need to wake her up immediately and get her back with the team. It’s not ideal, but we need information and we need it now.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “She needs rest. Whatever happened to her obviously took a toll. She’s missing a fucking eye! At least let her heal a little bit, god man.”

“She’s a god, you’ve heard her. She heals fast. She’ll be alright. She needs to push a little longer, I know it’s not—”

“You’ve never liked her. I get it, really I do. A random girl shows up and her ex is the guy who tried to take over the world. But she needs longer than a few minutes of rest. If we woke her up, she’d say she’s fine and just push through it. I know better than anyone that she’ll just crash and burn. Now, I’m going to go stay in her room with Cho. If you get a few more brain cells, come visit.” Tony walked off.

“Tony, that’s not it at all.” Tony didn’t turn back, he simply continued the walk toward the tower.

“With all respect that is due, Captain.” Loki started, facing Steve. “She’ll need recovery before she is capable of helping in any way. Stark is correct, she’ll only pretend to be alright until she eventually tires herself out. Then she’ll be of no help at all. It may be best to ignore Tony’s offer of visiting. I’d rather not have to hear another one of those fights in the near future.” He too turned away, and Peter followed after them quickly.

Loki was still slightly numb from the shock of actually seeing you.

Were you okay?

Where have you been?

Why didn’t you go with him?

What happened to your face?

***

You sat up quickly, your hair sticking to your forehead. For a second, you panicked that you couldn’t see out of one eye until you remembered the past… however long it had been. You could feel your shirt sticking to your back. You tried your best to take deep breaths and figure out where the hell you were.

There were a few people sitting around the room.

“Hey, you’re alright, it’s us.” You heard from right next to you. It startled you for a second before you saw Tony’s face next to you. You let out a sigh of relief and slowly lay back down.

Peter and Loki were both asleep in chairs on the other side of the room. Peter had a blanket draped over him and a piece of paper crumpled in his hand.

“Hey, kid.” You laughed a bit.

“Tony I’ve been alive longer than you were a thought in the back of your parent’s head.”

“Okay, okay kid.” You smiled at him. You missed him.

“How long have you been waiting?”

He sighed and sat back in his chair. “I think you’ve been out for around 24 hours? Cap isn’t happy about waiting this long to talk to you about what happened.” You nodded, sensing there was more he wanted to say. “Listen, I understand wanting to be the hero, I really do, by why on Earth would you try to make us think you were dead?”

You sighed. “Because I’ve fought with my siblings before. Fights usually last a little while before my mother steps in and breaks it up. I thought that would happen. If it took more than two weeks… I was fully expecting not to be here. I’m sorry.”

He nodded a bit but stayed silent.

Loki’s eyes slowly opened in his chair before he stood up and walked over to you.

“Are you alright? Do you feel okay?” He was showing more emotion in front of Tony than he usually would, and you suspected he was just too tired to keep on his usual straight face.

“Loki, I’m fine.” You smiled at him. Tony stood up and let Loki pull his seat closer to your bedside. Tony went to wake up Peter before he dragged him out of the room. Peter seemed more than a little upset, but eventually nodded at Tony and followed him out of the room, offering you a cheerful smile as he walked away.

Loki wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest. He had about a million and thoughts rushing through his head at once, and he wanted to ask you all of them.

Wherewereyou?Whydidyouleavehim?Whathappenedtoyourface?Howareyoualive?Howdidyougetback?Wheredidyougetthatship?Whatsortofuniformwereyouwearing?Haveyoueatenrecently?Didyouevenhavewater?Howlongwereyouinspace?Wereyoutravelingthewholetimehewasgone?

But that didn’t matter right now. Whatever happened, you were at least alive. He’d take what he could get.

[chibimyumi]

Dear @lunitamoon​​,

First of all, I am sorry it took so long to get to you, but thank you very much for your sweet compliments! The day you sent the ask was great, and so is today. I hope your life is good to you too.

But now without further ado, your question.

Uchikawa Reo

I think Reo is a very good actor. My first opinion of him when I saw him in Noah’s Ark Circus 2016 was that he has a lot of talent. Some of these talents were not polished yet, (his singing being one example, but given his young age I couldn’t possibly blame him), while other talents were already polished to a sparkling gem. When people talk about Reo, it is usually “cuteee, so tiny!!!” or compliments of the like. His looks make people shove his remarkableness as an actor under these irrelevant external qualities. That is a shame, so please allow me to highlight a few things that are remarkable about this boy.

Character interpretation and understanding

I think Reo understood the character of O!Ciel very well and he was able to deliver many of the nuances even his first time in the role. When hastily interpreted, O!Ciel’s character runs the risk of being taken for nothing but cranky, sulky and haughty. Reo however, even at the age of 12 managed to see that these three obvious traits have a much deeper root: ‘doneness’. O!Ciel is done with his butler’s sauciness, done with people around him imposing their opinions on him, done with the world. Uchikawa Reo managed to capture this fatigue quite well.

In the scene where Soma is altogether a bit too clingy, I think many would think O!Ciel would push the prince away or slap him away. Reo however, did not. He was trying to pull away Soma’s hands, but he never showed antagonism. Just doneness. Regardless of whether O!Ciel does or doesn’t see Soma as his ‘big brother figure’ and ‘friend’, he does care about him. Even when Reo-bocchan said: “I’m exhausted because of you,” there was no callousness in his voice; just irritation.

Reo managed to find a beautiful middle ground between ‘warm’ and ‘cold’ for O!Ciel, and that is exactly what I believe our Trash Baby Lord is. That is a lot more nuance in character study than I could possibly expect from most actors, let alone a 12 year old one.

Another example of Reo’s great understanding of his role is in the scene where he questions his butler whether he would be able to bring them to Baron Kelvin’s manor within an hour. Here he raised an eyebrow as he spoke. This raised eyebrow is very significant.

In the post ‘That Butler, Punchable‘, I discussed in detail how Sebastyun is constantly being very snarky at his master, presumably so because he did not consider the boy worthy of his full respect. In the scene of this example however, O!Ciel has earned the demon’s full respect, and he knows it.

Raising an eyebrow, O!Ciel shows that he has reestablished dominance as master, and that intellectually he is on the same playing field as the demon. He knows what he is doing, and unsurprisingly, the question asked was thusly phrased as a rhetorical one. Hence I did not translate this line as: “can you?” but instead as “you can, right?” Through this nuance, Reo-bocchan shows a great level of confidence and his grasp over the case.

Something else remarkable about 12-year-old Reo is his body-language. In the showdown between him and Baron Kelvin, Reo knew very well how to deliver his actions and the tension of the scene to even the people in the furthest back of the theatre. He takes his time to carry out every movement with meaningful decisiveness. One powerful kick. Re-assume stance. Walk behind his victim. Trap him under his foot. Point the gun at him. Had Reo just kicked Kelvin and stood on him in one consecutive movement, then the impact would have been broken.

I am not sure whether this was intentional, but before Reo pointed the gun at Kelvin, the hand that held the weapon was relaxed, which meant it would not attract attention away from his footwork. Only when the footwork was finished did Reo reveal his gun again from underneath his cape, effectively re-shifting attention back to the weapon when that should be the central focus again.  In theatre where audiences don’t view the production through edited and selected footage, it is vital that actors know where they should draw attention to, and reversely, where not to. Reo did well.

Reo’s natural flair for comedy is also noteworthy. O!Ciel’s character’s funniness is mostly his insane cuteness and inability to can at times; not because he has funny remarks to make. Trying too hard to be funny is a big theatre/movie sin, but Reo is luckily no sinner

As demonstrated above, Reo has an excellent understanding of his role and is careful in maintaining it even when the musical calls for comedy. Reo employed a very advanced technique of achieving comedy; namely discrepant solemness. He does not loosen up or start monkeying around; instead he maintains his usual up-tightness while tricking Aberline into saying his own name wrong. The brilliancy in this scene was not just Reo’s ability to employ this advanced comedy technique, but also that the nature of this skit was perfectly in character for this insidious, manipulative brat.

In Tango on the Campania Reo filled most of the ‘space for growth’ he still had in the previous musical. Even though Reo’s body language on stage was already great in Noah’s Ark Circus, he did have the tendency to stand idle when the scene’s focus was not on him. In the latest musical however, Reo would not forget to also act when he was in the background.

His singing also largely improved, and was able to prolong his notes as well as transitioning between the notes. He still had trouble hitting the highest of notes, but his voice would no longer die off mid-way in its ascending.

Fukuzaki Nayuta

I think Nayuta is a great actor too, and personally a seemingly very underrated gem. In the first run of the Lycoris that Blazes the Earth (2014) Nayuta was admittedly not the best actor ever seen in theatre history. However, he did up the game for Ciel actors even at the time. Acting style is more preference-bound, but undeniably Nayuta’s singing was more solid than any past Ciel performer before him. Despite him having outclassed past Ciels’ singing, Nayuta received a lot of hate from fans, most amounting to: “I can’t watch this, he is too ugly.” (Yes, very constructive, very legit. Ughum. The Kurofandom never fails to remind me how so many are here just for the pretttiiiiiiessss >_>)

In 2015, Nayuta’s voice was actively dropping, sending him in a constant swing between up-and-down. I don’t have experience with a dropping voice, but I heard from everyone who did that it is incredibly hard to control your voice in speaking, let alone singing. And yet, though his voice was rough at all times, Nayuta did manage to hit all the tones. I find that very impressive. I think technique-wise, Nayuta is the strongest singer among all Ciel stage-actors so far. I haven’t heard his singing after his voice-change was complete, but I can imagine him having become a very good singer now. His capacity for control over his voice is superb, after all.

Nayuta’s acting is very subtle but convincing. When Nayuta-bocchan was in his cage, he even added some little movements of the hand that would not be in people’s usual expectations given the situation. To me, this little quirk seemed to convey how despite already having hit rock bottom, the last straw had only fallen just now. This boy is not just scared and desperate, he is murderously angry and resolute.

Nayuta’s subtle and yet convincing body-language can be seen throughout the musical. To demonstrate what I mean by ‘convincing’, I wish to point at Tango on the Campania. Compare Nayuta’s shaking to the headbanging of the stand-in for O!Ciel... Nope. (This actress is not a child, so I can be harsher.)

Again, Nayuta’s acting is subtle, but it does mean it is easily missed, especially in a live theatre. (’Overacting’ is obviously a thing (see demonstration 1 above ⇈), but to the people who initially criticised Furukawa for “moving around too much”, that’s the theatre medium for you. Theatre was not made to be recorded and viewed in close proximity. Moving any less will basically be invisible in a theatre (see my analysis of Tamaki’s performance as Snake).)

Enough side-tracked, back to Nayuta. In the scene where Nayuta-bocchan just woke up, he performed the panic dying down slowly expertly. We can tell that the shaking and heavy breathing really got the better of him, but that the boy was actively trying not to show his butler.  This was probably not visible live, but we have footage of it, so let us savour the panic-dying-down for what it is.

Though I might go as far as to say Nayuta might be better suited as a film-actor than theatre-actor, what was not missed on live audiences was this iconic scene below ⇊ when it finally dawned in O!Ciel that he had been chasing the wrong tail all along.

The atmosphere he created was incredibly tense, and we could practically hear the gears grinding and suddenly coming to a shocking halt. Bravo. It is ultimately for this scene that I think Nayuta would make a phenomenal stage-actor with just a BIT more stage-oriented instructions from the director.

Another scene that also conveyed the tension excellently was when O!Ciel was putting up with the Viscount. Nayuta knew better than put on an insulting high-pitched voice in parody of “a girl’s voice”, instead he minded the intonation of speaking and subtler mannerisms girls are socialised to perform.

When the Viscount really got way too close, Sasaki’s acting was incredibly flamboyant and loud, and yet it never threatened to overshadow Nayuta’s performance. Nayuta knows very well how to keep people’s attention on him even when he doesn’t have lines to say. When the Viscount turned Nayuta-bocchan around, the boy’s facial expression spoke voluuuumes.

Sakamoto, Nishii and Tanaka

I don’t have footage of them, and I am not going to get them legally or illegally, so I will include no visual examples of them in this post.

I don’t want to be harsh on children, they all did their best I believe, but do allow me to say that I am not very enthusiastic about their performances.

Sakamoto’s performance of Ciel was not very memorable, but I think it mostly has something to do with his part in the script just not being memorable at all. To sum up; Ciel in ‘Friendship’ received some guests from Japan, played chess, and stared wide shifty-eyed until the case solved itself. Sakamoto’s singing was decent, though. I wish they capitalised more on that.

Nishii... I think many people were initially especially enthusiastic about him because he did not “look like Vincent Phantomhive”. He did his best, I could tell he had fun in the performance, but whatever acting-talent he might have, the musical never gave him any chance to shine. That musical gave his character ZERO nuance. Nishii’s singing was very unpolished, and in the mere 3 weeks of audition time, there was also no time to get it polished. But then again, the same goes for the singing of most of that cast.

Tanaka... I could tell he did his best, but perhaps he was doing his best not to f*ck up a bit too hard. The songs in this musical were rather challenging, and Tanaka always seemed very tense as he was trying to chase the notes. It was like he was desperately clinging to his spot within a safety-zone, which ultimately meant he didn’t explore any potentials outside the range of monotony. When it comes to acting, it also seemed like cranky outbursts were the only emotion he dared touch upon.

So that was that! Thanks for reading!

[cha-melodius]

The Definition of Madness Chapter 5

Whumptober No. 26: Concussion

Fandom: The Man from UNCLE (2015)

Pairings: Napoleon Solo/Illya Kuryakin, Napoleon Solo & Illya Kuryakin & Gaby Teller

Summary: They say the definition of madness is doing the same thing and expecting a different result.

Or, Illya gets stuck in a very whumpy time loop.

Ao3 Link

TW for this chapter: implied suicide. Only a very brief mention of it, and definitely no details of any kind. I think you can probably guess the context of this given the nature of the story. I will say that the latter half of this chapter is very warm and fluffy, so I'm not leaving you in a dark place.

*****

Previous Chapter

Illya’s not sure how he does it, but he manages to wake up hours before dawn. The safehouse is dead silent, and his partners will be asleep for a while yet. As quickly and as quietly as he can, he arms himself with every possible weapon he can strap to his body and throws extra ammunition and some random bits of portable food into a small backpack.

He practically runs up the mountain, covering the distance in less than half the amount of time it normally takes them. The forest is pitch black around him, but he doesn’t need to see where he’s going. He knows it in his bones, by this point.

The sun is just peeking over the horizon when he arrives at the compound. He doesn’t cut his way in, because he’s sure there’s some kind of silent alarm that gets triggered, and instead finds a tree that’s been allowed to grow too close to the fence. It’s not the easiest climb, but he makes it high enough to launch himself over the fence, tucking into a roll as he lands on the other side.

It’s odd, seeing the compound in the daylight. Somehow it looks just as deserted as it is at night, like it’s only ever staffed by a skeleton crew of guards. He knows better than to let himself get lulled into a false sense of security, though. There must be some hidden part of the compound that he hasn’t discovered yet, underground perhaps, somewhere the mysterious man in charge hides out. Somehow Illya has never seen him until someone has gotten captured, but he can’t possibly just appear out of nothing.

Illya finds a lone guard about his height and knocks him out, quickly stripping him down in a storeroom. His uniform is a bit tight on Illya, but it’s not too noticeable. Concealing his weapons as best he can, Illya pulls the guard’s cap low over his eyes and steps back out into the facility.

He should have done this ages ago, he thinks almost idly as he wanders freely through the compound. He learns a lot more about their targets, understands a lot more about the facility, and his partners are safe. Well, he doesn’t know that they’re safe. He has no idea what they’re doing, to be honest, but at least this time he can pretend.

If there is an entrance to some underground bunker, it remains stubbornly hidden. Illya has poured over nearly every inch of the compound, and so eventually he returns to the chemical building. He’d been avoiding it, in part because of the bad memories and in part because it always feels like a trap. Then again, maybe it feels that way because it’s where the information he actually needs is kept.

The building is empty, as it always seems to be. Illya finds a high, secluded perch on a nearby building and watches for a long time, hoping to see some sign of activity, but there’s nothing. He briefly wonders if the reason that no one seems to be around is because they are in the process of attacking the safehouse, but he pushes the thought from his mind.

Eventually he climbs down from his perch and creeps into the building. It’s a familiar space at this point, given that most of the loops seem to end with them dying there, but most of the times he’s there he’s too busy to really look around. To wit, this time he finds a door hidden along one wall, partially obstructed from view by lab benches and equipment. The lock on it is strange and high-tech, like nothing he’s ever seen before, and he wishes Napoleon were here. He’d probably be able to crack it no problem.

Illya spends a long time trying to figure out the door. Long enough that he is, finally, lulled into a false sense of security. Surely if they knew he was here, they would have acted by now. He’s considering putting some charges down and trying to just blow his way through the door, when the day finally catches up with him.

He hears the footstep behind him too late. Turns too slowly to defend himself. After all of the myriad ways he’s been attacked, it seems almost absurd that this time he’s taken out by nothing more than some kind of heavy club that smacks hard into his temple and makes him see stars before everything goes black.

*****

The thing is, it doesn’t kill him.

Illya wakes in a cell. The floor is cold, damp concrete underneath him, and even though the air isn’t particularly cool, it chills him to his bones. When he tries to open his eyes he sees there is a high, barred window letting a sliver of light in, but even that is too much for him. He winces and rolls onto his side, pushing himself up just enough to heave out what little is in his stomach before collapsing to the ground again.

Fuck. He hasn’t been concussed this badly in a long time. He forces his eyes open again and the world spins around him, but he can’t just lie here. He has to find some way out. Unfortunately his efforts to move end with him dry heaving again, and he curls reflexively into a ball. Maybe in a bit, then.

“So nice to finally meet you, Mr. Kuryakin,” a familiar voice says, some unknown amount of time later.

Illya pries his eyes open to see—who else?—the mysterious man in charge standing outside his cell. A small smile plays on his lips, mocking and smug, as he surveys Illya where he still lies on the floor of the cell.

“You look to be in pretty rough shape, there,” he says lightly. “Sorry for the rude welcome, but, you see, my boys can get a bit carried away sometimes.” “Fuck you,” Illya manages, spitting the taste of bile out of his mouth.

The man laughs at this. “Ah, there’s the spirit I was expecting. You surprised us today, Mr. Kuryakin. Did you know that?” “Just kill me and be done with it.”

Silence falls heavy in the air, and when Illya looks up again the man is staring at him with a calculating expression on his face.

“You’re the one resetting the day, aren’t you?”

It is perhaps the very last thing that Illya thought he would hear. Surprise chokes him and he erupts in a coughing fit, wincing against the blinding pain in his skull.

“I suppose that makes sense,” the man continues, “given all that you seem to know about the facility. Fortunate for us that we caught you, then.” “What are you talking about?” Illya growls as he tries to force himself to his hands and knees.

“Don’t play dumb. You know what I mean. I don’t know how you stole it from me, but no matter. I’ll get it back shortly.” “Impossible.”

The man raises his eyebrows questioningly. “Did you never wonder how we always know where your team is, or what you’ll do? I spent fifty loops trying to outsmart you before I lost it. I have to admit, you lot are quite creative. Far more formidable than anyone else who has tried to come take us out. How many loops has it been for you, now? Have you discovered all of our traps?”

Illya doesn’t answer. The idea that he’s nearly thirty loops behind their adversary is staggering. He pushes himself up until he can lean against the wall, ignoring the lurch in his stomach and cursing how his head is at once throbbing and fuzzy.

“How does it work?” he groans eventually. Clearly there’s no use pretending he doesn’t know what the man is talking about. “How does it end?”

“You don’t think I’m going to actually tell you that, do you?” the man laughs. “As to how it ends: don’t worry, there is a cure, so to speak. Once we pull you out, I’ll take the reset back, and your pesky team will finally be eliminated.”

“None of this makes sense,” Illya says. Granted, his mental facilities aren’t at their best right now, but even so he’s pretty sure this is insane. He would never believe it for a second if he hadn’t been living it. “How can some drug do all this? Time doesn’t work that way. Reality doesn’t work that way.”

The man smirks at him. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s not real. Maybe it’s all in your head. Maybe it’s all some elaborate psychological torture to get you to reveal your plans.” He turns, then, and walks toward the door, pausing only for at the threshold to glance back at Illya. “What do you think?”

He leaves Illya alone in the rapidly falling dark of the cell. To be honest, Illya doesn’t know what to think anymore, but for the first time the idea of losing the ability to reset the day is terrifying. What if he gets this ‘cure’, whatever it is, and his partners are already dead? What if this is the day that he loses everything, and there are no redos?

That night, for the first time in this already too-long nightmare, Illya does the unthinkable.

*****

He wakes up in his bed at the safehouse with the mother of all splitting headaches. The early morning sunlight is just starting to come through the window and it’s already too much. There’s pretty much no way he’s making it up the mountain today, so he might as well stay in bed, but then he hears Napoleon humming and thinks maybe he should try to keep him from burning his hand.

Turns out, trying to push himself out of bed is a mistake. His head swims and he collapses onto all fours with a heavy thud, retching the bile from his empty stomach onto the hardwood.

“Christ, Peril, what’s wrong?” Napoleon gasps as he tears open the door to the room. He rushes forward and bends down at Illya’s side, one hand grabbing his arm while the other rests between his shoulders, rubbing small, comforting circles. 

Illya groans and allows himself to be hustled back into the bed, throwing an arm over his eyes against the light. “Can you…” he mutters, gesturing blindly toward the window, and after a moment he hears the blinds shut.

A few moments later the edge of the mattress dips as Napoleon sits down next to him, then a tentative hand brushes over his arm. “Peril, what’s going on?”

“M’sick,” Illya mumbles, because how do you explain that you have a concussion despite the fact that you didn’t actually hit your head?

Illya pulls his arm off his face and squints at his partner in the dim light, and finds Napoleon staring at him with no small amount of care and concern written across his face. He reaches forward and lays his palm gently across Illya’s forehead, presumably checking for a fever, and for some bizarre reason Illya shivers under his touch. It occurs to him, then, that Napoleon didn’t end up burning his hand on the pan after all, and the realization shocks a laugh out of him.

“Well you’re not feverish, but you might be delirious,” Napoleon says wryly. “I don’t know what this is, but you’re obviously going to have to stay back today.”

“No!” Illya say sharply, then winces at the volume of his own voice. He clamps Napoleon’s wrist in an iron grip. “You can’t go. You and Gaby, you have to stay too.”

“Come now, Peril, I appreciate the concern, but the two of us can handle a little recon without you.”

“Please, Napoleon,” Illya grits out, clenching his eyes tightly closed, “don’t go. I…” I need you, he can’t quite make himself say. “Don’t go, just for today. For me.”

Illya squeezes Napoleon’s wrist again, and after a moment his partner’s warm palm covers his hand. At that he manages to pry his eyes open again and finds that same worried, careful expression on Napoleon’s face.

“Ok, Peril. Ok,” he agrees. “We’ll put off the op.”

He expects that Napoleon will get up and leave him to his misery, but his partner just sits there, watching him, his hand still covering Illya’s and his thumb absently tracing small circles on Illya’s skin. All at once Illya is thrown back in his memories to the kitchen, to the determination, and something else, in Napoleon’s eyes. It sends another shiver down his spine, which Napoleon apparently interprets as a chill. He pulls away to grab the blanket, and Illya tries to suppress a surge of disappointment at the loss of contact.

“I’ll bring you some breakfast in a bit, hm?” Napoleon says as he pulls the blanket over Illya’s body. He pauses, frowning, and somehow Illya can tell he’s remembering seeing Illya dry-heaving only minutes earlier. “Maybe just some toast.”

“Cowboy,” Illya murmurs, stopping Napoleon before he leaves the room. He turns back expectantly, but once again Illya feels lost for words. He chokes down whatever emotion is clogging his throat and sighs heavily. “Don’t touch the pan handle without a mitt, and don’t turn on the oven.”

*****

Reading is, unfortunately, not really an option in his current condition, and honestly playing chess isn’t much better. He sleeps a lot of the day, and Gaby plays a some simple card games with him, but he doesn’t see much of Napoleon except for when he comes in to deliver food. Illya tries not to feel disappointed. It doesn’t really work.

He discovers why his partner has been so scarce when he finally gets up in the late afternoon. The injuries he sustains from loop to loop at least have the benefit of healing a lot more quickly than usual, so he feels almost back to normal besides a lingering dull headache. Napoleon is, perhaps predictably, in the kitchen, and he tuts disapprovingly when he sees Illya enter.

“You shouldn’t be up,” he scolds, barely pausing in whatever he’s doing.

Illya ignores him and walks over to investigate. Napoleon’s shirtsleeves are rolled to his elbows and he appears to be kneading some kind of smooth, pale yellow dough.

“You’re not using the oven,” Illya says quickly, his gaze darting toward the appliance, but it appears to still be off.

“No, I’m not,” Napoleon huffs as he kneads, “even though you won’t tell me why. This isn’t for baking. I’m making pasta.” Illya blinks at him, thinking he must be misunderstanding something. Surely Napoleon isn’t making noodles from scratch in their tiny safehouse kitchen. When would he have even gotten the ingredients to do such a thing? The whole operation seems extravagant, even for Napoleon. His partner is too busy vigorously kneading the dough to notice his confused look, though.

“Why?”

Napoleon laughs. “I can’t very well make my nona’s soup with dried pasta,” he says, no small amount of disdain lacing his words. “I think she might rise from the grave and beat me over the head with a wheel of parmesan.”

“All right,” Illya allows, like he understands why it would matter, “but why are you making the soup now? Here? The circumstances cannot be ideal.” “Ah, well, it’s her famous get-well soup,” Napoleon explains. He pauses for a moment, still staring down at the pasta dough. “When I was growing up, any time I got sick she would come over and spend all day making this soup. Said it was better than any medicine a doctor could give.”

Momentarily, the dough seems forgotten. Napoleon looks like he’s lost in a pleasant memory, a small, melancholy smile curling the corners of his mouth. The image of a short, round Italian woman taking care of a small boy with dark hair and deep blue eyes forms in Illya’s mind, and he finds himself inexplicably warmed by it.

“And?” Illya prompts. “Is it?”

Napoleon snaps out of his reverie and sets about kneading the dough vigorously again. Illya wonders how he knows when it’s ready, but he doesn’t want to know badly enough to get a lecture on pasta making from Napoleon right now.

“Of course, Peril,” Napoleon says. “Like she always said, it’s got her secret ingredient in it.”

“Which is?”

To his surprise, Napoleon flushes an impressive shade of red at this question. “Wouldn’t be a secret if I went around telling everybody, would it?” he mumbles, barely audible.

Illya lets silence fall between them for a moment, only broken by the soft sounds of kneading. It’s really rather more mesmerizing than it should be, watching the muscles in his forearms move under his skin as he works the dough with strong, capable hands. Napoleon's hair is starting to curl from being in the steamy kitchen all day, a few locks escaping his pomade to fall across his forehead, and the whole picture is rather… arresting.

“You still haven’t answered the question,” he says eventually—and why on Earth does his throat feel so tight?—“Why are you making it now?”

“I would have thought that was obvious, Peril,” Napoleon huffs. “You’re sick, you get the soup. Which is also why you really should be in bed.”

He finally looks up at Illya, and his eyes are full of that same something that they had been after the explosion. And then, suddenly, everything seems to fall into place. Napoleon has been in here all day making this soup, the soup that his grandmother made him when he was sick, the soup that you clearly only make for people you love, because why else would anyone spend that much time making soup…

And he’s making it for Illya.

Abruptly Illya really does feel like he needs to go back to bed. Or at least sit down.

“Have you… have you made it many times?” Illya asks quietly, sounding nearly as unsteady as he feels.

Napoleon stares at him for a moment before he drops his gaze to the counter again. “No. No, I haven’t,” he answers, just as quiet. Then he clears his throat, clenching his jaw, and gives his head a tiny shake. “But I know how, if that’s what you’re worried about. It’ll be good.” “I know it will, Cowboy,” Illya says. “Thank you, for making it for me.” “Well, you know, it’s something to do while we’re stuck here all day,” Napoleon says dismissively, but it’s too late. Illya happens to know what Napoleon would do all day when stuck in a safehouse, and it’s not making extremely labor-intensive soup. “Now will you go back to bed? You look like you’re about to fall over.”

Illya takes the excuse, even though his fading concussion is certainly not the thing that’s currently making him so lightheaded. Gaby offers to play another card game with him but he begs off, claiming he’s going to nap, when really all he does after he climbs back into the bed is stare at the wall and think.

It would be one thing if the only thing that had clicked into place was Illya’s understanding of Napoleon’s feelings for him. No, that realization had the benefit—or misfortune? who could tell—of seemingly popping the cork on Illya’s own repressed feelings. Of everything he felt, but didn’t dare put a name to, that terrible day in the kitchen, and nearly every other repetition of this miserable loop. Told himself it was loyalty, told himself it was friendship, because good agents simply do not fall in love with their partners.

Turns out he is just as terrible a spy as he’s always accused Napoleon of being.

He’s not even close to done processing all of it by the time Gaby peeks her head into the room and says that dinner is ready, and does he feel up to coming to the table to eat?

He nods and follows her to the kitchen, feeling some kind of perverse comfort in the knowledge that he has, seemingly, all the time in the world to make sense of what’s going on in his heart.

The soup is, without a doubt, the most delicious soup he’s ever tasted. Gaby lets out a groan of delight more suited to the bedroom than the dinner table when she takes a bite and honestly, it’s all Illya can do not to echo her. He’s sure his face does something incriminating nevertheless, because the blistering warmth that fills his chest—warmth that has decidedly nothing to do with the temperature of the soup—is far more than he can reasonably control.

Napoleon, of course, looks exceedingly pleased with himself, but whatever emotions that had slipped loose earlier have been carefully locked away again. It doesn’t matter. Between Napoleon’s aborted confession after the explosion and the soup, Illya knows. To be honest, it’s a little embarassing that it took him 22 loops to figure it out, now that he knows where to look for the signs.

A year and 22 loops. God, he’s an idiot sometimes.

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