#grey host reinforcements

[mtg-cards-hourly]

Grey Host Reinforcements

"I hope they haven't forgotten how to fight." —Gimli

Artist: Patrik Hell TCG Player Link Scryfall Link EDHREC Link

[almostlookedhuman]

[tkthrilla-writes]

Charm for Good Luck

WARNING!!!!!! this has depictions of depression, suicide and drowning!!!!! Reader discretion is advised!!!!

Staring up at the ceiling, in his bed, his shirt unbuttoned to reveal the grey and scared skin underneath. The feelings of crushing defeat piercing his cold dead heart, he couldn’t understand where it was coming from. He couldn’t remember how he got here in his room down in hell, last he remembered was preparing a shopping list in his host’s mother’s home.

Trying to prop himself up on his elbows, he found it hard to do so, like the weight in his chest was quite literally pushing him down. Looking down to eye his chest, he noticed he wasn’t the only one in his bed, turns out his darling host was there, hair spread out covering their delightful face. By the looks of it they were asleep on him, making a warm smile appear on his face. Though the question of what they were doing there in the first place crossed his mind. Had he accidentally dragged them down to hell with him when he came? It was a rare coherence when that happened, however over the years of their contract, Alasator had been gaining more control in preventing that happening to stronger their bond became.

He reached a hand over their hand, combing through their hair and detangling it at the knots, for some reason his hand feeling heavier and heavier by the second. He simply brushed it off, thinking it was simple strain from how exhausting their days have been these last few weeks. “Dearest,” he started softly, “we need to wake up, we have quite a lot to do,” he continued, the swelling in his heart continued to weigh him down.

His host was normally quite quick to wake up, so after the first couple of shakes on their head brought no reaction did it finally register that something might be dreadfully wrong. “Darling?” Alastor questioned, moving his hand down to their shoulder, gently removing them from his person to lay more on the bed. Still not able to see them properly, he tried a second time to prop himself up, “Dar-“ now he got a clear view of the state of his host.

Eyes wide open and greyed, face pale and bloated. Alastor cried out their name, all feelings of heaviness gone from the shock and how alert he became in the moment, jolting up to sit up properly to start shaking them, trying to get a reaction from them. He shouted their name again, louder and more desperate now, smile far from being absent from his face, with his voice shifting between radio glitches to actually using his normal voice without radio effects.

He shouted their name a few more times, each time getting louder and louder, each time failing, even going as far as to gently while still apply force to slap their head, desperate for a reaction that he isn’t getting, head instead limping and moving to the force that was applied to it.

Finally having enough he gets off the bed and summoned his microphone, this wasn’t his host, only a mere reflection of what was happening in the human realm. He needed to take over! NOW!

He slammed his microphone down on the ground, fully expecting to now take over their body… but it didn’t work… if anything everything got fuzzier and harder to focus. It was as if they were actively blocking him out, something they haven’t done in oh so long. He slammed his microphone down, more forcefully this time, panic of not knowing what is happening to them creeping in. But still nothing happened.

He yelled out in frustration, screaming their name out loud like Bloody Mary, and in his fit of rage he used his powerful magic to telepathically make the bed slam into the door of his room. The body of his host dissipating from the sudden movement, door and bed breaking and leaning on the opposing wall outside his room. Feeling even more enraged, he started to repeatedly slam his microphone on the ground. He was nearly there, he could feel it with how exasperated he was, it just felt like a kicking down a metal door with extra reinforcements.

And at long last… he finally broke down that door…

Waking up to a gasp and jolting up from the bathtub. Alastor now in his host’s body let out very harsh sounding coughs. Water sprayed everywhere with his jolt, on the walls and on the floor, nearly reaching the toilet on the otherside of the bathroom. While even taking over his human dearest, eyes were like radio dials, showing just how much of a hole he had now, voodoo symbols filtering through the air announcing his arrival.

His coughing turned into hacking, lungs full of water that would not come out. He turned and leaned over weakly trying to summon the strength to get out of the bathtub, but it only led to him vomiting all the water that was inside their body out and onto the floor. Feeling more water climbing up at the back of his throat he gave up on leaving the tub very quickly, turning to the vapor ridden wall beside him, shakily drawing symbols that he had practiced a million times when he was alive, and a million more times in his death. Slamming his hand on them to activate their spell, filling the room with a sharp red glow that near instantly. Once the red faded his breathing started to calm down, a healing spell, something that removed the water from inside their body.

“What,” he started, still grasping for air, “happened?” he was in total control, so obviously he was met with silence. Whenever he was in complete control it is as if the host of the body is in a slumber, which was the case since before he woke the body up.

He looked around the room and saw what a mess was left by the water. Flinging his arm to wave shadows out, commanding them to clean the bathroom from the watery mess, which they obeyed and everything was as it should, floors dried, clothes neatly folded on the closed toilet, all that remained was to ensure the Madam was not home. Thankfully the shadow he sent out to scout the house for her presence came back to report she was not home. Good, the last thing the poor woman needed was to walk in on her child nearly dying.

“What’s going on?” a meek voice sounded in the back of his head. Making him lean back in the bathtub to try and calm himself as much as possible, which he found hard to do in the now cold deathtrap they both were in.

As softly as possible he called out their name, “You tell me.” Trying to hold himself back from absolutely exploding on them, he could already feel them trembling in fear, just as much as he knew they could feel his frustration from the stress building up.

There was a pause in the air, till the meek and extremely weak sounding voice of his host, “I fell asleep…”

“You-“ he interrupted himself, trying to make sure to handle the situation as delicately as possible, taking a steady breathe in and out, “nearly drowned…” he ended quietly and softly. Feeling the waves of failure crashing down on him. Something that normally would give him great pleasure and joy in this world, but he has grown far too fond of his host to enjoy it from them.

“Makes sense,” they replied back, “wish I could drown,” this made Alastor freeze up, “but it already feels like I am,” he could hear them choking up a sob in their mind, despite the forced and strained smile he wore, he could feel tears starting to form. “It’s been nearly a year! It’s not fair!” this is broke the dam and tears let loose.

“I know my dear, I know your struggles,” Alastor cooed, bringing the shared body’s hands up to their face, trying to wipe away the tears while being sure to cup their cheeks in whatever comfort he could try to provide.

“I’m twenty-fucking-whatever! With a bloody degree! But no, I’m unqualified for a proper job, too over qualified for a shitty part-time! Just what the royal fuck am I supposed to do!” he could hear them screaming out in despair, it’s not the first time this has happened but their breakdowns were never this bad. Honestly he had to admire their perseverance on this matter, some people of his time would’ve just given up and dropped dead. “And to top it all off, I can’t even afford my own place! Have to bunk down with my parents! Again!”

Tears still streaming down their face, falling and making their way into the cold water while Alastor continued to gently hold their face, now using their thumbs to caress their cheeks, trying even more to provide some comfort. “When is the next one?” he whispered, there have been so many of them he hardly has been able to keep track of them.

“Tomorrow at 1pm,” the defeat started to echo in his head, “Al?” he hummed in acknowledgment, “What am I going to do?” A good question indeed, this contract of there’s was him helping them in whatever way he can to succeed in exchange for their soul and servitude in hell. And he has not been able to uphold his end of the bargain quite well. First few interviews with him taking over turned out to be a fluke, turns out you can’t simply charm your way into being hired like you could in the 20’s. Then he simply took the backseat and let his host show him the ins and outs of modern-day interviews, and they certainly got close with a few call backs, but still nothing.

“I genuinely do not know sweetheart,” an endearing term he is starting to enjoy using in these times, his little way of showing that no matter what he will always be there. But his statement only gave way to more silence for a few more moments. He was about to get up, seeing their body start to get goosebumps from how cold the water was getting, but stopped when his host spoke up again, “What is hell like?”

He let out a sigh, they didn’t have many conversations like these, as much as it was going to be the reality of them being with him in hell, long were the days he used this topic to jest and upset them. “I am truly sorry to disappoint, but it somewhat similar to this. If you are referring to it in terms of struggles. Drug fuelled streets, people selling their souls and themselves to make a buck, if you’re not lucky in making connections your suffering does continue.”

There was a prolonging silence, Alastor would’ve tried another attempt at getting out of the water if it weren’t for the crushing defeat that had him hunching forward, nose coming in contact with the water, a harsh and choked up sob breaking out from his throat, “I have to go through this again!” this time the voice of his host that resounded in their head was loud and absolutely soul crushing. If he had his own heart, Alastor was sure it would have broken tenfold at this sound of this distress.

“No, never!” he cried out, starting to slowly lose control as they started to gain more power over themselves again, but while he was up and about, he would do whatever he can to provide comfort, lest he wants them to harm themselves again, “We made a deal!” he removed their hands from their face, wrapping them around their shoulders as if to embrace them in a hug, “You will succeed in this life, and if I have anything to say about it, you will succeed in the next in Hell!” he was still feeling the waves of powerful emotions coursing through them as he tried to hold back a sob. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this in his time alive, but then again, he hardly felt pity or sorrow for anyone except for his own mother, not even for himself.

“You mean it?” his host asked, going back to the slight meek voice that they had moments ago.

“HA!” he exclaimed, “Like I would let my first human contract become like one of those drug and sex fuelled pigs that never amounted to anything in their lives! And will continue to amount to anything in Hell! Only destined to be exterminated and perished!” he continued starting to feel a wave of slight confidence building up, trying to build it up as much as he could through his way of reassurance. Which seemed to work because he felt laughter resound through their shared body, “You are starting to share my sense of humour my dearest,” he jested while he could mentally feel them childishly sticking their tongue out at him.

Finally he was able to get out of the cold bath water, with heavy shiver that nearly rendered him unable to continue moving, he snapped his fingers which made the towel on the rack float through the air and wrap around their body, hearing a faint mmm cold being let out by his host. Merely continuing with what he was planning, pausing for only a second to make sure to send waves of warmth to his host and stroke their cheek playfully, making his way to the bathroom door to leave. Only stopping as the state they were in caught his eye in the mirror.

Wet hair stuck to their face, skin paler than the norm, eyes sunken and dark circles forming, hardly looking presentable at all. “We may or may not have let go of ourselves,” the sight broke him, smile wavering, he supposes they both have been too out of it to notice, “It’s ok though, mum’s got a lot of makeup, I’m sure we can use some to look good for… tomorrow.”

What he was mostly paying attention to were the eyes, they had a very slight red tint to them that were only noticeable if you really paid attention to it. That was mostly the only way that anyone could tell that Alastor was in control of his host, aside from the smile ofcourse. “An issue for tomorrow morning dearest,” he merely said walking out the door and down the corridor to their bedroom.

“Can I be your receptionist?” his host’s voice peeked up.

“Excuse me dearest?”

“Yeah in Hell, can I be your receptionist?”

“Of all the things you could strive for. Fame and power, you would aim for something below your talent’s?” he asked in amusement.

“Maybe I would go for that later, but I think I would rather work and be close to you.” This made him stop in his tracks, suddenly feeling flustered and muttering something along the lines of full of surprises, before marching through the bedroom door and beelining for the cabinet with indoor clothes, drying off and getting dressed. The rest of the day will be focused on solely comfort and relaxation for his host. Hotel and Overlord duties be damned, his human needed him.

He was about to leave the bedroom now that he was dressed to the nines in fluffy cat pyjamas, though the clothes hanging on the wardrobe caught his attention. Making him now walk up to inspect it, “Is this what you are wearing tomorrow?”

“Yes…is it bad?” confidence was on the verge of breaking once more as doubt started to creep into their shared head.

“Not at all, you would be dressed for success,” Alastor smiled warmly, “It only is missing one small detail.” Snapping his fingers to make a necklace with a small amulet attached appear in his hand, hooking it onto the neck of the hanger. Now flicking his wrist to make a red scarf appear, wrapping on the hanger well enough to cover the amulet, “And now dressed for the kill!” he exclaimed proudly.

“What is that?”

“Just a little charm for good luck, not that you’ll need it, I am sure you will win them over,” Alastor bounced on the body’s heels placing the clothes to hang back on the wardrobe, putting a pep in his step leaving the bedroom.

“Oh yes because the other how many other interviews went so well,” his darling said sarcastically. He could quite literally feel them rolling their eyes in their conscious.

“Give it time my dear,” he spread his arms out and gave himself a little twirl, enlightened that they are feeling better, “Afterall you did win me over!”

[thefadecodex]

As discussed in the Theory of Spirit Complexity, spirits can evolve into more complex forms through direct interaction with the physical world or by observing and mirroring these interactions within the Fade. This concept builds upon and expands ideas introduced in the Spiritual Alignment Classification System and When Purpose Falters.

This creator is theorizing based on the lore that there are multiple, flexible pathways to purpose (or corruption) and evolution for spirits. An example of this train of thought is below:

In previous games and established lore, our understanding of spirits' purpose and corruption remains limited, often resulting in rigid assumptions about how corruption manifests. 

For example:

When Justice merged with Anders, he transformed into Vengeance, reinforcing the belief that a Spirit of Justice, when corrupted, must inevitably become a Spirit of Vengeance. (side note from the creator: I suspect this might be linked to the Blight present in Anders, which is discussed further down)

This narrow perspective overlooks the potential nuances and variability in how spirits might experience corruption or transformation. 

Instead, let’s look at other forms that a Spirit of Justice could possible become if it is corrupted: 

What determines what a spirit will be corrupted into? The creator of The Fade Codex theorizes that it is based on the situation that put the spirit against it’s original purpose. Going with the example above of Justice being corrupted:

Fear: A Spirit of Justice becomes so afraid of failure or further injustices it can become paralyzed or overly reactive.

Despair: A Spirit of Justice witnessing endless cycles of injustice and failure to make meaningful change.

Vengeance: A Spirit of Justice becomes consumed with frustration and anger leading an overwhelming desire to punish rather than balance.

Tyranny: A Spirit of Justice becomes obsessed with enforcing order and fairness to an extreme that it suppresses freedom and choice.

Passivity: A Spirit of Justice becomes overwhelmed by the scale of injustice or believes that intervention will always lead to unintended harm, leading to inaction.

Case Study: The Blight Within – Justice and Anders

Subject: The Spirit of Justice

Host: Anders, Grey Warden and Apostate Mage

Corrupting Influence: The Blight (disembodied rage of the Titans)

Background: Justice, a Fade spirit inhabiting the corpse of Grey Warden Kristoff, merged with Anders, a Grey Warden mage consumed by anger at the oppression of mages. Anders’ Blight-tainted blood, carrying the Titans' disembodied rage, began corrupting Justice's purpose.

Observation: Initially driven by balance and fairness, Justice was twisted by the Blight's primal fury and Anders’ deeply personal anger regarding the treatment of mages. The Blight amplified Justice’s purpose into something violent and unyielding, warping it into Vengeance—a spirit driven by rage, punishment, and destruction rather than resolution.

Case Study: Manfred

The same line of reasoning can be applied to Manfred, a Spirit of Curiosity inhabiting a skeleton. However, Manfred's case differs significantly from Anders and Justice or Wynne and Faith, as the skeleton he occupies lacks a pre-existing soul.  

Emmrich observes that Manfred is actively learning, with his progress accelerating after leaving the Grand Necropolis, where his growth had been gradual.

Emmrich notes Manfred's increasing engagement in various behaviors and his eventual ability to speak, albeit very rudimentary. Additionally, Winter Wise (@winter-wise) highlights that Manfred seems to be mimicking Emmrich's actions, suggesting that his learning is not purely instinctive but shaped by observation and imitation.

Manfred has a stick he likes to point around - Emmrich uses a staff Manfred walked into a rose bush - Emmrich loves flowers Manfred likes to collect shiny things, including gilded things - Emmrich wears a lot of gold

This suggests that Manfred is actively learning and evolving.  

Several codex entries reflect Emmrich's ongoing contemplation of spirit consciousness. In 'The Dawn of Consciousness,' he questions when wisps begin to change, pondering "which can name its own interests…[and] own self-reflection." 

In another entry, ‘Emmrich: Note to Harding on Souls,’ he defines a soul as "the richly numinous force within every living being… and a spirit as an entity formed entirely in the Fade from raw magic." We receive this codex immediately upon recruiting Emmrich, so it does predates Solas's revelation about his transition from a spirit in the Fade to a physical form

This implies that spirits and souls may not be as fundamentally different as once believed, hinting at a shared essence that bridges the Fade and the physical world.

What, then, is Manfred evolving into? Will he become a “person” as defined by the majority of Thedas? Or is he developing into a more complex spirit, perhaps transitioning from a Spirit of Curiosity into something like a Spirit of Learning? 

The creator of The Fade Codex leans toward Solas's perspective—that spirits can be considered "persons," regardless of whether they possess a physical body or not. However, at this stage, the answer remains uncertain.

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Okay, this is really nitpicky, but I have to say it. When the Fëanoreans landed in Middle-earth, Celegorm did not lead an army south and relieve the siege of the Falathrim. I’m seen that referenced or mentions in a lot of meta and fics, but it never happened. And there is no indication that Celegorm even met Círdan or any of his people, or was even aware of them prior to Fingolfin’s forces arriving.

What happened was that Morgoth reacted to the Fëanorean forces’ arrival by pulling his army besieging the Falathrim away and sending it north towards Ard-galen. And then, when it was in the north, far from the Falas, attacking the Fëanoreans, Celegorm defeated that army.

Yes, this is minor, and yes, it’s beneficial to the Falathrim that the arrival of the Fëanoreans made Morgoth decide he needed that army more elsewhere, but there is no direct “showing up and rescuing them” moment, and none of the Fëanoreans are anywhere near the Falas during the Battle-under-Stars, and Celegorm has no more to do with the benefit to the Falathrim than anyone else does (though he gets the Fëanorean forces out of a tight spot) and this just seems to be a weirdly common fanon misconception?

Under the cold stars before the rising of the Moon the host of Fëanor went up the long Firth of Drengist that pierced the Echoing Hills of Ered Lómin, and passed thus from the shores into the great land of Hithlum; and they came at length to the long lake of Mithrim, and upon its northern shore made their encampment in the region that bore the same name. But the host of Morgoth, aroused by the tumult of Lammoth and the light of the burning at Losgar, came through the passes of the Ered Wethrin, the Mountains of Shadow, and assailed Fëanor on a sudden, before his camp was full-wrought or put into defence; and there on the grey fields of Mithrim was fought the Second Battle of the Wars of Beleriand. Dagor-nuin-Giliath it is named, the Battle-under-Stars, for the Moon had not yet risen; and it is renowned in song.

The Noldor, outnumbered and taken at unawares, were yet swiftly victorious; for the light of Aman was not yet dimmed in their eyes, and they were strong and swift, and deadly in anger, and their swords were long and terrible. The Orcs fled before them, and they were driven forth from Mithrim with great slaughter, and hunted over the Mountains of Shadow into the great plain of Ard-galen, that lay northward of Dorthonion. There [in Ard-galen] the armies of Morgoth that had passed south into the Vale of Sirion and beleagured [EDIT] Círdan in the Havens of the Falas came up to their aid, and were caught in their ruin. For Celegorm, Fëanor’s son, having news of them, waylaid them with a part of the Elven-host, and coming down out of the hills near Eithel Sirion drove them into the Fen of Serech.

If you will indulge my very bad edit of the Beleriand map:

The orcs coming from across Ard-galen from Angband cross the mountains and attack the Fëanoreans up at Mithrim, in the top. The Fëanoreans drive them back over the mountains into Ard-galen. The orcs that were besieging the Falas, brought up as reinforcements for the other orcs, come up all the way into Ard-galen. Celegorm, attacking from Eithel Sirion (which is north of the Fen of Serech), drives them south into the Fen.

At no point in this are the Fëanoreans - Celegorm or other - anywhere near the Falas. Celegorm's actions have no more impact on the Falas specifically than anyone else's.

[waitingforsecretsouls]

The amount of times I've seen the Dagor-nuin-Giliath misconstrued as a defeat, or "first sign" of the inevitable failure for the Fëanorians is just baffling if you consider the actual events.

But the host of Morgoth, aroused by the tumult of Lammoth and the light of the burning at Losgar, came through the passes of Ered Wethrin, the Mountains of Shadow, and assailed Fëanor on a sudden, before his camp was full-wrought or put in defence; and there on the grey fields of Mithrim was fought the Second Battle in the Wars of Beleriand. Dagor-nuin-Giliath it is named, the Battle-under-Stars, for the Moon had not yet risen; and it is renowned in song. The Noldor, outnumbered and taken at unawares, were yet swiftly victorious; for the light of Aman was not yet dimmed in their eyes, and they were strong and swift, and deadly in anger, and their swords were long and terrible. The Orcs fled before them, and they were driven forth from Mithrim with great slaughter, and hunted over the Mountains of Shadow into the great plain of Ard-galen, that lay northward of Dorthonion. There the armies of Morgoth that had passed south into the Vale of Sirion and beleaguered Círdan in the Havens of the Falas came up to their aid, and were caught in their ruin. For Celegorm, Fëanor’s son, having news of them, waylaid them with a part of the Elven-host, and coming down upon them out of the hills near Eithel Sirion drove them into the Fen of Serech. Evil indeed were the tidings that came at last to Angband, and Morgoth was dismayed. Ten days that battle lasted, and from it returned of all the hosts that he had prepared for the conquest of Beleriand no more than a handful of leaves.

-The Silmarillion, Chapter 13: OF THE RETURN OF THE NOLDOR

The Battle was a victory, not only barely eeked out but an utter eradication of Morgoth's armies. Not only the forces specifically marshalled against the arriving Noldor (what seems to be a reconstructed eastern host, with the last one mostly destroyed in the First Battle) but also Morgoth's initial western host occupied besieging Círdan and people, that had to be diverted for attempted reinforcement. Which the Fëanorians quickly shatter without issue, despite having to divide their forces. Something important for me to bring up because you'll often see the argument that the Fëanorians doomed themselves by cutting of the Nolo-and Arafinwëan manpower, which both ignores how Nolofinwë at the time was actively disputing Fëanor's leadership and therefore would not necessarily have led to an effective united front (with the implied 'solution' mostly boiling down to "Fëanor should have let Nolofinwë usurp his kingship because he would have made a better king anyway" and never "maybe Nolofinwë should have stopped agitating against the guy who was rightful king by all procedures of inheritance we ever see (and Fingolfin himself would adopt) to get himself crowned as his first priority"), as well as how even just the Fëanorians alone completely curbstomped the forces of Morgoth that had previously scattered the Laiquendi, confined Thingol to Doriath and besieged Cirdan. Sure, eventually they would have likely been overwhelmed by the unending stream of new armies, but that's exactly the same thing that eventually happens in canon anyway, even with the rest of the exiles present. Trying to argue that the Dagor-nuin-Giliath in particular already demonstrates the certainty of the Noldor's defeat is nonsensical.

It was "renown in song"! And given that this is mentioned in context of the victory it was, it feels safe to say the renown in question was of celebratory nature (as opposed to the often celebrated Fingolfin duel, which in-universe is explicitly described as thus: "The Orcs made no boast of that duel at the gate; neither do the Elves sing of it, for their sorrow is too deep."). Given how sparse the details and hints we get towards the Fëanorians and east Beleriand side of things can be, the vast majority of it in implications or one-liners (such as most of their alliances and friendships) and after-the fact admissions ("bereft of their power and glory of old" being the most prominent one that comes to mind), this just makes me very happy. Also disappointed-but-not-surprised how often it goes ignored or straight-up inverted. No doubt in large part due to the following:

Thus it was that he [Fëanor] drew far ahead of the van of his host; and seeing this the servants of Morgoth turned to bay, and there issued from Angband Balrogs to aid them. There upon the confines of Dor Daedeloth, the land of Morgoth, Fëanor was surrounded, with few friends about him. Long he fought on, and undismayed, though he was wrapped in fire and wounded with many wounds; but at the last he was smitten to the ground by Gothmog, Lord of Balrogs, whom Ecthelion after slew in Gondolin. There he would have perished, had not his sons in that moment come up with force to his aid; and the Balrogs left him, and departed to Angband.

First up, any and all attempts to try and paint this as a pathetic end are straight-up ludicrous (especially for people who are impressed by Fingolfin's duel with Morgoth later on). Fëanor in this is not only taking on a variety of Balrogs but also what seems like the remnants of the eastern host that his forces had hunted into Ard-Galen in the previous section (once they notice his separation from his army they turn from flight back towards him; the Balrogs are even specifically noted to "aid" them!). And he's doing it. By. Himself. Not only that, putting up a long and fierce resistance against multiple Balrogs (compare this to Fingon in the Nirnaeth, who gets quickly tripped up by two of them).

The Balrogs are always depicted as Morgoths elite troops, their last appearance in the story having been to drive off the empowered Ungoliant:

But Ungoliant had grown great, and he less by the power that had gone out of him; and she rose against him, and her cloud closed about him, and she enmeshed him in a web of clinging thongs to strangle him. Then Morgoth sent forth a terrible cry, that echoed in the mountains. [...] The cry of Morgoth in that hour was the greatest and most dreadful that was ever heard in the northern world; the mountains shook, and the earth trembled, and rocks were riven asunder. Deep in forgotten places that cry was heard. Far beneath the ruined halls of Angband, in vaults to which the Valar in the haste of their assault had not descended, Balrogs lurked still, awaiting ever the return of their Lord; and now swiftly they arose, and passing over Hithlum they came to Lammoth as a tempest of fire. With their whips of flame they smote asunder the webs of Ungoliant, and she quailed, and turned to flight, belching black vapours to cover her[...]. -The Silmarillion, Chapter 9: OF THE FLIGHT OF THE NOLDOR

(Though I'll grant that there might have been less Balrogs present in the battle against Fëanor)

I'll also point out that the Balrogs retreat the moment the rest of the Fëanorian host and sons arrive as reinforcement, indicating they were not confident in their chances to take them on (otherwise why not take this chance to destroy your enemies once and for all, before they can properly encamp and establish themselves?), which seems reasonably, given the extended struggle even Fëanor alone put up against them (to the point that despite drawing "far ahead" of his van, said van caught up in time to prevent the last of it).

So, obviously the death of their father and king still would have been a heavy blow, far be it from me to deny this (despite the stories refusal to give us any details on the emotional impact of it...), but I reject the notion that it turned the battle into a net "loss", especially if you keep in mind the unusual circumstances of it that are already kind of separated from the battle proper. Which leads into my last point, no longer about the battle itself but still relevant:

Then his sons raised up their father and bore him back towards Mithrim. But as they drew near to Eithel Sirion and were upon the upward path to the pass over the mountains, Fëanor bade them halt; for his wounds were mortal, and he knew that his hour was come. And looking out from the slopes of Ered Wethrin with his last sight he beheld far off the peaks of Thangorodrim, mightiest of the towers of Middle-earth, and knew with the foreknowledge of death that no power of the Noldor would ever overthrow them; but he cursed the name of Morgoth thrice, and laid it upon his sons to hold to their oath, and to avenge their father. -The Silmarillion, Chapter 13: OF THE RETURN OF THE NOLDOR

Even if you are a fervent believer in the fact that Fëanor truly had a clear revelation about the future somehow (at the very least in part because you prefer the omniscient narrator to the in-universe chroniclers, I presume), even if you believe he, dying, would have known this epiphany for what it was: in-universe this would have been ludicrous to assume and incongruent with the very recent lived experience of him and his people. The Fëanorians, it bears repeating, just won a crushing victory against Morgoths forces, which they near obliterated, and even his most elite soldiers fled before them, the only notable casualty occuring due to singular circumstances (which fandom is not slow to point out when it comes to more humoristic purposes). There is literally NO rational reason for the Fëanorians, and indeed, Fëanor himself, to see their cause as doomed based on their experiences with Morgoth and his forces! So even if Fëanor truly gained this "foreknowledge", why should he have heeded it? The guy laughted in the face and threats of his worlds angels! These characters do not know they are in a story about fate and doom without recurse from either, and are determined to fight against such forces whenever they are presented or threatened with them. So the argument I see that uses this as another ammunition why "Fëanor sucked and was a bad dad!" (his sons are literally men grown...) because he urged his sons to remain committed to a cause he "knew was doomed" just ignores everything about recent events and the Fëanorian mindset and determination.

Since it's one of my greatest gripes, I also have to once again ask: where, in this, do people see this infamous "second oath" (which...wouldn't that make Celegorm's recital of it in Nargothrond a "Third Oath"? Yet I've never seen that argument, funny that) ?

(I also disagree with the occasional choice to present Maedhros' capture as somehow still part of it, which it very much is not, however close to the battle's conclusion it might have happened, since the concession of defeat by Morgoth's embassy necessitates for that battle to be regarded as concluded by both parties imo. I'd also argue that the Fëanorians took some time to recover from the ten day battle and fresh grief of loosing their father, as well as time to debate the offer for a few days at the least, something which Maedhros needing to convince his brothers of his idea kind of implies, nevermind the other practicalities of it, such as agreeing upon the place for negotiations and numbers of troops allowed (which both sides break, but would still have been negotiated) with Morgoth's embassy, which would have taken additional time. Which is not even mentioning Maedhros potential coronation. But that's neither here nor there...)

[gwaedhannen]

Preamble: the state of Beleriand after the First Battle

Ah fuck guess I'm writing this now. Bullet-point style because all the best AUs use it (yes I'm talking about @thelordofgifs's The Fairest Stars) and definitely not because I'm lazy.

Quick synopsis of the First Battle in Y.T. 1497:

Morgoth upon his return sends two orc-hosts through the northern passes, the west-host down Sirion and Narog and the east down Celon and Gelion.

The east-host is beaten by Thingol and the Laiquendi, but the Laiquendi take heavy losses, and their king Denethor and his kin are all slain on Amon Ereb before Thingol can reinforce them.

The dwarves of Mount Dolmed deal with the surviving orcs.

The west-host cuts Thingol off from Círdan, and the Falathrim are driven back to Eglarest and Brithombar and besieged.

The aftermath:

Thingol pulls his people into Neldoreth and Region, and Melian raises the Girdle. Doriath is founded.

The surviving Laiquendi either scatter into Ossiriand or join with Thingol's people.

Orcs have the run of West Beleriand.

Eglarest and Brithombar are besieged until Fëanáro's host arrives and the siege is called off to go deal with them (and they're destroyed by Tyelkormo's forces).

...But in this universe, Fëanáro and the rest of the Noldor are still on the Helcaraxë for another 25 solar years.

Now we're getting into conjecture:

In canon, Eglarest and Brithombar are besieged and destroyed a year after the Nírnaeth, thanks to Morgoth's siege engineers. This is despite the elves of Nargothrond helping to rebuild the cities during the Long Peace, and the Falathrim's reinforcement by survivors of the battle and the fall of Hithlum. Only a few survivors escape with Círdan to Balar and the mouths of Sirion. Three fleeing ships also sail far further south and found Edhellond near where Dol Amroth will eventually be. The rest of the Havens' inhabitants are killed or captured.

It's still Y.T. 1497. Morgoth hasn't had centuries to innovate his siege technology, but Círdan's cities also haven't been rebuilt with Noldor walls.

The Grey Annals says Fëanáro's host arrives some seven solar years after Melian raises the Girdle.

(Yes if we go by the usual "1 tree year = 9.582 solar years" then it could've been upwards of 25 solar years since the Darkening in 1495 before the landing at Losgar.)

(I hate Tolkien's timelines sometimes.)

Círdan holds out for over a decade. The orcs can't completely starve them thanks to the ocean, but repeated assaults on the walls wear down the defenders, and there's only so much fish and seaweed.

Meanwhile, the Northern Sindar of Mithrim and Nevrast are constantly harassed by the rest of Morgoth's west-host. Círdan sends ships north to evacuate those he can, but he only has so many ships and men.

The orcs have them cut off from Doriath, but they're not living this far away from Menegroth because they like Thingol's rule. They theoretically acknowledge him as king but realistically mostly ignore him.

(Any claims that Thingol hates them due to closeness to Angband and rumors they sometimes serve as Morgoth's spies are unfounded exaggerations.)

And while normally he'd ignore them in turn, they're still his people in some form or another.

Thingol sends what sorties he can to harry the west-host, but Doriath's forces are still exhausted from the First Battle and much of the kingdom's resources are tied up in getting the many refugees settled.

It also doesn't help that Melian warns him that should he die, her grief will not allow her to stay on the continent and maintain the Girdle.

One of his chief vassals is dead, and the other is besieged. His lands are being ravaged. But he can't leave his borders, because he isn't willing to risk himself (and therefore the Girdle) falling and exposing the main part of his people to attack.

So he throws himself into making sure his people are as happy as can be and entrusts the war to his captains.

So that's the state of things for the next 15 solar years. Orcs gradually hunt down the remaining wandering Sindar who don't find shelter in Doriath or some hidden refuge. Mithrim and Nevrast slowly depopulate from the Falathrim's evacuation missions, orcs, and what few refugees can sneak by Morgoth's forces to Doriath. Thingol holds lavish banquets and listens to Beleg and Mablung's reports while everyone else sleeps off the wine. He doesn't permit himself time to cry.

Midway through Y.T. 1498, Brithombar falls.

(to be continued eventually)

[sonnenreich]

continuation of (☀️) ⸻ @ashbalfour

The smell of musty books, old wood and cedar has always harboured the cornerstones of familiarity for Zeev. A potpourri of history and cosy feelings. The expensive perfume of his host reinforced the impression of professional experience in dealing with antiques, as well as the shared ambivalence of old and new. Asher's words resonated with a part of him that sought its equal and he recognised, perhaps not a confidant, but a kindred spirit. Zeev's family lived much more in the past than in the present. Isolated from the echoes of incomprehension that still resonated in a world that prided itself on progress, yet turned a blind eye to what had brought them this far in the first place. History, in particular, offered countless conclusions that could expand awareness and increase knowledge. Only those who understood and respected the past could recognise the patterns of the future and act accordingly. However, the witcher had always stayed away from political matters and judgements, so he would not start drawing up equations now. 

Instead, he smiled at the broad-shouldered and tall man, whose demeanour could have been intimidating had the circumstances been different. He exuded an English elegance that Zeev could only declare commendable. “That's the problem,” the blond began, scrutinising a glass case containing an elongated walking cane, the silver head almost unbeatable in its richness of detail. “Some things are not made to be controlled. Have you ever tried to influence the wind? Prevented nature from growing? This may work in some parts, and yet a flower also blossoms in the grey wasteland of a concrete-locked city. The step of understanding is skipped because it is less lucrative for one's own interests. Yet knowledge is just as valuable as possessions. If not more.” He strolled calmly around the exhibits, which Zeev knew were only a fraction of what was really in the Balfour collection. 

Zeev didn't know much about the Briton's family business, though he was aware of the influence they harboured. Preserving supposedly cursed relics, however, sounded noble enough to his ears not to be suspicious of what purpose they served for someone like Asher, if not the desire to protect history. Someone would always come into possession, someone who knew the dangers and acted accordingly was preferable to him than haughtily dealing with things the person didn't understand - and causing harm as a result. This way, the world's view of the inexplicable would never change. A wish that Zeev knew would never come true. But a man was allowed to dream. 

As Zeev continued to survey the room, interested and invested in the other's work, he heard the cosy tingling of magical presences. They were not fundamentally malevolent, as it always was with magic. A fire was not evil, it was not even aware of this concept, yet it could destroy livelihoods and raze countries to the ground. It was a natural occurrence and another facet of the world in which they moved. The actions of an individual did not infer the intentions of the whole, even if it fit better into the narrative of humanity. 

Zeev smirked contentedly at Asher, asking his favourite question when confronted with antiques and obscurities: “Show me your favourite relic and tell me why so.” It was a request, but the witcher did not press him.

[containatrocity]

HC; The Last Crossroads Rockstar

"Oh, no... these are just... the tools of my trade, baby. Now. Who're you takin' your chances on?"

It is a testament to his ego that October Roulette's kit of death has been on grand display since the early days of his fame. The custom engraved .45 Colt Buntline gifted to him at 17 years old depicting honeysuckle flowers, dead trees and runes along the barrel with a red-stained cherrywood handle is where his nickname "Roulette" came from- the gamble a deadly one, not a monetary one, and this side-arm has featured prominently on the cover of every cover his band and solo career saw released, and is a commonly tattooed reference for fans of Autumn's Gamblers or Odd Revolver. It's regarded fondly, an old friend- the one thing that has never left him high and dry, and despite it's age, nearly 31 years old, it functions like new, and the black tarnish on silver barrel only serves to intensify the silvery engraving and citrine stone inlays along the handle- glittering, bright orange eyes staring from the carved-in face of a fanged goat. But it is not typically a .45 round that ends the lives of those who fall to the Gambler, that honor is attached to the 9-inch blade of the skinning knife similarly customized to October's strenuous wants and desires. Intentionally made to be difficult to place as anything other than a standard hunter's kit and therefore easy enough for any party to get their hands on to perform any host of cruelty with, October's favored blade depicts a nightscape between the handle and business end, and is kept sharp enough he could shave with it. It sits hidden in a holster against his side just the same as its partner in crime, prepared to kill at a moment's notice, and it's blood spilled with this knife that imparts it's clinging, coppery smell to the heavy, custom made jacket that hangs around his massive frame. The coat, intentionally made to further bolster an imposing, towering frame, is more threat than fashion, worn even through hot weather over typical crustpunk fare. Heavy metal fasteners reinforce dirty, stained leather and run through matted brown, black, and red fur, strips of fabric and bits of metal fastened to sleeves to further customize something that even those familiar with his celebrity assumed was a simple costume piece. A wolf's pelt lends itself to the collar, thick grey and black not dissimilar from October's own mohawk and Vitiligo dotted, age-marked beard. It has seen as much suffering as its owner, and in the fabric, fur, and leather, it carries the blood spilled from every offering made to that which handed over his success- bodies made and laid to rest at crossroads with surgeon's precision and an artist's madness.

[floorinsite]

Make it floorwise For a Fantastic LVT Installation 

With everything needed to start off a fantastic LVT floor, floorwise makes it easy and affordable to deliver customers a high-quality installation. 

Luxury vinyl is flooring’s growth area with homes and businesses both embracing the product’s easy living nature. Yet, as any experienced floor installer will know, making sure you give a high quality LVT installation is not so easy and takes time, effort and expertise. Fortunately, with floorwise at your side you can be confident that your skills and expertise will be matched by tools, installation and finishing products that provide quality and floorwise’s famous value. 

Quality tools are essential part of making the installation run as smoothly as possible. floorwise distributors across the UK, Ireland and Europe carry a comprehensive range of tools from the world’s best manufacturers. Including surface preparation tools such as the Flex Power Stripper, Long handled scrapers, screeding and adhesive trowels, primer and aeration rollers, pin levellers and stirring stations, LVT laying equipment such as the large plank design cutter, LVT cutters, and small pressure and heavy duty 75kg rollers; there’s a tool for every job. 

Every installer knows that an LVT installation will only ever be as good as the subfloor and so good preparation is key. Failure to ensure a smooth, flat and well-prepared substrate will compromise the installation in terms of appearance and potential failure. With the new products in the Pro-Screed line, floorwise is giving installers everything they need to prepare a floor to the exacting tolerances needed.

For a great problem-solver and time-saver, Pro-Screed Ultra is rapid setting smoothing and levelling compound that it is capable of receiving LVT floors in just three-hours. It can also be poured over old adhesive residue and DPMs and no priming is required on most subfloors. For subfloors that need a little more work, Pro-Screed Xtra is fibre-reinforced for extra strength and flexibility. It’s also moisture tolerant so can be used above or beneath DPMs. Just like Pro-Screed Ultra, Xtra has an install time of just three-hours, making it a true all-rounder. 

With Dura for value and Feather for patch repairs, as well as the best-selling and award-winning Pro-Screed Gold, the Pro-Screed range can tackle all subfloor preparation requirements before laying an LVT floor. 

When it comes to the job of sticking down, floorwise distributors offer a host of branded adhesive solutions for the job.  With floorwise cartridge adhesives and sealants to help seal around the edges of LVT installations you can assured of right adhesive for the job. 

For click based installations, a suitable underlay beneath the LVT floor can help to combat worries about noise between floors or in the room. However, choose an underlay that’s too thick and the floor’s joints may well be compromised causing creaking, squeaking and eventual failure. The floorwise Acoustica range includes a variety of solutions that can help to improve sound quality while also supporting the floor. 

While much of the focus in ensuring a lasting installation occurring beneath the floor where efforts are never seen, there’s no doubt that what goes on top will make a statement about of the quality of workmanship and attention to detail elsewhere. Fortunately, with the recently updated Zenith and Max Reflections ranges, it’s easier than ever to achieve that fantastic finishing touch and the perfect match to door furniture, switches and sockets.  

Installers can now choose Reflections in the new Brushed Black and Brushed Space Grey finishes, alongside the existing Brushed Steel Nickel and Chrome. The extended Zenith range also includes Black and Space Grey, alongside the best-selling matt silver and matt gold finishes. Many profiles are also available in oak, dark walnut and grey oak wood effects. Both collections feature a wide range of task-specific profiles. 

In commercial projects such as offices, where LVT may be used in complex, curved layouts joining other flooring materials such as carpet tiles, floorwise range of flexible PVC provides more flexibility in transitioning from one area to another. Along with 22 colours, the range gives the ability to manage more transitions and effectively delineate areas using colours, or to match flooring more closely. 

With everything needed for a high-quality LVT installation from the subfloor to finishing, floorwise is the only name you need for the start of a fantastic floor.  

For further information on these and other great flooring products contact Floorwise on 01509 673974, visit www.floorwise.co.uk or email wiseup@floorwise.co.uk

[denimbex1986]

'Andrew Scott has arrived. Through his masculine charm and expressive eyes, Scott burns through the screen and etches himself in our psyche. He is the infamous eponymous anti-hero of Ripley, the petty thief who commits white-collar crimes and lives in a borderline flophouse in New York, yet makes us root for him.

Patricia Highsmith’s titular antihero is adapted into the Netflix eight-part series letting us into every crevice of his existence. The black-and-white, almost noirish adaptation of Netflix is scintillating. Beautiful cities with sprawling roads and breathtaking views are beautifully translated in greyscale.

The Netflix series is the first time the famous pulpy novel (Ripliad) has been adapted in this format. In 1999, Anthony Minghella adapted it into a film, The Talented Mr. Ripley where Matt Damon played Tom, Jude Law played Dickie, and Gwyneth Paltrow played the character of Marge.

Ripley is visually stunning

In a world of graphics and colour manipulations, Ripley is shot in stunning black and white by the cinematographer Robert Elswit. (who won an Oscar for There Will Be Blood) The cities shot through long alley shots and water ripple reflections create a sense of nostalgia and intrigue.

American alleyways and giant doors are captured with a sense of boast and Italian stairways to Roman waters are caught with reverence. The entire series is calming and thrilling at the same time. The audience is transported to a world of less chaos communicated impeccably through carefully orchestrated shots.

Sin and punishment in Ripley

No one is innocent in Ripley. From the conman to the aristocrat, all are guilty and the guilt is relayed through the screen. The serious eyes and the biblical references almost spell the conundrum of sin and punishment for the audience.

The easy references through dialogues and plot twists reinforce the underlying tension of sin and punishment. They give the series an almost biblical existence.

The lack of guilt

The petty crimes of diverting the mail and letters go almost unnoticed and unrepented. Tom Ripley is an interesting thief, he does not apologise for his actions or wile away in guilt. He commits the crimes with a sense of nonchalance.

He does not care that he is taking away, he claims it as his own. He moves with a sense of belongingness, like he owns a piece of what is best in the city and it must rightfully belong to him.

Ripley does not abide by any biblical right and wrong, and there is no justice. Tom Ripley comes, takes, kills, cleans, and then is hosted by the aristocrats. He does not apologise and we never feel the need for his guilt.

The “have” and “have not”s

From a conman living in a dreary dungeon with creaking pipes and leaking walls to a a man residing in rented palace with a private canal, Ripley makes the jump we can’t. He lives the dream of every outsider who craves to move in the high circles of Europe and wear “burgundy paisley silk dressing gowns”.

We don’t know much about Ripley, his home or his family. He is just one of us, a man who does not have and longs for all things nice. We see glimpses of his mother (maybe) screaming from the dentist’s chair. Is he an orphan looking for a family? Or just a conman looking for opportunities to move up the social ladder?

How do you climb up in the world of money? How do you snatch a place on the balcony overlooking the ocean? Tom Ripley cons to build his palace and we are with him throughout the journey.

Tom Ripley and identity theft

Ripley is shown forging cheques and pretending to be a finance company. He wins some and loses most but keeps at it. Stealing identity and camouflaging is his greatest gift, and he uses it to the best of his ability.

He lies smoothly, pretends naturally, and dodges all serious questions aimed at him. The peak of his talent is shown when Mr. Greenleaf hunts him down and proposes an adventurous expedition to Europe to bring back his estranged son.

Ripley accepts and sets on the journey with a dedication that seems unwavering. He quickly assimilates into Dickie’s life and starts living at his home. Marge (Dakota Fanning) smells something fishy, but is too late to reveal her doubts.

Ripley works his charm and when it fades, he kills. He kills and steals Dickie’s identity to establish himself as Richard Greenleaf, a signature he practices and practices until perfection.

Ripley kills whenever it gets inconvenient, and elopes. Travelling through cities, forging identities, and shifting between luxury and poverty become the norm for Ripley until he settles in a palace.

With a crystal ashtray and Picasso’s painting (that he chooses not to sell), Ripley establishes himself as a man of taste. His acquired demeanour suits him and we quickly root for him not to be caught. Inspector Ravini (Maurizio Lombardi) is an astute and honest policeman, but too simple to identify Ripley’s intentions.

The importance of art in the show

Art is a character in Ripley. From Picasso’s painting to the light, art inspires Ripley. Dickie has the privilege to drop everything and paint, while he is pitifully bad at it. Ripley is an emotive painter but he is never given the leisure to paint.

Marge is writing a photograph book, a picture travelogue on Atari, and Dickie’s money seems to be facilitating it. At many junctures, the jealousy between Tom and Marge is screamingly obvious. They almost act as the two wives of Dickie and amongst them, Tom wins with a thud and a toss.

They both contest for Dickie’s love, two have-nots craving for the rich man’s attention. Both are freed after Dickie’s death. Marge also goes on to professionally publish her photographs and finally comes out with her book at the very end. A dedication to Dickie on the first page with a picture of Dickie clicked by Marge reveals Ripley’s truth.

The light, always the light

At many junctures, we see Ripley visiting the church and carefully reading a painting. While the audience assumes momentarily that the guilt has pulled him to the church, Ripley has other plans.

On the brink of getting caught, Ripley decides to play with the light. The final act is when the inspector decides to visit him. Ripley recalls every detail from the painting and places the light in a direction that conceals more than it unveils. The art and the light become his co-conspirators and save him in the valour of his final act.

Through his moments of insanity reflecting in the water and through the pure genius holding the plot together, Ripley is a carefully adapted series. It is a perfect thriller for the connoisseurs of great cinema. It is always in the right amount.

Andrew Scott as Tom Ripley is enthralling. The way he emotes a conman’s expressions is just perfect. From his hair to his gestures to the coy lad buying a pair of swim trunks, Scott is a delight. It is him who makes it easier for the audience to root for a conman.

Ripley is a limited series that does not come often. The adaptation is spellbinding and must be watched by the people who crave some serious and scintillating thriller.

Before the inspector’s revelation, Ripley’s final act is when he tells the detective ‘Because he loved me…’ The grain of homoerotic spleen shining through Scott’s eyes while saying this ties all of the series together and makes it par brilliance.

Ripley is like fine wine; it is an acquired taste and must be savoured delicately. It cannot be gulped and wasted.'

[elisethetraveller]

"Very true." The mage concurred, the sharp glint in her eyes at odds with her warm smile. Despite her new role, Elise tried hard to maintain her friendly exterior. She still wore soft colours, though her stark white dress had been changed into a greyish cream that was less jarring on the eyes in the dark streets of Zaun. She still refused to part with her cloak and bag when out for extended periods, though. It was perhaps the eternal traveller in her who insisted on having the most important things on her at all times. Or maybe it was simply due to the nature of Zaun. One never knew when they would need bandages, antibiotics or a dagger.

"Though I will still say I wouldn't have managed it without the support around me." She could have, probably, but a foreign despot settling into a spot like this would hardly be tolerated, and more importantly, Elise had no interest in playing tyrant. There was already enough suffering in Zaun.

"Wonderful." The young woman's face lit up with a genuine smile as Silco accepted her invitation for a tour. She took great pride in her work, not just for the help it provided but also for the craft itself. Blood magic was more common in this world than most she visited, which was to say she had found records of its existence. However, Elise had yet to see evidence that it was used as she had been taught. She guided Silco towards the door with a hand motion before stepping in front, perhaps carelessly putting her back to the other chembaron. "Yes, though I doubt our work will run away while we are here. But one could always hope."

The white-haired woman guided Silco down a hallway away from the entrance, its walls decorated with woodcarvings of trees, petals and flowers in bloom. A turn to the right and through a doorway which no longer housed a door brought them behind the scenes into what had been staffing corridors, the wall here barren and grey. Another turn right then left, and the true labyrinthian size of the house began to unravel itself.

"Through here, we attend to most patients who seek our help for immediate injuries." The mage gestured towards a closed door, a one-way window in the shape of a cloud, no doubt camouflaged from the other side, through which a series of beds and chairs paid host to a small army of people. Even through the door, the sounds of crying, talking, and general noise were obvious, as was the smell of blood.

"When we have the resources for it, we try to make sure every new person who comes through our doors leaves with a tetanus shot, but…" The mage sighed, shoulders sagging as if that explained it all. Leading Silco further, she guided her guest past a maternity ward, a quarter for those on long-term bed rest, and a heavy set of double doors. Knocking on the heavy wood, the sound of reinforced metal ran hollow.

"And here we have our laboratory. It is still in development, so I am afraid nothing exciting is going on in there, but hopefully, we will improve our capacity for creating medicine soon." She had a private laboratory, of course, but in all honesty, it looked more like a mage's study than a scientist's, and Elise wasn't that interested in getting visitors. "And… I think that concludes our tour."

For a moment, Silco considered ignoring Elise’s hand, but took it, giving a confident handshake. No need to try to play games as though attempting to crush her hand, he didn’t need to do such things. If he truly wanted to crush something, or someone, it would be done. “Not everyone can both see such a spot, and manage to step up into it.” A simple statement of fact. It was one of the reasons Elise had arisen his curiosity. Along with the fact that a natural reservoir of water was in her territory. If he was perfectly honest, a part of Silco was irritated by the fact that someone not of and from Zaun controlled that water. However, with the industries that would use it still rising up and thriving as best they could in Zaun, Silco decided to keep that irritation in check. For now.

The faintest little chuckle escaped from Silco hearing of assassination attempts, and he nodded in understanding. “Easier on everyone for such things to be concentrated at one person.” A pity Jinx wasn’t currently available. She was always very good at stepping up to deal with individual people. Not that Silco saw a reason, yet, to “deal with” Elise. He hadn’t gotten to where he was by simply killing every single newcomer. Some needed to be handled, yes, but not all.

Silco, also, did not believe for a moment that was the main reason Elise was around.

No one took a spot in Zaun the way she had, simply by offering a target.

“I would appreciate a tour, yes.” In truth, Silco would indeed rather get a look at the “hospital” than to simply sip tea and chat. As much as, by Zaun standards, he could play the polite gentleman and engage in a verbal dance back and forth, it wasn’t actually what he preferred. “I am curious just how you’ve changed things here.” Both how she’d changed things, and if it was enough space, as well as how many people were actually being helped.

“Besides, seems faster to show than to tell, and I expect we are both busy people.”

[thrillridesz]

win a date with kim doyoung! ▫ k.dy

in part of the resonance beach collab hosted by @amorajae​

➩ pairing: actor!doyoung x reader (f)

➩ genre: fluff, slight angst

➩ synopsis: win a date with kim doyoung! what are you waiting for? simply purchase any of the merchandise listed on our website in order to buy yourself an entry number into our raffle to win a date with the handsome kim doyoung (kim sangkyun in ‘letters to him’) at the world famous resonance beach. hurry while merchandise stock (and raffle entries) lasts!

➩ warnings: sexual innuendos, swearing

➩ inspo: win a date with tad hamilton!

➩ word count: 12.6k

➩ fic playlist: Down - A.C.E ft Grey | Thrill Ride - The Boyz | Only ONE - The Boyz | I Think I’m In Love - Kat Dahlia |  | Highway to Heaven - NCT 127 | Style - Taylor Swift | Summer - Marshmello

➩ a/n: unedited! also featuring @fuzzycurlyhairmixedmediascissors​ @timextoxhajima​ (thank you guys for being some of my most beloved mutuals here! I know I don’t say it enough but I really appreciate you guys!) + i haven't written in a while so yes, please go easy haha, feedback is always welcomed!

“You’re kidding. You’re actually kidding.”

The four of you were a comical sight to behold, squished into a tiny corner behind the main counter as you all stared wide-eyed at the webpage in front of you, the unnatural light illuminating your faces. A few patrons peered curiously at your group as they browsed through shelves of books, wondering to themselves what could be so eye-catching or important for all members of the staff to forgo their duties and cram uncomfortably close together to gawk at a tiny computer screen.

“Win a date with Kim freaking Doyoung? Like the actor?” Renjun swallowed, his eyes wild. His knuckles were nearly white from gripping on so tightly to the countertop and you briefly wondered if it was possible he might actually manage to cut off circulation to his hands if he held on any longer or if he might chip off a part of the wood instead. Maybe both. You could feel your hands growing clammy as you scrolled down the page, your heart pounding against your chest so loudly that you were almost sure that the rest crowding above you could hear it.

“Is this a scam? Are they actually offering a date with Kim Doyoung?” Alex’s question came out as a mere whisper, like she couldn’t quite believe this was real and frankly, neither could you but everything about the details of the raffle to the terms and conditions listed further reinforced its legitimacy. A girl who was eavesdropping into your conversation had also whipped out her phone, tuning into the entertainment news. Her subsequent loud gasp only served to confirm that this was indeed reality.

The award-winning actor, Kim Doyoung, who nobody in a million years would ever guess to do this, was actually offering one lucky fan a chance to go on a date with him.

Not just any date at that, the date was supposed to be at the up and coming tourist destination, Resonance beach and would include a complimentary one day and two night stay at the world famous, glamorous Neo Hotel. According to the details, all expenses would be paid for with benefits that included a first class flight and a box of Booze Soda, one of the main sponsors for this event. A quick search on social media already shows fans all over the world talking about it, many already buying his albums and fan merchandise in bulk in an attempt to increase their chances of winning.

“Seems like they really are. It’s endorsed by his company,” Dana said, squinting at the screen before shaking her head in disapproval. “This just seems to me like they’re trying to squeeze more money out of the fanbase, pretty fucking shady of them.”

She stalked away to the fiction section where she would no doubt be reading instead of doing any actual shelving as your eyebrows knitted together into a slight frown, your hand hovering tentatively over the computer mouse. Renjun patted you on the shoulder before tending to a rather disgruntled looking old man who had been waiting for someone to service him for the past five minutes while Alex only leaned in closer.

“Are you going for it?” She asked.

“I wish I could but…” You gestured vaguely at the screen, “It’s no use. I barely even have the money to spare to buy one of those expensive merchandise, let alone in bulk and we haven’t even gotten to shipping yet.” Pushing yourself away from the desk, you got to work picking up a large box of new arrivals while Alex trailed behind you.

“You have to try somehow! Even if it’s one overpriced enamel pin, you can at least have your name entered once instead of not applying at all.”

You could only smile wistfully as you weaved through the aisles of books in the tiny bookshop. Having grown up with a passion for reading, it felt natural for you to seek a part time job working around books. Even if it paid a pittance, you loved the environment here, looking forward to coming to work every other day. Not only were you spending time around books which were your number one vice, you have made like-minded and equally bookish friends along the way who you enjoy working with. The customers at bookshops were also eccentric in their own way and delightful to just get to know over the past year you’d been working here.

Being in the bookshop always did comfort you whenever you were upset, dismayed or just feeling down, such as today. In a way, you felt grateful that you found out about the event during work and not in school or at home. You wouldn’t have had your job and all these books to help distract you from the bitter feeling of being too broke to even try to apply for such a rare opportunity for a date with the one and only Kim Doyoung.

You sighed with a heavy heart as you slotted book after book into a shelf at the crime section.

Kim Doyoung, A-list actor and just the most talented man alive. You have been a fan of his for the longest time, ever since he played the suave and flirtatious pastry chef Kang Hyun in the popular romantic comedy series ‘Sugar and Spice’. The first time you saw him on television, his acting and dashing good looks had completely charmed you. The way he carried himself, the way his eyes sparkled whenever he delivered the most heart fluttering lines and the way his voice always sounded so rough yet warm even when playing the most evil villains never failed to bring a smile to your face or a shiver of fear down your spine.

A lot of people would agree that Doyoung is a stellar example of an ideal man. He was a man who could act, talk and had a heart of gold, seeing from his participation in multiple philanthropy projects and his donations and services to several charities and orphanages. Doyoung also had one of the most attractive, handsomest faces in the industry, gracing magazine covers everywhere. His dark, silky ebony hair always looked immaculate and he had the most expressive eyes you’d ever seen. Those dark orbs could be shining with tears and agony one minute and bright with joy and youthful mischief in the next and those emotions written so plainly in his eyes always struck you right to your core as you watched his films and shows.

As you tried to bury your own disappointment by preoccupying yourself with the task at hand, you couldn’t help but fervently wish that somehow you’d be able to apply and win that coveted date with Kim Doyoung even if it may seem impossible.

☀️-☀️-☀️

“You can’t do this to me. This is insane.”

The men in the room turned sharply towards Doyoung, whose face held a look of mere indifference and indignation. He had his arms folded firmly across his chest as he leaned back into his feet, his eyes dark and defiant.

The tension in the room was so thick, you could slice it with a knife. The off-white, minimalist design of the skyscraper office with its almost four walls of glass only made the whole situation seem all the more intimidating and cold as he engaged in a face off with the men across the table, the sun casting shadows on his face which made him look almost scary.

Finally, Taeil, his manager let out an exasperated grunt as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“Doyoung, this isn’t about you anymore. It’s about the goddamn company going bankrupt. We have no other choice-”

“So you decided to just go ahead and put me up for something like that? Like I’m some kind of object to be won? What are you, pimping me?” He interjected, the anger radiating off him. His jaw was set, clenched and his hands balled into fists like he always did when he got mad at something and the men in the room shifted uncomfortably. “You couldn’t find a better idea?”

“If we did, we wouldn’t be doing this now, would we?” Taeil snapped, irritated.

“There has to be some other way! I’m not an object to be won.”

“Look,” Xiaojun, the publicity head’s voice was soft, unusually gentle, like he was talking to an unreasonable, brutish child, “it’s just a date. We’re not asking you to marry for god’s sake so don’t be dramatic. Surely you can do this for the company? Just this once?”

Doyoung’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

“No.”

“I told you he wasn’t going to do it.” Taeil said, rubbing at his temple to a shrinking Xiaojun who seemed to be growing smaller by the second. “We really fucked up this time.”

Doyoung shot him a sharp look.

“Why’s that?”

Taeil and Xiaojun exchanged an uncomfortable look as they shifted on their feet, looking anywhere and everywhere but him. Doyoung could feel his blood turning cold as he gripped on tightly to the arm of his chair. His words came out restrained as he gritted out, “What did you guys do?”

Taeil’s face was red with shame as he spoke in a small voice, his voice softer than a mouse.

“We um… We already got the sponsors for it and it’s already up and running.”

☀️-☀️-☀️

The sun was beating relentlessly down on your back as you pedaled along the streets, your backpack stuffed into the front basket of your bicycle.

It is a particularly hot summer’s day, so hot you could almost see the heat waves radiating in the horizon. A bead of sweat rolled down your temple and you wiped it off with a frown, feeling disgusted at how much you were sweating. It was as if someone had hosed you down. Well, maybe not that bad but still bad enough seeing as the back of your shirt would most positively be soaked by now.

As much as you loved working at the bookshop, you certainly didn’t love the journey there. During the summer when it gets too hot, the journey would usually leave you sweaty and icky by the time you arrived. During the winter when it gets too cold, you’re left freezing instead. There really aren't any two ways about it but it’s one of those things you were willing to tolerate for your job.

By the time you’d reported for work, you were predictably drenched in your own sweat and as you wandered in, you couldn’t help but bask in the cool air-conditioned environment of the store. It felt like heaven after enduring the intense heat outside and you almost let a guttural sigh out loud.

“You need a shower,” Renjun commented as you dropped your things off in the backroom, wrinkling his nose. The apron around his waist crinkled as he shifted, the precariously tall stack of books in his hands wobbling. The bookshop was relatively quiet today, seeing as most people were either off on their summer holiday or staying in the comfort of their own homes to escape the suffocating heat.

“As do you,” you rolled your eyes and he laughed. “Seriously, the weather is getting crazier by the year.”

“No kidding, I thought I’d drown in my own sweat before I even made it here.”

“That’s gross,” you stuck out your tongue in disgust while you tied on your apron. “Where’s Dana and Alex?” You took your place behind the till and drew out a black notebook from the file cabinet, doing your usual task of checking the store’s accounts. You didn’t notice the barely concealed look of excitement and anticipation in Renjun's face as you pored over the numbers, briefly glancing through them.

“Oh, they are… Somewhere.”

You looked up, eyebrows raised.

“What kind of an answer is that?”

He shrugged and it was a miracle the books he was holding onto didn’t topple over. You regarded him with mild curiosity but decided you weren’t going to question him any further. You had more pressing issues at hand like the accounts. As he wobbled off with the books, you booted up the store’s computer and flexed your fingers, getting ready to get to work with the calculations and organising of financial sheets.

The moment the computer screen crackled to life, you were immediately greeted with the words ‘Win a date with Kim Doyoung!’ in big, bold letters. The webpage was designed to look bright and celebratory but you were feeling anything but. Your grip on the computer mouse tightened as you stared at the words that seemed to taunt you, mock you. You wanted so badly to apply even just once but deep down, you knew you wouldn’t stand a chance against the large Kim Doyoung fanbase.

On social media and fansites, there was already a good number of fans posting pictures of their bulk purchases of merchandise, each buy equating to one entry into the raffle. Even if you were to enter your name in once, there was no way you were going to win anyways. Not when you’re up against fans who have tens and hundreds of entries in the raffle.

Reluctantly, you closed the window and settled down to the boring task of accounting for the shop’s sales. For the next few minutes, the thought of splurging this once on an entry for the event crossed your mind more times than you’d have liked as you punched in digits into the calculator. At one point, you even had to redo some of the accounts because of a wrong digit keyed in and you were starting to find it seriously hard to concentrate. Your pen was tapping impatiently on the table and eventually, you found that your fingers were moving on their own accord.

The event webpage showed up again and the temptation to just apply was stronger than ever even though you knew that the chances of you winning would probably be next to none.

“But, what if I just… Try?” A voice whispered at the back of your mind and you bit your bottom lip in frustration. You wanted so badly to apply but it was so expensive to do so. Buying even just a sticker set from the Kim Doyoung merchandise shop would wipe out a good part of your savings because of the exorbitant shipping costs. Were you really willing to fork out so much money just to apply?

Fortunately, your exhausting train of thought was interrupted when the door swung open and Dana and Alex entered the store with a parcel between them.

“This is for you,” Dana handed you the parcel with a knowing grin on her face and you frowned as you received it with both hands. “Open it.”

“What’s this?” You asked, picking apart the paper wrapping and when you finally realised what it was, your eyes widened till they were as large as saucers.

“Y-You guys…” You looked up to see your friends’ smiling faces despite the fatigue displayed so plainly on their faces and the sweat that lined their brows. Lifting up the porcelain mug gingerly by the handle, it took a lot of your energy not to burst out in incomprehensible squeals.

On the white surface, there was a intricately printed quote of one of Doyoung’s famous lines in the hit romantic movie, ‘Letters to him’, where he’d played the soft spoken, shy photographer heartthrob Kim Sangkyun alongside the stunning actress Im Sokyeom who’d portrayed his feisty, fiery journalist love interest Park Mihyo.

The quote was written in gold ink and in elegant calligraphy, sophisticated but not tacky. You still distinctly remember when you heard it.

“Sangkyun? What are you doing here?” Mihyo’s eyes were wide with shock, her lips slightly parted as the words came out in a gasp.

“I…” The bespectacled, red-faced photographer who clearly lacked stamina clutched at his now throbbing abdomen as he panted for air, “I needed to see you.”

His usually immaculate hair was a mess and his shirt clung to his sweaty body, so perfectly outlining the definition of those broad shoulders that reminded Mihyo of that stormy night at the secluded inn, that same silhouette overshadowing her as he leaned in to kiss her passionately. She tried to ignore the shiver that ran down her spine, the tiny skip her heart did as she looked back at him with an expressionless gaze.

“I don’t think that would be necessary.”

The pain that shone in those eyes behind those thickset glasses made her heart clench. Sangkyun’s lower lip quivered as he said softly, “Please, Mihyo.”

“Look, we-”

“‘You are my home, my safe haven and in no reality, would I ever wish to be apart from you,’” he said, his voice firm yet so full of emotion. There was an almost defiant look on his face as Mihyo dropped the coffee she was holding in her hands. Even as the liquid splattered all over her boots and stained them, she didn’t care.

“You… It was you who wrote that letter?” She asked, trembling now as her heart beat a mile a minute. This couldn’t be right, it didn’t make sense. Didn’t Jaehwan write it? Jaehwan who had told her so many times that he had poured all his feelings out into that single handwritten letter addressed to her all those years ago, who had whispered fleeting, heart fluttering sweet nothings in her ear as she consequently ‘accepted’ his feelings?

“Yes, I was the one who wrote it.” Sangkyun avowed, tears now streaming endlessly down his cheeks. “I have always loved you, Mihyo. All these years.”

Your heart still swoons at that very scene whenever you rewatch it and it has gotten to the point where you’d been able to recite the entire dialogue word for word. It was a rather embarrassing and useless talent but one you were still secretly proud of. A mug with a printed quote from one of your favourite drama scenes was a great present, better than any you could have ever asked for from your friends but a coveted chance to win a whole date with your idol, Kim Doyoung?

There were no words to describe how grateful you were.

“Thank you for this, you guys. Thank you so, so, so much,” you choke out as you pull them in for a tight hug, burying your face into Alex’s sweater. “This is the best gift you guys could have given me. I love it.”

Dana chuckles, ruffling your hair. “It’s nothing much, we just thought you deserved it.” Alex murmurs her agreement as she pats you gently on the back and Renjun shoots you a toothy grin. How did you get so lucky with friends like that?

Just then, the radio that had been very softly playing in the background caught your attention. It was tuned into a popular youth entertainment radio channel and you could vaguely hear the ongoing show’s hosts speak animatedly to millions of listeners all over the world. Today, ‘Celeb Insiders’ was on air and its hosts, Jungwoo and Krystal’s excitement seemed to be buzzing right through from their studio.

“Next on- Wait, I’m getting some exciting news here! The ‘Win a date event that has sent millions into shambles involving Kim Doyoung, who most of you may know better as the handsome, deadly Kang Joon in ‘Out for blood’ or perhaps as the charming, doting Kim Sangkyun in ‘Letters to him’, has got some updates!”

“Wait, really? Thank god, I was starting to wonder if my application got lost somehow.”

“Krystal, you applied?” Jungwoo’s tone was one of surprise and the latter laughed, her voice ringing through the studio.

“Duh, it’s Kim Doyoung. Who wouldn’t want to go on a date with a man like that? He is the standard,” she replies matter-of-factly.

“Ouch, I am not hurt as a fellow member of the male species. Anyways, we’re just getting news that the lucky fan has been revealed!”

“Please let it be me.”

“It’s not going to be you.”

“You don’t know that yet.”

“Well, I do now! Seems like it is your lucky day, entry number 148275, whoever you are because you have just won a date with the man himself, Kim Doyoung!”

“Whoever it is, lucky them,” you sighed, smiling softly and not noticing how still your friends have become. It seemed as if they were almost frozen and it took you a good few seconds to realise they hadn’t moved. “Guys?”

Alex turned to you, her eyes wide as saucers and her mouth hanging open.

“That’s your entry number, y/n.”

☀️-☀️-☀️

Doyoung wanted nothing more than to be out of this situation that he had found himself in.

Gritting his teeth as the personal stylist circled around him and tutted under his breath for the nth time, he could see his expression in the mirror getting darker by the minute. There were dark circles starting to form under his eyes, no thanks to jet lag and a lack of sleep following the dreaded date that he had wanted no part in and his limbs were starting to cramp from standing for so long. The personal stylist, whose name he’d learned was Johnny, was clearly taking his own sweet time with no regards whatsoever to the fate of his numb legs.

“How much longer?” He asked, plastering a gentle smile onto his face, like he’d done so many times in and out of movie sets. Johnny peered at him from over his gold-rimmed glasses and shrugged nonchalantly in a way that meant he had no qualms of speeding up. Doyoung resisted the urge to deck him.

“I don’t know. I’ve got so many ideas and most of them don’t fit you all that well. Somehow, you are putting some sort of invisible dent on my creative energy. It’s really not very productive.”

Doyoung stared at him, expressionless. How was any of this supposed to be his fault? He opened his mouth to retort but thought better of it and kept silent, letting his annoyance simmer. As much as this whole situation was maddening, starting a fight with anyone wouldn’t be good. Not even Johnny, the annoying, fickle personal stylist. He couldn’t risk it not just for his reputation, but also for his tired self.

He was too tired to have to deal with anything more than he’d been given right now.

As much as Doyoung appreciated his manager and management team, they had a knack for doing things without first telling him. Granted, other celebrities had pulled a similar stunt before including his rivals but it never occurred to him that one day, he would be doing the same. It was something he’d never have agreed to. Willingly.

After what felt like ages and hundreds of suits and tuxedos, Johnny the personal stylist had eventually decided on an outfit that Doyoung had remembered being one of the first few he’d been asked to try on. He tried not to think about the hours of sleep he’d missed out on or possible time he could have had to escape as he wandered out of the shop, disoriented by the now dark sky outside.

He must have been in there longer than he’d imagined.

As Doyoung made his way back to his hotel, he couldn’t help but feel an odd sense of tranquility. The night breeze was cool and carried with it the scent of the ocean, a welcomed change from the smell of vehicle fumes in the big city. Twinkling stars dotted the skies and nature was everywhere - from the palm trees along the streets, the sandy beaches, to the rolling hills from a distance away. Small businesses were thriving on this beach island, selling things that would never sell well where he came from like handmade seashell necklaces or indigenous rocks and it was heartening to see how the locals were so… happy.

The streets were by no means quiet and here at the island where the world famous Resonance beach resort had very strategically chosen to settle in, the place was teeming with tourists from all over the world. They chatted, ate and laughed as they strolled along the streets in their sundresses and khaki shorts, enjoyed delicious seafood meals with drinks in the many bistros and restaurants and did basic tourist things. Everyone was in their own world, just enjoying being on holiday and it was this engrossment in their own world that Doyoung appreciated and valued.

If there was any silver lining to this whole thing, this would be it.

Here, he could roam the island without wearing his almost mandatory and necessary cap, sunglasses or face mask since no one would pay him any attention. He could wander about freely, do anything he wanted. Doyoung couldn’t remember a time where he’d had such freedom. It felt like a long time ago when he had just been an aspiring young teenager with ambitions greater than he had eventually realised he could handle. Sure, a few curious glances were shot his way every now and then but for the most part, people knew their boundaries which couldn’t be said for the same back home.

With fame, came its price.

As a relatively attractive actor whose company somehow always tries to book for romance films or drama series, it didn’t take long for his fanbase to grow and expand, for the ‘thirst tweets’ to start streaming in or for the obsessive fan stories he’d heard so much about from his seniors to start happening to him as well.

His jaw ticked as he recalled how a crazed fan had once accosted him at the supermarket once. The kid had stalked him all around the place, grabbing whatever he did and it’d creeped him out. There was once he had made a mistake of replying to a fan’s tweet of a drama he had starred in, only to get bombarded by hundreds and thousands of replies, private messages and a blooming rumour that thankfully, had been quickly nipped in the bud before it could get out of control.

Doyoung adored his fans, he really did. There were the sweet ones who would write letters to him voicing their admiration for his talents and those who really supported his craft but there were also tons of them who he’d think twice before interacting with. He tried to not to think which of these two categories the fan he would be spending his time here in this island would classify under.

It was close to 10 when he’d made it back to the Neo hotel, a sprawling resort with some of the most beautiful, intricate architecture he ever had the privilege of staying in. The lobby itself was grand, with a huge crystal chandelier hanging from above and a smooth marble floor inlay a very detailed drawing of the island itself made up entirely of rare gems and rocks. Everything about the place screamed classy and luxurious, it was thus no surprise that this hotel was listed as one of the world’s best.

As Doyoung waited for the elevator, he noticed from the corner of his eye that two ladies were lingering nearby, staring at him and giggling to one another. Out of reflex, he shot them a polite smile to which one of them jumped. They were dressed in formal attire with name tags, there was no doubt they’d work here at the hotel.

He watched as the number on the elevator crawled downwards, wishing it’d hurry up. He could feel his eyelids slipping shut and his limbs were beginning to feel like lead and there was nothing more that he wanted than to hop into bed. Suddenly, he felt someone tapping his back.

Swivelling around, Doyoung turned to look at the ladies from earlier. Their cheeks were tinted red with nervousness and even he could feel their apprehension. Despite his fatigue, he grinned down at them.

“Can I help you?”

The shorter of the two, a pretty brunette with a pert little nose squeaked in response but her friend was much bolder.

“Are you Kim Doyoung?”

“Yes, I am. How can I help?” The smile was frozen on his face. The elevator arrived with a ding.

“We love your movies and works, my friend Yujeong and I, Winter.” She beamed and her friend nodded enthusiastically. The elevator door opened and the few curious onlookers wandered in. Doyoung relaxed, his smile growing slightly wider.

“Ah, thank you so much. That means a lot to me.” The ladies giggled and the one called Yujeong continued, blushing profusely, “You look so unbelievably handsome in real life. Better than on television.”

Doyoung stiffened. “That is very kind of you to say.”

“You were in that romcom right? ‘Fight or flight’ or something?” Winter interjected, excitement radiating off her. Before Doyoung could reply, she went off, biting her lips ever so slightly in a way that was supposedly meant to be seductive, “You looked really hot there. Did you have to diet and gym a lot to look that way? Honestly, you caught my eye for a great part of the movie.”

The elevator door was beginning to close. Doyoung wanted so fervently to make a dash for it.

“Thanks. Yeah, I did.”

“There was that drama you acted in too right? ‘Letters to you’? I remember you as that really handsome reporter Kim Sanghyun.” Yujeong asked, her eyes big with wonder. “You looked super cute there, I thought the glasses were a nice touch.”

“I…” Doyoung trailed off, his smile beginning to slip from his face and it was getting harder to keep it there by the millisecond. “Thanks.”

“Could we take a picture?”

I’m tired.

“Yeah, sure.”

By the time Doyoung had stumbled into his room, showered and ordered room service, it was already nearing midnight. Clad in only a pair of his most comfortable gray sweats, he climbed into bed and sunk into the soft sheets, a subconscious moan escaping his lips at the sheer comfort of it. The television was on but it was all but white noise as he scrolled through his phone and checked on the unread messages that he had that day.

( 3 unread messages from Sokyeom (Work) )

hey doyoungie, wanna grab dinner sometime? :))

i’ve been kinda lonely and i’m not filming these days so i was thinking if we should go get a drink or something?

you playing hard to get? you are such a tease~ ;0

Doyoung’s lips pressed into a thin line as his thumb hovered above the keyboard. She needed to stop calling him that. He had also yet to answer her insistent invitations for dinner. He’d given up after the third rejection and promptly let everything go to voicemail or simply his inbox. For a person who plays a very bright, intelligent journalist onscreen, the actress certainly cannot read a hint.

Tossing his phone aside, Doyoung held his forearm to his head as he stared up at the ceiling above him. He tried his best not to ponder over tomorrow’s meeting with his fan. He had never seen this fan, never been provided a visual reference as to how he or she might look like. Taeil had ensured that, wanting instead to keep an element of surprise.

Doyoung sighed deeply, feeling a wave of resignation, sadness and helplessness engulf him and tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach and the way his heart feels so tight and empty like it has always had for the longest time.

He found he cannot recall the last time he’d ever truly felt like himself. It seemed as if he was nothing if not for his looks.

☀️-☀️-☀️

Your heart was beating furiously and your hands were almost trembling as you checked your own reflection on the mirror for what seemed like the thousandth time.

The light pearl eyeshadow you had very shakily applied still seemed a tad too faded under the light even though it felt like you had an ungodly number of layers on already and you sighed, both in frustration and nervousness. Your hair was sticking out all over the place, with a particular stray lock of hair that kept escaping the bun you’d swept your hair up in while you pondered over the decision to put on a jasmine scented perfume earlier. Was that a good idea or should you have instead gone with the citrus one that Dana and Alex recommended?

You fell helplessly back onto the luxurious comforter. The softness of the bed still felt new, foreign and was a strange yet welcomed change from the lumpy mattress you had back home. On a bed like this, you could fall asleep straight away but the nerves for the impending dinner tonight kept you alert. Heavens, sometimes you wondered if you were already asleep and this whole experience was just a hyper realistic lucid dream you were having.

The past few days had passed by in a complete blur.

First came the media. Within hours after the announcement of the lucky fan who’d won the much coveted date with Kim Doyoung, gossip columns and entertainment reporters had somehow managed to locate and consequently flooded your email with requests for interviews. It was all over the radio and news sites and before long, everyone in your family including your school had found out.

Questions after questions were directed to you, too many to keep up with and some of which you didn’t even have the answers to. It was like your life had been turned upside down within a matter of mere hours, being thrust into the spotlight all of a sudden, unprepared and thoroughly confused.

What made the entire situation feel even more absurd was when you’d received the online confirmation email for your first class flight ticket and all expenses paid for trip details to Resonance Beach. The email was very lavishly furnished with fancy lettering and a short video attached, showcasing an extremely enticing display of Resonance Beach from its golden shores and crystalline blue sea to the delicious local fare offered and bustling nightlife.

You won’t deny - you have had to pinch yourself several times before reality really sunk in.

Within a couple of days, you found yourself en route, thousands of feet in the air in a sleek aircraft. Not even in your wildest dreams would you have thought you would one day be served perfectly poached butter lobster and the sweetest, juiciest sparkling cider you’d ever had the privilege to taste on a italian leather airplane seat or be able to sit in front of a telescreen with every movie and film imaginable available for you to watch. It certainly made a very jarring contrast to your usual homemade cucumber sandwich for lunch, eaten in the confines of the stuffy bookstore or the limited television channels available back home, so limited nobody ever watches television anymore.

Everything felt utterly dreamlike, from the exceptional service on the first class flight you’d never have been able to afford to the complimentary limousine ride to your five star accommodation. Your suite itself was another thing to behold and you had been initially afraid to touch anything for fear of making even the tiniest scratch on the exquisite furniture.

Blowing a raspberry, you tried not to look at the time. You weren’t sure what time it was already but something told you that it was happening soon.

Your gut churned uncomfortably and you flipped over, screaming softly into the pillow. Excitement and fear intermingled was coursing through your veins and a shiver ran down your spine at the thought of seeing Doyoung soon. This was the actor you had always looked up to, whose works you have always thoroughly enjoyed and memorised almost every single line to. Just a week ago, he was an unreachable bright spark in the distant sky, so blindingly enchanting and bright, so far away that you’d never reach him and there was nothing you could do but stare in awe from afar. Yet now, he was going to be right before you, in the flesh.

You resisted the urge to pinch yourself again.

At that moment, there was a gentle knock on the huge, mahogany door of your suite.

☀️-☀️-☀️

Doyoung shifted uncomfortably as he stood waiting outside the imposing suite door.

The crisp jet black suit that Johnny had chosen for him fitted him perfectly and accentuated his slim, lean figure, the polished golden cufflinks glinting under the glow of the light along the hallway. The white dress shirt he wore under the ‘expensive, posh french velvet’ (or so he’d been told a little over fifty times by Johnny) black jacket was neatly ironed and a few buttons at the top had been left purposefully unbuttoned to expose his collarbone which he wasn’t sure he was entirely comfortable with.

His stylists had truly gone all out with this, Doyoung didn’t even think they had been so invested back when he attended his first Grand Bell Awards. His dark hair was perfectly coiffed and they had chosen for him a well fitting musky cologne for the occasion and they had even made sure to pay attention to his nails. The company must be doing financially worse than he’d thought.

Doyoung could hear a faint crash from inside the suite and he felt his heart grow heavier by the second. In a way, he felt like a lamb perfectly dressed for slaughter or perhaps to be less dramatic, he felt like an escort. He had seen how some buy hundreds of merchandise in order to win and he’d realised to his horror that some of these ‘fans’ had been regularly stalking him at certain points. He could only pray that whoever stood on the other side of the door was nothing like that.

He recalled how in his early days, his manager had forced him to pour alcohol and make merry with some of the older female shareholders of the company and a lump began to form on his throat.

“Please not that either,” he thought desperately.

Suddenly, the door opened with a click and for a moment, he found himself staring at no one in particular until his gaze drifted downwards to see a shy looking girl standing before him.

Oh, he was not expecting this.

She had the most beautiful pair of eyes he’d ever seen, bright and sparkling. There was something about that tugged at his heartstrings, drawing him deeper into their depths. Her lips were perfectly shaped, not too plump and her makeup, subtle and classy. The lilac blue dress she wore clung softly to her curves, accentuating but not in an overtly sexual but rather sensual way the outline of her lush body. Around her neck hung a tiny silver necklace, resting comfortably on her chest, shining under the light.

Realising quickly that he was staring, Doyoung cleared his throat.

“Hey, so you… um, you ready to go?”

The girl merely stared back at him, eyes wide and mouth slightly parted like in a trance. When she didn’t reply, he smiled awkwardly to which she cracked the slightest of the most charming smiles he’d ever seen. Doyoung tried to ignore the tingle in his heart.

“Right, I guess-”

“Yeah! Yeah, I-I am ready to go! L-L-Let’s go!” She suddenly blurted out, catching him off guard. Her face had gone a shade darker and she clapped her hand over her mouth, regret dawning upon her. Doyoung quickly smiled and said, “Great, let’s go then.”

☀️-☀️-☀️

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

You cursed yourself as you walked next to Doyoung. How did you already manage to make a fool of yourself? You’d seen the way his eyes had widened at your sudden, aggressive, uncouth outburst and it wouldn’t be a surprise to you if he thought you were weird. Your face felt hot, like it was burning but there was nothing you could do about it, nothing you could do to soothe the rapid beating of your heart except pray that you wouldn’t mess it up again.

As the two of you walked side by side, you could help but sneak a glance at him every now and then. He was tall, taller than you’d envisioned him to be. In person, there was still that unreachable, untouchable, regal vibe that he had and just by walking next to him, you almost felt as if you weren’t worthy to even be this near him. You could tell his clothes were branded, expensive but heavens, everything about him screamed expensive.

His cologne was also not overwhelming but rather nice. You had been on dates whereby the boys you were out with had put on an obscene amount of cologne that threatened to suffocate you and how you made out of the dates unscathed was always a mystery to you. Doyoung was a nice change.

As the two of you entered the lift, the awkwardness between the two of you became more apparent in the confined space. You played with your fingers as you stood next to him, turning ever so slightly to look at him. Sensing your gaze on him, he turned ever so slightly and a smile tugged at his lips.

You felt your heart flutter as you snapped your head back, face now positively burning. There it was, that charming smile you’d seen so many times on television. Yet somehow…

The fluttery feeling in your heart subsided. Maybe it was just a figment of your imagination but you thought you detected something guarded behind that smile. It was a beautiful one, stunning and heart achingly endearing but even as he did, the smile never did properly reach his eyes. They had held a certain invisible iciness to them that you didn’t quite know what to make off.

You shook the thought out of your mind, you were probably overthinking it out of nerves.

When the two of you stepped out of the hotel, there was a large, sleek black limousine waiting with a chauffeur who tipped his hat good naturedly at you, to which you returned with a slight nod of your own. Doyoung trotted ahead of you, pulling open the limousine door.

“After you?”

You thought your heart might burst. “Thank you,” you said shyly, making your way in.

As the limousine rolled off the curb and towards the restaurant that Doyoung’s company had booked for their dinner date, the ride was quiet save for the low rumbling of the limousine’s engine and the sounds of traffic and nightlife outside. You peered outside the window in wonder and awe at the hustle and bustle of the beach town. Vendors were selling everything from little beach trinkets to treats like coconut ice cream served in a coconut shell and friends and families on vacation were out, clad in sandals and romping around the place, laughing to one another. Lanterns painted with orange suns and blue waves were lit along the streets, lending the place an almost warm, otherworldly glow.

You wished Renjun, Alex and Dana would have come here with you. You knew that Renjun would have loved the musical culture here as the limousine drove past a young busker who was belting out an acoustic, banjo version of Lil Nas X’s ‘Old Town Road’. The numerous traditional sweet shops selling the most delectable sea salt candies and coconut toffees that the beach town was famous for would have thrilled Dana. Alex would have simply adored the street art that almost quite literally lit up the town, with its bold colours and intricate illustrations. You made a mental note to purchase some souvenirs if you could.

“So, your name is y/n?”

At Doyoung’s voice, you turned to him quickly and a feeling of sheepishness came over you. Suddenly, you became aware of just how close you two were seated in the vehicle.

“Yeah, how did you know?” You asked softly and Doyoung gave you a weird look. “My manager mentioned it to me.”

Right, of course.

Perhaps you should have just kept your mouth shut.

“How are you finding Resonance Beach so far?” he probed and it was impossible to not stay silent.

“It’s pretty,” your face lit up with a genuine smile despite your embarrassment, “It’s really picturesque and I’ve never been to a beach town like this. The culture here seems so rich, it’s amazing.”

Doyoung simply nodded in agreement, “It really is. Have you really never been to a beach town?”

“No, I’ve actually never been out of the country.”

“Oh,” a look of surprise flashes in his eyes, “I see… That’s great too. No place better than home, huh?” His shoulders were relaxed now, less stiff than they were before.

“I love where I come from but this place,” you gesture outside, “is beautiful too. I just wish Renjun, Alex and Dana could have been here.”

“...Who?”

“Oh! I’m so sorry, they’re my friends. We work at our town’s book shop together but we’ve all known each other since we were kids.” You beamed at him, not noticing the way he was staring at you. “Actually, I have them to thank for this, you know, being here in the first place?”

Doyoung couldn’t help but probe, “Why’s that?”

“This might sound really complicated but they were the ones who entered my name into that ‘win a…’” you trailed off and he nodded. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Well, yeah. They knew how much I really wanted to meet you - and it’s so crazy saying this since you’re right here next to me - so they got together and bought me an entry.”

He was silent for a moment before he replied, “I see. They sound like great friends.”

You agreed enthusiastically. “They are the best friends I could ever ask for! I love them so much.”

Doyoung wondered briefly when was the last time he’d ever felt that way about any of his friends. Since he had become famous, the texts and calls got less and less frequent until they’d completely disappeared. He missed them desperately but he knew deep down, they were now unsalvageable friendships, torn apart by too much distance. These days, the only friends he got were ones he also shared a working relationship with such as his co-stars in the films and series he’d been a part of.

There was something about you, a certain infectious energy to you that he couldn’t quite pinpoint but it was warm, inviting. While others had aggressively bought entry tickets to the raffle, you had won entirely out of sheer, dumb luck. What were the chances? Doyoung made a mental note to thank god for this gift presented to him. Maybe sitting through the whole date wouldn’t be that bad.

When the limousine finally arrived at the restaurant, you were dumbstruck to find yourself staring up at a magnificent looking place, furnished with the prettiest and most elegant rose vines on its walls and pillars. Outside the restaurant, there was a huge stone fountain that looked as if it was carved out by the gods themselves based on how beautiful it was and accompanied with it, was a sprawling garden full of beautiful tropical flowers and trees.

Soft jazz music floated out onto the veranda as the hostess at the door greeted the two of you with a big smile, ushering the two of you into the place. Inside, the place looked even more upscale with its vintage, late 1940s furniture which despite its old fashioned look, did not look even the least bit drabby rather it gave the place a very sophisticated look.

There was a warm glow provided by the many candles lit on the tables, arranged and furnished with tiny olive wreaths and as someone who’d never had a meal in a place as fancy and expensive as such, you did not feel the least bit intimidated or uncomfortable. If anything, the place felt particularly homely as were the staff who shot you friendly smiles as you passed them. There were other couples, families all dining in the restaurant but there wasn’t a lot of talking, only the same smooth jazz music played by a band on the mini stage to the right of the room.

As the two of you took your seats, you picked up the menu, letting your eyes sweep over the words.

“Have you decided what you would like to order?” Doyoung asked and you looked up at him, only to get a smattering of butterflies in your stomach, so intense you almost gasped.

From the dim lighting to the soft, orangey glow of the candle between the two of you, his eyes looked like they held the fiery flames themself, the ember burning brightly in those dark depths. The shadow casted highlighted his sharp features, from his defined jawline to his cheekbones, forming a beautiful chiaroscuro on his face. You could feel your heart doing flips beneath your chest and somehow, it started getting harder to articulate actual words so you just sat there, staring at him mutely.

“Y/n?” He frowned.

“I-I… Um, I…”

“Are you okay?” His expression morphed into one of concern and before you could stop yourself, you blurted out, “How do you look that good so effortlessly?”

He blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“I… I’m sorry, I don’t know where that came from. I-I just… You look even better in real life.” You mumbled under your breath, your face flaming at this point.

Stop talking, stop talking, stop talking. If there was an award for cringiest fan ever, you’d win hands down.

☀️-☀️-☀️

Doyoung tried not to let the smile he had on his face slip at your comment. He gripped tighter onto his menu, trying not to brood on the sense of disappointment that poked at him deep down.

Did you only like him for his appearance? Like everyone else?

“Maybe it’s just a genuine compliment,” a voice spoke softly at the back of his head but the dread that filled his heart made it difficult to put on a more natural smile than he was normally great at plastering on.

“Thank you,” he replied simply, wincing at the slight edge of his voice. Too much?

You inched back into your seat, looking deflated and a part of him wished he hadn’t been so cold or curt. The little pout as you stuck out your lower lip made you look even more adorable than you did before and he almost wanted to reach across to hold your hand but he held back.

That wouldn’t be professional behaviour.

“I don’t know what I’m going to get,” you said quietly, furrowing your brows as you chewed on your lower lip, assessing the menu. Doyoung tried not to let his gaze drift downwards.

“Really? I’ve seen stellar reviews for this place, we’re pretty spoiled for choice,” he flashed a grin, the ones he’d usually save for the cameras as he leaned in. He didn’t seem to notice the hitch in your breath as he did as he studied the menu with you.

“French bouillabaisse with a crispy baguette… What do you think?” He asked and you simply nodded dumbly, a blank look in your eyes. It occurred to him how close he’d leaned in as he found himself looking into your eyes and close enough to take a whiff of your perfume.

Jasmine. Subtle, gentle and sweet.

For a moment, he was stunned until a clatter of a fork nearby brought him back to reality and immediately, he withdrew, feeling embarrassed. As he did, it was as if a bubble had burst and you jolted slightly before looking up at him, eyes wide.

You opened your mouth to speak but before you could, a waiter appeared before your table, smiling warmly. “Good evening, my name is Jisung and I will be your server tonight. Are you guys ready to order?”

“Well, um, thank you” Doyoung cleared his throat which had suddenly seemed to close up on him. “I will have the uh, rock shrimp ravioli with truffle pasta and sautéed wild mushrooms.”

“Alright,” Jisung jotted down the order merrily before turning to you, “And for the lady?”

You stared at him like a deer in headlights. “I… I, um… I’ll just have the French bou… boey…”

“Bouillabaisse?” Jisung prompted, a serene smile still on his face.

“Y-Yeah…” you struggled to find the right words to say before mumbling, “... Sorry.”

“Can I get the two of you anything to drink?”

“We could try a Sauvignon Blanc-” Doyoung began about the same time as you said, “I think I’ll just have tap-”

The two of you looked at each other, unsure of what to say and uncomfortable at the awful timing. Thankfully, Jisung seemed to have been less than perturbed by the highly awkward exchange in front of him.

“Sorry miss, I’m afraid we don’t serve tap water here. We have only oxygenated water or sparkling. Would you like that? Or would you like to go ahead and order a Sauvignon Blanc, sir?”

Doyoung let his eyes linger at you for a moment before he turned to Jisung.

“I think we’ll just both have oxygenated water, thank you.”

“Coming right up.” With that, the two of you are left alone once again.

☀️-☀️-☀️

For a hot minute, neither of you attempted to make conversation as an unsettling silence befell the table. You were staring intently at the cutlery and plates before you, too scared to look up for fear of making yet another blunder or seeing the look on Doyoung’s face which would no doubt be one of disgust or worse, sympathy.

What were you thinking in the first place with tap water?

“So, do you have any favourite foods?” He asked suddenly and you looked up sharply to see him looking at you with interest, his hands interlaced in front of him. Clearly, the silence had probably been too much for him and deep down, you were relieved that he’d started talking first because you probably never would have the courage to.

“Hm, I do like a lot of foods,” you started, “But I love cucumber sandwiches and chocolate cake.”

He quirked an eyebrow questioningly, “Cucumber sandwiches huh?”

“Yeah, have you ever had them?”

He smiled tightly, “Ah, I don’t really like cucumbers. I do like pickles though.”

“Oh, why’s that?” Your eyes widened as you moved in closer.

It was one thing to not like cucumbers but to hate them while liking pickles? Your interest was piqued.

Doyoung’s eyes followed your movement and his shoulders stiffened as he replied, “U-Um, I don’t know honestly. I just like them? The sourness, the tanginess and the crunch is what makes it really enjoyable to me.”

You nodded thoughtfully and for a moment, the two of you sat again in awkward silence, neither of you knowing what to say exactly.

You could feel your heart racing as you toyed with your finger and as you took the chance to look around you, you couldn’t help but feel extremely out of place.

Everyone here looked as if they belonged, with their posh appearances and dignified ways unlike you. The clothes they wore looked like they’d cost an entire year of your salary from your part time job at the bookstore, with its expensive cutting and luxurious feel. The way they picked up their knife and fork felt like you were a peasant eating in a room full of royals. Even the way they talked made you feel uncomfortably distinguished from them and not in a good way.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you stared at your hands on your lap. Was it a mistake to come here after all?

☀️-☀️-☀️

She’s uncomfortable.

Doyoung thought as he watched you fidget ever so slightly. He could see your eyes darting around the restaurant as you seemed to shrink deeper into your seat, your shoulders caving in. In a way, your demeanor reminded him of a terrified kitten. Even after the food had arrived, the conversation between the two of you was mostly small talk with a heavy air of awkwardness. You’d picked at your food, not out of pickiness but rather out of genuine wonderment. With each bite you took, you would chew slowly, frowning slightly but that frown would always disappear whenever the two of you made eye contact.

“How’s the food?” He asked as he sipped at his water.

You looked up as if surprised, knife and fork in hand, tearing apart the squid on your plate. You shot him a smile that seemed slightly forced.

“I-It’s delicious.”

Doyoung didn’t know why but seeing you like this confused him, a sense of guilt and mild annoyance at himself tugging at his heart.

Did he make a mistake choosing such an upscale restaurant like this one? Whenever he brought his dates to places like these, they all seemed to love it so why didn’t you?

“Let’s go somewhere else.” He blurted out and you looked at him with wide eyes. “What?”

As he took another sip of his wine, he looked over to the entrance of the restaurant where he could see a small crowd of paparazzi gathered outside, no doubt waiting for the two of you to get out. He grimaced before he caught sight of a back door at the back of the restaurant.

Perfect.

Signalling for the waiter, he hurriedly paid for the check before he gestured for you to get up.

“We’re leaving.”

“Wait, what? B-But why?”

“It’s clear neither of us really like it here, so there’s no point staying, is it? We’re going somewhere else, somewhere better.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere. Except here.”

Maybe he’d imagined it but when he saw the brief look of relief that flashed in your eyes, he couldn’t help but feel a sort of lightness in his heart and a smile began to form on his lips.

But then when he reached out to hold your hand, Doyoung felt a jolt of electricity run through his body. Then there was warmth, a sort of gentle, encompassing warmth that made his heart leap and as he saw the beam on your face, he could feel his face heating up.

“Right, um, let’s go.”

When the two of you made it through the back door and away from the prying paparazzi, he realised he hadn’t felt this carefree and reckless in a long time.

☀️-☀️-☀️

The slight breeze in the air was tinged with just a touch of the scent of the salty seawater by the shore, a welcome from the stuffiness of the restaurant from earlier. Taking a deep breath, the both of you could hardly believe the sight that the two of you were greeted with.

The back door had opened to a glorious, secluded view of the night ocean, with the dark waters crashing gently in waves while the full moon and several sparkling stars hung in the navy sky. This was the quiet part of the beach that no one would have thought twice about in the morning but utterly transformed into a sort of breathtaking secret spot by the night.

Resonance beach was a sight to behold, yes but this was a different type of beauty it now possessed. In most stock photographs or pictures from travel pamphlets, the tourist destination was depicted as a sunny beach teeming with tourists, full of colour and summer fun. However, this was different.

In the moonlight, the golden sand seemed almost luminescent like individual grains of shiny, white gold. The sounds of the ocean waves gently crashing against the shore also gave a sort of calming aura to it and there was that strange feeling of being transported to another world entirely for this view and this vibe was so completely different to the glitz and glamour of the restaurant they had just escaped or the liveliness of a tourist destination.

It felt like walking into a universe with just the two of you through a magical backdoor. And the only reasonable thought that simultaneously crossed both of your minds was to run right towards it.

It felt like a sort of syncing of minds, an unspoken shared thought as you ran with Doyoung, his hand holding onto yours. Looking up, you could see that Doyoung was staring at something behind the two of you, his lips breaking into a wide grin that brought a certain lightness to his features. You turned back to see what he was looking at.You could see the paparazzi bursting through the backdoor, their expressions a mix of confusion and frustration as their eyes searched the area for the two of you, too preoccupied to even begin appreciating the beauty of the night view.

You felt a laugh begin to bubble up in your chest. There was something so lawless and liberating about this and as you did, you could sense Doyoung’s eyes on you. You shifted your gaze to meet his and it was like time stood still as the two of you locked eyes. For a moment, it felt like just the two of you existed in this world, running together endlessly but never feeling tired towards something that had something greater in store for the both of you.

☀️-☀️-☀️

It wasn’t long before the two of you finally settled at a distant, secluded part of the beach. Here, it was quiet and serene, a perfect hideout far from prying eyes.

As the two of you tried to catch your breaths, Doyoung noticed that his shirt had become rumpled and wrinkled in the run and one of the buttons of his shirt had even dropped off in the process. A thin sheen of sweat covered his temple and brusquely, he ran a hand through his hair which was no longer as kempt as it was.

God, that felt great. But what about y/n? Is she alright?

Doyoung turned to you, with the question at the tip of his tongue but when his sights landed on you, it felt as if the wind had been knocked right out of him.

Under the silvery lighting, you seemed almost ethereal. The dress you were wearing was pressed against your frame as it flapped around your ankles in the night breeze, the blue almost glowing in the dimness. Your hair had come undone as well and the loose strands were framing your face in a way that only made you seem more enchanting than before. Your eyes reflected the starry night sky, sparkling with such brightness that Doyoung felt a tightening feeling in his chest.

“Doyoung?”

He blinked as he suddenly became aware of the sound of your voice calling out to him. Swallowing, he tried to ignore the manic pounding in his chest as he smiled shakily at you, trying to stay composed.

“You okay?”

You smiled and he felt his heart skip a beat, “Yeah, I just… I just need to catch some air.”

Once the two of you had come down from your runners’ high with a bottle of water each from a nearby vendor, the two of you settled on the shore near the water, both pairs of shoes placed a distance away as the both of you dipped your toes into the cold seawater.

“So why did you do this?” You asked while the two of you stared out into the ocean horizon.

“Do what?”

“This,” you gestured vaguely, “whole ‘win a date’ thing.”

Doyoung chuckled, feeling amused at your question yet strangely relieved, “I don’t seem like the type to do this?”

“Well… Yes,” you said but quickly added, a flustered look on your face, “It’s not a bad thing! It just… it doesn’t seem like your style to do stuff like that. I mean, I know you appreciate your fans but-”

He held up a hand, holding back a laugh. “Don’t worry, I get it.”

“You do?” You tilted your head, looking at him quizzically.

How cute.

“Yeah. My manager had to for-” he stopped himself, casting you a guilty look which you didn’t notice, “My manager signed me up for this before I even got the chance to know the details of this whole thing.”

“Why’s that?”

Doyoung hesitated for a second before the words came tumbling out of his mouth, “The company isn’t doing so well.”

He knew he wasn’t supposed to divulge this information but for some reasons, he felt comfortable enough that it just came out before he even knew it.

“Isn’t doing so well? What do you mean?” You asked, alarmed.

Doyoung stared out wistfully at the ocean, shaking his head. “The company’s doing poorly financially, which is why we had to do this. They needed to push me into the spotlight to keep the place afloat. They needed me to get… profits.” He spat out the last word like it left a disgusting taste in his mouth.

“I… I didn’t know.”

“It’s fine,” he said softly, “I didn’t expect you to. I’ve never really told anyone about it.”

“You’re more than just… profits,” you whispered and he smiled sadly. “I like to think that too. I know they try really hard and they have good intentions at heart but… but when they pull things like this on me, I can’t help but feel so… small. I’m grateful to them, they’ve made me into the person I am today but I can’t help but feel like I’m more object than I am human in their eyes… To everyone.”

There was a moment of silence before you said, “You’re not who you think you are. You are so much more than money, you’re not an object.”

Doyoung turned to you, eyes unreadable. “What am I then to you?”

You locked eyes with him, ignoring the knotting feeling in your stomach. You always were a nervous wreck in front of people, especially Kim Doyoung of all people but you knew you needed to say this.

“You are the most stunning…”

The faint smile on Doyoung’s face wavered ever so slightly, a tinge of disappointment stabbing at his heart.

It seemed as if he was nothing if not for his looks.

“You are the most stunningly talented person I’ve ever had the privilege of meeting. I know you may not believe it but I hope you know that fans like myself have always found you to be so much more than just Doyoung. Please don’t refer to yourself as… as just profits because that is not what you are. You are so unbelievably good at what you do and your fans have never once thought otherwise. We love you for you, for your personality and for your artistry.”

Doyoung stared at you, seemingly blank and at a loss of words when you leaned forward, locking eyes with him and your hands gingerly covering his own as the seawater lapped gently between your toes.

“You may not know it but your work has brought so much joy to the community. Your work isn’t simply work, it’s art. It’s meaningful, impactful. I hope I… I hope I don’t sound dramatic or over the top but… you are so, so much more than just an actor or an artist. You are you, Doyoung and that alone is what matters to all of us.”

For a moment, he didn’t reply. Under the moonlight, it was a little difficult to read his expression. The chiaroscuro reflected against his features shaded much of his face, only outlining the sharpness of certain features. Quickly, you felt yourself begin to clam up. You tore your gaze away from him, wishing the sand would just swallow you up whole.

“I… I’m sorry that was s-so cheesy, I-”

“No. Don’t apologise.”

You snapped your head up to look at him and felt your breath hitch. He’d moved out of the shadow and you could see now that there was such emotion in his eyes that you could feel your heart begin to clench. You’d seen this in countless of his dramas but none so raw like such. It felt almost… intimate. You couldn’t help but stare into them, transfixed and feeling the strong emotions bubble up within you as well.

Was that relief you saw in his eyes?

“Y/n, I-”

“There you are! You little rascal!”

The two of you turned, shocked. Taeil stood before the two of you, arms akimbo as he glared at Doyoung who scowled.

“How the hell did you find me?”

“I have my ways. I can’t believe you just ran away like that!”

“Well, I did so you best believe it.”

“Don’t get smart with me, mister.” At that moment, Taeil seemed to notice your presence, a look of surprise registering on his face before he covered it up with a warm smile. “Miss y/n?”

You nodded shyly, not noticing the look of irritation on Doyoung’s face.

“Nice to meet you! I’m Moon Taeil, Doyoung’s manager. Well, it’s pretty late. Why don’t Doyoung and I give you a lift back to your hotel?”

☀️-☀️-☀️

The drive home was awkward to say the least and as the two of you sat side by side in the car, you wondered what Doyoung was about to say before he’d been interrupted by his manager. You watched as the beach town zoomed by you, a flurry of lights and people. It was difficult to strike up a conversation with Taeil talking throughout the drive and you couldn’t help but sneak a glance at Doyoung.

Turning slightly, you could see that he was looking out the window, his face an expression of serenity and grace. As if he could sense your gaze on him, Doyoung turned and you quickly looked away, your face burning up.

As the car sidled up in front of the hotel entrance, you were preparing to leave when Taeil hurriedly stepped out of the car.

“Bathroom!” He screeched at the perturbed doorman who he’d almost ran into.

As you prepared to leave, you felt Doyoung’s hand clasp around your wrist. Surprised, you looked up at him, puzzled yet not daring to move in front of your favourite actor.

Doyoung was silent for a moment before he said, “I… I’ll see you.”

For some reason, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of disappointment. You smiled warmly, “I really hope we can meet again, Doyoung. Thank you for the wonderful evening.”

He nodded tightly, letting you go and just before you left - maybe you were just imagining things - you thought you detected a hint of reluctance in his eyes.

☀️-☀️-☀️

“What a waste!”

Alex’s shriek was so piercing that the rest of you had to cover your ears. Frowning, you rubbed at them.

“Please don’t scream, it’s hurting our eardrums.”

“How could I not?! You guys clearly had something going on. If it wasn’t for his manager cutting in, who knows how far the two of you would have gone! What a waste!”

“Don’t blow this out of proportion, it was a one time date. I doubt he even remembers me.”

Meeting Doyoung was an experience of a lifetime and though upset that it ended, you were also glad that it happened in the first place. At the end of the day, it was a date and nothing else as much as you wanted more. It had been about two weeks since the date and ever since coming back, it was safe to say that nothing much had changed. Perhaps, the only thing that really changed was Alex’s habit of screaming ‘what a waste’ whenever Doyoung appeared on television in the store’s breakroom. You really wish she’d stop doing that.

“You know, I agree with Alex. It’s definitely poor timing.” Renjun quipped before Alex interjected, “It’s not poor timing, it’s absolutely HORRIBLE timing. Jesus!”

“Look guys, I’d rather just enjoy the experience. There’s no point thinking what could have been and what couldn’t have. It was a great experience and I had fun, that’s really it,” you smiled, rolling your eyes. “This isn’t a kdrama.”

“Y/n’s right. Y’all drama queens gotta tone it down a notch,” Dana said.

“Ugh, you guys are no fun. I would have dove at the chance,” Alex sighed, slumping against her chair which elicited a giggle from you.

“Why are you more piffed than I am? That doesn’t make sense.”

“It’s because you lost a chance that was just right under your nose!”

Just then, the faint tinkling sound from the entrance of the bookstore signalled the arrival of yet another customer. “I’ll get that,” Renjun said, leaving the three of you.

“How much do you guys want to bet that it’s Mrs Conwell down the street again with her weekly erotica dose?” Alex asked, a look of mischief on her face.

Just then, Renjun appeared, looking properly flustered with an excitable look on his face, like he could barely contain his glee. His chest was heaving like he’d ran a marathon and the words that came out of his mouth were jumbled.

“I-I-! You... guys… You…. Y/n!”

You looked at him, eyes wide. “What happened, Renjun?”

“You’re… You’re needed outside.”

“Me?” You thought, confused. Why on earth-

You dropped the book that you had been scanning, your eyes as wide as saucers and your jaw almost touching the ground. How? Why? What?

Doyoung stood before you, clad in a striped blue and white dress shirt and jeans, seemingly looking around the store in wonderment. The sight of him triggered memories of the date though the actual reality of him being in the store was enough to almost knock you off your feet. It felt almost surreal to see him again and you almost had to pinch yourself.

At the sound of the book clattering to the ground, he turned, smiling once he’d found you.

“Y/n!”

“H-How did you- I… What?”

At your reaction, Doyoung shifted awkwardly at his feet as he scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry, is this too sudden?”

“Um… Yes?!” You blurted out, covering your mouth in mortification as he chuckled, “I figured so, I hope you don’t mind though?” You shook your head vigorously, feeling your legs beginning to turn to jelly at the surrealness of the whole situation. Here he was again, Kim Doyoung, standing before you except this time, it wasn’t a date you’d won or anything.

He had come out of his own accord.

Behind you, a shrill scream followed and you didn’t even have to turn to know who it was.

“Oh my god!” Alex screamed, her voice a mix of excitement and nervousness at the sight of the actor in the tiny store and even Dana couldn’t stop gaping.

“Why are you here?” You asked Doyoung. There were so many questions flying around in your mind and you couldn’t think of which to even ask first.

“After that night we spent at resonance beach, there was something that had been lingering on my mind. Something I’d wanted to ask. Remember that moment right before Taeil jumped in?”

You could feel in your gut that something great was stirring but you whispered, “Yeah?”

“I was wondering… If I could ask you on another date. Just the two of us, no managers, no paparazzi this time. What do you say?”

“Of course, she’ll go!” Alex cried before you could even answer and the both of you chuckled, leaning into each other as you did.

“Well, your friend has certainly spoken. But what do you think?”

You looked up at Doyoung, eyes sparkling.

“Yes. Yes, I’ll go on a date with you, Kim Doyoung.”

[lairofdragonagelore]

The Raw Fade - Part 4, Justinia

Main Quest: Here Lies the Abyss

Divine Justinia V was the head of the Orlesian Chantry between 9:34 and 9:41 Dragon. Given her wordly past and her dealings with the bards of Orlais, Justinia V was reputed to be one of the finest players of the Grand Game.

[Index page of Dragon Age Lore]

Justinia

As we explore the fade, we find Justinia, or what I think it’s a spirit of Faith that took Justinia’s shape to help the inquisitor in this place, guiding them along the Fade, protecting them to avoid worse spirits and teaching them things needed to be whole again.  Pretty much like the spirits claimed by : Walking the Fade: Frozen Moments, in The Raw Fade - Part 1.

We can talk to her. The main goal of Justinia is make the Inquisitor recover their own memories.  By the kind of answers she gives, very Cole-like, she seems to be a spirit of good nature. I speculate it’s a spirit of Faith.  Why? With Wynne we learnt these are the strongest good spirits [information reinforced explicitly in the World of Thedas, Vol 1], even though they are more passive in their hosts.  I speculate that Justinia had been possessed by this spirit in a similar fashion as Wynne was, and for that reason Corypheus needed her power to unlock the orb, and not just kill her like he wanted to do with Celene to produce political instability.

She informs us about Nightmare, a demon that works for Corypheus and feeds on the fear and darkness. This may explain why this Fade has so many keepers of Fear: here is where the food for this demon is exhibited.

We are informed by this spirit that this demon Nightmare is the one responsible for the apparent Calling of the wardens.

The inquisitor does not remember what happened in the Conclave, and it’s here where they recover by gathering the small wisps of memories.

She explains that the Fade is “made of” the mind of mankind.

What changes in the mankind’s world, changes here in the Fade.

Due to the evasive nature of this Justinia, whose behaviour is similar to Cole’s, we reinforces the idea that she may be a spirit like Cole, in particular: Faith [mostly because she asks for forgiveness to Leliana for having failed her, and even though it may be a posthumous regret of Justinia, it fits well from a narrative point of view, since Leliana starts the game with her loss of faith.]

She claims she is what the Maker made her. But if the Chantry Maker doesn’t exist, this may be a typical misuse of language of the spirits: a Maker can be any person who creates or maintain spirits in the Fade. She may as well call Maker to the real, human Justinia, whose faith kept her stronger over time.

We follow a conversation about the Maker. This is quite challenging since we have the confirmation of Corypheuys already claiming there is no Maker, as well as Solas ignoring completely the presence of any. Justinia claims that the Maker can be seen all around us, implying that a Maker can be anyone who can create spirits or reflection of emotions in the Fade, if we take this spirit in a more poetic way.

It’s curious how she describes the anchor: It’s the needle that pulls the thread, as well as a key. Meaning a key to something locked, the door to the Fade: the Veil. It creates [sew] the Veil, and it’s also the key to access to the Fade. If we assume that the Veil was made with this energy trapped in the orb/inquisitor’s hand, and it was a means to seal a bigger danger, it’s also the key to unlock it.

When we recover the memory, we realise Justinia was used by Corypheus to unlock the orb. He required a sacrifice, and for unknown reasons, she was chosen, despite not being an elf, a dragon-blooded humanoid or a mage [all more suitable victims which blood or sacrifice has more power, lore-wise]. Even the way she is sacrificed does not implies blood magic.

She is restrained with red lines of power, which represent the bound Grey Warden’s power or maybe Corypheus’. And the Green energy coming out from her to the orb may suggest “similar Fade energy”. This is why, from a visual point of view, I suspect that human Justinia has been possessed by a gentle spirit for a long while, in the same fashion that Wynne was. [For more details, even though this speculation is a bit old, read What is Justinia?]

Once recovered the first set of memories, we have a comment from the mage companions: Solas, who has always spoken about the spirit nature, suggests this Justinia is pretty much a similar case to Cole but staying in the Fade.  Dorian, also says an adequate comment: if they would have been a demon, they would have asked for something in return. Vivienne, of course, remains wary about the nature of this creature.

The second set of memories happens nearby the Humanoid Mythal statue.  We see the  inquisitor climb a rock towards the Breach to return to the Waking World. Justinia is helping him, as spiders follow him.

Here more or less is confirmed that she is a spirit of some kind, as the orange glowing, typical of the spirits in this game, turn into the intense yellow glow with the Divine hat [detail that reinforces the idea that the essence of this spirit is related to Faith]

We can have some discussion with other companions, but there are no concrete answers about the nature of this creature. Lore-wise, it seems reasonable to think in this situation similar to Wynne’s [Wynne was not always possessed, but she always noticed the presence of that spirit, taking care of her].  It’s not clear if Justinia was or was not possessed by a gentle spirit, but in either case, this one keeps reinforcing the idea of a spirit of Faith. Her dubious answers also fit perfectly her potential Faith-nature: she asks you to believe in whatever story you want to create to justify her decision of looking like Justinia. 

So, in a short series of speculations:

This spirit takes the shape of Justinia. It may imply a situation similar to Cole’s in  Asunder.  

This Spirit may have been to Justinia like Faith was to Wynne: a spirit that took care of her until she died, and in wynne’s case, Faith possessed her in mutual agreement to save the lives of the Mages that were trapped in the tower. 

It’s not clear if Justinia was or not possessed. But since Corypheus needs her energy to unlock the orb [which needs a lot of energy that Solas didn’t have when he awoke from his slumber, said by himself at the end of Trespasser] it seems natural to assume that Corypheus used her energy because she was more powerful than an elvhen [when elven blood is special for potent magic] or than even a mage. 

The way the spirit of Justinia evades the requests for answers, and always suggests you to believe in whatever you want, it seems to be a fitting behaviour for a spirit of Faith

Her shape of light loses all details except the typical hat of the Divine, meaning that the spirit has kept a modern, powerful religious icon into herself. An icon of contemporaneous Faith.

The Seekers of Truth is an institution which has always had a deep relationship with Faith spirits that they used in order to awake seekers from their tranquillity vigil. The Seekers is an Order close to the Divine as well, so there is a natural approach of Faith spirits to the Divine just by her proximity to this Order.

Leliana seems to be immune to Red Lyrium, like Seekers are. There is a potential implicit connotation that she may have been touched by a spirit of Faith. Since Justinia and Leliana have always been too close, this speculation seems to have a bit of room for this event to happen between the Divine and the Left Hand. However, the most natural and obvious explanation of this is if Leliana dies in DAO, at the temple of the Sacred Ashes, and she is revived by a spirit, as it’s implied in her speech if we play in a world where the warden killed her. The problem with this is that it depends a lot of the player’s choice.

When the spirit fights the gigantic spider, she tells the inquisitor to ask Leliana for forgiveness of “having failed her”. This is so ambivalent that it could be interpreted as a last regret of the real Justinia, but it could also be a genuine apology from the spirit of Faith for having let Leliana lose her Faith [as we saw in the beginning of the game] or even an apology for not having protected the Divine that Leliana loved so much.

[mermaidsirennikita]

They really have noooo idea what to do with Benedict. I feel like they're still trying to figure out if he's going to be straight.

I think there are several issues occurring with them being stumped on him, which they absolutely are.

A) The creative team is not organically that interested. No matter how much the fans like Luke T. and Benedict, that doesn't make the creative team any more into him. There are showrunners and powers that be that prioritize what the fans like to a ridiculous degree; there are showrunners and powers that be which meet in the middle between what they want and what fans want (rare and probably ideal); and there are showrunners and powers that be that go "we do what we want". Historically.... People who work at Shondaland usually do what they want. Sometimes that's great; sometimes it's not. Look at Grey's Anatomy; does anyone want more of Owen Hunt? No, but Krista Vernoff does, and so y'all will choke on him. I think we all know the Powers That Be (Shonda especially) love Penelope.

B) To reinforce this, it's not like Penelope is this character that gets little engagement. I hate her. A lot of viewers hate her. A lot of viewers love her. She may not be as more universally well-received, the way Anthony/Kate and even Simon/Daphne are. But people do talk about her, and a character that gets lots of attention from the genpop is more valuable than a character that doesn't. I know a lot of fandom loves Benedict... I don't see as much of that from people who generally watch the show, most likely because he doesn't do much.

C) And those that do discuss him in the genpop (with me at least) usually assume he's bi because season 1 coded him hard and they don't know about or give a fuck about Sophie. There are people employed to gather info about how TV shows and characters are perceived. The creative team knows this. They also know that it doesn't look particularly great if a show that peddles love stories has zero meaningful queer rep. Decisions, decisions.

D) Sophie's plot is difficult to adapt, both because it is not very dramatically invigorating and because there are a host of bad implications if you cast a woman of color as what is essentially a slave to her family. I honestly don't know if they're clocking this, but I imagine the general strugglebus that is book 3. Contrary to what fandom would have you think today, book 3 was not one of the more popular books in the series before the show came out. It was kind of a nothing burger sandwiched between the two most popular books in the series. So it's not even going to be a priority from the "serving the book fans" perspective.

Honestly? There's a decent chance that Benedict gets shafted again in season 4, and like......... Who knows if they'll get more than four seasons. Eloise is more primed for a love story than he is, at this point. I wouldn't make any bets until you watch s3 or hear something concrete.

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 148

This chapter got... long. In a good way. I mean, who objects to a chapter that is practically double-length?  Right.

Speed-run shout outs this week go to: @nagisa-666, @crimson-faith27, @colornotes23, @theronisengard, @gam3rgur1.

Beta-reading thanks go to @baelpenrose, along with general thanks to @the-raven-fae, @anotherusrname, and @charlylimph-blog for being amazing people.

A few things I want to note: the technology behind these suits is NOT my creation. They are very strongly based on the suits used by Rifters in Peter Watts’s Rifters triology. I wish I could take credit for them, but honesty is the best policy.

I hope all my readers are okay wherever you are.  There’s been a lot of severe weather in the last couple of weeks, and I just want you all to be safe.

Once we had Charly, Antoine, and Maverick on board to help with our project, Grey and I agreed that a meeting of the Council would be necessary to cover what we were hoping to achieve - especially once we discovered that the original plan behind the bivouac suits was only waiting for our votes for full approval.  For once, I was looking forward to a full, in-person meeting so that I could glare down every one of my peers, face-to-face.

Glaring over video just lost a certain…. je ne sais quoi.  Even Tyche and Arthur agreed.

As I entered the rarely-used Council chambers, the sheer lack of people caught me off guard.  Grey and Pranav had not arrived yet, but the only others present were Xiomara, Eino, and Huynh.  Eino seemed to notice as I stopped short, and smiled gently. “I know it has been quite some time, but it is protocol that when the Council is voting to override our hosts, or one or more Councillors actually oppose an initiative that impacts the entire ship, only the sitting members and Miys are included in the meetings. Not even administrators are allowed.”

I blinked slowly. “When did that start? Even Arantxa’s trial had administrators in attendance.”

“Witnesses,” Huynh shrugged. “This isn’t a trial, it’s a debate, and our votes cannot be influenced by outside parties.”

“And, thanks to you and Grey, we’re sequestered until we reach a unanimous agreement,” Xiomara added, glaring.

“I disagree, Xiomara,” Grey responded as they breezed into the room. “The entire reason we have a Council is to ensure that the needs of the many are being considered.  Sophia already has a back up plan in the event that our hopes do not pan out, one that is quite more agreeable than what you initially took into account I dare say.”

Eino, ever the peacemaker, held up one pale hand. “Please. Let us save our arguments for the actual debate. Instigating hard feelings will only extend these proceedings, and I believe several of us have lives outside of work we would like to return to.”

“What are the two of you bickering about now?” Pranav sighed as he took his seat.  I hadn’t seen him come in after Grey, but apparently he had been in the room long enough to secure a plate of biscuits and what smelled like tea.  The look I gave him only garnered a wink.

“Before they start in again,” Eino responded as loudly as he ever got - which was a firm tone but not terribly loud in all honesty, “The entire Council is present, so we will be starting shortly. I would like to confirm that our esteemed host is present as well?”

“Indeed,” the reply came from the ceiling. “And per human custom, I have only myself to consult with. Councilor Emeritus Rodriguez is not present.”

“Thank you. With that, we may call the session to order.” Eino stood, acting as parliamentarian for the duration. “As you are all aware, Miys recently brought to our attention that humans are, in fact, considered a Class III Biohazard within the greater Galactic community. To protect the Eko-mari fleet that will be escorting us, we are asked to comply with safety protocols which ask that we wear the bivouac suits.”

I stifled a giggle when, rather than showing a projection to the group, he pulled out one of the ridiculously tiny suits.  The only one who apparently heard me was Xiomara, who sat in her customary seat to my left and kicked my shin gently.  For all that we were at loggerheads on this topic, it was apparent that we were both ready to lay it to rest and celebrate-slash-commiserate over a meal.

As he handed the sample-suit off to his left, Eino flicked up a schematic. “For the edification of the group, the bivouac suits are structured from a reflex-copolymer sheath which is selectively permeable, hydrophobic, and resistant to extreme temperatures. Oxygen and nitrogen are able to pass through the suit from the outside, while carbon dioxide is able to pass from the inside. They seal in the back with a semi-intelligent macromolecule, with a second macromolecule across the mouth that allows us to attach nutrient packs so we can eat while in the suit.”

This was so much worse than I expected, and I could feel my heart beginning to race and my gag reflex kicking in. I wasn’t even claustrophobic, but just the idea of putting one of those suits on made me feel like I was suffocating.  Glancing around the table, I could visibly see at least Huynh’s opinion changing from apathetic to… sweaty and fidgety.

Eino continued, dismissing the schematic. “The vote today is whether this is the correct solution for the situation, or if other options should be considered.  Xiomara Kalloe, as you are defending the majority opinion, you have the floor first.”

“Thank you,” she acknowledged as she took the floor. “Council, my acceptance of the bivouac suits is quite simple - this is standard Galactic safety protocol when interacting with a sentient species that could be considered harmful to your own or others simply by virtue of existing in the same atmosphere. As our species is the one considered to be the biohazard,  custom expects that we would be the species in containment.  Otherwise, there is a possibility of danger to not only the Ekomari, but also any other species that stepped on their ship until it is properly decontaminated. While decontam is a simple process for the Ark - as Hujylsogox ships are designed with such measures in mind and largely handle the process themselves, at all times - records indicate that decontamination of an Ekomari ship would require near-complete disassembly, along with replacement of any porous surfaces.”

Even I had to whistle softly at that. Okay, then. We are that gross, got it. Not surprised, given the number of plagues humanity had experienced, combined with some of the people I had dated in the past.

“I believe the impacts of your statement are quite apparent, Councilor Kalloe. Thank you,” Eino stated. “Dissenting opinion is being provided by Councilor Sophia Reid. Questions will be addressed after dissenting opinion has been provided and a fifteen minute recess has been taken to allow consideration. Sophia? Your floor.”

“Thank you, Eino.” I smiled gently before composing myself. “While mine is being considered the ‘dissenting’ opinion, due to the exact reasons that Xiomara herself provided, I entirely agree with the need to be careful and considerate of other species, especially regarding the potential to repeat the smallpox-blanket mistakes of our past.” Without fail, the entire group winced.  “Exactly. We all agree that we aren’t doing that again - not should not, are not.  All that I am asking the Council to take into account is the potential to traumatize members of our own group by only considering the bivouac suits as a possibility.  Yes, the bivouac suits have proven themselves out by the entire galactic community, they are completely safe from a physiological perspective, et cetera.”  

This is where I had to take a deep breath, since this was literally my entire argument, and I had already admitted as much. “I am not arguing the use of them entirely, I am arguing the use of the suits, strictly.  Selfishly, I find myself experiencing a panic response at the idea of wearing them, and that is only by being more familiar with them - I’m sorry, Eino, but before you gave more details, my personal opinion was ‘I will sweat, but I can suck it up’. Now it’s ‘oh hell no and I’m not even claustrophobic, eff this’.”

“Understood,” he conceded gently.

With a nod, I forged on, encouraged. “However, that is just for myself. There are members of the Ark who cannot bear the feel of clothes, who fear restrictions, or the dark… Valuable members of our crew who will experience severe psychological trauma if forced into one of those suits.  And that, I cannot let go unspoken of, or unnoticed, without being remiss in my role as Councilor.” I steeled myself from glancing at Xiomara; she was over Health and Safety, and any form of addressing her directly would be considered a direct attack on her competence. “I have alternatives, to be used in conjunction with the bivouac suits, so that we can all keep those escorting us as safe as possible while also protecting our own people.”

I took my seat, and as soon as my hands dropped to my lap, Xiomara grabbed one and squeezed my fingers. The debate was over, the rest of the Council just had to figure that out.

“Thank you, Sophia,” Eino nodded seriously. “We shall take our break, and then convene for questions. Xiomara and Sophia, we ask that you remain at that side of the room. Councilors, you are asked to stay on the opposite side of the room. You are allowed to speak among yourselves, but any questions for Sophia or Xiomara are to be held until we as a group can consider them at the same time.”

Xiomara leaned over. “Derek,” she whispered sadly.

“Or Nixe,” I admitted. “Can you imagine forcing her into one of those?”

“Not without reinforcements and enough sedative to drop a horse,” she admitted, squeezing my fingers one more time before releasing them.

The break ended quickly, and Pranav was kind enough to quickly-but-silently set snacks and drinks, along with an enormous pitcher of water, in front of me and Xiomara before we picked up with the questions they were allowed.

Without hesitation, Huynh’s hand shot in the air to ask the first question.  While I never quite got around to actually liking him, I could very much appreciate his tendency to get straight to the heart of what he wanted to know, with very little patience for anything he deemed less important. “Clearly, you both agree on the need to quarantine ourselves, there is no argument there. Sophia, you mentioned alternatives to the bivouac suits. What are those?”

Grey gave me a pointed look with a slight squint. They were smug in the knowledge that we had already turned one vote, and I resisted the urge to grin in response. “Absolutely. As I mentioned, there is a significant portion of the population on the Ark that would be psychologically triggered by the bivouac suits. I have already spoken with members of the medical and engineering teams, and there are several options that we can adapt for our use, all of which are already in use within the Galactic community.”

With a flick, I brought up one example on the table emitter. “First, we have portable bioelectric fields, similar to what was used in medical when we first came on the Ark. Our teams have seven-nines of certainty that they can have these ready before rendezvous.” Flick, another example. “For more drastic situations, or simply so that we are not required to wear the suits at all times, even when we are back on the Ark, quarantine procedures in specified areas - similar to an airlock - so that anyone who does not or cannot wear a suit or personal field can remain safely in quarantine to keep the fleet away from our general biological ick.”

Nods circled the table. Xiomara went from drumming her fingers to pressing them down hard enough to turn her nail beds white - she was literally gripping for dear life to keep from laughing. I coughed to hide my smile, and forged on to the third option. “For the next example, I want to be clear: this is an entirely serious suggestion, regardless of how comical it looks.  Even without knowing the composition of the bivouac suits, we did practical tests with the sample that Noah was kind enough to leave with my office. Again, I am entirely serious, this is not a joke, no matter how much it looks like one.”

Despite my warning, I heard a round of snorts and no few giggles as I put the next example up on the emitter. I ignored them, completely understanding how comical it looked, allowing them to compose themselves. Gesturing at the nearly-spherical generic-human shape that was being projected, I soldiered on. “This is one of the bivouac suits, with added atmosphere to avoid claustrophobia.” With both hands, I pivoted the image to point at the back, just where the neck met the spine. “An atmospheric generator has been added here, to re-inflate the suit in the event that the person wearing it needs to eat or otherwise breach the suit.  Obviously, this would be done in one of the aforementioned quarantine areas, not on the actual Ekomari vessel.”

Huynh’s grin was nothing short of feral.  “These are all quite solid suggestions. Thank you.”

“Wait,” Pranav sputtered. “You’re quite serious about the… balloon man?”

Grey slid a pocket-sized atmospheric generator over. “Practical demonstration, if you want to try it on.”

Shaking his head with a smile, he slid it over to Huynh. “I am certain his department can do more with it than mine, but it should prove to be… quite an introduction to our stellar neighbors.”

“Any further questions?” I asked, feeling significantly more confident.

“I have one for Xiomara, and possibly Grey, actually,” Eino asked, clearing his throat. “Despite the fact that this will be readily apparent, I feel like I should preface this would not have been something I previously considered, but now I must know.” Oh, shit. My glance down at Xio revealed a very similar sentiment. “It has been mentioned that humans are considered a Class III Biohazard? We have put a lot of effort into defending the Ark from the potential of pirates, looting, and possible enslavement. If we are a Galactic biohazard, what value would there be in any species abducting us only to potentially die or experience at least a plague if we are encountered? Would that not… deter? Species from attacking us?”

Xiomara pinched the bridge of her nose. “I see where this is going. Please convey this to the person who I am reasonably sure you are asking this for:  Yes, being a Class III biohazard also makes humanity a Class III bioweapon. And while that would initially make others hesitant to abduct us, eventually there are groups that will figure out quarantine protocols, just like we have, and will realize that they can just… smuggle a human on a ship, wait for everyone on board to die or get to ill to function, and then sweep in to just… I don’t know, blow the locks. Who thinks of a weapon as a person? It’s not like they’ll worry about what happens to the human who gets swept into space.”

“And all of ‘the humans’ are on this ship, eventually on that colony,” I added, with all the gravity I could include. “Meaning we all know that ‘bioweapon’. There are seven ‘bioweapons’ in this room, alone.”

The room fell into silence, until Eino was brave enough to clear his throat. “So. If the debate is over, let us vote.  We will await suggestions for stepping up drills and defense training.”

The motion carried quickly in favor of using the proposed combination of containment measures, with unanimous agreement. 

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