#but when i have a very unpredictable emergency once in a blue moon

[euthymiya]

my manager asking the workers gc who can cover my coworkers last minute absence:

the chat: 🦗🦗🦗

[chaoticneutralwriter]

The Storm

And it all comes crashing down.

guardian demon!jimin x reader

genre: supernatural, angst, romance, fluff, slow-burn

word count: 4.2k

related works: see Masterlist under guardian demon!jimin au

Continuation of The Calm

Warning: uhh...very mild violence and blood?? LOL

A/N: okay woww....it’s uhhh IT’S BEEN A WHILE. And honestly, it has been a mixture of....quarantine burnout (is that a thing?? idk this quarantine kinda hit different), wrestling with scene placement, writer’s block, re-writing chunks of stuff, being indecisive about where to end the chapter (ngl i had some pretty killer cliffys LOLL)  i am SO sorry it took so long!! 😫 (the value in having an ✨outline✨) i know i might sound like a broken record, but i cannot stress enough of how thankful i am to your patience and love for this story!! 💜💜💜💜 i hope you enjoy this chapter in spite of how short it is 😭😭😭😭

(Also yes, that scene is 100% inspired by that gif even though i had already planned for it to happen; the gif helped me paint a better picture 🥰)

Tags: @cherryjiminiee @kokobaekkie @breathebangtan @itsadoozie @thatshylatina @chiminieboi @azulamakesmeblank @sectumsemptae @awkwardwookie @aduky @poisonseashell @shortannoyingginger @caramelmac-chiato @sana-b @jiminstinct @beautifulparisiangirl @taelieninvader @ggukjitaejin @xakemi-chiix @vantaenims @atulipandarose​ @moments-of-melancholy @xclo02 @cherub-kookie @gottadreamitallaway​ @indiesy​ @disn3yfreak @oerangdoongi @definitelynotshady​ @youmaiiwasherebeforeu​

The chase more or less ends with Jimin hauling you up over his shoulder, only to dump you into the shower shortly after. You get him back for man handling you when, as soon as he flicks the shower on, you drag him in with you, clothes and all.

He had sighed, defeated, muttering how much of handful you are but as much as he gripes, he still helped you wash your hair with the barest hints of a smile on his lips. You were more than happy to return the favour, though you don't think your scalp massage was as good as his. Eventually, he drags the both of you out before your fingers turn pruney.

“You sure you don't want me to walk you back to your place?”

You nod your head as you're slipping on your shoes by the front entrance.

“I'll be fine Jimin. It's still day time so nothing will happen.” You assure, finally glancing up to his figure leaning against the wall, arms crossed and dressed in a new pair of black slacks and a silk loose blouse, its sheen like the colour of the ocean under a blue moon. You straighten, walking the few steps to stand closer to him until you pick up the faint smell of his body wash – warm cinnamon spice, the one that lingers on your skin as well. “Besides, I have your...emergency contact so there's nothing for you to worry about.”

“You say that, but you promise you'll actually use it right?”

The question makes you inadvertently inhale, the reluctance barely concealable in that breath of air but you give in, meeting his eyes as you say, “I will. I promise.”

Jimin doesn't say anything for a moment, watching you with those dark irises until you see the little tension on his face relax with the slight sagging of his shoulders. He smiles, “Good.”

Your mouth twitches at a corner and you can't help yourself. You reach up on the tips of your toes, taking his face into your hands to land a quick peck on the centre of those pillowy pink lips.

“Then you have to promise me you'll focus on getting better – don't strain yourself over small things like this.”

He blinks, eyes large at your burst of forwardness, hands that had moved instinctively to hover finally nestle themselves on your waist. You hear him huff through his nose after a while, expression smoothing over before your vision is blurred by his figure leaning down to press a proper kiss to you in return as he sneakily asks, “What if I asked simply because I wanted to spend more time with you?”

Now it's your turn to gape, breath caught in your throat and eyes wide while blinking dumbly. The more you blinked, the more amused Jimin became and the higher the blush creeps up your cheeks until the heat became unbearable. You sputter, stubbornly trying to ignore it.

“T-That's – ! You – ! No, I will not let you coerce me like this.”

He bursts out laughing heartily at the way you pout, head thrown back and all you could do is narrow your eyes up at him indignantly. When he's finally calmed but still sees you all puffed up like an angry hamster, he wraps his arms around to squeeze you to him, an easy-going smile lingering on his face.

“Ah, I least I tried.”

You sigh, “I'm serious Jimin. No horsing around if you can help it okay?”

Jimin thinks the look you're giving him is equivalent to that of a puppy's; all big and glossy and paired with the barest crinkle of worry in your brow, it leaves him no choice but to agree.

“Okay cherub. I promise I won't.” He says gently and only then do you seem satisfied.

“Good.”

Now that that's settled, you find yourself just standing in each other's arms, nothing more to say yet perfectly comfortable where you are. You find yourself fiddling with the small, dainty buttons on his shirt, a distraction to how shy you've slowly become under his attentive gaze.

“I should probably go now...” You mumble though you make little to no effort in actually doing so.

You hear Jimin hum, seemingly agreeing but he also doesn't make to show any signs of letting you go, even comfortably adjusts his hold on you. He also takes the time to place a kiss on your forehead. “Text me when you get home?”

“Mm.” You nod.

You remain like that for another good minute before it takes everything in you to drag yourself away from his arms, picking up your bag to sling onto your shoulder. You already feel the chill of the AC creeping into your arms as Jimin holds the door open for you.

“I'll see you then?” You ask, then chastise yourself for letting slip the little bit of disappointment you feel at having to leave so soon, however there's no taking back your text to Jaehee saying that you'll be on your way (she's definitely not someone you want to delay meeting).

Jimin eyes gleam with a knowing look though, like he's tossing around the idea of teasing you but instead, says playfully, “Of course, can't get rid of me that easily.”

You huff out a laugh, rolling your eyes with a shake of your head which only seems to satisfy him.

The trip home gave you the time to reflect on yourself and on the events that had happened. There's a lightness to your steps – no doubt finally meeting Jimin after a period of confusion and hurt and letting the floodgates to the emotions you've kept buried free has cleared the clog in your heart. On top of that, to have your guardian demon return the feelings you've long convinced yourself were futile; thought nothing more than a self-sabotaging trap designed by no one but you and your only escape from it was to take the plunge.

Yet here you are, relatively unscathed. To be honest, even now you're still in disbelief.

But you won't dismiss this warm giddiness that's taken over easily, just as how you're leisurely soaking in the rays of the late afternoon sun now. It bathes everything in a glow that has every colour in your eyes appear much more crisp and vibrant, making the city lively. It further brightens your mood.

Once you've crossed the threshold of your home, you immediately hear Jaehee's call of greeting from the kitchen.

“Did you eat yet?” She asked right off the bat as you enter after toeing off your shoes.

“Yeah, I ate before I left.”

She nods, continuing her chopping for what you can only assume is dinner for tonight.

“So...everything worked out okay?”

It's asked tentatively but the question doesn't surprise you as much as it should; whether it's because of Jaehee's prior awareness to your troubles, your deep-rooted friendship, or simply sensing the obvious complete shift in your mood, she very well knows where you've been without having to probe much.

Still, you can't help smiling.

The forecast calls for mild, clear weather like today for the days to follow. It's no doubt something a lot of people will be capitalizing on, a relief from the unpredictable temperatures between the changing of seasons. Perhaps it's with that same mindset, you find yourself being able to swallow back the niggling uncertainty that seems to always follow you.

You'll save your worrying for another day, but for now, you want to hold onto these promised sunny days for as long as you can.

“Yeah,” You breathe, “Everything's good.”

You see Jaehee's lips quirk up, a light smile that lets you know she's just as happy as you are to hear that. But then as she turns towards you, it morphs into a sly Cheshire grin.

“Spill it, girl. I need those details.”

-

The startled gasp that rings out in the dead of night seemed unnaturally loud in the dark spacious room that for a moment, Jimin thought it had belonged to a tormented ghost that had wandered its way in. After a few shuddering breaths did it occur to him that the sound had actually came from him.

His eyes slip shut once again, rubbing them tiredly as he inhales a deep breath before letting it out. Dragging his hand down his face, Jimin sits up, body feeling as if it's made of lead and rolled his neck and shoulders, trying to relieve the joints that are aching dully before reluctantly hauling himself out of bed, the dryness in his throat uncomfortable as is the clamminess of his skin after being drenched by cold sweat – it doesn't take much to know that he won't be able to slip into a blissfully empty state of slumber for the rest of the night.

His feet takes him into the kitchen and his hand grabs for a glass of water which he downs absentmindedly. The drink soothes the burning in his throat but the same cannot be said for the storm slowly brewing inside of him. Eyes as dark as the sky outside the large windows stare out listlessly, his mind slipping into deep thought.

How many times is that now? Four? Five?

For a number of nights, he's been plagued by these dreams – nightmares.

At first they were vague, mostly indiscernible as if shrouded by thick black smoke that whenever Jimin woke from them, the most he would feel is a sense of unease but soon afterwards, the feeling and the memory of it would fade as quick as it came.

But as the days passed, these dreams slowly mutated into something more vicious, taking a hold of his unconsciousness before he had the time to react.

And it was always the same dream.

Not knowing when or how he got there, Jimin would find himself in a formless space, surrounded from all sides by an endless ocean of white veils. They rolled and danced ceaselessly, much like turbulent waves out at open sea and he was the small boat being battered against the powerful force, threatening to capsize. The shifting and turning disoriented him, made his stomach churn and head spin but no matter how stubbornly he tried to run, he could never escape.

So all he could do was stand in place, and as the dancing veils begin to close in on him, the air around would become thinner and thinner until he was gasping for breath, lungs burning with no hope of holding in an ounce of air. Soon after his knees would collapse under him. As he's reduced to this weakened state, it's only then that he'll see it.

Amidst this deceivingly tranquil prison, a figure emerged in the distance, its shape distinctly outlined by the large pale fabric that continue to billow around by an invisible breeze, appearing very much like a ghostly apparition. At the sight, a chill would instantly run down Jimin's spine as if his blood had turned into ice and in the vast silence, only the deafening beating of his heart would fill his ears. For an unknown amount of time, this figure would simply stand ominously without moving. Then suddenly, it would advance, moving at a startling speed and so soundlessly with each blink of his eyes that before he could think, it was already towering over him like a great marble statue.

Like death encroaching.

Jimin could only wait frozen in place by the oppressive force bearing down on him, staring up with shaking pupils and it's then that he knew what it is that looks down upon him.

Divine judgment.

There's a stale and tar-like taste that blooms in his mouth first, then slowly, as the last remains of his strength leaves his body, he finally notices the cold dampness spreading outwards from his chest.

The blade that pierces through him was as dark as the blood it's coated in.

It's here that he wakes from the shock of the phantom pain so intense they momentarily blur the line between reality.

He's not one for superstitions or 'prophetic dreams', being a demon and all but he's by no means unfamiliar with them, especially now when they hit him in the face like this – so viciously and frequently too. A heavy sigh leaves his lips.

The last few days had been quiet; the first in... he's not sure how long. Perhaps that's why he slipped up like this, got caught up in believing that this sweet lie could be true. That maybe, by some miracle, there was a chance for the both of you.

Jimin scoffs a quiet laugh and his mouth twists into a cold smile.

How foolish; to think that they can be more than just wishful thinking.

Heaven is righteous, boasting to have eyes and ears in places without one knowing and yet so frivolous in what they choose to acknowledge.

And it's just his luck that the one time he was counting on that fact, it completely backfired on him.

There's no avoiding this; it's clear that any day now some divine being is going to descend upon him in the name of carrying out justice for the crimes he's committed. If not for the breached guardian contract, then for failing to complete the trials to prove his piety.

Jimin's eyes slips shut, tipping his head down, the ache along his neck and shoulders creeping over him once again – ever lingering, never fading – and all he could do is accept.

Alone in this large and empty penthouse, Jimin felt no anger, no remorse or fear, only a quiet sense of mourning he allowed for himself. However fleeting it may have been, those few days spent with you will be something he'll remember fondly. He thought, if this had been where his luck had went, then he at least can be reassured that it wasn't a complete waste.

Just as his eyes peer back open, the first rays of dawn had begun to bleed through the horizon, dispersing the darkened sky with the coming of a new day. As he watches the sun begin to rise, Jimin's expression hardened along with his resolve.

One thing’s for certain; no matter what happens, he'll keep you safe.

Until the very bitter end.

-

There's something amiss.

He can't quite place his finger on it, but Jungkook didn't go about his day without feeling an inexplainable sense of dread hanging over him like a heavy cloak that won't leave him. It felt as if every nerve in his body is coiled, restless and bracing for something to happen. As such, he's developed an annoying ache across the back of his neck and shoulder which he had to constantly roll in order to dispel some of the built up tension.

It didn't help, so it only made Jungkook endlessly irritated.

Wanting to blow off some of this steam, he had taken to wandering the streets in search of an outlet. Unfortunately, there's only so much he could do given his status in the mortal world. Playing the shoulder devil whispering temptations, tipping the scale between life or death, fortune or misfortune on a person was only fun while it lasted, and Jungkook was a demon who grew bored very easily of those same old basic tricks. Although there's the option of materializing briefly to cause more mischief, it took way too much power to maintain a physical form so at most, he would only be able to have fun messing with one or two souls but not nearly having enough time to really string them along to his heart's content. After all, the thrill of being a demon comes from withering down their prey, dragging them so deep into depravity before they realize it's too late and there's no saving them.

He sighs inwardly, thinking about all the lost potential, especially now that he's in possession of such a fine specimen. How delightful it would be to see the lengths men and women would go to hold onto even a sliver of his attention, to have them so tightly wound around his fingers just to leave them high and dry. Truly, this was the pain of having a great weapon but being unable to use it.

It makes Jungkook consider how more convenient it would be if he had formed contract with someone, similar to what Jimin had done.

Speaking of, he wonders what had become of you and his fellow demon brother, as the last he's heard of either one of you, one was on a war path while the other's aura signature was reduced so greatly that he didn't need to make much of an effort to be scarce. As much as he's tempted to go find out what's become of you both, Jungkook had to hold himself back. He's told himself that after directing you to your lost guardian demon (as you had practically begged him to do), he's vowed to severe his involvement if he knew what was good for him.

Things were obviously only going to get messier, and no doubt he would be catching any of the fallout if he decides to stick around, even if it's just to satisfy his own burning curiousities.

Jungkook continues to wander aimlessly like this, thoughts bouncing from the matters surrounding you pair to toying with the idea of actually finding some hidden cult who's ballsy enough to try a demon summoning (nine times out of ten it's a shoddy job but fuck is it funny to see their faces thinking it had worked, plus he's guaranteed a couple of souls to his count too).

Above, the sun dips in and out continuously, the constant shift in light distracting Jungkook. He watches and notes idly the fast pace in which the clouds travel, how the white wisps grow and the sky begins to look tumultuous until gradually, they become so dense they completely block the sun out altogether. With the warm rays no longer casting down, the world plunges into a gloomy grey overcast.

A frown tugs onto his lips unconsciously, but the premonition of rain was not what troubled him.

He had the mind to quicken his steps when suddenly they falter. It felt like something had told him to stop, so for a moment he stood confused, turning his head in search for a source until Jungkook's gaze stray over to a small, narrow side street. The street looked like a much older part of the city in the style of the buildings; he can't honestly say he's ever noticed this part before so for it to catch his attention....

Jungkook is already taking tentative steps down the rough cobble stone path without realizing, slowly making his way past the few small family owned shops. He's going off solely on this gut-feeling, almost as if in a trance which after blinking, does he notice he's staring at a particular store front of a shop. His brows furrow even more from confusion, not understanding why he was drawn here.

The shop looked like it hadn't been rented out for many years, the paint so worn down and faded that it didn't resemble the rich forest green colour it once was, even peeling in some places to show the wood underneath. The lacquered sign above has also lost its shine, and whatever script that has been written on it has long become indecipherable. Jungkook had to squint just to make out the faint imprint of the letters 'S' and what he thinks might be 'P' and a 'TH'.

Despite the windows being dirtied, he could still tell that inside the shop was nothing but barren space, the wall shelves filled with dust and cobwebs, the tables empty with only traces of the trinkets it once held. Time had let this place be forgotten, erased its name from existing in any memory, yet it's here Jungkook finds himself lingering, wondering why?

What secrets does this place hold?

Naturally, he can't let this anomaly go lest he drives himself mad. Jungkook takes a step towards the shop, a hand outstretched with the intentions of investigating further when from out of his peripheral he sees something. Whipping his head to it, his eyes lock onto a figure standing at the head of the street from where he had came.

The inexplainable driving force he had immediately vanishes, replaced with the sensation of his body going numb all over, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on ends. Not like the presence of this ominous figure on its own incited such a reaction, but it's also in the way it looked.

Tall in such a way that it's imposing, and draped in a pure white cloak, giving away nothing of what lies beneath. The only feature he's able to make out was the golden halo crown encircling it from behind; a stark contrast. There's no questioning whether or not it can be seen by anyone other than himself – this appearance alone clearly did not belong in this world.

It is not of this world.

Jungkook needed to remain calm. He can't afford to let slip that he's unnerved – that's a sure fire way to getting killed first because fear ultimately blinds. Still, he can't stop the tenseness in his shoulders and the ache comes back with a vengeance. Swallowing, Jungkook inhales and jaw clenched, he turns to leave as if having never seen this phantom at all.

His strides are long, determined to put distance between it and himself, all the while his senses are going into overdrive. He's hyper-aware as he swiftly makes his way through narrow streets and alleys, twisting and turning with no rhyme or reason but he already knows he won't be losing this unwanted tail any time soon. So he changes tactics, figuring that he might as well get the jump on it first before giving it the opportunity.

Jungkook apparates out of the alley, appearing in a busy crowded street and just as fast, he changes to a rooftop. Within these few short seconds, he spins on his heels, gathering a fistful of demonic energy in his hand ready to hurl it the moment he sees any hint of white cloth, body instinctively adapting a fighting stance. However, as his piercing topaz eyes dart around, he finds nothing.

The air around him is still, like the overpowering presence had all but disappeared. Down below, he faintly hears the bustling of people, the sound of cars driving by, even now he becomes aware of how hard he's breathing, the adrenaline pumping through his veins has his heart racing.

Still, Jungkook doesn't dare drop his guard, backing away cautiously as if he's on pins and needles. He's focusing all of his senses, trying to pick up anything that might seem strange over the white noise of the city. He listens, until it all goes eerily quiet.

 Jungkook sees before he can react, its speed far more faster than he could have ever anticipated, and all he manages is a sharp, startled gasp. The rest of the air gets blocked by an iron grip around his throat but even then, he's given no time to fully register this as he feels his back crashing into a hard surface with impeccable force and an explosive pain erupts. He chokes on a mouthful of blood.

“Filthy vermin should not waste time struggling so uselessly.”

Jungkook winces, nauseated by the throbbing of his head alone – now he has this voice that seems to be ringing from inside his head.

“The fate of thy life depends on the answer thee giveth me.” The hold tightens and Jungkook swears his neck would give out before he's able to make a sound (how very counter-productive, he thinks in spite of himself).

“Where is he?”

Struggling through the black dots in his vision, Jungkook finally pinpoints the identity of his aggressor. The dry laugh he wanted to let out comes out as a cough but it carries the disbelief and scorn all the same.

White cloak, oppressing aura, immense strength and speed, and a voice that sounded neither man nor woman. There's no mistaken it now.

Fuck, since when was his luck so shit that an archangel finds him first?

-

The clouds had rolled in much faster than Jimin had thought, the sight reminiscent to being under murky waters. He wonders if at this rate, it would darken even further though he supposes he shouldn't bother. After all, this was no mere storm out of the blue.

He raises the cup and takes a sip of his black coffee, closing his eyes as if to savour the bitterness. Jimin doesn't bother to finish the rest of it, even if it's a waste not to. But there's no helping it, not when he was expecting a visitor. He gingerly places the drink aside on the counter first, then redirects his gaze to the large expanse of his windows at a leisurely pace.

There's not a hint of shock as his eyes meet the figure cloaked in white, hovering on the other side of the glass panels. The layers of chiffon flutter softly against the rising winds, the golden glint of each spike on the crown adorning its head menacing, as if it's a weapon in and of itself.

Behind, the sky darkens forbiddingly, and soon after comes the distant rumbling of thunder.

[soul-write]

The Birth of the Twin Deities - Sev & Lev

Notes: I'm finally back with some content. I've been working on a new wip lately. This story takes place in the universe of that wip but focuses on a particular story about the deities of the world. Hope you enjoy it ^^

TW: vague description of body horror for a few sentences

--------------------------

Sadall was hit with a deep urge to sleep as soon as she woke up. To others, this may seem worrying. Maybe they will go to a doctor to get it checked out. But for the god of fate and prophecies, this was just another day doing her job.

Shuffling around in her bed to find a new comfortable position, Sadall fell once again into a deep slumber. She didn't expect to see any interesting prophecies. Just simple, mundane ones she will pass onto her priests.

In her dream, Sadall was standing somewhere on the ground. The land was black and barren and the sky was a bright shade of orange-red. Everything looked right out of anyone's worst nightmare. This couldn't be a prophecy of the future!

"It is." A raspy voice said from behind her. When she turned around, she saw the tall form of Kovreb, the god of sun and moon. Their face, despite lacking facial features, was staring right at Sadall. They looked angry.

"How? Why?" Sadall questioned the deity before her. They knew more than she did in this situation. But Kovreb didn't say anything. They just stared right ahead, hands crossed behind their back. Sadall was getting impatient. "Kovreb, this isn't a game, this is a serious matter. If you won't help me, I'll go find someone else who will!"

"Everyone else is dead." Kovreb said nonchalantly. Sadall was speechless. 'So this really is an end of the world scenario' she thought to herself.

Kovreb continued talking. "My friends, my family, all the other deities, they forgot about me thousands of years ago. It's easy to forget someone stranded in the skies." They stopped for a few seconds and lifted the palms of their hands towards Sadall. "So I punished them by taking away their precious sun and moon." Their hands were covered in blood. Where the eye that represented the sun and the one that represented the moon used to be now was just a bleeding wound.

"You did all these because you were lonely?" Sadall whispered. She was confused. This was a very unlike Kovreb thing to do.

They chuckled. "You'll be surprised to see what loneliness can make of a person."

"You're not a person, you're a deity.

"This is the kind of flawed logic that caused all this!" They yelled, waving their hands at the crumbling world around them.

Before Sadall could say anything else, she woke up. She quickly got out her bed and pulled the long curtains from the window closest to her. Outside, the world was normal. No withering grounds. No orange red sky. She sighed in relief.

"Just a bad dream." She wanted to say, only she knew she didn't have normal dreams like the rest of the world had. For fucks sake, she was the god of prophecies! As terrifying as it may have been, what she just saw was the future. Or at least a possible future.

Look, Sadall wasn't generally one to mess with fate. If she started preventing all the little bad things that could happen, this could lead to terrible unpredictable stuff. But the possible destruction of the world by a fellow deity was a situation where normal rules didn't apply.

Sadall spent the next few days trying to figure out a solution. She couldn't just go and tell the other deities about the prophecy. They were unpredictable when it came to prophecies. She also couldn't just go and tell them to keep checking on Kovreb, that would raise suspicions. No, she needed a safe yet permanent solution.

She needed another deity stranded in the skies.

Ok, maybe it wasn't the best plan in the world. But it was foolproof! At least that's what she hoped…

After more days of considering what deity could logically be stranded in the skies, the night sky gave her the answer - the stars. There was no god of stars, Kovreb also taking care of them. It would make sense to create a new deity to help them.

Sadall grabbed a fresh piece of parchment paper, some white thread and a dragon bone sewing needle. Then she exited her chambers into a small garden. It was night outside - perfect for her plans. She carefully scooped a star from the black sky and gently laid it in the middle of the parchment paper. She then took the white thread and the bone needle and sewed the corners of the paper together to make a little bag. While softly chanting old prayers about the creation of the world, she stabbed the star through the parchment paper bag.

"Fate, you who control everything and all, allow me to fix the mistakes that we will make and change the future. Fate, you mighty power above us all, give life to the deity who will help us."

A blinding blue light surrounded the creation in Sadall's hands. She slowly put it on the ground and let the new deity be born. Only it wasn't one deity that emerged from the light - it was two. Two twin deities, one with stars caught in his hair and one with ink staining his fingertips.

To say she was surprised was an understatement. But fate worked in mysterious ways. "Sev, god of stars, and Lev, god of legends and stories, welcome to the world!" Sadall said with a smile.

-----

"So, let me get this straight." Kovreb said, one eye facing Sev and one facing Sadall. "Out of nowhere, you decided I need help with my job, a job I've been doing since the birth of the world. So you created a brand new deity? Without telling anyone else?"

"Technically two deities." Sev chimed in.

"Right, kiddo! Two deities! Sadall, I cannot understand your reasoning."

"Can't a deity help another deity just because?" She was trying to play it cool but miserably failing. Sadall didn't expect she would be questioned.

"Not without something in return."

"Kovreb-"

"Sev, can you go check on the stars? They seem to be very curious about you. Won't stop bothering me with questions"

"Sure thing, boss!" He said before leaving the older deities alone.

"Sadall, speak!"

"I just thought you may get lonely here and I wanted to help. Plus I can already see you like Sev!"

"I am a deity, not a person. Feelings like loneliness don't affect me."

"You can be a deity and a person." Sadall said, reminiscent of the Kovreb from her dream. "Now! Enough talking! Go train your new student! I gotta go to sleep."

[greenygreenland]

Wannabe Part 12: A Bone To Pick

-gosh, i really need to stay consistent with this -i've been having a rough few weeks guys, sorry -this chapter feels kind of slow to me, but I promise it's still interesting! i'm trying to delve deeper into how your character will develop in this story (if you have any recommendations or ideas/critique, feel free to comment below!) PART 11

'𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐬 𝐰𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫, 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲...' -𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫, 𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐝 & 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞

It was dark. Not a single sliver of light passed through the veil of nothing, shrouding (Y/n) in nothing but inky black. Somewhere, far away in that nothing, came a bird's cry. (Y/n) wanted to run towards it, and to grasp the comfort of not being alone in the abyss, but she couldn't move. Her limbs were glued in place while her head filled with the yearning want to sleep. Her mind told her to get up and run yet her body refused to obey. 

"(Y/n)..."

She was falling deep into the abyss, floating downwards and through thick mist. Her eyes flicked shut and her senses slowly numbed. 

"...is this what you want...?"

Yes, she thought. Here, she couldn't feel any pain or sorrow, or virtually anything. It was as if she were never a Jedi to begin with. Even though she hadn't the faintest idea about what was happening, she didn't want to fight the darkness consuming her whole. It was almost nice to not have to think about anything. No responsibilities. No fighting. Just her and the inky black of space.

"...do you truly believe that?"

(Y/n)'s mind came to, but her senses were off. The feeling returned to her fingers and all the numbness in her limbs crawled away, yet she couldn't seem to sense anything in the abyss. In fact, there was nothing there to sense. She opened her eyes and found herself standing on air. From the shadows, a woman emerged, head held high and eyes calmer than any pond or lake she had every seen. Her lekku swayed as the darkness parted around her long, brown robes. The long, white markings on her lekku were almost like lanterns in the dark. "Come with me," she said. "I will take you to a place where there is no pain, no suffering, and no sorrow." The woman held out a hand with a gentle smile.

(Y/n) didn't know what she was doing as she crept towards the woman. There was something so familiar about her that she couldn't place, something so close to the back of her mind that she tried so hard to remember. (Y/n) hesitantly grabbed her hand. There was a brilliant flash of light that tore away the darkness. The abyss of nothing morphed into a brilliant space of purples and blacks mixed in with shining stars and constellations. "Wha...who...?"

The woman warmly smiled and guided (Y/n) through the spectacular space. Images and scenes swirled in the stars, enlarging into bright display screens. Some were of (Y/n) laughing with her men, others with Fives and the cadets back on Kamino. There was a particular one that made (Y/n) let go of the woman's hand and pause in her step. In the screen was a scene of her walking through the front doors of the temple. Her master said something before patting (Y/n) on the back and leading her inside with a smile. 

That was when (Y/n) whipped around to face the woman behind her. This was no woman, but her master, the one who cared and practically raised (Y/n) for so long. Shaak had seen her wane and wax like the moons and watched her grow to learn so much. She was the mother (Y/n) never knew she needed. Shaak smiled. "I see you are becoming conscious again. May I ask what made you so keen on giving up?" (Y/n) ran a hand through her hair with a passive shrug. "I don't know."

"Is that all?" she lightly inquired. "'I don't know'? Surely you can do better." (Y/n) knitted her brows together. "What do you mean?"

"You are ignoring your true feelings. Although you fight and keep your ground, your heart tells you to run." (Y/n) didn't understand. She never ran away; not in a battle, not from her friends, not from anyone. She was a Jedi, a peacekeeper among many who were supposed to keep the balance. Supposed to. (Y/n) frowned. So what if the Council weren't very good at their job? So what if they were probably part of the reason she was kidnapped? So what if they weren't as wise as they should have? That was then, this was now. (Y/n) refused to be like them, and that made her different. She didn't run away, she accepted who she was, she understood that empathy was needed to be who she--

"You run from the truth." Shaak finally said. Her gaze was distant as (Y/n) looked up. "In time, you will have to decide."

The shining stars and constellations began to fade into thin air as Shaak gently placed her transparent hands on (Y/n)'s shoulders. "The time will come when you must make a decision. Whatever you choose, remember that I will always be proud of you." There was a gust of breeze that seemed to fuel (Y/n)'s confusion. Her emotions, stable only moments ago, were bursting at the seams and yanking at her heart strings once again. She broke into a sprint, running as fast as her legs could take her. "Master!" she cried. "Please! Don't leave me!" 

(Y/n) knew she was gone. Her presence had long been carried away by the wind, yet (Y/n) just couldn't give up like that. She couldn't let go. "Please...don't...don't leave me too."

---

The blinding lights were brighter than a flaming asteroid. (Y/n) slapped a hand over her eyes and sat up fast enough to make her dizzy. "Take it easy will ya?" said Luke. (Y/n) rubbed her eyes and squinted around the gray room. This was definitely not the ship. There were no doors or steam popping out of the floors or any yelling about 'stormtroopers' and the 'empire'. Instead, smack to the side of the room, stood a medical droid. It treated a sick patient as Luke made his way into the vast room. "How are you feeling? You've been asleep since we escaped the Death Star." 

(Y/n) sat up. "Since the what?" Luke blinked with a shy chuckle. "Oh right." he mumbled. "The Death Star was that space station we were on. And if you're wondering, we're on Yavin Four, in the Rebel Base." 

"Rebels...? Uh..." 

(Y/n) spotted Leia in the doorway of the med bay. She smiled at (Y/n) and immediately appeared at her bedside. "I'm so glad you're awake," said Leia. "How are you feeling?" 

"I am well, thank you Leia. May I ask what exactly is going on in," (Y/n) made a gesture with her hand, "here?" Leia pulled up a seat by her bedside. "I'll give you a quick overview." She began with the end of the Clone Wars, then the terrifying story of the Jedi Purge and the Rise of the Empire. She spoke of her adoptive father, Bail Organa (a man (Y/n) so happened to know quite well through Padme), as well as the emergence of the Rebel Base. At the end of it, a bitterness rose in (Y/n)'s gut. It was that same feeling of guilt and regret she felt the day Fives died. It was an uncomfortable sinking feeling that kept telling her she was a failure, and although hard to admit, absolutely true.

(Y/n) Kryze failed at the one thing every Jedi was supposed to dedicate their whole lives to: keeping the peace.

Wonderful, thought (Y/n). All the Jedi practically ceased to exist, save for her and those who actually did survive the 'purge'. Not only that, but she slept through the making of history. (Y/n) glanced at Luke, eyeing him up and down curiously. His energy was strong and powerful, and it was filled with light that made (Y/n) feel so comfortable in his presence. She didn't know him all too well, yet felt an odd connection with his energy. "You are a Jedi," she said. "Like me and those before."

"Old Ben told me my father was a Jedi." (Y/n) knitted her brows together. "Old Ben?"

"Obi-wan Kenobi. He was the one who...died on the Death Star." Luke clarified. "Did you know him?" (Y/n) smiled fondly. "Yes. He was the one who found me on Mandalore. I was," (Y/n) paused, "three or four around that time. He was a wonderful man, but he did not become my master. Besides that, you said your father was a Jedi? That should not have been possible because it is against the..." 

(Y/n)'s breath caught in her throat, and all the dots connected themselves on their own: the bright, blue eyes full of wonder aiming towards the galaxy, the excitement and energy in personality and aura, and lastly, the hair. "Anakin's the father, isn't he." she blurted out. Luke's eyes shot open.

"You knew my father?" 

"You knew Luke's father?" 

(Y/n) nodded. "Yes, I knew him. He was like a brother to me. Is your mother--?"

"What was my father like?" Luke excitedly cut in.

The smile softened on (Y/n)'s lips as she averted her gaze to the large window on the right wall. She focused on the star fighters and people rushing about, then to the deep forest covered in thick, milky fog. She savoured the upbeat energy radiating the one thing she wasn't sure she could hold fast to: hope. "Ani was one of the greatest Jedi I had ever seen. He taught me how to pilot and do a lot of practical things I wouldn't have known if I hadn't met him. Although he was a smart man, what surprised people most was how kind he was. He was passionate, and a bit unpredictable, but I...I trust him with my life."

(Y/n) knew she was saying that to comfort herself. 

"Anakin is my childhood friend. I'd do anything to for him because I know he would do the same for me." Leia adjusted the sleeves on her dress with an uncertain gleam in her eyes. She looked like she wanted to say something, but a forced smile broke out onto her face and she nodded in understanding. "You two must have been close." 

"He was the brother I never had." 

"What's all this about a brother you never had?" 

(Y/n) peered towards the threshold, where Han stood leaning against the half-open door. There was a smug smirk on his lips as he waltzed over to (Y/n)'s bedside, arms loosely folded across his chest. "I heard the Princess and Luke were in here, so I thought I might as well stop by. Did I miss anything?" Luke sarcastically chuckled. "No, besides the fact that (Y/n) knew my father and was asleep in a stasis pod for about two decades--oh, and don't forget the fact that she's Mandalorian!"

(Y/n) didn't expect Luke to be so excited about all the information she dumped on him, but then again, who wouldn't when it's about their own father? (Y/n) would have loved to hear about what her own father was like, or who he even was for that matter. Han looked taken aback. His brows raised so high that they could have flown away. "You're Mandalorian?" 

"Yes."

"I did not see that coming." He breathed out a long, hollow sigh. "Did not see that coming." (Y/n)'s lips curved into a small smile. "I wouldn't have known either if Obi-wan hadn't told me." Luke knitted his brows in confusion, so (Y/n) took it upon herself to explain. "I grew up with little memory of my home planet. Obi-wan wanted to keep it that way because of all the prejudice surrounding Mandalorians. We are known for not being...the faint of heart, so when I kept pestering him about it, he decided it was time. The other younglings overheard, and ever since then, I was the odd one out. They bullied me, but that is not the point." 

Han took refuge against a wall to lean on. "Seems kinda harsh for just being Mandalorian." he grumbled. Luke nodded in agreement. "Yeah, what's so bad about being Mandalorian? I think that's awesome. Better than being a farmer on Tatooine." Leia sent the two boys a pointed look. "You both really don't know anything about history. Mandalore battled with the Jedi long ago, don't you know? It resulted in a lot of death and prejudice." Her eyes were soft as she met (Y/n)'s. "It seems you really took the brunt of the hit." 

"I did," (Y/n) agreed. "Besides that, what do you plan to do about the 'Death Star' and the 'Empire'? Surely you've developed a successful plan?" Leia shifted in her chair, pausing in thought. "Our plan is to blow that space station up and put an end to the Empire, but it's risky, and if it fails, we might as well kiss the Rebellion goodbye. I've seen what it's done--it blew up my home planet to pieces. We only have one shot, so it's imperative we keep everything running smoothly.

"The station is heavily shielded and carries a firepower greater than half a starfleet, so from this information, we've assumed that a small group of starfighters should, in theory, be able to penetrate its outer defence. I've analysed the plans and found a narrow lane large enough to fit a few fighters. Once they get to the thermal exhaust, if they blast it in the right direction it should reach the main reactor and blow the whole thing up." (Y/n) folded her hands together in thought. "How big is the thermal exhaust point?"

"Two meters."

She nodded her head in thought. (Y/n) had a fair amount of tough missions to accomplish in the past, this being no different. Since her master was specifically assigned to Kamino, (Y/n) had a lot of solo missions since the Republic needed people on the field. As unorthodox as it was, (Y/n) didn't mind. She had her men to keep her company, all of which were wonderful people. "That sounds like a tough one." she mumbled.

The Empire ruled the galaxy with an iron fist; they grew from the ashes of the Jedi's demise and forged a false peace between systems. From what (Y/n)'s seen and heard, they were a force to be reckoned with, and much more dangerous than the Separatists because of their tight grip upon the galaxy. (Y/n) was a peacekeeper, sure, but that didn't mean she wanted to sit around and wait. She had the skills of an experienced pilot that would go to waste if she didn't help.

There was a sense of doubt in the back of her mind. She wasn't sure if she truly knew what she was getting herself into, especially since she wasn't certain if all the information said by Leia was true. "Who is the leader of the Empire?"

"The Emperor Palpatine." Luke answered. (Y/n) ripped off the sheets and got onto her feet. Simply hearing that name made her blood boil. She had unfinished business with the man, and she was more than willing to arrest him once and for all. "In that case," she stood tall, "I'm in." Leia stood by her side, the excitement in her aura bubbling like a mug cake in a microwave. "You're not the first Jedi to join. Come on, I'll get you some new clothes." Han pushed off the wall with wide eyes. "You're actually joining Space Wizard?"

(Y/n) firmly nodded. "I have a bone to pick with Palpatine. He did something I will not ever forgive." Luke knitted his brows together. "You know him too?" 

"Oh yes." There was a dark gleam in her eyes. "He tried to kill me and my best friend."

NEXT CHAPTER

[nightsky-wonderer]

The Curious Case of Comets

Comets.  Fascinating dirty snowballs in space.  The apparent symbol for the Dark Kingdom, suspected hidden power source of Varian’s, and possible origin of the Dark Kingdom’s opal.  Here, I share some cool info about why these celestial bodies are so interesting, as well as a fun, personal insight how our favourite alchemist may parallel them in some ways; possible support for the Comet!Varian Theory?

 (Whoever came up with this theory first, I wish to credit you!)

UPDATE 1.1 few fixes and new thoughts.  Probably more after tent-pole episode

Part 1: The Science (Sources: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12)

 - Comets are small celestial bodies composed of ice, dust and rock.  Also contains multiple forms of organic compounds and gasses (e.g. carbon dioxide, amino acids, methane, ammonia, etc.)

- Observational studies, such as the splitting of comet Shoemaker-Levy 9 and 73P/Schwassmann-Wachmann, and space missions (e.g. Deep Impact, Rosetta), help suggest that comets are very fragile objects!  Some of the suspected mechanisms behind splitting nuclei include tidal splitting, direct impact, thermal stress, and internal gas pressure (more about splitting mechanisms here).  The internal structure, however, is a topic still left up for debate. 

- Comets start out dark and frozen in deep space.  Upon reaching the inner solar system, they begin to heat up, outgas, and brighten.  The sublimated gasses form an ‘atmosphere’ around the nucleus called the Coma.  Eventually, the comet forms two tails.  The Ion (or Gas) Tail is a result of ionized (removal of electrons) molecules from the coma, and is pulled away by solar wind along magnetic field lines.  They appear narrow and blue in colour, and always point straight, away from the sun.  The Dust Tail appears long and curved, and also is influenced by solar wind.

- If the Coma is mostly composed of Cyanogen (CN) and/or Diatomic Carbon (C2), UV Radiation will cause these gasses in the Coma to glow green or teal (blue-green).  Examples of comets that appeared this way: Comet Hyakutake (1996), 109P/Swift-Tuttle, 2P/Encke, C/2014 Q2 Lovejoy.

- Some observers use the teal/green colour as an indicator that the comet is in an active phase, where experiencing outbursts are high, and that parts of its nucleus is more vulnerable to splitting apart!  Such events, however, are rare.

- There are currently 3,564 comets observed and named, but only a small fraction become naked eye visibility, with even less receiving the title of Great Comet (Those that become exceptionally bright!  e.g. Comet Hale-Bopp in 1997).  There are possibly trillions beyond the orbit of Neptune waiting to be discovered!

- Comets travel in highly elliptical orbits, each one varying in time to make one revolution.  Short Period comets (e.g. Halley’s Comet) originate from the Kuiper belt, and are guaranteed to return within 200 years.  Long Period comets (e.g. Hale-Bopp) take much longer and may not return for thousands of years!  They sometimes appear as the most spectacular to view, due to its abundance of volatiles from their minimal visits to the solar system.  Can be found in the Oort Cloud.  Sungrazers get very close to the sun upon perihelion (closest distance from sun).  They usually evaporate away if they have a small mass.  However, there are a rare few that actually survive the trip.

- More frequent visits to the solar system results in more of the comet’s volatiles and contents getting lost, eventually leaving a rocky core behind!

- Scientific theories portray comets as both the destroyers (e.g. younger dryas), and the creators of life (e.g. emergence of life billions of years ago).

Part 2: Legends and Superstitions (Sources: 1, 2)

- Due to their unpredictable natures and appearances, many ancient cultures saw comets as a message from their gods, and an omen for impending disasters and negative superstitions.

- Ancient legends also helped fuel this negative association with comets (e.g. The Babylonian “Epic of Gilgamesh” describing about floods and fire once a comet arrives).

- They were also blamed for some of history’s darkest moments (e.g. Julius Caesar’s death, the Black Death in England)

- Cause of scares: When Halley’s Comet returned in 1910, a rumour spread about a poisonous gas being emitted from the comet.  People rushed to grab gas masks and other innovative objects, such as ‘anti-comet’ umbrellas, to help them avoid the supposed danger.

- Natal chart superstition: If comets are present within a person’s natal chart at birth, the person “could be an innovative thinker, and could be associated with shocks, too.  These people may carry out actions to release or may have an overwhelming influence over large groups.  Their attitude and traits may be unpredictable.”(Rod Chang, 2014)

Fun Facts:

- The word, Comet, comes from the Greek word, komētēs, meaning “long-haired (star)”. The Icelandic word, halastjarna, translates as “tail star”, which the Chinese referring to them “long-tailed pheasant stars”, “broom stars,” and “vile stars”.

- Asteroid 2015 TB145, theorized to be an extinct comet, looks just like a skull!

- Just for fun - Colour Scheme: Black nucleus, Blue ion tail, Grey/Yellowish-White dust tail, sometimes Teal/Green Coma.

- Debris left behind by comets are responsible for some of Earth’s annual meteor showers! (e.g. Perseids, Orionids, Leonids)

Connections/Parallels with Varian

Now finally, for the fun part.  

First of all, the Moon theory, created by @ghosta-r , is great! Really well-analysed and has strong evidence (also, please read @nyxglitch ‘s post, it’s very well-done!).   However, there is still that feeling where Canon appears to be bringing lunar symbolism towards a different direction, or a different character. Assuming the hints from “Vigor the Visionary” are pointing towards the Dark Prince theory (created by @forever-tangledup), it may be the crew wish to present the sun/moon relationship in a more romantic direction. There is a chance, however, one or two theories end up being true, or none at all in the end, but it does not stop the fun of speculation before they’re officially debunked!

Keep note, these are just my opinions, and fun personal take on Varian’s potential comet parallels, and you are free to disagree with them.

1. Omens for disaster: 

A.) This one, I felt, was pretty obvious.  Varian has been labeled “a dangerous wizard” in “What the hair”, and in the second half of season 1, was being labelled as “dangerous” in general.  It seems that both Varian and comets are the go-to things to place blame for negative superstition.  However, Varian did rightfully earn his first title for his unpredictable experiments-gone-wrong. 

B.) Interestingly, this negative reputation shares a similar parallel with opals being associated with “bad luck” and other superstitions.

2. Colour palette:  

A.)  From the colours identified, I feel that a majority, more specifically, ¾ colours match up with Varian (Blue, Black, Teal). I do admit, however, that the colours of his shirt and hair stripe can be very tricky to the eyes sometimes.  In some scenes, it appears blue, while in others, it appears greener; I even had trouble deciding which colours to use while making my cosplay.  On the other hand, I think it may be safe to say that the colours are more in the blue-green region.

B.)  The yellowish-white colours appear more prominently when the comet has released enough gas and dust to reflect the sun’s light, usually when it is getting close to perihelion.  This tends to dull out the teal colours of the coma most times.  

C.)  Most of us would probably not be familiar with green comets; Most of the Great Comets talked about in the news are white and bright, and this is due to its close approach to the sun and/or the size of its nucleus (with the exception of Hyakutake, which was small, but made a very close approach to earth). A majority of comets are much fainter, and barely make it to impressive naked eye visibility, thus don’t make the headlines as much.

3. Messenger of the gods: Ok, deities are not really presented, nor do they play much of a role in the series, so this may be a weak point.  However, the first thing that came into my mind was Varian’s appearances in Rapunzel’s nightmares.  More specifically, the one where Varian delivers the message to “face [her] destiny” or all will be lost.  I suppose in a metaphorical sense, the rocks (the gods) send Varian (the messenger/comet) to deliver Rapunzel an important message.

4. Elliptical orbits (one that will be difficult to explain :p):  

A.)  @mycove has mentioned in a recent post that the comet’s elliptical orbit describes Varian’s relationship with Rapunzel and her friends: sometimes far, sometimes close.  Everyone started out as friends in the beginning, but as season 1 came to an end, Varian became very cold and distant from the group.

B.)  Comets remain dark and invisible until they reach a certain distance within the inner solar system, where they increasingly receive solar energy to finally shine.  This is similar to what @nyxglitch described Varian and the Moon in their post: “small and insignificant… also cold and duels in the night, yet needs the sun in order to shine, otherwise it is eclipsed and left in the dark.”  Almost every object in the solar system needs the sun to shine light on them in order to make a noticeable appearance in the night sky.  In terms of plot, Varian’s biggest relevance and actions, being a plot device, occur when he is more involved with Rapunzel (the sun).

C.)  Assuming the comet’s brightness can also symbolize Varian’s actions and influence, the more he interacted with Rapunzel, the more said actions and influence became more noticeable and felt in Corona.  Just like how as a comet became brighter, the more noticeable it became to display both its beauty and its horrors upon mankind. 

D.)  As comets lose more of themselves with each return to the inner solar system, Varian appears to be losing more of himself (his sanity) with each progressing encounter with Rapunzel, notably in the second half of season 1.

5. Fragile Nucleus

A.)   It’s no surprise that Varian is fragile, being presented to be very prone to accidents and injuries. He even suffered a mental breakdown by SOTSD.

B.)  Comets release more gas and dust, and become brighter as it approaches the sun.  But at what cost? Comets experience outbursts that may contribute to self-fragmentation; some end up evaporating completely if they get too close to the sun, and all sorts of other things happen to them that result in the comet losing its volatiles, weakening its structure, and even end up being destroyed completely.  Similar to point D for Elliptical Orbit, Varian’s actions in Corona progressively became very noticeable and felt as he continued to react to Rapunzel’s light, but at the same time, the price of doing so results in his own self-destruction.

6. Natal Chart Superstition: I feel as if these words described Varian very well. Even though natal charts have no involvement in the series, it’s fun to think if his personality is playing along the lines or referencing this superstition.

7. What the hair?! *Literally*

A.) In the Moon Theory, Varian’s hair stripe can be seen as a crescent moon on one side.  In terms of this theory, it could also be seen as a teal-coloured comet streaming across the night sky.  The pointiest part of the stripe is the nucleus, then the rest left/upward from it curves and streams out like it’s tail!

B.) Comets appear to have their longest and curviest tails around perihelion, aka the point they’re most vulnerable to evaporate.  This could be visual foreshadowing (get too close to the sun, and you’ll burn!). 

Overall, I am excited to see how the series concludes regardless of whatever theory is confirmed; I’m sure whatever the crew has up their sleeves, it will be satisfying.

[stories-in-the-stars]

The Fallen and the Wandering

We’ve done it lads, we’ve finished the story before season 8. It was a close thing, but here we are. Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read this story, and a special thanks to @rendevok and @stellalights for not only being wonderful betas but also sitting through the mess of the first draft of this story. I am not exaggerating when I say this story quite literally would not exist without them.

As always, please check the reblogs for links to Ao3.

~*~

Chapter 12

It started, as these things often do, with a dream.

Not any dream of Keith’s, nor any of the planets or moons or any star, though they saw it all the same. It was not nearly as old as any of them either, but it was just as powerful, if not more. No one could say who dreamed it first. After all, whoever dreamed it was so small compared to everything that surrounded the planets, smaller even than the planets themselves. As it was, before the dream was dreamed, the planets were unaware of anything, so even if they had wanted to pay particular attention to the curious beings that populated a pale blue dot in their system, they couldn’t. For this was the dream that breathed life into them.

Yes, it was the stories of humans that gave sentience to the planets. The belief of humans was a powerful thing, and from the moment they could think to cast their eyes skywards, they told stories of the things they saw in the sky. The stories spread far and wide, even into the skies themselves.

First were the stories of the sun and moon, those familiar faces in their beloved dance across the sky. The sun, which warmed the earth and gave life to everything that humans knew, became synonymous with good health and vitality. It was gentle, but powerful, and above all demanded to be seen. Being the brightest object in the sky naturally accorded a certain level of importance. Such importance to humans was perhaps matched only by the moon, who seemed the opposite of the sun in every way. In fact, the moon was only sometimes opposite the sun, when it was shrouded in complete darkness, mysterious and retiring. Other times it shined brightly in the night, vivid and beautiful. Most importantly, the moon controlled the tides that so many lives had come to depend on. Indeed, the sun and the moon were a natural match.

When the sun and the moon opened their eyes upon the humans, and on each other, they found love, and what a curious and powerful thing that was to them. Unlike the humans they so intently watched, however, there was nothing that could be done about their love. The sun could not grant it’s own wish, and the wish of the moon alone was not enough to bring them together. As such, their love stretched across the emptiness for centuries, while the humans dreamed of ever more stories.

(Quiet laughter echoed among the stars, and Keith saw Lance and Allura, looking younger than they did now, swinging their joined hands in a long, wild arc. In their eyes glimmered a love that belied their years. No one else could be seen.)

Next came Mercury, closest to the sun. Mercury was the fastest traveller among the stars, a wonder to watch. When the stories humans dreamed breathed life into Mercury, the eyes that opened on the world were sharp and perceptive. Mercury became eager to point out everything to the sun it hovered so close to, for while the sun saw things in a bright light, Mercury was quick to see the flipside.

“Why would you want to be among humans?” Mercury would insist from one side.

“It would be fun,” said the sun by the time Mercury had reached the other side.

Mercury swooped around. “Fun? Humans will hurt you. And who’s to say you wouldn’t hurt them back?”

“Aren’t you at least curious?” the sun questioned as Mercury moved yet again to another side. “What if, ultimately, humans are good? After all, it’s because of them that we’re like this now. Are you saying you don’t like this?”

In the end, Mercury agreed to wish to go, if only because it was determined to watch over this naive star it had been stuck with. Someone would certainly take advantage of the sun if it ever got it’s wish, and Mercury was intent that it should not happen, not while they were nearby.

(“Lance, you’ve been mooning over this guy for how long now? All he does is push you away, he’s no good for you,” Veronica could be heard insisting.

She and Lance were separated by a counter, having a meal together it seemed. Lance had been grinning like a lovestruck fool until then, when Veronica said that whoever he was stuck on wasn’t good for him.

“You haven’t met him,” Lance argued. “He cares a lot more than he lets on. About everything, I’d say.”

“Maybe he does, maybe he doesn’t, but it sounds like he chooses to act like he doesn’t care, or when he does, it’s way too much. How could you possibly like a guy like that?”

Lance took on a thoughtful expression at that, his eyes misting over with fondness. “I guess… I don’t know, he’s just inherently amazing. He’s good at everything he does, but he also works hard, sometimes too hard in my opinion, and he just inspires me to do better--”

Veronica held up a hand to stop him. “Alright, alright, I get it, but when he inevitably breaks your heart, don’t come crying to me.”)

(Keith felt his gut twist with guilt.)

(The dream continued in spite of his reluctance.)

After that came Venus, as lovely as the moon and twice as romantic, as far as humans were concerned. In the beginning, however, Venus did not look for romance. Venus looked for other kinds of love, the love that was overlooked by so many, even humans. Venus looked at those celestial beings that were already aware of themselves, who welcomed it warmly, and it saw the love of a family, the love between friends. Among humans Venus saw the potential for a grand, enlightened love that held them together as a species, that helped them to survive. It took no effort at all to convince Venus that they should go and join the humans.

And yet, even with Venus and Mercury wishing with all their might, their wish did not come true.

(From the darkness emerged yet another memory that wasn’t Keith’s. This time it was Lance and Romelle, chatting idly about love. Romelle insisted that she wasn’t interested in a romantic relationship of any sort, while Lance was eager to find such a love.

(Unbeknownst to him, that was what he’d come to earth for, after all, and even failing to find romance in the moon, it was still his greatest wish.)

Mars, headstrong and eager, was also easily persuaded to join the planets in their quest. To humans, Mars was regarded as a patron of war, violent, and in some depictions bloodthirsty. But humans in their hearts were not naturally inclined to war, not the ones who were wont to tell these stories that so livened the planets anyways. While Mars was strong, and ready to fight, that did not necessarily mean it wanted to. After all, the greatest stories were of reluctant warriors fighting only for what they believed in. In the meantime, Mars was energetic and prone to recklessness. It was more than ready to charge headfirst into the world of humans, and right whatever wrongs it may come across.

(Lance and Pidge were play-fighting, although it hardly looked like it. In fact, it looked more like Pidge was punching Lance’s arm harder than she realized, while Lance tried to retreat and bat her hands away. Both of them were giggling like maniacs, about what Keith couldn’t tell. All he knew was that when it was just the two of them, they looked like trouble waiting to happen.)

Jupiter, the largest planet of them all, was often a king in human stories, powerful but unpredictable as a storm. Here too was a planet willing to wish themself down to earth with the others, if only for the sake of curiosity.

“I wonder what it would be like,” Jupiter said. “To be a human.”

(Here was a memory that did not involve Lance. It was Terrell, a few years younger with a brighter, more optimistic face. She didn’t look like anyone that could possibly become a villain of any sort, much less a murderer. She had just taken flight, relishing the sensation of weightlessness with a deep sigh. As far as Keith could tell, this was from the time she worked at the Bureau as a searcher.

“I don’t want to see this,” he heard Terrell say, though the voice came not from the Terrell in the memory. “I don’t want to see this!”

Keith blinked, and a scream pierced his ears with such intensity that everything became a jumbled mess, the dream threatening to end. It was followed by a sharp crack of thunder, and then, silence. The younger Terrell emerged from the darkness again, her face tear streaked and horrified. Before her was a sight that made Keith recoil--it was a wonder he didn’t wake up then. Three bodies, charred and smoking, and completely still. Terrell curled in on herself, sobbing uncontrollably.

“I didn’t mean to, I didn’t mean to!” she kept repeating.)

(Keith suddenly found it very hard to reconcile the image of a careless murderer with the memory before him.)

(“I don’t want your sympathy,” he thought he heard Terrell say from the shadows.)

Saturn had been the hardest to convince, what with it’s stories of a steadfast and reliable nature. As far as Saturn was concerned, there was nothing wrong with remaining as they were, and that becoming human might be dangerous. Jupiter was of no help convincing Saturn, as their motivation was a simple whim. It was, as it always was, the sun who urged Saturn to reconsider, and join them.

“You don’t have to come with us,” the sun began.

“I don’t?”

“No, but imagine how lonely it would be for you once we all left.”

After some brief consideration, Saturn was much more agreeable to the plan.

(This memory was far more lighthearted than the previous one, with Lance trying to convince Hunk to skip work, just for one day, so they could go do something fun. Hunk was worried that they would be found out, and the last thing he wanted, he said, was to be fired just because Lance wanted to play hooky. Lance was insistent. So was Hunk. It wasn’t until that moment that Keith realized how different they were. How interesting, he thought, that there were so many different ways different things could be opposite.)

(Eventually, Lance got his way.)

(Keith found himself smiling fondly.)

With Saturn, the planets thus far thought that this time, for sure, their singular wish would be granted. Yet even with the mighty Jupiter and the steady Saturn on their side, the wish fizzled and died before it could be granted. They looked beyond Saturn, waiting eagerly, not yet realizing that the humans could not yet see beyond Saturn. Thankfully, what was a lifetime to humans was nothing to planets, who plodded along as they always did, awaiting the day that they could move as they pleased.

When humans found Uranus, they told grand tales of a lord of the skies, old and wise. These stories were more a feeling than anything specific, but Uranus was a calm and reassuring presence--most of the time. When Uranus agreed to join the others in their wish to become human, it was out of a sense of responsibility, rather than any inherent desire to become human itself. Still, after a little while, Uranus came to find enthusiasm for the idea.

(“Lance McClain, right? I’m Takashi Shirogane--you can just call me Shiro--I’ll be your supervisor from now on, so any problems you have, just let me know, okay?”

Shiro held out his hand, and Lance shook it, grinning all the while.

“I’ve heard about you, you kind of have a reputation within the Bureau, you know?” Lance mentioned.

Shiro nodded. “I’m aware. Now, I know you probably went over the process a thousand times in training, but let me run through the process of how searchers are assigned to areas and how stars are turned in for analysis.”

Lance groaned dramatically. Shiro laughed at him, not an ounce of sympathy for the sheer boredom Lance was about to endure.)

(Keith chuckled softly. Shiro had done the same thing to him.)

Some years passed, and humans found Neptune, and connected it with deep waters, turbulent and changeable. Neptune felt the cause of the planets’ plight deeply, though it never admitted to it. Neptune simply agreed to wish as strongly as the others did, and no amount of pandering could draw out any reasoning.

(Here was another memory that did not involve Lance, but Shiro and Adam. They were flying, as Lance and Keith once had, around the tail of a comet. They dipped in and out without a care for the cold, laughing as they hurled snowballs at one another. More often than not it was Adam getting pelted, for while Keith had known them to be fliers of equal skill, Shiro had always been faster.)

(Adam paused for a moment, while Shiro twirled through the snow and ice so quickly that he very nearly had a tail of his own. Adam’s smile changed from that of energetic enthusiasm to quiet fondness. It didn’t take long for Shiro to notice.

“What?” Shiro asked.

Adam shook his head. “Nothing.”)

With this many planets wishing, they thought, surely their wish would be granted. But of course, it was the fact that there was so many of them that held them back, it seemed. Before, when it had just been the sun and the moon, they had felt the promise of potential, a certain sort of anticipation of something unknown. It had been easy to claim that perhaps it was their own overzealous nature that got their hopes so high, but any time a number of them aligned just so, they felt it, a whisper of a grand happening. As they continued on their celestial paths set for them by nature, the stars around them whispered of the most grand happening of all, something that had yet to pass in their time of consciousness.

Their wish would come to pass, they knew. All they had to do was wait for the right moment.

(“But what about Keith?” he thought he heard Lance protest.)

What about Pluto indeed. Nearly a century passed before humans had any inkling of it. The planets themselves were aware of it, though they didn’t think much of it. After all, it was so far, and so small, even if humans did breathe some sort of life into it, what could it possibly do to help them? As it was, the planets did not believe that humans would give it stories. They had not counted on humans being such sentimental creatures.

When humans happened upon Pluto, they gave it stories of endings, of misfortune and death. Suddenly Pluto was not something inconsequential, lingering on the fringes of their solar system, but something to be pitied, for all that it did not want that. For despite it’s morbid origins, Pluto was just as eager as all the other planets to explore this new psyche it had been given, in the most human way possible. It was not at all as sad as the others believed it might be. In endings, Pluto saw new beginnings. In misfortunes, opportunities for change.

(Keith saw himself, walking down the sidewalk completely alone with his shoulders hunched against the cold. It could’ve been any day, but it wasn’t. He knew it wasn’t, especially as he spotted Lance a ways down the street.)

(Keith saw in vivid detail as Lance happened to glance up, settling on the Keith in the memory.)

(Keith slipped on the ice.)

(Lance laughed.)

(Outside of the memory, Keith laughed too.)

The desire to become human was perhaps the biggest change Pluto could undertake. Quietly, Pluto decided to wish as well, knowing and believing that being so small meant it could offer little in the way of wishmaking. Still, as it waited patiently for the day to arrive, casting it’s gaze towards that distant warmth, it began to wish, more than anything, to have a warmth just like that, to belong to something so welcoming. If it could be close to the sun, Pluto decided, even if it melted away, that would certainly bring it happiness.

(“The syzygy, the grand syzygy,” everyone whispered.)

Keith watched as the cosmos shuddered when the moon settled into place last of all the celestial bodies, a resounding click echoing through the empty space.

The wish rattled the stars, shook the planets from their orbits.

Then, just as everyone knew would happen, everything began to fall.

The stars, planets, moon, and sun fell towards the earth.

And Keith awoke with a sharp exhale. He and Lance were as tangled up in each other as they had been when he’d fallen asleep. Lance was awake, wide-eyed and staring at Keith. He had a knowing look in his eyes. Keith had no doubt that if he went to the others now, they would have the same look.

“That was… something,” Keith whispered, his voice hoarse with sleep. How long had he been dreaming, remembering?

“You wanted to be with me,” Lance breathed. “All along.”

Keith turned his face into his pillow. “I guess so.”

“Do you suppose--”

But whatever Lance was trying to suggest was cut off by a sharp knock at their door. They both scrambled to get it, tripping over each other in the process. The door opened before either of them could reach it. It was Shiro, and just as Keith had suspected, he had a knowing look in his eyes.

“We all need to talk,” he told them.

Everyone shuffled quietly downstairs, not a single yawn among them. Keith idly wondered how much sleep they had all managed to get. They all seemed a little subdued as they gathered in the living room, perhaps a little contemplative. Only Coran had any semblance of energy, bustling about in the kitchen and whipping up something that smelled very good--Keith realized that he hadn’t had a single thing to eat the day before.

Shiro spoke first, “So that dream--or memory. We all had it, right?”

Everyone nodded. Shiro smiled.

“Then I think we’ve found our solution.”

They all blinked, perhaps still a bit addled from it all. Veronica shot up out of her seat suddenly, gasping loud enough to startle everyone else.

“The syzygy! Of course! We don’t have to wait ten thousand years for the planets to align themselves because we’re the planets!” she practically shouted.

Pidge continued, “If we align ourselves and make the right wish, the sun, moon, and planets will be back in the sky and we can continue living our lives as people!”

“Yeah, that sounds great and all but there’s just one problem,” Hunk piped.

“Terrell,” Adam said with a solemn nod.

“Whatever she wants, it probably doesn’t involve being completely human,” Romelle added.

Allura clenched her fists. “Well whatever it is she wants, we’ll have to convince her otherwise, whether she likes it or not.”

Coran burst in before anyone could say anything more, insisting that they all eat something before gallivanting off on some noble, world-saving pursuit or other. After all, he told them, they couldn’t very well fix problems on an empty stomach, and Keith found he was quite agreeable to the sentiment.

“I think the real question is,” Adam began after a few moments. “How are we going to get her to listen to us in the first place? She already took issue with us being together in the first place, to the point where she nearly blasted some of us out of the sky.”

Several of them hummed thoughtfully.

“Maybe if we threw some rubber gloves over her hands…?” Pidge offered with the air of someone just spitballing for the sake of generating ideas.

Lance had another idea. “That’s a good alternative, but I was thinking… When Keith and I are around each other, our more passive abilities are kind of switched. Or at least, they were before Terrell made a wish on me. For that matter, why was she able to make a wish on me when we just saw that all the planets had to be in alignment to make a wish?”

“Perhaps it’s all in the type of wish? Or maybe she had a star on hand, and that was what actually granted the wish?” Veronica suggested.

“Anyways, Lance, where were you going with that train of thought?” Shiro asked.

“Right,” Lance continued. “Basically, our powers kind of switched because we’re practically opposites, right? At least, that’s what I’m thinking. So whoever is the natural opposite of Terrell can probably hold her back for long enough for the rest of us to get a few words in.”

“Hunk,” Keith suddenly said.

Hunk looked at everyone with wide eyes. “Me? I don’t know…”

Adam seemed to agree with Keith. “That blast that came from your powers interacting with Terrell’s… If Jupiter is frantic, overwhelming power, and Saturn is steady, grounding energy, then maybe…”

Hunk still looked uncertain. “I only did what I did because I had to. Terrell would’ve zapped at least one of us right out of the sky, and I didn’t want that to happen. It was a heat of the moment sort of thing, you know? I don’t know if I can make that happen on purpose.”

“You can Hunk, I know you can,” Shiro assured him.

“What makes you so sure?” Hunk persisted. “This--all this is just so much, and Terrell’s had years to learn how to control her powers, and you’re suddenly so certain that I can hold her back just because I have to?”

“It’s our best bet right now, Hunk,” Pidge insisted.

“A lousy bet,” Hunk huffed.

“Hunk,” Lance began gently. “I know it’s not much to go off of, but it’s better than nothing. I know you’re scared, but even if it doesn’t work, we’ll be right there with you to bail you out. Powers or no, we still outnumber Terrell by a lot. If we can lure her away from other snatchers, we might stand a chance even with her lightning. And there’s still Pidge’s rubber glove idea.”

Hunk chuckled softly, his tensed shoulders relaxing, if only a little. “Alright, alright, you’re right. Besides, the sooner we face off with her the better, right? I don’t know about you guys, but the next time I see anyone from the Bureau, I want to be as human as possible.”

A murmur of agreement rippled through them. Then--

“Keith, do you still have that star?” Shiro asked.

Keith nodded, pulling the flask out of his pocket. “I’ve been wondering… why does it--I mean, I’ve never tried to make a wish--a reasonable wish--on it before, but I’ve never seen a star guide people where they need to go before.”

“Because only a few stars ever guided people before the fall,” Veronica said, leaning forward with keen interest. “And since we’re in the northern hemisphere…”

“You’re not saying that this star might be Polaris?” Keith sputtered.

Beside Veronica, Pidge hummed thoughtfully. “She’s got a point. When I worked as an analyst, I never heard of stars acting like this--then again, not many people ask stars for directions.”

“Here, let me see it,” Hunk said, making a beckoning motion with his hand.

Keith handed it over, and Hunk popped the cork off the flask and gently tipped the tiny star into his palm. Pidge leaned against him, peering at the star just as intently as Hunk was. Hunk rolled it around, observing how it twinkled, and began muttering to himself.

“There’s supposed to be a companion,” he said. “Wish I had a star catalog. You don’t happen to have one Pidge, do you?”

Pidge shook her head, but Coran piped, “I have one! Several, actually, wait just a tick…”

He returned promptly with a stack of star catalogs, with the newest one (updated to include only the stars that were currently in the sky), on the top. They chose an older catalog, one from before the fall. Everyone looked on with mild curiosity.

“Is this really necessary?” Veronica questioned.

Lance shrugged. “I guess. I’m not going to tell them to stop.”

“Yeah, look at the way it kind of bulges on one side--” Pidge said, pointing out whatever it was that she and Hunk saw.

“It’s just a matter of which one it is, I suppose--” Hunk replied, nodding along.

“I’m betting the bigger one--”

“Mm, no probably not, cause, see, here it says that Polaris Aa is a yellow supergiant--”

“Oh, this is definitely not a yellow supergiant--”

The deliberated for a few moments longer, caught up in specific details like spectral and variable types that Keith couldn’t even begin to keep up with. Beside him, Lance sighed impatiently. Veronica seemed to be much in the same way. All that really mattered was that it could take them where they needed to go--what did it matter whether it was really Polaris or not? Although, Keith couldn’t deny he was curious--mostly about how he’d managed to end up with such an important star. All stars went through the same intense process of analysis, and only those that weren’t essential were passed out to employees as their one wish.

Finally, Pidge and Hunk looked up at the others. “It is and isn’t Polaris.”

Lance groaned. “What does that even mean?”

“Polaris is actually a system of two stars,” Hunk began. “This, as far as we can tell, is the smaller of those two stars.”

“So it’s just half of Polaris then?” Romelle inquired.

Pidge shrugged. “To put it simply, yeah.”

Veronica scowled. “While that’s nice to know, it’s also completely pointless. We already know it’ll take us where we want to go.”

“But the other half of the system--” Hunk began.

“Can be found later,” Veronica said decidedly. “Right now, our priority is Terrell.”

“Veronica is right, the sooner we find Terrell and figure out how to recreate a grand syzygy, the better,” Shiro said, standing tall.

That, it seemed, was their cue to go. Or so they thought.

“Wait,” Adam, said suddenly as he stood up and put an arm in front of Shiro.

Shiro frowned. “What is it?”

Everyone quieted, as though to listen for something.

“Can’t you sense it?” Adam whispered.

“Sense what?” Shiro demanded.

Adam didn’t immediately respond. Keith took a deep breath, trying to sense what he’d sensed before. All he could sense was a jumble of different things, likely all the other planets around him. But then, he had a feeling he knew what it was regardless. Or rather, who it was.

“Terrell,” Adam finally whispered. “She’s coming.”

“But we normally hear her coming,” Romelle protested.

“That’s what’s so concerning,” Adam replied, chancing a peek out the window.

Keith opened his mouth to mention that Terrell had most certainly been in the dream with them, and hadn’t seemed happy about what they’d all seen regarding her, when Adam whipped around and shouted for them all to get down. No sooner had they all dropped to the floor than a massive bolt of lightning smashed through the window. Keith couldn’t see, couldn’t hear. He blinked furiously and rubbed at his eyes, trying to see if everyone was okay. He felt a hand on his arm, tugging insistently. He followed as best as he could, reaching to see if he could grab hold of anyone else to help them to safety as well.

When the spots started to clear from his vision, Keith found himself crammed in a hallway with everyone else. Several people were saying something, something that he couldn’t yet hear. He saw Coran gesturing towards the back of the house. Allura looked concerned, and gave him a quick hug before dashing in the direction he’d indicated. Everyone followed suit, Keith being led along by Lance.

Keith shook his head, trying to orient himself. “Where are we going?”

“Out the back, we have to lure Terrell away from here,” Lance answered quickly.

Only about half of them had made it out the door before another lightning strike pushed them back in. Adam pushed to the front of the group. Through his disorientation, Keith could feel the air shift from something dry and crackling to being heavy and imposing. Thunder cracked overhead as Adam shouted something to Shiro, who joined him at the front. From the doorway, Keith felt an icy gale rush in, accompanied by the sharp sting of icy rain. Lighting still struck, but the aim was off.

“Let’s go!” Adam shouted over the storm.

No one needed telling twice. Allura led the way for them. Even in the midst of a full on storm she knew the terrain best. Keith thought he could hear Terrell screaming behind them, but didn’t dare look back. They had known they would have to face her sooner rather than later, but this was much sooner than any of them had been anticipating.

“What’s the plan?!” Keith clamored, straining to make his voice heard over the noise.

“Same as we agreed, we just need to put some distance between us and Coran’s house!” Shiro yelled back.

The rain was just starting to die down when a lightning bolt struck far too close to their group, sending more than half of them, Keith included, flying. He hit the ground hard, sliding a little in the mud. The wrist he’d broken only a few months prior twinged. Nothing seemed broken, but if they carried on like this, things wouldn’t stay that way. He caught sight of Terrell’s faint silhouette, approaching them with the air of a murderer. Whatever she wanted, she was going to get it, no matter what the cost.

She raised her fist to strike again, and Keith didn’t think. He dug in deep and sprinted towards Terrell, tackling her and slamming her to the ground so hard he heard the air rush out of her lungs in a single gasp. The others were shouting at him, no doubt thinking he was off on some heroic tangent again, but he paid them no heed.

“What do you want?!” Keith demanded.

Terrell sputtered and gasped, still trying to breathe. Her expression teetered between seething rage and incomprehensible terror. Keith wouldn’t let himself be fooled again.

When she finally caught her breath, she wheezed, “As if that really matters to you!”

Terrell caught Keith in the gut with a sparking fist, making every part of his body seize up. He couldn’t even cry out. Next thing he knew he was flying again, feeling utterly boneless as the current of electricity left him. Hands were on him almost the instant he hit the ground again, checking for injuries, helping him to stand. He couldn’t even support his own weight.

“You’ve been nothing but a thorn in my side,” Terrell said, advancing on them dangerously. “I should’ve dealt with you a long time ago, and now I have to deal with all of you--”

“Deal with this!” Hunk shrieked suddenly, charging forward with speed that belied his size.

Terrell threw up her hands; Keith braced for impact.

What followed was nowhere near as coherent as anything he saw or heard the first time this had happened. He felt himself flying backwards for the third time, his vision disoriented once more. What was real and what was a dream was hardly discernible, and whether the screams he heard were from his friends or from a memory that didn’t belong to him was just as impossible to tell.

(“I didn’t mean to, I didn’t mean to!”)

Keith felt his legs underneath him, hardly able to carry his own weight but moving anyways. He felt his hand grasping at someone’s arm, but when he looked, he couldn’t see them.

(“I just didn’t want to die!”)

He tripped over something, and whoever he was holding onto scrambled to keep him upright. Where were they going? Who were they following? Where was Terrell? Was Hunk okay?

(“I didn’t want to die!”)

“Just over the hill!” he heard Allura shouting. “We can lose her in the sunflower field!”

“Losing her won’t be that easy,” Adam could be heard arguing.

“I suppose you have a better idea?”

A pause. “Lead on.”

(“I don’t want to die!”)

Up ahead, Keith saw glittering lights that were just out of focus for him. This wasn’t a good idea. There was too much light, he wouldn’t be able to hide them in the shadows. He tried to tell everyone as much, but found that his mouth just wouldn’t form words. Light began to engulf them as the sunflowers came into clearer focus.

(“I will not die!”)

Another lightning strike rattled the ground just as they ducked among the tall sunflowers. Keith blinked, his head clear once more.

“I can’t hide us in here,” he told the others.

“That’s fine,” Shiro assured him. “We just need to get her to listen.”

“Guys, I don’t think I can do that again,” Hunk breathed, doubled over with fatigue. “I can’t, I--”

“It’s alright Hunk,” Romelle said, helping him to stand. “We’ll find another way.”

“You guys really think you can just hide from me? Have you forgotten what we are?!” Terrell shrieked, loudly pushing through the sunflowers.

“Split up!” Shiro hissed. “Stay with someone, but if we split up that might confuse her long enough for us to maybe talk to her!”

“Takashi, she’s not here to talk,” Adam whispered back.

“But we need her--”

They stopped abruptly as an arc of electricity sailed dangerously close over their heads.

“Move!”

Keith turned sharply away, crashing through the sunflowers as noisily as Terrell had been. In the back of his mind he knew separating was a bad idea, even if they stayed in pairs. Keith stopped short, looking around frantically. In the chaos, he hadn’t thought to make sure someone stayed with him. He was completely alone. He strained to hear something, anything from the others, but in the soft light of the sunflowers, there was nothing. He didn’t dare call out for them, not with Terrell prowling about.

Keith moved through the sunflowers as swiftly and as quietly as possible after that. The silence was unnerving. Not even the sound of lightning split the air around him. That was perhaps the most worrying of all. A Terrell that was wild and aimless was dangerous, but far more so was a Terrell that was focused. Keith tried to sense where she was, where the others were, but everyone’s energy was almost overwhelming. No doubt that was because every planet was larger than him. He scowled--there had to be something he could do.

Before Keith could think of anything, however, he was tackled from behind and slammed face first into the ground. The hairs on the back on his neck stood on end. He spat dirt from his mouth and wormed an arm free to elbow his assailant in the face.

Terrell recoiled, allowing Keith to whip around. He’d managed to nail her in the nose, a trickle of blood already dripping from it. Terrell snarled.

“I should’ve taken you out a long time ago,” she growled.

“What’s stopping you now?” Keith challenged.

Her palm was instantly alight. “Not a damn thing.”

Terrell lunged at Keith with such speed that he was only barely able to dodge. There was no hiding here, no confined room to plunge into darkness, no stark shadows to blend into. It was just him, Terrell, and the gentle glow of the sunflowers around them. He threw out a fist, clipping the side of Terrell’s face. She hardly flinched, and thrust her hands towards him again. Her eyes were alight with killing intent. But why? Keith distantly considered asking, but had no doubt that Terrell would very likely not answer. Even if she did, it was likely not to be in a way that would make sense to Keith.

“Listen, maybe you don’t care, but there might be a way to prevent us from getting put in the sky!” Keith attempted, frantically dodging Terrell’s rapid jabs.

“You’re right, I don’t care,” she huffed.

“Awfully bold of you to say, for someone who doesn’t want to die,” Keith spat.

With a wild cry, Terrell caught Keith by the front of his shirt, sliding her foot around to kick his feet out from underneath him. He hit the ground with a strangled shout. Terrell pressed her hand hard against his chest, her eyes daring him to make a move.

“Why do you think I’m trying to kill you first?”

The jolt of electricity Keith got was stronger than anything he’d gotten before. He wheezed painfully as his entire body seized, and then began to spasm out of his control. He was still able to breathe, but only just, and with great and agonizing effort. He tried to shout, to cry for help, but all he could manage was a staccato of choked gasps. His stomach felt like it was turning itself inside-out, swirling sickeningly. The sensation of spasming did not ease, but Keith’s awareness of it did. His chest felt like it was on fire. The edges of his vision started to darken.

Keith was dying, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He couldn’t even ask why.

Above him, Terrell watched with single-minded focus. It was a far cry from the memory he’d seen of her, crying and aghast at what she’d done.

Keith was just on the edge of consciousness, unable to even see Terrell’s face in front of him when the pain suddenly eased, the weight pressing down on him gone. His first thought was that this really was the end, that Terrell had succeeded in what she set out to do. His second thought was concern for what she might do to the others, and how heartbroken they would be if he actually did die.

But then his vision cleared, the face above him still framed by sunflowers, but decidedly not Terrell.

“Keith? Keith, are you okay?! Give me something, buddy,” Lance said, hands fluttering around Keith’s face and over his chest.

Keith grabbed one of Lance’s hands and held it close to his heart. “I’m alright.”

From a ways away, Terrell could be heard yelling incoherently. Lance helped Keith to sit up. Terrell was surrounded by the others, looking like a wild animal. Dangerous, feral, and liable to do anything to ensure her own survival. Her hands sparked threateningly--Keith vaguely wondered if she had a limit.

“Stay out of my way!” she shrieked.

“Give it up, Terrell,” Adam commanded. “It’s all of us against you. Even if you can keep us at bay today, we’re all aware of who we are now. It’s only a matter of time before--”

“Shut up!” Terrell shouted, flinging an arc of lightning at Adam that narrowly missed him.

“You have to help us, whether you like it or not,” Pidge chimed, ducking the lightning that was promptly sent her way.

Terrell was panting hard. “Stay out of my way. I’m not becoming human, and I’m not going back up into the sky. I’m not. I won’t!”

“Terrell,” Allura started, trying to sound gentle. “If you help us, perhaps we can help you--”

“There is nothing--” Terrell spat, throwing lightning at Allura. “That any of you could do--to help me! So just stay out of my way!”

“You’re the one who keeps going out of your way to find us!” Hunk shouted, dodging the lightning well before it got close to him.

“As if you all weren’t planning on finding me!” she yelled. Her hands were trembling, clenched tightly and still alight with sparks.

Lance hoisted Keith up to his feet, an arm wrapped tightly around his waist. Together, they joined the others around Terrell. She glowered fiercely at the two of them. They had, it seemed, reached a stalemate. Terrell would not cooperate, but she was the key to their only solution. They had to convince her, they had to.

“You’re reaching your limit,” Lance noted. Indeed, Terrell looked liable to collapse at any moment, kept upright by sheer spite alone. “You may as well help us. It’ll benefit you too, you know. You won’t have to get stitched up into the sky--”

Terrell made no sudden movement at that, didn’t even retort. Only scowled and dug her nails even further into the flesh of her palms. Keith felt the air change in an instant, the ground practically hissing in anticipation. Several things happened at once. Several people warned everyone to move. Keith slipped out of Lance’s hold, charging towards Terrell, rather than away. Lance was shouting at him again. Everything seemed to light up in slow motion. Keith grabbed fistfuls of Terrell’s shirt, his momentum making him plow right into her. The light around them intensified, until Keith couldn’t see anything, hear anything, or even feel anything.

Then, everything faded to black.

“Let me go!”

Slowly, Keith came to the awareness that he had Terrell pinned down, but they were no longer in the sunflower field. Indeed, it didn’t look as though they were on earth at all. Terrell struggled in vain against Keith, no lightning to speak of. Stars surrounded them from every angle. Keith couldn’t see where the others were.

“Hey! Let me go!”

Keith turned his attention to Terrell. He had managed to drop his knee directly on her sternum. Terrell’s face was contorted with pain, and she struggled to push him off. Keith glared down at her.

“Why should I?”

Terrell paused, looking increasingly panicked. “Because--because you’re not a murderer!”

“Want to bet?!” Keith snarled, digging his knee further into her chest. “You’ve tried to kill my friends on numerous occasions, you stole the power of the sun and don’t intend to give it up, and you don’t want to help us safely put the sun back in the sky, essentially dooming everyone on the planet. Maybe killing you is the real solution, so give me one good reason why I shouldn’t!”

“You can’t--you can’t!” Terrell sputtered, hands scrambling to push Keith off of her.

“You tried to kill me, even after saying that I was nothing to you, acting like I was the last person in the world that could pose a threat to you--”

“Shut up!”

“You’re a murderer, you don’t care about anyone but yourself--the world would be better off without you,” Keith continued.

“Stop it!” Terrell pleaded. “You can’t kill me!”

“Can’t, or won’t?”

“Don’t!” she sobbed, tears openly streaming down her face. “Don’t kill me, please! I don’t want to die!”

Keith, for all that he promised himself he wouldn’t hesitate the next time he got an opportunity like this, took pause as everything seemed to click into place. Her usual reluctance to kill, and the memory of those three snatchers she had killed, where she looked just as distressed as she did now. Her persistent goal of obtaining the power of the sun for herself, and her aversion to any interference Keith himself might have intended.

Terrell was afraid--terrified--of dying. And Keith was the very personification of just that.

“Keith?” he heard Lance call out softly.

Keith turned to see that Lance was suddenly there, and so too were the others, looking on with expressions that ranged from tremulous concern to downright fear. Keith did not ease up on Terrell. He wouldn’t, couldn’t. Not when Terrell posed such a threat. He couldn’t allow her to harm them or anyone else, no matter how scared she was.

“You’re going to help us,” Keith told her. “You’re going to be human, and one day, perhaps many years in the future, you’re going to die. And so are the rest of us.”

Terrell shook her head wildly. “I don’t want this anymore, I don’t want to be human anymore!”

Keith frowned, and glanced at the others. He almost felt sorry for Terrell. Had it not been for her previous attempts at murder, he almost certainly would’ve been intent on helping her. But she’d made her choices. And Keith had to make his. The other planets, too, made their own choices. Slowly, but surely, that buzz of anticipation crept under his skin, that whispering, so much softer than it had been all those years before, telling of something happening. Nearly everyone was in place.

“I don’t want to,” Terrell wept weakly, her head lolling to the side. “I don’t want to die like a human.”

“But you do want to live like one,” Keith replied.

“I can’t, not anymore. It was an accident, but they decided I was a murderer.”

“Maybe at first, but then you decided to agree with them. You want to live like a human, but facing the consequences of your choices is part of that.”

“I don’t need you to lecture me,” Terrell spat, regaining some of her usual spark. “You won’t kill me, cause you need me.”

“Try me. We’ll find another way if we need to,” Keith challenged.

Terrell, finally, seemed to take him seriously.

“Fine.”

With a single word, it felt as though single thread in the fabric of reality had finally snapped into place with a resounding crack. Keith’s nerves were alight with it. He glanced at the others, blinking when he saw a faint glow emanating from them all. Beneath him, Terrell glowed too. Keith’s own light could hardly hold a candle to everyone else, least of all Lance, whose form was almost completely lost amidst the glaring, golden light. Without releasing his hold on Terrell, Keith closed his eyes, and focused on his wish, everyone’s wish, to be completely separate from the planets.

The static just underneath Keith’s skin intensified, but nothing happened. He frowned, keeping his eyes tightly squeezed shut. The light from all around him seeped through his eyelids, so that all Keith saw was muted light. He focused every fiber of his being into teasing apart the human part of him and the planet. Where was the line? Keith wondered. Where did Pluto end and Keith begin?

Or, he wondered despairingly as he opened his eyes, was there even a difference at all?

The static did not subside, but they remained suspended in a dream-space, with nowhere to go and nothing to do.

Keith finally pushed himself off of Terrell, who breathed deeply in relief. He looked at the others, who looked just as lost as he felt. This was a grand syzygy, even if they weren’t in a line. They knew it was. So why wasn’t their wish being granted? If planets could be turned into humans because of a wish, surely those same humans could relinquish their status as planets for the sake of the earth with a wish, right?

“What are we missing?” Shiro asked of no one in particular, his voice laden with desperation.

“We did it, we managed to recreate a grand syzygy--so why is nothing happening?” Pidge bemoaned.

“Maybe,” Lance began slowly. “There was more to it than just all the planets having the same wish.”

“How do you mean?” Veronica asked.

“Terrell was able to make a wish on me as the sun, and whether I wanted to or not, I was able to grant it. So maybe it never had anything to do with the grand syzygy at all,” he continued.

“Then how were we able to become human at all? How was our wish able to be granted?” Terrell demanded.

“Because,” Lance mused, his eyes roving over every single one of them in fierce contemplation. “While I have the power to grant wishes, only one of us has the power to grant great change.”

His eyes settled on Keith, whose heart skipped at the statement.

“But Pluto gained sentience well before the grand syzygy, why couldn’t our wish have been granted then?” Allura pointed out.

It was Adam who offered an answer, when Lance couldn’t find it. “Because they were so far apart. They needed the rest of us to connect them.”

Keith said nothing all the while. It made sense, of course it did, but it stirred up something fierce within him, something warm that weighed heavy on his heart. Little Pluto, associated with death by the very humans (who themselves rejected death as fiercely as they could) that went on to say it wasn’t even a planet, was the key to granting their wish.

“If that’s the case,” Keith began. “Then why wasn’t the wish granted anyways? We’re here, and we’ve recreated the grand syzygy--why didn’t it just work anyways?”

“I suppose you and I have to be in actual alignment,” Lance suggested, holding out a hand towards Keith. “What do you say?”

Keith didn’t hesitate to reach for Lance’s hand. “I suppose we do.”

When their hands met, it felt like electricity sparking between them, only softer and warmer. It drew them closer to each other, and while the light around them began to fade, the sparks under Keith’s skin intensified. The force between them inexplicably pulled them together, stronger than any electricity, magnetism, or even gravity. They wouldn’t have been able to part even if they wanted to. As it was, Keith had no such thoughts of parting with Lance. Not this time. And not for a while, if he had anything to say about it.

The last thing he saw before the light around them was snuffed out was Lance’s stunning blue eyes, and Keith was certain that not even the sun itself could shine brighter.

When Keith opened his eyes next, it was to the dim glow of sunflowers. A brief moment of panic took hold--what if that had been an actual dream? What if nothing had actually changed? But then he looked beside him, where his and Lance’s hands were still intertwined, and breathed a sigh of relief. He waited a moment, breathing deeply. He felt the same, but knew different. Lance stirred, not once taking his hand from Keith’s.

“Hey,” Keith greeted softly.

“Hey,” Lance returned. “Did it work?”

Keith glanced at the still dark sky that was mostly obscured by the sunflowers that towered over them.

“Let’s find out.”

Around them, the others were waking. Terrell was nowhere to be found, but for once, Keith didn’t worry about it. If she wanted to run, that was her choice. If it truly had worked, then there was nothing to worry about from her any longer.

Together they stumbled out of the sunflower field, looking up at the sky eagerly. From the within the sunflowers, it looked different already, but it was hard to be sure. Perhaps they were simply too hopeful. When they finally found the edge of the field, however, they were presented with a new problem: A squad of keepers, the very ones that had searched Keith’s apartment, were waiting for them, as if they’d known they would be there. Keith had a funny feeling that they’d been ratted out by one person in particular, who happened to be conspicuously absent.

The keepers were deaf to their protests as they were apprehended. Irritated as he was by it, Keith couldn’t really blame them. After all, the short explanation of what had just happened was essentially “planet magic”. Granted, with the planets having superhuman abilities, Keith thought that they should’ve at least listened to their story before deciding it was all a lie to keep from getting stitched up in the sky.

Still they continued to look up at the sky, looking for any proof at all that what they had done actually worked. As far as they could see, nothing had changed, but Keith thought that maybe the sky looked a little lighter, the stars a little dimmer.

The keepers marched them back towards Coran’s house. The damage from Terrell’s lightning looked far worse now that things weren’t quite so hectic. Keith made a mental note to find a star to help repair Coran’s house. It was the least he could do--if he and the others managed to get free of the keepers, anyways. Another squad of keepers were waiting at the house, no doubt to ensure that they were all delivered to the Bureau without trouble.

By then, Keith was certain that it was not just his imagination--the sky was now a dusty lilac color, only a few stars remaining in the sky. The keepers noticed it too, murmuring anxiously amongst themselves. Even then, they would not hear an explanation from the supposed criminals. Best to shuffle them off to the Bureau for interrogation, sooner rather than later.

Just before they could leave, however, one of the keepers shouted in alarm, pointing frantically at the mountains. From behind them, a bright, intense light was spilling into the valley, painting everything with vibrant and beautiful colors. Keith’s breath caught in his throat. Lance’s hand, still holding to Keith’s, squeezed tightly.

Coran stepped out of his house then, escorted by two keepers. He gasped when he saw the light, then frantically searched all the faces before him, heaving a deep sigh of relief when he found Lance alive and well among them. He looked back towards the light that grew more insistent with every passing moment, his eyes shining with tears.

“I don’t believe it,” he whispered, almost reverently.

“What, what is it?” the lead keeper demanded, clearly alarmed by whatever was happening.

“It’s the sun,” Coran said. “The sun is rising.”

None of the keepers said anything. Some of them looked skeptical, and wary of the coming light. Others looked hopeful, while others still looked downright terrified. Keith found he couldn’t blame them. Everything was already brighter than he’d ever seen, he was afraid that the sun might accidentally scorch the earth in its brilliance.

As they watched, however, the sun did no such thing.

When the sun finally appeared from behind the mountains, a veritable ball of pure light that Keith winced away from, Lance was the first one to whoop loudly, jumping in place and declaring that they’d done it, they’d saved the world! Keith laughed along with Lance--it hardly felt real. Lance took his hand from Keith’s, only to wrap him up in a crushing hug, twirling around as they continued to laugh. The others smiled and laughed and embraced as well (save for an awkward handshake between Adam and Shiro). The keepers too joined in their jubilation. The earth was saved.

The sun had risen.

They were taken back to the Bureau after admiring the sunrise, but under very different circumstances. Suffice to say, it was no longer an arrest. The landscape was vastly different, drowning as it was in sunlight. Between the keepers and the former planets, they very nearly got lost trying to return to the Bureau, so foreign was everything to them now. It was like a completely different world.

In every place they flew over, there were people standing completely still, looking in wonder at the blindingly blue sky. It was one thing to see pictures of it in textbooks and on the internet. It was quite another to see it for one’s self, to fly through it as the sun rose higher and higher within it. Keith was certain he could lose himself in that blue, easier than he could’ve ever lost himself in the darkness.

The Bureau was, of course, in an uproar by the time they returned. Several supervising officials (essentially, their bosses’ bosses, and their bosses too) were on them in an instant, demanding every single detail of what had happened. They told them everything, from the very start. By the time they had finished telling their story, answering all questions asked, and telling their story again, the sun had reached its peak in the sky, and was dipping back down.

Of those of them that were still employed by the Bureau, they were given a few days off to recover (Pidge was offered her old position in the analysts department, as she should’ve been all along). Keith was glad for it. For once, he wasn’t sure if he could handle keeping busy after everything that had happened. It would be nice to take some time to process everything, adjust to this new world that had suddenly been thrust upon them.

The sun was setting when they were all released to go home, the sight casting brilliant reds and fiery oranges across the sky. Keith felt he could watch it forever. He was already eager to watch tomorrow’s sunrise. Beside him, Lance watched as well, a soft smile gracing his features. His eyes were bluer than the daytime sky, Keith noted.

Lance turned to him. “Guess I’ll see you around?”

Keith hesitated. “Yeah,” he eventually said. “I guess you will.”

Lance’s shoulders slumped, but he smiled all the same waving at Keith as he walked away. Keith waved back, watching him go until he rounded a corner, disappearing from his sight. If he was truly honest with himself, which was still a challenge even now, he wanted nothing more than to invite Lance back to his apartment to stay with him for a while longer, to hold him as he slept. But, he told himself, Lance needed time to process all this too. Keith wouldn’t deny him that just because he was feeling clingy.

When Keith slept that night, he was, for the first time, not plagued by dreams of an infinite darkness, nor of an unreachable light. He dreamed only of blue skies and bluer eyes.

Much as he wanted to see it, Keith slept through the second sunrise the earth had seen in a generation. It didn’t bother him. There would be plenty more, and he was sure to see the sunset that evening. For the majority of the day, he lingered outside like so many others, revelling not only in the light, but also in the warmth. Not once did he have need of a jacket. In fact, towards the end of the day, Keith worried that there might be times when the sun would become too hot for him to bear. He didn’t let it worry him for long. It was another problem for another day, he decided.

He slept through the third sunrise as well, and for all that he assured himself it was fine, he was disappointed all the same. Shiro came by, as he was wont to do, and they went to the roof of Keith’s apartment building, basking under the sun and talking of everything, from what they’d experienced to what a world with the sun would mean for the future.

And speaking of the future, Shiro revealed that he and Adam had agreed to patch things up between them. It would be a long and tedious and likely painful process, but, Shiro admitted, he thought it would be worth it. Even if he hadn’t said anything, it would’ve been all too obvious to Keith how much he had missed Adam, how happy he was to have him back in spite of everything surrounding their separation. Keith wished them the best of luck in earnest, even if he himself hadn’t quite forgiven Adam for leaving when the first opportunity presented itself. So long as Shiro was happy and they were actively working out problems between them, past and present, Keith was content.

Keith was awake early enough to see the fourth sunrise. By then, he’d had his fill of standing around, admiring the new world. He was once again in need of something to do. Luckily, as he’d been putting away his coats, his tiny star, one half of the Polaris system, fell out of his pocket, which had somehow miraculously been returned to him safe and sound. It took only a moment of deliberation for Keith to decide what to do with it.

In retrospect, he thought as he sailed through the newly blue sky, he could’ve very well passed the job off to some searchers in the Bureau. After all, he was officially a replacer. Searching, even for particular stars, was no longer his job, but Keith felt he had to see this through. Perhaps he felt attached to the little star that had guided him through this entire ordeal, which now guided him to its other half. Perhaps he wasn’t yet ready to give it up, as he knew he would have to sooner or later.

He hadn’t really considered how long it would take to find the other star of the Polaris system, but thankfully Keith had hardly been flying for even an hour when the little star guided him downwards towards a bright and glittering beach. The sight robbed him of his breath, such that he temporarily forgot his objective. The ocean was like a living thing, rolling and undulating and practically breathing as it crashed against the shore. Where it met with the sky was a sharp contrast, for all that they were both blue.

After a few moments, Keith remembered the insistent tugging of the cord around his hand. The other star of Polaris was around here somewhere. It would be a challenge to find in broad daylight, he realized, especially among the sparkling grains of sand, but then, he didn’t have anything better to do. He let the star lead on, walking down the stretch of the beach and listening to the lull of the waves. Keith was in the midst of considering that he ought to come to the beach just for the sake of enjoying it when he spotted someone else walking along the beach, a familiar flash of silver hair catching his eye.

He would’ve ignored her, had it not been for the fact that his star was pointing right at her.

“Miss Essa,” he greeted brusquely as his star went slack. There was no denying it then.

“Keith,” the older woman returned with a knowing twinkle in her eye. “Lovely day for a walk on the beach, isn’t it? I suppose people have forgotten how nice it is, but they’ll remember soon enough, I wager. I haven’t forgotten, at least. I loved coming here before the fall, and it’s so much sweeter to come back to it after so long.”

Keith let her ramble, but looked at her pointedly all the while.

Miss Essa glanced at the slack star dangling from his hand. She hummed. “I suppose someone had to find me out sooner or later.”

“But you’re too old,” Keith pointed out bluntly.

Miss Essa laughed aloud at that. “That’s because I wasn’t born from the fall. I made a wish, you see, on a very particular star, though I didn’t know it at the time. I wager my wish was only granted because it was so in line with the star’s purpose.”

When Keith said nothing, she continued, “I was about your age when the fall happened, and it didn’t take long for people to realize that they really could wish on stars. I was a bit of a wanderer myself, you see, a little lost at times, but there was something I wanted very badly, so when I came across a star, I couldn’t help myself.”

She paused again, and Keith couldn’t help she was doing it for the sake of dramatic effect.

“I wanted to help others, to guide them in the right direction. I guess I wanted to be for others what I wanted in the people around me,” Miss Essa elaborated. “Normally when a star grants a wish, it either turns into a physical object, if such a thing was wished for, or it simply disappears.”

Keith nodded, though he knew all this already.

“Not so for this wish,” Miss Essa said. “The star seemed to melt in my hands, and it seeped into my skin. It turned my hair white--it was very nearly black before. From then on, I seemed to know just how to nudge people in the right direction.”

“Like you did with me,” Keith noted.

Miss Essa nodded, but added, “I think you would’ve found your way eventually, I just helped you along a little quicker is all. Even without that little star there. There is--or rather was--something different about you. I suspect the change has to do with the return of certain celestial objects to the sky?”

Keith didn’t answer, mainly because he knew Miss Essa already knew, even though she’d phrased it like a question.

“I thought so,” she said. “You weren’t so different from Terrell.”

Keith’s eyes snapped up to her’s. “You knew Terrell.”

“In passing. I was only allowed a very short time with her after--well--”

“I know,” Keith said. “About the accident.”

Miss Essa shook her head. “Poor girl. With that, at least, I know she didn’t mean it. Some would say that it doesn’t make a difference, whether she meant it or not, but in her case, there definitely was. I did my best to try and show her that she didn’t have to become what others insisted she was, but as I said, I only had a short time with her, and ultimately, she chose her path.”

“No one knows where she is,” Keith commented idly.

Miss Essa hummed thoughtfully again. “She’s chosen her path.”

Keith said nothing.

“And now, I suppose, it’s time for you to choose yours,” she added with a pointed nod of her head.

Keith looked down the beach where she’d indicated, towards another lone figure staring out at the vast blue expanse. Keith felt his heart leap into his throat. Even from a distance, in this new light, there was no mistaking that silhouette. And yet still he hesitated, looking back at Miss Essa, and then to the star in his hand. She raised an eyebrow, as if to ask, “Well?”

He held the star out to her. “The Bureau doesn’t need to be trying to stitch anyone else in the sky.”

Miss Essa took it with a solemn nod. “I quite agree.”

Without another word, Keith took off sprinting down the beach. It made his still tired muscles burn, and the sun was beating mercilessly at his back. He could’ve walked. He could’ve called out. He knew this and chose to run all the same. His heart was hammering harder than it needed to, his lungs already burning. He waited until the figure he was running towards was only a few feet away before calling out.

“Lance!”

Lance whipped his head towards Keith, eyes wide as Keith crashed into him, his momentum sending them both tumbling towards the waiting waves. Keith’s lips clumsily found Lance’s, lingering for only a second before pulling away, sputtering and shivering from the ice cold water. Lance looked stunned, completely at a loss for words, at least for a moment.

Then, he began to laugh, fully and vibrantly. “That time was definitely your fault!”

Keith snorted, accidentally getting salt water up his nose and coughing profusely while Lance continued to laugh, nearly falling backwards into the water. When Keith finally recovered, his sinuses still burning, he tried to scowl, but ended up with a crooked smile.

“I cannot believe I’m in love with you.”

Lance paused at that, eyes dancing like the ocean behind them.

“You--you what now?” he stammered, cheeks suddenly and beautifully bright red.

Keith smiled even wider, gently cradling Lance’s face in his hands. “You heard me. I’m in love with you, really and truly.”

It dawned on Lance’s face as steadily as the sun, and when it did, it was like he was the sun all over again. He pulled Keith towards him, and Keith let him. This time when they kissed, it was less frantic, their lips pressing together easily. Despite the chill of the water, Lance’s lips were warm and tasted of sea salt, a taste that Keith knew he would never tire of. When they pulled apart, they gave each other only just enough space to breathe--their lips still brushed each other with every smile, every contented sigh.

“Took you long enough to figure it out,” Lance huffed.

“I know,” Keith murmured, resting his forehead against Lance’s. “I’m sorry I made you wait.”

Lance smiled, and pressed a quick kiss to the corner of Keith’s mouth. “Honestly? I would’ve waited until the sun itself burned out.”

“So dramatic,” Keith said exasperatedly, brushing Lance’s still-red cheek with his thumb.

“Yeah, but you love me anyways,” Lance teased.

“Yeah,” Keith agreed, his chest swelling with what could only be described as sheer happiness. “I do.”

If there were any vestiges of a cold, dark world lingering anywhere, they were surely driven away when they kissed again.

[tenipurireads]

Lessons in Ethics | Reader x Yanagi Renji

                                  YANAGI RENJI x F!READER

Much of you is unpredictable and before unearthing that discovery. . .you were seen as an enigma. He never really knew you, never really had a reason to set his eyes on you. It’s not that there was any reason behind his evasion; rather. . . He simply had other obligations. You never had a reason to be bothered by it; it’s not like you interpreted his actions as neglect. Why would you? You were strangers in a sea of familiar faces and once in a blue moon, you were allowed to be greeted with a smile.

His attention, as always, is set somewhere else. He keeps himself busy; buries face into piles of notes filled with scribbles and someone else’s secrets. Class has yet to start and yet, he’s already engaging in some kind of study. But despite his deep immersion in text, he knows he is being watched. Very briefly, he lifts head and allows gaze to fall upon foreign frame. He knows this face, but not enough about it, but he extends a gentle smile as if implying peace. Your body wants to say something and he reads the intentions well. Brunette parts from his writing and invites her over. When he says your name, it’s filled with curiosity. Why you? Why here? He assumes you intend to engage in small talk ( he’s 85% sure - the other 15% assumes it’s related to homework ), but is surprised when different words leave your lips.

“Yanagi-san...” He never noticed how you practically dip his name in honey. It sounds so sweet leaving the lips of someone he hardly knows, but he brushes this sentiment to the side. “I know that you collect data for the team, but...” He notes your struggle with this statement; he assumes you’re trying not to sound stupid. But you don’t, you never have; in fact, the hesitance has him all the more intrigued. “Do you...ever need someone to maybe input all that data into a larger spreadsheet?”

A brow is raised. Out of instinct, a hand motions to cup chin, implying that he’s in thought. It seems he was incorrect. It’s his own fault for not giving you enough attention. Much of his curiosity remains peaked; just where exactly did that request come from? He, again, makes an assumption: is this her attempt at squeezing in a confession? It wouldn’t be the first time someone inquired about his data, just to slide in their affections. “We’re in Statistics together, you know... I’ve never been good at things that I can’t apply to, like... Real life. So, I guess I just figured, if I got a chance to do what you do, it’d be easier for me.” He’s wrong again. But your face is so genuine, he knows that he’s right about that. Leaning back into chair, arms motion across chest. He doesn’t say it, but he’s impressed. Most would simply want to study ( or just take his answers ), but you want to really learn. “There could be an issue...” His voice is deep. He reaches into the caverns of his lungs to withdraw these words. Despite the severity in tone, he’s trying to appear playful. He only really hints at those intentions when a humble smirk emerges. “You can’t access a dataset that might contain information about yourself. It’s just not ethical.” 

“Ethical...?” What would he know about that word. How he attains his information is quite questionable. You repeat the word back to him, but as if to challenge his statement. Your own lips curl deviously and you say to him, almost in a whisper, “then I’ll just replace it with information about you.” Oh... How quickly one can bloom into something beautiful. Your wit is dangerous and he is immersed within your wicked words. Have you always had your eyes on him? This moment is the only thing that could ever make him assume so. But he’s been wrong twice now and right only once. . . The odds are not in his favor. To some, that’s a pity. But for you? It just means you transcend past strangers.

“And what do you know so far?” He says while entertaining this dance between devils. You cover your mouth to laugh, suppressing the excitement in stomach. In truth, you only know what’s on the surface. . . But you can bluff and that, in turn, will usually get him to reveal so much more. Fingers curl into palm, but your index finger remains pressed to your lips as you say, “That’s a secret. But I know your answer is yes.” It is - you’re quite good. He responds with a chuckle, one that is just as sensuous as the rest of how he sounds. He’s amused by your current engagement and doesn’t really have a reason to decline. He could do all of this on his own, but. . . You’re fun. He likes that.

He slides over piles of paper, but never shifts his gaze from yours. You have embedded yourself into his scene; you’ve grown roots and wrapped themselves around him. All it takes is a moment. Surely the kind of connection alone is unethical.

“I suppose I’ll allow the access...”

[quarantineroulette]

Minor Disappointments’ Least Disappointing Releases of 2018

Preamble: I had a bit of a low (not Low, although that would’ve been preferable) period in 2018 that went on for several months. I didn’t really listen to music during that time, and so I missed out on a lot of things. I’m kind of too scatterbrained from holiday hysteria to really take in anything new. So these lists probably don’t designate “the best”, but they’re decent documents of what I wasn’t too distracted or down to take serious notice of.

Secondly, my own band released an album this year, and that occupied a large amount of time normally reserved for listening to other bands. I won’t rank it because I don’t want to be that conceited...but if you want to check it out for yourself, the highlights for me are “For the Rest to Rest”; “Open Up the Ways”; “Screen Test”; and “Suspend Disbelief”. One of my favorite reviews of it described our sound as being a “unique blend of post-punk, brit-pop, indie, and a little post-rock too.” and said we’re “one of the smartest bands to come out of Brooklyn in a very long time.” This is both why people should listen to it and also why they might not.

Thirdly, one of the things I listened to the most this year was Protomartyr’s Consolation EP, but I’m refraining from listing it as it’s not a full-length. That said, I think it’s as good as nearly anything I’ve heard this year, Protomartyr are the best and both of their live sets I caught were my favorite gigs of 2018. TLDR: Protomartyr = good. Most other things on this list = equally good but not Protomartyr. Let’s get started shall we?

10 Songs That Were Good: 

10) Neko Case & Mark Lanegan - Cures of the I-5 Corridor. How has a Neko Case / Mark Lanegan duet not existed until 2018?? No matter the year, something this gorgeous and heartbreaking is always worthy of making the cut.

9) Lana Del Rey - Mariners Apartment Complex . I remember Spencer Krug tweeting something kind of snarky about “Venice Bitch” a few months back, then deleting it, and damn well he should’ve because both that and “Mariners Apartment Complex” are blinders. “Venice” may be the most low-key epic ever, but the way “Mariners” takes hints of Leonard Cohen and Lee Hazlewood / Nancy Sinatra and places them in a pop context is perhaps even more admirable. It’s truly inspiring to hear mainstream music this nuanced.

8) Parquet Courts - Tenderness . I love the jaunty piano, and how Andrew Savage’s vocal take is simultaneously forceful and lax. But most of all I love how all its elements converge to create a sense of hard-won optimism.

7) Iceage - Thieves Like Us . Iceage do a swamp cabaret song and I just can’t love it enough.  

6) MGMT - Me and Michael . Yes, it’s ridiculously ‘80s, but you would have to be a very dour person to not smile whenever that opening synth riff kicks in.

5) Shame - One Rizla . Riff of the year. Hands down.

4) Bodega - Jack in Titanic . One of the great things about 2018 was witnessing Bodega’s success. To me, they’ve always been one of the few up-and-coming indie bands with the  charisma to be actual stars, and it’s been a joy seeing the rest of the world take note of this. From the moment I heard “Jack in Titanic”, I just knew it was destined to show up on a BBC Radio 6 A-or-B list at some point in the near future (and it did!). And yeah, they’re my good friends, but even if they were strangers I’d appreciate the smartness, melodic hooks, and sexiness all the same:

3) Preoccupations - Disarray . Click on that link because the song is really good, but be warned -- the vocal melody is never, ever going to leave you.

2) Protomartyr - Wheel of Fortune . This song has everything: a nerve-wracking stop and start guitar part, an at-once badass and terrifying refrain, Kelly Deal, and the exact sense of urgency that’s needed right now. Powerful, timely, and a rare example of a song that puts its guest star to highly effective use.

1) Janelle Monae - Make Me Feel . This song combines about five different Prince songs but Janelle Monae’s personality is so strong that the end result is something wholly her own. And if the song weren’t a blast on its own, the technicolor video is almost lethally fun: 

10 Albums That I Loved A Lot: 

10) Arctic Monkeys - Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino . I really loved this album but I’m ranking it as 10 just because it’s the Arctic Monkeys and I can’t believe I enjoyed anything they’ve produced *this* much -- especially a lounge album about a casino on the moon. I find Alex Turner overrated as a lyricist and cosplaying a Bad Seed isn’t endearing to me, but he obviously loves Scott Walker a lot so I guess he gets some sort of pass.

9) Moonface - This One’s of the Dancer and This One’s for the Dancer’s Bouquet . The only reason this isn’t ranked higher is because I haven’t been able to give it the attention it deserves. This is a concept album where some songs are sung from the pov of the Minotaur and others from Spencer Krug, and both these creatures are enigmatic are too enigmatic to be given mere surface reads. This all said, I’ve listened enough to glean that, as always, Spencer’s lyrics are awe-inspiring, the marimba is implemented well, the alternate version of “Heartbreaking Bravery” is excellent, and comparing and contrasting its themes with those found on Wolf Parade’s 2017 release Cry Cry Cry is a fun past time if you’re me or seven other people. Looking forward to delving deeper in 2019.

8) Janelle Monae - Dirty Computer . To be honest, I *was* a little disappointed in this. It’s not as cinematic or stylistically adventurous as Monae’s previous full-lengths, but I think Monae herself is extremely talented and I wish she was a much bigger star. Furthermore, when considered against the drek of the general pop landscape, this is still a bold, unpredictable, and intelligent pop record from a true enigma.

7) Luke Haines - I Sometimes Dream of Glue . Like “Kubla Khan” if it had been written after huffing a river full of glue, but instead of Xanadu it’s an English village full of miniature people having a orgy:

6) Parquet Courts - Wide Awake! . No other song better captures the frustrations and anxieties of living in NY in 2018 than “Almost Had to Start a Fight / In and Out of Patience”, and for that alone this album would make the year-end cut. But it also happens to be brilliant start to finish, with the two closing statements, in the form of “Death Will Bring Change” and “Tenderness” respectively, being among PC’s best.

5) Low - Double Negative .  Mimi Parker’s voice emerging from a sonic cocoon on “Fly” is one of the most gripping moments of Low’s fantastic career. This album challenged me the most in 2018, but it’s also one I frequently returned to, determined to crack its code.

4) Preoccupations - New Material . I suppose some would dismiss this as too trad. post-punk, but holy hell - these trad. post-punk songs have got some hooks! And there isn’t quite another singer like Matt Flegel, who somehow manages to channel Bowie and Mark Lanegan at the same time. I’ve listened to this so much that New Material already feels like a well-loved classic.

3) Gazelle Twin - Pastoral . I would argue that Pastoral is the closest anyone’s come to making something comparable to PJ Harvey’s Let England Shake. An electro-pagan examination of Britain’s heritage and history (and the whole Brexit thing) that manages to feel thorough despite only being 37 minutes long, Pastoral moves beyond being just “a record” and becomes something closer to contemporary art. Elizabeth Bernholz’s vocals, whether warped or unconstrained by processing, are remarkable throughout. A mash-up of folk traditions and modern beats that somehow works shockingly well:

2) Idles - Joy as an Act of Resistance . Boyfriend / bandmate James and I have discussed this album more than any other this year, and it’s been a pleasure hearing his love for it and forming my own appreciation of it in the process. What sealed it for me was James’ description of “Idles” as pagan, and how the band’s use of repetition and simple melodies (as well as their bacchanalian stage presence) created an air of ritualism. In their primalness, they even remind me of The Birthday Party - a “woke” Birthday Party, but a Birthday Party all the same. My favorite musical moment of the year may very well be Joe Talbot’s first shout of “UNITY!” in “Danny Nedelko”, primordial, raw, unpretentious, and completely punk. We *need* these guys right now:

1) Suede - The Blue Hour . There is a joke in the TV show 30 Rock in which Jack Donaghy -- Alec Baldwin’s network head character -- says he attended Harvard Business School, where he was voted “Most”. The Blue Hour could be considered “Most” -- it’s meant to be taken as one piece, it’s insanely grandiose and, like its predecessor Night Thoughts, listening to it makes everything in my life seem 18 times more dramatic and tragic. I don’t know how, but this bizarre mashup of Kate Bush, Jacques Brel, Pink Floyd, Scott Walk, Gregorian chanting, classic Suede, spell books and (of course) David Bowie somehow seems bizarrely in step with 2018. Seeing as this top three consists of albums that are arguably “pagan”, and folk horror’s representation in popular 2018 films like Hereditary, The Blue Hour feels accidentally on trend. It’s crazy to think that a band whose first release happened 25 years ago could still be relevant in 2018, but Suede somehow are so please give these dads a hand and then listen to The Blue Hour’s glorious closing trio of songs a lot, because boy are they “Most”.  

[writerlilahsuzanne]

Adrift - A Tack & Jibe short

Bodhi must have been a dragonfly in a past life. Or maybe a frog or a turtle or something else that thrives in the mess and muck of nature. It would explain how her body and soul settle and still out here in the Sound where the brackish water is placid, where it’s as if her kayak is slicing through a sheet of opaque glass.

She has mud and up to her knees from dragging her kayak through the surrounding wetlands, her long sun-streaked blonde hair sticks in sweaty clumps to her neck and forehead, and her own earthy scent swirls around her in the slow, heavy breeze: dirt and musk and patchouli shampoo and coconut sunscreen and lemon-eucalyptus bug spray that only sort of works.

When Bodhi was younger, her moms would have to beg her to come inside and take a bath, to sit at the table like a civilized person and do homework or chores that she never quite saw the point of. Why work on long division when she could climb a tree? Why study old men and the dates of wars when she could scoop tadpoles from a creek. Isn’t that more real? Life squiggling in her cupped palms, sturdy branches holding her, safe, up in the sky? And anyway, her moms always encouraged her to be free and wild and so she is.

It’s meditative, the rhythm of her paddles dipping in and out of the water; one side, then the other. Gentle waves glide along her boat, the seagrass and wild oats dance to the wind, the trees set farther back rustle with life. Along the way, Bodhi spots a flock of Redhead ducks that float in a clump near the shore, Seagulls and Royal Terns loudly scavenge for food and fish, Cormorants fly high above. She even spots a Great Blue Heron, long-legged and graceful and impossibly huge, picking its way slowly through the shallows. The Great Heron spreads its wings suddenly, perhaps startled by Bodhi and her bright red kayak, and takes flight. Bodhi drifts and watches it soar across the sky. Perhaps she was a bird, before, in a different life. She could spend hours or even days out here, all alone among the for birds.

“Hey, can we make a pit stop at the Visitor Center?”

She isn’t all alone. “Sure.” Bodhi smiles back at Hunter who is keeping pace behind Bodhi in her own kayak. Bodhi doesn’t mind the company, she’s out here with friends often, in fact, a whole group of them paddling the sound, or sailing between and around the chain of islands that make up the Outer Banks, or hiking through the dedicated nature preserve that takes up nearly half of this island. Hunter is around a lot lately. Like, always around a lot lately. Bodhi isn’t sure what she should take from that, exactly.

The Porter Island Visitor Center comprises two single-room buildings, one a museum-slash-information center, one a gift shop, both raised up a few feet on decks that connect via a weathered wooden walkway. There’s an outbuilding-type bathroom—barely more high-tech than an outhouse—and in the gift shop there’s a much nicer air-conditioned single stall restroom. They dock, and Hunter heads toward the gift shop.

When Bodhi moved here several years ago with her moms, the Visitor Center was one of their first stops. It was so quaint; a little sand- and salt-speckled shack with lighthouse and beach themed goods for sale. In the adjacent museum there is an entire wall dedicated to the years Blackbeard the pirate used the island’s shallow sound as a refuge in his downtime between the murders and pillages. There’s another whole wall about the island’s lighthouse. But Bodhi quickly adapted from suburban to tiny-island style living and now can’t imagine ever being anywhere else.

Bodhi idly browses the small sea-themed trinkets and a few racks of postcards, a shelf of hats and one of Porter Island t-shirts. There’s a section dedicated to books by local authors and books about local history and about the flora and fauna of the island. Bodhi flips through a book about seabirds. When Hunter emerges from the bathroom, she scans the gift shop until she finds Bodhi, then smiles like the sun coming out. Huh. That’s new.

“Ready?” Hunter freshened up while she was in the bathroom; her hair is smoothed down and damp with water instead of sweat, her light makeup touched up, and there’s no trace of dirt or grime. It’s interesting only because Hunter typically isn’t very fussy about that sort of thing. Sometimes, but she’s usually chill about... Well, everything. That’s why Bodhi likes hanging out with her. And doing other stuff with her.

“Yup. Ready.”

As they head out of the store, though, Hunter stops at the checkout counter and snags a giant sun hat from a spinning rack. “You’re so fair; you should get this.” She plops it on Bodhi’s head as the young-looking cashier watches them with obvious interest.

“This hat is like, excessive,” Bodhi says, tugging at the extremely wide brim. It’s one of those floppy sun hats, a rich lady sipping cocktails while on a yacht type hats. “Anyway, the sun is good for you.” Bodhi hooks the ridiculous hat back onto the rack. Cashier Boy’s mouth flicks up into a tiny smile. He’s cute. Too young, though, probably only eighteen or nineteen, Bodhi would guess. Bodhi is a little unsettled by that; being at a stage in her life now that someone that age would be too young for her to be interested in. Is this what getting old and mature feels like? Gross.

“The sun is good for you in small doses.” Hunter moves in closer still, brushes her thumb across Bodhi’s cheekbone. “All of those gorgeous freckles won’t be so lovely when they turn into melanoma.” Bodhi wrinkles her nose. Hunter’s thumb lingers at the corner of her jaw. Hunter’s eyes are pretty, Bodhi thinks. Like, she knew that but she hadn’t paid that much attention to them before. Well, she has. Just not this much. They’re like, ochre. Or a tiger’s eye gemstone.

“You guys are a cute couple.”

Bodhi startles and moves backward; Hunter’s hand briefly hovers mid-air then falls away. “No, we’re—” Hunter says, as Bodhi stutters out, “We aren’t— We’re—” But what even are they? A summer hookup that’s lasted four summers and now more? Friends, now that Hunter lives on Porter Island full time? Really good friends? Really good friends who hook up sometimes, but then go for long stretches without hanging out at all because it gets too intense too fast and yet they keep finding their way back together, as if it’s something cosmic or inevitable but neither of them really want it to be, unless they do?

It’s too complicated, too much to understand yet alone explain so Bodhi finishes her thought with a casual shrug.

It’s whatever.

“We should get back out there,” Hunter says, saving them all from the awkward moment. Bodhi doesn’t do awkward, so she’s grateful.

Back out on the water, Bodhi can’t seem to lose herself in the natural world like she always does. The cashier’s comment, and Hunter’s face after… Her own vehement reaction… Why Hunter has been around so much lately…

“Do you want to stay over tonight?” Hunter calls, trailing behind Bodhi’s kayak once again.

They usually end these excursions by falling into someone’s bed, or sleeping bag, or boat, or, once, a rustic treehouse. And usually it’s casual. It’s chill. Neither of them care to put a label on it because it’s just sex but if things have changed for Hunter, that means Bodhi should probably put a stop to it. Hunter’s her friend and that means something to Bodhi. She doesn’t hurt her friends, not on purpose.

“I dunno. I have to work early.” She never really has to work, let alone early, her moms are cool with Bodhi helping at the sailing shop they own whenever she’s in the mood to help. More or less. She probably should go in though, so it’s not a total lie. “But we can hang after if that’s chill.”

Bodhi can’t see her, and doesn’t crane around to look, but she can hear the disappointment in Hunter’s voice all the same. “Sure yeah, it’s chill.”

Bodhi is now certain that it’s anything but.

+++

At dusk, Bodhi sets up shop on the back deck, a packed bowl on the glass table in front of her, her bare feet propped up next to her phone, a full backpack ready to go next to her reclined patio chair. She waits.

The location is always a secret until the very last moment; a precaution so no one reports their activities and sends everyone scurrying away and they miss the entire event. Tonight an event Bodhi has been waiting for, since she missed the last one. Accidentally fell asleep, her own fault. Her friend on the inside will text her when it’s go time, so Bodhi watches the sun go down and the moon come out as her eyelids grow heavier and her mind and body relax. But not too relaxed; not this time.

She planned to go with Hunter tonight but…

“Hey.” Willa slides the back door open. Her curly hair is extra wild tonight; Bodhi loves that. She loves that her roommate and best friend is both predictable—never late for a shift at the sail shop, never oversleeps, never once missed a bill’s due date—and also totally off the rails unpredictable. Bodhi really never knows what Willa will do next. She’s predictable in her unpredictableness.

“Whoa, galaxy brain moment.”

Willa’s eyes narrow. “What?”

“Nothing.” Bodhi drops her feet to the deck. “‘Sup dude. Join me.”

Willa picks up the bowl and then holds it away from her, skeptical-like—sometimes she’ll partake, sometimes she won’t, but she always grabs first and hesitates later—then sits at the table next to Bodhi and picks up the blown-glass bowl and lighter.

“What are you doing tonight?”

A flame lights Willa’s face, she smokes and coughs and croaks, “Mostly questioning all of my life choices.”

Bodhi laughs, Willa is always so funny, even when she doesn’t mean to be. Especially then. “Same. But like,” Bodhi loses her train of thought when a cloud passes over the dimly lit moon. It’s wicked. What was she— “Oh. Yo, come with me tonight.” It’s not usually Willa’s scene, this sort of thing, but Bodhi couldn’t say with certainty what Willa scene really is except like, nothing or everything or… Something. Anyway, Bodhi doesn’t want to go alone, and that’s the relevant point.

Willa squints one eye closed, and fixes Bodhi with the other. “Sit around outside in the dark for hours, get eaten alive by mosquitos and no-see-ums while we wait for something that might happen?”

Bodhi grins. “Hell yeah.”

“I thought you were going with Hunter.”

Bodhi waves a hand in the air. She means it to be exactly as vague as it is.

“What’s up with you two?” Willa takes the bowl again and manages not to cough, and sits back more comfortably in her chair. There was time, at the very beginning, that Bodhi thought she and Willa might be something more than friends. First of all, Bodhi was very into the hot skater chick thing, and Willa is smart and determined and super fun besides, but she’s glad they only ended up friends. Bodhi gets a little emotional thinking about not having Willa around and has to smoke a little more weed to settle herself down.

“C’mon, come with me,” Bodhi tries again, when she’s sure she won’t sound too invested in Willa’s answer. “It’s cool, I promise.”

“Another night I would, I’m just so tired with everything going on and—”

Bodhi's phone goes off with a text, and she scrambles to get it. It’s the coordinates for tonight, so it’s now or never, or least not for another several weeks at least. And yet, Bodhi stays in her chair and watches her phone go dark again. “Maybe I’ll skip it,” she says it mostly to herself. “I don’t really want to go alone.”

Willa looks at her with alarm. She’s not the only one. Since when does Bodhi care about doing things alone? Since now, apparently.

“Bo, is it possible you miss Hunter? I mean you two were like, glued together and now you aren’t even speaking to her.”

It won’t be the same without Hunter there. That’s the issue. But why? Too stoned for this conversation and these thoughts, Bodhi’s mind is a jumble of feelings and half-formed ideas and spiraling tangents. She doesn’t have an answer for Willa, or herself, so she shrugs, as if she doesn’t care. She does, though. Too much. Way too much.

Willa stands, grabs the bowl and lighter from the table and plops Bodhi’s backpack into her lap. “Go watch your turtle eggs hatch.”

Federal law prohibits the sea turtle rescue organization from posting the location of active nests. It keeps the turtles safe and keeps flocks of tourists from gathering en mass on the beaches and bothering everyone who lives nearby. Bodhi’s friend Kea volunteers for the organization, she regularly patrols the beaches looking for nests and collects data, keeping tabs on the number of hatchlings that conquer the hard-won journey out to sea.

“You made it.” Kea keeps her voice low and ducks in for a quick hug.

The sea turtle rescue organization has already roped off a small section of the beach, and a handful of volunteers mill around nearby. There’s about ten other people gathered farther back, including a family with two young kids. Bodhi wonders if their parents are aware that they’ll likely be up until morning. Her moms brought her to a few of these hatchings when she was a kid, so she doesn’t judge. It’s cool, actually.

Kea goes off to take some measurements of the nest and count the eggs. It’s a Hawksbill nest, they think, so there are likely hundreds of babies getting ready to hatch. Bodhi finds a spot back with the rest of the non-volunteers. The kids are digging holes in the sand and jumping in and out of them, though their parents are making sure they don’t get too loud or wound up. Bodhi’s buzz has worn off. The night is humid and sticky. She does miss Hunter.

“Did you know sea turtles can hold their breath for seven hours?” Bodhi says to the kids when they scurry past her. They both stop. “And some kinds of sea turtles eat jellyfish.” Bodhi glances back to the parents to make sure they don’t mind her talking to their kids. “Do you guys already know that the babies have to find their way to the ocean all by themselves?” They both nod, in sync. She guesses one or both of them has an interest in sea turtles and probably have a few facts collected of their own. They’re quiet for a few beats, and then the smaller one asks,

“How?”

Bodhi tips her head. “How do they find the ocean?”

“Yeah… Yeah 'cuz if the mom leaves them and they’re just borned--”

“Born,” the other kid corrects.

“If they’re just born— How do they know where to go?”

Bodhi likes how innately curious kids are, how they instinctively yearn to explore the world around them and aren’t afraid to ask questions, to admit when they don’t understand things. She tries to keep that spirit alive in herself.

“Well,” Bodhi draws her knees up to her chest and smiles up at the kids. “Sea turtles are phototactic. Do you know what that means?” They shake their heads no. “It means they’re drawn to light. Like, when you have your porch light on at night and moths and other bugs all come to fly around it? Same thing. So when they’re born, the moon reflecting on the ocean tells them where to go. Cool right? Like, the moon and the ocean are calling to them, telling them where their home is.”

“Yeah!” says one.

“That’s why it has to stay dark,” the other one says, quiet, a little shyer than their smaller sibling.

Bodhi glances back to the parents again. “Right. And the beach at night can seem a little scary, but we’re totally safe and we want to make sure the baby turtles don’t get confused and go the wrong way. They could get too tired or hurt or a predator could get them and that’s not good.”

Bodhi talks sea turtle facts with the junior turtle enthusiasts a little longer, until Kea returns to announce two hundred and twelve eggs total.

“Can I take a peek?” Observers have to stay back, but Bodhi’s a regular at this point. Kea nods and leads Bodhi to the nest that’s illuminated only by the light of the moon.

“So when are you joining our ranks?” Kea asks while Bodhi crouches near the nest. She always asks that, when Bodhi will start volunteering for the rescue. Everyone else on the volunteer team is like, getting their PhD in turtle nesting or whatever, or else retired conservationists with more experience and knowledge than Bodhi will have in her entire life, so.

“Yeah, I’m good.” It sounds dismissive, she knows. As if she doesn’t care. But that’s better than everyone knowing she doesn’t have much to offer.

“All right, all right. You’d be so good in outreach and education, though. Especially with kids.”

Bodhi shrugs. Scratches her neck. “The trainings are too early…”

Kea wisely leaves it alone, though she changes the subject to something else Bodhi doesn’t want to talk about. “Oh, hey, where’s your girlfriend tonight? Hunter, right?”

+++

“I thought you were avoiding me?”

“I was.”

Hunter shifts in the doorway; her hips cocked, one arm braced against the doorjamb, the other stretched across. She’s tiny, a pixie with short brown hair and delicate features and round doe eyes, yet she takes up the entire doorway. “And?”

“And… Now I’m not?”

Hunter doesn’t move. She lifts an eyebrow. If she tells Bodhi to get lost—and she should—Bodhi will do it. But this is their dance: On and off, up and down, together and not. Hunter must be tired of it, though. Bodhi can tell because it’s usually Hunter who comes calling, and Bodhi who gives in once again. Bodhi says nothing and Hunter says nothing, then Hunter finally drops her arms and retreats into the muted cool of her condo, leaving the door open for Bodhi to come in.

This was easier when Hunter was only in Porter Island for the summer, four years of summer months working at one of her mom’s restaurants while she finished school. There was an end date, and Bodhi didn’t have to worry about what Hunter might want after that. Or what she wanted.

“How did the hatching go?” Hunter sits in a hard-backed leather chair, her arms and legs crossed. Hunter’s inherited home decor has always made Bodhi think of a law office waiting room, all heavy wood and leather and polished chrome. Such a contrast to Bodhi’s moms’ colorful bohemian vibe, or the kitschy beach-themed cottage she shares with Willa. The entire condo came as a gift, furniture and decor and everything, a life already chosen for Hunter.

“Good. Kea asked me to join their volunteer corps again.” Bodhi sprawls across the couch, her thighs stick to the black leather.

“You should.”

Bodhi shrugs. Hunter thinks she should do a lot of things. Bodhi sighs and stretches, her t-shirt and shorts bunch up, her hair falls loosely across her face. She knows what she’s doing, and it works. Hunter’s gaze shifts from exasperation to clear desire, and Bodhi wishes they could just keep things the same between them. It’s hot and fun and easy. Why does it have to get complicated just because Hunter moved here? “Look, Hunter. We’ve talked about this. I’m not looking for...” She leaves the statement unfinished because what is she looking for? A time machine? A way to capture the perfect summer fling and put it up somewhere for safekeeping, like fireflies captured in a jar?  

“I’m aware.” Hunter’s lips press flat, her eyes flick away. She gets Bodhi. It’s too much, sometimes. “And I’m not asking you to.”

Bodhi sits up. “Okay, then… Okay.”

Sea turtles bury their eggs deep in the sand, Bodhi told the two kids she’d befriended yesterday. They stayed all night and, enraptured, watched the hatchlings take to the sea. Buried so deep that by the time the babies hatch and claw their way to the surface the mama turtle is long gone, far out to sea. One of the kids asked, eyes wide with hope, if they ever find each other, if they might meet up out in the ocean one day. The ocean is too big, their sibling answered, matter of fact. So, so huge it’s impossible. But Bodhi wondered if maybe they did. Despite the odds, perhaps they could find each other someday.

Bodhi stands and offers her hand, reaching out across the expanse. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you.”

Hunter looks up. “You should have.”

“Yeah.” She should do a lot of things.

Hunter takes her hand and rises from the stiff chair, lips pouted and shoulders high. Bodhi tugs her close and kisses her until she stops frowning. Hunter releases a long breath and her body relaxes into Bodhi’s arms. She’s pliable and willing, and so Bodhi walks them to the bedroom and pulls off first Hunter’s clothes and then her own. She’s been with Hunter so many times that the taste of her is like coming home. She knows what makes Hunter sigh or moan or fist the sheets at her side or clutch fruitlessly at the carved oak headboard and it should bore Bodhi but it doesn’t at all. Being with Hunter, in bed or out, is easy. Why change that?

It’s quiet after, a heavy quiet, with Hunter curled at Bodhi’s side. Her fingers drift idly across Bodhi’s stomach.

“I applied to graduate school,” Hunter says, voice gone sex-rough. She clears her throat. “At UNC Wilmington, but also other schools that are… Well, farther away. My mom wants me to get serious about taking a regional manager position with the restaurant group. So. I wanted you to know that.”

“Cool,” Bodhi says. Her chest goes tight. “That’s chill.”

Hunter’s hand moves from Bodhi’s stomach, and she rolls away to find her clothes. “Ryan’s having a party tonight if you want—”

“Yeah, definitely.”

She met Hunter at a party like this one, with camping chairs gathered haphazardly around a fire, sand turned orange from the glow, the ocean so dark it bleeds into the sky, impossible to tell where one begins and the other ends.

Silhouettes move across the beach—dancing, laughing, tipsily leaning on one another. It seems to Bodhi as if she knows every single person on this island and has gone home with many of them and it’s so simple for her. It’s fun, like kayaking or sailing or free-falling off of a pier. She doesn’t need labels or relationships or complications. Or at least, she didn’t.

Hunter stays at her side all night, warm and happy. Bodhi keeps her arm slung around Hunter’s hips, a possessive gesture she rarely feels the need to make. She wants to keep her close by is all.

“I’m gonna get another,” Hunter says, waving an empty can in the air. Bodhi blames her own too many empties for tugging Hunter in close and kissing the top of her head. “Hurry back,” Bodhi says. She’s a very affectionate drunk, so she’s been told.

“Hey! Tell your girlfriend to bring her keg tap over!” Ryan is a loud drunk.

Bodhi ignores the first part. “What idiot is dragging a keg down the beach?”

“Me!” Ryan is fun, but… Well, he’s fun.

It’s not late, but Bodhi is already considering packing it in for the night. She’d rather stay in and hang out at Hunter’s, watch TV, smoke a bowl or two. God, she is getting old. If they leave to go get the keg tap, it’s very unlikely she’ll want to return. “Sorry, dude. Not tonight.”

Ryan boos at her and quickly gets distracted by someone who announces they brought vodka. Hunter returns and together they watch the vodka quickly disappear.

The party really is so much like the one where she met Hunter, and like so many more before that, and yet even Bodhi has to admit that it’s changing. Some people have moved on, and younger, wide-eyed and innocent faces have taken their place. The number of friends who have traded partying for jobs that have them up before sunrise is steadily growing, some even with new engagements and recently signed mortgages and 401Ks. Even Ryan is starting medical school in the fall. The guy who once did ten fireball shots in a row and had the brilliant idea to surf on the top of someone’s Jeep, fell off and found out two days later that he broke his arm in three places will be a doctor.

And next to go will be Hunter. Bodhi tugs her in close again.

+++

“Where’s your girlfriend?”

Bodhi is barely two steps into the marina when Mr. Kelley accosts her. “Why does everyone think we’re together?” Even her footsteps on the floating dock sound petulant, a sulking slap slap slap. Mr Kelley shrugs. He’s the owner of the marina next door to her parent’s sailing shop, and a family friend.

“I suppose you have a— You’re vibing.”

Bodhi pauses. “Mr. Kelley did you really say ‘vibing’?”

“I have nieces and nephews,” he defends. He’s white-haired and sun-worn with a slow, drawling accent and a heart of gold. “Anywho, let’s get to work.”

Once every summer, Mr. Kelley moves the long-time dockers and rental boats into a dry dock to scrape off the coatings of barnacles that have attached to the hulls, and after, applies a coating to slow the accumulation of the sticky little crustaceans. It’s difficult, dirty, exhausting work that Bodhi refuses to let Mr. Kelley do by himself.

“The bane of my existence,” Mr. Kelley says as they set to work on the first hull, while seawater still sluices off in rivulets. They’re definitely a nuisance, the barnacles, as they not only look unsightly but cause significant drag in the water and a waste of fuel in motorized vessels. Bodhi thinks they’re kinda neat, though.

“What’s really cool is like, their adhesive is one of the strongest substances on Earth. The tensile strength is crazy.”

Mr. Kelley grunts. “I believe it.”

They’re also super important to the ocean’s ecosystem since they clean the water like crusty little filters. They also eat with their legs and have the largest penis relative to body size of any animal. So that’s something. Which reminds her…

“Mr. Kelley,” Bodhi calls out over the frantic scraping. “How about you? Any new men you want to dish about?”

“Bah,” he says. “Men.” Which Bodhi takes as a no. Mr. Kelley spends all of his time out on this marina. Unless the perfect man comes sailing in one day and sweeps him off his feet, it’s never gonna happen. Bodhi tried to get him to join a dating app, but he waved her off and claimed he was too old.

Bodhi doesn’t bring it up again until they’ve finished one boat and started working on another. Her arms and shoulders are already sore, but in a good way.

“Let me set you up with someone.”

He sprays off his scraper with the hose, cups some fresh water in his hands, and splashes it on his face. “What is it you told me, Miss Bodhi? Love looks like a lot of things?” He sweeps his arms out toward the marina, the ocean, the sky. “What if this is my great love?”

Bodhi can’t argue with that. She could see herself ending up the same way, her love of the natural world around her could be enough to fill her heart. The thing is, though, she has strong feelings for Hunter. She can admit that. But what she wants to do with those feelings is the issue. She doesn’t really do monogamy and as much as she admires and appreciates her moms’ super-solid relationship, she just doesn’t think it’s for her. And so she’s at a fork in the road: be with Hunter, settle down, commit; or accept that Hunter will be the one that got away. Which can she live with?

The sun is sharp on her skin, sweat pools in her clavicles and between her shoulder blades and settles damply in the waistband of her shorts. She mops her face with the end of her shirt and takes a water break.

“Can I ask you, like. A totally non-judgmental question?”

Mr. Kelley’s face is red from exertion and the heat. He raises his eyebrows and comes to sit on the dock pile next to the one she’s perched on. “Okay, shoot.”

“Are you happy?” It seems like a rude question, but she thinks Mr. Kelley will understand what she means. He’s way chill for an old dude. “Like, actually happy out here alone, doing your own thing? Or would you trade it for something else— Or like, someone else?”

Mr. Kelley is thoughtful as he re-hydrates, then he sets his water bottle on the dock with a decisive thunk. “You get to be my age, Miss Bodhi, and you come to understand that some things just are what they are.”

Bodhi nods, squinting into the sun. “Yeah.” She feels like that now.

“Even still,” he continues. “You have but this one, bitty life to live and if you aren’t living in pursuit of the things—and the people—that make you happy, then what’s the point?” He fixes his pale blue eyes on her, somehow getting to the root of Bodhi’s question. “She makes you happy.”

Bodhi shifts on the dock pile, as if trying to move away from the accuracy of the statement. She nods again. “Yeah. She does.”

He stands with some effort and creakily picks up his barnacle scraper. Next year, she’s bringing other people to help with the operation; Mr. Kelley is going to seriously injure himself one of these days. Not that he’d let that stop him. “Then don’t be afraid to imagine what a life of happiness could look like with her. As you said yourself, love looks like a lot of things.”

Bodhi hops up to follow him back to the partially de-barnacled boat. “I have to say, I do not appreciate you using my words of wisdom against me Mr. Kelley.”

Hunter comes over that night, for sex and for dinner and to get stoned, in that order. Bodhi watches her cook linguine with clam sauce and allows herself to imagine it: Hunter there every morning, that faux-hawk bed-head her hair forms itself into and the way she always, very first thing, stumbles mostly asleep to the kitchen for a glass of water. She’s always parched when she wakes up but refuses to keep a water bottle by the bed because she claims it isn’t fresh enough. Bodhi imagines Hunter there to kiss her goodbye when she goes off to the sail shop or to sail or hike or kayak, Hunter there to greet her when she gets home. Dinner together every night. Regular dates with the same person. Regular sex with the same person.

Bodhi can easily use the blueprint of her parents’ incredible marriage to construct a healthy relationship of her own. She knows it takes sacrifice and selflessness and a willingness to put Hunter’s needs and wants in step with her own, always. Ahead of her own, even. But can that fit in with Bodhi’s more fluid definition of commitment? Would Hunter be okay with that? And what if she wants something Bodhi can’t give her?

Hunter sets two plates of food out on the table and gives Bodhi a concerned look before sitting down. “You okay?”

What if Bodhi is too selfish and too afraid of being constrained? If there were anyone that she could see a settled future with, it would be Hunter. If. Bodhi picks up her fork and plasters on a smile. “Definitely. Thanks for dinner.”

“No problem. Your turn next.”

Bodhi fake-smiles harder. “So have you heard from any of those grad programs yet?”

+++

Bodhi has spent the last two weeks at Hunter’s side, at Hunter’s condo, living out of a backpack that contains a toothbrush and two entire outfits that Bodhi swaps back and forth. She uses Hunter’s deodorant and shampoo and toothpaste and hairbrush until Hunter picks up extras for Bodhi at the store and stashes them all in an emptied out drawer. Bodhi spends a long time looking at that drawer. Her drawer. That she has at Hunter’s house.

“I don’t think I’ll ever want to live with anyone,” Bodhi says one night while they watch a movie. She’s draped over Bodhi, legs entwined, her head rests on Bodhi’s chest and her arm is snug around Bodhi’s waist. Hunter shifts a little, presses a kiss right above Bodhi’s sternum. “Okay,” she says. It’s to her credit, Bodhi thinks, that she doesn’t full-out laugh in Bodhi’s face.

One morning, they wake up before dawn to go hiking. Bodhi wakes first, rubs her eyes with both hands and nudges Hunter awake with her foot. Hunter sits up, groggy and mussed, and blinks into the darkness for a while. She grunts and, predictably, stumbles to the kitchen for her morning glass of water. Bodhi’s stomach twists with a deep pull of affection. She makes Hunter eggs and toast with fruit and packs a backpack and they sail out as the sun is beginning to skim the edge of the stretch ocean behind the condo complex.

The trails out on the North Carolina coast are all flat, easy walks; certainly no comparison to the rigorous mountain trails on the other side of the state. But as much as Bodhi likes the challenge of mountain hikes, there’s something special about the maritime forest trails. When they arrive on a different Outer Banks island for their day’s adventure, the hike takes them from the ocean, up the sparsely populated beach, around though the soft dunes, down onto a long boardwalk built over a salt marsh, and on into the woods. Bodhi always marvels at how these towering trees of pine and holly and oak and maple can not only survive but thrive in such a place; how it grows from nothing but shifting sand, withstands harsh winds and hurricanes and sea spray and flooding, and has found a home for thousands of years on a little sliver of an island. She tells Hunter as much.

“The beauty of nature,” Hunter says, offering Bodhi a sip from her water bottle. “Stand back, trust that things will unfold as they should, and amazing things happen.”

Bodhi doesn’t call her out on the obvious metaphor.

On their way out of the trail’s loop, they encounter an older couple looking a bit bewildered. They pass by, then Bodhi doubles back.

“Afternoon.” They’re both wearing khaki safari hats, cargo shorts, and multi-pocketed khaki vests. One of them has binoculars slung over a shoulder, the other has a camera with a huge zoom lens.

“Awesome day for a hike, right?” Bodhi has found that asking people if they’re lost or need help rarely works. People don’t like to admit that they don’t know what they’re doing, even if they’re tourists who have obviously never been here before. But if she waits, they’ll usually bring it up on their own.

“Oh, yes. Hot though!”

Bodhi mmhmms

“Say, can you tell us if this is the Fort Macon Trail?”

“It is,” Bodhi says. “And you can start in this direction because it’s a loop, but if you want the full experience, start from the beach and head into the forest that way. Make sure you follow the trees with white dots once you’re under the canopy, the trail isn’t super obvious in some places.” They thank her and head into the woods first anyway. She waves, walking backward as she adds, because she has a hunch, “Keep an eye out for Painted Buntings! They migrate through here this time of year.”

They give each other a wide-eyed look of excitement and Bodhi smiles as she turns away. She knows a birdwatcher when she sees one, and the colorful member of the cardinal family is a unique find.

“They’re a threatened species,” she tells Hunter once she catches up to her. Hunter’s face reminds Bodhi of the time she studied for something for once in her life and got third place in a spelling bee and her moms sat in the front row, cheering as if Bodhi had received the Nobel Prize. “What?” Bodhi squints at her.

“Nothing, you’re—” She slips her hand into Bodhi’s hand even though it’s sweaty. “You’re good at that. How you share nature with people.”

Bodhi looks away and mumbles, “I only told them about a bird.” It’s not a big deal.

Hunter shrugs, the motion tugs Bodhi’s hand up and down. “Okay,” she says.

Hunter has left the brochures from various schools sitting out on her coffee table for weeks now. Bodhi has looked at them a few times in the same way she kept looking at the drawer of her stuff in Hunter’s house. It’s hers for the taking, so simple, just reach out and grab the hairbrush, Bodhi. Just open the brochure. Just claim what you want already. After their hike, back at Hunter’s condo, while Hunter is in the shower, Bodhi takes a breath and flips a brochure open.

Downtown Porter Island gets crowded as soon as the weather starts to warm, though “downtown” is a very generous term for two streets and a parking lot. Bodhi and Hunter and Bodhi’s Mom and Ma get ice cream cones and find an empty picnic table, baked from the sun, and try to eat faster than the ice cream melts.

“So, Hunter. How are we feeling about grad school? Excited? Nervous? Concerned that you may be only doing this because of the weight of your mother’s expectations?”

“Jeez, Ma. Sometimes the former high school guidance counselor in you really jumps right out.”

Robin gives a pained smile. “Sorry. Only making sure.”

Hunter licks around her ice cream cone and nods. “Actually, I’m excited. UNCW has a solid business management program and I think the job will suit me. I get to travel, meet new people. I’ll be stuck in an office a lot but…” She slides a knowing look to Bodhi. “I’m sure I’ll still spend lots of time enjoying the outdoors.”

Bodhi’s lemon sorbet gets a little stuck as she swallows.

“And it’s not too far,” Jenn, Bodhi’s mom, adds, likely for Bodhi’s benefit. “A quick ferry ride and a drive south a bit.” She pats Hunter’s arm. “Though of course we’ll miss seeing you all the time!” Bodhi swears she emphasizes the words all the time on purpose, also intended for Bodhi.

Hunter’s ice cream drips from the bottom of the cone, first a few drops, but then the soggy cone breaks away and a puddle of blueberry cheesecake quickly pools onto the table. “Shoot,” Hunter raises her sticky hands. “I’m gonna go get some napkins.”

“I’ll help,” Robin says.

As soon as they’re a few steps away, Jenn raises her eyebrows. “So.”

“So,” Bodhi repeats. She quietly eats her ice cream just long enough to bug her. If her Ma had stayed instead, she’d have been totally grilled by now, but Jenn likes to take the good cop role, usually. Bodhi spares her. “UNCW has a forestry degree.”

Her mom’s face plainly says she’s trying very hard not to react to that. “Oh? Is that so?”

“Mmmhmm.” Bodhi crunches into her cone. “It is so.”

Her mom pokes around her own cup of chocolate peanut butter cup with a wooden spoon. “You know, I was wondering how you were planning on handling the long distance relationship thing.”

Bodhi shakes her head. “We’re not in a relationship.”

“Enlighten me then,” her mom says. “What are you?” There’s no intent to argue there, only genuine curiosity and Bodhi can understand why. Even she isn’t sure how to define it, or if she ever really wants to. She’s come to realize that’s okay.

“She’s just— My person.” How else to explain it?

Jenn considers this, tips her head and swirls her ice cream thoughtfully. “Okay. I get that. And I’m excited for you, too. I think forestry is perfect for you, if you decide to pursue that. You know we always support you one-hundred percent, love.”

She does know it.

Hunter and her other mom are heading back, Bodhi watches them talk and laugh as they cross the street and it’s weird, it’s like her heart is bigger; stronger and brighter in her chest.

“I think it’s perfect, too.”

“And Hunter? Is she aware of how you feel?”

Bodhi doesn’t look away from Hunter’s approach, how right Bodhi’s life is when she’s around, how Hunter just knows somehow. “She does.”

She figured it out long before Bodhi ever did.

+++

It’s raining the day of the big protest in Wilmington. Fat drops of it make steam rise from the pavement as they all gather in place. Bodhi is sweltering inside of her raincoat. It does nothing to deter Bodhi and the other protesters, though, if anything it’s spurring them on. This is nature; it’s not always convenient. That’s the whole point.

The school is moving forward with plans to bulldoze an old-growth pine forest on the edge of campus to make way for a new practice field. Hunter has joined some other protesters in locking arms and forming a human blockade between the trees and bulldozers. Bodhi wasn’t crazy about her being directly in harm's way, but Hunter acknowledged Bodhi’s concerns and did what she knew was right anyway. And that’s what Bodhi loves about her.

“Did you know longleaf pine forests used to be one of the most extensive ecosystems across the South?” Bodhi offers a flyer to the small group scurrying by between classes. It’s fifty-fifty if anyone will take the flyer detailing the importance of pine forests and why they’re trying to save this one, and another one-out-three odds the flyer will end up directly in a trash can nearby. But Bodhi figures that's about one in six people who will read it and possibly be moved to join their cause. “And it’s also home to many plants and animals who don't live anywhere else in the world.”

Behind her, the bulldozers rumble.

“The forest you see behind me is nearly five hundred years old!” Aleksi, the leader of this and many other protests shouts through a megaphone. They have a shaved head and face full of piercings and the confidence and carriage of a leader. “It is home to at least thirty endangered species! Now I ask you, students, faculty, staff, esteemed guests, is this really worth sacrificing in order to give the athletic department yet another piece of our beautiful campus?”

The bulldozers finally leave at 7:30. The already gloomy day has grown darker. Everyone is exhausted and hungry and the construction crew will return the next morning, but the mood among all the protesters is jubilant. “The forest stands another day!” Aleksi calls, and everyone cheers. It’s decided that they’ll reconvene at a nearby vegan burrito place to celebrate and plan for tomorrow.

“I think I stared down that one construction worker for three solid hours,” Hunter laughs, lifting an umbrella someone gave her, a little too late, over both of their heads. Bodhi unzips her steamy raincoat.

“You were amazing.” Bodhi flaps her open raincoat in Hunter’s direction, trying futilely to dry her off even as the rain still splashes up from the pavement.

“Thanks.” Hunter drops a kiss on her lips. “Someone who was on the on the front line with me lives on campus and said they have some clothes I can borrow. Be right back.”

Bodhi watches her. An enormous part of her reluctance to commit to, well, anything, was because she was already happy. And what if she changed things and then she wasn’t happy? If it ain’t broke and all. But things change anyway, and like a fjord in a river, she might as well have some input on the direction of her own life. Nature is always changing, life is always and she has to learn when to change with it, and when to fight for the things that matter,

Aleski, in a black trench coat and black combat boots, approaches Bodhi. “Hey, I appreciate you two coming out. Hunter’s really a force, huh? Only quietly.” Aleksi laughs and Bodhi is fully drawn into their aura. Like, they’re super hot anyway, but it’s the charisma that really does it for Bodhi.

“Yeah, she’s something.” If Bodhi is a swiftly moving river, Hunter is a steady stream: under-appreciated and gentle, yet strong and steady enough to cut through a mountain.

Aleksi leans in, eyes lowered, intentions clear. “Is she your girlfriend?”

“No,” Bodhi says. Aleksi’s eyebrows lift. “She’s more than that.”

“Ah.”

Even now, Bodhi can’t quite put a label on their relationship, or if either of them ever really want to. It’s meant that Bodhi has to be more open and vulnerable, and Hunter more demanding of what she wants from Bodhi. Whatever it is, the two of them, it works. They love each other, they’re on the same page, and that’s enough. It’s more than enough.

Aleksi shifts away, their stoic face covering the sting of rejection.

“We’re usually open to a third, though.” Bodhi offers. Plenty of people aren’t really into that and that’s fine. Bodhi puts it out there only as an offer, nothing more. She’ll have to check in with Hunter first, anyway. Though Hunter’s gaze for Aleksi has been nothing short of awe and infatuation—and desire—from the moment the two of them met.

“Like a package deal?” Aleksi clarifies. They smile. It’s awfully charming. “I could be into that.”

Hunter appears from behind a building, now dry and wearing clothes that don’t quite fit. Bodhi’s heart soars. It’s incredible, Bodhi thinks. How rich her life has become by being open to love in all of its forms. Romantic love, sure. But love for her friends and family and the world around her. Although her path there has been a little erratic, adrift for a while in her own life and mind, in the end she got there.

Hunter holds her hand and, on the other side, Aleksi presses in close. Despite the heat and the rain and the exhausting day, Bodhi is buoyant. Her spirit is free.

And they will save that forest. Guaranteed.

Tack & Jibe

[werewolfin]

Flame Headcanons

@i-w-p-chan​ asked me to explain some xover thoughts between Katekyo Hitman Reborn flames & Boku no Hero Academia characters, so buckle up ‘cuz it’s a long post under the read more! Headcanon, ho!

To explain my numbers, I gotta explain a buncha other shit too, lmao.

So basically I got some inspo from micronecro way back when (the post here on my tumblr if you're curious) that Earth Flames & whatnot were all combination Flames. Swamp is Storm+Sun, Forest Sun+Lightning, Mountain Lightning+Rain, Desert Rain+Mist, Glacier Mist+Cloud, & that last mysterious flame being named Geyser for Cloud+Storm.

I also wanted a third part of Flames for the water aspect (Earth is obvs earth, Sky is a combo of fire & air for skies themselves), so I also came up with Ocean Flames & that entire set. The feeling was only reinforced by an offhand comment by nordiamus over on FFN in their Game On xover, really.

So if Sky is the most purely Flame set & Earth is combo, shouldn't Ocean also be some sort of combo? But if the Sky is so common & Earth heard of but not really heard of, then wouldn't Ocean be even more rare?

I eventually settled on a natural 3:4:5 ratio, but to have a ratio I needed to have numbers, so I had to math shit out & also needed to have shorthand symbols so I didn't inevitably confuse myself while making sure they actually showed up in both Notepad & Excel, colors for much the same, & characteristics for the Flames themselves too. Took a long while, but I got everything settled out.

I chose 108 for the point system because it's already a trope, lol. I also made use of Umei-no Mai's Black Sky's headcanon that you actually needed around 5% of each Flame to develop properly, though I had to use it as 6% b/c the math would've become bad math otherwise. This means any singular Flame can only be a value between 6 to 76 out of 108 (6-70%), b/c there’s gotta be at least 6 points (6%) on everything. Here’s a handy chart:

Yellow is where I folded percentages together, red is the tens on the point side, with green the tens on the percent side. A general guideline I use is that you need at least 18% to produce a visible Flame. You can do it with smaller percentages down to 10%, but it requires exceptional control & possibly small reserves (which can also be called depth). (this scenario would also produce a functional sky but it’d be a fairly weak one since it was both not activated as such and not a full state of being for them).

Dying Will Flames of the Sky: NAME: hex code, attribute, symbol (reason if needed) (the link has interesting info), type of resolve (HC from Gokurdera being able to light 5 Flames but not all at once); appearance

STORM: #EB1C23 brilliant red, disintegration, ♋ (looks like hurricane cell; I'm aware it's actually the symbol for Cancer), to take down; low-heat smoldering, smokey upcurls & tongues

SKY: #FFA719 vivid gamboge, harmony, at least 10% (11/108) on all, ☰ (this the trigram symbol for heaven you see), to keep/stay; most like fire w/ flares, wisps, & overall more ethereal movement

SUN: #FFC70F amber, activation, ☀, to improve; like starlight in that it’s constant jetting outwards, more a shining than a straight-up fire

LIGHTNING/THUNDER: #23B04B malachite, hardening, ϟ (this is the only lightning-shaped symbol to show up tbh, it's technically the lowercase Greek letter for Q), to defend; electricity w/ small arcs between branches

RAIN: #99D8E8 cerulean, tranquility, ☂, to slow down; pool water with refraction in slow-motion, more round & globular than a fire except it gives off (what it’s user thinks of as ‘relaxing’) heat

MIST: #3F49CC phthalo blue, construction, ♒ (I couldn't find anything that was explicitly 'fog' or whatever, so I had to make do with whatever worked; it's the symbol for Aquarius, though it also symbolizes wind which is the next best, since mist is a groundbound cloud anyways), to confuse; wispy, almost entirely see through, with off center diffusion of color, the palest of the Flames

CLOUD: #A249A3 moderate magenta, propagation, ☁, to overtake; like puffs of smoke with a natural reach of twice the length of everything else in the Sky set (whole hand length minimum)

Dying Will Flames of the Ocean/Sea: NAME: hex code, attribute, symbol (reason if needed); appearance. Funfact: this set has the most desaturated colors as though it’s deeper in the sea, though if you go for max 240-value saturation they’re still discernible from the other sets.

WHIRLPOOL: #DE7C66 light scarlet, combustion (rapid burning), ☁/♋/☀, ♓ (Pisces symbol, yes, but fish live in pools; also what the fuck, I see literal fish as the symbol everywhere else but this fucking site); elongated fingers of flame that seem to spin or spiral their entire length rather than just the tips like Storm does, like screws or a helix

OCEAN: #FF7700 vivid orange, encompass, 12% (13/108) on all with remainder divided, ☵ (the trigram for water yo; easily distinguishable from both Sky & Earth, even has a mini horizon on there to make a "between the Earth & the Heavens" metaphor); heavy fire, somewhat similar to a tri-pronged crown or W that flutters like it's in the wind

VOLCANO: #C2AC1D moderate gold, acidification (pH cycling), ♋/☀/ϟ, ☈ (the symbol for thunderstorms which I find appropriate, b/c volcanoes can actually spawn these); smokey & partially see thru w/ green halo edging, fuzzy-looking around the edges, tho for a better visual of what I mean, look up fire opals

CURRENT: #85B357 moderate chartreuse, magnetism, ☀/ϟ/☂, ��� (actually symbolizes comets, but it's theorized comets brought water to Earth anyway); clumps together, lengths loop each other to form a field, look at your hand in the process of turning into a fist, it’s like that

WATERFALL: #306D78 arctic blue, binding, ϟ/☂/♒, ♆ (fuck yeah, the symbol for Neptune sure, but rivers were his children &/or domain as all rivers lead to the ocean); elastic & flexible with no purely set expression beyond naturally long reach (the longest Flame overall)

MOON: #9999CC deep periwinkle, reflection, ☂/♒/☁, ☾ (obvious); moves like a shadow where there’s three or more overlapping areas w/ a natural wave pattern, if you’ve ever seen the sun during a heatwave it’s like where it wobbles due to the thermal air currents so the sun itself doesn’t look like a full disc

TIDE: #CFA7C3 light fuchsia, expansion, ♒/☁/♋, ♎ (the symbol for Libra & the alchemical symbol for the subliminal; also looks like the moon rising from the sea); light, aggressively more magenta when hyper-layered, leaves afterimages like when staring into a bright light, strangely behaves like a less intense Sun Flame where it’s an overall but softer & rounder glow rather than jetting out

Dying Will Flames of the Earth/Soil: NAME: hex code, attribute, symbol (reason if needed); appearance

SWAMP: #FFB482 tangelo, fermentation (living things), 28% (30) ♋/☀ each, ☣ (biohazard was a perfect fit); almost flat but highly agitated w/ irregular flares & flickers, highest temp behind Earth in this set, technically shortest Flame at half a finger height (knuckle to first joint)

EARTH: #BD3900 vermillion, gravity, 14% (15) all, ☷ (trigram for earth); dense & exceptionally rounded fire, appearing like a split V flame that doesn’t move about as much as an actual fire, more pulled together

FOREST: #A6DE5D electric lime, growth, 23% (25) ☀/ϟ each, ♣ (club suit b/c it looks like a little tree); thin, finely branched & erratic fire, with unpredictable sparks

MOUNTAIN: #62BD8E spring green, compression, 28% (30) ϟ/☂ each, ▲ (it's a triangle, but it doubles as a mountain symbol on maps); almost opaque, w/ a fat bottom and narrow top (shaped like a deflated balloon if such a thing floated in your palm) & slow sinuous motion (the widest Flame at the base at around twice the width of the palm holding it, picture lava lamp wax)

DESERT: #1C6BFF cobalt, emergence (big patterns that appear b/c of small things, ex. ripples in sand from wind movement pushing grains around, or the uniqueness of snowflakes) (also influenced by InsaneScriptist's One Piece/KHR xover fic Xanxus' Adventures in Parenthood Piracy where Desert flames are many illusions stacked onto each other), 32% (35) ☂/♒ each, ✿ (black florette b/c I can't really see the white one, & desert flowers are very pretty); perfectly transparent but for a tint, warps the coloring immediately around it into the blue spectrum, a place where it’s just inexplicably blue above where it’s being held, like staring into a mirror reflecting itself greener and greener, but if made visible to others it might give an appearance of sand because it’s also not a very “even” or “smooth” Flame

GLACIER: #C68CFF light violet, fortification taking the form of crystals as it’s just that intense, 37% (40) ♒/☁ each, ♦ (diamond suit b/c that's a basic crystal shape, also to not leave Forest as a card by itself); upside down kite shape w/ barbed &  jagged edges like frost, not see through like you almost expect tho it’s the whitest one in general w/ bright vivid color at the edge

GEYSER: #99007D red plum, extension, 32% (35) ☁/♋ each, ♨ (hot springs are close enough to geysers for me to the connection); like heated water complete w/ dense steaming, and the leading edge even redder

Have a handy little mnemonic pic to remember how to get what.

And just who can forget Night Flames either? I headcanon that Night was one of the 3 human Flames before the Earthlings like Kawahira were forced to pass the other 3 sets onto humans to sustain life; Snow, Void, & Night were all buried under and/or split between the newer sets, which is why no one ever pulls them forth until Bermuda has his Flames torn out by his Pacifier being taken by Checkerface.

SNOW: silvery-white, absorption (base reason for why humans can become all sorts of creatures, but never back), prevalent ☀ &/or ☂ &/or ☁, ☊ (ascending node, alchemical symbol for sublimation). Appearance: aerogel if it was fire shaped, glowing around the edges like a halo, pale silver-ish, a defined or captured mist spray.

VOID: (perfect) gray, preservation, ☰ &/or ☵ &/or ☷, ⊕ (alchemical symbol for verdigris, symbol for Earth the planet). This was basically the first version of Skies, Oceans, & Earths for humans. Appearance: a blooming iridescence, like summoning a faint rainbow upon a slick surface but in petaled flower silhouette (inherent control of it’s user imparts the number of petals).

NIGHT: black*, perpetuity (grim determination to do this ONE thing & damn the consequences, to carry on), prevalent ♋ &/or ϟ &/or ♒, ☋ (descending node, alchemical symbol for purification). Appearance: invisible unless moving, black & heavy looking when it does almost like a smear or smudge, with a type of simmering heat to it, an absence of light (resulting in a clear pacifier). *You know the video game thing/unresolvable YouTube video error where it’s supposed to be dark but it’s actually just a dark grey that feels creepy to look at too long? That color.

(I got a lot, seriously a bunch of other shit attributed to each Flame too, but this thing is already long enough. If I get interest, I’ll just make another post).

This has Earth-set Flames absurdly specialist but still very possible by accident, while leaving the Ocean-set harder to achieve any other way but naturally feeling the resolve for each separate component Flame. It also makes Oceans & Earths fundamentally Skies, just denser or even-keeled if you can get that. (compare phases of matter as gas [always chaotic], liquid [clumping together but still fairly energetic], and solid [at least mostly rigid in state]).

You also don’t need to be part of the same set to be considered an element, either... folding down anyway. A fully realized Earth could only truly bond w/ only Earth-set Flames, an Ocean could bond w/ Ocean-set Flames, but a Sky could bond w/ anyone by latching onto just one Flame, disregarding if it’s part of a composite Flame. Earth and/or Ocean Flames might identify more as a Sky than their ‘proper’ label as a matter of self-preservation as their elements are so rare, so would feel more at home pulling in Sky elements rather than Ocean or Earth elements. (not that it’d stop them if given the choice).

This all neatly dovetails into headcanon Flames for Class 1A for BNHA, arranged by set then seat.

From the Sky-set, you got:

Asui Tsuyu: ♋: 6=6%; ☀: 37=34%; ϟ: 11=10%; ☂: 37=34%; ♒: 6=6%; ☁: 11=10%; (☀, ☂). You can’t tell me she talks with that huge tongue without having to Actively shoot it, right? Rain because she’s just so naturally calm.

Mashirao Ojiro (6): ♋: 6=6%; ☀: 9=8%; ϟ: 9=8%; ☂: 6=6%; ♒: 6=6%; ☁: 72=66%; (☁). Because he seems kinda distant to me like most of KHR Clouds seem to be in theory, idk why. I do think he’s cool tho.

Kaminari Denki: ♋: 6=6%; ☀: 36=33%; ϟ: 24=22%; ☂: 6=6%; ♒: 6=6%; ☁: 30=28%; (☀, ϟ, ☁). Sun b/c his lightning is actually yellow so I theorize he’s actually Propagating his natural Activated bioelectricity via Cloud, but there’s enough Lightning to leave him intact doing so and lend his bioelectricity it’s more elongated shape. A further headcanon is that his family’s lightning quirks all effectively have different colors.

Kirishima Eijirou: ♋: 6=6%; ☀: 13=12%; ϟ: 48=44%; ☂: 17=16%; ♒: 8=7%; ☁: 16=15%; (ϟ). That’s some classic Lightning right there.

Jiro Kyouka: ♋: 9=8%; ☀: 18=17%; ϟ: 18=17%; ☂: 14=13%; ♒: 9=8%; ☁: 40=37%; (☁). To make the sound of her heartbeat exponentially louder like a boss. Also introduces sensitivity problems.

Tokoyami Fumikage: ♋: 22=20%; ☀: 6=6%; ϟ: 6=6%; ☂: 26=24%; ♒: 40=37%; ☁: 8=7%; (♋, ☂, ♒). Mist to materialize Dark Shadow, Rain to be dense enough to interact w/ which when paired w/ Storm fucks w/ him when Dark Shadow gets too powerful (ie overwhelming him & largely destructive).

fuck Mineta, let’s replace him

I can’t believe I have shamed myself into including him

Mineta Minoru: ♋: 6=6%; ☀: 30=28%; ϟ: 7=6%; ☂: 6=6%; ♒: 26=24%; ☁: 33=30%; (☀, ♒, ☁). While he can inherently multiply what’s essentially wads of his hair, Mist is what imparts it’s special properties (otherwise he’d stick to his pillows & his clothes would catch on when he gets dressed), & Sun lets him naturally produce more. This is where overuse comes into play; too much Sun Flame in too short a time frame splits the skin, though thankfully the bloodflow washes out anything that might’ve evolved into cancer cells before it begins healing. I figure if he trains more & CAREFULLY, he might start using Sun to more enhance Cloud allowing him more stamina w/ his quirk.

From the Ocean-set, you get:

Ashido Mina: ♋: 30=28%; ☀: 20=19%; ϟ: 25=23%; ☂: 10=9%; ♒: 15=14%; ☁: 8=7%; (♋, ☀, ϟ) / (☈): she adjusts pH to get what she wants. It’s fair chance she was born with near-Sky values.

Iida Tenya: ♋: 19=18%; ☀: 21=19%; ϟ: 19=18%; ☂: 7=6%; ♒: 22=20%; ☁: 20=19%; (♋, ☀, ϟ, ♒, ☁) / (♓, ♎w). Combustion engine, baby! He’s exploding things to go faster. His family’s been cultivating this particular quirk so long his line is close to producing Skies!

Uraraka Ochako: ♋: 6=6%; ☀: 22=20%; ϟ: 23=21%; ☂: 24=22%; ♒: 19=18%; ☁: 14=13%; (☀, ϟ, ☂, ♒) / (☄, ♆w, ☾). Manipulating magnetism to cancel out a lot of the gravity by making it attracted to itself & only itself so repelling everything not itself, & reflection to drop them back into gravity by touching her own fingertips. Her Cloud attribute isn’t actually able to manifest outside of her body b/c it lacks outward-manifesting strength; it makes up for this in being able to apply Moon w/ extra depth & precision. The depth part is what makes her nauseous. She’s actually got a hidden attribute in Waterfall/binding! She might be able to functionally (seek a) target where she drops stuff later on if she discovers it.

Mezou Shouji: ♋: 22=20%; ☀: 12=11%; ϟ: 6=6%; ☂: 6=6%; ♒: 28=26%; ☁: 34=31%; (♋, ♒, ☁) / (♎). Expansion materializes new body parts with the help of Mist, Cloud to shorthand remember bodyparts he’s already got, & Storm to reabsorb them when they’re no longer needed.

Hagakure Tooru: ♋: 6=6%; ☀: 6=6%; ϟ: 6=6%; ☂: 36=33%; ♒: 30=28%; ☁: 24=22%; (☂, ♒, ☁) / (☾). She’s just straight up reflecting most if not all light that hits her body, which is why you can see her clothing but not her. HC she’s got excellent night vision; you might see a bit of eyeshine even!

Hmmm... for funsies, how about:

Shinsou Hitoshi: ♋: 6=6%; ☀: 6=6%; ϟ: 36=33%; ☂: 30=28%; ♒: 24=22%; ☁: 6=6%; (ϟ, ☂, ♒) / (♆). He takes control by binding his will on top of yours, like puppet strings. He reroutes your actions to his command w/ a combination of redirecting your natural electrical signals in your brain (which is why getting jarred will return your action to you) & Mist enabling him to do it in ways that won’t get detected until he does it. He’d be unstoppable if he ever worked out how to do it without the invitation; though as it’s partly psychological he might stop himself from ever overcoming that limitation.

And lastly from the Earth-set, you have:

Aoyama Yuuga: ♋: 30=28%; ☀: 29=27%; ϟ: 28=26%; ☂: 6=6%; ♒: 8=7%; ☁: 7=6%; (♋, ☀, ϟ) / (☈) / (☣). He’s fermenting the bacteria in his stomach by changing the acidity of his stomach acids whenever he shoots his laser. Boy’s gotta eat if he wants it to recharge.

Kouda Kouji: ♋: 6=6%; ☀: 37=34%; ϟ: 37=34%; ☂: 11=10%; ♒: 11=10%; ☁: 6=6%; (☀, ϟ) / x / (♣). He can communicate w/ living things b/c he’s basically making them recognize him as a friend (not that he doesn’t make friends with them anyway, tho).

Satou Rikidou: ♋: 6=6%; ☀: 22=20%; ϟ: 32=30%; ☂: 30=28%; ♒: 11=10%; ☁: 7=6%; (☀, ϟ, ☂) / ☄w / (▲). He compresses sugar to allow his body to process it quicker without it having to be digested first.

Sero Hanta: ♋: 35=32%; ☀: 6=6%; ϟ: 6=6%; ☂: 7=6%; ♒: 6=6%; ☁: 48=44%; (♋, ☁) / x / (♨). He produces something sticky then extends it very far.

Yaoyorozu Momo: ♋: 6=6%; ☀: 7=6%; ϟ: 6=6%; ☂: 35=32%; ♒: 35=32%; ☁: 19=18%; (☂, ♒, ☁) / ☾w / (✿). This is obvious, but I will say she gives whatever she makes true form because she’s using both knowledge to give it form & real energy derived from her body to give it material, which is why nothing dissolves away once she turns away from it.

You might have noticed a few missing. Here’s Todoroki w/ some calculations for his family members! Yeah!

Enji Todoroki/Endeavor: ♋: 49=45%; ☀: 6=6%; ϟ: 6=6%; ☂: 25=23%; ♒: 9=8%; ☁: 13=12%; (♋, ☂). Storm because fire (named Hellfire because it curls strangely & the fact it could burn everything), Rain for upping temperature by effecting density (meaning a thinner stream of fire).

Touya/Dabi: ♋: 37=34%; ☀: 6=6%; ϟ: 6=6%; ☂: 17=16%; ♒: 9=8%; ☁: 33=30%; (♋, ☁), Storm has the lowest energy & temperature imo, and Cloud’s b/c he can make a LOT of fire; I HC it’s more than Dumpster Fire could manage (that guy’s more of a precision over power kinda guy Flame wise, even if still pretty powerful). This Todoroki bro is just that good with his quirk, to produce blue fire by pure willpower.

Fuyumi: ♋: 13=12%; ☀: 6=6%; ϟ: 7=6%; ☂: 34=31%; ♒: 29=27%; ☁: 19=18%; (☂, ♒, ☁) / ♎w, ☾w. She’s totally a Rain, you can fight me on this. Her quirk’s gotta be something Asshole would consider useless for Hero work, so I’ll venture it might be Chill: temperature manipulation with a leaning towards cooler temps. If she ever became truly aware of the possibilities she could conjure, she’d obliterate him. Have fun sparking fire when everything refuses to heat up, bitch, lmao.

Natsuo: ♋: 8=7%; ☀: 6=6%; ϟ: 13=12%; ☂: 16=15%; ♒: 49=45%; ☁: 16=15%; (♒). Mostly so every single Todoroki has their own major element, though it’s still an entirely possible outcome from his parents. I don’t think he’s publicly quirkless because if that was a possibility his father would’ve gotten a new wife/brood mare b/c he’s THAT asshole. However, his Mist is strong enough that even if he was, he could’ve become an Active Flame user at a young age, and Mist’s pale blue color and gaseous form (if seen) might’ve made him seem like another temperature manipulator, thus also useless for his father’s ambitions. If he’s the type, he might be using it as a more physical support for himself, such as running longer or lifting more without injury than should be possible for someone who doesn’t exercise, that kind of thing.

Shouto: ♋: 6=6%; ☀: 6=6%; ϟ: 6=6%; ☂: 6=6%; ♒: 42=38%; ☁: 42=38%; (♒, ☁) / x / (♦). He’s the ultimate ice maker, & the fire side is just genetics making a general fire. If he ever became able to use Flames instead of fire, the fire would instead be a violet color rather than the yellowish one that it is now. Mist & Cloud are higher than his mother’s due to some very mild combination with his father’s values. It also makes his ice & consequently his fire VERY strong, considering every scrap not needed by the others is fed into his ice.

Rei: ♋: 6=6%; ☀: 6=6%; ϟ: 7=6%; ☂: 9=8%; ♒: 40=37%; ☁: 40=37%; (♒, ☁) / x / (♦). Ice, but a bit more spread out for variety. I’ve given her a common surname Yukimura, 雪村 "snow village" that alludes to her ice quirk, Flame, & the fact she seems to have had little support over the years.

Here’s Bakugou & Izuku!

Bakugou Katsuki: ♋: 30=28%; ☀: 30=28%; ϟ: 13=12%; ☂: 13=12%; ♒: 11=10%; ☁: 11=10%; ☰, (♋, ☀) / x / (☣). A first generation Sky. Fermentation applies to various bacteria that’s present in his sweat b/c they live on his skin, with Storm killing them & Sun activating whatever is left behind. He doesn’t always use Storm, which just leaves Sun sparking his palms, a holdover from his father also being a Swamp user.

Midoriya Izuku: ♋: 18=17%; ☀: 14=13%; ϟ: 26=24%; ☂: 14=13%; ♒: 14=13%; ☁: 22=20%; ☰, (ϟ, ☁) / ☵, (♓, ♎). A legacy Sky from his mother’s side (she’s an Earth as is most of the family on that half of his tree), though it’s completely chance he managed to be an Ocean b/c the values his father had lowered just the right higher Earth stats his mother had. Lightning & Cloud have high values enough to be secondaries, which actually shows up whenever he uses One for All which is naturally propagating to begin with. He’s got the proper Lightning appearing & everything. Whirlpool & Tide are an accident of numbers but also greatly appreciated by enabling better control? allocation? of One for All’s power.

Here’s everyone else who didn’t fit anything else above, like teachers & secondary characters!

Midoriya Inko: ♋: 18=17%; ☀: 15=14%; ϟ: 15=14%; ☂: 18=17%; ♒: 21=19%; ☁: 21=19%; ☰, (♒, ☁) / ☵, (♓, ♆) / ☷. She pulls things like gravity, ‘nuff said.

Hisashi Midoriya: ♋: 19=18%; ☀: 6=6%; ϟ: 31=29%; ☂: 7=6%; ♒: 22=20%; ☁: 23=21%; (♋, ϟ, ♒, ☁) / ♎w. Aways from being a Sky, but any potential offspring have a fairly good chance of being one with the right spouse/Inko. His ϟ deals with plasma, ☁ gives some projection so he doesn’t light himself on fire, ♒ a bit of fireproofing to the body parts & organs involved in fire-beathing, & ♋ some true (excuse the pun) fire power to what he can disintergrate w/ the fire produced. End result is a whitish-yellow flame between 2,200 °F (1,200 °C) & 2,400 °F (1,300 °C). I HC that he doesn’t have a very far reach with his fire-breath, about an arm length maybe unless he’s so emotional he lights some Cloud so it’s a full body length or longer. I also HC he took his wife’s name when they married, so I use Teiko (醍醐 "Good liquor, fine wine; clarified butter, ghee," w/ a pun of 大悟 "enlightenment") as his previous surname.

Aizawa Shouta: ♋: 20=19%; ☀: 7=6%; ϟ: 6=6%; ☂: 29=27%; ♒: 25=23%; ☁: 21=19%; (♋, ☂, ♒, ☁) / (☾). He’s sending a cancellation wave (the reverse reflection, no?) but the pale color of Moon is overpowered by his visible Storm which gives his eyes a visage of red & makes them dry af. He releases it in waves w/ Rain being the largest component meaning it floats his hair & gives the appearance of being underwater. Doubly powerful in that Rain, Mist, & Cloud are divisible by both points and percentage.

Camie: ♋: 7=6%; ☀: 6=6%; ϟ: 21=19%; ☂: 30=28%; ♒: 38=35%; ☁: 6=6%; (ϟ, ☂, ♒) / ♆w / (✿). I made her a Desert rather than just a regular Mist because I had another calculation, tbh. I also figure Desert would be more fitting since while dramatic she’s also fairly chill and likes a good laugh, & Mist always seemed like a “effect self” more than “effect others�� kind of utilization (not that it’s not possible or anything, obvs). Waterfall is for when she finally gets that little niggle in her technique that will allow her to greatly expand the range she currently has, as in “will hold until she lets it drop” kinda range.

Hawks: ♋: 6=6%; ☀: 6=6%; ϟ: 49=45%; ☂: 14=13%; ♒: 26=24%; ☁: 7=6%; (ϟ, ♒). His wings can do and handle some crazy shit because they are made of reinforced (ϟ) crazy shit (♒), and that’s just how he is.

Villains!

All For One: ♋: 11=10%; ☀: 19=18%; ϟ: 20=19%; ☂: 12=11%; ♒: 35=32%; ☁: 11=10%; ☰, (☀, ϟ, ♒). Mist for it being a mostly mental power for all that it effects his body, Sun to pull up the right genetics configuration FOR the quirks he’s taken, Lightning so his actual DNA is protected or lets him revert back to his own.

Shigaraki Tomura/Shimura Tenko: ♋: 71=65%; ☀: 6=6%; ϟ: 6=6%; ☂: 6=6%; ♒: 8=7%; ☁: 11=10%; (♋). Simple. Got deep reserves & relatively high quirk stamina from Nana's side thru his father.

Since it’s a common headcanon that Skies will vie for elements until they got a full arc & put themselves against other Skies in order to get the ones they want, Bakugou & Izuku were put into an instinctive conflict when Bakugou got access to his quirk. Oceans Encompass so Izuku seriously just did want to be friends for a good while for all he wasn’t Active, but Bakugou doesn’t or didn’t get that because he saw Izuku as a potential or possibly actual disruption to his own Harmony.

And since to have Flames the Earthlings need to have existed, I’m proposing that the Trinisette was disrupted by whatever, such as a mission for potential Arcobaleno resulting in all of them dying with/without ever bonding to the Pacifiers or Kawahira dying either before Bermuda could come into being/Bermuda got a lucky shot in before abruptly staying dead from backlash, & quirks are what appeared from Flames spiraling out of control. Flame distribution is fairly unique even among close family members, resulting in equally unique is similar quirks.

BNHA-verse has gotta prepare for a big storm, is what I’m saying.

+edit: Maybe All for One was one of the first Quirked people to be born to that first disruption wave & discovered he could take Quirks, went out of his way to get powerful ‘Quirks’ first (or what he thought of as Quirks/super powers, but might have been Flame abilities specialized or not), resulting in a shortage of any potential emergency Arcobaleno if Kawahira didn’t die off suddenly.

[sexywmatsui48]

Acceptance | Chapter 6

Previously:  PROLOGUE - CHAPTER 1 - CHAPTER 2 - CHAPTER 3 - CHAPTER 4 - CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

It had already been a week since Jurina had last met Gekikara and, when she stepped in The Blue Moon that Saturday evening, felt terribly torn on the best way to address what had transpired between them. The stripper hadn’t been shy to invite her out for a drink and, after leaving the Furukawa Lounge Bar, even bluntly made her advances out in the open, the heated kiss they had shared in that alley a memory impossible to erase.

Since her arrival at the club, Gekikara had been swamped with work and, they hardly had the opportunity to exchange a few words, that she had been forced to already leave her table, her presence being requested by a young and eager boy for a private lap dance upstairs. Tonight, Jurina could sense something was wrong with her and she was not in a right state of mind when the familiar view of the older girl flirting with others sparked an unusual flame of jealousy in her.  

Gekikara’s current success shouldn’t have come as a surprise. As soon as Jurina had fell under the charm of her natural beauty and spellbinding performance, she had predicted the new dancer would refine her technique in no time, and would attract a solid basis of regular clients as she would gain more experience. However, never until today had she felt such a negative emotion emerging inside her.

In the past, she often felt a tinge of disappointment when, as they were having a pleasurable conversation, Gekikara would all of a sudden have to leave her side to join another client. Despite it, she certainly never held it against her or felt abnormally envious of others, grasping that she was merely performing her duties. Not only were other customers in their perfect right to ask for her favors, she also needed to make a living. Already, Jurina was grateful the older girl was generous enough to accept spending time in her company, when she barely earned any money with her.

So why wasn’t she thinking rationally tonight?

In reality, it was still hard for her to wrap her head around the possibility that Gekikara perceived her as more than a random customer, and that moment of intimacy between them truly held some significance. The dancer had affirmed without detour her interest in her, nevertheless a part of her couldn’t help doubting the sincerity of her words. What if it was solely an impulsive gesture, done on the spur of the moment?

Gekikara seemed in full possession of her faculties when she had pushed her against the wall and brought their lips together, but this unbelievable evening made little sense to her. The invitation. The flirtatious behavior. The unforeseen confession. The passionate kiss. If Jurina had had more alcohol in her system, she would have convinced herself she had imagined the whole thing.

Jurina let out a heavy, despondent sigh. She had absolutely no idea what to expect when she entered The Blue Moon two hours ago, but the evening had taken an unpredictable and unpleasant turn. For the third time, she waved to the female waitress, pointing at her empty bottle of beer once she had successfully gotten her attention. “Another one, please,” she asked when the girl approached.

“Jurina, don’t you think…”

The young Anna had always been very sweet to her, but if there’s anything she wasn’t, it was subtle when it came to expressing her emotions. Judging by her troubled look and reluctance to take her order, it wasn’t hard to guess she was most likely not approving her decision of ordering a third bottle of beer. Another day, she may have felt touched by the waitress’ thoughtful attention but tonight, she frankly couldn’t care any less.

She urgently needed to find a way to quiet down that annoying and unhealthy feeling that arose each time she observed Gekikara interacting ever so casually with potential prospects, and alcohol appeared the most promising solution right now.

“Another Kirin,” Jurina repeated, this time with more insistence.

Jurina could almost see the gears turning within the waitress’ head as she stared at her for a few, pregnant seconds, probably asking herself if it was wise or not to accept, and if she shouldn’t instead try and take her out of it. Visibly, her determination conveyed the appropriate message as the waitress nodded silently, a small, awkward smile plastering her features when she walked away.

Instinctively, Jurina’s eyes fell back on Gekikara, watching her as she was occupied with a customer a few tables away. It was one of her regulars – Jurina recognized easily the salary man chatting with her – and she was aware the stripper had nothing to fear from the inoffensive short, dark-haired middle-aged man. Despite it, it didn’t prevent her from feeling awfully insecure at the scene she was witnessing, discomfort growing inside her at each smile they shared, and every touch initiated by the dancer.

In a few minutes, there was no doubt they were going to head upstairs. The man’s positive reactions to Gekikara’s powerful charm were a clear indication that her seductive tricks were working wonderfully on him. When the older girl leaned to whisper something in his ear, Jurina couldn’t take it anymore and looked away, grabbing firmly the new bottle of Kirin in front of her.

As she brought it to her lips and took a few, long sips, she gradually came to the realization that the beverage wasn’t having the desired effect. It was now her third beer, and she wasn’t feeling any better than when she had first entered the club. Worse, she now dreaded the alcohol could have had the opposite effect, and been adding fuel to that inappropriate feeling of enviousness.

Jurina lowered slowly her bottle on the table. It’s all my fault. I should never have let her kiss me, Jurina admonished herself. I should have pushed her away, and never kissed her back. What was I… What on earth was I thinking?

Now, Jurina was certain of it: she should never have allowed the situation to escalate and get out of control.

This relationship – or whatever this strange thing going between them was called – had no future. Not only did they belong to two complete opposite worlds, she feared the stripper might have a biased image of her. The one of a studious girl working hard during the week to obtain her diploma in Architecture and who, on the week-end, needed desperately to loosen up and relieve all the accumulated tension and stress.

Of course, none of it was untrue, but it failed to represent properly who she was at her deepest core. Until now, she hadn’t given the dancer any chances of discovering the other hidden aspects of her personality. The strong insecurity inhabiting her when it came to her physical difference. The fear of rejection that refused to leave her as the years went by. But also, the sexual needs she had kept unfulfilled for so many years, before her providential encounter with Akane.

Her fascination for the new stripper couldn’t be ignored and concealing her yearning for her proved to be a challenging task as the months went by, but she was adamant on preserving her from the dreadful truth. Up ‘til that day, she still couldn’t comprehend fully why Akane had embraced her difference, but she didn’t fool herself into believing she represented the norm. It was a merciless society; mentalities didn’t change overnight, and people who didn’t fit it in the mold were cast aside without an ounce of regret.

I need to leave, Jurina rose from the table and put her vest on, concluding by the tardiness and Gekikara’s unfortunate unavailability that she would never manage to obtain tonight that desired conversation with her. Stealing one last, hopeful glance in the direction of the dark-haired stripper, she noted in discouragement that she was indeed still engrossed in her conversation, her entire attention drawn to her client.

Yes, it had been a tremendously frustrating evening.

Tossing a few bills on the table, she didn’t look back and made her way towards the exit, now feeling more than eager to leave the place. She had almost arrived at the front door that she felt someone catching her arm without warning, prompting her to turn around. When she discovered the identity of the person standing in front of her, her eyes widened in stupefaction.

“W-Wait…” Gekikara’s fingers circled her arm tightly. “You’re already leaving?”

Caught off guard by her unexpected apparition, Jurina took a brief look over the stripper’s shoulder, noting from afar that her previous client was sitting at the table, and even gazing at them in mild curiosity. What had happened? A few minutes ago, she was still occupied with him. Could she possibly have left his side abruptly after noticing her leaving the club?

“Yes…” Jurina confirmed nervously, a little unsure how to justify her departure. Evidently, it was out of the question to admit the truth so she decided to opt for a lie, one she hoped convincing enough. “It’s already late, and I’m feeling a bit tired.”  

A mixture of guilt and unease spread across the stripper’s face. “I’m sorry… I really wanted to come and see you, but I haven’t had a minute for myself.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jurina put on a brave face, and tried to sound reassuring. “You’re getting more popular. It’s a good thing, no?”

“Are you… alright?” Jurina understood she had failed reaching her objective when the stripper shot her a small, concerned look.

“Of course,” Jurina forced a smile. “Come on,” she nodded her head in the direction of the awaiting customer. “You shouldn’t make him wait any longer.”

“Don’t you want to stay a bit more?” Gekikara offered tentatively, not even batting an eyelash at the mention of her other client. “I’m sure I’ll have more free time later.”

“No, you won’t…” Jurina gave her a resigned look. The stripper’s optimism was admirable, but she couldn’t share her faith on the matter, not when she had followed the whole evening an endless succession of clients eagerly requesting her presence.

Taking a step back, Jurina didn’t have the opportunity of going very far as the stripper refused to release her hold on her. “I really wanted to spend some time with you tonight…” Gekikara assured. “What if we went out for a drink after my shift?” she made a thoughtful pause. “I need to check, but I think I finish at-”

“No,” Jurina interrupted her without further delay. Last week, it had been a stupid mistake to accept the stripper’s proposal, and she was not ready to repeat it. Given her interlocutor’s baffled look, she feared her prompt refusal might have sounded slightly harsh. Quickly, she corrected herself. “Thank you, but…” Her tone softened. “I really want to go home.”

“Alright…” Gekikara relented in defeat. “I’ll see you next week-end, right?”

Jurina didn’t answer, embarrassed by the glimmer of hope flickering in her eyes. Another time, she wouldn’t have hesitated to retort it was an absurd question, as she had always been impeccably constant in her visits to the club those last two months but after tonight’s events, she didn’t have any more certitude.

“I don’t know yet,” she admitted. “I might be… busy.”

Gekikara’s blatant disappointment taught her she was not giving her the answer she hoped for, but she couldn’t bring herself to give her false hopes, especially when she was currently so torn about her next course of action. Feeling like it was now her cue to leave, Jurina gave her one last smile before turning on her heels, repeating to herself to keep walking and not look back, fearing she might change her mind if she risked another glance in Gekikara’s direction.

   When Jurina reached her apartment a little while later, she was cautious not to make too much noise when she stepped inside, not wishing to take the risk of accidentally waking up her roommate in the process. Closing gingerly the front door behind her and switching the light on, a frown fell upon her face when she noted Mayu’s bedroom door wide opened, and no signs of its occupant. That’s when it hit her. Earlier on, her best friend had indeed warned her she would not be sleeping here tonight, but spending the evening at Yuki’s, her girlfriend’s place.

Finally figuring out the reason behind her best friend’s absence, Jurina felt considerably more at ease. For some weird reason, it had completely slipped her mind.

Removing her shoes and vest in the entrance, it occurred to her she wouldn’t for once have minded some company tonight, and couldn’t help despite herself lamenting the quietness of the apartment. All the way here, she hadn’t stopped debating with herself whether she should give in to Gekikara’s last tempting request and go back to The Blue Moon the following week, but her thoughts were a jumble mess in a head, soon concluding she was not in the best state of mind right now to make such a crucial decision.

Entering her own bedroom on the left, the red letters flashing on her alarm clock reminded her of the late time, and she knew she should try and put her concerns aside for now to find some sleep. Quickly, she discovered it was easier said than done. After she had changed clothes and put herself to bed, seconds soon transformed into minutes, but maintaining her eyes close proved an impossible task.

Gekikara’s persistent image was keeping her wide awake.

A frustrated growl escaped her lips and, after switching the light on, took a seat on the side of the bed, burying her face in her hands as a feeling of powerlessness spread through her chest. Unconsciously, her thoughts lead her to an entirely different person, all of a sudden wishing strongly Akane hadn’t left the capital and moved to Osaka.

If there was one person who had always managed to relax her when she needed it the most, it was definitely Akane. When she was too stressed about her strenuous daily life as a student. When she was mentally exhausted, and wanted to get rid of the nagging voices inside her head taking some malicious delight in reminding her of her abnormality. Or, on a more physical aspect, when she had too much pent-up sexual tension asking to be released.

Akane was the only person she could reach out to.  

On the week-end, and even during weekdays.

At the strip club, or inside her apartment.

In a matter of minutes, all her worries would disappear magically, as if they had never existed in the first place. Away from prying eyes and in the safe vicinity of a bedroom, Akane accomplished the unconceivable underneath the bedsheets. A miracle no other human being had ever managed to perform before her.

She made her feel accepted.

“But she’s not here anymore,” Jurina stammered, her small voice sounding weakly in the partial darkness of her room as she confessed her disarray. “And she’s probably… never coming back.”

Her absence was leaving her prey to the worst of her doubts and insecurities.

Her gaze wandered in the room helplessly, absentmindedly spotting a disorganized pile of documents and books spread carelessly across the floor. Taking a deep breath, she stood on her feet and moved towards the embarrassing mess, hoping doing a little clean up may help her clear her head and find some sleep. Kneeling down on the blue carpet, she gathered her books and courses on Construction Law, decided to find some empty place for them in her office.  

Lowering next the heavy load on her desk, she tidied it for a little while conscientiously, removing old courses and books she had no more use. When a paper sheet slipped accidently between the piece of furniture and the wall, she retrieved it without further ado, her attention caught by a thin rectangular card trapped in the narrowed space. Her curiosity piqued, she extended her arm, catching the white card between her fingers. When she finally took a peek at it, her eyes widened as she recognized instantly the familiar inscription on it.    

“What… What is it still doing here?” She blinked in incredulity, persuaded to have thrown it away a long time ago.

That professional card made everything rush back with vivid clarity, and she stared at it for a long period of time, until casting a glance towards the direction of the bin. When her better judgment was urging her to get rid of it without second thoughts, a small voice inside her head, growing louder and louder as the seconds went by, was wondering if it couldn’t be the answer to her problems. What if it was precisely what she needed tonight?

Taking a seat back on the bed, her eyes flickered undecidedly between the rectangular card in her hand and the white Smartphone resting on the bedside table, before making up her mind and seizing the device. To be honest, she would deem herself lucky if the number was still in function after so much time but she didn’t dither, typing the familiar phone number on the screen.

Pressing the phone against her ear, she waited in anticipation while it rang a few times, a smooth and feminine voice soon picking up.

“Nana speaking?”

  Nana looked just as she remembered her.

Feminine, elegant, mature; but most of all, very easy on the eyes. The essential prerequisites that had led her to pick that girl in particular when she had stumbled upon her picture. Jurina followed her every move expectantly as she stepped inside her apartment and took a curious look around, wondering what were the odds that woman would ever resurface in her life again. Back then, when Nana had dropped casually her professional card on the bedside table, Jurina had the fervent intention of keeping that night a one-time thing.

And yet here she was again, standing in her living room with an air of confidence, after two long years without seeing each other. From the outside, the situation could appear oddly similar: she had, after all, also called tonight the older girl with a precise goal in mind, but it was a false misconception. Nana may hadn’t change an iota, not the same could be said about herself. She wasn’t anymore the skittish and inexperienced twenty years old girl terrified of losing her virginity to a perfect stranger.  

“Hello, Jurina. It’s been a while,” Nana removed her vest and laid it on the armrest of the couch, setting her eyes on her host in keen interest. “I never thought I would ever receive a call from you again. It was a very nice surprise.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Jurina saw no good reason for hiding the truth. “I wasn’t even sure the phone number still worked, or that you kept provided those kinds of services.”

Nana nodded in understanding. “In fact, it’s not really the case anymore. For a while, I was away from Tokyo for personal reasons and when I recently came back, decided to find a different job. I actually applied for a new one a few days ago, and I’m hoping the outcome will be positive.”

“I don’t understand,” Jurina admitted her confusion. “Then why did you accept to come tonight?”

“I decided to keep offering my services to a restricted and selected number of my best customers,” Jurina didn’t miss the unmistakable seductive glint in her eyes, “or to those that I had left a good impression on me...”

Jurina didn’t oppose any resistance when she applied some pressure on her chest and pushed her down on the sofa, straddling her lap with bold assurance. “So, tell me…” Slender fingers slowly traveled down her tee-shirt, pausing just above the waistband of her shorts. “What did you have in mind for tonight?”

For what felt like a breathless eternity, Jurina studied the dazzling woman sitting on top of her, her eyes aglow with longing as she stared at those enticing lips. “It depends,” she wrapped her arms around her back, bringing them closer, and didn’t wait anymore to connect her lips to hers. “How long do you have?”

Nana’s mouth tugged into a knowing smile. “I’m yours as long as you need,” she murmured invitingly when they broke the lingering, sensual kiss. “Ten minutes. An hour. Or… all night.”

A rush of anticipation spread through Jurina’s chest at the tempting prospect, humming in pleasure when Nana slipped a hand underneath her tee-shirt, and her fingers explored every inch of skin at disposal. Little by little, her eyes clouded with desire as dexterous and expert fingers massaged her breasts, the stimulation enhancing effectively her arousal. For a while, she let her willingly proceed with her ministrations, before interrupting her and catching her hand.

As she guided her fingers out of her tee-shirt and down her waist, she made sure to communicate her clearly that another part of her body was begging for her attention. A message visibly properly conveyed, an impish smile adorning Nana’s face as she climbed off her lap and slid her body downwards, dropping on her knees. Her eyes tore away from Jurina’s lustful gaze and stared at her crotch, where the source of her sexual frustrations rested.

Nana cupped it gently and took a grasp of the member through her shorts, her eyes widening slightly when she noted how hard it had already gotten. Not bothering pulling the material off, she slipped her fingers inside the shorts and pulled out Jurina’s sex, her eyes following the member’s extent from base to head appreciatively. Stealing a glance towards its owner, she distinguished the unmistakable craving in her eyes, and began slowly stroking her member with measured, gentle motions.

Jurina let out a gasp and closed her eyes shut, taking in the feeling of the fingers running up and down her length, the sensation nearly as painful as it was pleasurable. After a few moments of pleasuring Jurina that way, Nana lowered her head and leaned in, enveloping gingerly her erect member with the warmth of her mouth. In the vain hope of muffling the noises trying to erupt from her throat, Jurina bit hard on her lower lip, but the constant slow-pace sucking on her member kept eliciting moan after moan.

While Nana worked her talents on the thick firmness, Jurina’s hands found their way into her hair, her fingers entangling into her long dark locks as she gently began pushing down every now and then. A ball of fire started to form at the pit of Jurina’s stomach and she felt as though she was about to explode, all her pent-up sexual tension threatening to spill at any moment. As if Nana could sense she was getting dangerously close, she set a faster pace with each dip, using her other hand to hold the throbbing member in place.

Very slowly at first, but gradually increasing in its intensity, a shudder rippled through Jurina when she felt the orgasm ripping through her entire form. Eventually, she came down from her peak, still a little short of breath when she took a tentative peek at the girl who had skilfully brought her to an intense climax. After a minute or so, when she had regained a portion of her strength, Jurina lifted her off the floor, the older girl not hesitating to straddle her like before.

Jurina listened to the sound of her racing heart slowing down progressively in her chest, her hands roaming Nana’s back when the latter slipped her arms around her neck, and placed some kisses down her jawline. They silently remained in that position for a little while, exchanging a few occasional kisses, until Jurina felt Nana gripping her length without warning, her member effortlessly awakening under the daring provocation of her fingers. 

[lovehaswonangelnumbers]

New Post has been published on https://lovehaswonangelnumbers.org/uranus-in-taurus-new-moon-in-pisces-mercury-retro/

Uranus in Taurus, New Moon in Pisces, Mercury Retro

Uranus in Taurus, New Moon in Pisces, Mercury Retro

By Dana Mrkich

Today is a busy day in the skies!

Mercury went retrograde so the next few weeks are excellent for reviewing, revisiting, reorganizing, reflecting and in my case relaunching – the all new She Fire Membership Circle is being relaunched later today, watch this space and your inboxes for more info!

Mercury went retro on the very last degree of the zodiac, 29 degrees Pisces so it’s as if the communication planet is saying sort everything out before you move forward into a new communication cycle. A lot of the time we want to get onto the next thing, we ask the universe for more of this or that, but what in your life needs completing, finishing or releasing? If there are things that have been on your admin to do list forever, get them done already. Clear the clutter in your inbox and phone. Plan new systems to help you be more organised. Create mental space so that you can be free, fresh and energised once Mercury goes forward again.

Overnight we had Uranus, planet of the unexpected and unpredictable, move into very reliable and stable Taurus where he’ll be be until 2026. Where is Taurus in your chart? That’s the part of life that will get a Uraniun makeover – whatever has been the norm before will make way for something new and completely different. Uranus was in Aries from 2011-now so if you have a look at where Aries is in your chart you’ll be able to see how Uranus has been affecting you over the past 8 years.

For example, I have Aries in my 4th house of home and family. When Uranus moved into Aries in 2011 I got pregnant, Christian and I moved into a little cottage and set up our first home together as a family, I became a mum, we moved again when we needed more space, and my life has become very centred around motherhood, our home and family. Very different to the previous Uranus cycle where I wasn’t a mum yet, travelled a lot, and my focus was more on my work. When I look back at each previous Uranus cycle, it is like looking at completely different chapters of my life story, so incredible! So I’m looking forward to seeing what this next Uranus chapter holds.

When Uranus changes signs we can feel the change in the air even if we aren’t sure what we’re feeling. Uranus can bring shock events or bring opportunities that come totally out of the blue. Going into Taurus we can expect changes connected to: our money systems, sustainable farming, caretaking of the Earth, self-care, and prioritising what it is we truly value.

We also have the New Moon in Pisces today – the last new moon of the current astrological cycle before we start over with the New Moon in Aries next month. So we have an interesting energy this month with a lot of fresh new energy raring to go (Uranus) yet we also have Mercury retro and the Pisces influence asking us to take our time getting ready, no need to rush, take time to dream and plan before moving into action-focused Aries.

How was your Uranus in Aries? What house was it in? Share your story so that people who have Uranus going into that house now can have an idea of what they might expect.

Where is Taurus in your chart? That is the house Uranus is entering this cycle!

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[pussymagicuniverse]

A Journey in Winter – Walking with Ceridwen and The Cailleach

Crone energy lead me along my magical path before I knew I was walking the path in the first place.

For me, on the surface, this turning to crones seems to be in line with the idea we try to bring what we lack – but need – into our lives from outside sources. Recently I’ve realised how as a child I stayed childlike well into my teens, and even now people mistake me for someone much younger than I am. But all I ever wanted was to grow older and know things. It’s the opposite of Peter Pan and his Lost Boys, and more difficult to achieve (I am nowhere near the all-seeing hag energy I’d love to embody, but I could quite easily be a lost boy if that was my thing). But after a recent trip to Scotland, where I felt one powerful goddess join another from the minute I walked out my front door, I’m starting to believe it’s not impossible.

There are other reasons other than some spiritual anaemia to explain why the universe expressed as older, colder, and darker appeals to me. I know it’s also because my role model as a little witch was my great-grandmother, who died long before I was born, but lived on in the things her son, my nature-respecting grandfather, taught me. It’s because I spent much of my childhood in the company of another set of great-grandparents; they were not witches, but funny and sharp, they both carried the lessons of a life spent working – and at times drinking – hard and shared them with me. And I know deep down I just wanted a mentor – a bit like the endless and immortal Mrs Which, Mrs Whatsit, and Mrs Who from A Wrinkle in Time – who is all-knowing and would guide me in the way I wasn’t being guided in my everyday life. Maybe it’s even because of how much I watched The Golden Girls when I was a child – those retired ladies really knew how to live, right?

Aging, darkness, night, death, and winter have been considered negatives in many places over many historical eras. Some of those things still unsettle people, I know. But for me, the dark is what it is – the complement of light, which itself balances dark. Dark and light are neutral settings – badness can come into our lives with the sun just as easily as it can with the moon. And the dark has a different and equally useful purpose – if light is active and lends itself to movement, the dark is calm, it’s where incubation takes place (of life, or of ideas and contemplations). Aging frightens people because it takes us closer to the inevitable end of our lives. Death frightens us because it’s difficult to know, to understand; it is unpredictable. Winter encompasses and represents all of the above. But all I can see is how much knowledge and experience the years give us, how much time for contemplation and learning there has been once we reach that end.

Even so, sometimes the old-old gods also make mistakes, but the best part about that is how they tell us that’s ok, too. They have the wisdom to see sometimes it doesn’t really matter. My longest working spiritual relationship with a crone goddess is with Ceridwen, forged when I was seventeen, and still going strong. She is the Welsh sorceress famous for her Cauldron of Inspiration; accidental mother of the great bard Taliesin – because she created the potion for her own son, but the plan wasn’t as fool-proof as she’d have liked it to be. The three drops it took to give someone endless insight landed on the thumb of her serving boy, Gwion Bach, instead of being lovingly administered to her ugly son Morfran (or Afagddu). After a chase where Ceridwen and Gwion Bach shapeshifted as a series of animals, the boy ends up in the enchantress’s tummy, to transform into Taliesin. This worked out fine, of course, because the result was the Welsh bardic tradition. And Ceridwen is recognised as a goddess these days – she’s a witch’s witch, the dark moon guardian of poets, creators, and seekers, giving us space for our ideas to grow in the absence of bright overpowering light. She’s given me flashes of insight, strength to stay on the path, never letting me down when I’ve needed her most.

Very recently, after several months of another energy edging in, Ceridwen was joined in these efforts to help a little human writer find their way. I knew it was coming, and at last it fell into place. As I walked down the hill from my house to Sheffield station on a cold pre-dawn in early January, here was another crone. Depicted most often as a blue-skinned old woman, or a giantess, this goddess is rooted more firmly in the earth and the practical by way of her ties to wildlife and winter, and her rock-formation myths, dropping stones from her apron across these islands, from Scotland to Wales to England to Ireland and back to Scotland again. And if there was ever a right time to feel the Cailleach’s presence, it’s in the freezing short days and long nights of winter, when you’re about to hop on a train headed four hours north.

Another truth buried in this contemplation of sagacity (occurring, no doubt, because I’ll be 40 soon) was excavated by the Cailleach: I’ve always valued a no-nonsense approach to most problems, while knowing I’m an intuitive, emotional, airy fairy creature most of the time – the growth for me has been in combining them. The hero in my story when I’m overly stressed is someone who will tell me, hey, it’s alright, you’re upset, but come on now – get back up. Being realistic and sensible can come across as gruff, yes, but it is not the same as being unkind – in fact, it’s a great kindness. There are times when I must be this person for myself, rarer still when I’ve been that person for others (I’m more likely to be the woe-catching ear and the tear-stained shoulder), and there have been times when friends and strangers have been the ones to help me. And there are these occasions when the stern hand reaching down to me is from a more unseen place.

Edinburgh is a city of history and hills, populated by a grand mix of locals and transplants and tourists, and people like me: ‘visitors’ as my friend (an Edinburgh native) described me – someone who lives in the UK, but wandered further north to do research for one of my poetry collections. Many of the Cailleach’s Scottish myths are based in wild, far northern landscapes, but through the steep inclines and the nip in the air she made her presence known in this more lowland, metropolitan place. I had to walk everywhere I needed to go – not a problem if you don’t have a condition that affects all the joints in your legs, more of a problem if you do (spoilers: I do). My anxiety was high because I was traveling alone. There were moments when it would have been easier to give up and stay in my hotel room with a pile of books, but something wouldn’t let me even consider it.

Pure stubbornness and dedication to my work, I suppose – work I continue to pursue under Ceridwen’s watchful eye, Ceridwen who allows me to curl up in her cauldron when things get overwhelming, waiting things out and re-emerging energised. But in Edinburgh there was another force of nature saying: ‘no, she will not stop yet – she will do what she came to do’. Her blue hands at my back, a lift up – the hard-faced but well-meant instruction. I was in the Cailleach’s territory during her season, she’d called me in before I arrived and once I was there, things would be done her way – I managed to push through the anxiety; I swallowed medicine for the pain, rested well when the journey was finished. And when I left, she made sure I carried something of her with me.

Born in Southern Ohio, but settled in the UK since 1999, Kate is a writer, witch, editor and mother of five. She is the author of several poetry pamphlets, and the founding editor of four web journals and a micropress.

Her witchcraft is a blend of her great-grandmother's Appalachian ways and the Anglo-Celtic craft of the country she now calls home – though she incorporates tarot, astrology, and her ancestors, plus music, film, books, and many other things into her practice. Her spiritual life is best described as queer Christopagan with emphasis on the feminine and the natural world. She believes magic is everywhere.

Find Kate on twitter and IG - @mskateybelle - and at her website.

[nancygduarteus]

The Race to Mass-Produce Perfect Waves

In 2015, a rancher named David Howe lifted off from a California airfield on a covert mission. For weeks, a neglected water-ski park in his Central Valley farming community had been mysteriously ensconced in privacy fencing and manned by a security detail. The clandestine development raised eyebrows in town, but according to Howe, locals contracted to do work at the facility weren’t talking.

To quench his curiosity, Howe decided to sneak in an aerial view. In a helicopter normally employed in crop dusting, he and a friend rose over the lake, and saw something like a train car moving back and forth, causing a disturbance on the water’s surface. On a second pass, workers emerged from trailers below. “They looked mad,” Howe says. “We laughed at how hard they were trying to keep their secret.”

Trained as an engineer, Howe had no doubt what the train-car contraption was being used for: Whoever was behind the development was trying to generate ocean-like waves in a lake. This was an odd thing to build in a lightly populated community 100 miles inland. “We don’t have any surfers around here,” Howe says.

Later that year, the surfing legend Kelly Slater caught the surfing world unaware by posting the first video of the waves created at the facility. The pool, he said, was his “little secret spot,” a mechanism designed by his Kelly Slater Wave Co. to create “perfect waves”—the kind surfers scour the globe to find. And now, if Slater’s plan worked, West Coast surfers could soon enjoy a dependable supply in landlocked Lemoore, California.

Until that point, the physical act of surfing had just about defied monetization. Great surf spots can net up to tens of millions in visitor dollars for their host communities annually, but the main ingredient—waves—was delivered for free. Enthusiasts rarely paid admission or membership fees. Competitions generated no ticket sales; no price-gouging hotdogs or sodas. Now, Slater opened the possibility of growing fans and participants in geographically disparate markets, of controlling access and production, of generating leagues and erecting stadiums. He could turn a fickle, nature-dependent activity into a commodifiable sport.

Pro surfer Gabriel Medina at Kelly Slater’s Surf Ranch (Grant Ellis)

But as Slater grabbed headlines, something else was happening. Consortiums of engineers, scientists, and financiers were building other wave-generating technologies around the world. Slater’s company wasn’t only generating fake waves; it was spreading an infectious enthusiasm for the very idea. And there was potential gold for whoever could do it best: In 2016, the International Olympic Committee voted to include surfing in the 2020 Japan Games. First to market in Japan meant an introduction to the world.

A race was on.

Like the push toward nuclear-fusion technology or the search for dark matter, the quest for a machine that could accurately replicate oceanic waves has been long and illusive. As far back as the 1920s, European pools used pistons, paddles, and waterfalls to generate waves at public baths. For surfers, a breakthrough occurred in 1969, when Big Surf Waterpark in Tempe, Arizona, developed something like a giant toilet tank that unleashed tons of water into a shallow pool. Notable surfers crossed the Mojave to test these early man-made rollers, and locals made the park a regular hangout. “The culture was genuine, the waves were artificial,” said surfer Dave Manning in a documentary featuring the water park.

Nevertheless, surf culture was changing. By the 1970s, surfers weren’t looking for long peelers but breaks that harnessed power only great swaths of ocean deliver. The 1987 cult-classic film North Shore honed in on this distinction in its plotline. After winning an Arizona wave-pool contest, its main character, Rick Kane, journeys to Hawaii, where he finds success in big waves. In the real world, the very name Rick Kane became a catchphrase for the buffoonery of attempting replace nature with technology.

Indoor surfers at a wave pool near Tokyo in 1967 (BW / AP)

When Kelly Slater Wave Co. delivered on the long-held dream, it came as something of a moon landing for the surf community: The future was suddenly here. A controlling interest in Slater’s company was purchased by the World Surf League, the organizer of the elite world tour. This year, the Founder’s Cup, held May 5 and 6, was to be the facility’s proof that reliable machines could liberate competitive surfing from the confines of the coasts. To a certain extent, the event delivered: The dunny brown waves contested by international, mixed-gender teams that weekend mesmerized the general public. But about four minutes were required for the pool to settle between waves, creating a significant spread between scores. And Slater’s machine was in fact so consistent that it offered scant variety, and no upsets. Surfer magazine declared the competition “a yawn.”

[Read: The next big wave]

The ocean’s variability, it turned out, was both its glory and curse. Distant storms send waves in batches called “sets,” but unexpected “lulls” occur as well. Part of the thrill of surfing is in reading and anticipating those changes and being in the right place at the right time. In competition, the number and variety of waves causes scores to volley back and forth, heightening the drama and leading to unpredictable outcomes. The challenge for wave technology isn’t simply making one type of perfect wave; it’s replicating the ocean’s many moods.

On the same weekend as Slater’s Founder’s Cup, a water park called BSR Cable Park in Waco, Texas, released a video of their own wave pool. Shapely, pointbreak-style waves rose out of artificially blue water three at a time, less than a minute between sets—150 waves per hour. More videos soon followed. The waves could change shape and even evolve, allowing surfers to execute increasingly technical maneuvers.

https://cdn.embedly.com/widgets/media.html?src=https%3A%2F%2Fplayer.vimeo.com%2Fvideo%2F294811909%3Fapp_id%3D122963&dntp=1&url=https%3A%2F%2Fvimeo.com%2F294811909%2F771a0c3f71&image=https%3A%2F%2Fi.vimeocdn.com%2Fvideo%2F731802782_1280.jpg&key=e59abcd3fdf14abe95641518e479f5c0&type=text%2Fhtml&schema=vimeo

On May 18, Hawaii’s Seth Moniz landed an unprecedented trick in the pool: a frontside 540, which looks something like a backflip. It was proof that wave pools could push performance. Suddenly, Rick Kane’s storyline had been reversed: Hawaiian surfers were migrating inland.

In June, Cheyne Magnusson, the manager of BSR’s new “surf resort,” stood in a rustic operations tower. He seemed dazed by the flurry of calls he’d fielded since the debut of PerfectSwell, the brand name of the technology that generates his pool’s swells. Developed by the California-based company American Wave Machines, the design is essentially driven by fans that push water through a series of chambers hidden behind the pool’s concrete wall. Each chamber represents a “section” of a wave, and the order in which they’re fired can be manipulated to “build” different waves—more power here, less water there, and so forth.

On a tablet running the technology’s software, this series of chambers looked like notes on sheet music. “I call this my ‘iPod’,” Magnusson said. “And this is my soundtrack.” The soundtrack was a collection of waves, files really, that Magnusson had developed with feedback from visiting pros. Once they’d “recorded” an acceptable wave, or pattern of waves, he only had to push the button and the software looped it endlessly. Magnusson, a former professional surfer, could turn it on and go out for a surf himself.

On my visit, the grounds of the pool were still under construction. A backhoe dug a trench for electrical lines that would power night lighting, which would help attract more attendees: Unlike Slater’s pool, BSR Surf Resort was open to the public. (Currently, the pool is closed as the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention investigates a possible dangerous contamination.)

How many surfers could be accommodated was still being worked out at the time. In the first public session, they’d loaded the pool with 40 surfers. “It was like a mosh pit,” Magnusson said. “A fight broke out instantly.” With a more manageable number, the pool setting compelled surfers to actually communicate for priority—an act that’s usually sorted out by skill level and bullying in the wild. Not only were the waves in development, but the culture of surfing was as well.

Jackson Butler surfs in the BSR Surf Resort pool in Waco, Texas. (Shawn Butler)

Magnusson insisted that the BSR Surf Resort team was not contesting a race with Kelly Slater Wave Co. or any other pool developers. “That would imply there is only going to be one winner, and one technology, and that would suck,” Magnusson said. “If there’s going to be a race, hopefully it’s toward variety.”

Nevertheless, actions and announcements from a number of entities have suggested that a race is indeed at hand. As early as September 2017, a Spanish-based pool developer, Wavegarden, announced plans to build a pool near Tokyo in time for the 2020 Games. Following BSR’s video release, Slater invited aerial specialists to the Surf Ranch to help its team develop an “air section,” or ramp, something Waco boasted but Slater’s facility lacked. In July, a group fronted by former world champion Mark Occhilupo revealed photos of a massive pool under construction in North Queensland, Australia, with a purported capability of generating 2,400 waves per hour among eight distinct breaks.

It could all be a pipe dream. So far, the International Surfing Association has insisted that surfing’s Olympic debut will occur in the ocean, and along with the Tokyo 2020 committee, they’ve proposed a beach site 40 miles from the city. But during the window of the 2020 Games, wave conditions at Tokyo beaches are generally unimpressive. This puts surfing at risk of suffering the same fate as other failed trial sports before it, like cricket, lacrosse, and polo. Should surfing appear underwhelming, or even clownish, which it can in anemic surf, the International Surfing Association’s bid to extend surfing to 2024 in Paris, or 2028 in Los Angeles, could sink.

Many commentators have mused that a crystalline wave pool will be the obvious solution. Beyond predictable and impressive swells, these nascent pools lend themselves to arena-like management, ticket sales, and studio conditions for broadcast. “It’s got to happen in a pool,” says Surfer magazine’s photo editor, Grant Ellis. “The Olympic audience can’t watch a couple of surfers bobbing in a flat ocean.”

Rendering of a possible Olympic wave pool design (Paul Roget Design / Courtesy of Webber Wave Pools)

Over the summer, interesting developments occurred at a clip. The parent company of Kelly Slater Wave Co. won community approval to replicate their pool just outside of Tokyo. According to a Japanese news site, construction will be finished this December. Soon after, Olympic surfing’s governing body, the International Surfing Association, chose BSR’s Waco pool as the “official training center” for the U.S. surf team. The Australian surf team countered by traveling en masse to Slater’s Lemoore pool.

[Read: The improbable persistence of swimming pools built in the ocean]

A lot of work and energy was pouring into technologies that Olympic bodies had denied considering. A final decision on the site of Olympic competition won’t be formally made until July next year, which may be keeping the crowded field optimistic. But there’s no proven financial model for inland wave pools, despite the amount of capital going into their development. Should these Olympic dreams come to naught, what will happen to a possible glut of artificial waves? Will communities embrace their new coasts? Who is going to buy all of these waves?

The Waco resident Brian Filmore might have the answer. “My story is the opposite of the North Shore story,” he said. “I experienced surfing with my dad in California, but I really learned how to surf here [in the pool]. I’m a Central Texas surfer.”

BSR initially sold annual permits to surfers for the low cost of $1,000, a decision they openly regretted. Locals who’d learned to surf in the Gulf, California, and Hawaii realized the value and snapped up the passes. Over the course of the year, they could end up paying as low as a buck a wave. One surfer, a father, doubled his money. He’d rekindled skills he’d honed during a long stint in the islands, and then he pushed his son into the foamy leftovers ridden by other pass-holders.

Communities across the country already have their surfers. They’re just waiting for the waves.

from Health News And Updates https://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2018/10/surfs-up-world/572839/?utm_source=feed

[investmart007]

WASHINGTON | Trump cancels summit with Kim; North Korea still wants talks

New Post has been published on https://is.gd/fSborO

WASHINGTON | Trump cancels summit with Kim; North Korea still wants talks

WASHINGTON (AP) — President Donald Trump on Thursday abruptly canceled his summit with North Korea’s Kim Jong Un, blaming “tremendous anger and open hostility” by Pyongyang — a decision North Korea called “regrettable” while still holding out hope for “peace and stability.”

In a letter to Kim announcing his decision to back away from the June 12 summit, Trump pointed to America’s vast military might and warned the rising nuclear power against any “foolish or reckless acts.”

The letter kicked off a day of mixed messages by the president, who declared hours later, “I really believe Kim Jong Un wants to do what’s right.” After that, a senior White House official said the North lacked judgment and had reneged on its promises ahead of the summit. Trump said from the White House that a “maximum pressure campaign” of economic sanctions and diplomatic isolation would continue against North Korea — with which the U.S. is technically still at war — but he added that it was possible the summit could still take place at some point.

North Korea issued a statement Friday saying it is still “willing to give the U.S. time and opportunities” to reconsider talks “at any time, at any format.”

Vice Foreign Minister Kim Kye Gwan called Trump’s decision “unexpected” and “very regrettable,” and said the cancellation of the talks shows “how grave the status of historically deep-rooted hostile North Korea-U.S. relations is and how urgently a summit should be realized to improve ties.”

Kim insisted North Korea’s “objective and resolve to do our best for the sake of peace and stability of the Korean Peninsula and all humankind remain unchanged.”

Trump’s surprise exit capped weeks of high-stakes brinkmanship between the two unpredictable leaders over nuclear negotiating terms for their unprecedented sit-down. The U.S. announcement came not long after Kim appeared to make good on his promise to demolish his country’s nuclear test site. But it also followed escalating frustration — and newly antagonistic rhetoric — from North Korea over comments from Trump aides about U.S. expectations for the North’s “denuclearization.”

The senior U.S. official said the North violated a pledge to allow international inspectors to monitor the supposed implosion of the site Thursday. International journalists were present, but the U.S. government can’t verify the site’s destruction. The official spoke on the condition of anonymity to avoid overshadowing Trump’s comments Thursday.

Russian President Vladimir Putin, a staunch Kim ally, said the North Korean leader had in fact done “everything that he had promised in advance, even blowing up the tunnels and shafts” of his country’s nuclear testing site. Putin said of Trump’s announcement, “In Russia we took this news with regret.”

Trump, in his letter to Kim, objected specifically to a statement from a top North Korean Foreign Ministry official. That statement referred to Vice President Mike Pence as a “political dummy” for his comments on the North and said it was up to the Americans whether they would “meet us at a meeting room or encounter us at nuclear-to-nuclear showdown.”

Underscoring the high stakes, Trump said he had spoken with military leaders, as well as Japan and South Korea, and stressed that the United States was prepared for any threat.

Still, Trump’s announcement appeared to surprise South Korea, which had pushed to keep the summit on track as recently as Tuesday, when President Moon Jae-in met with Trump in the Oval Office and said the “fate and the future” of the Korean Peninsula hinged on the talks. The Blue House said Thursday that it was trying to figure out Trump’s intentions in canceling the summit.

Trump, who considers himself a master dealmaker, has confounded aides and allies at every turn of the fateful flirtation with the North.

He looked past the warnings of senior aides when he accepted Kim’s invitation to meet back in March. He unveiled the date and the time with characteristic showmanship. And after initially projecting calm in the face of North Korea’s escalating rhetoric, he made a sudden about face, though his letter also waxed poetic about the “wonderful dialogue” emerging between the two leaders.

Wrote Trump: “If you change your mind having to do with this most important summit, please do not hesitate to call me or write.”

It was unclear whether Trump’s move marked a negotiating ploy or a manifestation of mounting internal concerns over ensuring a successful outcome for the summit.

Trump was briefed Wednesday night and made the decision to exit Thursday morning after consulting with top advisers, including Secretary of State Mike Pompeo and National Security Adviser John Bolton, to whom he dictated the letter, said the senior official.

The question now is how Trump’s maneuvering will be received. His letter could make the situation worse in a society where saving face can be pivotal. Kim might well take offense at the hardnosed U.S. approach after he released American detainees and destroyed a nuclear site.

Trump’s aides had warned that merely agreeing to the summit had provided Kim with long-sought international legitimacy and, if Trump ultimately backed out, risked fostering the perception that the president was insufficiently committed to diplomatic solutions to the nuclear question.

U.S. defense and intelligence officials have repeatedly assessed the North to be on the threshold of having the capability to strike anywhere in the continental U.S. with a nuclear-tipped missile — a capacity that Trump and other U.S. officials have said they would not tolerate.

Pompeo, testifying on Capitol Hill, said North Korea had not responded to repeated requests from U.S. officials to discuss logistics for the summit. He told the Senate Foreign Relations Committee the lack of response was an additional reason for Trump’s decision.

“We got a lot of dial tones, Senator,” he told committee chairman Bob Corker.

A White House team was set to fly to Singapore this weekend to continue logistical planning for the meeting.

Pompeo said the North’s posture had changed markedly since he returned from Pyongyang earlier this month, a trip during which he met with Kim and oversaw the release of three Americans being held. Trump suggested this week that China was to blame for “a little change” in Kim’s attitude. Kim paid a secret visit to his primary ally just before Pompeo’s visit, and China is wary of any shift in the balance of power on the Korean peninsula.

Trump’s allies in Congress applauded the president, saying he was justified in pulling out of the meeting.

“North Korea has a long history of demanding concessions merely to negotiate. While past administrations of both parties have fallen for this ruse, I commend the president for seeing through Kim Jong Un’s fraud,” said Sen. Tom Cotton, R-Ark.

Critics were less impressed.

House Minority Leader Nancy Pelosi, D-Calif., said it was clear Trump “didn’t know what he was getting into and now he’s walking away” in a “very chummy, palsy-walsy letter” that’s “kind of like a valentine to Kim Jong Un.”

White House officials have privately predicted for weeks that the summit could be canceled once or twice before actually taking place. Trump has seemed to welcome chatter of a Nobel Peace Prize, but that has yielded in recent weeks to the sobering prospect of ensuring a successful outcome with the Kim.

By CATHERINE LUCEY, ZEKE MILLER and MATTHEW LEE by Associated Press – published on STL.News by St. Louis Media, LLC(U.S)

[deathhasnomeaning-blog]

Even Celestial Bodies Wither in the Face of Eternity

     Maple leaves are swept into a cyclone in miniature with each gust of wind, the distillation of violence and disorder into something that might be mistaken for beauty. You can faintly make out the pained yelps of your neighbor’s 16 year-old bichon frise as it struggles to make it down a flight of stairs. Poor thing, you think. Maybe one day that’ll be me.

     It is October 27th, and the block on which you live is in repose, save for the neighbor’s dog, which suffers in solitude. But you can hear it, so is it really alone? you ask yourself. But what do we weigh more strongly when pondering the existence of loneliness: the mere presence of others, known or unknown to the self, or the degree to which these others are perceived as playing some role in our day-to-day? The dog doesn’t know that you can hear it. Your reality and its reality don’t intersect, at least not at this moment.

     But anyway, it is October 27th. The sun lurks behind the veil of cumulonimbus, as your block languishes in silence, supine in the face of its treachery. The din of machinery churns somewhere far beyond the hills that mark the end of your hometown. You can recall nights spent with friends in that abandoned factory district, which even now remains caught up in some sort of simulation of life, perpetually grinding along with no beginning or end. Your old friend Daniel, who you had known since the first grade, once accompanied you to the building that decades prior had been known as the L’Oreal Factory. You didn’t know what L’Oreal was, but you insisted that the two of you check it out regardless. So you snuck out of your homes, crept through side streets and alleyways, and eventually arrived at this brick-and-mortar mausoleum. The two of you not-so-nimbly made ingress via an empty window-frame.

     You found yourself in what used to be the product-testing room, not that you were aware of this. Most of the supplies were still there, frozen in time, waiting to be acted upon by a motley crew of frustrated chemists. Daniel and you took everything in, silently making note of any details that caught your interest. Satisfied that you had done this, you turned to him and caught him looking at you with such profound, tangible sadness. Do you remember what he said? He kept his gaze level with yours and told you that he had recently dreamed of his father’s house burning to a crisp. He was riding his violet mountain bike, coming home from baseball practice, choking on the foul tendrils of smoke before he even knew that something was amiss. Then suddenly, there it was. His father’s house, reduced to a fine black ash. Daniel said he couldn’t stop weeping or smiling, and that each response only magnified the other. He was visibly holding back tears as he told you this. You hesitated for a moment and then grabbed his hand before asking yourself whether that was appropriate, partly because you didn’t know what else to do and partly because you had been in love with him for so long, so very long. Four years later he drowned in the reservoir behind the local library. Love having faded into little more than unpredictable pangs of longing by then, you wanted to cry but couldn’t produce anything more than a whimper. Your closest friends apologized to you, as if you had suffered a great loss. In some ways, maybe you had.

     The weather where you live is all sorts of fucked up. It was 80 °F two weeks ago. Today saw a high of 48 °F with a substantial wind chill.

     Putrefied garbage litters the front porch of a semi-abandoned house down the street. Semi-abandoned in the sense that it is now occupied by a corpse. The cleaners don’t come until Monday. It is currently Thursday. You wonder how much temperature affects the decomposition process, if at all.

     In the room over, a light-bulb wavers in and out of existence. You look out the window and see rays of light briefly explode through holes in the clouds, and suddenly it dawns on you that you haven’t left the house in a year. And maybe that’s because there’s a real risk in that, walking down those steps and out your front door, because you know that once you leave you won’t be able to control the outcome. But how many times have you relied on that very same lack of control as a viable exit strategy? Our rationalizations are so malleable, wouldn’t you agree? They are wonderful evidence of our adaptability. They attract and repulse us in equal measure.

     To your left sits an orange spiral notebook, its pages a distinct Joycean yellow. Near the back rests your proudest moment. During the final weeks of your Junior year in college, after you had stopped taking Xanax and started running ten miles a day, you wrote a poem that linked the Nietzchean concepts of eternal recurrence and Amor Fati to the central tenets of Tantra Yoga, because you are an intellectual first and foremost. Your creative nonfiction professor loved the way it conveyed our need to take solace in our mortality. You loved that you stumbled upon a more academic way of writing about dying.

     After some gentle prodding on the part of your classmates, you submitted it to your school’s poetry journal. What was it called? The Tribune? Something like that, I think. As always, you both loved and loathed your creation, somehow convinced that a) in comparison to the fluffy nonsense your peers had submitted, your poem was an undeniable masterstroke of subtle brilliance, and b) it was the long-sought after piece of evidence that would finally reveal you for the fraud you always suspected you were.

     The truth typically residing somewhere in the middle, what ended up happening was 25 or so of your peers picked up that copy of The Tribune(?!?), skimmed through it once, and promptly forgot about it. Everyone expect one student that is, a trans woman named Marcie who will one day go on to become a well-respected writer and activist. She read your poem night after night, lost in the throes of staggering depression and dysphoria, letting every syllable linger on her lips the way one glides their fingers across the back of a lover that is drifting off to sleep. You will never know that Marcie exists, and surely enough, one week after first reading your poem she couldn’t even remember your name. So maybe you were right all along. Maybe your intuition was spot on, and you’re really a fraud. But Marcie, the only person in the history of the universe that will ever commit your words to memory, would beg to differ.

     By now the sky has grown a dark, somber shade of blue. The lights from the nearby city ensure that you will never be lost in that perfect darkness you desire. Didn’t one of your teammates on the tennis team say something to that effect? It was late one evening, if memory serves. You were walking home from practice. You were standing on the corner of Valley and Styles, waiting for the light to turn red, when they observed that you seek a perfect darkness in which to submerge yourself. You looked at them with what I’ll call feigned surprise. They knew what it was too, because they continued, saying that nothing less than perfect darkness will ever do. Of course, you know damn well that nothing of that caliber will ever truly manifest, because in the innermost recesses of your consciousness you will always be scared to die. But what did they know? you ask yourself while staring at the branches of your neighbor’s evergreen. They moved to California after saving up money that they had earned working at the local food court, only to die a week later when their brakes gave out on the highway.

     Our rationalizations attract and repulse us in equal measure, but at all times they are just a form of system justification. The self, being a system first and foremost, and a fragile one at that, must remain properly insulated at all times, lest the universe tear it to shreds.

     You think about this for a moment. You pour yourself into something that you hope will be remembered as a work of beauty. Like all acts of creation, this process involves a mixture of performance and genuine out-of-body flow, and...well, maybe it isn’t entirely fair to paint the creative process with such broad strokes. But if creativity is an extension of the self, and the self is a constantly generated performance, why would it be unfair to characterize creation as, at the very least, a somewhat performative thing? And at any rate, if........but anyway, you spend all this time cultivating a very particular product, expecting - well, expecting what, exactly? Should people hold their breath because you’ve created something? Might the noosphere become a unified consciousness that subsequently anoints you its sole philosophical and artistic voice?

     No. No, things limp forward as always. And fuck, even if something did happen, then what? Will that make any difference when your body starts breaking down? You put something into the world. Well, what about it? Sooner or later you will die, regardless of whatever faux-profound drivel you deliriously dredge up. You never had any control. Before you know it, all traces of your existence will make their bed amongst the stars. And that is but a temporary state, for even celestial bodies wither in the face of eternity.

     A motorcycle tears down your street like an elemental force. Concrete melts away, revealing a profound, unending void where the core of the world ought to be. Now the houses aren’t connected to anything. They just hover, seemingly untouched by the passing of time. The moon presides over all of this, but only partially. It is utterly disinterested. You wish you could be such an impartial observer.

      Across the way there emerges a simple chord progression. ii-V7-IV-vi7, or something like that - your ear was never the best. But your ears perk up nevertheless, and now the drums are coming in with a steady beat. The synth is playing a familiar melody. A voice intones something in a language you don’t understand, but for the love of god you feel like you know what’s being said.

     What do you think this voice is saying? It’s saying you never had any control, and you never will, but there’s a hell of a gap between domination and passive observance. You don’t want either of these things. You know that life is nothing but a series of potentialities. Though it is tempting to believe that these potentialities can only be realized under strict conditions, the truth is we only believe this because we know these conditions will likely never come to pass. And we don’t want them to. Anything less than perfect won’t do, and perfection is an artificial construct. Comfortable with these facts, we sit stock still and don’t do a god damn thing because we are scared. You are fucking terrified of putting yourself out there because you want to preserve this image of yourself that you didn’t do shit to earn. You pay lip service to perfection and cling to the chaos that keeps it from being, because that lack of control shields you from the sting of failure, even as it opens you up to the much longer-lasting pain of regret. Maybe you want to believe that you won’t become that person whose final days are consumed by an endless litany of what if’s. But that will be you. Rest assured, if you continue to sit still that will almost certainly be you.

     So you take a deep breath and stand up. The quarter note pulse of the drums shakes the walls of your bedroom. You stand up, brace yourself, and leap out the window because by now the ground has disintegrated completely and there’s no longer such a thing as gravity. You float above that infinite void, that imperfect darkness, and before you know it the music has become a cyclone in miniature that envelops you. One year removed since you last left your house, you swear it feels like your flesh is being stripped off the bone. The air is toxic. With every breath you burn from the inside-out. But the music doesn’t mind this. Each chord cuts through the toxicity. So what do you do? You dance. For the first time in your life you dance like you are truly comfortable with yourself. There won’t be many moments like this going forward, though truth be told, there will be more of them than you probably expect. The beat persists and you keep dancing, hovering above the imperfect darkness while the sliver of moon impassively looks on, a truly impartial observer.